Originally, Mike only wanted to rescue Chloe and then casually take some ill-gotten gains from the Big Foot Gang to compensate for the loss of his commission, which was why he chose Momochi Zabuza, who excels at stealth—because he is good at stealth.
But now…
Don't forget, Zabuza is also a master assassin proficient in the Silent Killing technique, which came in handy.
Crimson chakra overflowed from the enraged Mike.
In the air, a large amount of thick white mist appeared out of nowhere, rapidly spreading and filling the entire warehouse.
Ninja Art: Hiding in Mist Technique.
Sean Sack, nicknamed "Stinky Foot," was the leader of the Big Foot Gang, of Irish descent. Recently, he had hooked up with the Magenta, an Irish crime syndicate. In Hell's Kitchen, the Magenta syndicate could even be compared to New York's renowned Gucci family.
Now the Big Foot Gang had money, people, and guns. Sean, in the ascendant of his career, was ambitious.
At this moment, he was embracing and wantonly kneading a voluptuous Black woman until the eerie white mist diffused before his eyes.
"Damn it, what's going on? A smoke bomb? Cops!" Sean shoved the woman away, pulled out a famous AK47 from under the sofa, and roared, "Brothers, grab your weapons!"
The mist was so thick it couldn't be dispersed, and visibility was less than a meter. Sean recalled a circulating rumor: when thick fog pervades, the God of Death silently reaps lives.
Sean had once scoffed at it, believing it to be a rumor spread by other gangs to intimidate people.
"It's not real, it's not real…"
Sean kept repeating the same phrase, trying to hypnotize himself. He held his gun, his nerves highly strung.
"Hawk!"
Sean yelled a subordinate's name.
"I'm… Ah!"
"Ah!"
"Ah!"
Sean was answered by a series of short, sharp screams.
Finally, someone couldn't take it anymore, pulled the trigger, and fired wildly. It was like pressing a switch; gunshots erupted, bullets flew, and screams and shrieks filled the air.
"Damn it!"
Sean, who still had his wits about him, reacted quickly, diving behind the sofa and lying on the ground, curling his body as much as possible.
He didn't know how long it had been, perhaps a long time, perhaps brief, as if he had lost his sense of time. Sean heard the gunshots gradually cease, and the warehouse became eerily quiet, with faint, suppressed sobs audible.
Sean cautiously peered out from behind the sofa. The thick mist had not dispersed. Pearl was lying on the ground, a large pool of blood beneath her.
Sean suddenly stiffened.
He could feel someone standing behind him.
"I'm with Magenta. If you kill me, he won't let you off."
"I have cash, at least a hundred thousand U.S. dollars, in the safe. Only I can open it."
Sean's mind raced, stating the pros and cons concisely in two sentences, his words more articulate than ever before.
However…
Pfft!
A gleaming blade tip pierced out from his upper right abdomen.
Mike's cold voice rang out: "I've pierced your liver and severed a vein, which is why the blood flowing out is reddish-black. If you receive effective treatment within fifteen minutes, you can survive; otherwise, you'll bleed to death in extreme despair and agonizing torment. Considering how messed up Hell's Kitchen is because of you scumbags, can an ambulance really arrive within fifteen minutes? Heh heh…"
Pfft!
The blade was withdrawn from Sean's body.
Intense pain assaulted his brain, and Sean fell to his knees. He struggled to turn around but found nothing behind him.
The white mist gradually dissipated.
When leaving the warehouse, Mike was holding a little girl. The little girl's eyes were panicked, and her lips were tightly pressed together.
She was Chloe, whom Old Earl had spoken of, probably five or six years old, skinny as a rail, and so light in his arms that it made his heart ache.
Suddenly, Mike stopped, looking up at a rooftop several hundred meters away.
There was a person there, holding a modified Barrett M82 equipped with a military Night Vision scope.
Seeing Mike look over, Frank Castle, behind the scope, was startled.
He was discovered?
How sharp!
