"Don't be afraid, I don't eat people."
Mr. John said softly in front of the bald man, although the joke wasn't funny.
If he wasn't currently pulling out a bloody pencil, it might have made people feel refreshed.
The bald man was so scared he could only nod, his mind blank, feeling like he would die the next second.
Actually, it wasn't the pain that was unbearable; in that instant, fear was ignited by pain, creating a hundredfold fear in his mind.
"Don't be afraid, I don't eat people."
Mr. John said softly in front of the bald man, although the joke wasn't funny.
If he wasn't currently pulling out a bloody pencil, it might have made people feel refreshed.
The bald man was so scared he could only nod, his mind blank, feeling like he would die the next second.
Actually, it wasn't the pain that was unbearable; in that instant, fear was ignited by pain, creating a hundredfold fear in his mind.
The bald man's limbs were useless now; even if he wanted to escape, his legs were weak.
That pencil seemed very long, but in reality, it wasn't.
As the pencil tip detached from his palm, bringing droplets of blood that shattered on the ground, the bald man slumped there.
Handing the still-dripping pencil to May, Mr. John thoughtfully reminded her, "Wash it, and it can still be used."
"Okay." May used two fingers, both scared and careful, to pinch the end that wasn't stained with blood.
She decided that this pencil must be thrown away.
Peter was already stunned.
This scene caused a shock to his young mind no less than a nuclear bomb explosion.
It was like someone suddenly told him that in the future, he would be someone who shoots white sticky stuff all over the walls.
Mr. John, however, looked accustomed to it, smiling, and gently explained to May, "Actually, I'm not usually like this. I just had a small surgery before that made me a little unusual."
May was now a bit suspicious, wondering if Mr. John might have escaped from a mental hospital.
But it wasn't good to say it directly now, after all, Mr. John had also helped her.
Mr. John kicked the bald man, telling him to roll away from the car.
The car, just driven out of Dad's garage, now had an extra hole. Mr. John thought it wasn't a big problem, probably just needed repairs.
No big deal, Mr. John opened the car door, ready to leave. Before he left, he said to the little boy Peter, who was full of admiration, "Study hard, you'll find that knowledge is a very useful thing."
"That's so cool, how did you do that just now?"
Peter quickly asked about that move just now. Mr. John didn't hide it, "As long as you have enough speed, even paper can cut through wood."
"Also, one question, is Invisible Beast bread really that delicious?"
Little Peter asked in confusion, "What is an Invisible Beast?"
Mr. John pointed to the bread he had eaten half of, "This guy is an Invisible Beast."
"That's awesome, especially the jam inside." Peter didn't spare his praise.
"I think the Invisible Beast would be very happy to know it's so popular."
Waving his hand, Mr. John started the sports car.
"Boom!"
Fire and explosion instantly engulfed him.
The explosion swept up the two people on the street corner.
...
Death did not come.
May subconsciously hugged Peter, using her body to shield him, the flames burning their skin.
May screamed out, she instinctively closed her eyes.
But strangely, although the flames had burned them, there was no pain.
Just some warm feeling.
Like the warm air from a hairdryer, it wouldn't cause burns.
May screamed for a long time, until Peter couldn't stand the suffocating love and patted May's arm with his hand.
May, who had reacted, opened her eyes and saw that she was completely unharmed.
The leaking gasoline accelerated the burning, reducing the car to a frame.
But the person inside had vanished.
Mr. John, who should have been in the car, was standing next to the two people at some point, holding a wand, his face calm.
"Getting used to the Magic World, these attacks from Muggles are quite sudden."
He looked at the car.
Well, no need to repair it, it's a total loss.
It was probably rigged with a bomb when he bought the bread.
Hope this wasn't Dad's favorite one.
The impact and fragments of the explosion were blocked by his Iron Shield Charm, and the flames were prevented from burning by the Freezing Charm.
The moment he was sitting in the car, about to start it, he sensed something was wrong and used Apparition to get outside.
At the same time, he protected the two people who were caught in the blast.
It's just that the bakery was a bit miserable, all the glass was shattered.
The chubby store manager ran out, staring dumbfounded at the exploding luxury car.
Mr. John walked up to the manager, casually pulled out a business card with writing appearing on it, and handed it to him.
"I'm very sorry, but after you calculate the losses, you can call the number on this card, and someone will come to fix everything for you."
The store owner took the business card blankly, still not having recovered, "Silver Hand Fashion Architecture?"
This was a name he had never heard before. He looked up.
Mr. John and the other two had disappeared.
The chubby store owner scratched his head and looked back at the bakery.
An unexpected disaster.
...
May didn't know how she ended up on another street, and neither did Peter.
She looked down and saw that her hand was being held by Mr. John.
She quickly let go of his hand.
Mr. John apologized, "Sorry for getting you involved in this."
"Who exactly are you?" May demanded.
"John Wick. As for who exactly, you don't need to remember."
Looking at the guy sneaking into the crowd, Mr. John said casually, "Originally, I should have sent you back, but now I need to follow someone, so I need you to follow me temporarily."
May hesitated, because Mr. John had saved her. It was hard for her to suddenly decide that this person was bad.
Mr. John originally wanted to send them back and use a Memory Charm to erase their memories, but he found the person who had planted the bomb in his car.
In order to find the Ten Rings who had attacked his family, Mr. John had to temporarily give up the idea of erasing the memories of the two.
"We need to change our disguise."
Mr. John waved his wand, and the clothes on Aunt May's body turned into a set of urban office white-collar lady attire. Peter's clothes were changed to red and blue colors.
He changed into a black casual outfit for himself.
This move of his left the two of them speechless.
"Is this magic?" Peter kept touching his clothes, wanting to know how this outfit got on him.
It was just like a fairy godmother.
"This is the best magic." Mr. John smiled slightly, admitting it without modesty.
This was genuine Magic.
He saw that guy walking towards another street.
Taking the big and the small, Mr. John followed.
May was caught up in it, and for some reason, she was even a little excited.
"Are you an Agent? 007?"
She and Peter were like curious babies, asking questions in Mr. John's ear.
