“According to the location, this is still Jingguan City, not far from the chosen one's residence.”

Ethan Brooks was stunned for a moment and asked in confusion, “Wasn’t I at home before the transfer? How did I end up here?”

The phone in his hand was silent for a long time before a line of text flashed on the screen.

“…The Earth is rotating.”

Ethan Brooks’s expression froze.

“That explanation… Why didn’t you just throw me to Africa!”

“My computing system hasn’t been used for a long time, so a small error is normal. The issue has now been fixed.”

“Alright, just don’t really throw me to Africa. By the way, it’s lucky no one’s around here—if this handgun had dropped in public, I’d have to go to the police station.”

The phone screen dimmed.

Ethan Brooks was at a loss with this phone that possessed such heaven-defying abilities. He rubbed his sore waist and walked out of the dark alley.

A ray of sunlight shone on his face. It had only been a month, yet he felt as if a lifetime had passed. Everything he’d experienced in the past month truly felt like a dream.

This mission had kept him in the world of “Léon: The Professional” for over a month. Perhaps because of the prologue, he’d gained a lot: two guns with accessories, several bullets lying in his portable space, and a few abilities others could only dream of.

“Hmm, there’s about seventy thousand dollars left. I wonder if I can use it in the real world. At this rate, six times seven is forty-two… Wait, did I suddenly become rich?”

“Is this really not a dream?”

Ethan Brooks walked down the street, a bit dazed. Up to now, he still couldn’t be sure this was real, let alone the fact that he had just pulled the trigger twice and, from such a distance, killed someone.

Suddenly, there was a commotion ahead in the crowd, followed by a woman’s cry.

“Catch the thief! Catch the thief, he stole my bag!”

“In broad daylight, you two dare to steal my bag? Stop right there!”

Two young men quickly broke through the crowd, running toward Ethan Brooks. The one in front was holding a fashionable LV bag, glancing back from time to time.

Maybe it was because Ethan Brooks was blocking their way, but the man with the bag didn’t hesitate to push Ethan Brooks aside and rushed forward.

Ethan Brooks was tall—about 1.8 meters—and not skinny, but people these days tend to mind their own business and avoid trouble. Besides, the two thieves were both big guys, so this thief never imagined Ethan Brooks would do anything to stop them.

But at this moment, Ethan Brooks was feeling irritable, and he had just received the transmission for Combat Mastery (Beginner). If the thief hadn’t provoked him, he might have just let them run past, but instead, the guy just had to push him.

“Bang!”

Before the crowd could see what happened, the thief was already lying face down on the ground, a huge bump on his forehead, and the pink limited-edition LV bag had flown out of his hand.

As it turned out, even beginner-level Combat Mastery was still Combat Mastery—at least at a professional level, far beyond ordinary street punks.

Combat Mastery taught him: before reaching master level, never give your opponent a chance to fight back. Always press your advantage to the end, or you might end up losing!

So, as the punk tried to struggle to his feet, Ethan Brooks stepped forward without hesitation and stomped on his head. The move was simple, yet so violent.

“Bang.”

A dull thud sounded, and the surrounding crowd all flinched, subconsciously swallowing hard as they saw the blood pooling where the thief’s head hit the tiled sidewalk. Their hearts pounded with fear.

Ethan Brooks turned to the side. The other young man instinctively took a step back, pulled a knife from behind his waist, pointed it at Ethan Brooks, and tried to sound fierce:

“What do you want? This has nothing to do with you. We’re all in the same business. I’m warning you… Take my advice, always leave yourself a way out.”

Ethan Brooks was momentarily lost in thought. Only now did he truly feel that everything the time-traveling phone had given him was real—including the power. It felt unreal, yet was so intoxicating.

A tall woman rushed over, picked up the bag from the ground, and looked up at him with a delighted face. “Thank you! Um… my name is Hannah Cooper. I really owe you this time.”

Ethan Brooks glanced at her. She was stylishly dressed, lightly made up, and very beautiful—a true beauty with a strong presence. Judging by the LV bag in her hand, her family was probably well-off.

But he had no time to care about any of that. After all, he had just received an incredible stroke of luck, and his mind was in turmoil.

The punk nearby glared at him, gritted his teeth, and charged, stabbing with the knife. He still had some restraint, aiming for the stomach—after all, no one wanted to be responsible for a death.

“Ah!”

The beautiful woman screamed. Having been pampered since childhood, she had never seen anything like this.

“Hmph, looking for trouble!”

Ethan Brooks reacted quickly. He wasn’t quite at the level of catching a blade barehanded, but he sidestepped the attack, pushed the punk away with borrowed force, and when the distance was right, delivered a fierce kick to the guy’s groin.

“Bang.”

“Hiss!!! Ah!!!”