4:17 PM, inside a Seoul Myeongdong subway car.
The cold air from the air conditioning mixed with the smell of metal and plastic, the car swayed slightly, and the lights were stark white.
Zhang Jie sat by the door, his baseball cap pulled low, and the collar of his black double-sided jacket turned up, covering half of his face.
Next to him was the man in the suit he had just dealt with.
His hands were in his pockets, his left hand loosely gripping a suppressed glock 17.
There weren't many people in the car; a few students were looking down at their phones, an office worker was leaning their head back, pretending to nap, and in the corner, an Old Lady was slowly folding flyers.
But danger lurked beneath this calm.
A man in a gray trench coat stood up and walked casually towards Zhang Jie. His right hand hung by his side, and a cold glint of metal flashed faintly from his cuff.
Zhang Jie didn't look up, but his peripheral vision was locked on the man.
Three steps, two steps, one step.
The trench coat man suddenly accelerated, a short blade sliding from his sleeve, stabbing directly at Zhang Jie's throat!
Zhang Jie sharply dodged, the blade grazing his neck. His left hand drew the suppressed glock, pressing it against the man's abdomen.
Pfft!
With a muffled thud, the trench coat man's body stiffened. Zhang Jie's right hand snatched the man's dagger, then flicked it upwards, piercing his throat and pinning it to his spine.
Before blood could splatter, Zhang Jie grabbed the corpse by the collar and gently laid it back on the seat, as if he were just helping a drunkard.
Then he covered his face with his trench coat, making it look like he was sleeping.
The student next to him, wearing headphones, didn't even lift their head.
Zhang Jie stood up, pretending to stretch, and walked towards the next car.
"Next stop, Hoehyeon Station."
By the time the mechanical female voice sounded, Zhang Jie had already moved to the connecting section between the cars.
The third car was swaying slightly.
A businessman put down his newspaper and walked towards Zhang Jie. His right hand swung naturally, but his left hand remained hidden by the side of his briefcase.
Zhang Jie pretended to stumble from the inertia, and the moment the man reached out to steady him, his suppressed Pistol from under his jacket pressed against the killer's abdomen.
Pfft!
A muffled thud, like someone gently coughing.
The killer's pupils constricted. Zhang Jie, taking advantage of the situation, embraced his slumping body, pressing him into a nearby seat as if tending to a drunk friend.
Blood seeped into the dark suit; the girl in front, engrossed in her phone, didn't even turn her head.
He continued forward.
A man in a tracksuit walked towards him. The moment they brushed past each other, the subway entered a tunnel, and the car windows suddenly darkened.
The man suddenly struck, his brass knuckles aiming directly at Zhang Jie's temple!
Zhang Jie tilted his head, dodging, the brass knuckles scraping his cap brim.
He held the dagger in his right hand in a reverse grip, stabbing it into the man's ribs, while simultaneously pressing his left knee into his abdomen and the suppressed Pistol against his chin.
Pfft!
Blood bloomed from the back of his head.
He pushed the corpse into a corner, as if merely helping a passenger with motion sickness, though the crimson behind him was glaring.
Zhang Jie passed through the connecting door but stopped abruptly at the entrance to the fourth car. In the middle of the car, an Old Lady was struggling to lift a suitcase onto the luggage rack.
Zhang Jie's temple throbbed.
It was too deliberate; at this time of day in the afternoon, no tourist would carry large luggage.
He pretended to tie his shoelaces and crouched down. Sure enough, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Old Lady's cloudy eyes, magnified by her reading glasses, staring at him.
"Old Lady, let me help you."
He didn't care if she understood him or not.
Zhang Jie offered a smile, but his right hand reached for his tactical dagger.
The moment he stood up, the Old Lady's withered fingers suddenly bulged with veins, and the suitcase "clicked" open a crack.
