His ears were ringing, half his face was numb, and even his brain seemed to have stopped working. He sat motionless on the ground, as if he'd been beaten senseless, with fresh blood streaming from his nostrils and the corner of his mouth.

Another burly man snapped out of it, quickly walked over to the fallen newspaper, picked it up, and felt its weight in his hand. He immediately tore the newspaper open, only then realizing that a watermelon knife had been hidden inside.

"Second Brother, look." The burly man hurriedly handed the watermelon knife to the bald man. The bald man took it, turned it over and over in his hands, then grinned, tilting his head and licking the corner of his mouth. Carrying the watermelon knife, he walked toward James Carter.

When he reached James Carter, the bald man raised the watermelon knife and tapped it on his head, cursing with a laugh, "Fuck your mother, you little brat, you think you can kill me? Why don't you take a look in the mirror! Let me teach you today—watermelon knives aren't for stabbing, they're fucking for chopping." As he spoke, he turned his head and shouted, "David Clark, hold down his hand for me. Today, I want one of his hands."

"Heh heh." The man called David Clark let out a strange laugh, darted over to James Carter, kicked him to the ground without a word, then pressed his knee into James Carter's lower back and pinned his right hand firmly to the ground.

It was only at this moment that James Carter's consciousness returned to normal. He struggled desperately, trying to push the burly man off him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break free.

The bald man looked at James Carter's hand, the corners of his mouth curling into a cruel and chilling grin. He raised the watermelon knife high, aimed at James Carter's wrist, and made as if to bring it down with all his might.

At this critical moment, two beams of bright light suddenly shot down the street, dazzling the bald man so much he couldn't open his eyes. Before he could react, a piercing roar came rapidly closer to his ears.

"Second Brother, watch out!" The burly man who had been pinning James Carter down let out a strange cry, then lunged forward with all his strength, knocking the bald man far away.

The two of them tumbled together and fell by the roadside. At the very instant they were thrown aside, a sedan roared up, wind howling, and stopped right where the bald man had just been standing.

Staring at the sudden appearance of the car, both the bald man and his henchman were dumbfounded. James Carter, who had just sat up from the ground, was also stunned. Before he could think, the car door suddenly opened, and a deep voice came from inside: "Get in."

James Carter looked up into the car, froze for a moment, then scrambled in on all fours, rolling and crawling.

As soon as he got in, the person inside slammed on the gas, and the sedan roared off in a flash.

"Fuck!" The bald man jumped up from the ground, stomping his feet in rage as he watched the car speed away. "Fuck your mother, if you've got guts, don't run!"

But the sedan was already far away, and no one inside could hear his curses.

Inside the car.

James Carter sat in the front passenger seat, his face deathly pale, gasping for breath. That was way too close—if the car had come even a moment later, Edward King would have chopped off his hand for sure.

Thinking of this, he quickly turned his head to look at the driver, exclaiming in surprise, "How... how is it you?"

"Just happened to be passing by."

The driver looked to be in his thirties, but thanks to good maintenance, he was actually older than he appeared. He wore a black suit and a white shirt, no tie, and his collar was unbuttoned. This getup made him look just like any office worker.

James Carter knew him—or more accurately, had seen him before, but didn't know his name.

He was a regular at the bar owned by James Carter's older brother, William Carter. James Carter often went to his brother's bar and had seen this man many times. The reason he noticed him was because he was odd: in the bar, he always sat in the most secluded corner, which seemed to have become his exclusive seat. Also, he was always alone, and always drank just one pitcher of beer.

Even though he'd seen him so many times, James Carter had never spoken to him, nor had he seen him talk to anyone else. He was clearly a handsome and familiar-looking man, but he gave off a cold vibe that made him hard to approach.

He never would have dreamed that, in his moment of crisis, it would be this man who suddenly appeared and saved him.

"Don't believe it?" Seeing James Carter staring blankly at him, the man asked with a smile.

Even so, though he was smiling, James Carter felt a chill. His smile was completely insincere, more like a mask.

"Why?" The man suddenly changed the subject and asked.

James Carter was caught off guard by the question and asked in confusion, "Why what?"

The man turned his head, his deep gaze falling on James Carter's face. He stared for a moment, then looked back at the road and said slowly, "Why did those thugs go after you so viciously?"

James Carter fell silent. After a long while, he said in a low voice, "Because I want to kill him."

"Why?"

Chapter 2 Acquaintance

"My best friend was killed by him."

The man glanced at James Carter in puzzlement.