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

Chapter 197 Pressing Closer

"This place looks like some kind of abandoned site, but why are there still people guarding it?" Hans leaned against the car window, his eyes fixed on the warehouse door. He had already counted four guards, all dressed casually, yet exuding a dangerous aura, especially the bulges at their waists, which clearly concealed weapons.

"Nobody's going to guard a pile of scrap metal," Lynn replied, his voice low. He carefully observed the guards' movements through his binoculars, noticing that they didn't seem to have a fixed patrol pattern, but rather appeared somewhat lax. This laxity wasn't due to laziness, but rather more like absolute confidence in their surroundings.

"Do you think the Holy Blood Alliance would hide their 'holy relics' in a place like this?" Hans chewed his gum, his tone somewhat skeptical. "To be honest, I think it's more like a drug trafficking site."

"Maybe, maybe not." Lynn put down his binoculars, reached for the pistol beside him, and expertly checked the magazine. "But either way, we have to go in and take a look."

"You mean 'us'?" Hans raised an eyebrow. "Please, Lynn, you know what I mean—I'm not against running errands, but I don't want to get shot in this godforsaken place."

Lynn glanced at him sideways, her eyes as cold as ice. "Stop talking nonsense. Take action."

Hans muttered a few words, then grabbed his weapon from his seat and followed Lynn out of the car. The two moved cautiously along a narrow path outside the warehouse, trying to drown out the sound of their footsteps with the wind and distant industrial noise. They circled around to the side of the warehouse...

There was a window slightly ajar, through which one could vaguely see the lights flickering inside.

Lynn took out a slim camera and peered it through the window. The screen immediately displayed the interior of the warehouse. In the footage, several men were gathered around a dilapidated table, discussing something. On the table were several crates filled with goods. However, from the camera's angle, the contents of the crates were not clearly visible.

"They don't look like members of the Holy Blood Clan," Hans said softly, staring at the men on the screen. "They're dressed too casually."

There was none of the sense of ritual that the Holy Blood Alliance had.

"It certainly doesn't look like it," Lynn said cautiously, "but these goods might be our breakthrough point."

Just as he was about to observe further, he suddenly heard the sound of a car engine in the distance. Both men held their breath and quietly turned their heads. A few seconds later, a black SUV drove into the warehouse, and several people quickly got out.

Lynn's eyes sharpened instantly. This new group was completely different from the ones in the warehouse. They were dressed in matching black tactical uniforms, carrying rifles, and moving swiftly and alertly. These weren't ordinary thugs; they were trained professional assassins.

"This is interesting," Hans said softly, his eyes fixed on the newcomers.

The newcomers went straight into the warehouse, and moments later, Lynn saw through the security camera that the two sides were locked in a standoff. The people inside the warehouse were clearly very wary of these strangers who had suddenly barged in, but they didn't open fire immediately, instead trying to negotiate. However, the newcomers in black didn't waste any words; they immediately drew their weapons and pointed them directly at the other side.

"This doesn't look like a transaction," Hans said in a low voice. "They're here to steal."

"Shut up," Lynn hissed, his attention completely focused on the screen.

Just as Lynn was carefully observing, the atmosphere inside the warehouse suddenly became tense—a gunshot shattered the silence of the night! The man in black fired first, the bullet piercing the air and hitting the person next to the table, blood gushing out and instantly staining the ground red.

"Damn it!" Hans cursed. "They've started fighting!"

Lynn didn't answer. He quickly put away the camera and gestured for Hans to follow. Taking advantage of the chaotic gunfire and screams inside the warehouse, the two quickly approached a side door, hugging the wall. Lynn pulled out a universal lock pick from his waist and opened the lock in less than ten seconds.

The moment the door was pushed open, the gunshots became clearer, the clatter of spent shell casings hitting the ground mingling with shouts. Lynn and Hans quietly entered the warehouse, hiding behind a pile of junk, observing the situation inside.

The warehouse was a scene of utter chaos. Most of the men who had been guarding the goods were dead, with only two or three remaining, hiding behind cover and fighting back. The men in black, however, had come prepared, meticulously clearing every corner and closing in relentlessly.

"Who are these people? They don't look like the Holy Blood Alliance," Hans said softly, gently pushing aside a wooden plank blocking his view with his fingers.

"They might be competitors," Lynn replied coldly, but his attention was not on the men in black, but on the goods on the table.

The crates were overturned during the gunfight, spilling out several items—a few gleaming metal objects and several oddly shaped stones engraved with ancient symbols. This was no ordinary smuggled goods; it was something far more significant.

"We have to get those things," Lynn commanded in a low voice, his gaze sharp and cold.

"Are you crazy?" Hans's voice was hushed, but filled with disbelief. "Didn't you see what they're holding? Those aren't toys!"

"You can stay here." Lynn didn't argue with him further, simply drew his pistol, and began to move silently.

