Chapter 579

Chapter 579: Intimidation

Major Mo, the embassy military attaché, could not disclose to Lin Mo the activities of the intelligence department in America nor what the pursuers wanted from him. After all, the "Fenrir" alloy was crucial to national power, and the embassy’s level of authority did not permit sharing that information with Lin Mo. Most intelligence personnel involved in the operation were also kept in the dark.

Even though the CIA had plans to benefit at Lockheed’s expense, the world’s largest arms dealer could hardly be seen as qualified for such leeway. However, Major Mo did inform Lin Mo about the groups that had targeted him.

It was clear he was letting Lin Mo know, although they had taken the fall for the intelligence department, the reasons behind it were beyond their understanding, buried deep within the hearts of many, and would remain secret until death. Yet this allowed Lin Mo to keep the authority to seek revenge in the future.

International competition has never known complete peace. Lin Mo’s department would inevitably clash with these organizations, and if he encountered them on future missions, he would have all the reason to select especially powerful bombs to obliterate them.

This was a small favor from the intelligence department to Lin Mo, a necessary move for deeper and wider cooperation in the future, especially with an ace pilot who had combat privileges beyond borders. Their partnership had always been close—Lin Mo had saved the intelligence department from trouble more than once, and they had also been there to clean up after him.

It was bad luck for Lockheed personnel, who, banking on their connection with the CIA, had ambushed Lin Mo at the hotel. After Lin Mo returned to the hotel, Major Mo pointed out to him the Lockheed personnel lurking at the entrance, waiting like wolves for an opportunity.

When enemies meet, the tension escalates. Lin Mo, while testing his sword, suddenly spotted Mitch Friedman outside the hotel. With Major Mo’s guidance, he recognized the troublemaker without any difficulty. Now, Mitch Friedman, head of Lockheed Operations, no longer held any advantage of information asymmetry; he was trapped.

……

"Mr. Labory, here is the renewal agreement. This is our seven percent discount offer, and we kindly ask for a thirty percent deposit. Thank you very much for allowing our hotel to continue serving you."

Hotel manager Numi Dick handed the finalized agreement to the representative from Boeing. Boeing had lost four sixth-generation fighter experimental machines, F/A-XX, resulting in significant losses. The out-of-control machines had even shot down two F-22 Raptors.

Although there were no casualties, just frightened pilots, Boeing had indirectly slapped Lockheed in the face. To investigate the cause, Boeing initiated a technical review of the source code and an internal check at Area 51. They had no choice but to keep their aviation experts team in America for an extended stay. If things had gone according to the original plan, the showcase would have wrapped up, shifting into the final entertainment schedule by now.

However, with the F/A-XX fighters unaccounted for, the final appreciation event could not be held. To eliminate any suspicions concerning the various national aviation experts, Boeing had to foot the bill for their comfortable confinement in the hotel while secretly conducting investigations.

The accommodation costs were covered by each country, but all expenses incurred during their stay had to be covered by Boeing—over a thousand people meant substantial expenses. If not, the other countries would have walked away without a second thought, leaving only politicians to bicker at worst. Countries capable of independently producing fighter jets were not to be trifled with; the aviation industry was a mark of a nation’s industrial prowess.

"Okay! Mr. Dick!"

Labory signed the agreement and stamped it with the official seal, pulling out a blank check that had already been signed and sealed but limited in amount. He filled in the deposit figure.

Boeing granted him considerable authority, allowing him to write anywhere between one million and nine hundred ninety-nine thousand dollars.

As he handed over the check, Labory glanced outside the office window and suddenly froze. The hotel manager’s office had a clear view of the entrance.

"What’s wrong, Mr. Labory?" Numi Dick noticed Labory’s suddenly strange expression.

"I think the landscaping outside your entrance needs some work." Labory continued to gaze out the window, not turning his head.

"How could that be?"

Numi Dick was puzzled by Labory’s odd remarks. Following Labory’s gaze outside, he seemed to see something unbelievable, mouth agape, unable to close it for a long time, mumbling, "You’re right, Mr. Labory!"

The sounds of the air conditioning in the room suddenly became pronounced, one after the other.

……

Mitch Friedman never expected that just twenty meters away, Lin Mo would swing that giant sword and unleash a force that swept towards them like an unstoppable tide.