"Are you talking about the one from MI6? Unfortunately, I am not."
Mr. John followed the guy who planted the bomb. He did know people from MI6.
After wandering around, they arrived at a fried chicken shop.
That guy had just finished bombing someone's car, and then came to the fried chicken shop to change clothes and sell fried chicken.
They're both frying, do you really not distinguish between people and chickens?
"Then you're a magician?" Mr. John observed the other person from across the street.
Curious baby Peter asked, "Then you must be very famous in New York."
"I don't mind people thinking that, but in reality, I'm not, and I only arrived in this city yesterday." Mr. John invited May, "Want some fried chicken?"
May tucked her hair behind her ear, shrugged like Mr. John, and said, "I don't mind."
"Then let's get a fried chicken."
The three people walked across the busy street, came to the fried chicken shop, and pushed open the door.
"Welcome."
The car-bombing employee looked up, seemingly not recognizing the three people.
Perhaps in his subconscious, the three people were already dead, or perhaps he didn't even know the people he bombed.
Mr. John glanced at the menu and said, "We'll have three fried chicken legs, and a portion of fried chicken pieces. Oh, and I also need a super-size fries."
"I think our Mr. Peter will love it."
"Don't buy him that," May objected, "That's too much."
"It's okay, that's how it is when you're growing."
The two of them talked like a married couple discussing their child, although the woman seemed more mature.
The employee smiled knowingly and asked the customers to wait a moment.
Mr. John came and sat by the window, with May and Peter sitting across from him.
"There's a million dollars under your butt," Mr. John suddenly said to May.
May was startled, thinking it was a vulgar joke, and let out a dry laugh, "That joke is a bit stale."
Mr. John also laughed, "I guess that's his reward for killing three people, but hiding it under the chair is quite unusual."
Seeing that he didn't seem to be joking, May reached down and felt the chair.
Sure enough, there were some uneven places, looking like the imprint of stacked banknotes.
Was there really a million dollars under this butt?
Mr. John's words also made her alert. She discreetly glanced at the fried chicken employee, lowered her voice, and leaned closer to Mr. John, saying, "What should we do? Call the police?"
"The police are useful, but not omnipotent." Mr. John saw the employee preparing the fried chicken, and he said casually, "I'll handle it."
"How are you going to do that?" May asked in surprise.
The employee brought over the fried chicken. Mr. John turned his head to look at him.
His red-brown eyes had turned black at some point. The employee, completely unprepared, met the gaze of those eyes.
"Tell me, who told you to bomb that car?"
"What?"
The employee immediately became alert when he heard this.
He reached behind him, but didn't find the pistol hidden there.
Instead, he touched cold scales. He took his hand out and saw that his arm was wrapped by a patterned snake.
In an instant, he seemed to return to his childhood, in a discarded concrete pipe, where he encountered that cobra.
The shadow of his childhood attacked him, making him let out a terrified scream.
Immediately after, the bodies of the three people in front of him turned into snakes, surging towards him.
This Mexican employee accidentally slipped, his face full of terror.
He scrambled back, trying to get away.
He touched a stool, wanting to lift it for a sense of security.
But after picking it up, he realized something was wrong. The high stool felt cold and scaly.
Looking up, he was holding a thick, strong snake in his hand.
The snake opened its mouth eerily and asked, "Who told you to bomb that car?"
Snakes filled the shop, overwhelming the employee. He was almost buried.
He shouted, "It was Simon!"
The snakes stopped surging towards him. The large snake continued to speak in human language, "Who is he?"
"A boss in Hell's Kitchen. He found me this morning, gave me some money, and told me to plant a bomb in a car."
The employee begged, "I had to do it, otherwise he wouldn't let me go."
"But I see you enjoying it." The large snake's black eyes seemed to see through people's hearts, "Just like every time you bomb someone to Death, you carve a mark on the coat rack at home."
The employee became more and more scared when he heard this.
"Let me count how many you've killed, thirteen. That's not a lucky number. Adding today's, you have a great sense of accomplishment."
"No, it's not like that." The employee wanted to argue.
But the snakes had already completely engulfed him.
The bald man's limbs were useless now; even if he wanted to escape, his legs were weak.
That pencil seemed very long, but in reality, it wasn't.
As the pencil tip detached from his palm, bringing droplets of blood that shattered on the ground, the bald man slumped there.
Handing the still-dripping pencil to May, Mr. John thoughtfully reminded her, "Wash it, and it can still be used."
"Okay." May used two fingers, both scared and careful, to pinch the end that wasn't stained with blood.
She decided that this pencil must be thrown away.
Peter was already stunned.
This scene caused a shock to his young mind no less than a nuclear bomb explosion.
It was like someone suddenly told him that in the future, he would be someone who shoots white sticky stuff all over the walls.
Mr. John, however, looked accustomed to it, smiling, and gently explained to May, "Actually, I'm not usually like this. I just had a small surgery before that made me a little unusual."
May was now a bit suspicious, wondering if Mr. John might have escaped from a mental hospital.
But it wasn't good to say it directly now, after all, Mr. John had also helped her.
Mr. John kicked the bald man, telling him to roll away from the car.
The car, just driven out of Dad's garage, now had an extra hole. Mr. John thought it wasn't a big problem, probably just needed repairs.
No big deal, Mr. John opened the car door, ready to leave. Before he left, he said to the little boy Peter, who was full of admiration, "Study hard, you'll find that knowledge is a very useful thing."
"That's so cool, how did you do that just now?"
Peter quickly asked about that move just now. Mr. John didn't hide it, "As long as you have enough speed, even paper can cut through wood."
"Also, one question, is Invisible Beast bread really that delicious?"
Little Peter asked in confusion, "What is an Invisible Beast?"
Mr. John pointed to the bread he had eaten half of, "This guy is an Invisible Beast."
"That's awesome, especially the jam inside." Peter didn't spare his praise.
"I think the Invisible Beast would be very happy to know it's so popular."
Waving his hand, Mr. John started the sports car.
"Boom!"
Fire and explosion instantly engulfed him.
The explosion swept up the two people on the street corner.
...
Death did not come.
