Simon might have seemed easy to deal with.
But if he hadn't wanted to see who Baba Yaga was, even the men in that hallway would have taken some effort.
John patted Matt on the shoulder and kindly reminded him, "How are you planning to get out, Daredevil?"
"Don't call me that," Matt said, taking a deep breath. His mind was every bit as sharp as his nose.
He had never imagined that one day he would expose his own identity.
"You're not going to tell anyone who I am, right?"
Matt 'looked' at John. Fortunately, he had knocked everyone else out before speaking.
John grinned. "Of course not, my dear lawyer."
The more he said things like that, the more uneasy Matt felt.
He even considered taking John out too.
Then he remembered how John had dealt with Simon.
Anyone who could drive a pencil straight through a palm and pin it to a desk was strong enough that Matt couldn't be sure of beating him.
If he failed, the consequences would be endless.
In the end, Matt abandoned the idea.
He turned toward Simon's office. "Follow me."
Curious to see what he would do, John followed.
Back in the office, Matt tapped his cane, sending out a sound that echoed back to his ears.
An image formed in his mind. He went to the window, smashed the glass with his cane, then picked up the ashtray on the desk and threw it down.
The ashtray shattered on the ground, its scattered glass fragments bouncing outward and conveying a larger image to Matt.
"Jump down from here."
Matt's white cane concealed a mechanism that fired a grappling hook onto the windowsill.
"Hurry! They're coming!"
He heard the door opening and urged John on.
John glanced back at the men who had appeared in the hallway, then sent the pencil in his hand flying.
A bloody hole appeared in the first man's head as he came through the door.
His body fell.
The men behind him hastily stopped.
John took a running start, grabbed Matt's cane, and slid swiftly down.
Matt was about to grab the line when he heard bullets pouring in behind him. Without hesitating, he rolled sideways behind the desk as bullets chipped the wall. The first man to charge inside was the doorman.
He held a Claw Knife, sweeping it past Matt's cheek with a bloody gust.
This man had taken at least ten lives.
Matt could tell from the smell clinging to the Claw Knife.
Reacting quickly, he snatched up the pen holder and threw it at him, then planted a foot on the wall and vaulted out of the corner.
With their positions reversed, Matt had lost his chance to use the window. His only option was to force his way through the hallway.
An assassin stood behind him, and more than a dozen professional thugs waited ahead.
Their brief exchange had already told Matt that the assassin was no weakling.
He decisively chose the thugs.
Their footsteps and shouts were the perfect weapons for his counterattack.
A map of the hallway formed in his mind. He kicked the thug ahead of him in the stomach, caught an incoming baton with his other hand, wrenched it away, and struck a third man across the neck.
It wasn't his white cane, but with a baton in hand, Matt's fighting power improved noticeably.
He swung it in a blur, fighting his way from the far end to the entrance in just ten seconds.
After confirming his boss was dead, the assassin chased him furiously. Matt flung the baton backward, but the assassin dodged.
Matt opened the door.
The sound of bullets leaving their barrels reached his ears.
Without hesitating, he dove aside, rolled across the floor, and stamped his heel hard against it.
The sound brought the layout of the entire second floor into his mind.
"Damn it, it's completely sealed."
He cursed under his breath. The second floor was off-limits to customers, so Simon had sealed it off completely. Aside from his window, there was no other exit.
The assassin's footsteps drew closer.
Matt had no choice but to try somewhere else.
He rushed toward the stairs he had come up, and gunmen opened fire.
Practically none of them could hit him.
He was fast and agile, but the instant his foot touched the stairs-
The image he had constructed began to shake.
It was the music.
Manic music kept forcing its way into his ears.
Pain twisted his face. He missed a step and tumbled down the stairs.
Seeing the nimble monkey from moments ago become a sloth sprawled on the floor, the assassin sneered and approached step by step.
"Where'd all that agility go?" He spun the Claw Knife in his hand, gripped it, and lunged at Matt in a few quick strides.
Matt barely managed to stabilize the image within two meters of himself. Every blast of music made it tremble.
It left him scrambling to dodge.
The assassin kicked him into the crowd. None of the customers, already high on drugs, would call the police.
They merely screamed and shouted, continuing to writhe their youthful bodies while rotting rapidly within.
They laughed, just like the name of this place.
Hell Paradise.
The pleasure of depravity made people lose themselves.
The assassin fought dirty, attacking Matt relentlessly while his own senses worked normally.
Like a cat about to devour its prey, he toyed with this mouse.
Matt fell in the middle of the dance floor, where the music was loudest.
"Tell me, who sent you to kill him?"
The assassin's eyes were red. "You have no idea how great he was. He's the reason I have what I have today."
"He saved me when I was starving to death."
"It was you! You killed him!"
The assassin had deep feelings for Simon, who had raised him.
Life had been hard, but he would never forget who had let him survive that hellish slum.
His own mistake had gotten his boss killed.
The assassin drove the Claw Knife into Matt's abdomen and snarled, "I'm going to cut you open and pull out your organs!"