The carefully trimmed hedges by the roadside looked as if they had been sliced by an unmatched sharp blade, leaves flying wildly as they were brutally cut down, creating a horrifying scene like that of a gardener with terrible skills.

“Get down!”

Seeing this scene outside the hotel, several CIA agents shouted, just like they would on a battlefield when encountering a grenade. The Lockheed personnel instinctively covered their heads and dropped to the ground, while Mitch Friedman was also pulled down by his men.

Even though the people at Lockheed Operations were not very useful in some matters, their reactions were remarkably quick.

It wasn’t just a simple swing of a sword blade; this was a special technique that only the Dragon Knights could master. Only aerial knights who were extremely sensitive to airflow could control this technique, creating deadly supersonic wind pressure through air disturbance.

This technique was specifically applied when Battle Energy was insufficient, using airflow to generate lethal effects. Reliant solely on physical strength to create a magical sword technique, it possessed terrifying lethality at close range, especially against soft targets, but it would be ineffective against solid metal armor.

“Mr. Mitch Friedman, we finally meet! You’ve been very sneaky!”

Lin Mo unceremoniously kicked aside a couple of extra guys like he would shoo away a dog and hoisted the head of Lockheed Operations up from the ground, dragging him toward the hotel by his collar like a dead dog.

The CIA agents around them had already reacted, but upon seeing the gleaming Giant Sword and the messy landscaping, they couldn’t help but swallow hard.

Their small handguns seemed completely powerless against the Giant Sword. Even without being sharpened, the sword’s weight made it formidable, and a slight movement would render the 9mm handguns utterly useless.

The agents had just begun to make a move when it seemed like they received a collective command to step back.

The CIA head, Colonel Jett, had received a warning from Major Mo, the embassy military attaché at the Chinese embassy. This was a personal grudge; it was best for the intelligence departments to stay out of it.

Although there were laws for countries, the intelligence department was the least constrained group. Under mutual restraint, the CIA had to abide by the unspoken rules, pretending not to see, allowing the unfortunate Lockheed personnel to be bullied.

“Mr. Dragon Knight, what a pleasure!” Mitch Friedman trembled like a leaf, forcing a smile that looked worse than a cry. Damn it! How could this behind-the-scenes figure have been recognized? Had someone betrayed him?

He knew that if he denied everything, the consequences would definitely be more shameful than death. The guy in front of him was a ruthless killer who disregarded human life, and the closer he got to him, the more trouble he would be in.

But it was too late to think about that; this guy was right in front of him, still wielding that terrifying weapon.

Goodness, even Bartley didn’t have anything as frightening as this. Who could be so wicked to create something like this? To eliminate him, all it would take was to slam him to the ground like Little Chicken, wasn’t that just torture?

“Hmm! Good! I believe my recent misfortunes must be related to you,” Lin Mo said as he tossed Mitch Friedman at the hotel entrance, his hand shaking as the nearly two-meter Giant Sword brushed against Mitch’s neck, sinking deep into the ground as if cutting through tofu, creating a two-foot deep mark.

“Oh my God, this is really the devil,” Mitch Friedman nearly lost control, paralyzed with fear.

Some CIA agents turned away, unable to bear the gruesome sight, knowing this was a clear case of killing the chicken to scare the monkey.

The Dragon Knight was venting the frustrations of having been hunted down these past few days, with Lockheed’s personnel being the unfortunate chicken.

“Let’s settle the score here. Don’t think I know nothing. Someone has already told me that you Lockheed have repeatedly gone after me. The last request I made has received no response, it seems you really don’t take me seriously. Hmph, here we are in America, and I happen to be right here. If the monk runs away, the temple won’t, and I know exactly where Lockheed is. So I’ll take my time and settle things with you Lockheed, and we’ll see if you still have the guts to act tough.”

Mitch Friedman had no doubt that Lin Mo could accomplish this, and he immediately screamed, “No, no, you can’t do this!”

Seeing the indifferent CIA agents, Mitch Friedman’s teeth ground together in anger. These people wasting taxpayer money were utterly despicable, not coming forward to help. He quickly said, “This is America. If you really go through with this, the American government won’t let you off the hook. The CIA is right here; if you don’t want more trouble for yourself, you’d better not do this.”