May subconsciously hugged Peter, using her body to shield him, the flames burning their skin.
May screamed out, she instinctively closed her eyes.
But strangely, although the flames had burned them, there was no pain.
Just some warm feeling.
Like the warm air from a hairdryer, it wouldn't cause burns.
May screamed for a long time, until Peter couldn't stand the suffocating love and patted May's arm with his hand.
May, who had reacted, opened her eyes and saw that she was completely unharmed.
The leaking gasoline accelerated the burning, reducing the car to a frame.
But the person inside had vanished.
Mr. John, who should have been in the car, was standing next to the two people at some point, holding a wand, his face calm.
"Getting used to the Magic World, these attacks from Muggles are quite sudden."
He looked at the car.
Well, no need to repair it, it's a total loss.
It was probably rigged with a bomb when he bought the bread.
Hope this wasn't Dad's favorite one.
The impact and fragments of the explosion were blocked by his Iron Shield Charm, and the flames were prevented from burning by the Freezing Charm.
The moment he was sitting in the car, about to start it, he sensed something was wrong and used Apparition to get outside.
At the same time, he protected the two people who were caught in the blast.
It's just that the bakery was a bit miserable, all the glass was shattered.
The chubby store manager ran out, staring dumbfounded at the exploding luxury car.
Mr. John walked up to the manager, casually pulled out a business card with writing appearing on it, and handed it to him.
"I'm very sorry, but after you calculate the losses, you can call the number on this card, and someone will come to fix everything for you."
The store owner took the business card blankly, still not having recovered, "Silver Hand Fashion Architecture?"
This was a name he had never heard before. He looked up.
Mr. John and the other two had disappeared.
The chubby store owner scratched his head and looked back at the bakery.
An unexpected disaster.
...
May didn't know how she ended up on another street, and neither did Peter.
She looked down and saw that her hand was being held by Mr. John.
She quickly let go of his hand.
Mr. John apologized, "Sorry for getting you involved in this."
"Who exactly are you?" May demanded.
"John Wick. As for who exactly, you don't need to remember."
Looking at the guy sneaking into the crowd, Mr. John said casually, "Originally, I should have sent you back, but now I need to follow someone, so I need you to follow me temporarily."
May hesitated, because Mr. John had saved her. It was hard for her to suddenly decide that this person was bad.
Mr. John originally wanted to send them back and use a Memory Charm to erase their memories, but he found the person who had planted the bomb in his car.
In order to find the Ten Rings who had attacked his family, Mr. John had to temporarily give up the idea of erasing the memories of the two.
"We need to change our disguise."
Mr. John waved his wand, and the clothes on Aunt May's body turned into a set of urban office white-collar lady attire. Peter's clothes were changed to red and blue colors.
He changed into a black casual outfit for himself.
This move of his left the two of them speechless.
"Is this magic?" Peter kept touching his clothes, wanting to know how this outfit got on him.
It was just like a fairy godmother.
"This is the best magic." Mr. John smiled slightly, admitting it without modesty.
This was genuine Magic.
He saw that guy walking towards another street.
Taking the big and the small, Mr. John followed.
May was caught up in it, and for some reason, she was even a little excited.
"Are you an Agent? 007?"
She and Peter were like curious babies, asking questions in Mr. John's ear.
"Are you talking about the one from MI6? Unfortunately, I am not."
Mr. John followed the guy who planted the bomb. He did know people from MI6.
After wandering around, they arrived at a fried chicken shop.
That guy had just finished bombing someone's car, and then came to the fried chicken shop to change clothes and sell fried chicken.
They're both frying, do you really not distinguish between people and chickens?
"Then you're a magician?" Mr. John observed the other person from across the street.
Curious baby Peter asked, "Then you must be very famous in New York."
"I don't mind people thinking that, but in reality, I'm not, and I only arrived in this city yesterday." Mr. John invited May, "Want some fried chicken?"
May tucked her hair behind her ear, shrugged like Mr. John, and said, "I don't mind."
"Then let's get a fried chicken."
The three people walked across the busy street, came to the fried chicken shop, and pushed open the door.
"Welcome."
The car-bombing employee looked up, seemingly not recognizing the three people.
Perhaps in his subconscious, the three people were already dead, or perhaps he didn't even know the people he bombed.
Mr. John glanced at the menu and said, "We'll have three fried chicken legs, and a portion of fried chicken pieces. Oh, and I also need a super-size fries."
"I think our Mr. Peter will love it."
"Don't buy him that," May objected, "That's too much."
"It's okay, that's how it is when you're growing."
The two of them talked like a married couple discussing their child, although the woman seemed more mature.
The employee smiled knowingly and asked the customers to wait a moment.
Mr. John came and sat by the window, with May and Peter sitting across from him.
"There's a million dollars under your butt," Mr. John suddenly said to May.
May was startled, thinking it was a vulgar joke, and let out a dry laugh, "That joke is a bit stale."
Mr. John also laughed, "I guess that's his reward for killing three people, but hiding it under the chair is quite unusual."
Seeing that he didn't seem to be joking, May reached down and felt the chair.
Sure enough, there were some uneven places, looking like the imprint of stacked banknotes.
Was there really a million dollars under this butt?
Mr. John's words also made her alert. She discreetly glanced at the fried chicken employee, lowered her voice, and leaned closer to Mr. John, saying, "What should we do? Call the police?"
"The police are useful, but not omnipotent." Mr. John saw the employee preparing the fried chicken, and he said casually, "I'll handle it."
"How are you going to do that?" May asked in surprise.
The employee brought over the fried chicken. Mr. John turned his head to look at him.
His red-brown eyes had turned black at some point. The employee, completely unprepared, met the gaze of those eyes.
"Tell me, who told you to bomb that car?"
"What?"
The employee immediately became alert when he heard this.
He reached behind him, but didn't find the pistol hidden there.
Instead, he touched cold scales. He took his hand out and saw that his arm was wrapped by a patterned snake.
In an instant, he seemed to return to his childhood, in a discarded concrete pipe, where he encountered that cobra.
The shadow of his childhood attacked him, making him let out a terrified scream.
