"Diamond Leg! You're Diamond Leg, aren't you!"
Inside the private room, gunshots and Hammerhead's heart-wrenching screams rose and fell.
Daniel didn't put away his golden desert eagle until he had emptied the magazine, still feeling a sense of unfinished business.
He had a poor memory, so he always preferred to settle scores on the spot.
Daniel hadn't forgotten Hammerhead's arrogant and mocking face from earlier; a mere NPC daring to provoke the Fourth Calamity was simply asking for death!
At this moment, Hammerhead's legs were a gruesome sight, covered in dense bullet holes. Blood soaked his pant legs a dark brown, spreading into a stark stain on the carpet.
It was hard to imagine what kind of inhuman torture he had endured in such a short time.
Hammerhead lay sprawled on the ground, his eyes unfocused, repeatedly muttering, "I'm Iron Head Skill, not Diamond Leg, I'm Iron Head Skill, not Diamond Leg."
Wesley, who had been desperately hiding under the sofa, witnessed this bloody and brutal scene, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.
Too brutal!
Wesley prided himself on having been in the underworld for many years; what kind of scene hadn't he witnessed!
But the scene before him, he truly hadn't seen anything like it!
A single person had almost wiped out the entire Maggia Gang and brutalized a notorious gang leader like Hammerhead as if he were a toy.
This couldn't even be called a battle; it was a one-sided slaughter!
Wesley had never believed in any gods, but now he did, constantly praying to various deities that this evil god wouldn't discover him.
Perhaps the gods heard his prayers.
Daniel seemed not to have noticed Wesley in the corner. He dragged Hammerhead by the ankle, like a dead dog, pulling him out of the private room.
Listening to the retreating footsteps, Wesley finally felt his heart begin to beat again.
"Hallelujah!"
He made the sign of the cross over his chest, scrambling out from under the sofa on all fours, forcing his eyes to avoid the messy corpses and pools of blood on the floor, and immediately dialed a number.
"What is it?"
A deep, oppressive voice came from the other end of the phone.
Wesley took a deep breath: "Mr. Kingpin, something's happened. The Maggia Gang is gone, and Hammerhead has been taken away!"
"Hmm?"
Kingpin's voice showed a hint of clear surprise: "Was it the Devil Gang? Or the Russians?"
"No! Neither!"
Wesley's voice trembled slightly: "It was a man I've never seen before. He single-handedly took out the Maggia Gang, and even Hammerhead was no match for him. According to what he said, he seems to be from the NYPD."
Kingpin: "?"
When did the NYPD become so formidable?
Meanwhile, Daniel was dragging the unconscious Hammerhead through a dark alley.
As for the small fry who escaped in the private room, he couldn't be bothered with him. He wasn't a red-named target, and killing him wouldn't yield any rewards.
"System, why can't I use the map for quick teleportation?"
Daniel complained in his mind; dragging a living person around was truly troublesome.
"Map teleportation prohibits carrying living beings, and also prohibits carrying objects exceeding 10 kilograms."
"Understood." Daniel glanced at Hammerhead by his feet. "I'll chop him up right now and take 10 kilograms of meat with me."
"..."
Just as Daniel and the system were bickering, a whooshing sound suddenly erupted!
A dark red billy club shot out from above and to the side like a venomous snake, aiming directly for the wrist with which he was dragging Hammerhead!
Bang!
The gunshot rang out almost simultaneously with the billy club's attack!
Daniel didn't even fully turn around. He simply raised his wrist casually, and the golden desert eagle spat fire. A bullet precisely struck the billy club in mid-air, sending sparks flying and causing it to clatter to the ground.
Then he looked up, towards the source of the attack.
Above the club's entrance, at the top of a tall lamppost, stood a mysterious figure.
The person was entirely clad in a tight, dark red leather suit, wearing a half-face mask with two pointed horns. The lower edge of the mask revealed a stubbled chin.
Against the backdrop of the dim yellow lamplight and the boundless darkness behind him, the entire figure resembled a bat demon descending from the shadows, exuding a cold and dangerous aura.
That's right, this person was the dark Guardian, Night Devil!
"Hand him over."
Night Devil's voice was deep and hoarse, and he pointed at the unconscious Hammerhead at Daniel's feet.
Daniel grinned: "You say hand him over, and I just do it? Wouldn't I lose face then?"
Seeing Daniel's frivolous and casual attitude, Night Devil's brows furrowed tightly beneath his mask: "He should be judged by the law, not subjected to your vigilante justice."
"Coincidentally, I am NYPD." Daniel shrugged.
"No, you're not."
Night Devil denied it emphatically, his voice growing heavier, "A real NYPD wouldn't be like you. I can smell the strong scent of blood on you!"
As the saying goes, if God closes a door, he leaves a back door open for you.
And Night Devil was clearly the man who had entered God's back door.
Although he was blind, he possessed sensory abilities far beyond ordinary people. Except for his sight, all his other senses had become extraordinarily keen.
In terms of hearing, Night Devil could easily hear a person's heartbeat, and even the sound of blood flowing within their body.
In terms of smell, he could distinguish the natural scent of individuals, and remember and identify them, no matter how they tried to mask their scent.
And on Daniel, Night Devil smelled a bloodlust so thick it was almost tangible, a scent that could not be acquired from killing just a dozen people.
It was the scent of slaughtering hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of people!
"How many people have you killed, exactly?"
Night Devil couldn't help but ask.
Daniel was still cheerful: "Do you remember how many loaves of bread you've eaten in your lifetime?"
This casual yet cruel answer made Night Devil's breathing suddenly catch.
As a devout Catholic, he adhered to an inviolable principle of not killing.
Daniel's act of slaughter, treating human lives as mere trifles, was an absolutely intolerable desecration and evil to Night Devil.
"Those are living human lives!" Night Devil's voice rose with anger.
Human lives?
Daniel seemed to have heard some amusing joke, scoffing as a matter of course: "They're just a bunch of data. They don't truly die."
He paused, the muzzle of his gun casually dropping towards Hammerhead at his feet.
"Just like this!"
Bang!!
Under Night Devil's shocked expression, the muzzle of the golden desert eagle spat deadly fire, and the bullet instantly tore through Hammerhead's neck!
Clearly, this Iron Head Skill hadn't managed to train his kung fu to his neck. A large gush of blood surged out like a fountain from the severed carotid artery.
Hammerhead's body twitched violently once, then completely fell silent.
Daniel looked at the corpse on the ground, shaking his head with a hint of regret: "Too bad. If I brought him back alive, the mission completion rate would be higher, but dragging him is just too troublesome."
Night Devil stood frozen at the top of the lamppost, a bone-chilling cold instantly creeping up his spine.
He ended a life so casually, just because it was troublesome!?