novelraw Chapter 297: Arrogant Iron Cross
Chapter 297: Arrogant Iron Cross
The White Ghost’s movement halted less than an inch from the target position, the head behind the white ceramic mask turning toward the sound.
A cold, murderous glint flashed in the eyes beneath the mask.
Brewer’s reaction was even more direct.
The former Texas Ranger turned at the sound, his Spencer shotgun steady and aimed at the huge stained-glass window of the church, now reduced to a twisted lead framework.
“Who’s there?!” His voice was low, like an angered lion, “Come out!”
Under their vigilant gaze, three figures in long black trench coats emerged from the thick green miasma around the church.
They advanced in a standard tactical wedge formation, disciplined and measured, converging on Lin Jie and the others from three directions: the left and right flanks and the main entrance.
Leading them was a white man in his thirties, blond hair and blue eyes, with a stern, severe face.
His chin was clean-shaven, his expression dripping with lofty arrogance.
On his trench coat collar was a conspicuous iron cross badge forged from pure iron. He was clearly the squad’s leader.
Flanking him were two burly, hard-edged teammates.
One was hulking and bear-like, hefting a massive steam-powered war hammer.
The other was leaner, with two short-handled sickles at his waist, curved in a grotesque arc like fangs.
“I’ll say this again.”
The blond captain swept his gaze across the three inside the church, finally locking his sight on Lin Jie.
“Drop those filthy, low-grade toys you’re holding. Then, like the lowly people you are supposed to be, crawl out of this hunting ground that doesn’t belong to you.”
“This trophy,” he indicated the Madonna statue on the altar, which was oozing green pus, “...belongs to the nobler and more efficient Iron Cross.”
Iron Cross.
This was a European freelance hunter organization, not the top tier in the inner world, made up of former German officers and extreme nationalists. They were infamous for their radical Germanic Aryan supremacy ideology and their cold-blooded brutality.
Files about the organization flickered through Lin Jie’s mind.
Brewer’s square, justice-hardened face flushed a deep purplish-red.
“You said what… lowly people?!”
As a legendary former Texas sheriff, the one thing Brewer could not tolerate was discrimination and arrogance rooted in bloodline and race.
He lifted the muzzle of his shotgun, the safety snapping off with a “click,” and the provocation sparks flew between them in the air.
“I don’t care if you’re ‘Iron Cross’ or ‘junk metal’! Now get out of my sight! Or I won’t mind letting your heads taste a little of my version of ‘justice’!”
The atmosphere snapped taut, ready to erupt at any moment.
The German captain only sneered contemptuously at Brewer’s threat, as if looking down on a barbarian who lacked manners.
“A shotgun designed for animals with no brains,” he scoffed, “and you, someone fit only to chase drunks and cattle thieves in dusty frontier towns.”
His gaze then slid to the silent White Ghost.
“A pitiful Faceless One who hides behind a mask and shadow.”
Finally his eyes returned to Lin Jie, disdain peaking.
“And… a yellow monkey who crawled out of some filthy colonial corner.”
“You and your pathetic ragtag force dare… interfere with a Kingdom-class quarry?”
The Iron Cross captain produced something from beneath his trench coat.
It was a heavily modified Smith & Wesson Model 3. A long barrel, an external magazine. What made the firearm most striking was the barbed wire coiled around the frame and grip, flashing with an uncanny metallic sheen.
Grotesque Armament—Discipline.
“I’ll give you three seconds to decide.”
He raised Discipline, the muzzle pointing squarely at Brewer’s brow.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Stop.”
Just before the captain could count “three,” a voice interrupted the countdown.
It was Lin Jie who spoke.
Brewer turned toward Lin Jie, surprised. He didn’t understand why Lin Jie would stop him now.
Lin Jie stepped forward two paces to stand beside Brewer, facing the Iron Cross captain head-on.
“Captain,” Lin Jie showed neither anger nor fear on his face, “I think there may be a small misunderstanding between us.”
“Misunderstanding?” The captain’s face curled into a mocking grin.
“Precisely.” Lin Jie nodded. “We are not here to steal your prize.”
“We are only here at the behest of I.A.R.C.’s New Orleans branch to conduct a preliminary survey and assessment of contamination in this area.”
“As for purifying this node…” Lin Jie gestured toward the Madonna statue oozing pus on the altar, wearing an expression of helplessness, “...that was only a defensive measure we had to take to ensure our own safety.”
“Now that a more professional and capable team like yours has arrived, we would be more than willing to leave the subsequent purification work to you.”
Brewer’s brow furrowed tightly at those words. The Iron Cross captain’s mockery deepened when he heard Lin Jie’s seemingly compliant statement.
“Oh? So you’re prepared to… back down?”
“Of course.” Lin Jie smiled and spread his hands in a ‘be my guest’ gesture. “After all, compared to the professional Iron Cross, our ragtag unit is indeed limited in ability.”
“Good, you showed some sense.”
Arrogance reached its peak on the Iron Cross captain’s face. To him, the Eastern man before him was simply a coward cowed by the captain’s imposing aura into groveling for his life.
He lowered Discipline, ready to savor his perfect victory of “subduing the enemy without fighting.”
But in the sliver of time when his attention and spirit relaxed—
The hulking teammate beside the captain, the one holding the steam war hammer, suddenly had the matchbox he had casually kicked to light a kerosene lamp explode with a loud “bang!” at his feet.
Dozens of match heads detonated as if triggered by an invisible force, scattering in all directions.
“What?!”
Startled by the unexpected blast, the teammate instinctively took a step back.
The Iron Cross captain’s expression also soured. His gaze swept toward the second-floor area.
But there was nothing there but darkness.
Before he could determine whether it was coincidence or a warning—
“Watch out!”
The lean teammate armed with double sickles let out a terrified scream.
At the center of the church ceiling, the hemp rope suspending the huge prayer bell suddenly developed a small hole smoking faintly.
The next moment, the rope, unable to bear the bell’s weight, snapped with a sharp crack.
A massive bronze prayer bell, weighing several hundred pounds, plunged from nearly twenty meters up and crashed down toward the hulking teammate who had been standing directly beneath it, startled by the matchbox blast.