Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

Snake King Can placed the suitcase on the coffee table, opened his briefcase, and took out the banknotes and heroin one by one, stacking them back into the suitcase.

The movements were swift and resolute, like someone laying the final layer of silk on their coffin.

After packing, I zipped up the suitcase and picked it up.

Snake King Can carried his suitcase to the door, stopped, and looked back at Ms. Jensen.

He seemed to want to say something, his lips moved, but he didn't say anything.

I pushed open the door and went out. The sound of my footsteps gradually faded away in the corridor, becoming lighter and lighter, until it disappeared completely.

Ah-Ji and Ah-Ya were still waiting in the corridor when they saw him come out and went to greet him.

Snake King Can ignored them, picked up his suitcase, and strode toward the elevator.

His leather shoes made no sound on the carpet, but his steps were hurried and heavy, as if they were treading on people's hearts.

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped inside, with Ah-Ji and Ah-Ya following behind.

The doors closed, and the elevator slowly descended. Snake King Can stared at the floor indicator lights, the red numbers jumping down one by one: 18, 17, 16... His eyes didn't blink, his pupils reflecting the flickering red light.

The elevator reached the first floor, the doors opened, and he stepped out. The lobby was empty; the young woman at the front desk was still dozing, her head bobbing up and down like a chicken pecking at rice. The crystal chandelier was still on, casting a cold white light that shone on the marble floor, making it reflective.

Snake King Can stepped out of the hotel. The night wind at dawn blew in, carrying the salty smell of the sea and the chill of early autumn, making him shiver.

He switched the suitcase to his other hand, tucked it under his arm, and took a deep breath.

The air was cool; inhaling it felt like swallowing a mouthful of ice water, causing his entire chest cavity to contract. He squinted.

Ah-Ji drove up in his car, a black Mercedes, its body gleaming dimly under the streetlights.

Snake King Can opened the car door and got in.

The car started and slowly drove away from the hotel.

Snake King Can leaned back in his seat, his suitcase resting on his knees, his hands on it, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

The light from the streetlights shone through the car window, casting alternating shadows on his face, like an old movie playing on a loop in a dark room.

Ah Ji glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Brother Can, where are we going?"

Snake King Can remained silent, staring at the road ahead for a long time. Then he spoke, his voice hoarse: "Back to Temple Street. To find someone."

North of Temple Street is the residence of Snake King Chan.

At three in the morning, the whole building was asleep, but the light in his room was still on.

The iron gate was closed, but a sliver of light shone through the crack.

The living room was filled with smoke. Several bottles of beer were on the coffee table; two were empty, and the third was open but untouched.

The ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts, some still smoking, and the air was thick with the pungent smell of cheap tobacco and alcohol, making one's throat feel tight.

The North Man killed fifteen of Tyrannosaurus Rex's men, ravaged Fat Po's territory, wiped out one hundred of Ruan Xiong's men, and killed twenty-one of Ruan Bao's men. One man, one rocket launcher.

He was a powerful figure in Hong Kong, and even Lui Lok had to give him some leeway.

What makes Snake King Can think he can fight against him?

He opened his eyes and looked at the black leather suitcase on the coffee table.

Hank gave it to me, two million.

Two million Hong Kong dollars is enough for him to hire the best hitman.

To the south there are Filipinos, to the north there are Taiwanese, to the east there are Japanese, to the west there are Vietnamese; the whole world is full of desperate criminals who will kill for money.

Princess Jin, third-floor office.

Night had fallen, and there were fewer neon lights outside the window than before; some were out, and the whole street was half dark.

The music downstairs stopped, and only the occasional sound of car engines and the faint calls of wild cats in heat could be heard in the distance.

Chen Feng was still sitting behind his desk, opening the system interface.

A translucent light screen floated in the darkness, with lines of text and numbers slowly emerging, emitting a faint glow.

Points – 3247.

I've accumulated quite a bit more over this period.

Killing Ruan Bao and his twenty-one companions earned him a substantial reward from the dock battle. He accumulated points for a while longer, and they kept rising, nearing four thousand.

His gaze slowly moved across the lists.

Light weapons: Type 54 pistol, 30 points; Type 56 submachine gun, 80 points; Browning pistol, 50 points; revolver, 40 points.

He doesn't need any of these. His personal space is filled with the weapons he got from the police station, enough for him to use for a while.

Throwing weapons: Delayed-time bombs, 100 points each; remote-controlled bombs, 150 points each; C4 explosives, 200 points per kilogram.

He also has these things; he got several kilograms from the police station's armory last time, and he hasn't used them all yet.

Tactical Equipment: Body armor, 120 points each; night vision goggles, 200 points each; tactical helmet, 80 points each; tactical gloves, 20 points each; first aid kit, 30 points each.

He also had these things; he redeemed them from the system, and they were much better than what he could buy on the market.

He continued scrolling down.

Advanced combat module, not yet unlocked. Requires 5,000 points and completion of specific tasks.

Chen Feng stared at the line of text for a while.

With 5,000 points, his current score is 3,247, and he is still 1,753 points short.

not enough.

He exited the advanced combat module and opened the marching backpack module.

The light screen shifted, and the virtual backpack interface appeared.

The compartment contained the items left over from the last exchange: the landmines were all used up, but the military binoculars, tactical flashlights, and camouflage nets were still there; a few first-aid syringes had been used, and two remained.

He clicked on the inconspicuous compartment in the corner—a special item that refreshes randomly, costing 100 points each time.

He nodded.

The light screen flickered, and the text within the grid changed. "Explosive drone, one."

Points required for redemption: 500 points. Capable of carrying 500 grams of explosives, remotely detonated, with a maximum range of 5 kilometers.

Chen Feng's eyes twitched slightly, just for a moment.

A drone can fly five kilometers, carry explosives, and be remotely detonated.

This is a good thing.

He clicked "redeem".

The light screen flashed again, and the drone appeared in the personal space.

He refreshed his inventory again—five tactical smoke grenades.

Points required for redemption: 150 points.

It is three times denser and lasts twice as long as a regular smoke bomb.

exchange.

Another update—armor-piercing rounds, one box, ten rounds.

Points required for exchange: 120 points. 7.62 mm caliber, capable of penetrating 10 mm steel plate.

exchange.

It refreshed again—a remote-controlled detonator, one.

Points required for redemption: 300 points.

It can be used to detonate time-delay bombs and C4 explosives.

Chen Feng clicked on the redemption button and refreshed the page again—ten first-aid syringes.

Points required for redemption: 200 points.

He refreshed the page several times, changing everything that appeared.

My points dropped from 3,247 to just over 2,000.

He exited the interface and opened his eyes.

It was almost dawn outside the window; the eastern sky was turning a pale white.

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the gray sky with no expression on his face.