Possession Card: Zabuza Momochi

Mike went to the garage, lifted a floorboard, and revealed the entrance to the basement.

This was Mike's secret base, used to store illegal items such as guns and ammunition.

"When will I get a spatial ring?" Mike dreamed of having absurdly good luck.

[Fantasy Manifestation] was based on Mike's knowledge from two lifetimes, so the things obtained from [Soul Fruit] came in every conceivable variety.

There were ordinary items, such as sharp katanas, Vampire cloaks, Anbu Masks, handmade wooden clogs, and so on.

There were also special items, such as enchantment cards, magic scrolls, Explosive Tags, healing potions, and so on.

The system came with a System Space that could only store system items, and it was only one cubic meter in size. It was not enough, so Mike needed a secret base.

Mike cleared out the things in the System Space that he did not need, making room.

Then he loaded it with pistols, submachine guns, grenades, magazines, katanas, daggers, ropes, and more.

Most of it would probably never be used, but it was better to have it sitting there. Better than not having it when he needed it.

By the time he left the underground base and returned to the supermarket, it was already dusk.

At this hour, patrolling cops began treading carefully, seeing gang members in everyone. After midnight, Hell's Kitchen belonged to criminals. Unless someone called the police, the cops would never leave the station. To them, the night was just as dangerous.

Old Earl winked at Mike and said, "Boss, that blonde chick left. She gave you this message."

Mike took the tissue Old Earl handed him. On it was a string of phone numbers and a luscious lipstick print, showing that Jennifer had been very satisfied with Mike's "pile-driving service" and wanted another round.

"So what was her name again?" Mike muttered as he saved Jennifer's number. He had been quite satisfied with Jennifer too—beautiful face, great body, the right attitude, and skilled technique.

They had gotten along very well.

"By the way, Old Earl, got anything to do tonight?" Mike asked.

"No." Old Earl shook his head.

"Oh, then you're working overtime tonight." Mike did not explain why.

"Alright." Old Earl nodded, looking thoughtful.

"Also, don't go home tonight. Stay at the supermarket. After closing, lock the doors and windows immediately. No matter what you hear, don't open the door," Mike instructed.

"Mm."

Old Earl understood. Mike had something planned tonight.

After giving a few more instructions, Mike left and went to [Old Zhou Chinese Restaurant].

"One special Yangzhou fried rice and one beef pho, both to go," Mike ordered smoothly.

"Alright."

Little Zhou, Old Zhou's son, smiled sincerely.

Mike's presence had greatly improved public safety in the area, and most people knew how to be grateful.

Mike sat in a chair and took out his phone to message Jennifer.

[Did you get home safely, cupcake?]

[I did.]

[You were sleeping so soundly that I didn't wake you. When you left, I happened to be out handling something. Sorry I couldn't take you home.]

[Mike, you're such a gentleman.]

[Note 1: Nicknamed the "Demon of the Hidden Mist," the second wielder of the Executioner's Blade. Skilled in Water Release and the Silent Killing Technique. True to his name, he never needed to kill twice.]

[Note 2: This card does not come with the Executioner's Blade. Please collect it yourself.]

"Use card."

Mike held the card between his fingers and silently commanded it in his heart.

The card turned into specks of light and vanished. A strange power filled every limb and bone in his body, making him groan in pleasure.

"So this is power... No wonder humanity pursued it so tirelessly. It feels incredible."

Ding!

The text notification startled Mike out of his fascination. The message informed him that the bank had automatically deducted US dollars.

Mike: oo

Not to mention that Old Earl did not have twenty thousand US dollars—even if he did, after deducting the cost of the Possession Card and the system's commission, how much would be left?

One thousand US dollars!

So after all that hard work, he had been working for the system.

Mike left the building through the window, leaping and running across rooftops and along the sides of buildings.

Mike wore a half-mask purely out of caution.

Hell's Kitchen had almost no outdoor surveillance cameras. After all, any camera installed would definitely be destroyed within an hour, so they simply stopped installing them.

Hell's Kitchen sat along the edge of Manhattan Island, with the Hudson River to the west. There were many small piers along the shore.

One of the Foot Gang's bases was in a warehouse at one of those small piers. The warehouse had a steel-frame structure, stood five meters tall, and covered roughly a thousand square meters.

A few minutes later, Mike appeared on the warehouse roof.

The warehouse was brightly lit and divided into four areas.

The eastern area was where Foot Gang members lived and entertained themselves. It reeked of foul and fishy odors, the typical style of a drug den.

The southern area was a drug manufacturing facility. It was filled with chemical equipment, and a group of "workers" wearing only underwear and gas masks bustled about while two burly armed men watched them like hawks.

The western area held a pile of cages containing many people—men, women, old people, children, people of every skin color and ethnicity. These people had paid to be smuggled into the United States, only to be imprisoned by the Foot Gang and extorted for the remaining payment.

Those who paid were allowed to leave.

Those who did not pay—

Some were assigned to work as drug makers in the western area. Under shoddy protection and intense labor, many did not live to see the day they repaid their "debts."

Young, attractive women and men were often forced to sell their bodies.

The northern area was a warehouse containing weapons, packaged drugs, and miscellaneous items.

A shipping container caught Mike's attention.

The container was sealed, yet Mike, standing on the roof, could still smell a heavy stench of blood. It might have been related to Zabuza Momochi's keen sense of smell as a top-tier ninja.

With a thought, Mike concentrated chakra beneath his feet and silently walked down the wall.

The container door was slightly ajar, with a plastic strip curtain hanging over it.

After only one glance, the usually calm Mike was immediately consumed by boundless fury.

Inside the container was a stainless-steel bed. A male corpse was tied to it, his abdomen cut open. His face was grotesquely twisted by pain and terror. His organs had been removed while he was still alive and without anesthesia.

He had been a worker who had died from overwork in the western area. The Foot Gang called it: making use of waste.

Two people in white coats stood inside the container.

"Who are you..."

"Hey..."

Their voices abruptly stopped.

A cold flash traced an arc through the air and vanished.

Mike shook the blood from his long blade, his face as dark as water.