An American knife seller? No, please acknowledge me as your godfather.

The lounge is located on the second floor of the Rusty Anchor Bar.

Just as Will Cross and others were trapped in the abandoned warehouse by the SPD (Seattle Police Department) like turtles in a jar.

Mark, who had just received a call for help from Lenny, was now alone in the lounge.

The moment Mark hung up the phone, all color drained from his face, and large beads of cold sweat streamed down his forehead.

He was panting heavily, his eyes filled with barely suppressed horror.

But deep within this shock, an overwhelming sense of relief at surviving a catastrophe surged forth uncontrollably.

"Thank God... thank goodness I didn't go with the boss!"

Mark wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his trembling hand, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

But no matter how scared he was, he couldn't ignore the life or death of his boss, otherwise he wouldn't survive the reckoning later.

Taking a few deep breaths to suppress his fear, Mark deftly stuffed several spare magazines into his back pocket.

He then grabbed the Glock pistol from the table, cocked it with a click, and made as if to get up from the sofa and leave.

However, before he could fully stand up straight...

"Thump... thud."

At that moment, Mark suddenly noticed a very faint strange noise coming from the hallway outside the door.

The sound was like a heavy object falling to the ground, or a brief but violent collision of limbs.

However, because the voice was deliberately kept very low and ended too quickly, it was difficult to distinguish.

"Who's outside? Jack? Or Tommy?"

Mark tentatively called out twice towards the tightly closed solid wood door.

There was a deathly silence outside the corridor; no one responded.

Instantly, Mark felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

An extremely dangerous feeling instantly spread throughout my body like an electric current.

The fine hairs on his neck and back stood up inch by inch.

His intuition told him something was very wrong! Something must have happened to the henchman outside the door!

With this in mind, Mark did not hesitate at all. He immediately crouched down and slowly walked to the door like a wary old wolf.

He pressed his back firmly against the wall, carefully bringing his ear close to the door panel, his expression extremely tense.

Throughout his years in the underworld, living a life of constant danger, he relied on this beast-like instinct to escape countless deadly perils.

He firmly believed that he would be able to turn danger into safety this time as well!

"breathe……"

Mark tried his best to control his breathing, attempting to keep it steady and silent.

His hands hung naturally at his sides, gripping the Glock pistol tightly.

All the muscles in his body were taut like a fully drawn bowstring, ready to fire and retaliate immediately in any emergency.

Tick!Tick!

The second hand of the wall clock ticked away, but there was still no sound coming from outside the door.

As time went on, Mark's forehead was once again covered in fine beads of sweat, which even trickled down his brow bone and into his eyes, causing a stinging sensation.

The palms of his hands, gripping the gun, were damp with cold sweat and felt sticky.

"Gulp!"

Mark swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.

In this deathly silent space, he could even clearly hear the sound of his own heart beating.

Just as he frowned slightly, wondering if he was hallucinating from excessive tension,

"Tap...tap...tap..."

A series of extremely light yet unusually steady footsteps suddenly came from the end of the corridor, approaching from afar.

The footsteps were very rhythmic, without the slightest sign of panic or haste, and were slowly approaching the lounge.

At this moment, Mark's expression was extremely tense, and his face twitched slightly from the exertion.

He couldn't help but lick his dry, chapped lips, his fingers gripping the gun tightly and then loosening, adjusting for the optimal firing position.

At this moment, he already had a ruthless plan in mind.

No need to verify their identity; just wait for the footsteps to stop outside the door.

He simply emptied the magazines through the wooden door!

"Tap...tap..."

The footsteps grew closer, each one seemingly landing precisely on Mark's heart.

The closer the footsteps got, the greater his psychological pressure became.

Five, four, three...

Mark frantically counted down in his mind, his eyes fixed on the wooden door, ready to raise his gun and fire at any moment!

However, the footsteps suddenly and eerily disappeared half a meter outside the door.

It was as if everything I had just heard was just a suffocating hallucination.

Mark's expression faltered for a moment.

But soon, his eyes were completely consumed by an extreme madness and ruthlessness!

It seems that the repression has lasted too long, or perhaps the taut nerves have reached the brink of collapse.

In short, Mark had no intention of continuing this damn psychological game.

"Go to hell, you bastard!"

Mark suddenly drew his gun and fired a hysterical burst of bullets at the wooden door directly in front of him.

"Bang bang bang bang bang bang!"

Deafening gunfire erupted instantly in the enclosed lounge.

In an instant, sawdust flew everywhere and smoke filled the air, and countless horrifying holes burst open on the solid wood door panel.

