Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 734

Bang!

A bullet ripped through the wall of rain, obliterating the century-old pillar of The Portico with terrifying precision.

"!"

Manager Hughes was trembling so violently his legs nearly gave out. He stared blankly at Cyril beside him. If Cyril hadn't yanked him down at the last split second, his head would have been blown off just like the last guy.

A few yards away on the grass lay a man, a bloody hole drilled through the center of his forehead, his eyes glassy. The pooling rainwater quickly washed away the crimson spreading beneath him.

Cyril and his team remained crouched at the edge of The Portico, relying on the slope's natural cover to desperately catch their breath.

They had been ambushed mere moments ago. A sniper had locked onto them from their twelve o'clock. Since they had been rushing to reunite with Julian at The Covered Bridge, their guard had been down, and the sniper had instantly executed the young man standing right next to Cyril.

The shot was entirely unanticipated. Even Cyril had frozen in shock.

He immediately ordered his men into cover, utilizing the raging storm to obscure their movements while frantically scanning their surroundings.

To achieve a perfect target lock in weather like this meant the sniper was incredibly skilled and wielding top-tier, heavy-duty military weaponry. He had crossed paths with The Raiders before—they didn't possess this kind of terrifying capability.

Cyril's face turned exceptionally grim as he stared thoughtfully at the corpse on the lawn.

The fact that these assailants fired directly at him proved they weren't Dorian's assassins. If they weren't The Raiders and they weren't Dorian's men, then they definitely weren't Preston's goons, either. Preston only had access to weapons from The Shooting Range, and toy guns like that couldn't exert this kind of suffocating pressure.

None of those factions fit, which meant...

A dark realization flashed in Cyril's eyes.

There was another faction!

An entirely unknown squad of professional killers had infiltrated the resort!

"Boss, what do we do? Our path is cut off. We should fall back."

"No retreating!" At this moment, every ounce of Cyril's usual gentle demeanor had vanished. "Our mission is to regroup at the stone pillars of The Covered Bridge. Didn't you want a chance to redeem yourselves? Take one step back, and you'll be dead men walking."

"But..." His men looked utterly terrified. There was no path forward!

"No buts." Cyril pressed his ear against the ground, straining to listen. "I hear rushing water. Are we close to The Inner Lake?"

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