Blade Was Surprisingly Chatty

Working for the System in Marvel

The appeal of spicy hot pot was that even as it made you gasp and wheeze from the heat, you still could not bear to put down your chopsticks.

Spiciness was not a taste. It was pain.

And pain was addictive!

That was why loving spicy food and BDSM were basically the same principle.

A digression.

Mike chose to "hide out" in a Foot Gang warehouse. The Foot Gang case had not been closed, and after the police finished collecting evidence, they simply sealed the place off and left it alone. White outlines still marked the positions and poses of the bodies on the floor.

Mike had no idea when the Vampires would come for him, so he simply moved his hot pot equipment over. He was not the least bit nervous about the coming battle.

Mike glanced at Blade and asked, "How did you find this place?"

Blade did not answer Mike's question. Instead, he asked, "You know me?"

"Of course."

Mike replied, "Since I chose to go against Vampires, I naturally had to gather intelligence on them. Your reputation among Vampires is infamous. Should I call you Blade, or Daywalker?"

"Daywalker. I prefer that name." Blade actually paused to consider it seriously.

"Okay, Blade." Mike reused an old joke. "Have a seat. Want something to eat?"

Blade was half-human and half-Vampire, and he had little desire for human food. Besides—the bright-red broth in the pot was boiling and churning. Was that really food, rather than some kind of chemical weapon?

"No, I'll pass."

Blade refused decisively. "But aren't you worried at all?"

"Would worrying help?"

"No."

"Then there you go."

"But..."

"No buts, Blade."

Mike cut Blade off. "You have too many questions. Out of politeness, you should answer mine first."

"Vampires are my prey, and you are the Vampires' prey. So..."

"The mantis stalks the cicada, while the oriole waits behind?"

"Sorry, but—yes. As for how I found you... I caught one of Deacon Frost's men. I have considerable experience 'communicating' with Vampires, and Deacon's men aren't exactly hard-boned. After I reasoned with him a little, he told me everything you wanted to know." Blade glanced outside the warehouse. "If nothing unexpected happens, Deacon and his men will surround this place within fifteen minutes. So if you want to leave, there's still time."

He talked a little too much, which did not match Mike's impression of Blade. But the man had come to warn him and save him, so what was wrong with saying a few extra words?

Favorability +1.

"Twenty minutes," Mike said abruptly.

"What?" Blade was completely baffled.

"I mean, the Vampires will need at least twenty minutes to get here." Mike smiled as he explained, "This is Hell's Kitchen, where demons and monsters run wild. Are Vampires that impressive? They're marching aggressively onto someone else's turf. Do the other gangs not care about saving face?"

They would either fight or negotiate.

Mike guessed it would be the latter.

The Vampires had set up their factory in Hell's Kitchen, which meant they had either cooperated with the local gangs or reached some kind of agreement.

Either way, it would take time.

"Hahaha, interesting..." Mike burst into laughter.

Fucked-up Hell's Kitchen.

Blade: The situation was not unfolding as he had expected.

First, the prey being hunted by Vampires was casually eating spicy hot pot in a warehouse.

Then, the prey did not show the slightest fear.

That made Blade think of a possibility. Behind his sunglasses, his gaze sharpened.

As if he had guessed Blade's thoughts, Mike said, "That's right, I leaked the information myself. Who is the hunter and who is the prey is not certain yet. Really not having any? Authentic China spicy hot pot..."

Mike did not forget to promote China's cuisine.

Blade: "..."

Looking at the boiling red broth, for one moment, he actually wondered whether he should give it a try.

"What a terrifying thought."

Blade decided to shift his attention and noticed the two swords propped against the sofa.

"Are those your weapons?"

Two silver katanas, sponsored by Fat Jerry. Together with the Nichirin Sword in his system space, that made exactly three.

"Yeah." Mike said, "I'm a Three-Sword Style swordsman."

Blade:

A Three-Sword Style swordsman?

That was the first time he had heard of one.

And there were only two swords. Where did the Three-Sword Style come from?

Blade fell silent for two seconds, then changed his original plan. "I can stay and help."

"No, no, don't. There's no need!"

Mike hurriedly refused Blade's offer.

The commission to rescue Lisa had already ended. Dealing with Deacon was after-sales service Mike was paying for out of pocket—though Fat Jerry's ridiculous maneuver meant Mike would not lose money and might even make a small profit.

Still, using a Possession Card to farm some more experience along the way sounded good.

Blade did not know whether Mike was confident or simply arrogant, but he had never been the sort of superhero who said, "I'm doing this for your own good, so you have to let me help."

He gave Mike a long look, said, "I hope you survive," and left the warehouse.

His words still showed that he did not think highly of Mike's chances.

Blade had hunted Deacon for many years and knew him quite well. Deacon was only decent in a fight, but he was extremely cunning and rarely showed himself in public. Whenever combat broke out, he always sent his underlings in first. If he had the advantage, he would stay behind and taunt his opponents, launch sneak attacks, and flee the instant things looked bad, selling out his underlings without batting an eye.

After leaving the warehouse, Blade did not actually go far. Instead, he hid in the shadows as planned.

More than twenty minutes later, several cars sped into the dockyard district and screeched to a halt outside the warehouse. Their tires scraped against the ground with a teeth-grating sound, leaving long streaks behind.

Mike glanced outside and calmly took out two cards. "Use cards."

More than fifty Vampires got out of the vehicles, looking like a gathering of gangsters. Dressed in a suit and leather shoes, Deacon Frost stepped forward, every inch the boss of Causeway Bay.

With a wave of Deacon's hand, the Vampires behind him moved around both sides of the warehouse. Seven or eight others followed behind him as he leisurely entered the building.

The moment he saw Mike, Deacon recalled the composite portrait Sansa had made. He only wanted to curse: Was this really the same person?

He only regretted that Sansa was dead, leaving him unable to kill her again.

Yet Deacon instantly knew he had the right man.

There was no fear in Mike's eyes, only a hint of unreadable amusement. It made Deacon irritated, furious—

Human, why weren't you afraid!

You should be afraid!

You had to be afraid!

Then crawl humbly at the feet of the noble bloodline and beg for mercy.

"Is that you?"

"That's right, it's me. You shouldn't have come..."

"Kill him!"

Deacon shouted the order, forgetting his earlier plan to capture Mike and slowly torture him.

"Tch."

Mike had wanted to make a Gu Long joke, but these people refused to play along. Bad review!

Four Vampires lunged at Mike from four directions.

Shing!

The two silver katanas left their sheaths.

Blade light flashed, carving two arcs through the air and effortlessly slicing the four Vampires into black ash.

Mike smiled. "One comes, I kill one. Two come, I kill a pair. Four come, I kill two squared..."

Deacon did not give Mike a chance to keep showing off. He took a submachine gun from one of his men and sprayed bullets wildly at Mike.

Mike closed his eyes, sensing through Observation Haki, then suddenly opened them.

In that instant, Deacon felt as though he had been locked onto by a brilliantly striped tiger, while he himself was a little white rabbit trembling beneath the tiger's gaze.

Mike held a sword in each hand and spun them before himself in an impenetrable blur, cutting every bullet in half.

Clang, clang, clang...

"How is that possible?!"

Deacon stared in disbelief.

So the question was: could Blade cut bullets with his sword?

The answer was no!

Yet Blade, who could not cut bullets, still hunted Vampires alone.

Deacon understood. It was time for another strategic retreat—and time to sell out his underlings.