Immediately after, the bodies of the three people in front of him turned into snakes, surging towards him.
This Mexican employee accidentally slipped, his face full of terror.
He scrambled back, trying to get away.
He touched a stool, wanting to lift it for a sense of security.
But after picking it up, he realized something was wrong. The high stool felt cold and scaly.
Looking up, he was holding a thick, strong snake in his hand.
The snake opened its mouth eerily and asked, "Who told you to bomb that car?"
Snakes filled the shop, overwhelming the employee. He was almost buried.
He shouted, "It was Simon!"
The snakes stopped surging towards him. The large snake continued to speak in human language, "Who is he?"
"A boss in Hell's Kitchen. He found me this morning, gave me some money, and told me to plant a bomb in a car."
The employee begged, "I had to do it, otherwise he wouldn't let me go."
"But I see you enjoying it." The large snake's black eyes seemed to see through people's hearts, "Just like every time you bomb someone to Death, you carve a mark on the coat rack at home."
The employee became more and more scared when he heard this.
"Let me count how many you've killed, thirteen. That's not a lucky number. Adding today's, you have a great sense of accomplishment."
"No, it's not like that." The employee wanted to argue.
But the snakes had already completely engulfed him.
"Don't be afraid, I don't eat people."
Mr. John said softly in front of the bald man, although the joke wasn't funny.
If he wasn't currently pulling out a bloody pencil, it might have made people feel refreshed.
The bald man was so scared he could only nod, his mind blank, feeling like he would die the next second.
Actually, it wasn't the pain that was unbearable; in that instant, fear was ignited by pain, creating a hundredfold fear in his mind.
The bald man's limbs were useless now; even if he wanted to escape, his legs were weak.
That pencil seemed very long, but in reality, it wasn't.
As the pencil tip detached from his palm, bringing droplets of blood that shattered on the ground, the bald man slumped there.
Handing the still-dripping pencil to May, Mr. John thoughtfully reminded her, "Wash it, and it can still be used."
"Okay." May used two fingers, both scared and careful, to pinch the end that wasn't stained with blood.
She decided that this pencil must be thrown away.
Peter was already stunned.
This scene caused a shock to his young mind no less than a nuclear bomb explosion.
It was like someone suddenly told him that in the future, he would be someone who shoots white sticky stuff all over the walls.
Mr. John, however, looked accustomed to it, smiling, and gently explained to May, "Actually, I'm not usually like this. I just had a small surgery before that made me a little unusual."
May was now a bit suspicious, wondering if Mr. John might have escaped from a mental hospital.
But it wasn't good to say it directly now, after all, Mr. John had also helped her.
Mr. John kicked the bald man, telling him to roll away from the car.
The car, just driven out of Dad's garage, now had an extra hole. Mr. John thought it wasn't a big problem, probably just needed repairs.
No big deal, Mr. John opened the car door, ready to leave. Before he left, he said to the little boy Peter, who was full of admiration, "Study hard, you'll find that knowledge is a very useful thing."
"That's so cool, how did you do that just now?"
Peter quickly asked about that move just now. Mr. John didn't hide it, "As long as you have enough speed, even paper can cut through wood."
"Also, one question, is Invisible Beast bread really that delicious?"
Little Peter asked in confusion, "What is an Invisible Beast?"
Mr. John pointed to the bread he had eaten half of, "This guy is an Invisible Beast."
"That's awesome, especially the jam inside." Peter didn't spare his praise.
"I think the Invisible Beast would be very happy to know it's so popular."
Waving his hand, Mr. John started the sports car.
"Boom!"
Fire and explosion instantly engulfed him.
The explosion swept up the two people on the street corner.
...
Death did not come.
May subconsciously hugged Peter, using her body to shield him, the flames burning their skin.
May screamed out, she instinctively closed her eyes.
But strangely, although the flames had burned them, there was no pain.
Just some warm feeling.
Like the warm air from a hairdryer, it wouldn't cause burns.
May screamed for a long time, until Peter couldn't stand the suffocating love and patted May's arm with his hand.
May, who had reacted, opened her eyes and saw that she was completely unharmed.
The leaking gasoline accelerated the burning, reducing the car to a frame.
But the person inside had vanished.
Mr. John, who should have been in the car, was standing next to the two people at some point, holding a wand, his face calm.
"Getting used to the Magic World, these attacks from Muggles are quite sudden."
He looked at the car.
Well, no need to repair it, it's a total loss.
It was probably rigged with a bomb when he bought the bread.
Hope this wasn't Dad's favorite one.
The impact and fragments of the explosion were blocked by his Iron Shield Charm, and the flames were prevented from burning by the Freezing Charm.
The moment he was sitting in the car, about to start it, he sensed something was wrong and used Apparition to get outside.
At the same time, he protected the two people who were caught in the blast.
It's just that the bakery was a bit miserable, all the glass was shattered.
The chubby store manager ran out, staring dumbfounded at the exploding luxury car.
Mr. John walked up to the manager, casually pulled out a business card with writing appearing on it, and handed it to him.
"I'm very sorry, but after you calculate the losses, you can call the number on this card, and someone will come to fix everything for you."
The store owner took the business card blankly, still not having recovered, "Silver Hand Fashion Architecture?"
This was a name he had never heard before. He looked up.
Mr. John and the other two had disappeared.
The chubby store owner scratched his head and looked back at the bakery.
An unexpected disaster.
...
May didn't know how she ended up on another street, and neither did Peter.
She looked down and saw that her hand was being held by Mr. John.
She quickly let go of his hand.
Mr. John apologized, "Sorry for getting you involved in this."
"Who exactly are you?" May demanded.
"John Wick. As for who exactly, you don't need to remember."
Looking at the guy sneaking into the crowd, Mr. John said casually, "Originally, I should have sent you back, but now I need to follow someone, so I need you to follow me temporarily."
May hesitated, because Mr. John had saved her. It was hard for her to suddenly decide that this person was bad.
Mr. John originally wanted to send them back and use a Memory Charm to erase their memories, but he found the person who had planted the bomb in his car.
