American comic book: I, with my abundant martial virtue, love to do good to others.

Chapter 196 This place is definitely not simple

The old man's hands trembled, his eyes filled with fear and unease: "Last night—last night was terrible. Those people suddenly rushed out..."

They started attacking people with knives. They were shouting something I couldn't understand, something like—? It sounded like Spanish.

Lynn frowned, keenly catching the key information in the old man's words: "Spanish? Are you sure?"

The old man nodded: "Yes, I'm sure. Although I don't understand Spanish, I can recognize the accent as Spanish."

Lynn's heart sank; he realized this incident might indeed be related to the Mexicans. But he still refused to believe that Mexicans would commit violence in Manhattan without reason. He had to find more evidence to uncover the truth behind this incident.

Lynn and Hans's car slowly came to a stop on Seventh Avenue in Manhattan. Police tape had been put up around the street, and red and blue police lights illuminated the tense atmosphere. A thick sense of tension hung in the air, making even the winter wind feel particularly biting. When Lynn got out of the car, he had already pulled his trench coat collar tight, his dark brown eyes scanning the surroundings with a cold expression.

"Where's the suspect?" Lynn asked a young detective standing by the police line as soon as he arrived at the scene. The man was wearing an ill-fitting police jacket, and the sweat on his face hadn't yet dried in the wind.

"We haven't caught him yet, Agent Lynn. He got away too quickly." The young agent looked guilty, his voice trembling slightly from the cold and tension. "However, we're sealing off the nearby streets; he shouldn't have gone too far."

"Should?" Lynn repeated the word with an unfriendly tone, he never had patience for such ambiguous attitudes. "Has the suspect's description been transmitted to command center?"

"Yes. He was a Mexican-American male, around thirty years old, six feet tall, wearing a black jacket and jeans—"

"That description could apply to fifty people on the street," Hans remarked, standing to the side with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

A hint of disdain crossed his face. "I bet there are at least three people in the bar next door right now who are describing things exactly like this."

"That's enough, Hans." Lynn turned and glared at him, then nodded to the young agent. "You continue with your work; we'll take over."

The detective nodded and ran off quickly, as if granted a pardon. Lynn looked around; the scene was heavily cordoned off, but a crowd of onlookers and reporters had still gathered outside, their flashes occasionally stinging his eyes. He rubbed his temples and turned his gaze to the crime scene not far away. It was the entrance to a small supermarket; the glass door was shattered, shards scattered everywhere, and bloodstains spread from the entrance onto the sidewalk.

"Honestly, I still don't understand." Hans finally took the cigarette out of his mouth. "A Mexican guy, suddenly showing up in Manhattan, killing a few people on a whim? It sounds like a random crime, but it's too chaotic. Drug dealers usually don't do this kind of thing."

"Don't jump to conclusions." Lynn strode towards the scene, his leather boots making a crisp sound on the wet, cold ground. He walked into the damaged supermarket entrance, his gaze lingering on the deep red bloodstains.

"Have the victim's identity been confirmed?" Lin Enchong asked a detective who was investigating the scene. The man was in his fifties, wearing glasses, and his face was etched with fatigue.

"Yes, there are two dead and one seriously injured. One of the dead was a 23-year-old Mexican-American woman who worked at the supermarket;

The other was a customer, a white male around fifty years old. The seriously injured person is the supermarket owner, who has been taken to the hospital. The detective answered while flipping through his notes.

Lynn frowned. "Why did he do it? Was there any CCTV footage?"

"The surveillance cameras were destroyed, but we found the fragments, and technicians are trying to restore them. As for the motive, we have no clue yet." The detective's tone was somewhat helpless. "However, the attack happened too suddenly, there were few witnesses, and everyone's descriptions are vague."

"What did the witnesses say?" Hans interjected, his tone still tinged with dismissive mockery. "Let me guess, it was a 'tall, strong man,' and they didn't see anything, right?"

The detective adjusted his glasses and coughed somewhat awkwardly. "That's basically it."

"Damn it," Lynn muttered under his breath. He stood up and looked around at the mess in the supermarket. Shelves were overturned, goods were scattered all over the floor, and shards of glass reflected the glaring light. In the center of the bloodstains on the floor, he noticed something strange.

It was a patterned scrap of fabric, mixed in with bloodstains, seemingly torn from some kind of uniform or clothing. Lynn crouched down, picked up the fabric with tweezers, and examined it closely for a while. The pattern was peculiar, like some kind of totem—not an ordinary factory product.

"What's this?" Hans leaned closer, his hands in his pockets, and looked over.

"It looks like some kind of gang symbol," Lynn said softly, then stood up and carefully placed the fabric into the evidence bag. "Perhaps..."

This case is far more complex than it appears.

"You think it was a gang attack?" Hans raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. "But Mexican gangs rarely fight in public, especially in New York. This isn't their territory."

