Testing the Blade

In the snow, Hong Fei stared unblinkingly at Bullseye, who had yet to breathe his last.

Frank said, "Another kind of Kung Fu I've never seen."

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

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

It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes." Hong Fei admitted it readily.

If he had not wanted to bring Bullseye under his command, he would not have held back his strength, speed, and other advantages while fighting him.

What had just happened was less a fight than Hong Fei deliberately reviewing and reinforcing his own fundamentals while feeding Bullseye moves.

This had continued for over a hundred rounds, and Bullseye had indeed improved.

However, the outcome was clearly disappointing.

By now, the snow around Bullseye had been stained red with blood. Aside from his lips opening and closing unconsciously, he made no further movements.

Seeing his miserable state, the muscles in Frank's face twitched three times. Shaking his head, he said, "I actually believed you'd let him go last night."

"You don't understand. Aren't I personally sending him off now?"

Frank rolled his eyes.

If Bullseye had been in a more normal state of mind, Hong Fei might, just might, have actually let him leave.

But faced with an unruly, insane assassin and mercenary with a certain degree of strength, Hong Fei would never let him walk away alive after learning his true identity.

Who knew whether Bullseye would run straight to the police or media and expose his real identity the moment he left?

Today's final battle had also been Bullseye's final chance.

If Bullseye had shown even the slightest sign of being normal and controllable, Hong Fei would not have struck so mercilessly. Perhaps his mental illness could even have been cured by magic or something in the future.

But what had just happened made everything abundantly clear.

Hong Fei did not believe he could fathom a madman's thoughts, nor could he monitor Bullseye's actions at all times. There was even less reason to trouble himself over Bullseye.

A month of imprisoning and beating Bullseye had increased his energy considerably.

But he was certain that killing Bullseye would improve his physical attributes.

Sure enough, when Bullseye swallowed his last breath, Hong Fei felt a tiny improvement in his physical attributes.

What Hong Fei cared about more, however, was the glowing green card that rose from Bullseye's corpse.

He stepped forward, grabbed it, and casually tossed Bullseye to Frank. "Get him a grave. Put it on my tab."

Frank nodded, shouldered the corpse, and carried it to the door, where he 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."

It was a barely useful skill. It might come in handy at certain times.

Over the course of a month, he had defeated Bullseye a total of two hundred and ten times. He had gained two white Skill Cards on the first night, and the one before him was the third.

That was precisely why Hong Fei's interest in Bullseye had dwindled. During the latter half of the month, he had only gone to see him once every few days.

So now another question arose.

Did killing a target guarantee a Skill Card drop?

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

There were too few samples and no basis for comparison. He could not reach a definite answer.

He got up, left the room, and took the elevator straight underground.

The space beneath the manor had been expanded into three levels. Each was three meters high and covered more than three thousand square meters. If the construction crew had not believed that making it larger might affect the main building, Hong Fei would have made it even bigger and deeper.

At present, only Hong Fei and Frank had permission to enter the lowest level.

The place was brightly lit and well ventilated. A straight corridor led to a hall spanning more than a hundred square meters. Gray sofas encircled the white-tiled floor, enough to seat dozens of people together.

Independent rooms surrounded the hall. Aside from the food storage room and weapons storage room, most of them were still empty.

After entering the password, he went into the weapons storage room. Rows of metal racks stood in neat formation, their front sections piled with all kinds of firearms—from ammunition and daggers to clothing and artillery. Everything was there.

All of this had been newly purchased. The previous batch of supplies had been left in Sokovia, where they could still be used later. There was no need to waste effort bringing them back.

Still, the two shipments had some similarities.

For example, that 120-millimeter Mortar.

Hong Fei had used the thing twice and had developed a bit of trust in it.

After all, he could not get anything bigger at the moment.

He patted the barrel, smacked his lips, and his expression was clearly dissatisfied.

For justice and truth, one had to pursue a larger caliber and longer range.

Passing onward, he entered the deepest part of the storage room. More than a dozen straight Horizontal Blades lay on a black rack. Nothing about their appearance stood out. Their handles, guards, and even scabbards were plain black. If they were not drawn, they would probably be mistaken for swords.

Hong Fei casually picked one up and turned to leave.

When he returned to the surface and stepped outside, he happened to run into Frank.

"What's that?"

"Perfect timing," Hong Fei said. "You shoot. I'll see whether it's hard enough."

Frank immediately shook his head. "I'm busy."

"Quit messing around."

He dragged the unwilling Frank all the way to an open area. Hong Fei drew the blade, its cold, sharp surface clearly reflecting the snowflakes falling from the sky.

He gripped the blade with both hands, the edge pointed forward.

"Come on."

Frank looked at the distance between them. "Should I take a few more steps back?"

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

"Seventeen."

"Fire them all."

Frank nodded and drew the pistol from his waist.

"Ready?"

Hong Fei silently nodded.

The muzzle was aimed directly at him. Seeing Frank's index finger settle on the trigger, Hong Fei immediately activated Shinigami Eye.

The casing flew out, the bullet spiraled forward, and ripples spread through the compressed air. Against the backdrop of falling snow, it was especially conspicuous.

The blade flashed, its edge striking the target dead-on.

The bullet split in two. Hong Fei glanced at the blade and saw no damage.

Then, gunshots rang out in rapid succession. The Horizontal Blade danced before him, leaving trails of afterimages as though not even water could pass through, while one bullet after another was cleaved apart.

Between every strike, Hong Fei took the time to inspect the blade's edge.

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

Hong Fei deliberately controlled the point of contact between each strike and bullet so that none were the same. Yet by the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth strikes, the entire blade seemed to have reached its limit, with larger fragments breaking off each time.

After the seventeenth strike, Hong Fei was about to stop when another bullet suddenly burst from Frank's pistol.

With a swift twist of his wrist, his slash became a straight thrust, and the sharp tip precisely struck the bullet.

Clang!

The bullet pierced into the tip, and the blade immediately began to hum and tremble.

Hong Fei loosened and clenched his grip, sending Qi through the blade and directly dispelling its tremors.

He deactivated Shinigami Eye and immediately glared at Frank.

But Frank nonchalantly holstered his pistol, then put his hands on his hips and said with an aloof expression, "Here's another lesson for you. A magazine's capacity does not always represent the enemy's total number of bullets. Remember to chamber one in the future. That extra round might save your life."

Hong Fei did not appreciate it.

"Is that supposed to be advanced? They've shown it hundreds of times in movies. You were obviously just trying to mess with me."

Frank's mouth curled into a grin, and he smiled silently.