The sound of the dagger slicing through the air was perfectly masked by the friction of the subway tracks. Zhang Jie's left hand clamped down on the poison needle the Old Lady swung, and his right hand's dagger had already plunged into her throat.
Beneath the silicone mask disguised as wrinkles, a young man's face was contorted in shock.
As the body fell into the suitcase, Zhang Jie caught the popping lid in time.
He continued forward.
There were even fewer people here, but the danger was more intense.
As soon as Zhang Jie stepped in, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. On both his left and right, two "passengers" moved simultaneously!
The man on the left swung a steel wire, and the woman on the right revealed a short stiletto.
Zhang Jie sharply leaned back, the wire grazing his throat and missing. His left hand fired.
Pfft!
Blood blossomed from the woman's forehead.
At the same time, his right hand's dagger slashed at the steel wire man's wrist. The man cried out in pain and let go. Zhang Jie spun and delivered an elbow strike, crushing his Adam's apple.
Before the body could fall, at the end of the sixth car, another killer stood up. This time, he held a Pistol.
Zhang Jie's pupils constricted. He adjusted his wrist slightly and fired in the killer's direction.
Pfft!
The bullet drilled into the killer's chest, blooming with blood, before the passengers could react.
Pfft! Pfft!
Two more shots, and the killer sat back down. Zhang Jie immediately walked forward, came to his side, and kicked his Pistol under the seat.
The gunshots were muffled by the sound of the subway.
He tugged at his clothes, covering the bleeding wound.
Zhang Jie entered the seventh car, and as he pushed open the door, a Choi family killer charged at him with a drawn blade!
The two clashed in the narrow aisle, dagger against short blade, sparks flying! Zhang Jie parried the man's blade, smashed his nose with the butt of his Pistol, and followed with a knee strike. The killer slumped to the ground.
Fortunately, there were no longer any passengers here, so there was no fear of being discovered.
The terminal station arrived.
The subway slowed, and light flooded the car.
Zhang Jie pulled his cap lower, blended into the exiting passengers, walked out of the door, and quickly stepped onto the escalator.
Cold wind hit his face. He disappeared into the bustling crowd.
Behind him, the smell of blood in the subway car was just beginning to spread.
As he turned a corner, Zhang Jie looked around, continuing to walk forward. Just as he was considering whether he needed to call Veronica for help, a man in a suit walked towards him from the front.
His crisis response instantly kicked in. Zhang Jie's gaze immediately locked onto the man in the suit, carrying a black leather bag, about 50 meters away.
He was about 40 years old, wearing glasses, and looked rather shifty. His left hand held the leather bag, but his right hand was hidden inside the bag. Without even thinking, there was definitely a Pistol in there.
Zhang Jie's attention instantly became highly focused.
He continued walking forward, but his gait became somewhat peculiar, as if he were dodging left and right. Suddenly, Zhang Jie's body moved sharply to the left.
Then, behind him, there was a loud sound from a tree; a bullet had hit a branch.
Zhang Jie continued walking. As he passed a businessman, he casually pulled a pen from his chest pocket.
Drawing a Pistol at this moment was impossible; it would definitely cause panic. So he could only find a way to deal with the guy without alarming the crowd.
Zhang Jie continued walking. The second shot also came, but Zhang Jie again dodged it, directly shooting through the milk tea in the hand of a hot girl passing behind him. She looked around, confused.
By this time, Zhang Jie's right hand had already removed the pen cap. He quickly approached the man in the suit. The man in the suit had already fired two shots, but Zhang Jie had dodged both.
Crisis response was particularly effective at this moment. The man in the suit was already starting to question reality. He even wondered if his Pistol was broken, or if the trajectory was off?
While he was bewildered, Zhang Jie had quickly walked up to him, directly plunging the pen in his hand into his throat, then punched the pen embedded in his throat, burying it completely, and then passed him by.
At this point, the man in the suit clutched his neck and fell to the ground, beginning to convulse, while Zhang Jie had already moved far away.
The crowd began to scream.
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