In less than a minute, the Kun-class fighter caught up to the car transporting Eric and tailed it all the way to a dilapidated residential district.
Without hesitation, White Ghost changed into his custom-made pure white ninja suit, tailored for him by William. He twirled the two titanium katanas in his hands a few times before standing at the edge of the open hatch.
Through his smart glasses, he watched as three plainclothes agents escorted the unconscious Eric out of the vehicle. He gave the order, "Lower altitude, open the hatch."
When the Kun-class fighter was just ten meters above the ground, the strong downwash from the craft caught the agents' attention. Their eyes widened in terror as a figure dressed in solid white descended from the sky.
They hurriedly drew their guns and opened fire. But most bullets were deflected by White Ghost's rapidly swinging blades. The few that landed on his body were absorbed harmlessly by the bulletproof ninja suit.
Instead, because they were so close, the airborne White Ghost easily dispatched two of them with a single strike each.
The last agent didn't even have time to run before White Ghost swept his leg, shattering the man's shin and rendering him unable to flee.
Sheathing his blades, White Ghost hoisted the unconscious Eric in one hand and the surviving agent in the other, walking into the Kun-class fighter.
After locking both of them up, the ship flew to a remote grassland. White Ghost dragged the survivor out and began a brutal interrogation using their ninja-specific methods.
Less than thirty minutes later, White Ghost returned to the ship, blood-stained and annoyed. "U.S. agents nowadays are pathetic. I barely even started and that bastard was already spilling everything."
Sunday didn't respond verbally. Instead, it played the howls of hyenas to summon a local pack, which soon appeared on the scanner.
Since Sunday gave no reply, White Ghost wiped down his katanas and said, "Take me back to Johannesburg. And book me a table at the best restaurant."
"Understood, Mr. Bai."
"Damn it, I'm called White Ghost, not 'Mr. Bai.' Got that?"
"Understood, Mr. Bai. Your table has been reserved. You're welcome. Also, your assistant, Miss Cheng Haiyao, has asked when you'll return to Asia."
"Tell her to wait," White Ghost sneered. "You think I'd dare return to Asia without completing that bastard Devonshire's mission?"
As the jet flew back to Johannesburg, White Ghost changed into a casual suit and stepped out, asking, "How long does it take the ship to return to England?"
"Approximately thirty minutes, Mr. Bai."
"Then send that Eric bastard back. If he wakes up and sees the ship, I'll have to silence him."
"Understood."
Sunday took over and piloted the craft back to London, while White Ghost, now in a good mood, drove off in his Land Rover for a gourmet feast.
Meanwhile, inside the consulate, Tobin sat stiffly, maintaining a blank expression through the interrogation while constantly thinking about how to escape.
The personnel in the consulate were no match for Tobin. Rather than extracting intel from him, they inadvertently let slip useful information themselves. This infuriated the CIA director back in the U.S.
He immediately ordered that Tobin be transferred to a safe house in Johannesburg to await professional interrogators.
As for why he wasn't flown back to the States, it had already been determined that the agents White Ghost killed earlier were likely from the U.S. military.
Under these circumstances, asking for military assistance was out of the question. Plus, keeping Tobin in the consulate risked another extraction attempt.
Thus, a safe house in Johannesburg was activated, and the security personnel assigned there made William think of someone from five years ago—the money-grubbing mercenary.
"Ask Carlos 'Cross' if that guy in the safe house is Colin, the one who trained under him, or just someone who looks exactly like him."
A minute passed without a response before a video call from Carlos lit up.
William snapped his fingers to accept the call, and the once-ruthless assassin Carlos appeared in the projection—holding a baby in his arms.
"What's this?" William raised an eyebrow.
"Hey William, long time no see," Carlos grinned and gestured at the little one. "Rita, say hi to Uncle William."
"Ah... ooh," the chubby baby, with only two teeth, raised her tiny hands, trying to grab at William's image on the screen.
Recovering from the surprise, William curiously asked, "Is this Wesley's daughter? Or yours?"
"Of course she's mine," Carlos said naturally. "If she were Wesley's, do you think he and Fox would let me raise her?"
"Alright then, congratulations, Carlos. And congratulations to me too—I just got promoted a generation and became an uncle."
"No, no, no," Carlos quickly shook his head. "Sorry, I got carried away. You should be Rita's big brother."
"Whatever," William rolled his eyes. "You guys live in Castle Town now?"
"Of course," Carlos beamed. "Wesley told me there's no safer place in all of England than near Devonshire Castle."
He kissed Rita on the cheek and continued with a laugh, "Since I've decided to start a family and retire, I needed somewhere peaceful and pressure-free. I even took a job as a town police officer."
A town cop?
A super-assassin like Cross working as a cop? Well, it might be a waste of talent, but it was a win for Castle Town.
"OK, since you're officially retired, shouldn't we plan a retirement dinner? If you don't mind, I'd like to invite your family to the castle."
Hearing William openly acknowledge his retirement, Carlos visibly relaxed. But he shook his head and said, "Let's wait a few more years. Your identity draws too much attention, and my past is... dark. It could bring unnecessary trouble.
Once Rita's old enough to run around, I'll take her to the stables. By then, you two meeting won't raise suspicion."
"Fine. If she likes horses, aside from Chitu, she can pick any in the stables. Who knows, she might become Castle Town's first equestrian champion."
"Equestrian champion?" Carlos froze for a moment, then grinned ear to ear. "That's perfect! If it were race cars, I don't think my heart could take it."
"Car~los!"
As the two laughed and chatted about Rita's future, a woman's voice called from outside Carlos's room.
"Sorry, William, that's Rita's mom. Give me a sec."
That "sec" turned into ten minutes before Carlos returned, looking slightly awkward.
"Apologies, William. I was changing Rita's diaper so..."
"Stop, stop, stop," William raised a hand to cut him off, laughing. "Let's get back on topic. Don't expect someone like me, who's never considered having kids, to discuss diapers with you."
"Hahaha, alright, let's get serious." Carlos laughed heartily, then his face settled into the calm, cold expression of old.
"Your family descends from the Templars, right? Then you must know about the centuries-old feud between the Knights Templar and the Assassin Brotherhood. Colin is the successor I personally trained."
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