Hamid hadn’t yet realised that he was the target.
He thought the real aim of these men was Wanlong Hall, perhaps another mercenary group in competition with them.
So, he began to ponder his own situation. Since they wanted to stage a major event and pin the blame on Wanlong Hall, they were surely planning a massacre here tonight.
What, then, would become of him and his two wives?
He had come here under a false identity, bringing no bodyguards to avoid drawing attention. Now, he was utterly helpless, with no one to turn to.
In the depths of his despair, he suddenly spotted Jacob Wilson and Elaine among the crowd, crouching with their hands on their heads.
At that moment, he felt a wave of relief, “These two are Brother Wade’s in-laws… surely Brother Wade won’t stand by and do nothing? If I can hold out until he shows up, won’t I be saved?”
“Back then, Brother Wade stormed my base alone, unnoticed by anyone, and no one could stand against him. Dealing with these people should be no trouble for him.”
With this thought, he glanced towards the entrance, eyeing the armed men in black guarding the door, and sighed inwardly, “Brother Wade, why didn’t you come to the party? If you were here, you’d have these idiots subdued in the blink of an eye. If you don’t know what’s happening here, what then? It’s one thing if you can’t save me, but if you can’t save your in-laws, how will you explain it to your wife…?”
Meanwhile, the leader of the black-clad men stole a glance at Hamid, noticing his frequent looks towards the entrance. He wondered, “Is this guy dreaming of someone coming to rescue him? I’ve known his every move. He came here on holiday without any entourage. Who could possibly save him?”
With this in mind, the leader had already planned his next steps.
Once communication was restored, he would have the tourists and celebrities start a live broadcast, carry out a massacre during the stream, kill Hamid, pin all the blame on Wanlong Hall, and then escape before the Maldivian military arrived. It was a flawless plan.
At that moment, Charlie wade had silently approached the bar.
Seeing several black-clad men escorting the island’s manager out of the bar, he knew they must be heading to fix the network. With his spiritual energy covering the entire bar, he sensed the situation inside was relatively stable and deduced their intent: they wouldn’t start a massacre until the network was restored.
So, Charlie wade quietly followed the men and the manager. When they left the bar’s perimeter guards’ sight and entered a winding, dense jungle path on White Horse Island, he suddenly spoke from behind, “You lot, stop right there!”
The black-clad men jumped, immediately turning and aiming their guns at Charlie wade, their dark barrels pointed straight at him. One of them barked, “Who are you? Looking for death?”
The manager recognised Charlie wade as a guest on the island and hurriedly said, “Mr. Wade, don’t be rash. They… they really will kill! There are bodies outside the restaurant, blood everywhere!”
Charlie wade smiled calmly, “Don’t worry. They might kill others, but they can’t kill me.”
The man in the middle, realising Charlie wade was likely an island guest, cursed, “You idiot, you think we’re filming a movie? Die!”
With that, he moved to pull the trigger without hesitation.
But the next second, he found that the trigger, usually so easy to pull, was as if welded to the gun, immovable no matter how hard he tried.
His arm bulged with veins from the effort, his finger on the trigger nearly breaking from the strain, pain shooting through his joints. Sweat beaded on his face and head, yet the trigger wouldn’t budge.
Shocked, he shouted to the others, “Something’s wrong with this guy! Quick, shoot him!”
They immediately tried to fire, but their triggers, like his, wouldn’t move an inch!
Terrified, they shouted, “Captain, my gun’s jammed, I can’t shoot!”
“Mine too…”
The captain reached for his communicator to call for backup, only to find his hand inexplicably frozen.
Cold sweat poured from him as he looked at Charlie wade and asked nervously, “Who the hell are you? Is this your doing?”