In order to find the Ten Rings who had attacked his family, Mr. John had to temporarily give up the idea of erasing the memories of the two.
"We need to change our disguise."
Mr. John waved his wand, and the clothes on Aunt May's body turned into a set of urban office white-collar lady attire. Peter's clothes were changed to red and blue colors.
He changed into a black casual outfit for himself.
This move of his left the two of them speechless.
"Is this magic?" Peter kept touching his clothes, wanting to know how this outfit got on him.
It was just like a fairy godmother.
"This is the best magic." Mr. John smiled slightly, admitting it without modesty.
This was genuine Magic.
He saw that guy walking towards another street.
Taking the big and the small, Mr. John followed.
May was caught up in it, and for some reason, she was even a little excited.
"Are you an Agent? 007?"
She and Peter were like curious babies, asking questions in Mr. John's ear.
"Are you talking about the one from MI6? Unfortunately, I am not."
Mr. John followed the guy who planted the bomb. He did know people from MI6.
After wandering around, they arrived at a fried chicken shop.
That guy had just finished bombing someone's car, and then came to the fried chicken shop to change clothes and sell fried chicken.
They're both frying, do you really not distinguish between people and chickens?
"Then you're a magician?" Mr. John observed the other person from across the street.
Curious baby Peter asked, "Then you must be very famous in New York."
"I don't mind people thinking that, but in reality, I'm not, and I only arrived in this city yesterday." Mr. John invited May, "Want some fried chicken?"
May tucked her hair behind her ear, shrugged like Mr. John, and said, "I don't mind."
"Then let's get a fried chicken."
The three people walked across the busy street, came to the fried chicken shop, and pushed open the door.
"Welcome."
The car-bombing employee looked up, seemingly not recognizing the three people.
Perhaps in his subconscious, the three people were already dead, or perhaps he didn't even know the people he bombed.
Mr. John glanced at the menu and said, "We'll have three fried chicken legs, and a portion of fried chicken pieces. Oh, and I also need a super-size fries."
"I think our Mr. Peter will love it."
"Don't buy him that," May objected, "That's too much."
"It's okay, that's how it is when you're growing."
The two of them talked like a married couple discussing their child, although the woman seemed more mature.
The employee smiled knowingly and asked the customers to wait a moment.
Mr. John came and sat by the window, with May and Peter sitting across from him.
"There's a million dollars under your butt," Mr. John suddenly said to May.
May was startled, thinking it was a vulgar joke, and let out a dry laugh, "That joke is a bit stale."
Mr. John also laughed, "I guess that's his reward for killing three people, but hiding it under the chair is quite unusual."
Seeing that he didn't seem to be joking, May reached down and felt the chair.
Sure enough, there were some uneven places, looking like the imprint of stacked banknotes.
Was there really a million dollars under this butt?
Mr. John's words also made her alert. She discreetly glanced at the fried chicken employee, lowered her voice, and leaned closer to Mr. John, saying, "What should we do? Call the police?"
"The police are useful, but not omnipotent." Mr. John saw the employee preparing the fried chicken, and he said casually, "I'll handle it."
"How are you going to do that?" May asked in surprise.
The employee brought over the fried chicken. Mr. John turned his head to look at him.
His red-brown eyes had turned black at some point. The employee, completely unprepared, met the gaze of those eyes.
"Tell me, who told you to bomb that car?"
"What?"
The employee immediately became alert when he heard this.
He reached behind him, but didn't find the pistol hidden there.
Instead, he touched cold scales. He took his hand out and saw that his arm was wrapped by a patterned snake.
In an instant, he seemed to return to his childhood, in a discarded concrete pipe, where he encountered that cobra.
The shadow of his childhood attacked him, making him let out a terrified scream.
Immediately after, the bodies of the three people in front of him turned into snakes, surging towards him.
This Mexican employee accidentally slipped, his face full of terror.
He scrambled back, trying to get away.
He touched a stool, wanting to lift it for a sense of security.
But after picking it up, he realized something was wrong. The high stool felt cold and scaly.
Looking up, he was holding a thick, strong snake in his hand.
The snake opened its mouth eerily and asked, "Who told you to bomb that car?"
Snakes filled the shop, overwhelming the employee. He was almost buried.
He shouted, "It was Simon!"
The snakes stopped surging towards him. The large snake continued to speak in human language, "Who is he?"
"A boss in Hell's Kitchen. He found me this morning, gave me some money, and told me to plant a bomb in a car."
The employee begged, "I had to do it, otherwise he wouldn't let me go."
"But I see you enjoying it." The large snake's black eyes seemed to see through people's hearts, "Just like every time you bomb someone to Death, you carve a mark on the coat rack at home."
The employee became more and more scared when he heard this.
"Let me count how many you've killed, thirteen. That's not a lucky number. Adding today's, you have a great sense of accomplishment."
"No, it's not like that." The employee wanted to argue.
But the snakes had already completely engulfed him.
"Don't be afraid, I don't eat people."
Mr. John said softly in front of the bald man, although the joke wasn't funny.
If he wasn't currently pulling out a bloody pencil, it might have made people feel refreshed.
The bald man was so scared he could only nod, his mind blank, feeling like he would die the next second.
Actually, it wasn't the pain that was unbearable; in that instant, fear was ignited by pain, creating a hundredfold fear in his mind.
The bald man's limbs were useless now; even if he wanted to escape, his legs were weak.
That pencil seemed very long, but in reality, it wasn't.
As the pencil tip detached from his palm, bringing droplets of blood that shattered on the ground, the bald man slumped there.
Handing the still-dripping pencil to May, Mr. John thoughtfully reminded her, "Wash it, and it can still be used."
"Okay." May used two fingers, both scared and careful, to pinch the end that wasn't stained with blood.
She decided that this pencil must be thrown away.
Peter was already stunned.
This scene caused a shock to his young mind no less than a nuclear bomb explosion.
It was like someone suddenly told him that in the future, he would be someone who shoots white sticky stuff all over the walls.
Mr. John, however, looked accustomed to it, smiling, and gently explained to May, "Actually, I'm not usually like this. I just had a small surgery before that made me a little unusual."
