In the snow, Hong Fei stared unblinkingly at Bullseye, who hadn't breathed his last.
"That's another martial art I haven't seen before," Frank said.
"I told you, I know many things," Hong Fei said without turning his head.
Master Hong's honesty made Frank uncomfortable for a brief moment. Then, he added, "You want to subdue him." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes," Hong Fei admitted straightforwardly. If he hadn't wanted to recruit Bullseye for his own use, he wouldn't have held back his strength, speed, and other aspects while fighting him.
What just happened was less of a fight and more of Hong Fei intentionally reviewing and consolidating his own foundations while incidentally feeding moves to Bullseye.
This situation had continued for over a hundred rounds, and Bullseye had indeed made some progress. However, the result was clearly disappointing. At that moment, the snow around Bullseye was stained red with blood; apart from his lips still opening and closing unconsciously, there was no other movement.
Looking at the miserable scene, the flesh on Frank's face twitched three times. He shook his head and said, "Last night, I actually thought you would let him leave."
"You don't understand. Am I not sending him off with my own hands right now?"
Frank rolled his eyes. If Bullseye's mental state had been a bit more normal, there might have been a tiny chance that Hong Fei would have really let him go. But facing such a disobedient, crazy, and capable assassin and mercenary, Hong Fei would absolutely not let him leave alive after discovering his true identity.
Who knew if Bullseye would immediately go find the Police or the media to expose his true identity the moment he left? Today's final battle was also the last chance he gave to Bullseye. Had Bullseye shown even the slightest bit of normalcy and control, he wouldn't have been so quick to kill him. Perhaps his mental illness could have been cured by magic or similar means in the future? But the situation just now was already very clear.
Hong Fei acknowledged that he couldn't fathom the thoughts of a madman, had no way to constantly monitor Bullseye's actions, and saw no need to trouble himself for the sake of one Bullseye. The imprisonment and beatings of Bullseye over the past month had increased his energy significantly. But he could be certain that killing Bullseye would definitely improve his physical fitness. Sure enough, when Bullseye took his last breath, Hong Fei felt a slight improvement in his physical fitness. Of course, what Hong Fei cared about more was that a glowing green card rose from Bullseye's corpse.
He stepped forward, reached out to grab it, and then threw Bullseye to Frank: "Get him a burial plot; put it on my tab." Frank nodded, shouldered the corpse, and walked toward the door to hand it over to Number One. Hong Fei turned and returned to his room. Passive Skill Card: Weapon Mastery (Green)
"You can skillfully use any object as a weapon." A skill that was better than nothing, he supposed. It might come in handy at certain moments. In one month, he had defeated Bullseye a total of two hundred and ten times. He'd harvested two white skill cards on the first night, and this was the third one.
Because of this, Hong Fei's interest in Bullseye grew smaller and smaller. In the latter half of the month, he only went to see him every few days. Now, the question arose again: Does killing a target always drop a skill card?
After pondering for a long time, Hong Fei sighed and put the card away. The sample size was too small, lacking a control group. He couldn't get a definitive answer. He got up, went out, and took the elevator straight to the basement.
The space under the manor had been expanded into three levels, each three meters high and covering over three thousand square meters. If the construction team hadn't thought that a larger area might affect the main building, Hong Fei would have wanted to make it even larger and deeper. Currently, only Hong Fei and Frank had authorization to enter the bottom level. It was brightly lit with smooth air circulation. A straight path led to a hall of over a hundred square meters, with a circle of gray sofas on the white tiles, enough for dozens of people to sit together.
Around the hall were individual rooms, most of which were currently empty, except for the food warehouse and the weapons warehouse. Entering the password, he entered the weapons warehouse. Rows of metal racks were aligned neatly. The racks in front were piled with all kinds of firearms, from ammunition and daggers to gear and artillery; everything was available. These things were all newly purchased. The previous batch of supplies had been left in Sokovia. They could still be used outside later, so there was no need to waste energy bringing them back.
However, the two batches of goods did have some similarities. For example, that 120mm mortar. Hong Fei had used this thing twice and already had some trust in it. After all, he couldn't get anything bigger right now. Patting the barrel, Hong Fei smacked his lips, his expression clearly not very satisfied. For the sake of justice and truth, one must pursue larger calibers and longer ranges. Walking past, he entered the deepest part of the warehouse. On a black rack lay more than a dozen straight Cross-blades.
Their appearance had nothing outstanding; the handle, guard, and even the scabbard were a plain black. If they weren't drawn, they would probably be mistaken for swords. Casually grabbing one, Hong Fei turned and left. Returning to the surface, he ran into Frank just as he stepped out.
"What's this?"
Hong Fei said, "Perfect, you come shoot, I'll test if it's hard enough."
Frank immediately shook his head. "I don't have time."
"Don't mess around." Dragging the unwilling Frank all the way to an open area, Hong Fei drew the blade.
The cold, sharp surface of the blade clearly reflected the snowflakes falling from the sky. He held the blade with both hands, the edge facing forward.
"Come on."
Frank looked at the distance. "Should I step back a few more paces?"
The two were about ten meters apart. Hong Fei shook his head. "No need, how many bullets do you have?"
"17 rounds."
"Fire them all."
Frank nodded and drew the pistol from his waist. "Are you ready?"
Hong Fei nodded silently. The muzzle was pointed directly at him. Seeing his index finger rest on the trigger, Hong Fei immediately activated the Eyes of Death.
Shell casings were ejected, bullets spiraled forward, and the air rippled under the pressure, especially visible in the snowy environment. The blade flashed, and the edge hit the target squarely. After the bullet was split in two, Hong Fei glanced at the blade; there was no damage.
Next, the bang-bang-bang of gunfire rang out in succession. The Cross-blade danced in front of him in a series of afterimages, as if water couldn't even splash through, and bullet after bullet was sliced open one by one. In the gaps between each strike, Hong Fei would take a moment to look at the edge.
On the twelfth strike, the blade chipped for the first time. Hong Fei consciously controlled each strike so that the point of contact with the bullet was different. However, by the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth strikes, the whole blade seemed to reach its limit, and the chipped fragments were larger each time.
After seventeen strikes, Hong Fei was about to stop, but unexpectedly, another bullet burst from Frank's pistol. His wrist turned rapidly, the slash turned into a direct thrust, and the sharp tip of the blade accurately pierced the bullet. Clang!
The bullet pierced into the tip of the blade, and the blade immediately hummed and vibrated. Hong Fei relaxed and tightened his palm, channeling force into the blade, directly neutralizing the vibration of the Cross-blade. Closing the Eyes of Death, he immediately glared at Frank. He saw Frank nonchalantly holster his pistol, then put his hands on his hips, and with an arrogant expression said: "Let me teach you one more thing. The magazine capacity doesn't always represent the total number of the enemy's bullets.
Remember to chamber one in the future; that extra round might just save your life." Hong Fei, however, was ungrateful. "Is that supposed to be high-end? It's been shown hundreds of times in movies. I think you're just trying to pick a fight." Frank's mouth curled up, and he smiled silently.