Mike's gaze did not linger on Frank but continued to turn to the adjacent building. There, a figure in a dark red bodysuit was hidden even deeper.
"Punisher is targeting the Big Foot Gang, and Daredevil seems to want to stop Punisher. One is a no-kill superhero, the other is an anti-hero who fights violence with violence—interesting…"
Mike smiled, then carried Chloe back to the supermarket.
"Who!"
Hearing a sound from the second floor, Old Earl raised his Remington, nervously eyeing the staircase.
"It's me."
Mike spoke up to prevent Old Earl from being overly nervous and accidentally firing.
Old Earl visibly relaxed, lowered his gun, and watched excitedly as Mike led Chloe downstairs.
"Chloe, poor little Chloe."
Old Earl put down his shotgun, knelt down, and gently hugged the little girl, tears streaming down his face.
"Grandpa Earle."
The little girl, who had been heartbreakingly well-behaved, buried her face in Old Earl's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
System notification: [Commission completed, Soul Energy +1].
Soul Energy once again floated from Old Earl's body, merging into Mike's chest.
Buzz!
Adding to his previous reserves, the accumulated Soul Energy reached ten units, transforming into a gray Soul Fruit with mysterious patterns.
"I wonder what it will open into? The Kubikiribocho would be great, it would go perfectly with Momochi Zabuza." Mike prayed silently.
Unfortunately, what the fruit produced, though based on his memory and cognition, was random.
Otherwise—
Wouldn't a Logia-type Ice-Ice Fruit be awesome, for early ice skating in the Pacific?
Or casually unleash a Chibaku Tensei to relieve stress, just ask if Fury would panic!
That scene was too beautiful to dwell on.
"There's milk and sandwiches in the fridge. Chloe has been hungry all day, eat something, but don't eat too much at once. I'm going out for a bit…"
Coming back to his senses, Mike suddenly had a thought.
A corner near the supermarket.
Daredevil, Matthew Murdock, looked at the supermarket sign, his expression complex.
He had originally been watching Punisher, wanting to stop him from going on a killing spree. He hadn't expected someone to strike at the Big Foot Gang before Frank, and with such high killing efficiency that the battle was over before he could react.
"You actually followed me here, that makes me unhappy."
Mike's voice sounded in Matthew's ear, startling the latter.
Matthew had gone blind in childhood due to radioactive materials, which greatly enhanced his other four senses.
Especially his Super Touch and Super Hearing.
Super Touch allowed him to have far superior balance, strength, and neural reactions than ordinary people. He could even perceive whether someone was approaching through changes in temperature and air pressure around him.
And Super Hearing could feed surrounding sound waves back to his brain, forming a special, omnidirectional "vision," much like a bat's echolocation.
Therefore, it was the first time someone had approached so closely without him noticing.
From a sensory perspective, Silent Killing was a natural counter to Matthew. If Mike wanted to kill Matthew, he would already be a dead man.
Matthew "saw" Mike less than two meters away from him, arms crossed, leaning against a street lamp, emanating an unfriendly aura.
"I'm sorry."
Matthew apologized frankly, then said in a deep voice, "Your goal was to save someone; you shouldn't have gone on a killing spree."
"You mean the Big Foot Gang shouldn't die?"
"No, every person in the Big Foot Gang deserves to die, but it shouldn't be you who judges them."
"Who then? The law or God?"
Mike chuckled, "I find it strange. The Big Foot Gang has been committing evil for a long time, and so many victims were ignored. But as soon as the Big Foot Gang dies, you immediately come to question my methods, what does that mean?"
"Forget it. Principles are not something that can be convinced in a few words; more talk is useless. I respect your 'no-kill' principle, and I hope you don't interfere with me."
"Otherwise, either call the police and let the Iron Fist of the law punish me, or we fight it out, and whoever's fist is harder gets to speak."
"What do you think, Matthew Murdock."
Finally, Mike revealed Daredevil's true identity.