After a day of running around, Zhang Jie was utterly exhausted. He had spent the entire day outside, buying equipment, picking out a car, and haggling with his Malay brothers... Heaven knows how mentally draining it was... He would rather have a real fight with real weapons.
Following Michael's advice, he also got himself a virtual number to prevent being tracked.
He wondered what that little slut Jing Ji was up to lately. Had she recovered from her injuries?
And Jin Kaide, that guy, surely he wouldn't be caught, would he?
It was hard enough to escape; going back now would be pointless.
Thinking of this, he remembered Mrs. Schneider's eldest granddaughter, Max, and second granddaughter, Simmons... One was a legal eagle on Wall Street and a top assassin for Ouroboros.
The other was a top assassin for the Brotherhood... And these two were twins... Who exactly was Mrs. Schneider?
Although she always provided lodging and refuge for down-on-their-luck assassins, her family was a bit outlandish, wasn't it?
Both granddaughters were assassins for top organizations, so what about the youngest granddaughter?
Was she really just an ordinary nurse?
And what about her children?
He had never heard her talk about them, and there was no information or photos of them in the house. It was very strange.
Moreover, he had never thought of leaving this place, even in the face of all sorts of bizarre fees.
He also wondered what John was doing lately; Hades was almost able to cook for himself.
Damn it!
Recalling what had happened in the past two months, it was truly... too cool!
A mix of danger and wealth, yet he always seemed to be stuck with the persona of a poor guy... Just thinking about it made him tired.
He reviewed his training results from this period, and there was no improvement!
He had even lost quite a few points!
Zhang Jie was completely exhausted. This proficiency panel really didn't give any hints, nothing at all; he had to figure everything out himself.
Moreover, after level 2, proficiency training couldn't increase at all; sometimes it would even drop points, which was really frustrating.
"Actual combat... Haha, improving and evolving in actual combat! Am I crazy? Perhaps I should learn some other skill?"
And so, Zhang Jie, lost in thought, lay on his bed and fell into a deep sleep.
12:59 AM.
The screen of his phone on the bedside table lit up.
A message quietly appeared on the screen; the sender was JW, and the content was: "Beware of the Malay."
On the other side, after sending the text message, John turned off his phone.
He glanced at the assassin still struggling to reach the Pistol just ten centimeters away from him, then raised his hand and fired a shot.
Bang!
The gruesome red and white scene was still bloody, the dead man's eyes still staring at the Pistol within reach.
He was currently in Belgium. He already knew what Zhang Jie had been doing lately and couldn't help but feel a little emotional; his growth rate was indeed very fast, becoming more and more like that guy.
Equally intelligent, equally fast in progress.
Oh, it seemed there was still a slight difference; Zhang Jie took six months, while he only took three months.
Even their temperaments were very similar, but unfortunately, they weren't the same person.
That little guy wouldn't be coming back either.
He had been investigating the KH Alliance recently and had found some clues.
Previously, he was injured near the Continental Hotel, attacked by six Malays, and the KH Alliance was behind it.
However, due to the tight information blockade, he couldn't get much information, so he could only continue to investigate.
Logically, he had been retired for over four years, almost five years; no one should be coming for him.
But the world of assassins was just that cruel; you never knew if your retirement meant embracing an alternative retirement life.
However, since a peaceful life could no longer continue, it was better to make a comeback, but this time it was just for himself.
Looking around, there were at least a dozen bodies on this floor.
Although he had gathered some information, it wasn't much. John left, leaving behind a mess.
Meanwhile, in a certain safe house, an old man in a black suit once again opened his laptop. After some operations, the screen lit up, showing a nine-grid display, with a figure in each frame.
Mountbatten's face appeared first.
He was wiping fresh blood from his knuckles with a blood-stained silk scarf, and the wooden blinds behind him cut the moonlight into fragments, like blades hanging overhead.
His breathing was heavy, as if he had just been in a fight. In fact, he had just vented, and he had to admit that the body was indeed very tempting.
Every cut made him tremble and feel an indescribable pleasure.
"John, that old dog, is crazy!" He watched the screen, his voice squeezed through his teeth. "Three days, two strongholds, 37 people, it's a massacre!"
In the bottom right corner of the screen, Viktor's figure slowly emerged.
He sat in an antique high-backed chair, an unlit cigar between his fingers, and his other hand slowly twirling a gold coin.
The gold coin flipped between his fingers, occasionally reflecting a cold light that illuminated his enigmatic eyes.
"I remember," his voice was low and elegant, "last time you said a retired dog wasn't even fit to be a doorman."
The third screen flickered, and a woman's face appeared in the frame.
Her image was clearer than the others, as if she wasn't in a safe house but a hotel room.
"Your mistake wasn't provoking him," her voice was clear, yet with a strange intonation, "but killing someone you shouldn't have, and using those incompetent Malay idiots."
Mars was the last to connect.
His image was somewhat blurry, only vaguely showing him wearing clothes. So he sat in a windowless room, playing with a butterfly knife.
The blade flipped between his fingers, occasionally flashing a cold light.
He didn't speak, just gently tapped the lens with the tip of the knife, making a crisp "ding" sound.
Everyone knew what that meant; Mars only spoke when it was time to kill.
Mountbatten's fist slammed on the table, making the camera shake. "It was a collective decision back then!"
He roared, "Now that there's a problem, you want me to take the blame alone?"
Viktor finally lit his cigar, and smoke swirled in front of the screen.
"The resolution was 'observe'," he slowly exhaled a smoke ring, "and you directly sent people to kill him. Did you really think he was too old to move?"
The woman simply took out a voice recorder, pressed it lightly, and Mountbatten's voice clearly came through: "If he dares to come, I'll personally wring his neck!"
The room fell into a brief silence.
Mars's knife stopped.
"I have a suggestion," the woman suddenly said, her eyes meeting the camera for the first time, "John's new guy."
That name made everyone look up.
She pulled up a photo of Zhang Jie standing on a New York street, carrying a supermarket shopping bag, looking nothing like an assassin.
Mars finally spoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper rubbing: "How do we do it?"
The woman smiled: "Whatever he cares about most, we take away."
The old man, who had been silent, laughed: "I think you might have made a mistake. This new guy fought his way out of Blackthorn Castle!"
"He only managed to fight his way out by relying on James and that White Rose. He's just a lucky kid, what real strength does he have?" The woman scoffed, "If it weren't for John, he'd be an unknown nobody."
"Then you all try it."
The screens went dark one by one, until only Mountbatten's face remained. He stared at the pitch-black screen and suddenly laughed.
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