Nine Hundred and Seventy-Four Chapters Lonely as Snow Leave a Messenger

The appearance of this bounty was purely an accident.

In a situation where hundreds of special forces-level fighters were dispatched in one breath to encircle and suppress Luke, there was almost no other possibility except on the battlefield.

Nor will he enter the battlefield.

He doesn't have any hobby for killing people, it's all just because of experience points.

Even if some people definitely have experience points to get, he didn't kill them all, not a single thought.

Like the one or two hundred cases he has handled over the past year, most of them were just sent to prison by him.

In other small cases of petty theft, bank robbery, and threats with a gun, even if they can be solved by shooting, he just subdues the other party.

This time the Continental Hotel's bounty gave him a chance.

Actual combat is the only criterion for testing truth.

Today's actual battle tested his speculation.

The ordinary human army, without the coordinated attack of a lot of heavy firepower, could no longer pose a threat to him.

This doesn't sound like a big deal, and no one in the army has any heavy firepower.

But the locations of Luke and his various vest activities are almost all in big cities.

In this environment, the army is unlikely to use heavy firepower, and the consequences are too serious.

Against ordinary people in the city, he is invincible.

When he came to this conclusion, there was no surprise in his heart, but a bit of emptiness.

The phrase "lonely as snow" is indeed a true portrayal of the mood at the moment.

From this moment on, the battle with ordinary people will become a simple and unsuspenseful mechanical scoring behavior, even if the opponent is an elite killer or special soldier, even if the number of opponents is dozens or hundreds.

Unless the opponent is a superhuman, or, like a certain big boy, has a weapon that is beyond normal, it is just a moving target under his muzzle.

While thinking about this, he quickly cleaned up all the "garbage" and the scene, and threw it into a large truck that had been parked in the park's parking lot.

This is also the prop he reserved here in advance,

Made for scrubbing.

Turning his head and looking at the dead silence, there was only snow falling from the sky.

As he spoke, he took advantage of the cover of the large truck compartment to transport a life-size sculpture from the storage space and placed it on the small peninsula by the lake.

Most of the killers tonight left their lives here, which is a good place to leave souvenirs.

After placing the sculpture, Luke waved the matte knife, and there was an extra line of standard English cursive characters on the base of the sculpture.

Glancing at the sentence that was carved out by a machine, he nodded with satisfaction, turned around and wanted to leave, but stopped abruptly, swung out the matte knife again, and engraved a number under the message - 126.

"This time, your memory should be clearer and longer." Luke chuckled lightly, got into the big truck, and quickly disappeared into the park.

Miquan Park fell into silence again, only the snowflakes falling from the sky gradually piled up on the unconscious killer and the black statue.

Snow is getting bigger and bigger.

...

At the Continental Hotel in New York, Winston was watching leisurely on the sofa by the fireplace with a book in his hand.

Suddenly, the door was knocked.

He frowned: "Come in." Just by hearing the knock on the door, he knew it was Caron, the duty manager of the hall.

A thin-faced black man entered the door and walked not far from Winston.

He was wearing a neat black suit, his back was straight, his movements were quick but not impatient, and he even seemed quite gentle, which was completely different from the unrestrained and natural style of most African Americans.

This is Cuaron, and Winston's most trusted subordinate.

"Sir, something happened." Caron lowered his body slightly and said softly.

Winston was not impatient, but he didn't delay. He bookmarked the book folder in his hand, closed it and put it on the small coffee table next to him: "What's the matter?"

Caron: "There's something wrong with that order from Smiley Man. The news just came. Of the 127 killers who went to Mire Park, only one survived."

Winston's breathing paused for a while, then raised his hand and took off his golden glasses: "What is the specific situation?"

At the same time as the words came out, several thoughts had already floated in his mind.

Peer ambush? Official shot? Or... that person came out?

Thinking of the last thought, he couldn't help shaking his head slightly: Impossible, that person has worked so hard to get out of this circle, just for a precious love, how could he come back.

"The one who survived was deliberately put back by Smiley to send a letter, and it was she who called the hotel as soon as she woke up, and I learned the news." Caron said.

Winston looked calm, stood up slowly, took two steps, stood in front of the fireplace, and added two firewood to the fireplace: "What did he say?"

Caron's racial talent limited the further deepening of his face, but his expression became more rigid: "Sir, is it the original?"

Winston watched the wood just thrown into the fireplace gradually change color, and then the flames floated: "Speak."

Cuaron: "His original words were - go back and tell the Continental Hotel, this time is just a small greeting. Since I'm in New York, then I'm standing, you have to kneel. I'm sitting, you have to lie on your stomach , just like you are now."

He has repeatedly confirmed this.

He knew that his boss would ask.

In Winston's eyes, the fire of the fireplace was beating, and the newly added wood made it more lively.

After a moment of silence, he said, "The living person, take good care of her, and make sure she recalls all the useful information."

Caron: "Yes, sir."

After waiting for a while, he didn't hear the next sentence, he hesitated and said, "Sir, that smiling face..."

Winston waved his back to him: "Don't worry about him for now, it's business as usual."

Caron opened his mouth, and finally said respectfully: "Yes, sir." Then he left the room.

In one order, one hundred and twenty-six killers died, which is extremely rare for a mainland hotel.

Cuaron originally wanted to ask what to do, but he couldn't guess many of Winston's thoughts, but he believed that the boss had his own plans, and he didn't need to remind him repeatedly.

Winston stood in front of the fireplace for a while, until he felt a little hot, then walked back to the living room and took out his mobile phone broadcast number: "Thoroughly check the order, number 041125, contract code Smiley. Including the payer and the reason for the contract. Remember, what I want is not the N-handed goods that I inquired about on the street, I want real first-hand information."

Hearing the answer, he hung up the phone.

Walking to the window, watching the first winter snow that was getting bigger and bigger, a faint bad premonition flashed in his heart.

This hunch has helped him avoid many crises, and he would rather believe it and spend time and energy verifying it than classifying it as an elderly person's paranoia.

This world is too dangerous.

The Continental Hotel is not invincible.

...