Chapter 25: The Difference Between a Professional Assassin and a Cleanup Crew
David immediately realized these paramedics were all imposters.
If an assassin is exposed to public scrutiny, whether they complete the contract or not, their identity has been compromised.
This meant this assassin was marked for death.
But it also meant David still had a life to save here!
David suddenly reached out and grabbed the arm of one stretcher bearer.
The man flinched and instinctively reached for the blade concealed under his jacket.
But he quickly checked himself after a subtle cough from a colleague, remembering there were still dozens of witnesses present.
He suppressed his irritation and asked instead:
"Something wrong?"
David smiled:
"I've already stabilized him. He should regain consciousness shortly.
I think we should respect his wishes regarding hospital transport."
The imposter reflexively glanced around—they couldn't linger here much longer.
The real ambulance would arrive soon.
Their cover would be blown.
But before that, they had to eliminate this do-gooder.
With this thought, he first shot his partner a meaningful look, then lifted the stretcher again and started toward the fake ambulance.
Simultaneously, he spoke quickly:
"That's not your call. We need to transport him for a full trauma workup.
These kinds of... critical injuries can't be fixed with just a needle.
If you're concerned, you can ride along!"
Are they planning to silence me too?
Suddenly noticing the assassin's chest rising and falling, David's mouth curved slightly. He released the imposter's arm and stepped back several paces.
Sensing the resistance disappear, the imposter was wondering why David had stopped insisting when suddenly, his throat felt cold, and hot blood gushed from his neck. He reflexively clapped his hand to the wound but couldn't stanch the flow.
The stretcher clattered to the pavement.
With panic flooding his eyes, he weakly reached toward David, trying to get him to provide aid.
They were fake paramedics, but David wasn't!
But David just stood fifteen feet away, watching impassively, with no intention of intervening.
This caused the light in his eyes to rapidly fade, pupils dilating as he succumbed to exsanguination.
The other stretcher bearer suffered the same fate.
Suddenly, both carriers were dead.
This abrupt double homicide instantly triggered mass panic.
Screams erupted throughout the scene.
The crowd that had just been spectating now stampeded outward.
And the perpetrator behind it all was the awakened assassin!
The assassin's instincts had detected the stretcher bearers' killing intent, so the moment he regained consciousness, he grabbed glass shards still embedded in his clothing and cleanly slashed the throat of the man in front.
Then, while the man behind him was still processing what happened, he lunged forward and opened his throat too.
This sequence of movements was fluid and efficient, without hesitation, reversing the situation instantly. This was the difference between a true professional and mere cleanup crew!
The assassin's predatory gaze quickly swept toward David, who hadn't fled. His hand, gripping the blood-slicked glass shard, tightened, about to strike.
But before he could move, David identified himself first:
"Brother, you still owe me two gold coins."
Hearing this information, the wariness in the assassin's eyes lessened slightly.
Though excessive blood loss made his head feel fuzzy, he still remembered calling for emergency medical dispatch before losing consciousness.
The two coins were precisely the treatment fee.
Although the man before him was young, the courage to remain here demonstrated considerable nerve, and his credentials were likely legitimate.
Because he detected no killing intent from David.
Without speaking, he extracted two gold coins from his pocket and tossed them into the blood pool beside him, then stepped through the bloodstains toward the fake ambulance's driver cabin.
Before long, two more bodies were dragged out by him like sacks of garbage.
Then, with a noticeably pale complexion, he drove away in the counterfeit ambulance.
Only then did the wail of an actual ambulance sound in the distance.
David retrieved the two gold coins from the ground, wiped them on a corpse's jacket, pocketed them, and turned to leave.
As for questioning afterward?
He'd deal with that when detectives came knocking.
There were plenty of people recording—they could all verify his innocence.
Furthermore, all the enforcers the Bratva had sent to silence the target were now dead.
This meant David had no further complications.
Moreover, by preventing the Bratva from eliminating the assassin, David's life countdown extended another day, reaching 7 days and 17 hours.
This was absolutely worthwhile.
It also further confirmed that preventing death in advance counted as saving a life.
Which meant if there were some kind of nuclear crisis in this world, he'd only need to prevent it once to completely resolve his glioblastoma problem.
However, from current appearances, this world seemed relatively stable.
David, lost in contemplation, hailed a cab to return to the Continental.
As it happened, he encountered the same cabbie from yesterday.
When the driver saw David's face, he assumed David had tracked him down about yesterday's detour scam.
Seeing the bloody crime scene nearby, panic immediately flooded his features.
This is a murder scene?
Is he going to kill me too while he's at it? Or does he want to frame me for this?
The cabbie, with an entire thriller playing in his mind, just wanted to floor it and escape, but in his panic, the experienced driver hit the brake instead of the gas.
This maneuver didn't launch him away—instead, he stopped dead, allowing the "Grim Reaper" to smoothly enter the vehicle.
The cabbie's eyes kept darting to the back seat, and he stammered:
"Wh-where to?"
Hearing this somewhat familiar voice, David looked up, recognized the driver, and immediately smiled:
"Oh, it's you again. What are the odds?"
"Still the Continental. I didn't pay you yesterday; I'll settle up this time."
Realizing David recognized him, the cabbie nearly broke down in tears.
"No... it wasn't me, I don't know you, and I've never been to the Continental."
Detecting the cabbie's extreme anxiety, David examined his own reflection in the window suspiciously. Did he look threatening?
"You don't happen to have an identical twin who also drives, do you?"
Hearing this, the cabbie immediately latched onto the lifeline:
"Yes, yes, yes! I've got a twin brother who also drives a cab. His name is... uh, Tony. You probably know him."
David nodded and said nothing more.
Clearly the driver was under severe stress at the moment.
He worried that if he spoke again, the cabbie might not even distinguish red lights from green.
David certainly didn't want to die in some random traffic accident.
Fortunately, as the atmosphere gradually settled into silence, the cabbie's condition stabilized.
Soon, he smoothly delivered David to the Continental's entrance.
This time, David handed the fare to the driver inside the cab, but the cabbie's hand trembled so badly he fumbled the bills, dropping them to the floor—clearly terrified.
David, not comprehending why, could only exit the vehicle first and let the driver collect himself.
After getting out, David suddenly noticed an ambulance had just passed through the nearby intersection.
It seemed the earlier assassin had also returned to the Continental.
That made sense. With the Bratva hunting him, only the Continental could offer temporary sanctuary.
However, this refuge wouldn't last indefinitely.
Just like John, once the High Table passed a resolution, this assassin would quickly lose Continental privileges.
But this wasn't David's concern.
David strode into the hotel lobby, walked up to Charon, rapped on the marble desk to get his attention, then asked:
"Any assignments tonight?"
Charon glanced at David with mild surprise—physicians as proactive as David were genuinely rare.
"There is indeed a complex surgical procedure tonight requiring assistance, but this operation will take at least three hours. Are you certain you can manage it?"
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