Until the entire magazine of bullets was emptied.

Mark only stopped, panting, when the firing pin made a "click-click" sound indicating that the engine was out of commission.

The strong, pungent smell of gunpowder instantly filled the entire space.

"Huff... huff..."

After emptying the magazine, Mark took deep breaths of the gunpowder-smelling air, and his wildly beating heart finally felt a little calmer.

Regardless of whether the person standing outside the door is human or ghost, they were subjected to such a barrage of gunfire.

At this moment, they are probably riddled with holes due to heavy metal poisoning.

Just to be on the safe side, Mark quickly threw away the empty magazine and pulled a brand new magazine from his back pocket, pushing it into the grip.

Then he slowly approached, gun in hand.

He squinted and looked out through the holes punched in the door.

Just one glance!

Mark stood there, completely stunned, as if struck by lightning.

Under the dim yellow light outside the corridor, there was nothing at all outside the door.

There was no one! No body! Not even a drop of bright red blood!

In the blink of an eye, Mark felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, an uncontrollable sense of horror rushing to the back of his head.

The nerves in my brain suddenly exploded with a "buzz".

Intuition turned into a hysterical scream: Get out of here! It's a trap!

However, it was all too late.

"Pfft! Pfft!"

Two extremely muffled gunshots shattered the silence instantly.

Two bursts of blood exploded on Mark's legs with a "bang".

Two extremely large caliber bullets accurately pierced the wooden door, instantly shattering Mark's two kneecaps.

"ah!!!"

Mark immediately let out a piercing scream.

His knees buckled, he completely lost his balance, and fell heavily backward, face up.

At the same time, a loud "boom" was heard!

The already dilapidated solid wood door was violently kicked open from the outside.

A nimble black figure leaped in, slamming the broken, heavy wooden plank down onto the fallen Mark!

The newcomer was none other than Kane, the Right White Tiger under Lynn's command!

Kane, who had successfully suppressed Mark, showed no emotion on his rock-cold face, as if it were only natural for him to do so.

His cold gaze fell upon Mark, who was struggling desperately.

With a sudden lift of his right leg, he smoothly kicked Mark's right wrist.

A crisp cracking sound as bone broke.

The Glock pistol was kicked into the corner, spinning rapidly.

The entire process of breaking in, suppressing, and disarming was as smooth as flowing water, taking less than three seconds in total.

Mark, the once invincible leader of the Blood Wolf Gang, has completely lost all threats.

"Ah!!! My leg! My hand!"

Only then did Mark belatedly let out a bloodcurdling scream, like a pig being slaughtered.

Crimson blood was rapidly seeping from under the broken door, staining the expensive carpet red.

"You damn bastard! Who are you! Do you know who I am! Do you want to go against the entire Blood Wolf Gang? You'll die a horrible death!"

Mark desperately raised his head, his eyes fixed on Kane, who was pressing down on him, like a venomous snake, and roared furiously through gritted teeth.

He cursed loudly, but inside he felt like he had fallen into an ice cave and was terrified.

The opponent possessed such terrifying skills, and yet he still managed to sneak into the Blood Wolf Gang headquarters at this crucial moment.

We can't just come here to drink beer and catch up!

Faced with Mark's blustering yet cowardly death threat, Kane didn't even glance at him, completely ignoring him.

He merely tilted his head slightly, and respectfully reported to the leader towards the empty doorway:

"Boss, it's under control."

Upon hearing this, Mark felt another violent tremor in his heart.

BOSS?

So this killer, whose skills are as terrifying as a ghost, is actually just a henchman?

Amidst the tremor in his mind, Mark endured the excruciating pain in his knees, straining to turn his neck and stare intently at the doorway.

When the figure, hands in pockets, approaching slowly with unhurried steps, was revealed under the light.

Mark's pupils instantly shrank to slits, as if they were pinpoints.

The muscles in his face contorted wildly in utter disbelief.

"It's you!!! This is impossible! How could you be here!"

At that moment, Mark felt as if a Category 12 hurricane had swept through his mind, and even the excruciating pain in his body was briefly forgotten in the face of this extreme shock.

He stared intently at the Asian youth in front of him, the same one he had threatened not long ago in a slum tent.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Mark."

Lynn walked slowly to Mark, looking down at him as he was pressed against the door like a turtle, a cold smile slowly curving his lips upward:

"Or should I call you... Victor's brother now?"

"You! You...!"

Upon hearing the name Victor, Mark's eyes changed rapidly.

His gaze swept back and forth between the cold-blooded Kane and the mocking Lynn.

