Harris pulled his hat down low, almost covering half of his face, holding a barely touched beer in his hand.

This wasn’t a place he would usually go, but it was where the other party insisted on meeting.

Did they really think this gang territory would keep them off the police’s radar?

Quite the opposite, any unfamiliar face in such a place would draw attention, and a number of those gang members could very well be police informants.

The other party clearly didn’t understand this principle.

"Bring the stuff out, the one million in cash you wanted is in that truck," Harris gestured toward the pickup truck parked at the entrance.

Cole followed his gaze and gulped, "I need to check first."

Harris sighed helplessly, "I’m the highest-level user on the dark web, and you shouldn’t question my credibility."

However, he shrugged and said, "If you want to check, do it quickly. I don’t want to get arrested here."

"Of course... of course." Cole’s eyelid twitched, and he unconsciously swallowed.

He glanced at Harris, then stood up and walked toward the bar’s door.

But he hadn’t taken more than two steps before Harris suddenly called out from behind him, "Wait!"

Cole stopped and turned around, a hint of cold sweat appearing on his forehead.

He tried to look calm, "What is it?"

Harris didn’t speak immediately. His gaze stayed on Cole’s face for two seconds, then he pointed under the chair, "You dropped something."

Cole froze, looked down, and saw a lighter on the ground.

But it wasn’t his; he didn’t smoke at all.

However, Cole seemed uninterested in offering an explanation, forcing a stiff smile and bending down to pick up the lighter, and then continued toward the bar’s exit.

As he turned, Harris’s face darkened. He quietly observed the surroundings, then stood up and headed for the back door, calling out softly, "Something’s off with that guy, retreat!"

"What about the money?" someone asked through his earpiece.

"Forget it! Move now!" Harris decided decisively.

But just then, the sound of a chair toppling came from behind, followed by a loud shout, "FBI! Get down!"

Almost simultaneously, several people stood up from different corners of the bar, showing their weapons, all aiming at Harris.

Outside the bar, police lights flashed, and the piercing sound of sirens rang out.

"Fuck!"

Harris cursed angrily without a second hesitation. Upon hearing "FBI," his body reacted immediately.

He crossed his hands to his waist, drawing two folding submachine guns from under his trench coat, and began shooting at the two nearest FBI agents!

"Dada-dada-dada!"

The sudden gunfire erupted, throwing the bar into chaos.

"Shit!"

Some patrons screamed and scattered, some gang members, realizing what was happening, cursed angrily, efficiently diving to the ground, drawing handguns from their waists and firing blindly, creating total pandemonium.

The two agents in front of Harris were pinned down by the submachine gunfire, unable to get up, and could only cower behind the booth for cover.

Harris didn’t heed the warnings behind him, sprinting wildly towards the back door a few meters away – standing still at this moment would be idiotic.

Seeing him disobey orders, the agents showed no leniency and immediately opened fire.

"Bang bang bang!"

Bullets whizzed past, shattering bottles and tables into pieces.

Harris ducked and turned, continuously firing to suppress them.

"Get to the back door to pick me up! Quick!"

He kept shooting while moving backward toward the door.

At that moment, Harris was a warrior, not backing down even against a dozen agents.

Cursing under his breath, he fired wildly.

Amid the rain of bullets, the magazine of his submachine gun was emptied.

Without hesitation, he discarded it, reloading with one hand, continuing to fire at the agents while reaching for the doorknob of the back door with the other hand.

"Poof~"

A bullet pierced his shoulder, erupting a spray of blood, the force staggering him.

Harris grunted, gritting his teeth, enduring the pain to pull open the back door.

"Bang! Bang!"

Another shot hit his arm, causing the submachine gun to drop, and another hit his thigh, making him lose balance and fall forward uncontrollably.

"Fuck!"

It’s over!

A trace of despair crossed Harris’s eyes.

"Don’t move!"

The FBI agents, seeing he was disarmed, advanced to apprehend him.

However, in that split second—

"Boom!!!"

An explosive roar came from the side wall of the bar, bricks flying!

A massive opening was smashed open from the outside, and the front of a Chevrolet Suburban rammed in, blocking Harris from the agents.

Then, several grenades were tossed out the car window toward the agents, as the roar of submachine guns resumed.

"Quick! Quick!"

The Suburban’s passenger door was kicked open, and a henchman jumped out of the car.

While covering fire with a submachine gun, he helped Harris into the passenger seat.

"Clink clink clink!" Bullets struck the car body, making a series of sharp sounds.

"Hold on tight!" The driver shouted, flooring the gas pedal!

The Suburban’s engine roared ferociously, tires burning rubber and smoke as the massive vehicle reversed like a rampaging bull, crashing through the breached wall opening!

The henchman who had shot his bullets through ran out the opening, rolling to cover behind the Suburban, quickly opening the door and slipping inside.

"Bang bang bang!"

More bullets chased after them, all hitting the bulletproof glass.

"Go!"

The Suburban performed a deft drift, then accelerated down the alley, crashing into parked cars trying to escape.

At that moment, fierce headlights lit up the opposite alley entrance, and two police cars charged forward, blocking the way, as agents fired at the vehicle ceaselessly.

Gunfire erupted again on the street outside the bar’s main entrance, the henchmen whom Harris brought were pinned down by those agents, unable to offer support.

"Fuck!" Harris cursed, eyes red with rage, yelling, "Ram through them!"

The henchman in the backseat leaned forward with a grenade, lowering the window and hurling it directly ahead.

The grenade arced through the air, rolling beneath one of the police cars.

"Grenade! Take cover!"

The agents nearby frantically sought cover.

"Boom——!"

The violent explosion flipped one police car high, flames erupted, and the windshield of another police car shattered instantly.

The Suburban roared without slowing down, bursting through the siege in a burst of fury.

The driver floored the accelerator, tires squealing as they sped through the streets.

Soon, the piercing sirens blared from behind again. In the rearview mirror, Harris saw the agents abandoning their fight with his henchmen, focusing all pursuit on him, the main target.

Harris held his profusely bleeding shoulder, his face pale but his eyes still fierce.

He gritted his teeth, pulled out his phone, and hurriedly searched for Qi Yun’s number.

The uproar was massive, the surrounding police forces must be converging from all directions, escape seemed highly improbable today.

In this situation, reaching out to his boss wouldn’t help; his only hope lay with Qi Yun, or rather, Qi Yun’s elder.

In their morning call, Qi Yun mentioned he was in Washington with Fu Wentao, a truly influential figure who might save him.

"Qi! I’m in a fucking ambush! That guy’s dodgy! FBI in Washington!" Harris shouted urgently the moment the call connected, frantic and disoriented.

"I’m in the Caverston Community, with at least seven or eight cars chasing me!"

On the other end of the line, Qi Yun’s face turned grim — so there was trouble after all...

The bigger the waves, the bigger the fish, but damn it, most people drowned in them....