"I don't know, but the pattern of this fabric reminds me of some rumors." Lynn handed the evidence bag to the detective beside him. "Send it to the technical department immediately and find out its origin."

"Yes." The detective quickly took the bag and left the scene.

"Rumors?" Hans tilted his head, his face full of questions. "What rumors?"

"Have you heard of the 'Holy Blood Alliance'?" Lynn asked in a voice only the two of them could hear.

Hans paused for a moment. "That legendary underground organization? You must be joking. They're not some ordinary gang. They're the kind of thing that only exists in rumors. Nobody has ever seen them, nobody knows if they're real or not."

"But their logo is very similar to the pattern on this fabric." Lynn's gaze remained fixed on the supermarket entrance, a thoughtful yet subtly wary look in his eyes. "If it really is them, we're in big trouble."

"Damn it," Hans muttered under his breath, then pulled a piece of gum from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. "So what should we do? Keep chasing this assassin, or just call headquarters and have them send more people?"

"Let's find out the whole story first," Lynn said decisively. "Support from headquarters isn't easy to get, especially when it involves underground organizations. We need more evidence."

"Okay, you're the boss, you call the shots." Hans shrugged, then followed Lynn out of the supermarket. Although he still wore a nonchalant expression, a hint of seriousness flickered in his eyes.

Just as the two reached the edge of the cordon, a police officer rushed over, pale-faced and breathing rapidly.

"Agent Lynn, we found a body in a nearby alley!" the officer said, panting.

"What?" Lynn turned his head sharply, his eyes as sharp as knives.

"Take us there!"

2

They quickly made their way through the crowd to a narrow alley a few blocks away. The alley was dark and damp, and the garbage cans emitted a pungent odor. At the end of the alley lay a blood-covered corpse.

The corpse was a man, about forty years old, dressed in ordinary street clothes, but a strange symbol was carved on his chest—a winged dagger surrounded by blood droplet-shaped engravings.

"Damn it, what the hell is this?" Hans frowned and covered his nose with his hand.

Lynn's face was terribly grim. He crouched down and carefully examined the markings on the corpse. The lines of the symbols were extremely precise, as if they had been hand-carved by a specially trained person, which further confirmed his previous suspicions.

"This is a warning," he said in a low voice.

"A warning?" Hans stared wide-eyed in disbelief. "Who is this directed at?"

"They're coming for us." Lynn stood up, his eyes sharp as an eagle's. "The Holy Blood Alliance is telling us that they already know we're investigating."

Hans opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he only sighed, "This is getting more and more interesting."

"Interesting?" Lynn gave him a cold, wary look. "You're only going to find things getting worse."

Lynn's voice cut through the air like a cold, sharp blade, and Hans involuntarily shrank back upon hearing it. He knew that Lynn rarely spoke in such a tone—meaning that things were more complicated than they had imagined.

"Check the surrounding environment to see if there are any surveillance cameras or any traces left behind," Lynn instructed the officers beside him, while putting on gloves and crouching down to examine the body more closely.

The corpse had a gruesome wound on its chest, but strangely, it wasn't an ordinary knife wound. The edges were clean, yet there was an eerie irregularity to it, as if it had been caused by some specially designed weapon. Lynn stared down at the "winged dagger" insignia, fragments of memories surfacing in his mind.

"This symbol looks so familiar..." he muttered to himself.

Hans stood behind him, glancing up at both sides of the alley. It was dark and narrow, so secluded it was unsettling; even the sound of the wind seemed blocked out. He sighed, chewing gum, and kicked an overturned trash can beside him, trying to hide his unease.

"Lynn, do you really think this was done by the Holy Blood Alliance? I still think it's a bit too much." He said, looking down at the corpse, his tone more doubtful.

"These symbols aren't something ordinary people could make. The Holy Blood Alliance's emblem has always been their operational symbol, and their way of declaring war." Lynn stood up, removed his gloves, and scanned the entire alley with his gaze. "Although information about this organization is scarce, every appearance is accompanied by high-profile killings. And—"

-

He paused, then looked up at Hans. "There's definitely a bigger story behind this case."

"Okay, let's assume you're telling the truth. Then the question is—why did they kill this person? Who was he?" Hans gestured with his chin towards the corpse on the ground, his tone tinged with anxiety.

"We don't know yet, but we'll find out soon," Lynn said coldly, then turned to the officer beside him and said, "Send the body to the forensic department immediately, focusing on the markings on the chest, see if you can find anything unusual."

The officer nodded and quickly arranged for people to handle the body. Lynn turned around and patted Hans on the shoulder.

"Let's go, we have other things to do."

"Where are we going?" Hans followed him somewhat reluctantly. "Aren't we waiting for the forensic report?"

"Waiting for the report is the stupidest option," Lynn said without turning his head. "We have to take the initiative."

