The appearance of this reward was purely an accident.
There is almost no other possibility except on the battlefield to mobilize more than a hundred special forces fighters to encircle and suppress Luke in one go.
Nor will he enter the battlefield.
He doesn't have any interest in killing people, it's all just because of experience points.
Even though some people must have experience points to get, he didn't kill them all, and he didn't want to keep them.
Like the one or two hundred cases he has handled over the past year, most of them were only sent to prison by him, and most of the people who died were concentrated in some evil gang members.
For other small cases of petty theft, bank robbery, and threats with guns, even if they could be solved by shooting, he only subdued the other party.
The reward offered by the Continental Hotel this time gave him a chance.
Actual combat is the only criterion for testing truth.
Today's actual battle tested his speculation.
The ordinary human army, without the coordinated attack of a large number of heavy firepower, can no longer pose a threat to him.
This does not sound like a big deal, no one in the army has heavy firepower.
But Luke and his various vest activities are almost all in big cities.
In this environment, the army is unlikely to use heavy firepower, and the consequences would be too serious.
He is invincible against ordinary people in the city.
Coming to this conclusion, he didn't feel any surprise in his heart, instead he felt a little empty.
The phrase "Lonely as snow" is indeed a true portrayal of my mood at this moment.
From this moment on, the battle with ordinary people will become a simple and unsuspenseful act of mechanical scoring, even if the opponent is an elite killer or special soldier, even if the number of the opponent is tens or hundreds.
Unless the opponent is a person with superpowers, or possesses extraordinary equipment and weapons like a certain young master, it is just a moving target under his gun.
While thinking this way, he quickly cleaned up all the "garbage" and the scene with his hands and feet, and threw them into a large truck that had been parked in the park parking lot in advance.
This is also a prop he reserved here in advance, and it exists exclusively for washing the ground.
Turning his head to look at the dead silence, only the snowflakes falling from the sky, he pondered for a moment, then chuckled: "I'd better leave you a souvenir!"
Speaking of which, he used the cover of the large truck compartment to transport a life-size sculpture from the storage space and placed it on the small peninsula by the lake.
Most of the killers tonight left their lives here, it is a good place to leave souvenirs.
After placing the sculpture, Luke swiped the matte knife, and a line of standard English cursive characters appeared on the base of the sculpture.
Glancing at the sentence that seemed to be carved by a machine, he nodded in satisfaction, turned around and wanted to leave, but stopped suddenly, swung the matte knife again, and carved a number 126 under the message.
"Now, your memory should be clearer and longer." Luke chuckled, drove into the truck, and quickly disappeared into the park.
Mire Park fell into silence again, only snowflakes were falling layer upon layer, gradually piling up on the unconscious killer and the black statue.
The snow is getting bigger and bigger.
…
At the Continental Hotel in New York, Winston was reading a book leisurely on the sofa by the fireplace.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
He frowned: "Come in." Just hearing the knock on the door, he knew it was Caron, the manager on duty in the lobby.
A black man with a thin face entered the door and walked not far from Winston.
He was wearing a neat black suit, his back was straight, his movements were quick but not impatient, and he even looked quite gentle, which was completely different from most African-Americans who pursue unrestrained and natural style.
This is Cuaron, and Winston's most trusted subordinate.
"Sir, something happened." Caron lowered his body slightly and said softly.
Winston was not impatient, but he didn't delay either. He casually put a bookmark on the bookcase in his hand, closed it and put it on the small coffee table next to him: "What's the matter?"
Caron: "There is a problem with the order of the smiling man. The news just came. Of the 127 killers who went to Mire Park, only one survived."
Winston's breathing paused slightly, and he raised his hand to take off his gold-rimmed glasses: "What's the specific situation?"
At the same time as the words came out, several thoughts had already drifted through his mind.
Peer ambush? Official shot? Or... that person came out of the mountain
Thinking of the last thought, he couldn't help shaking his head slightly: Impossible, how could that person come back again just for a precious love after he left this circle after so many hardships.
"The surviving person was sent back by Smiley Man to deliver a message on purpose, and it was only after she woke up that she called the hotel as soon as she woke up that I found out about the news," Caron said.
With a calm expression, Winston stood up slowly, took two steps, stood in front of the fireplace, and added two sticks of firewood to the fireplace: "What did he say?"
Caron's racial talent limited the further deepening of his face, but his expression became more rigid: "Sir, are you the exact words?"
Winston watched the wood that had just been thrown into the fireplace gradually change color, and then the flames rose again: "Say."
Caron: "His original words were to go back and tell the Continental Hotel that this time it was just a small meeting ceremony. Since I am in New York, you have to kneel when I stand. You have to kneel when I sit. Just like you are now."
He confirmed this over and over again.
He knew that his boss would ask.
In Winston's eyes, the fire in the fireplace was dancing, and the newly added wood made it more lively.
After a moment of silence, he spoke: "The living person, take good care of her, and make sure she recalls all useful information."
Caron: "Yes, sir."
After waiting for a while, he didn't hear the next sentence, so he hesitated and said, "Sir, that smiling man..."
Winston waved his back to him: "Don't worry about him for now, everything will be business as usual."
Caron opened his mouth, and finally said respectfully: "Yes, sir." He left the room.
One order, one hundred and twenty-six killers died, which is also an extremely rare situation for the Continental Hotel.
Caron originally wanted to ask what to do, but he couldn't figure out many of Winston's thoughts, but he believed that the boss had his own plans, so he didn't need to remind him repeatedly.
Winston stood in front of the fireplace for a long time, until he felt a little hot, and then walked back to the living room, took out his mobile phone and broadcast the number: "A thorough investigation of the order, number 041125, the contract code is Smiley Man. Including the payer and the reason for signing the contract .Remember, what I want is not the first-hand goods from the street, I want definite first-hand information."
Hearing the answer over there, he hung up the phone.
Walking to the window, looking at the first winter snow that was getting bigger and bigger, a faint bad premonition flashed in his heart.
This premonition has helped him avoid crisis many times, and he would rather believe in it and spend time and energy to verify whether it is true than to classify it as a paranoid disease of the elderly.
This world is really too dangerous.
The Continental Hotel is not invincible either.
…