Darnell had followed him at some point.
He hadn't come near Lin An, instead hiding behind a dumpster twenty meters away.
Because he was so big, the dumpster only covered half his body. He could only hunch over and tuck in his neck as much as possible, like a clumsy bear.
Through a gap in the dumpster, he watched the five "people" charge out.
"Bro..."
He muttered to himself, so quietly that only he could hear.
"You really are a wizard!"
He watched the bald man standing in the open with a gun in one hand get shot in the chest, fall down, get back up, and fall down again.
Darnell swallowed and crossed himself.
Then he saw Lin An start moving.
Lin An began heading left along the low wall, keeping to the building's shadow as he made his way toward the Church.
The Bullet Screen spotted what he was doing at once.
[Wait, streamer, are you going around behind the Crips?]
[Didn't he say he'd take out the Rainstorm Gang first?]
[Are you stupid? The Rainstorm Gang is caught between two sides right now, and the Crips are charging the hardest. Take out the Crips first, and the Rainstorm Gang will naturally let their guard down.]
[No, he told those five people to take out the Rainstorm Gang first, then the Crips.]
[Plans never keep up with changes. Who can predict what'll happen on a battlefield?]
[Besides, look at those Crips. They're charging hard. If nobody stops them, they'll be right in the Rainstorm Gang's faces.]
Lin An didn't explain.
He hurried along the base of the wall, his pace still unhurried, the broken glass crunching softly beneath his feet.
But he chose his route carefully, staying in the building's shadow the whole time. Whenever he passed a window or an alley entrance, he paused briefly—not just to give the Bullet Screen a chance to observe, but also to take a quick look himself before moving on.
It was the same way of moving that Old Soldier Never Die had used earlier. Lin An had learned it after watching just once.
Lin An stopped when he reached the side of the Church.
There was an iron fence here. On the other side was the Church's side yard, overgrown with weeds and cluttered with discarded benches and other junk.
He climbed over the fence lightly, landing with his knees bent and barely making a sound.
Crossing the side yard would bring him around to the Crips' flank... about thirty meters to the right of that flower bed.
Lin An reached into the System Store and began pulling things out.
He took out a modified Remington 870 shotgun.
Its barrel had been sawed off, leaving less than forty centimeters. The grip had been replaced with a tactical grip with finger grooves, and half the stock had been cut away. The whole gun looked compact and vicious, like a snarling dog ready to bite.
It held six shells. Lin An had loaded it with 12-gauge slugs, loot he'd taken from a gunman's corpse in the abandoned factory earlier. The audience hadn't redeemed them, so they'd come in handy.
A slug was one large lead projectile. One shot meant one projectile, and it left a hole in anyone it hit.
Lin An slung the Remington across his back, muzzle down, then took out the Glock 19.
It was a full-auto conversion, fitted with a 17-round magazine from a Glock 7. It was already loaded.
He held the Glock 19 in his right hand, the Remington's strap over his left shoulder, then climbed out through another gate in the side yard.
He was now about twenty-five meters behind and to the right of the Crips.
The flower bed was ahead of him on the left, and the Church steps were straight ahead, slightly to the left.
All four Crips—three who could fight and one sitting on the ground—were within his field of view, and every one of them had his back to Lin An.
The Bullet Screen went wild.
[Holy shit, holy shit, that position!]
[Not one of them has spotted the streamer!]
[Every single one has his back turned!]
[Open fire! Oh, wait, let me fire! He could kill at least three of them right now!]
[Don't rush. Let him pick a target first.]
[Go for the one with the Ingram. He's the biggest threat.]
[No, go for the one with the revolver first. He's farthest out. If he goes down, the others will take cover near the flower bed and bunch up.]
[You people don't know shit. Take out the one with the injured foot first. He can't move, so it's a sure thing.]
Lin An didn't rush to open fire.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the right moment.
On the battlefield, Old Soldier Never Die fired.
Bang.
Fifteen meters away, a Rainstorm Gang gunman was hit in the shoulder. He spun halfway around and fell to the ground.
But the Rainstorm Gang fired back, too.
The bald Black man fired his Glock 17 in quick succession, sending brick chips flying from Old Soldier Never Die's cover. One bullet grazed the top of Old Soldier Never Die's head, leaving a bloody furrow.
Text appeared above Old Soldier Never Die.
[I took a hit. It's not serious. I can still fight.]
[But you're too exposed there. Change positions.]
[Move right. There's a pile of old tires over there.]
Old Soldier Never Die crouched low, darted out from behind cover, and ran toward the pile of old tires on the right.
The Rainstorm Gang's tall, thin Latino spotted him and raised his gun.
Bang × 2
Two shots. Both missed.
After taking a bullet to the lower leg, the tall man's aim had clearly worsened. His gun wobbled badly.
Arcade Gun God seized the opportunity.
