Miss Beautiful C.E.O and her system

Chapter 578 Ambushed POV

The road was littered with burning wreckage, smoke billowing into the night sky. All eight vehicles had been disabled or destroyed, reduced to twisted metal and flames.

Rain failed to quell the inferno. A few splashes of lightning shed visions. Bodies lay scattered along the road, some lifeless, others writhing in pain, groaning as they struggled to move. The survivors, disoriented and terrified, scrambled to dismount from the wrecks, their adrenaline spiking as they faced the sudden, unseen threat.

"Get out! Get out now!" a man shouted, his voice breaking with panic. His leg was twisted, a deep gash oozing blood, but he ignored the pain as he dragged himself away from the overturned SUV, crawling toward the ditch on the side of the road.

Others followed suit, some limping, others sprinting into the dark, firing blindly in all directions. Gunfire crackled through the night as rifles discharged in panicked bursts, though no target was visible. The survivors shot at the shadows, at trees, at anything that moved.

"Where are they?!" someone screamed, eyes wide with terror as he fired his AK-47 into the air. "Where are the shooters?!"

"They're close! They're close!" yelled another, spraying rounds into the trees, the muzzle flash lighting up his panicked face. His heart hammered in his chest as he squeezed the trigger, praying that the bullets would hit something—anything.

Chieung Sam, who had been the first to abandon his vehicle, took cover behind a boulder at the edge of the road, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Sweat poured down his face, and his hands trembled as he reloaded his rifle. "Everyone, fall back! Fall back to the tree line!" he barked, but his voice was lost in the chaos.

Another man was leaning against the side of a burning truck, his leg trapped beneath the twisted metal. His voice was hoarse from shouting for help, but no one came. He saw the flashes of gunfire in the distance and could hear the screams of his comrades, but the pain in his leg kept him pinned, helpless. "Help me! Please!" he cried, eyes darting around in desperation.

But the others were too focused on their own survival. One by one, they fled the scene, darting toward the trees in a frantic bid for cover. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and burning fuel. The gunfire was erratic now—random bursts from survivors who were running and shooting at the same time, too scared to aim.

Some of the men took cover behind the smoldering wrecks, peeking out to fire a few shots before ducking back down, hoping it would be enough to keep the attackers at bay. But in truth, they had no idea where the ambushers were. The night concealed their enemies, and the terror of the unknown gnawed at their nerves.

"Move, damn it!" Chieung Sam shouted again, seeing a few men frozen in place, still staring at the wrecks. His eyes darted toward the road. In the flickering light of the fires, he could see the silhouettes of several bodies—unmoving, their blood pooling around them. His heart sank.

Whoosh! Bang!

Suddenly, a new excruciating thud ripped through the night, this time from the rear of the convoy. One of the fleeing survivors, a man in his twenties, was struck in the back.

His abdomen was left with a giant hole. He staggered forward, dropping his rifle, before collapsing face-first into the dirt. The bullet impact came first before the sonic boom followed.

"They're picking us off!" someone yelled from behind the cover of a wrecked truck. "We've got to get out of here!"

"They're all around us!" another voice added, his tone frantic. The survivors were unraveling, their formation breaking apart as the realization hit: they were being hunted.

In the chaos, Chieung Sam, one of the few still able to think clearly, crouched behind a wreck and surveyed the road, his eyes scanning the trees. He spotted the flashes of rifles being fired in the distance—or so he thought—and then it hit him—those snipers weren't close at all. They were far away, well out of range of their own weapons.@@@@

Obviously, a bullet punched through double doors and struck him. The momentum blasted him toward the asphalt.

His body twitched unconsciously as he glanced at his lower body in disbelief. Blood gushed out, beginning to dye the road red.

Silence—nobody spoke. A loud boom signaled death's chant. The man's soul had left the living world.

Their thoughts were completely overwhelmed.

That man had clearly stayed behind cover. He should have survived even if a bullet managed to penetrate those steels. Could the cover they chose withstand the power?

"Ahhh!" A man bellowed and made a run from the burning car, trying to dash toward his companions, who were at a 'safe' location.

"Don't!" everyone warned.

Sure enough, in spite of their poor vision, their eyes captured the man's head exploding into pieces. Lightning displayed brain matter—white and red substances littered all around.

The headless body walked a few steps and crashed downward, syncing with the oncoming sonic bang.

"MAMA! Help me! I was wrong!" a few cried and sniffled.

"Please don't kill us! Lord, save us, poor lambs!" Some prayed for forgiveness. They had never witnessed such utter horrors of destruction. From the beginning, none of the corpses remained in one piece. Continue reading on My Virtual Library Empire

Chieung Sam had breathing difficulties, the warm wetness underneath contradicted the rainfall. Only then did he realize he had peed in fright.

The sight deterred several who were planning to run from their positions, where they had taken cover behind the wrecked vehicles.

One by one, they were picked off. No metal obstacles managed to block the attacks. Seeing the brothers who laughed and joked around days ago now cold, without complete bodies, the survivors whimpered.

Running equaled death. Doing nothing was also death. Their hearts despaired. Their mere action was to pray devoutly, begging for mercy in the hopes that the obstacles miraculously stopped the heavy bullets.

Where were the moments when they made fun of the victims who sought prayers while being tortured? Where was the time when they let the victims ask the gods and Buddha they believed in?

They had thought too much. You reap what you sow.

.50 caliber were manufactured to punch through conventional Armored Fighting Vehicles. Even concrete walls and bricks couldn't withstand the penetrating force. If not one, then two; else, three bullets1