The thrilling spectacle of murder unfolding before them-
Made this banquet of ecstasy even more frenzied.
Someone stuck out their tongue, like a vampire impatient to drink blood.
Matt grabbed the assassin with one hand, stopping him from moving any farther.
But the frenzy of sound only made his pain worse.
He had never expected to go down here. If only he had his cane, or they were somewhere else.
He was sure he could have ripped this assassin's guts out.
But none of the advantages were his.
Amid the pounding noise, heavy alcohol fumes, and sensual atmosphere, his hearing and sense of smell had lost their usefulness.
The assassin slammed his other fist into Matt's face, then kept pounding him.
Even with a constitution stronger than an ordinary person's, Matt was nearly unconscious.
With no resistance left, the assassin gripped the Claw Knife and let out a savage roar as he stabbed at Matt.
Blood splashed. Screams and manic rhythms made this place of cavorting monsters seem like hell itself.
Matt thought he was done for, but the pain he expected never came.
The splattered blood dripped into his mouth and onto his face.
He reached up and touched it: warm blood, with its pungent, metallic smell.
The assassin opened his mouth wide, making a hollow wheezing sound.
His heartbeat grew fainter.
His hand remained raised as he struggled to turn his eyes.
The pencil buried in his neck was taking his life.
He saw black hair. That silent approach had gone unnoticed even by an assassin.
With the last of his strength, the assassin uttered a single phrase.
"Baba Yaga."
Only now did he finally understand what John had meant.
Baba Yaga had come.
The pencil was pulled free, and blood gushed out in a spectacular fountain.
The assassin fell utterly silent, his blood exciting the lunatics in the bar.
John glanced at the approaching gunmen and thugs, handed Matt his cane, and asked, "Can you still move?"
"Why did you come back?" Matt felt the cane, surprised by John's return.
John twirled the blood-dripping pencil until it stopped at his fingertips. He smiled. "I don't leave my lawyer behind."
He had circled around and entered through the front door. Who knew where the doorman had gone?
Matt didn't know what to say. John had caused all this in the first place.
He pushed himself up with his cane, the deafening music keeping his brow furrowed.
"How many are coming?" he asked John.
John counted. "Twenty-something, I guess. This place doesn't look big, but there are plenty of people."
Matt's expression grew grave. "We need to leave now. This place is terrible for me."
"Wait here," John said.
Then he walked toward the DJ, who was still mixing tracks, smiled, and kicked him away.
He pressed the stop button, and the sound vanished.
Matt froze.
"Why not just turn off the music?" John said casually.
Sure, that makes sense, but I meant you should run!
Even if he could dodge bullets, with that many guns, one would eventually hit him.
Not to mention there was hardly any cover here.
The music stopped, and the frenzied crowd woke from the pleasures of Hell Paradise.
They saw the corpse, then Matt covered in blood.
Screams rang out, this time in terror.
The crowd surged outside. Apart from those too high to care, everyone in the bar trampled over one another in their desperate rush.
In the rooms on the second floor-
Several people came out.
They showed no alarm at Simon's death, merely looking down at the scene below.
"Who are they?"
"A lawyer and a... high school student?"
An elderly woman discussed it with someone, her gaze settling on John.
John sensed her gaze and casually looked up.
Compared with Matt's mood at that moment, John seemed perfectly relaxed.
He rolled his neck and asked, "If I take care of everyone here, can you handle the trouble for me?"
"What?" Matt asked instinctively. "What trouble?"
"The police, obviously."
John smiled faintly, his pupils contracting.
"I don't want to go to the Police Station."
As the words left his mouth, John leaped.
He jumped from the first floor to the second.
That jumping ability could easily have won him an Olympic championship.
Then, on the second floor, he flicked his left hand.
The Wand slid into his palm, and he raised an eyebrow.
He waved the Wand, sending a peculiar ripple spreading outward.
Every weapon in the gunmen's hands fell apart.
John began his performance, closing his right hand.
The three gunmen near him were crushed together, their bones making a teeth-grating sound.
He began to walk.
Anyone standing in his way fell.
The guests on the second floor paled.
One man tried to run, but a beam of red light shot from John's wand, leaving him rigid before he collapsed.
Only the old woman remained relatively calm as everyone else on the second floor fell.
John looked at the old woman and asked casually, "You don't seem surprised."
The old woman replied respectfully, "Of course, honored Wizard. I have no wish to be your enemy."
"That's not up to you."
A flash of white light burst from John's wand.
The old woman's eyes grew unfocused, but a surge of energy welled up from her body, trying to resist.
John gave her a surprised look, then cast Obliviate again.
That power was suppressed.
John headed down from the second floor.
He had dealt with everyone in Hell Paradise.
Matt stood there, watching John quietly, and asked, "Who exactly are you?"
John held out his hand. "Let me borrow your phone."
Matt handed over his phone, and John dialed a number.
"Hello, I need dinner service here."
"How many people?"
John looked around, thought for a moment, and asked, "Do you know Hell Paradise?"
"Send it to Hell Paradise on that scale, please. Thank you."
Before you continue