Skill: Death Coil

Seeing the hunting dogs gradually closing in, Smith came up with a plan. He pulled a diaper out from beneath the baby's butt. It was stained with something the Dog Pack loved, and the smell was a little pungent. He could use it as bait to lure the dogs away and make his escape.

Just as Smith was about to start smearing shit around, an engine roared at the mouth of the alley. He had assumed the other side had brought reinforcements, but a pistol suddenly extended from a car window and emptied an entire magazine at the suited men.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Fifteen bullets were sprayed out in mere seconds. The suited men had not expected Smith to have accomplices, and the shots from behind caught them squarely. The alley was so narrow that even two people could barely walk side by side. After that burst, seven or eight men dropped on the spot.

The dead were one thing, but the survivors naturally howled in pain. Even the Short Leader had not expected this; he had always thought Smith was a lone wolf.

The group scrambled for cover. By the time they looked back, the engine noise outside the alley had already faded away.

The Dog Pack barked madly at the gunshots. None of them dared show themselves, afraid of getting shot from behind again. Their prediction was correct—Smith suddenly popped out and fired, killing five men with five bullets.

Caught between attacks from both sides, the group abandoned their endlessly wailing companions amid the Short Leader's curses and fled miserably around the alley corner.

The engine outside the alley started up again, this time from another direction. The Short Leader threatened them with his gun, but no one was willing to rush out and die. Only after the engine noise disappeared did they cautiously emerge, only to find that their target, Smith, had vanished.

"Shit!"

Fury flickered in the Short Leader's eyes. He punched the wall beside him, then, face flushing red, secretly hid his hand behind his back and rubbed it.

That punch wouldn't do anything to a mere crumbling cement wall, but my hand would hurt like hell.

The Ford F-150 drove down the road at night. Russell was behind the wheel, Smith sat in the passenger seat, and Quintana sat in the back holding the baby.

The car was a little quiet. Russell held the steering wheel and took the initiative to ask, "Smith?"

"Who are you?"

Smith's attitude was cold. He showed no gratitude at having been rescued; even without Russell, he could have left safely. He had that kind of ability.

"My name is Russell. This is my letter of introduction."

Russell took a letter from his jacket pocket. Smith accepted it, and only after reading it did the wariness in his eyes ease somewhat.

The specially made threaded bullets made Smith smile knowingly. "How has Cross been lately?"

"To be honest, not very well. His son was kidnapped... by the company he quit."

"Heh, that company is in trouble now!"

Russell shrugged at that. Was that just empty bragging?

Smith sat upright, the words 'putting on airs' written all over his cold face. "For Cross's sake, I agree to train you for a week. But not now. I have to settle the matter at hand first."

Russell politely said, "Do you need my help?"

"No. It's a minor problem. I can handle it alone."

After saying that, Smith closed his eyes to rest. The man was clearly exhausted, yet he still tried to maintain a tough front.

Russell knew his place. Smith was not putting on a show for him; he was doing it to reassure the woman in the back seat. Russell glanced at the rearview mirror. She was a very charming woman, and the more he looked at her, the more familiar she seemed.

Holy shit, isn't that my goddess?

The woman's face bore an eighty-percent resemblance to Monica Bellucci's, and her figure was just as smoking hot. Unfortunately, her makeup was nowhere near as stunning, and the pungent cheap perfume made it hard to connect her to his goddess.

In the rearview mirror, Quintana noticed Russell studying her. Her lips curled as she gave him a flirtatious wink, then casually opened her clothes and began breastfeeding the awakened baby.

Russell moved his gaze away with a pained expression. This temperament, this behavior—she was nothing like the goddess in his heart.

After encountering Smith, who could take on dozens by himself, Russell had suspected he might have entered another story world. But after meeting Quintana, who wore his goddess's face, he immediately removed the word 'might.'

This was definitely a new instance. He just did not know which movie it belonged to. Forgive Russell, but he had no impression of it at all. His only memories of his goddess were Malèna and The Matrix.

Obviously, it was neither of those!

**Ding!**

Host has come into contact with story character Smith, triggering the Lottery Draw. You have obtained two lottery chances. Draw now?

Host has come into contact with story character Donna Quintana, triggering the Lottery Draw. Draw now?

Hearing the prompt in his mind, Russell immediately responded and opened the interface to begin drawing. Just like Big Slick before him, Smith gave him two lottery chances. As for Donna Quintana, it could only be said that a goddess's face was not for nothing—she had actually given him one lottery chance as well.

Cross had not triggered even a single lottery draw!

After the three consecutive draws, the cards Russell received left him unsure how to complain.

Item Card: Carrot (Eating more vegetables is good for your physical and mental health.)

Skill Card: One Hundred Percent Accuracy (Your enemies have only one weakness: insufficient ammunition.)

Smith had provided two cards. The One Hundred Percent Accuracy Skill Card looked incredibly impressive, and Russell was eager to try it out. But there was a high chance it was single-use. To avoid wasting it, he could only admire it for now.

As for the carrot...

Russell did not want to comment. He looked at One Hundred Percent Accuracy and treated it as a consolation prize.

The third card filled Russell with the world's utter malice just from looking at it.

Skill Card: Death Coil (An upgraded version of entwined roots.)

Russell: "..."

My goddess, what exactly did you do in this world to become so proficient that the system recognized it as a skill?

And what the hell use is this card to me?

In a foul mood, the Ford drove into the city and stopped in a hotel's parking lot. Then something even worse happened: Smith was broke, so Russell had to pay for the rooms. He booked three rooms, but one ultimately went unused.

Quintana said she did not feel safe alone, so she carried the baby and followed Smith into his room. The moment the door closed, Russell's face twitched.

"I paid for that..."

Speechless, Russell opened the door to the room next door and collapsed onto the bed, ready to sleep. He had driven all day and was mentally exhausted.

He did not know how long he slept before he vaguely heard an unusual sound. He narrowed his eyes and quietly climbed out of bed. The sound came from next door—Smith's room—and Russell immediately tensed. Had the two of them been attacked?

Russell moved carefully, making as little noise as possible. He pressed his ear to the wall. The hotel's soundproofing was mediocre, and waves of miserable cries, like someone being tortured, came through.

Russell rolled his eyes and cursed the shameless pair. Making that much noise in the middle of the night—did the neighbors not have work tomorrow?

The maddening moans by his ear drove away his sleepiness. Russell splashed cold water on his face and checked the M9 he carried. At that moment, a warning of danger suddenly rose in his heart. The room door was violently kicked open, and Men in Black wearing special combat gear rushed inside.

Bang!

Russell shot one of the Men in Black in the chest. Without even looking, he turned and fired again. The glass window shattered. A Man in Black descending on a rope outside the window screamed and fell from midair.

A dull thud came from below, and the scream abruptly stopped!

At the same time, gunfire erupted from the room next door. Russell sucked in a cold breath and lunged forward, dropping flat on the ground.

The hotel's wooden walls were riddled with bullets. Russell crawled to the door, but there was not a soul in the hallway. Clearly, they had all gone after Smith.

Smith was fast. By the time Russell reached his door, the fight inside was already over.

"Smith!?"

"Okay, I know it's you. Don't make a sound. I can recognize your footsteps."

The brief exchange avoided unnecessary gunfire. Russell strode into the room and saw the shameless pair embracing. Quintana had both arms around Smith's neck, and even when Russell entered, she showed no intention of letting go.

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