Mike leisurely walked out of the bar.
The guards were stunned when they saw Mike.
Didn't this person just go in?
The two instinctively felt something was wrong, so they moved closer, wanting to question Mike.
Mike didn't waste any words, quickly took two steps, and knocked out the guards with two punches.
The commotion here attracted the attention of the Vampire thugs in the corner. They exchanged glances, then spread out, surrounding him from different directions.
Mike's eyes narrowed, and he took out his nichirin blade from his system space.
Thrust!
Upward Slash!
Full Moon Slash!
Sheathe!
All in one fluid motion!
Several Vampires hadn't even figured out what was happening when they felt a burning pain like fire on their bodies, screaming as they turned to ash.
After walking a few steps, Mike returned to one of the guards and pulled a small roll of banknotes from his pocket—it was the money he had "bribed" them with earlier.
According to Mei, the Vampire factory was in the Hell's Kitchen dock area, on the west bank of the Hudson River.
"Forget about the various gangs, even Vampires are joining the fun. They're not leaving any room for ordinary people in Hell's Kitchen to live."
Mike sighed as he turned the car key to start it. The headlights illuminated a path in the dense darkness, and soon, the red taillights disappeared at the end of the street.
Natasha looked at the timer: "Twelve minutes and fifty-six seconds. He couldn't have just driven around and done nothing, could he?"
"I don't know." Coulson wasn't sure either.
"Forget it, I'll go in and see."
"I'm the Commander, aren't I?"
"Mm-hmm?" Natasha gave Coulson a sidelong glance, a half-smile on her face, making her look even more charming.
Coulson paused, then said, "Uh... I mean, be careful. Safety is the most important."
"Understood, Commander..." Natasha smiled, swaying her snake-like waist.
A Level Seven Agent openly threatening a Level Eight Agent with her eyes...
It's infuriating!
Three minutes later, Natasha walked out quickly.
"How was it?" Coulson's expression was normal.
"All Vampires eliminated, the monitoring room destroyed, the bartender's heart pierced by a toothpick, and a female passed out in the private room, all Ghoul Clan." Natasha frowned, "The bartender was a witness, killing him was to silence him. The female was a Ghoul Clan member who helped the Vampires lure Mike; she was also a witness, so why did he show mercy?"
Coulson asked, "Is she pretty?"
Natasha replied, "Pretty."
Could it be that beauty clouded his judgment?
Coulson and Natasha exchanged glances; there was no disappointment in their eyes towards Mike, but rather a hint of joy.
Having a weakness is good!
This is the difference in logical thinking between Agents and ordinary people.
Coulson started the car and drove towards Hell's Kitchen.
Natasha suddenly said, "How can a regular toothpick pierce someone's heart?"
Coulson said, "Perfectly avoiding bones and muscles?"
The problem is, the human heart itself is a dense muscle.
If Mike were to answer, the answer would be five words: "Armament Haki."
In any case, Natasha's eyes grew brighter and brighter, as if she had found a new toy.
Coulson inexplicably shivered.
It was late at night.
The weather turned cold.
He touched his strategically receding hairline and sighed, "Middle-aged men who stay up late can't afford it."
The Vampire factory was disguised as a meat processing company, looking quite normal from the outside.
The patrolling security guards were Vampires. Mike dealt with them one by one with his blade, successfully entering the factory area without alerting any Vampires.
The scene before Mike's eyes made his hair stand on end.
Above the factory area were parallel thick steel pipes. The pipes were connected to dangling chains, which were wrapped with power and data cables. At the end of each chain was a large hook, holding a square instrument and a large transparent bag.
The instruments were for monitoring vital signs.
Inside each bag, a human was curled up, all completely naked, with tubes inserted into their mouths and noses, absorbing nutrient solution to survive, and tubes in their hands, slowly drawing out red blood.
This is why Vampires call such places factories or farms.
Here, humans are the raw material for producing blood, the livestock from which blood is extracted.
