Rock had just spent 100 points upgrading Kung Fu, leaving him with only 250, not enough to upgrade the skill he originally wanted.
But without that Kung Fu upgrade, the armed pursuers might have surrounded Camilla before he even made it out of the bushes.
You never knew how a choice would turn out until the very end, but at least each one served its purpose when it mattered.
Rock invested all 250 remaining experience points into Rifle Shooting.
The system display immediately changed.
He needed fewer than 100 experience points to reach advanced level.
Taking down another two opponents might earn him enough Experience Cards to close the gap.
A stream of information accompanied by a warm current flowed through his entire body.
The skin on his fingers became tougher without losing sensitivity, and the rifle in his arms suddenly felt far more familiar.
Rock reached into the cardboard wrapping and hooked his finger around the FN FAL’s trigger.
Twisting awkwardly to the left, he turned and sprayed bullets at the two motorcycles accelerating toward them from behind.
Aiming properly from a bouncing motorcycle was impossible.
Rock only hoped the barrage would force them to stop or scare them off the road.
The best outcome would be for them to crash on their own.
Their immediate counterattack showed him that he had underestimated them.
These drug dealers might not have survived a hundred battles, but they were veterans of years of street gunfights.
Each rider controlled the handlebars and throttle with one hand.
Without caring whether they could aim properly, they drew compact submachine guns with the other and opened fire.
Streams of muzzle flashes chased Camilla’s motorcycle, and bullets struck the road behind them, scattering sparks.
Partway through the chase, a police car approached from the opposite direction.
When the officers saw the gunfight ahead, the driver pressed harder on the accelerator and sped past Rock and Camilla.
Both officers were visibly ducking low inside the car.
They were clearly trying to avoid the shootout and keep themselves out of the crossfire.
Rock remembered what Camilla had told him.
In practice, the police focused on the wealthy districts, and ordinary people in the favelas could not count on them for help.
The police car continued into the distance without looking back, as though its occupants had seen nothing.
Rock had instinctively felt nervous when he first spotted it, but watching it drive away flipped a switch inside him.
These were not the police he was accustomed to.
The officers here had no intention of getting involved.
Rock abruptly tore away the cardboard covering the rifles and calmly loaded a fresh 75-round drum into the AKS-74U.
He also replaced the FN FAL’s nearly empty 50-round drum.
This kind of freedom was intoxicating.
Rock slung the reloaded AKS-74U across his back, then raised the FN FAL with both hands.
Known as the “right arm of the Free World,” the rifle remained steady as he fired controlled two-round bursts at the motorcycles closing in behind them.
The weapon in Rock’s hands was frighteningly stable.
His lower body moved with every rise and dip of the motorcycle, but his upper body kept the rifle perfectly aligned.
He focused entirely on the nearest motorcycle.
His fifth and sixth shots struck its fuel tank and ignited it.
The motorcycle exploded like a small bomb, and the blast hurled the other bike toward the roadside like a toy.
The American-style Jeep had already drawn close, but two shots from Rock blew out its tires.
The vehicle lost control and rolled across the side of the road.
“Woo-hoo!
Locke, dear, you’re amazing!”
Camilla saw the pursuers go down in her rearview mirror and cheered excitedly.
“Camilla, go back.”
Rock tapped her helmet.
“I am going back,” Camilla replied, confused.
“I mean back to where the shootout happened,” Rock shouted into her ear.
“Oh my God, Locke, dear.
You’re so manly.”
When Camilla realized he intended to return and finish off the gunmen in the Jeep and beside the wrecked motorcycles, her eyes immediately grew bright.
The foreign man she had found on the beach was an absolute treasure.
In chaotic Rio de Janeiro, he gave her an incredible sense of security.
He never backed down when trouble came.
He was a genuine tough guy, and she knew that better than anyone.
Without another word, she released the throttle, swung the motorcycle through a wide turn, then accelerated straight back toward the crash site.
She had no idea what Rock was really thinking.
But after growing up immersed in thousands of years of military history, Rock fully understood the value of the saying: when you have no guns or ammunition, take them from the enemy.
He had fired all 75 rounds from the AKS-74U while killing Ricardo.
Between covering their retreat and fighting off the pursuers, the FN FAL’s 50-round drum was nearly empty as well.
Rock had no intention of accepting such heavy losses.
The pursuers had likely been rendered incapable of fighting.
Looting the bodies was important.
He had to recover the ammunition he had spent.
With roughly two hundred meters left, Rock chambered a round and raised the AKS-74U.
At the slightest movement, he would unleash a torrent of bullets.
When they were fifty meters away, he tapped Camilla’s helmet and signaled her to stop.
Then he advanced slowly along the roadside with the AKS-74U at the ready.
The gunman whose fuel tank Rock had hit had been blasted somewhere out of sight.
The other rider had been thrown into the rocky slope beside the road by the shock wave.
His motorcycle lay on its side nearby, while his body was twisted into an impossible position.
There was no need to check closely.
He was dead.
Apparently, being thrown by the explosion and dying on impact did not count as Rock’s kill, because he had not heard that delightful ding.
Even so, Rock cautiously kept the rifle trained on the body and kicked it several times.
When he saw the man’s head hanging almost against his chest, he knew there was no chance he was still alive.
Rock looked toward the Jeep lying on its side.
Through the driver’s window, he could see three men slumped inside without moving.
Marks of different sizes covered their foreheads.
They appeared to have been knocked unconscious in the crash.
Rock would not gamble on all three remaining unconscious, but he could make sure they never woke up.
He fired three close-range shots.
“Bang!
Bang!
Bang!”
Each bullet passed through a gunman’s head, eliminating any remaining threat.
“Ding.”
After checking the area, Rock quickly moved in to search the bodies.
Guns, ammunition, cash, and gold jewelry.
He stripped away everything useful without wasting a single item.
Then he found a real prize in the Jeep’s trunk.
“Locke, oh, honey.
Are you planning to rob a bank?”
Holding a Glock, Camilla stared at the shoulder-fired rocket launcher in Rock’s hands.
Rock did not answer immediately.
He piled the guns and ammunition together, then stuffed the cash and gold into the backpack.
He quickly took inventory.
One MAC10 Ingram submachine gun, two 35-round magazines, and one 50-round magazine.
One FN FAL assault rifle equipped with a holographic sight and five 50-round drums.
One SIG SG551 short-barreled assault rifle equipped with a 4x scope and six 30-round translucent magazines.
Two Glock 17 pistols and two 33-round magazines.
One RPG.
It was a Brazilian-made ALAC rocket launcher, designed for single use and with an effective range of three hundred meters.
Rock also found a box containing two hundred rounds of 5.56 mm ammunition for the SIG SG551 in the Jeep’s trunk.
There should have been one more gun, but its owner had been blown somewhere out of sight, so Rock did not bother searching for it.
Looking at the ammunition scattered across the ground, Rock found himself facing a welcome problem.
There was plenty of equipment, but carrying it would be difficult because they only had one motorcycle.
Until they had a stable source of income, every bullet was precious.
They had to take all of it.
Rock turned toward the Jeep.
Its tire had blown out, and the vehicle was lying on its side, making it impossible to drive.
His gaze shifted to the motorcycle beside the road.
He lifted it upright and tried starting the engine.
Aside from one shattered rearview mirror, the motorcycle had suffered no significant damage.
“Haha, Camilla!
We have our own motorcycle now.”