He leaned out from behind the truck, switched his Glock 19 to semi-automatic, and took aim at the tall man.
Bang.
One shot hit the tall man in the chest.
The man grunted and toppled backward. His Ruger P89 fell to the ground. He struggled to get up, but the wound in his chest left him gasping for breath. He could only lie there, breathing heavily.
The bald Black man saw him and cursed, then turned and fired three shots in Arcade Gun God's direction.
Arcade Gun God ducked back. The bullets struck the truck bed above his head with a series of metallic clangs.
On the front line, the Crips advanced a little farther.
The gunman with the MAC-11 rose from behind the flower bed, holding his weapon and firing as he walked.
The MAC-11's high rate of fire kept the Rainstorm Gang from even daring to raise their heads. Bullets struck the SUV and the windshield of the gray sedan, sending glass shards flying everywhere.
The gunman with the Smith & Wesson semi-automatic pistol followed behind him, firing as well.
The gunman with the revolver lagged a little behind. His revolver only held six rounds, and he was reloading after firing them all.
The shotgunner sitting on the ground had loaded his weapon. He struggled to his feet, hopped forward a couple of steps on one leg, then crouched in a corner of the flower bed and rested his Double-barreled Shotgun on its edge.
The tide of battle was turning in the Crips' favor.
Of the Rainstorm Gang's six men, one was dead, one was badly wounded, and one had half an ear torn off but could still fight. The remaining three were unharmed.
On the Crips' side, the gunman with the MAC-11 was wounded, but he was still fighting, and his fire was fierce.
If no one intervened, the Crips would probably break through the Rainstorm Gang's front line within the next minute.
But Lin An was here.
He stood behind the Crips, watching their backs.
The Bullet Screen urged him on.
[Streamer, if you don't open fire now, it'll be too late!]
[They're about to charge right into the Rainstorm Gang!]
[Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!]
Lin An raised the Glock 19.
He didn't switch it to full-auto.
His first shot was aimed at the gunman with the revolver.
The man was farthest out and closest to Lin An, about twenty meters away.
Bang.
The bullet, aimed for a long time, struck him in the ribs from the side, pierced his lung, and exited through his chest.
The gunman with the revolver lurched sideways. The revolver slipped from his hand. He clutched his chest and looked down at the wound, blood welling from it, then his knees buckled and he fell to the ground.
He didn't die right away, but he was no longer able to fight.
The Bullet Screen refreshed rapidly.
[Hit! Hit! Hit!]
[One!]
[Keep going!]
The Crips reacted.
The gunman with the MAC-11 was the first to turn. The moment he saw Lin An, his pupils contracted.
"Behind us!"
He shouted.
"There's someone behind us!"
He turned, aiming the MAC-11 at Lin An.
Lin An didn't dodge.
Instead, he silently smiled and squeezed the trigger. This time, he fired on full-auto, spraying a burst of bullets.
Bang.
Amid the burst, a 9mm bullet hit the MAC-11 gunman's right arm. The submachine gun flew out of his hand and hit the ground, its magazine popping free and spilling bullets everywhere.
He screamed and backed away, clutching his arm. He struck the edge of the flower bed and fell.
"FUCK! FUCK! My hand!"
He writhed on the ground. Blood poured from the wound, quickly soaking half his shirt.
The two remaining Crips—the gunman with the Smith & Wesson semi-automatic pistol and the one with the Double-barreled Shotgun—both turned around.
The one with the Smith & Wesson reacted fastest. He had already raised his gun and aimed at Lin An.
But he was too slow.
Lin An had already taken out a second pistol and opened fire on full-auto. A dense stream of bullets swept toward him.
The Smith & Wesson gunman was unlucky. In the wild burst, a bullet hit him in the abdomen. He instinctively doubled over, and the gun fell from his hand. Then his legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees, forehead pressed against the ground, his body trembling.
Now only the shotgunner remained. He had been hit in the ankle and was crouched in the corner of the flower bed.
He had already loaded his weapon and rested the Double-barreled Shotgun on the edge of the flower bed, its muzzle aimed at Lin An.
But before he could fire, Lin An quickly crouched and tucked himself behind the hood of a parked car. The slug slammed into the car with a clang, but none of the buckshot could hurt him.
Crouching low, Lin An stowed the Glock 19 in the System Store, drew the Remington 870 with the sawed-off barrel from his back, then sprang up and pulled the trigger the instant he aimed at the shotgunner.
The move looked cool, but Lin An's aim was as bad as ever. From twenty meters away, he fired, and the slug only hit the flower bed in front of the gunman.
A large chunk of the flower bed's edge was blasted away, showering the shotgunner's face with dust and stone chips.
He instinctively closed his eyes and jerked his head back. His second shot from the Double-barreled Shotgun went wide, blasting the ground three meters to Lin An's left and blowing a small crater in the asphalt.
