Lake stood at the entrance to the building with both hands in his pockets, watching the Black Kings in front of him wave their banners and shout all kinds of things about him being a butcher when they saw him come out. He couldn't help rubbing his chin.
An uncontrollable urge to mock them stirred restlessly within him.
But...
Lake ultimately gave up. He still had important business to take care of that night, and besides, it was nothing more than a bunch of idiots barking wildly. Lake found it noisy, but he wasn't willing to dirty his hands.
However...
Lake tilted his head. Looking at the Black King charging at the very front and shouting the loudest, he took out his old-fashioned cellphone and snapped a picture of him.
The Black King immediately froze. "What are you doing?"
Lake looked up with a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Guess."
The Black King: "..."
What was he doing?
Obviously, he was settling accounts after the fact. If marching was the tradition carved into the Black Kings' souls, then settling accounts after the fact was the traditional art carved into Lake's soul.
As the saying went.
You could jump around all you wanted now, but you had better not end up crying your eyes out when the final accounts were settled.
That would be embarrassing.
The Black King's pupils shrank sharply, but by the time he came to his senses, Lake, who had been standing in front of him, had already disappeared.
Lake turned his head and glanced at the several Black Kings who had followed him. He gave them a cold smile, then waved down a taxi and got in.
The several Black Kings looked at one another.
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 earlier had caused property prices in the surrounding area to plummet for a while, they soon rose again. Before two months had even passed and before the World Trade Center incident had been completely forgotten, property prices around the Budan Community had returned to their former levels—and had even risen far above what they had been two months ago.
After all, this was a famous wealthy neighborhood.
The residence of the famous lawyer Jefferson Hall was here.
Lawyers and doctors were the same in this regard: the more famous they were, the less they lacked money.
If I'd known, I should've studied law instead of medicine.
That was what Lake thought, but he quickly abandoned the idea again. Both law and medicine were highly paid professions, but they required many years of study.
So studying art was still better.
It was simple, and graduation was easy. He wouldn't have to worry about failing to graduate while still owing huge tuition fees.
Lake smacked his lips, looked around, and then turned his gaze toward the sign of a bar not far away.
Clone!
Create a clone. The clone does not possess skills that the main body cannot control. The clone automatically disappears upon death. There is no cooldown. Only one clone can be summoned at a time, or an additional clone can be purchased for one hundred thousand dollars. The second clone costs one hundred thousand, the third two hundred thousand, the fourth four hundred thousand...
It really was a pay-to-win system.
It lived up to its name.
By the time Lake, wearing his Gold-rimmed Glasses, entered the roadside bar, Lake the Black King, without his glasses, had already started walking toward the Budan Community while whistling.
Given the wealth of the famous lawyer Jefferson Hall, the White plus Black organization absolutely couldn't afford to hire him. Never mind the idea that Jefferson Hall might be trying to ride the wave and make a name for himself.
That wasn't realistic.
Jefferson Hall was already a senior partner at his law firm. He wasn't some fresh-faced young lawyer who needed to take high-profile cases to build his reputation. He had long since passed that stage.
So...
Lake felt that if he had a proper talk with him, perhaps they could reach an agreement.
If they couldn't, that was fine too.
All that mattered was leaving his life behind.
After all, no matter how you looked at it, once Jefferson Hall had accepted the case, he had already prepared himself to oppose Lake. He was already an enemy.
Lake had only one requirement for his enemies.
A dead enemy was a good enemy.
However...
Lake stood on the community street. When he was about five hundred meters from Attorney Hall's typically American suburban house, he stopped beneath a large tree and turned his gaze toward the lawyer's residence.
The FBI.
Lake narrowed his eyes. It made perfect sense for FBI agents to appear here. White plus Black was dead, and the FBI's psychological profilers couldn't possibly fail to consider that Hall might be the next target.
What?
What if they were wrong?
That was fine too. If they bet correctly and caught Lake, it would be a major accomplishment. If they bet wrong, making friends with a famous lawyer like this would still be worthwhile. Who knew when they might meet again?
"Heh!"
Lake lowered his head and chuckled. Although he had always chosen long-range sniping for his contracts before, that didn't mean he liked it. He had had no choice in the past, but if he could choose now, Lake really wanted to emulate his idol, Reliable.
To put it this way.
Lake used to play Assassin's Creed all the time. His favorite thing was killing someone in the middle of a massive army without a single witness seeing him.
Because everyone who could have seen him had already fallen.
And besides...
The people here were from the FBI, not the NYPD.
Whoosh!
An infinite-ammo Glock 17 appeared in Lake's hand.
Sneaking in quietly wasn't his style.
A true assassin always entered through the front door, fought through everyone to find the target, and either killed him or obtained the information he wanted.
"Who is it?"
"Stop right there."
"Something's wrong. Fire..."
"Bang!"
"Ah!"
A gleaming golden bullet tore through the air in an instant and slammed into an agent standing by the roadside and smoking with a colleague. The agent let out a muffled grunt and fell backward.
You'd better be wearing a bulletproof vest.
Although Lake liked going all out, he had no intention of killing all these agents. Completely angering the FBI wouldn't be worth it to him.
But killing them wouldn't matter either. At worst, he could turn his side job into his main job.
It wasn't a big deal!
"Enemy attack!"
"Call for backup!"
"Quick!"
"Bang bang bang!"
"Bang bang bang!"
Lake raised the Glock expressionlessly. Countless bullets were blasted out before they could reach him, and then bullet after bullet struck the five agents who had come over to protect Hall—even though they weren't sure whether he was actually returning.
The five agents cried out in pain and collapsed.
"Ah!"
"Bang!"
Lake smashed the butt of the gun into the neck of an agent who had dropped his pistol and tried to engage him in close-quarters combat. The agent rolled his eyes back and collapsed on the spot.
At that moment.
The NYPD and even the FBI had already received the call.
Even...
In a certain café.
Natasha hung up after receiving a call while drinking coffee with a friend. She waved her cellphone at the person across from her. "Looks like your warning was useless."
Her friend stirred the coffee in front of them and said calmly, "Isn't that even better? Doesn't he deserve to be recruited?"
Natasha chuckled. "That's true. Aren't you afraid he'll notice something?"
Her friend smiled but said nothing.
Before you continue