An Assassin Should Wield Unrivaled Power (Uh... Are You Guys on Break Yet!)

Lake stood at the entrance of the building, hands in his pockets, looking at the small black people holding banners and shouting that he was a murderer upon seeing him emerge. He couldn't help but stroke his chin.

A soul-stirring urge for mockery stirred within him.

But...

Lake still gave up. After all, he had important business to attend to that evening. Besides, it was just the barking of a bunch of idiots. Lake found it noisy but didn't want to get his own hands dirty.

However...

Lake tilted his head, looking at the small black person at the very front of the crowd, who was shouting the loudest. He took out his old-fashioned phone and took a picture of the small black person with a click.

The small black person immediately froze. "What are you doing?"

Lake looked up, a smile on his lips. "Guess."

Small black person: "..."

What for?

It was for settling scores later, of course. If the tradition etched into the souls of the small black people was to protest, then the traditional skill etched into Lake's soul was to settle scores later.

It's the same saying.

Jump now, jump however you want, but have the guts not to cry and sob when it's time to settle the final bill.

That would be very embarrassing.

The small black person's eyes narrowed. However, by the time the small black person came to his senses, Lake, who had been standing in front of him, had already disappeared.

Lake turned and glanced at a few small black people who had followed him, gave a cold smile, and directly hailed a taxi.

The few small black people looked at each other.

Before they could decide whether to follow, the taxi had already disappeared from their sight.

Half an hour later.

Near the Budan community in Lower Manhattan, close to a certain World Trade Center.

Lake paid the fare and got out of the car.

Although the World Trade Center incident two months prior had caused property prices in the vicinity to plummet for a while, it wasn't long before the prices in the Budan community had rebounded, and even surpassed their pre-incident levels, not even two months after the World Trade Center incident had truly faded from people's minds.

After all, it was a famous wealthy community.

The residence of the renowned lawyer, Jefferson Hall, was located here.

Lawyers and doctors were the same here; the more famous they were, the more dollars they never lacked.

If only he had studied law instead of medicine back then.

Lake thought to himself, but quickly abandoned the idea again. Both the legal and medical professions were high-paying, but they required a very long time to study.

So, it was better to study art.

Simple, easy to graduate, and no need to worry about not graduating and still having to pay huge tuition fees.

Lake smacked his lips, looked around, and then his gaze fell on the bar sign not far away.

[Clone!]

[Create a clone. The clone does not possess skills that the main body cannot control. After the clone dies, it automatically disappears with no cooldown. At most, one clone can be summoned at a time, or an additional clone can be summoned for a price of one hundred thousand US dollars. The second clone costs one hundred thousand, the third two hundred thousand, the fourth four hundred thousand...]

As expected, a pay-to-win system.

True to its name.

By the time Lake, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, walked into the roadside bar, Lake, the Black King without glasses, had already walked whistling along the roadside towards the Budan community.

Given the net worth of the renowned lawyer Jefferson Hall, he absolutely couldn't afford to hire that pair of white and black. Let alone the idea that Jefferson Hall was trying to ride the coattails of the incident to build his reputation.

That was highly unrealistic.

Jefferson Hall was already a senior partner at his law firm, not some freshly minted junior lawyer. He had long passed the stage of needing to take on hot cases to boost his own profile.

So...

Lake felt that if he had a good chat with him, they might be able to reach an agreement.

It didn't matter if they couldn't reach an agreement.

As long as he left his life behind.

After all, no matter what, lawyer Jefferson Hall had already prepared himself to oppose Lake after taking this case, making him an enemy.

Lake only had one requirement for his enemies.

Dead enemies were good enemies.

However...

Lake stopped under a large tree about five hundred meters away from lawyer Hall's typical American-style villa, his gaze fixed on lawyer Hall's residence.

The FBI.

Lake narrowed his eyes. The presence of the FBI here was perfectly reasonable. After all, with White plus Black dead, the FBI's psychological analysts wouldn't fail to realize that Hall might be the next target.

What?

What if it's not?

It doesn't matter. If I win the gamble and catch Lake, it's a great achievement. If I lose the gamble, getting to know these famous lawyers is also very good. Who knows when we'll meet again.

"Heh!"

Lake chuckled, looking down. Although he used to take jobs that involved long-distance sniping, it didn't mean Lake liked it. He didn't have a choice before, but now, if Lake had to choose, he really wanted to be like his idol.

Let's put it this way.

Lake used to play Assassin's Creed a lot. His favorite thing to do was to kill people in the midst of an army, and then, there wasn't a single witness who could see him.

Because everyone who could see him had already fallen.

And besides...

The people here were from the FBI, not the NYPD.

Swish!

The infinite-ammo Glock 17 appeared in Lake's hand.

Sneaking around quietly wasn't his style.

A true killer always entered through the front door, unleashed their full power to find the target, either killing him or obtaining the information they wanted.

"Who's there?"

"Halt."

"Something's wrong, fire..."

"Bang!"

"Ah!"

A golden bullet instantly pierced the air, and with a swish, it hit an agent who was standing by the roadside smoking with a colleague. The latter grunted and fell backward.

You better be wearing body armor.

Although Lake liked to go all out, he didn't intend to kill all these agents. If he completely angered the FBI, it wouldn't be worth it for him.

However, it wouldn't matter if he killed them. At most, his part-time job would become his main job.

It wasn't a big deal!

"Enemy attack!"

"Call for backup!"

"Quick!"

"Bang bang bang!"

"Bang bang bang!"

Lake raised his Glock expressionlessly, and countless bullets were blasted away before him. Then, one after another, the bullets directly hit five agents who were merely there for protection and not confirmed to be returning.

The five agents instantly cried out in pain and fell to the ground.

"Ah!"

"Bang!"

Lake smashed the butt of his gun directly into the neck of an agent who had dropped his pistol and was preparing to engage in close-quarters combat with him. The latter rolled his eyes and instantly collapsed.

At this moment.

The NYPD and even the FBI had received the calls.

Even...

In a certain coffee shop.

Natasha, who was drinking coffee with a friend, hung up the phone and then said to her friend opposite her, showing her phone: "It seems your warning was useless."

Her friend stirred the coffee in front of him and said calmly, "Isn't this better? He's worth recruiting."

Natasha chuckled, "That's true. Aren't you afraid he'll realize something?"

Her friend smiled and said nothing.