May was now a bit suspicious, wondering if Mr. John might have escaped from a mental hospital.
But it wasn't good to say it directly now, after all, Mr. John had also helped her.
Mr. John kicked the bald man, telling him to roll away from the car.
The car, just driven out of Dad's garage, now had an extra hole. Mr. John thought it wasn't a big problem, probably just needed repairs.
No big deal, Mr. John opened the car door, ready to leave. Before he left, he said to the little boy Peter, who was full of admiration, "Study hard, you'll find that knowledge is a very useful thing."
"That's so cool, how did you do that just now?"
Peter quickly asked about that move just now. Mr. John didn't hide it, "As long as you have enough speed, even paper can cut through wood."
"Also, one question, is Invisible Beast bread really that delicious?"
Little Peter asked in confusion, "What is an Invisible Beast?"
Mr. John pointed to the bread he had eaten half of, "This guy is an Invisible Beast."
"That's awesome, especially the jam inside." Peter didn't spare his praise.
"I think the Invisible Beast would be very happy to know it's so popular."
Waving his hand, Mr. John started the sports car.
"Boom!"
Fire and explosion instantly engulfed him.
The explosion swept up the two people on the street corner.
...
Death did not come.
May subconsciously hugged Peter, using her body to shield him, the flames burning their skin.
May screamed out, she instinctively closed her eyes.
But strangely, although the flames had burned them, there was no pain.
Just some warm feeling.
Like the warm air from a hairdryer, it wouldn't cause burns.
May screamed for a long time, until Peter couldn't stand the suffocating love and patted May's arm with his hand.
May, who had reacted, opened her eyes and saw that she was completely unharmed.
The leaking gasoline accelerated the burning, reducing the car to a frame.
But the person inside had vanished.
Mr. John, who should have been in the car, was standing next to the two people at some point, holding a wand, his face calm.
"Getting used to the Magic World, these attacks from Muggles are quite sudden."
He looked at the car.
Well, no need to repair it, it's a total loss.
It was probably rigged with a bomb when he bought the bread.
Hope this wasn't Dad's favorite one.
The impact and fragments of the explosion were blocked by his Iron Shield Charm, and the flames were prevented from burning by the Freezing Charm.
The moment he was sitting in the car, about to start it, he sensed something was wrong and used Apparition to get outside.
At the same time, he protected the two people who were caught in the blast.
It's just that the bakery was a bit miserable, all the glass was shattered.
The chubby store manager ran out, staring dumbfounded at the exploding luxury car.
Mr. John walked up to the manager, casually pulled out a business card with writing appearing on it, and handed it to him.
"I'm very sorry, but after you calculate the losses, you can call the number on this card, and someone will come to fix everything for you."
The store owner took the business card blankly, still not having recovered, "Silver Hand Fashion Architecture?"
This was a name he had never heard before. He looked up.
Mr. John and the other two had disappeared.
The chubby store owner scratched his head and looked back at the bakery.
An unexpected disaster.
...
May didn't know how she ended up on another street, and neither did Peter.
She looked down and saw that her hand was being held by Mr. John.
She quickly let go of his hand.
Mr. John apologized, "Sorry for getting you involved in this."
"Who exactly are you?" May demanded.
"John Wick. As for who exactly, you don't need to remember."
Looking at the guy sneaking into the crowd, Mr. John said casually, "Originally, I should have sent you back, but now I need to follow someone, so I need you to follow me temporarily."
May hesitated, because Mr. John had saved her. It was hard for her to suddenly decide that this person was bad.
Mr. John originally wanted to send them back and use a Memory Charm to erase their memories, but he found the person who had planted the bomb in his car.
In order to find the Ten Rings who had attacked his family, Mr. John had to temporarily give up the idea of erasing the memories of the two.
"We need to change our disguise."
Mr. John waved his wand, and the clothes on Aunt May's body turned into a set of urban office white-collar lady attire. Peter's clothes were changed to red and blue colors.
He changed into a black casual outfit for himself.
This move of his left the two of them speechless.
"Is this magic?" Peter kept touching his clothes, wanting to know how this outfit got on him.
It was just like a fairy godmother.
"This is the best magic." Mr. John smiled slightly, admitting it without modesty.
This was genuine Magic.
He saw that guy walking towards another street.
Taking the big and the small, Mr. John followed.
May was caught up in it, and for some reason, she was even a little excited.
"Are you an Agent? 007?"
She and Peter were like curious babies, asking questions in Mr. John's ear.
"Are you talking about the one from MI6? Unfortunately, I am not."
Mr. John followed the guy who planted the bomb. He did know people from MI6.
After wandering around, they arrived at a fried chicken shop.
That guy had just finished bombing someone's car, and then came to the fried chicken shop to change clothes and sell fried chicken.
They're both frying, do you really not distinguish between people and chickens?
"Then you're a magician?" Mr. John observed the other person from across the street.
Curious baby Peter asked, "Then you must be very famous in New York."
"I don't mind people thinking that, but in reality, I'm not, and I only arrived in this city yesterday." Mr. John invited May, "Want some fried chicken?"
May tucked her hair behind her ear, shrugged like Mr. John, and said, "I don't mind."
"Then let's get a fried chicken."
The three people walked across the busy street, came to the fried chicken shop, and pushed open the door.
"Welcome."
The car-bombing employee looked up, seemingly not recognizing the three people.
Perhaps in his subconscious, the three people were already dead, or perhaps he didn't even know the people he bombed.
Mr. John glanced at the menu and said, "We'll have three fried chicken legs, and a portion of fried chicken pieces. Oh, and I also need a super-size fries."
"I think our Mr. Peter will love it."
"Don't buy him that," May objected, "That's too much."
"It's okay, that's how it is when you're growing."
The two of them talked like a married couple discussing their child, although the woman seemed more mature.
The employee smiled knowingly and asked the customers to wait a moment.
Mr. John came and sat by the window, with May and Peter sitting across from him.
"There's a million dollars under your butt," Mr. John suddenly said to May.
May was startled, thinking it was a vulgar joke, and let out a dry laugh, "That joke is a bit stale."
