Chapter 1089
Scattered chairs, overturned tables, and shattered glass from the back window completed the chaotic scene.‘
Andrew’s eyes sharpened as he stepped toward the staircase and barked coldly, “Come out.‘
After three seconds, a masked man stepped into view at the bend of the stairs. He was holding a gun in one hand, a combat knife sheathed at his waist, and eyes sharp as a hawk’s.
“You noticed something was wrong, but instead of running, you walked right in like you owned the place. You must be real confident in your skills.” The man sneered as he raised the gun, aiming directly at Andrew’s head.
Then, he pulled the trigger without a hint of hesitation. He wasted no time on speeches, eager to end the situation. After all, unnecessary chatters were the reason many villains died.
Even so, deep down, the assassin was surprised. He was told that the target on the Goldings‘ hit list was supposed to be some minor nobody. Yet somehow, this guy had spotted him instantly–despite a perfect hiding spot.
Still, it did not matter. With his skill level and the cold precision of his pistol, it would be over in a flash. Even if the kid was some half–baked semi–martial king, a direct hit would slow him down.
Then, once injured, his teammates would descend like vultures to finish the job and collect the sweet, sweet 300–million–dollar bounty.
As he pulled the trigger, the assassin was already fantasizing about how to spend his share.
First stop: find a hot, mature woman. Then, he would disappear with her for a two–week escape to a treehouse resort in the mountain range abroad. There, he would finally release all the pressure he had built up as a killer.
No more silent nights or blood–stained targets–just soft beds, smooth whiskey, and a woman who could bend without breaking. Not like those bratty college girls or fake–coy bitches who whimpered at the slightest touch.
No, mature women were different. They were broken in and more adventurous–a true professional’s dream. In their little hitman circles, they called it what it was–the best of the
best.
The pistol fired with a muffled pop. The bullet shot forward, slicing through the darkness.
The killer smirked, confident that it would hit Andrew. He pulled out his knife and rushed in to finish the job, but what greeted him was no bleeding target.
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Chapter 1089
425 BONCA
It was a monster hiding in the shadows, a beast that slammed straight into his chest like a wrecking ball.
He let out a sharp, strangled cry as his entire ribcage collapsed inward on impact. Blood and shredded organ matter burst from his lungs and sprayed from his mouth.
He stared wide–eyed in disbelief, wondering if he had actually missed his shot. After all, at a distance of less than ten meters, his aim should have been perfect.
Before he could process it, he saw his own dagger–now in Andrew’s hand–slash across his throat with precision, and it felt like his neck had been split open.
Just like that, a peak senior grandmaster assassin died without even leaving a scar behind.
In the darkness, Andrew’s voice rang out coldly, low and unbothered. “You thought a gun made you invincible? Real killers don’t rely on weapons–they are the weapon.”
He stepped over the assassin’s body and mocked, “And weak assassins like you? You’re the kind who always ends up getting killed instead.”
Still murmuring to himself, he began walking up the stairs. At that exact moment, two other assassins–who had been hanging from the stairwell above–panicked.
With heavy breathing and a gust of wind, they flung themselves toward the second–floor window, desperately trying to escape. Their minds were blank with terror.
If even Vulture, who was stronger than both of them, had been killed that easily, it meant their target was bit someone weak. Instead, he was ridiculously strong.
Sure, the 300–million–dollar bounty was insane, but no payday was worth dying for.
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