"Damn it, I hate your stubbornness!" Hans cursed under his breath, but still followed. He knew that if Lynn was left to take the risk alone, he would definitely do something even more outrageous.

Lynn moved swiftly and precisely, choosing a concealed route to avoid the center of the gunfight. His target was clear: the boxes. Although he didn't know what they were, his intuition told him they were inextricably linked to the Holy Blood Alliance's plans.

As they approached their target, Lynn suddenly heard hurried footsteps behind him. He immediately took cover, and Hans quickly moved close to the wall as well. A few seconds later, a man in black approached, his steps steady, his rifle scanning the surroundings warily.

Lynn reacted swiftly, waiting for the man to approach before striking him with a precise chop to the throat. He then dragged the man behind cover. The man in black struggled a few times before collapsing, and Lynn deftly drew his rifle.

"Truly the art of violence," Hans muttered sarcastically, but his eyes were full of admiration.

"Shut up, don't waste time," Lynn warned him, then continued moving forward.

At this point, the gunfire gradually subsided, and the situation inside the warehouse began to become clear—the men in black clearly had the upper hand. After the last original guard of the warehouse was killed, the men in black began to clear the battlefield and repack the goods back into boxes.

Lynn knew his time was running out. Just as the man in black approached the cargo, he decisively leaped out from behind cover, his rifle precisely aimed at the nearest enemy, and pulled the trigger.

Gunfire erupted again! Lynn killed the man in black closest to the cargo with a single shot, then rolled to another cover, avoiding the counter-fire from the others. Hans also opened fire at that moment; although his accuracy wasn't as good as Lynn's, his bullets successfully suppressed the enemy's movements.

"Quick, go get the goods!" Lynn shouted.

"You're sending me to my death!" Hans complained as he rushed forward, his movements far faster than his words suggested. He lunged at the crates, lifted one filled with stones with all his might, and then quickly retreated to cover.

"Go!" Lynn fired cover fire as he moved toward the warehouse exit.

The men in black were clearly thrown off balance by their surprise attack, but they quickly regrouped, and bullets rained down on the two men. Lynn and Hans rushed out of the warehouse at an astonishing speed, jumped back into their car, started the engine, and drove away from the scene.

"What the hell did we steal?" Hans gasped for breath in the car, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.

Lynn opened a corner of the box and looked at the stones that emitted a strange light and the metal objects engraved with symbols. His gaze became even more solemn.

"I don't know," he said slowly, "but they are important enough that people would kill to steal them."

And just then...

A young man suddenly ran past them, and the familiar tattoos on his body caught their attention!

The bar's neon lights stung the eyes in the night, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of alcohol and tobacco. The young man following closely behind Lynn and Hans hurried along, his shadow appearing and disappearing in the dim alley.

"Don't let him get away!" Hans whispered breathlessly, gun in hand, as he chased after Lynn. He could have complained, but this time, he knew time was too precious to waste.

The young man clearly knew the area well; he moved like a nimble mouse, weaving through the narrow alleyways, occasionally knocking over trash cans in an attempt to create chaos and slow down his pursuers. But Lynn was clearly not someone to be easily shaken off; his steps were swift, his breathing even, like a predator intently watching its prey. The alley lights flickered, and he could even hear the young man's frantic panting.

"Turn the corner! Don't let him into the alley!" Lynn shouted, his voice deep and powerful.

Hans immediately understood Lynn's meaning. He circled around and quickly rushed out from another side road, blocking the young man's escape route. The young man braked sharply, almost hitting Hans, and then turned around abruptly to run back to Lynn's direction. However, just as he turned around, a hand like an iron clamp accurately grabbed the back of his collar and forcefully pulled him back.

"Alright, have you run enough?" Lynn forcefully slammed the young man against a stained wall, his tone as cold as a knife. The young man struggled, but clearly, he was exhausted and unable to break free from Lynn's control.

"Let me go! I don't know what you're talking about!" The young man's voice was filled with fear, but also with a hint of stubbornness.

Hans leaned closer, panting and wiping the sweat from his brow. "Oh, this is quite a sports meet. Kid, you're pretty fast, but you still have to tell us—what's with that Holy Blood Alliance tattoo on you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" The young man continued to struggle, but to no avail, as Lynn pressed his back firmly.

"Don't waste time." Lynn pulled open the young man's jacket and tore open the tattered T-shirt on his shoulder. A striking red pattern came into view—it was the symbol of the Holy Blood Alliance, an exquisite dagger pattern surrounded by dripping blood wings.

"Still saying you don't know?" Hans reached out and poked the tattoo, deliberately pressing hard. "This isn't something you can just get done at any tattoo shop."

"Listen! Listen!" The young man's voice trembled, clearly terrified. "This tattoo is fake! I'm not a member of the Holy Blood Alliance! I really am not!"

"Fake?" Lynn frowned, but his hand didn't loosen. "Who would get a Holy Bloodline tattoo for fun? This isn't some motorcycle gang trick, kid."

