The charm of spicy hot pot lies in the fact that even though it makes you pant from the spiciness, you can't bear to stop eating.
Spiciness is not a taste, but a pain.
Pain is addictive!
So, the love for spicy food and being a masochist are actually based on the same principle.
Anyway.
Mike chose to "hide" in the Big Foot Gang's warehouse. The Big Foot Gang case was still open, and after the police collected evidence, they just sealed it off and left it alone. There were still white lines on the ground marking the positions and poses of the bodies.
Mike didn't know when the Vampires would come knocking, so he simply moved his hot pot gear over, showing no signs of tension before a major battle.
Mike glanced at Blade and asked, "How did you find this place?"
Blade didn't answer Mike's question, but instead retorted, "You know me?"
"Of course."
Mike replied, "Since I've chosen to go against Vampires, I naturally need to gather relevant information. You're quite infamous among the Vampires. Should I call you 'Blade' or 'Daywalker'?"
"Daywalker, I prefer that name." Blade actually thought about it seriously for a moment.
"Alright, Blade." Mike used an old joke again, "Please make yourself at home. Want some food?"
Blade was half-human, half-Vampire, inherently lacking desire for human delicacies. Moreover, the bubbling red soup in the pot, was that really food, or some kind of chemical weapon?
"No, I'll pass."
Blade decisively refused, "But, aren't you worried at all?"
"Is worrying useful?"
"No."
"Then that's that."
"But..."
"No 'buts,' Blade."
Mike interrupted Blade, "You have too many questions. Out of politeness, you should answer mine first."
"Vampires are my prey, and you are the Vampires' prey. So..."
"The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it?"
"Sorry, but—yes. As for how I found you... I caught one of Deacon Frost's subordinates. I'm quite experienced in 'communicating' with Vampires, and Deacon's subordinates aren't tough at all. A little 'reasoning' and he'll tell you everything you want to know." Blade glanced outside the warehouse, "If nothing goes wrong, Deacon and his subordinates will surround this place within fifteen minutes. So if you want to leave, now's still the time."
He talked a bit much, which didn't fit Mike's impression of Blade. But he was here to deliver a message and save him, so what's wrong with saying a few extra words?
Goodwill +1.
"Twenty minutes." Mike said out of the blue.
"What?" Blade was completely confused.
"I mean, the Vampires will take at least twenty minutes to get here." Mike explained with a smile, "This is Hell's Kitchen, a place of chaos. Are Vampires so great? Rushing into someone else's territory so aggressively, don't the other gangs have any face?"
Either fight, or communicate.
Mike guessed it was the latter.
The Vampires setting up their factory in Hell's Kitchen indicated either cooperation or some kind of agreement with the local gangs.
Regardless of the former or latter, it would take time.
"Hahaha, interesting..." Mike burst into laughter.
Damn Hell's Kitchen.
Blade: (⊙︿⊙), things weren't going as he expected.
First, the prey being hunted by Vampires was casually eating spicy hot pot in the warehouse.
Then, the prey showed no fear whatsoever.
This made Blade think of a possibility, his gaze burning under his sunglasses.
Mike seemed to guess what Blade was thinking and said, "That's right, I leaked the information myself. It's not certain who the hunter and who the prey is yet. Seriously, don't you want some? Authentic Celestial Empire spicy hot pot..."
Mike didn't forget to recommend Celestial Empire cuisine.
Blade: "..."
Watching the boiling red soup, for a moment, he actually had the thought of whether he should try it.
"That's a terrible thought."
Blade decided to divert his attention and spotted two swords leaning against the sofa.
"Are these your weapons?"
Two silver samurai swords, sponsored by Fat Jerry, plus the nichirin blade in his system space, made exactly three.
"Yes." Mike said, "I'm a Three-Sword Style swordsman."
Blade: [?_??]
Three-Sword Style swordsman?
First time he'd heard of it.
And there were only two swords, where did the 'Three-Sword Style' come from?
Blade was silent for two seconds, then changed his original plan and said, "I can stay and help."
"No, no, please, no need!"
Mike quickly refused Blade's offer.
The commission to rescue Lisa was over. Dealing with Deacon was Mike's out-of-pocket after-sales service—although Fat Jerry's cunning operation prevented Mike from losing money, even allowing him to make a small profit.
But it was good to use the Possession Card to gain some experience along the way.
Blade didn't know if Mike was confident or arrogant, but he was never the kind of superhero who would say, "I'm doing this for your own good, you can't refuse my help."
He looked deeply at Mike and said, "I hope you survive." Then he left the warehouse.
His words still indicated he didn't think highly of Mike.
Having hunted Deacon for many years, Blade understood Deacon quite well. Deacon's combat skills were only decent, but he was very cunning and rarely showed himself publicly. In battle, he would always send his subordinates first, then use his advantage to talk trash and launch sneak attacks from behind, and immediately flee if things went wrong, selling out his subordinates without batting an eye.
Blade didn't leave after exiting the warehouse; instead, he hid in the shadows as planned.
More than twenty minutes later, several cars sped into the dock area, braking sharply outside the warehouse, tires screeching against the ground, leaving long marks.
Mike glanced outside and calmly took out two cards: "Use cards."
Fifty-odd Vampires got out of the cars, giving off a sense of triad members gathering. Deacon Frost, in his suit and leather shoes, stood forward, the image of a Causeway Bay boss vividly alive.
Deacon waved his hand, and the Vampires behind him flanked the warehouse from both sides, while the remaining seven or eight followed him, leisurely entering the warehouse.
The moment he saw Mike, Deacon remembered the portrait puzzle Sansa had made, and he just wanted to curse: Is this really the same person?
He only regretted that Sansa was dead and he couldn't kill her again.
However, Deacon instantly confirmed that it was the right person.
Mike's eyes showed no fear, only a hint of an inexplicable playful amusement. This irritated and angered Deacon—
Human, why aren't you afraid!
You should be afraid!
You must be afraid!
Then grovel at the feet of the noble bloodline and beg for mercy.
"Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me. You shouldn't have come..."
"Kill him!"
Deacon ordered sharply, forgetting his idea of capturing Mike and slowly tormenting him.
"Tsk."
Mike still wanted to use a Gu Long reference, but they didn't cooperate. Bad review!
Four Vampires pounced on Mike from four directions.
Swish!
Two silver samurai swords were unsheathed.
Sword light flashed, drawing two arcs, effortlessly cutting the four Vampires into black ash.
Mike smiled: "Come one, kill one; come two, kill a pair; come four, kill two squared..."
Deacon didn't give Mike a chance to boast. He took a submachine gun from a subordinate and fired wildly at Mike.
Mike closed his eyes, using Observation Haki to sense, then suddenly opened his eyes.
In that instant, Deacon felt as if he was being stared at by a magnificent tiger, and he was the trembling little white rabbit under the tiger's gaze.
Mike held a sword in each hand, dancing them in front of him impenetrably, cutting all the bullets in half.
Clink, clink, clink...
"How is that possible!"
Deacon was dumbfounded.
So, the question is, can Blade cut bullets with his sword?
Answer: No!
But Blade, who couldn't cut bullets with his sword, still hunted Vampires alone.
Deacon understood that it was time for a strategic retreat and to sell out his subordinates.