It was obvious that the first two lottery results were both related to slicked-back hair, but the third one... Russell had absolutely no idea who the other person was—could it be the one who did the photoshopping?

And... what on earth does “catching shrimp” mean?

As a rookie in his probationary period, Russell didn’t really get it; he could only guess that this character had something to do with driving vehicles.

The skill card “Bullet Time” was awesome, but Russell didn’t use it right away. If it turned out to be a one-time skill, that would be a huge waste. Good steel should be used on the blade’s edge; the third mission world was very dangerous, and the “Bullet Time” skill card was a life-saving trump card that couldn’t be wasted lightly.

After browsing through his equipment list again, Russell thought for a moment and took out a bottle of medicinal wine for bruises. He’d suffered contusions in a fight, with several bruises on his body—any big movement hurt like hell.

To be honest, compared to the medicinal wine, Russell wanted Yunnan Baiyao even more right now, because for bruises within 24 hours, the wine wasn’t really suitable.

As he rubbed the bruise on his elbow, Russell couldn’t help but marvel at the medicinal wine provided by the system. With the system, there was no need to harp on about what’s reasonable. The effect was outstanding—the bruise faded at a speed visible to the naked eye, and his joint felt slightly warm and very comfortable.

During this, Russell figured out the usage rules for item cards, which were different from character and skill cards. Once an item card was used, there was no time limit, but after use, it couldn’t be taken out of the current world.

“Bang bang bang!!”

The car window on the driver’s side was knocked on. It was a black youth with a cheeky grin. When he saw Russell turn his head, he immediately flashed a friendly smile: “Hey, man, do you know what time it is?”

Russell glanced over and saw a few more guys dressed just as flamboyantly behind the black youth, all looking like street punks.

Here come the greenbacks!

Russell immediately returned a polite smile: “Of course, I know!”

Chapter 7: Because It’s Awesome

The black youth’s smile grew even wider at this, his mouth splitting open to show his molars: “Awesome! We’re about to head to a bar, but we don’t know the time. If you can tell us, we’ll take you with us and buy you a drink.”

“What a coincidence, I was just thinking about having a drink.”

Russell smiled as he opened the car door, silently activating “Item Card: M9” in his mind. So, as soon as the door opened, the black youth found a pistol pressed to his forehead and was forced to back away step by step.

The other punks realized things had gone south and turned to run, but before they’d taken two steps, they heard Russell’s harsh shout.

“Whoever runs the fastest, I’ll shoot first!”

The punks had no choice but to stop, glancing at each other, then, with practiced experience, pressed their hands to the wall and lined up. In the good old US of A, this was a basic survival skill—not surprising at all.

“Man, we mean no harm, really just wanted to ask the time. Can you put the gun down?” The black youth was on the verge of tears. Their goal was simple: borrow the car, then sell it for some pocket money.

“Sorry, you mean no harm, but I do!” Russell’s smile didn’t fade. “Empty your pockets—each of you gets one chance. If I find you’re hiding something when I search you, who knows, I might get mad and the gun could go off by accident.”

The punks cursed their luck and, resigned, dejectedly pulled out change, knives, driver’s licenses, and other things from their pockets. After driving them off, Russell picked through the pile on the ground. The largest bill among the change was a $20, and after tossing out the coins, there was a total of $80.

“Not even a credit card...”

Russell sighed, then picked up a folding knife. To his surprise, he also found an Asian driver’s license. Judging by the photo, it was a pretty-boy face—probably a college student who often got bullied by these punks.

Russell took the license for himself with a clear conscience. In the eyes of Americans, Asian facial features were so indistinct that everyone looked the same. Put Dong X Damu and the two Jay Chous together, and they’d never be able to tell them apart.

...

Bar!

It was already 8 p.m. Russell spent $10 at KFC for dinner. Honestly, the meal was so big he couldn’t finish it.

After dinner, Russell crossed two streets to the bar. Under the speechless gaze of the staff, he tossed down a $10 tip and ordered a glass of ice water.

The music in the bar was soft. Many people gathered here with friends after work. Russell found a corner and waited for Cross to arrive.

He wasn’t worried that Cross wouldn’t be able to find him. For a top-tier assassin, locating a rookie like him would be a piece of cake.

Time ticked by. Russell drank two glasses of ice water in a row, but his expression remained calm. He maintained an air of composure and poise, showing no impatience. He knew Cross was definitely watching him from the shadows, so he needed to project the aura of an expert to make the upcoming meeting go smoothly.

These were little negotiation tricks—simple, practical, and an easy way to seize the initiative.

“Ring ring~~~ ring ring~~~”

The phone rang. Russell glanced at the number, the corners of his mouth lifting in a calm smile. He answered and put the phone to his ear.

Cross’s voice was still low, hoarse, and magnetic. He said coldly, “Damn it, I’ve been looking for you for two hours and still couldn’t find you. Where the hell are you hiding?”