The morning light streamed through the Shooting range's floor-to-ceiling windows. Zhang Jie stood at the firing line, his hands firmly gripping a glock 34.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three shots fired in quick succession, forming a tight triangle of bullet holes on the target paper 25 yards away.
He lowered the Pistol, looking at the values in the lower right corner of his vision:
Pistol: Lv2 (89/100)
"Still not enough."
He shook his head and loaded a new magazine.
There was a significant difference in feel between training rounds and live ammunition. Training rounds had less propellant, lighter recoil, and a more stable trajectory.
But John had said: "Use garbage bullets during training, and you'll master the gun in real combat."
So Zhang Jie fired 300 training rounds every day until his tiger's mouth blistered and his arm muscles memorized the feedback of every recoil.
The sound of claws scratching the ground came from behind him.
He turned around and saw John's new dog, a Belgian Malinois cross with a black back, wagging its tail at him, an empty magazine in its mouth.
"Thanks, buddy."
Zhang Jie squatted down and rubbed the dog's head, then casually tucked the magazine into his tactical vest.
This dog was much smarter than Daisy; it could open doors, retrieve spent casings, and even distinguish between 1911 and glock magazines.
John sat in the monitoring room, observing the training ground through the one-way glass.
The rookie who used to jam when changing magazines six months ago could now perform a tactical reload in under a second.
Significant progress, but still not enough.
Far from enough.
After training, Zhang Jie returned to his apartment, washed off the gunpowder smell, and sat on his bed, scrolling through his phone.
The High Table's mission APP interface was starkly minimalist, almost cold, with black background and red text, like congealed blood.
Most were one- or two-star dirty jobs—debt collection, intimidation, eliminating traitors—the commissions barely enough to cover rent.
Until he saw the pinned announcement:
Location: Surrey, UK
Advance Payment: $50000
Danger Level: ★ ★ ★ ★
Acceptance Conditions: Unlimited
Zhang Jie's finger paused on the screen.
Four stars.
In the assassin rating, three stars meant the target had professional bodyguards, while four stars meant you might die inexplicably.
"$50,000…"
The number exploded in his mind.
It could pay off Mrs. Schneider's bills, buy a full set of new equipment, and even get a less embarrassing car… His rationality was still calculating the risks, but his finger had already tapped.
"Mission Accepted"
"Friendly Reminder: Mission cannot be canceled. Complete or die, choose one."
?
"…Damn it!"
"No? What the hell! What are you doing? Dead hand!!"
Σ (ﾟдﾟ;)
His phone suddenly vibrated, and a bank notification popped up:
"Account credited $50,000.00"
The good news was, he was no longer broke.
The bad news was, he might not live to spend it.
The mission details page was suspiciously brief:
Arrive at Heathrow Airport, UK within 24 hours
Present this email at Blackthorn Castle, Surrey
Round-trip expenses reimbursed with receipts
No target photo, no operational details, not even a contact person's name.
Zhang Jie stared at the screen and suddenly laughed: "Isn't this just a blatant trap?"
But the High Table's rules were clear: accepting a mission and not going would be considered a breach of contract.
He knew exactly how many gold coins a defaulter's head was worth.
He dialed John's number.
"I took a mission in the UK."
Silence on the other end for three seconds.
"How many stars?"
"Four stars."
"Blackthorn Castle?"
"Mm."
A longer silence.
"…Did you buy the ticket?"
"Not yet."
"Buy two."
John hung up the phone.
Zhang Jie stood frozen, his phone still pressed to his ear.
Did he just imagine that?
Little did he know, John had also seen that commission, but he hadn't clicked on it, after all, he was already retired.
He just hadn't expected that this troublesome Zhang Jie would actually take it on.
This mission wasn't that easy to accept… The iron gate of the Brooklyn black market for firearms slowly rose. The boss looked at Zhang Jie, who had returned, and raised an eyebrow: "What do you want to buy now?"
"Bulletproof suit, Level III, lightweight model."
"Whose size?"
Zhang Jie: "Mine."
The boss gave him a meaningful look, then turned and took a black dust bag from the safe: "$8,000, no bargaining."
This time, Zhang Jie didn't hesitate and paid cash directly.
When he put on the suit and stood in front of the mirror, he barely recognized himself. The well-tailored black fabric hugged his muscles, and the Kevlar lining felt almost weightless.
"Now you look the part." The boss handed him a PVC plastic case. "John's request."
Inside the case was a disassembled Accuracy International AXMC sniper rifle, complete with a suppressor and night vision scope.
Accuracy International, UK, Caliber: .338 (interchangeable barrels, compatible with .300 Win Mag, 7.62 NATO, etc.)
Effective Range: 1500 meters+
Features: Modular design, cold hammer-forged barrel, folding stock, high-precision sniping system
Information about this firearm flashed through his mind instantly.
"Holy crap! This thing is worth at least $20,000!"
"To be precise, it's $50,000," the boss lit a cigar, his yellow teeth showing through the smoke: "John already paid for it."
Hmm?
What does that mean?
Naturally, the boss didn't explain to Zhang Jie why, and Zhang Jie was too lazy to ask. Since the boss said John had paid, it meant John must have bought it.
"I hate rich people!"
Thinking of himself risking his life for $50,000, Zhang Jie's face was instantly filled with resentment.
This $50,000 was a hot potato, but he couldn't worry about that now.
Most importantly, it only just occurred to him that a four-star mission only had a $50,000 advance payment. Wasn't that too cheap?
Some three-star missions paid more than $50,000!
Zhang Jie, realizing this, was filled with grief and indignation, yet he was helpless.
At this moment, he also realized that this was probably a mission to find a scapegoat. No wonder John wanted to go with him. It seemed like John was preparing to save his life. Surely, he wouldn't let him have another real combat lesson, right?
Comparing his and John's skills, Zhang Jie could roughly guess that John's skills were probably all at Level 5.
That is, what he guessed to be the Grandmaster level, while his own skills didn't even have many at the preliminary mastery stage. He was still tens of thousands of miles away from such a big shot.
Use Lv1 → Preliminary Mastery Lv2 → Proficient Application Lv3 → Mastery Lv4 → Grandmaster Lv5.
Zhang Jie guessed that John had at least two skills at Level 5.
Otherwise, it would be impossible for him to take on dozens of people alone so effortlessly and smoothly.
He thought about all these random things on the way, and the plane landed.
In front of the immigration channel at Heathrow Airport, Zhang Jie repeatedly checked his passport.
John stood three steps away, black suit, black tie, expressionless.
Passing travelers unconsciously detoured around him, as if avoiding a moving iceberg.
"So," Zhang Jie whispered, "why exactly did you come along?"
John adjusted his cufflink, where a blade was hidden: "I hate British food."
Zhang Jie was about to complain when the corner of his eye caught a reflection flashing in the terminal corner.
A lens? A camera? Or… a sniper scope?
He suddenly yanked John and dove behind a pillar. Almost simultaneously, a bullet shattered the glass where they had just been standing.
Crash!
Glass shattered!
Amidst the screams of the crowd, John calmly glanced around: "Welcome to a four-star mission."
?
Wasn't there supposed to be no notification?
It's starting now?
Are four-star missions that exciting?
No?
We don't have any weapons on us right now!
-----------------------
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