Countless clues instantly connected in my mind!

Immediately, an overwhelming rage, impossible to contain, erupted across his face like a volcanic eruption.

"So my brother's death... really was related to you!!!"

Mark's eyes were bloodshot, and he struggled and roared wildly under the door like a mad beast:

"You're the ones who framed and killed my brother! I'll kill you! I swear I'll tear you to pieces!"

[Anger +30]

Seeing the small characters of light that suddenly appeared before him, a hint of a smile flashed in Lin Enshen's eyes.

Really useful!

This is a long-awaited surge in anger!

After calming himself down, Lynn looked at Mark's expression, which seemed to want to devour him and drink his blood, and found it incredibly pleasing to the eye.

They even decided to add fuel to the fire and completely squeeze the value out of this emotional ATM!

Immediately, Lynn sighed softly, looked at Mark, and shook his head with feigned regret:

"Mr. Mark, that's not a very accurate way of putting it. To be precise, your brother Victor was riddled with bullets by the brave Seattle police officers on the spot."

"We are law-abiding citizens, how can you say we killed them?"

"Bullshit!"

Hearing Lynn's chillingly sarcastic remark, Mark's neck veins bulged, and he roared, spitting as he spoke:

"If you two despicable bastards hadn't subdued him beforehand and hadn't tied that damn gun to my brother's hand, how could my brother have failed to surrender to the police? How could he have been shot dead on the spot!"

"Damn it! I should have shot you in the head that day outside the homeless tent!"

[Anger +10]

"Um?"

Seeing that the panel only showed a pitiful ten points, Lynn's brows furrowed imperceptibly, and he was quite dissatisfied.

Isn't this anger level far too low?

Ren, it seems the stimulation wasn't enough.

"But you missed a golden opportunity to kill me, didn't you?"

Lynn sneered and ignored Mark's impotent rage.

He turned and walked unhurriedly to the large leather sofa, sat down, crossed his long legs, and revealed a look of complete control in his eyes:

"Kane, help our esteemed Boss Mark up from the ground. I have some confidential gang matters to discuss with him later."

"yes!"

Kane didn't waste any words, easily lifting the heavy door panel with one hand as if it were a chick.

He roughly pulled up the incapacitated Mark and then threw him heavily onto a sturdy wooden chair.

To make it easier for Lynn to ask questions, the chair was thoughtfully turned halfway so that Mark's face was directly facing Lynn.

At this moment, Mark's knees were a bloody mess, and his broken right hand hung limply at his side.

His chest heaved violently, like a lone wolf with nowhere to turn.

He stared intently at Lynn on the sofa with a vicious look that could tear a person to pieces.

"You seem very angry, Mr. Mark, but I think... your anger is far from enough."

Lynn narrowed her eyes slightly, looking directly into Mark's eyes without any fear, her tone as calm as if she were discussing the weather:

"Kane, since Mr. Mark is so insistent on the details of that night, why don't you do him the trouble and tell him the whole story of your visit to the KK clinic that day, in every possible way?"

"Yes, Boss."

Although Kane was somewhat puzzled, he still faithfully carried out the orders.

There was no opening, and she began to narrate the events in a cold, emotionless voice:

"That night, I sneaked in through the back window of KK Clinic. At the time, your brother Victor was seeing a patient..."

Kane's voice was extremely calm, as if he were reading from a script.

But with each emotionless statement he made, Mark in the chair felt as if he were being slowly tortured.

The veins on his forehead bulged horribly, his eyes almost popped out of their sockets, and he made a hoarse sound from his throat like a wounded, dying wild animal.

If looks could kill, Lynn and Kane would probably be dead tens of thousands of times over by now!

Upon hearing the horrific news of Victor's death by a hail of bullets, Mark's pent-up grief and anger completely overwhelmed him, causing him to lose all reason.

As his blood rushed to his head, Mark hysterically yelled at Lynn:

"Lynn! You utter devil! You deserve to die a horrible death! I'll haunt you even as a ghost!!!"

Faced with this curse that could practically shatter eardrums, Lynn sat on the sofa without even blinking.

He just stared at the frenzied Mark in silence, even with a slight smile of enjoyment on his lips.

Kane, who was standing to the side, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and feel secretly alarmed when he saw this.

As expected of the BOSS, these methods are simply killing someone by destroying their spirit!

Kane had no idea at that moment.

A series of light streaks flashed past in front of Lynn's deep gaze:

[Anger +30]

[Anger has reached Level 1!]

[Drawing survival skills...]

[Firearms Proficiency (Beginner) has been issued...]

……