Hawk wasn't making an excuse to leave.
He genuinely had something to do.
Someone had just sent Hawk a text message, and it wasn't from his handler John Smith, nor was it from his Killer King agent Yekaterina.
This message was from his weapons supplier.
YMFSL!
Most people, if they saw these five letters, would just think it was a jumbled mess.
But the meaning of this phrase was as follows:
Trouble, come quickly!
It was the first letter pinyin of an East Country phrase.
"Vroom!"
Hawk drove his car quickly and safely through the traffic, rapidly approaching the address of his East Country weapons supplier.
Among his many diverse skills, marksmanship was undoubtedly number one, followed by French, and then driving skills.
After all, being a good driver was also very marketable among many targets.
Hawk's Chinese arms dealer was named Chen.
His full name was unknown.
Just as Chen didn't know that Killer King was Hawk, Hawk's weapons, firearms, and ammunition had all been supplied by Chen over the years.
It could be said that, putting aside Hawk's true identity, this arms dealer Chen was one of Killer King's few good friends.
It was precisely because of this that the arms dealer Chen had Hawk's phone number.
He had another phone number, but when he was in school, Hawk would set up call and message forwarding and then put away the phone used for business contacts.
Soon.
Hawk parked his car by the roadside, then opened the trunk, pulled out a briefcase, and walked into a nearby alley.
When Hawk emerged from the alley, the briefcase in his hand was gone, and even his clothes had changed.
He was still wearing a suit.
But it wasn't the casual suit Hawk usually wore at school; it was one with a tie and sunglasses, a pricey watch on his left wrist, and a cup of coffee in his hand.
No choice.
It was mid-day, and it was working hours, so he couldn't drink alcohol; he could only drink coffee.
Hawk looked up at a seven-story, orange-colored, somewhat old apartment building across the street, took a sip of the coffee in his cup, and looked around like a tourist.
After a while.
Hawk lifted his foot and followed a middle-aged man who was heading home, walking one after the other into the apartment building in front of him.
Compared to the Star Tower on Fifth Avenue, the security of this apartment building in Brooklyn was simply terrible.
No.
There were no security personnel at all.
Hawk easily reached the fourth floor.
Upon entering.
The hallway was silent, and the six rooms on the fourth floor were all closed, very quiet, Hawk could even smell the faint scent of blood in the air.
Too late?
Hawk reached behind him, took out the suppressed beretta he had assembled in the alley, took a sip of the coffee in his left hand, and walked towards the room closer to the other side of the corridor.
As he got closer.
The scent of blood became more intense; just by smelling it, he could estimate that the person who caused this blood loss had lost a significant amount of blood.
Hawk arrived at the door, glancing at the crack in the room's door.
A Shadow flashed by.
The next second.
Hawk raised his gun.
"Puff!"
"Puff!"
"Puff!"
Three bullets instantly flew out, directly penetrating the door in front of him and blasting into the door in a triangular formation.
Thud.
A muffled sound came from behind the door, as if something heavy had fallen to the ground with a thud.
Hawk pushed the door open and entered.
Upon entering.
A man in a suit lay face down on the ground, with three prominent bullet holes in his back.
Splash!
The sound of washing hands came from the nearby bathroom.
Hawk took a sip of coffee and looked towards the bathroom where the sound was coming from.
After a while.
The bathroom door opened.
"Hmm?"
A man in a suit wearing blue-light glasses walked out of the bathroom, wiping his hands with a towel – though washed, they still smelled of blood – saw his colleague on the ground, then looked up at Hawk who appeared at the doorway, first stunned ed for a moment, then said with a seemingly surprised tone, "Killer King."
Hawk narrowed his eyes.
"Who are you?"
"Who I am isn't important."
"Is that so?"
The blue-light glasses man casually threw the towel aside, pushed up his glasses, and said with a chuckle to Hawk, "I put in a lot of effort and couldn't get your friend to tell me where you were. I thought I wouldn't see you so soon, but who would have thought."
As he spoke, the man walked to the door of the adjacent bedroom and opened it.
Instantly.
A strong smell of blood immediately wafted out from the adjacent bedroom.
Hawk looked into the adjacent bedroom, where a bruised and swollen, but still recognizably Asian, man had his hands tied, and his feet similarly bound, placed in a blood-red foot basin on the floor.
"Chen."
"Hmm, Chen."
The man nodded when he heard Hawk's words, as if he thought of something, and looked at Hawk: "This guy is really tough-mouthed. He's almost dead, but he still protected you so well."
Hawk smiled.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Have you ever considered a possibility?"
"What?"
"That is, Chen genuinely doesn't know who I am?"
"Is that so?"
The man with blue-light glasses paused slightly, saying, "I really hadn't thought of that," appearing very easy to talk to, then waved his hand: "But that's not important, what's important is that you're here."
When he said this, if one didn't consider the dying Chen in the adjacent bedroom and the corpse at Hawk's feet, such a dialogue would sound very much like a conversation between friends.
Hawk was the same.
"And then?"
Hawk, as if talking to a friend, looked curiously at the blue-light glasses man: "You wanted to find me, and now I'm here. So, will you release my friend?"
The blue-light glasses man took a miniature remote control from his pocket: "Are you talking about this?"
As he finished speaking.
The blue-light glasses man instantly pressed the switch on his hand.
The next second.
"Zzzzt! Zzzzt! Zzzzt!"
Chen, who was tied up in the adjacent bedroom, with his head down and looking on the verge of death, instantly threw his head back, then began to convulse non-stop, a puff of White smoke rising from the foot basin, his expression looking extremely painful.
Hawk narrowed his eyes.
"Electric shock."
"Hmm."
The blue-light glasses man nodded and sighed: "At first, I didn't think of this point, and I thought he was truly stubborn, so I had no choice but to use some small methods. What do you think of my methods, King?"
Hawk's lips curled slightly: "Excellent!"
...