His steps were quick and firm, forcing Hans to hurry to keep up. He stared blankly at Lynn's retreating figure, muttering to himself,

Lynn seemed more nervous than usual. The name Holy Blood Alliance clearly stirred some memories within him, but he dared not ask—at least not now.

The two got back into the car, and Lynn silently started the engine. Hans couldn't help but break the silence.

"So, where are we going now? Do you have the Holy Blood Alliance's 'contact information'?"

Lynn gave him a wary look, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "I don't need their contact information, but I know someone who might have the answer."

"Who?"

"Carlos Alvarez".

Hans paused for a moment upon hearing this. "That information broker hiding in Brooklyn? Are you sure he'll help us?"

"He won't help us, but he'll ask for money," Lynn said calmly, a hint of hidden determination in his eyes. "Besides, he has a history with the Holy Blood Alliance. If the Holy Blood Alliance really got involved in this case, he must know something."

Hans shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Hopefully he won't pull any tricks, otherwise you know how difficult these guys are to deal with."

Lynn didn't answer, but focused intently on driving. Night gradually fell, and the streets of Manhattan were adorned with lights that made them look like a dream, but in the shadows of this city, there were always some unknown dangers lurking in the dark.

They drove to a run-down neighborhood in Brooklyn, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, the air thick with the smells of musty and tobacco. Lynn parked the car in front of a dilapidated apartment building, and before grasping the doorknob, he turned to look at Hans.

"Stay close to me and don't say anything out of line."

"When did I say anything out of line?" Hans shrugged, looking innocent.

"Every single time," Lynn replied coldly, then got out of the car.

The two walked through the dimly lit corridor and arrived at a dilapidated door on the third floor. Lynn knocked on the door decisively, three times without any hesitation.

There was a few seconds of silence behind the door, then a voice with a thick Mexican accent came from behind the door, "Who is it?"

"Carlos, it's me, Lynn." His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.

There was silence again behind the door for a moment, then the sound of chains being unlocked. The door was pulled open, and a short, thin man peeked out.

He looked to be in his forties, with a wrinkled face and a wary, cunning look in his eyes.

"Agent Lynn, I never expected you to come looking for me." Carlos gave a meaningful smile, but his hand did not leave the door.

"I have a question to ask." Lynn pushed the door open and entered without waiting for him to move aside.

Carlos was clearly taken aback by his directness. He swayed slightly but didn't stop him. Instead, he smiled and said, "Looks like you're still the same as always, straightforward and blunt."

Lynn ignored his teasing and cut straight to the point: "The Holy Blood Alliance has recently appeared in Manhattan, do you know anything about that?"

Carlos's smile vanished instantly, his face turning grim. "The Holy Blood Alliance? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb, Carlos." Lynn took a step forward, his gaze piercing Carlos's heart like a sharp blade. "You have a grudge against them, everyone in New York knows that. They committed crimes in Manhattan, and if you don't want to get into any more trouble, tell me everything you know."

Carlos stared at Lynn, his eyes filled with hesitation and struggle. He finally sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Alright, I have heard some things, but after I tell you, you have to promise me I won't be coming after them."

"Speak," Lynn commanded coldly.

Carlos lowered his voice, "The Holy Blood Alliance has indeed been active recently; they're recruiting, and their target is—"

A very special shipment. I heard it's hidden in a secret location in Manhattan.

"What goods?" Lynn's brows furrowed even deeper.

"I don't know exactly what it is, but I've heard it's some kind of 'holy relic.' They believe it's a vital part of their organization's heritage and must be reclaimed." Carlos glanced at Lynn and added, "You'd better be careful. The Holy Blood Alliance members are incredibly ruthless, especially their leader—that guy called 'Blood Eagle.'"

"Blood Eagle?" Lynn repeated the name in a low voice.

"Yes, he's a ruthless character, a killer who doesn't blink an eye. If you run into him—" Carlos paused, his expression complex, "it's best to avoid a direct confrontation."

Lynn was silent for a few seconds, then turned and walked towards the door. "Thank you for the information, Carlos. I hope you won't say these things to anyone else."

"Of course, I want to live a few more years." Carlos chuckled dryly and watched the two leave.

Hans followed Lynn down the stairs and couldn't help but say, "Blood Eagle? Sounds like a madman."

"A madman is the most dangerous enemy," Lynn said coldly. "And his target is likely related to our case."

"So what do we do next?"

"We need to find that shipment." Lynn stopped, his eyes deep. "We've been dragged into this game."

As night fell, the city was shrouded in dim light, and a cold wind carried a damp, musty smell. Lynn and Hans's car sat quietly in the shadows outside the warehouse. The warehouse itself was dilapidated, with crumbling bricks on the walls and rusty iron doors, exuding a sense of desolation from years of neglect. But this was only the surface; Lynn's sixth sense told him that this place was definitely not simple.