"Just tell me what it is."
The Damascus knife flipped in Su Xiao's hand, its edge gleaming coldly.
An old Mexican stood up. With his back to Su Xiao, he pulled up his clothes, revealing bandages around his waist and back. The old Mexican tore away the bloodstained gauze, exposing the wound beneath.
Su Xiao's pupils constricted when he saw the wound. He was all too familiar with it—it had been caused by 'Scorpion's Mouth.' Only one person used that unique weapon: Haidong.
Judging from the wound, it had been inflicted recently. But Haidong was already dead. Su Xiao had personally buried him.
Su Xiao strode forward and used the Damascus knife in his hand to pry open a small section of the circular wound caused by 'Scorpion's Mouth.' The old Mexican remained expressionless.
After a preliminary inspection, Su Xiao realized that this was not a wound caused by 'Scorpion's Mouth.' The exterior looked similar, but there were subtle differences inside. The circular wounds caused by Scorpion's Mouth were filled with rotten flesh, whereas this wound was not.
Su Xiao immediately realized that someone had imitated Haidong's killing method and forged a Scorpion's Mouth. Such things were not uncommon in the assassin business—it was merely an attempt to smear one another. Besides, Haidong had obsessive-compulsive disorder. He would never use such an inferior Scorpion's Mouth, much less use it to attack an old Mexican assassin. Haidong had become a thing of the past. Perhaps only Su Xiao would remember that there had once been a man named Haidong.
"This wasn't done by Haidong, so it has nothing to do with me."
Su Xiao made his stance clear. The two bald Mexican men were somewhat surprised, then their gazes turned cold.
The reason they had come to find Su Xiao was