Mr. John also laughed, "I guess that's his reward for killing three people, but hiding it under the chair is quite unusual."
Seeing that he didn't seem to be joking, May reached down and felt the chair.
Sure enough, there were some uneven places, looking like the imprint of stacked banknotes.
Was there really a million dollars under this butt?
Mr. John's words also made her alert. She discreetly glanced at the fried chicken employee, lowered her voice, and leaned closer to Mr. John, saying, "What should we do? Call the police?"
"The police are useful, but not omnipotent." Mr. John saw the employee preparing the fried chicken, and he said casually, "I'll handle it."
"How are you going to do that?" May asked in surprise.
The employee brought over the fried chicken. Mr. John turned his head to look at him.
His red-brown eyes had turned black at some point. The employee, completely unprepared, met the gaze of those eyes.
"Tell me, who told you to bomb that car?"
"What?"
The employee immediately became alert when he heard this.
He reached behind him, but didn't find the pistol hidden there.
Instead, he touched cold scales. He took his hand out and saw that his arm was wrapped by a patterned snake.
In an instant, he seemed to return to his childhood, in a discarded concrete pipe, where he encountered that cobra.
The shadow of his childhood attacked him, making him let out a terrified scream.
Immediately after, the bodies of the three people in front of him turned into snakes, surging towards him.
This Mexican employee accidentally slipped, his face full of terror.
He scrambled back, trying to get away.
He touched a stool, wanting to lift it for a sense of security.
But after picking it up, he realized something was wrong. The high stool felt cold and scaly.
Looking up, he was holding a thick, strong snake in his hand.
The snake opened its mouth eerily and asked, "Who told you to bomb that car?"
Snakes filled the shop, overwhelming the employee. He was almost buried.
He shouted, "It was Simon!"
The snakes stopped surging towards him. The large snake continued to speak in human language, "Who is he?"
"A boss in Hell's Kitchen. He found me this morning, gave me some money, and told me to plant a bomb in a car."
The employee begged, "I had to do it, otherwise he wouldn't let me go."
"But I see you enjoying it." The large snake's black eyes seemed to see through people's hearts, "Just like every time you bomb someone to Death, you carve a mark on the coat rack at home."
The employee became more and more scared when he heard this.
"Let me count how many you've killed, thirteen. That's not a lucky number. Adding today's, you have a great sense of accomplishment."
"No, it's not like that." The employee wanted to argue.
But the snakes had already completely engulfed him.
"Don't be afraid, I don't eat people."
Mr. John said softly in front of the bald man, although the joke wasn't funny.
If he wasn't currently pulling out a bloody pencil, it might have made people feel refreshed.
The bald man was so scared he could only nod, his mind blank, feeling like he would die the next second.
Actually, it wasn't the pain that was unbearable; in that instant, fear was ignited by pain, creating a hundredfold fear in his mind.
The bald man's limbs were useless now; even if he wanted to escape, his legs were weak.
That pencil seemed very long, but in reality, it wasn't.
As the pencil tip detached from his palm, bringing droplets of blood that shattered on the ground, the bald man slumped there.
Handing the still-dripping pencil to May, Mr. John thoughtfully reminded her, "Wash it, and it can still be used."
"Okay." May used two fingers, both scared and careful, to pinch the end that wasn't stained with blood.
She decided that this pencil must be thrown away.
Peter was already stunned.
This scene caused a shock to his young mind no less than a nuclear bomb explosion.
It was like someone suddenly told him that in the future, he would be someone who shoots white sticky stuff all over the walls.
Mr. John, however, looked accustomed to it, smiling, and gently explained to May, "Actually, I'm not usually like this. I just had a small surgery before that made me a little unusual."
May was now a bit suspicious, wondering if Mr. John might have escaped from a mental hospital.
But it wasn't good to say it directly now, after all, Mr. John had also helped her.
Mr. John kicked the bald man, telling him to roll away from the car.
The car, just driven out of Dad's garage, now had an extra hole. Mr. John thought it wasn't a big problem, probably just needed repairs.
No big deal, Mr. John opened the car door, ready to leave. Before he left, he said to the little boy Peter, who was full of admiration, "Study hard, you'll find that knowledge is a very useful thing."
"That's so cool, how did you do that just now?"
Peter quickly asked about that move just now. Mr. John didn't hide it, "As long as you have enough speed, even paper can cut through wood."
"Also, one question, is Invisible Beast bread really that delicious?"
Little Peter asked in confusion, "What is an Invisible Beast?"
Mr. John pointed to the bread he had eaten half of, "This guy is an Invisible Beast."
"That's awesome, especially the jam inside." Peter didn't spare his praise.
"I think the Invisible Beast would be very happy to know it's so popular."
Waving his hand, Mr. John started the sports car.
"Boom!"
Fire and explosion instantly engulfed him.
The explosion swept up the two people on the street corner.
...
Death did not come.
May subconsciously hugged Peter, using her body to shield him, the flames burning their skin.
May screamed out, she instinctively closed her eyes.
But strangely, although the flames had burned them, there was no pain.
Just some warm feeling.
Like the warm air from a hairdryer, it wouldn't cause burns.
May screamed for a long time, until Peter couldn't stand the suffocating love and patted May's arm with his hand.
May, who had reacted, opened her eyes and saw that she was completely unharmed.
The leaking gasoline accelerated the burning, reducing the car to a frame.
But the person inside had vanished.
Mr. John, who should have been in the car, was standing next to the two people at some point, holding a wand, his face calm.
"Getting used to the Magic World, these attacks from Muggles are quite sudden."
He looked at the car.
Well, no need to repair it, it's a total loss.
It was probably rigged with a bomb when he bought the bread.
Hope this wasn't Dad's favorite one.
The impact and fragments of the explosion were blocked by his Iron Shield Charm, and the flames were prevented from burning by the Freezing Charm.
The moment he was sitting in the car, about to start it, he sensed something was wrong and used Apparition to get outside.
At the same time, he protected the two people who were caught in the blast.
It's just that the bakery was a bit miserable, all the glass was shattered.
