Chapter 125: And I Am Waiting for You

Chapter 125: Chapter 125: And I Am Waiting for You

Watching Team Red finish changing their tires and get ready to leave, Jay Monroe felt a burning in his throat, itching to rush down with a submachine gun and bang-bang, blow a few heads off.

But he knew, if he did that, he’d be out of the game too. He’s here for the championship—how could he afford to get eliminated now?

Jay’s elegantly sharp eyes were ablaze, helplessly watching Team Red board their vehicles, engines revving, the rear squad following in perfect formation.

Gone...

He closed his eyes and beat the ground in frustration, but then he heard an odd sound in the air, opened his eyes again, and saw the vehicles that had just started suddenly come to a halt...

No wonder it felt familiar—is that Renee Morgan’s homemade mini crossbow?

Jay pressed the comm against his chest, head lowered, murmuring softly, "Morgan..."

"Mm." Renee replied without opening her mouth, her voice barely audible, as if you could sense how steady her breath was.

Jay: "...Last time I wanted you to come back to Freyos with me—that was my mistake."

Seeing him moved by her, awakening his conscience, Renee felt somewhat gratified deep inside...

But now wasn’t the time to chat.

Before she could reply, Jay spoke again, his voice echoing with the gravitas of Machiavelli from The War of Three Scepters—low, steady, steeped in hard-earned wisdom—quiet but carrying over the hills, striking right at the core.

He said, "Renee, as your partner, I sincerely invite you to join us."

Renee’s mind reflexively recalled a recently viral quote from an online video—the original line spoken by Machiavelli, especially "Cloud-render" and "Renee," the mood matching almost perfectly.

Renee was hardly a fan of The War of Three Scepters, but as a drama major, she’d chewed through countless scripts at school—art imitating life, and to truly understand a script takes endless reading.

This line, she remembered exactly where it came from.

It was Machiavelli, the ruthless warlord, at his closest moment to capture—after his humiliating defeat at the Battle of Azure Bridge, Mak was fleeing in disgrace.

He and his men were exhausted; at the mouth of Huaron Way, they stopped.

Just then, a massive force charged their way, led by none other than the war god Lancelot Grant, with his red-figured face and magnificent beard.

The moment Machiavelli saw Lancelot, he knew fighting was impossible; there was only one hope—rely on his silver tongue and work the bonds of friendship.

At the brink of death, facing Lancelot’s unwavering honor, Machiavelli put on his most persuasive act, opening with that famous line.

"Cloud-render, even separated by miles, I can feel the chill of your great blade.

Since we parted at Xuchang, I see you often in my dreams, always hoping for a day we could drink together in peace. Yet here we meet, stranded at the end of the road."

Lancelot Grant, known as Cloud-render.

Jay Monroe may not be the Machiavelli of legends, but his skills at persuasion were hardly lacking.

He originally wanted to drag her back to Freyos and sell her off—but after discovering her talent, he’s now trying to rope her in, to build something big together.

This guy, truly incorrigible.

Hugh and Louis had just settled into their seats, their bodies still burning from exertion, the AC yet to cool them down, when suddenly the car screeched to a halt.

Louis stared at Hugh: "Did you see which direction that thing was fired from?"

Hugh shook his head. The distance was too great, glass separating them; he couldn’t confirm where it came from, so he gave a different answer: "A hundred meters away."

Louis’ eyes widened: "From a hundred meters out, someone using that thing manages to pierce our tires?"

Is that even scientific?

Two more tires blew out; now the whole car was out of commission. They were close to Team Red Tower so they’d have to abandon the car and walk, waiting for backup from the tower.

After stepping out, Hugh and Louis looked at their team, then suddenly turned to the highest point of the mountain.

From the distance and terrain, was it this spot?

Jay had been preparing, waiting for this; the moment Hugh turned, Jay locked on and gently squeezed the trigger...

"Bang!"

The instant the sniper rifle fired, Team Red—already on alert—immediately crouched, guns angled toward the mountain.

Louis stayed behind Hugh, constantly watching the mountain. As the shot rang out, he sprang forward, tackling Hugh aside.

At the same time, the air whistled—an arrow shot out, stabbing into the arm of one member holding a rifle.

This wasn’t a blank for competition—it had real impact, a homemade crossbow weapon.

If a twig can pierce a tire, it can certainly pierce flesh.

Everyone’s brows jumped hard, instinctively looking for the source.

Out of the corner of their eyes, the arrow embedded in the arm kept trembling, its tail a quivering threat, standing upright, blood sliding down and splashing onto the mud.

Hugh’s cold gaze locked on the wound—the glaring red enough to drive someone mad. He pressed his thin lips together: "Louis, hand me my rifle."

Louis went to the seat and brought out the sniper rifle, passing it to him.

Hugh lifted it in both hands, aimed at their direction, bent in a cross step for slow advance, his stance precise—instinctively avoiding three fatal lines of sight from his helmet.

He gestured, signaling the people behind to follow.

The squad advanced with rifles, matching Hugh’s angle, moving up toward the mountain step by step.

Jay gripped his sniper rifle, sweat blurring his vision, stinging painfully.

This battle was improvised, no detail planned.

Maybe it was mutual trust, maybe just instinct—but Jay believed Renee wouldn’t put him in danger.

Renee hadn’t told him to back off, so he readied himself to face the enemy.

Jay’s sniper rifle was aimed right at Team Red, step by step hiking upward beneath him.

"Whoosh"

Another arrow whistled—its force wasn’t a raging storm, but somehow was more ferocious. The Red squad was prepared, yet still someone got hit in the arm.

This time the wounded member couldn’t fight through the pain; their rifle dropped, screaming as they clutched the bleeding arm, turning in shock toward the source of the attack.

Now was the moment.

Jay quickly took aim and pulled the trigger...

"Bang"

The Red team member clutching their arm glared, rolling their eyes up at the smoke drifting overhead.

The sky-blue awaits the mist and rain, and I await you.

Somehow, the mood was dead-on.

"Team Blue sniper Jay Monroe scores one point, total now twenty-eight."

Jay Monroe—that name brought anger to the faces of Team Red.

Hugh quickly pinpointed Jay’s position, assigned four members to form a small squad approaching Jay, while the others kept advancing cautiously.

Jay’s the sniper, but who made those custom weapons?

Jay watched as Team Red rushed up from below; once they made it, he’d inevitably be forced to reveal himself.