The shotgunner quickly ducked back, fumbling to reload his Double-barreled Shotgun.
Deciding the sawed-off shotgun wasn't any good, Lin An stowed it, still loaded, in the System Store. He took out a Glock, left cover, and began moving to a new position.
The Bullet Screen called out the target's position.
[The shotgunner's reloading. He's got one shell left to load.]
[He's crouching in the corner of the flower bed. Move right. There's a gap in it, where the brick you knocked loose just now was. You can shoot through there.]
Lin An glanced at the Bullet Screen, then moved two steps to the right.
Sure enough, his earlier shot had blasted away part of the flower bed's edge, leaving a gap about twenty centimeters wide.
The shotgunner was crouching less than a meter behind the gap. Part of his face and shoulder showed through it.
Lin An raised his pistol, aimed at the gap, and pulled the trigger. This time, he emptied the entire magazine.
A dense, continuous stream of 9mm bullets struck the flower bed with a crackling sound.
The gunman, having finished reloading, tried to fire, but couldn't raise his head. Amid the wild spray, a bullet passed through the gap in the flower bed.
The shotgunner's body jerked, then slumped to the right. The Double-barreled Shotgun slipped from his hands.
[Hit. He's dead.]
Lin An looked at the body lying motionless behind the flower bed. He ejected the magazine from the Glock 19 and checked it, then tossed the empty magazine into the System Store and took out a full one. With a click, he loaded it, then chambered a round.
After reloading, Lin An didn't stay in place. He turned and retreated along the wall.
Shoot once and run. It never went out of style.
Lin An's position was too exposed now.
The open ground beside the flower bed was bordered by the Church's side wall on the left, the street on the right, and the Rainstorm Gang's position straight ahead.
If he stayed where he was, all the Rainstorm Gang had to do was saturate the area with gunfire, and they could pin him down.
Lin An knew very well that his current advantage was mobility, not marksmanship... apart from not being afraid of death, his aim was terrible.
He retreated behind the iron fence of the Church's side yard and crouched down, hiding himself among the weeds and discarded benches.
Darnell's voice came from behind him, low and tense.
"Bro, you scared the shit out of me..."
Lin An glanced back. Darnell was crouched behind the dumpster, his face full of terror, his eyes wide as saucers.
"Shut up. Stay down,"
Lin An said.
Darnell immediately ducked his head back down.
The bullet screen began giving him live updates.
[Things aren't looking good for the Rainstorm Gang.]
[The bald Black guy is still alive, but he's down to one ally.]
[What? Weren't there four of them still able to fight?]
[The skinny guy got shot in the chest. He's lying on the ground and can't move—he's basically dead.]
[The guy whose ear got torn off was just hit by a stray bullet. He fell behind the SUV; no idea if he's dead or alive.]
[The bald Black guy only has one gunman with him now. He's a fat guy in a gray hoodie, hiding behind the gray sedan.]
[So the Rainstorm Gang only has two people left who can fight?]
[Yeah. Two.]
[What about the Crips?]
[The Crips are wiped out. The ones who aren't dead yet are just waiting to die.]
[So it's two Rainstorm Gang members against the streamer now?]
[No, there are still players.]
[Old Soldier Never Die and the others are still there.]
[But they're in bad shape. Only two of them can still fight. New York Veteran Driver just got killed by a stray bullet. He died as casually as a dog.]
While the bullet screen buzzed with discussion, on the other side of the battlefield, the [College Student], who'd been crouching behind a trash can without firing a shot, was finally spotted by the Rainstorm Gang's fat gunman.
The fat man poked his head out from behind the gray sedan and spotted the tip of a shoe sticking out beside the trash can. Without thinking much of it, he raised his gun and fired.
The bullet struck the side of the trash can, punched a hole through it, and then bored into the [College Student]'s forehead. He pitched forward, his forehead hitting the ground, and never moved again.
The [College Student]'s bullet screen went quiet for half a second before a message floated across it.
[...I'm dead? Fuck, I really am dead. I didn't even get to fire a single shot.]
The bullet screen erupted.
[Useless. What a waste of a slot.]
[Hell, the College Student was such a loser. He really got shot dead without firing once.]
[He should've died ages ago. He was crouching there like a quail.]
[What now? Our New York bro is dead, Arcade is badly wounded, and Old Soldier's the only one left fighting.]
Were all five of them about to be wiped out?
Lin An gave a slight shake of his head.
It was unexpected, yet entirely understandable.
They weren't prepared. Not only were they short on equipment, they weren't mentally ready either. When players who'd come back to life in someone else's body rushed onto a battlefield so hastily, things were bound to go wrong.
It was only natural. It looked like he'd have to step in—and quickly. Even though this place was remote, the New York police wouldn't give him much time.
Before you continue