As a fellow human, a chill ran from Mike's feet to the top of his head.
The people in the bags had been injected with sedatives; some had their eyes open, their gaze dead, as if they had lost their souls.
"Phew~"
Mike stuck his nichirin blade into the ground, took out his cigarette pack, and the flame of his lighter was so conspicuous.
"Who's there!"
The Vampire workers in the factory discovered Mike, shouting as they surrounded him.
"Phew~~~"
Exhaling a cloud of White smoke, Mike murmured to himself, "Oh dear, I've been discovered. Well, nothing can be done about it then."
Pulling out his nichirin blade, Mike's eyes were as cold as the dead of winter.
Soon, everything returned to silence, with only black ash drifting in the night.
Mike walked further inside, holding his nichirin blade.
One thing Mike never expected was that the factory manager was a human in a White coat. He sat on the ground in terror, saying, "Don't kill me, don't kill me, I'm human, don't kill me."
"A human, huh... Don't be afraid, I won't kill you."
Mike took out Lisa's photo and asked, "Is this girl here? She was brought in about two weeks ago."
The man in the White coat looked at the photo and said, "I have some impression. Let me check."
He typed a few times on the keyboard, listing several records, and Lisa was among them.
Based on the number, Mike quickly found Lisa.
The girl was curled up in the bag, unconscious. Mike asked, "Will there be any danger if I just take her out of the bag?"
The man in the White coat quickly replied, "No, no, she's only been here for two weeks."
"Oh, then there's nothing else. You can go now." Mike said faintly, "Actually, I'll give you a ride."
The nichirin blade pierced the man in the White coat's heart.
"A one-way ticket to hell, free!" Mike sneered, "You're human, yet you do such things. You deserve to die even more! I lied to you, you scum! Come out of hell and bite me if you dare, tui!"
A few minutes later, Mike, bare-chested, carefully carried Lisa out of the factory area. His T-shirt covered Lisa.
Mike didn't leave immediately. Instead, he walked to a car not far away, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and knocked on the car window.
The window rolled down, revealing Coulson's slightly awkward face.
"Mike, what a coincidence." Coulson greeted him.
"Yeah, quite a coincidence. A chance encounter at Blood Thorns, and now here. You guys are truly everywhere." Mike said sarcastically, pointing at the factory, "The rest is up to you. No problem, right?"
Coulson said, "No problem."
He gave a few instructions into his walkie-talkie, and a team of Agents emerged from the rear van, fully armed, and advanced towards the factory.
Mike said, "I'm not interested in S.H.I.E.L.D. Stop playing those tracking and surveillance games."
S.H.I.E.L.D.?
More like Hydra!
Coulson gave a stiff smile.
Mike drove Lisa back to her home in the Upper East Side. The Banks couple cried tears of joy and were extremely grateful to Mike. Mrs. Banks once again contributed soul energy +1.
It was already late at night when he got home.
Staying up late is not good... so might as well stay up all night.
He opened his phone.
He prioritized replying to messages from a few female friends; after all, they had had deep conversations, so special treatment wasn't excessive.
Then he saw Fat Jerry's resentful message: [Why didn't you order from me? Do you have another supplier outside?]
Mike patiently replied with one word: [Scram!]
Blood Thorns was cleared out.
Deacon Frost's face was grim. His entire nest of subordinates had been wiped out, including his girlfriend. How could he be happy?
The only one who knew exactly what happened in the private room was Sansa. After getting a clear account of the events and a sketch of Mike, a furious Deacon grabbed Sansa, gnawing at her neck until blood and flesh flew.
"One by one... How dare these inferior races!"
Deacon casually tossed the dead Sansa aside, pointed at Mike's portrait, and said to his confidant, Quinn, "Three days. Find him at all costs."
New York has a population of seven to eight million. Finding someone with just a portrait?
How is that different from looking for a needle in a haystack?
However, facing the enraged Deacon, did Quinn dare to say "no"?