Back in his apartment, Zhang Jie lay comfortably on his bed. To be honest, the series of high-intensity missions and skirmishes he had experienced recently had truly exhausted him.
Moreover, his old injuries hadn't healed before new ones appeared, leaving him in a continuous state of being wounded.
If he could see his health bar, he felt he would probably be critically low on health right now.
It was a pity he didn't have a system; he should just get some good rest.
These gunshot wounds, knife wounds, especially the stab wound in his abdomen, still needed proper care.
The best doctors were, of course, provided by the Continental Hotel.
But the cost was truly expensive. Of course, if he had enough gold coins, he could ignore the money aspect, but the problem was, where would he get so many gold coins?
Thinking about this and replaying the events in Korea and Tokyo, he drifted off to sleep. He was truly too tired.
He slept soundly until 10:30 AM the next day.
Zhang Jie finally got out of bed and glanced at the gloomy sky outside the window. Good, it was an overcast day, so the sun wouldn't be too harsh.
He drove to the Continental Hotel in New York, where Charon at the front desk greeted him.
"Long time no see, Mr. Zhang."
Charon stood tall and straight in a cream-colored suit.
"It certainly has been a long time," Zhang Jie said, greeting him while pulling out a black card from his pocket and handing it to Charon. "Please transfer this money to my personal account."
Charon took the card and performed a series of operations on the front desk system. Soon after, a transfer notification came through on Zhang Jie's phone.
"Citibank International reminds: Your account ending in 1234 received a deposit of $920,000.00 on May 22. Available balance: $931,425.75. If this was not initiated by you, please call 1-800-374-9000 immediately."
Excellent, I, Zhang Jie, am now a man with nearly 1 million in savings.
Then, Zhang Jie said to Charon, "Please arrange a doctor for me. I need to have my wounds treated."
Charon nodded, smiling, and said it was no problem.
When Zhang Jie walked out of the Continental Hotel again, his expression seemed to show a mix of unwillingness, anger, and heartache.
He had only visited a doctor at the Continental Hotel and picked up some medicine.
Savings - $38,000.
If I had known the doctors here were so expensive, I wouldn't have come. Looking at the bag of medicine he was carrying, Zhang Jie was on the verge of tears.
Back home, Zhang Jie was still annoyed but helpless; the doctor's skills were indeed excellent.
"Next, I need to replace my weapons and equipment. My bulletproof vest is also ruined."
Thus, Zhang Jie, whose backside hadn't even warmed his seat at home, soon appeared in the black market's gun shop.
After telling the shop owner his needs, the owner led him to another display cabinet, a place Zhang Jie had never been before.
Pushing open the heavy bulletproof glass door, a crisp metallic scent mixed with gun oil wafted towards him.
The temperature inside the room was a few degrees lower than outside. Directly facing the entrance was a row of matte black gun cabinets embedded in the wall, crafted from aerospace-grade aluminum alloy.
Through the glass, he could see the interior display space illuminated by LED light strips.
The Pistol section occupied the left three tiers.
The top tier held three custom 1911 Government Models with diamond-patterned anti-slip grips on their ebony handles; the middle tier contained three glock 34 Competition Pistols, with RMR red dot sights mounted on their MOS rails; the bottom tier was a row of gold-plated Desert Eagles, their .50AE caliber barrels shimmering like molten gold under the lights. There was also a Smith & Wesson M&P 9 M2.0 to the side, its black finish looking excellent, and Zhang Jie immediately took a liking to it.
The rifle array on the right was even more breathtaking.
An HK416D had a tactical strap wrapped around its free-floating barrel, and "DEVGRU" was handwritten in white paint on the side of its handguard; below it, an AK-103 lay horizontally with its stock folded.
A MK18 Mod0, equipped with an EOTech holographic sight.
The sniper rifle section at the end of the room was bathed in blue spotlights.
The Barrett MRAD's folding bipod resembled folded eagle wings, and next to it, an AW Covert was fully painted in jungle camouflage. Above, a CheyTac M200 hung, its carbon fiber body shimmering with a watery luster.
In the corner was a separate counter-terrorism equipment cabinet.
Night vision goggles were piled next to MP5SD subsonic magazines, the P90's transparent magazine held 50 rounds, and a nickel-plated Colt Python lay in a glass partition.
"This one," Zhang Jie said, pointing to the Smith & Wesson M&P 9 M2.0 in the display case. Besides the glock, this Pistol was his favorite.
Smith MP9. After taking the Pistol, Zhang Jie performed a few tactical movements, pulled the trigger, and it immediately locked back on an empty chamber.
It had to be said, the feel of this Pistol was indeed good, but it was still a little bit inferior to the glock, because the glock's trigger was lighter.
In terms of performance, he still preferred the glock for now, but he also really liked this Pistol, so he bought it!
He ordered two custom-fitted bulletproof suits. Measurements were taken, and production began. They wouldn't be ready quickly but would be delivered to his door when finished.
And so, Zhang Jie returned home with his new toys and ammunition.
Two Smith MP9s, two suppressors, 500 rounds of 9mm hollow-point bullets, and 200 rounds of subsonic ammunition.
His savings were reduced by another $80,000.
His $930,000 had dwindled to $818,000 in the blink of an eye. This was truly spending money like water!
Today marked 14 days since the Old Lady went on her European trip. He didn't know when she would return, but it felt good not to have someone creating various creative charges for him. He finally got a quiet day of rest.
In the evening, while Zhang Jie was cleaning, he accidentally noticed that the Old Lady's room door was not closed, but slightly ajar.
"She's not home. Has someone broken in these past few days?"
Zhang Jie approached directly, his hand already on his Pistol.
After listening at the door for a while, he found nothing, so he gently pushed the door inward with his toe.
The moment the door opened, Zhang Jie slapped the wall to turn on the light, simultaneously scanning the room cautiously. He found nothing.
However, the messy state of the Old Lady's room was somewhat beyond Zhang Jie's expectations.
There was everything in there: notebooks, various bills and receipts, and even a Pistol.
He wasn't surprised by the Pistol; after all, the Old Lady used to be in the same line of work. It was only after she retired that she became a hitman's landlady.
But why did those notebooks on the table look so familiar?
He walked over, picked up a notebook, and flipped through it, immediately spotting a photograph.
The photo was a bit yellowed, but it showed a slightly younger Schneider posing with a boy.
The boy didn't look very old, probably just over fifteen.
Turning the photo over, it read 2006.7.5.
At this moment, Zhang Jie's dormant memories surged again, and a painful haze filled his mind.
The scene in the photo seemed to move; the boy was actually him, his 15-year-old self!
"This is..."
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