"Iron Legs! So, you're the Iron Legs!"
Inside the private box, the sounds of gunshots and Hammerhead's heart-wrenching screams rose and fell in quick succession.
Du Mu only put away his Golden Desert Eagle when the magazine was completely empty, still feeling a slight lack of satisfaction.
He had a poor memory, so he always liked to settle scores right on the spot.
Du Mu hadn't forgotten the arrogant and mocking look on Hammerhead's face just now. How dare a mere NPC provoke the Fourth Great Calamity (players)! He was practically asking to be killed!
Hammerhead's legs were now a ghastly sight, riddled with countless bullet holes. Blood soaked his trousers a dark brown, spreading into a shocking stain on the carpet.
It was hard to imagine the inhuman torment he had endured in that brief period.
Hammerhead lay sprawled on the floor, his eyes unfocused, only muttering repeatedly, "I have the Iron Head technique, not the Iron Legs technique, I have the Iron Head technique, not the Iron Legs technique…"
Wesley, who had been plastered under the sofa the entire time, watched this bloody and brutal scene, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.
Too brutal!
Wesley prided himself on having mingled in the underworld for many years—what kind of scene hadn't he witnessed!
But this scene, he truly had never seen!
Just one person had nearly wiped out the entire Maggiya Gang, and was toying with a famous gang leader like Hammerhead.
This couldn't even be called a fight; it was a one-sided slaughter!
Wesley had never believed in any deities, but now he did, continuously praying to all the gods that this evil spirit wouldn't notice him.
Perhaps the gods heard his prayer.
Du Mu seemed unaware of Wesley in the corner. He dragged Hammerhead out of the box like a dead dog, pulling him by the ankle.
Listening to the retreating footsteps, Wesley finally felt his heart start beating again.
"Hallelujah!"
He made the sign of the cross over his chest, scrambling out from under the sofa on all fours. He forced himself to avoid looking at the corpses and pools of blood scattered everywhere and immediately dialed a number.
"What is it?"
A deep, commanding voice came from the other end of the line.
Wesley took a deep breath: "Mister Fisk, something happened. The Maggiya Gang is gone, and Hammerhead has been captured!"
"Hmm?"
Fisk's voice held a clear note of surprise: "Was it the Demon Gang? Or the Russians?"
"No! Neither of them!"
Wesley's voice trembled slightly: "It was a man I've never seen before. He wiped out the Maggiya Gang alone. Even Hammerhead was no match for him. Based on what he said, he seems to be from the NYPD."
Fisk: "?"
Since when did the NYPD get so fierce?
On the other side, Du Mu was dragging the now pain-induced unconscious Hammerhead through a dark alley.
As for the small, escaped fish in the box, he couldn't be bothered with him. He wasn't a "Red Name" target anyway, so killing him wouldn't yield any rewards.
"System, why can't I use the map for quick travel?"
Du Mu complained in his mind. Dragging a living person was too much trouble.
[Map travel is prohibited when carrying live objects, and also objects weighing over 10 kilograms.]
"Got it." Du Mu glanced at Hammerhead by his feet. "I'll just chop him up and take 10 kilograms of meat with me."
[...]
Just as Du Mu and the system were arguing, the sound of something cutting through the air suddenly rang out!
A dark red baton shot forth like a venomous snake from the upper side, aimed directly at the wrist Du Mu was using to drag Hammerhead!
Bang!
The gunshot sounded almost simultaneously with the incoming baton!
Du Mu didn't even fully turn his head, simply raising his wrist casually. The Golden Desert Eagle spat fire, and a bullet struck the baton precisely in mid-air, causing sparks to fly before it clattered onto the ground.
He then lifted his head, looking toward the source of the attack.
Perched atop a tall streetlight pole above the club entrance stood a mysterious figure.
This person was completely encased in a tight, dark red leather suit, wearing a semi-covering mask with two pointed horns. The lower edge of the mask revealed a stubbly chin.
Highlighted by the dim yellow streetlight and the boundless darkness behind him, the person looked like a bat-demon descending from the shadows, radiating a cold and dangerous aura.
That's right, this person was the dark guardian, Daredevil!
"Hand him over."
Daredevil's voice was low and hoarse, and he pointed towards the unconscious Hammerhead by Du Mu's feet.
Du Mu grinned: "You tell me to hand him over, and I just do it? Wouldn't that make me look bad?"
Seeing Du Mu's casual and flippant attitude, Daredevil's masked brow furrowed tightly: "He should face the judgment of the law, not be subjected to your private lynching."
"What a coincidence, I am an NYPD officer," Du Mu shrugged.
"No, you are not."
Daredevil negated him flatly, his voice more solemn, "A true officer wouldn't act like you. I can smell the dense scent of blood on you!"
As the saying goes, when God closes a door, he leaves a back door open for you.
And Daredevil was clearly a man who had entered God's back door.
Although he was blind, he possessed senses far superior to the average person. Apart from his sight, all his other senses had become exceptionally sensitive.
In terms of hearing, Daredevil could easily hear a person's heartbeat, and even the sound of blood flowing through their body.
In terms of smell, he could distinguish the natural scent of individuals, and could remember and identify them, no matter how they tried to mask their odor.
And the blood scent Daredevil smelled on Du Mu was so thick it was almost tangible. It was not something one would acquire by killing a dozen people.
It was the smell of slaughtering hundreds, perhaps even thousands!
"How many people have you actually killed?"
Daredevil couldn't help but ask.
Du Mu remained cheerfully unconcerned: "Do you remember how many loaves of bread you've eaten in your life?"
This lighthearted yet cruel answer caused Daredevil to sharply catch his breath.
As a devout Catholic, he strictly adhered to a no-kill principle that he absolutely would not breach.
Du Mu's act of mass slaughter, treating human life as mere grass, was an absolute desecration and evil that Daredevil could not tolerate.
"That was a living, breathing human life!" Daredevil's voice rose with anger.
Human life?
Du Mu chuckled as if he'd heard an amusing joke, dismissing it naturally: "Just a pile of data, that's all. They won't truly die anyway."
He paused, then casually dropped the muzzle of his gun towards Hammerhead by his feet.
"Just like this!"
Bang!!
Under Daredevil's shocked gaze, the Golden Desert Eagle's muzzle spat a deadly flash of fire, and the bullet instantly tore through Hammerhead's neck!
Clearly, this 'Iron Head' practitioner hadn't managed to extend his skill to his neck. A large gush of blood surged out of his severed carotid artery like a fountain.
Hammerhead's body twitched violently once, then fell utterly silent.
Du Mu looked at the corpse on the ground and shook his head with a slight regret: "A pity. Completing the mission with him alive would've given me a higher completion rate, but dragging him was just too much trouble."
Daredevil stood frozen atop the streetlight pole, a bone-chilling cold instantly creeping up his spine.
He ended a life so casually, merely because it was inconvenient?!
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