Trying Out the Saber

In the snow, Hong Fei stared intently at Bullseye, who was not yet dead.

Frank: "More Kung Fu I haven't seen before."

"I told you, I know a lot," Hong Fei replied without turning his head.

Master Hong's honesty made Frank uncomfortable for a moment, then he continued, "You want to subdue him."

This was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," Hong Fei admitted frankly.

If he hadn't intended to take Bullseye for his own use, he wouldn't have held back his strength and speed in their fight.

What had just happened was less a battle and more Hong Fei reviewing and solidifying his own fundamentals while incidentally feeding moves to Bullseye.

This had been going on for over a hundred times, and Bullseye had indeed made progress.

However, the results were clearly disappointing.

By now, the snow around Bullseye was stained red with blood. Apart from his lips still moving unconsciously, there was no other sign of life.

Seeing the tragic scene, the flesh on Frank's face twitched three times. Shaking his head, he said, "Last night, I actually thought you were going to let him go."

"You don't understand. Am I not sending him off myself now?"

Frank rolled his eyes.

If Bullseye's mental state had been a little more normal, Hong Fei might have had a tiny chance of actually letting him go.

But facing such a disobedient, crazy killer and mercenary with some skill, Hong Fei would absolutely not let him leave alive after knowing his true identity.

Who knew if Bullseye would immediately go to the police or the media to expose his real identity as soon as he left?

This last battle of the day was also Bullseye's last chance.

If Bullseye had shown even a little normal and controllable behavior, Hong Fei wouldn't have killed him so directly. Perhaps his mental illness could have been cured with magic or something in the future?

But the situation just now was very clear.

Hong Fei felt he couldn't fathom the mind of a madman, nor could he constantly monitor Bullseye's actions. There was no need to trouble himself for the sake of one Bullseye.

The month of imprisonment and beatings had significantly increased his energy.

But he was sure that killing Bullseye would improve his physical fitness.

As expected, when Bullseye took his last breath, Hong Fei felt a slight improvement in his physical fitness.

Of course, what Hong Fei cared about more was the green card that rose from Bullseye's corpse.

He stepped forward, reached out, and casually tossed Bullseye to Frank, "Give him a grave, on me."

Frank nodded, carried the corpse to the door, and handed it over to Number One.

Hong Fei turned and went back to his room.

[Passive Skill Card: Weapon Proficiency] (Green)

"You can skillfully use any object as a weapon."

A skill that was better than nothing, perhaps useful at certain moments.

In one month, he had defeated Bullseye a total of two hundred and ten times. On the first night, he obtained two white skill cards. This was the third one.

Because of this, Hong Fei's interest in Bullseye gradually waned. For the latter half of the month, he would only go to see him every few days.

So now the question arose again.

Did killing a target always drop a skill card?

After pondering for a long time, Hong Fei sighed and put the card away.

There were too few samples and no control group, so he couldn't get a definitive answer.

He got up and went out, taking the elevator directly to the basement.

The space under the manor had been expanded into three floors, each three meters high and covering an area of over three thousand square meters. If the construction company hadn't thought that a larger area might affect the main building, Hong Fei would have wanted to make it even bigger and deeper.

The lowest floor currently only had access for Hong Fei and Frank.

The lighting here was bright, and the air circulation was smooth. A straight path led to a hall of over a hundred square meters. A circle of gray sofas surrounded the white tiled floor, enough for dozens of people to sit together.

Around the hall were individual rooms. Currently, apart from the food and weapon storage rooms, most were empty.

He entered the password and walked into the weapon storage. Rows of metal shelves were neatly arranged. On the shelves in front were all sorts of thermal weapons, from ammunition and daggers to uniforms and artillery, everything was there.

These items were all newly purchased. The previous batch of supplies had been left in Sokovia and could still be used outside, so there was no need to waste energy bringing them back.

However, the two batches of goods had some similarities.

For example, that 120mm mortar.

Hong Fei had used this thing twice and had some trust in it.

After all, he couldn't get anything bigger right now.

Patting the barrel, Hong Fei smacked his lips, his eyes clearly not satisfied.

For justice and truth, one must pursue larger calibers and longer ranges.

Passing by, he entered the deepest part of the warehouse. On a black shelf lay over ten straight sabers. They looked unremarkable, with plain black hilts, guards, and scabbards. If not drawn, they might have been mistaken for swords.

Grabbing one at random, Hong Fei turned and left.

Returning to the surface, he bumped into Frank just as he exited the building.

"What's this?"

Hong Fei: "Perfect timing. You shoot, and I'll test if it's hard enough."

Frank immediately shook his head. "I don't have time."

"Don't mess around."

He dragged the reluctant Frank to an open area. Hong Fei drew his saber, its clear, sharp blade reflecting the falling snow.

Holding the saber with both hands, blade pointing forward.

"Come on."

Frank glanced at the distance. "Should I step back a few more paces?"

They were about ten meters apart. Hong Fei shook his head. "No need. How many bullets do you have?"

"17."

"Shoot them all."

Frank nodded and drew the pistol from his waist.

"Ready?"

Hong Fei nodded silently.

As the muzzle pointed at him and Frank's finger on the trigger, Hong Fei immediately activated the Shinigami Eye.

Casings ejected, bullets spiraled forward, and the air rippled with compression, especially noticeable against the backdrop of falling snow.

A flash of saber light, and the sharp edge met the projectile dead center.

After splitting the bullet in two, Hong Fei examined the blade. It was undamaged.

Then, the bang bang bang of gunfire erupted. The saber danced before him, a blur of afterimages, seemingly impenetrable. Each bullet was sliced apart.

Between each swing, Hong Fei took the time to check the blade.

On the twelfth strike, the edge chipped for the first time.

Hong Fei consciously tried to vary the point of contact between the saber and each bullet. However, by the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth shots, the entire saber seemed to reach its limit. The fragments that chipped off grew larger with each impact.

After the seventeenth shot, Hong Fei was about to stop when another bullet unexpectedly fired from Frank's pistol.

He quickly rotated his wrist, changing the slash into a thrust. The sharp tip precisely struck the incoming bullet.

Clang!

The bullet embedded itself into the saber's tip, and the blade vibrated with a hum.

Hong Fei tightened his grip, channeling power into the saber to dissipate the vibration.

Closing the Shinigami Eye, he glared at Frank.

Frank, however, casually holstered his pistol, hands on his hips. With an arrogant expression, he said, "Let me teach you something. The capacity of a magazine doesn't always represent the total number of enemy bullets. Remember to chamber one next time. The extra one might save your life."

Hong Fei wasn't impressed.

"Is that supposed to be sophisticated? Movies have shown that hundreds of times. I think you're just picking a fight on purpose."

Frank's lips curled into a silent smile.