The chubby store manager ran out, staring dumbfounded at the exploding luxury car.
Mr. John walked up to the manager, casually pulled out a business card with writing appearing on it, and handed it to him.
"I'm very sorry, but after you calculate the losses, you can call the number on this card, and someone will come to fix everything for you."
The store owner took the business card blankly, still not having recovered, "Silver Hand Fashion Architecture?"
This was a name he had never heard before. He looked up.
Mr. John and the other two had disappeared.
The chubby store owner scratched his head and looked back at the bakery.
An unexpected disaster.
...
May didn't know how she ended up on another street, and neither did Peter.
She looked down and saw that her hand was being held by Mr. John.
She quickly let go of his hand.
Mr. John apologized, "Sorry for getting you involved in this."
"Who exactly are you?" May demanded.
"John Wick. As for who exactly, you don't need to remember."
Looking at the guy sneaking into the crowd, Mr. John said casually, "Originally, I should have sent you back, but now I need to follow someone, so I need you to follow me temporarily."
May hesitated, because Mr. John had saved her. It was hard for her to suddenly decide that this person was bad.
Mr. John originally wanted to send them back and use a Memory Charm to erase their memories, but he found the person who had planted the bomb in his car.
In order to find the Ten Rings who had attacked his family, Mr. John had to temporarily give up the idea of erasing the memories of the two.
"We need to change our disguise."
Mr. John waved his wand, and the clothes on Aunt May's body turned into a set of urban office white-collar lady attire. Peter's clothes were changed to red and blue colors.
He changed into a black casual outfit for himself.
This move of his left the two of them speechless.
"Is this magic?" Peter kept touching his clothes, wanting to know how this outfit got on him.
It was just like a fairy godmother.
"This is the best magic." Mr. John smiled slightly, admitting it without modesty.
This was genuine Magic.
He saw that guy walking towards another street.
Taking the big and the small, Mr. John followed.
May was caught up in it, and for some reason, she was even a little excited.
"Are you an Agent? 007?"
She and Peter were like curious babies, asking questions in Mr. John's ear.
"Are you talking about the one from MI6? Unfortunately, I am not."
Mr. John followed the guy who planted the bomb. He did know people from MI6.
After wandering around, they arrived at a fried chicken shop.
That guy had just finished bombing someone's car, and then came to the fried chicken shop to change clothes and sell fried chicken.
They're both frying, do you really not distinguish between people and chickens?
"Then you're a magician?" Mr. John observed the other person from across the street.
Curious baby Peter asked, "Then you must be very famous in New York."
"I don't mind people thinking that, but in reality, I'm not, and I only arrived in this city yesterday." Mr. John invited May, "Want some fried chicken?"
May tucked her hair behind her ear, shrugged like Mr. John, and said, "I don't mind."
"Then let's get a fried chicken."
The three people walked across the busy street, came to the fried chicken shop, and pushed open the door.
"Welcome."
The car-bombing employee looked up, seemingly not recognizing the three people.
Perhaps in his subconscious, the three people were already dead, or perhaps he didn't even know the people he bombed.
Mr. John glanced at the menu and said, "We'll have three fried chicken legs, and a portion of fried chicken pieces. Oh, and I also need a super-size fries."
"I think our Mr. Peter will love it."
"Don't buy him that," May objected, "That's too much."
"It's okay, that's how it is when you're growing."
The two of them talked like a married couple discussing their child, although the woman seemed more mature.
The employee smiled knowingly and asked the customers to wait a moment.
Mr. John came and sat by the window, with May and Peter sitting across from him.
"There's a million dollars under your butt," Mr. John suddenly said to May.
May was startled, thinking it was a vulgar joke, and let out a dry laugh, "That joke is a bit stale."
Mr. John also laughed, "I guess that's his reward for killing three people, but hiding it under the chair is quite unusual."
Seeing that he didn't seem to be joking, May reached down and felt the chair.
Sure enough, there were some uneven places, looking like the imprint of stacked banknotes.
Was there really a million dollars under this butt?
Mr. John's words also made her alert. She discreetly glanced at the fried chicken employee, lowered her voice, and leaned closer to Mr. John, saying, "What should we do? Call the police?"
"The police are useful, but not omnipotent." Mr. John saw the employee preparing the fried chicken, and he said casually, "I'll handle it."
"How are you going to do that?" May asked in surprise.
The employee brought over the fried chicken. Mr. John turned his head to look at him.
His red-brown eyes had turned black at some point. The employee, completely unprepared, met the gaze of those eyes.
"Tell me, who told you to bomb that car?"
"What?"
The employee immediately became alert when he heard this.
He reached behind him, but didn't find the pistol hidden there.
Instead, he touched cold scales. He took his hand out and saw that his arm was wrapped by a patterned snake.
In an instant, he seemed to return to his childhood, in a discarded concrete pipe, where he encountered that cobra.
The shadow of his childhood attacked him, making him let out a terrified scream.
Immediately after, the bodies of the three people in front of him turned into snakes, surging towards him.
This Mexican employee accidentally slipped, his face full of terror.
He scrambled back, trying to get away.
He touched a stool, wanting to lift it for a sense of security.
But after picking it up, he realized something was wrong. The high stool felt cold and scaly.
Looking up, he was holding a thick, strong snake in his hand.
The snake opened its mouth eerily and asked, "Who told you to bomb that car?"
Snakes filled the shop, overwhelming the employee. He was almost buried.
He shouted, "It was Simon!"
The snakes stopped surging towards him. The large snake continued to speak in human language, "Who is he?"
"A boss in Hell's Kitchen. He found me this morning, gave me some money, and told me to plant a bomb in a car."
The employee begged, "I had to do it, otherwise he wouldn't let me go."
"But I see you enjoying it." The large snake's black eyes seemed to see through people's hearts, "Just like every time you bomb someone to Death, you carve a mark on the coat rack at home."
The employee became more and more scared when he heard this.
"Let me count how many you've killed, thirteen. That's not a lucky number. Adding today's, you have a great sense of accomplishment."
"No, it's not like that." The employee wanted to argue.
But the snakes had already completely engulfed him.