The Assistance's Massacre

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Gunfire erupted inside the Textile Factory, with the assassins leveraging the terrain advantage against the Special Operations Team, resulting in a back-and-forth exchange.

After all, the Textile Factory was the Assistance's stronghold. While there might not be many assassins who had mastered Gun Fu to the highest level, there were plenty who could be hired for a cheap price, costing no more than two thousand US dollars per job.

"Rat-tat-tat!"

"Bang bang bang!"

Two assassins who darted out from a corner were instantly riddled with bullets by the Special Operations Team members guarding the potential escape route, turning them into sieves.

Not even a fly could get out.

That's what Lake had said, and it was the unanimous thought of the five Special Operations Team members who had already sustained casualties.

An eye for an eye...

A tooth for a tooth!

"BOOM!"

The security room on the second floor instantly exploded. With a loud bang, the Butcher and the rat-man, who were hiding inside, were blasted out of the second floor and hurled violently to the ground, covered in blood from the concussive force.

"Don't move!"

"Don't move!"

Three Special Operations Team members immediately surrounded them. The dark muzzles, still radiating heat, were aimed directly at the Butcher and the rat-man, who couldn't move even if they wanted to and were on the verge of death from excessive blood loss.

"Open the door!"

"Open the door!"

Jack and a squad of team members, protecting the Mayor who had come here to support Sloan but ended up standing alone, yelled at the SWAT officers guarding the main gate as they evacuated the factory.

The Mayor looked terrified. He had only one thought now: to leave this place as quickly as possible.

Rumble!

A helicopter appeared in the distance, followed closely by three helicopters from the NYPD.

Reinforcements had arrived.

The events at the Textile Factory were not only known to the NYPD but also to the Continental Hotel.

However, even the Continental Hotel, which monopolized the assassin world, dared not openly confront law enforcement. They merely dispatched some personnel to observe the situation.

Carlos the Cross was unaware of this.

After his son was escorted out of the Textile Factory and got into the police car, Carlos stopped paying attention to the Textile Factory. Instead, he followed behind the police car, contemplating whether or not to rescue his son.

Chaos erupted within the Textile Factory!

"Bang!"

Lake shot a head, and as the SWAT team members cornered them from below, Lake cleaned up from above.

A red blur flashed not far away.

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

Lake flicked his gun barrel towards the appearing Fire Fox and said, "Such a beautiful woman, yet you choose to be a thief!"

It was the same sentiment.

Today, the Assistance must be wiped out.

Even beautiful female assassins received no special treatment.

As the words fell, Lake flicked his gun barrel again, engaging in a gunfight duel with Fire Fox once more.

Bang bang bang!

Bullets collided between the two, clanging and ringing, their kinetic energy lost as they fell to the floor incessantly, like a clear symphony or a funeral dirge of death.

"Bang!"

"..."

Fire Fox's eyes widened in shock as the half-loaded magazine slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor.

Click!

Click!

Lake removed his own magazine, placing the full magazine in front of Fire Fox, and said softly, "See, I could do this all day without getting tired."

Fire Fox lowered her gaze, staring at the hole in her chest.

The next second.

Plop!

Lake watched Fire Fox close her eyes and fall to the ground with a thud, shaking his head.

If Lake's bullets were also limited, Lake felt he would definitely lose this fight. Unfortunately, Lake wasn't an ordinary person; he was a man with a cheat system.

[Glock 17, like it has infinite bullets, giving you the bottom line of a man, making your bullets flow endlessly like the Yellow River, shoot however you want, no need to worry about running out of ammo!]

Lake looked up, his gaze falling on the factory director's office not far away.

One left.

Sloan was in the factory director's office. After Sloan went to the secret escape tunnel and found that the Special Operations Team was making moves in every pipe, the old guy returned to his office.

When Lake walked into the office, Sloan, that old scoundrel, was sitting in his chair, which had been taken apart and haphazardly put back together, smoking a cigar.

"Mr. Sloan."

Lake walked in, a smile on his face, as if greeting an old acquaintance. "Why aren't you trying to escape?"

Sloan, smoking his cigar, stared intently at Lake. "Who... are you, exactly?"

Ordinary detectives weren't this powerful.

Even if they were, no detective would possess the unique skill of Gun Fu, which only their Assistance had.

So...

Sloan stared intently at Lake, wanting an answer. Otherwise, Sloan knew he would die with regrets.

He would die.

Sloan was certain. As he'd said before, an ordinary policeman would arrest him, but the policeman in front of him, who knew Gun Fu, was definitely not here to arrest him.

So Sloan wanted an answer before he died.

But!

Bang!

"..."

Lake shot through Sloan's forehead and walked out, dropping the pistol that had pierced Sloan's head next to Fire Fox's corpse. He walked back into the office and then looked at Sloan's body, saying softly, "Villains talk too much. I don't like it. I like to kill you first, then talk. Why? Because you guys made my job harder?"

At the time, he had just wanted to take Joe, the baggage, through the motions.

But look at this.

It had turned from going through the motions into a gunfight. If anyone was to blame, it was the assassin who didn't fight fair back then. All of this was caused by that assassin.

Lake stood there, surveying the office environment.

The next second.

"Not good!"

Lake's eyebrows shot up. Looking at Sloan's corpse, he suddenly remembered something: he had forgotten to ask Sloan where his secret stash was.

Five minutes later.

Lake frowned deeply as he looked at a treasure chest hidden behind a bookshelf.

What was the password again?

Lake turned to look at Sloan, who was leaning back in his chair, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. He really wanted to ask, but unfortunately, dead men couldn't talk.

Just then.

"Lake!"

"Lake!"

Joe, along with a team of special operatives, cleared the office. Joe walked into the office, saw Lake inside, said "God," and then hugged Lake tightly.

Don't misunderstand.

This was purely camaraderie between colleagues.

Besides, Detective Joe Martinez was a married woman, already married. Lake, unless he was single and unaware, might have had thoughts, but now Lake was neither single nor unaware.

Let's put it this way.

Even though Detective Joe Martinez was hugging Lake tightly at this moment, Lake's heart was as calm as still water, undisturbed. Feeling the friction against his chest, his little Lake wasn't even interested.

At this moment.

Lake had only one thought in his mind.

That was...

How much money he had lost this time.

Lake, being embraced by Detective Joe, glanced at the rock-solid safe out of the corner of his eye, his heart bleeding. No matter how little money was inside, it could at least be exchanged for a lottery draw.

My money...

It's gone!!