"I'm just a deliveryman! I have no idea what the Holy Blood Alliance is!" The young man was almost in tears. "Someone gave me some money to get this tattoo, saying it was to scare the street thugs and make them think I have powerful connections. I really don't know what these tattoos mean! I'm just a deliveryman!"

Hans chuckled, tilting his head to look at the young man. "Oh, what a great story. The question is, why should we believe you?"

"You can check my records!" the young man stammered, flustered. "I have no criminal record, I'm just an ordinary person! I've never even touched a gun! I don't know why you're targeting me—but I really have nothing to do with those lunatics!"

Lynn remained silent for a few seconds, staring at the tattoo, his eyes as deep as an ancient well. His intuition told him that this young man was indeed not a member of the Holy Blood Alliance. His grip loosened slightly, but his tone remained cold and hard: "Who gave you permission to get this tattoo?"

"I don't know his name!" the young man shook his head frantically. "He was a guy wearing a hat. He paid me a few hundred dollars to go to an underground tattoo parlor. He said that as long as I showed my tattoos, no one would dare mess with me."

"An underground tattoo parlor?" Hans frowned. "Address?"

"In an old warehouse on Ninth Avenue, with a red light hanging on the door," the young man answered quickly. "But I swear, I've only seen him a few times, and I don't even know his name!"

Lynn and Hans exchanged a glance. Lynn released the young man and pushed him aside, but his gaze remained sharp. "Listen,"

If you lied, we'll find you soon, and then it won't be so easy for you.

The young man nodded repeatedly, raising his hands to indicate that he wouldn't do anything reckless. "I'm really not lying to you, God is my witness! I'm just an ordinary person, please, don't get me involved in this kind of thing!"

Lynn didn't say anything more, tugged at his coat, and turned to walk towards the alley's exit. Hans looked at the young man, shrugged, and then quickly followed.

The two returned to the car. Lynn sat in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel, lost in thought for a moment. Hans, in the passenger seat, whistled softly. "So, you think that kid was telling the truth?"

"He doesn't seem to be lying," Lynn said coldly. "He doesn't even know who we are, let alone the Holy Blood Alliance. It's unlikely he could pretend so convincingly."

"So what do we do?" Hans asked, popping a piece of gum into his mouth and leaning back lazily in his chair. "Should we just go to that tattoo parlor? I bet they're hiding some dirty little secrets."

Lynn nodded, but his eyes remained alert. He started the car, the headlights tearing a slit in the shadows at the end of the alley. "If that place really is connected to the Holy Blood Alliance, we might be able to find some clues."

Hans raised an eyebrow, reached into the glove compartment of the car, and pulled out a spare pistol. "Hopefully, this won't be another gunfight. I don't want another bullet whizzing past my ear."

Lynn ignored his complaints and the car quickly merged into the Manhattan night traffic.

Less than twenty minutes later, they arrived at the address the young man had given them. It was a dilapidated industrial area on Ninth Avenue, where a row of low warehouses looked particularly desolate in the darkness. The only source of light was a rickety red lamp hanging at the entrance of one of the warehouses, casting a dim glow.

"Looks like the right place," Hans said in a low voice, gripping his gun and scanning his surroundings warily.

Lynn got out of the car and walked briskly towards the warehouse. He stopped at the door and knocked briefly and firmly.

A few seconds later, a middle-aged man who looked like a tattoo artist peeked out from under the door, a hint of impatience on his face. "It's closing time."

No appointment —

Lynn raised his hand, flashed his badge, and said coldly, "FBI, open the door."

The man's expression immediately changed. He quickly opened the door, but stood in the doorway to try and appear calm. "What's the problem?"

"Detective?"

Lynn pushed him aside and went inside with Hans. It was a dimly lit room with tattoo designs hanging on the walls, various tattoo tools on the table, and several bottles of ink that didn't look very clean.

"You tattooed the Holy Blood Clan name on a young man," Lynn said, getting straight to the point, his tone icy. "Who gave you the order to do it?"

Cold sweat immediately broke out on the man's face, and his gaze began to dart around the room. "I don't know what you're talking about."

This place gets so many guests every day, I can't remember them all.

"Stop talking nonsense." Hans pointed to his chest. "Lying will only make us more ruthless."

The man's expression shifted several times, finally settling into a sigh. "Okay—someone paid me to do this. He didn't tell me his name."

He just said he wanted to scare people. It's just a business deal; I don't know the details!

"What does that person look like?" Lynn pressed closer.

"Wearing a black hat and a black coat, he was quite tall—"—"- He was very cautious and wouldn't let me look at him for long."

Lynn's gaze remained fixed on the man. "What else did he say?"

"He said—"—he said this was just a warning, the real big thing was yet to come. He also told me to shut up, or else—" The man didn't finish his sentence, but his eyes betrayed him.

"He's a member of the Holy Blood Alliance, isn't he?" Lynn asked in a low voice, a hint of danger in his tone.