Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 244 The Final Chapter of Blood and Iron

"Bang!" The bullet grazed Mr. K's scalp and struck the metal frame, sending sparks flying.

The man was lying in ambush around the corner with a large-caliber Colt revolver and almost hit Mr. K.

Mr. K quickly hid in a corner and waved to stop his young men from going forward.

Just as he was about to peek out to take a look, another bullet hit the corner, sending stone chips flying.

Mr. K would occasionally provoke the other party to fire, while counting whether the other party had finished firing all their bullets.

After firing all six revolver bullets, Mr. K ejected his pistol and began suppressing the enemy with a barrage of fire.

Peeking out again, they saw that the other person had already started moving rapidly along the tunnel.

As Mr. K got up to chase after the enemy, he pressed the button with lightning speed, letting the magazine slip out. He then pulled a new magazine from his pocket, loaded it, and cocked the gun at the same time.

The most impressive thing about this pistol is its incredibly fast reload speed.

Mr. K followed the man's figure from afar, walking at a leisurely pace.

But perhaps during this brief interval, the gunman had time to reload, and he suddenly turned around and fired another shot.

The bullet grazed Mr. K's ear, creating a long, continuous, piercing auditory hallucination in his mind.

"Damn it!" Mr. K was furious. He took the Winchester lever-action rifle from his back and fired without even aiming!
The moment the index finger pulled the trigger, the gun recoiled violently backward!
"Hole--!!!"

A tremendous roar reverberated through the confined space! Large-caliber bullets shot out! The gunman hurriedly dodged to the left, but slipped and fell in the process.

The sheer force of the large-caliber bullet made the opponent's legs go weak.

Before the enormous recoil had completely dissipated, Mr. K's right hand moved instinctively—his five fingers clenched and pressed down hard on the horseshoe-shaped lever guard.

The action was clean and efficient. The lever activated the internal mechanism, and with a crisp metallic clang, the empty cartridge case was ejected from the chamber. The cartridge case tumbled and traced a brass arc before landing with a clink.

Almost simultaneously with the lever being pressed to its lowest point, his right arm muscles tensed again, and he swung it upwards without hesitation! The lever guard swiftly returned to its original position, completing a perfect cycle: lifting the next bullet from the tubular magazine and precisely feeding it into the chamber, while the hammer clicked open to fire!
The entire process—from firing, recoil, pressing down the lever to eject the shell, and swinging up the lever to launch the shell—is completed in one smooth motion, as fast as lightning, taking less than a second.

The cold steel seemed to come alive in his hands, each movement imbued with a violent yet precise mechanical beauty. Before the muzzle had even fully stabilized, he held his breath again, locking the sights firmly onto the next desperately fleeing figure.

"boom!"

The bullet struck the man's feet, terrifying him to the point of near madness. He flung his pistol away and knelt on the corridor floor with a thud, pleading loudly, "I surrender! Spare my life!"

Mr. K's face was full of anger as he fiercely fired bullet after bullet at the side of him.

Hearing bullets exploding around his ears, beneath him, and against the walls, the man kept closing his eyes and trembling, as if the next shot would kill him instantly.

An overwhelming fear caused him to wail uncontrollably, and his crotch became wet.

Mr. K walked up to him while firing bullets. By then, he was out of bullets. Mr. K raised his rifle and smashed it into the back of his head with the butt.

The man fell forward without uttering a sound, blood gushing from his head. It was unclear whether he was dead or alive.

Mr. K's two men had already surrounded the enemy and tied them up tightly with ropes.

"Pah! Scumbag!" Mr. K spat on his head, then saw the urine seeping from his trouser leg. Recalling the fear of the bullet grazing his ear, he also felt a tightness in his lower abdomen.

So he simply unbuckled his belt, pulled out his "pistol," and fired another warm water bullet at the person lying on the ground.

The two young men stared at him, completely dumbfounded...
.
Inside the Waldorf Astoria Hotel's ballroom, the final brilliant chord of the William Tell Overture still lingered in the air. Even the waiters setting the dishes, the plainclothes security personnel, and many others at the Waldorf Astoria, whether they knew about it or not, all focused their attention on the band members, their faces showing appreciative smiles.

The conductor on stage did not put down his baton. His gaze swept over Astor IV, and after receiving a barely perceptible nod, he quickly turned to the orchestra.

"Bang Bang Bang!"

The conductor tapped the edge of the table and said seriously, "Prepare for the next piece."

The musicians flipped through the sheet music almost seamlessly, and when the conductor saw that everyone was ready, he waved his baton again, and a brand new, light and gorgeous melody instantly rang out.

"The Poet and the Peasant Overture" is a masterpiece by Franz von Suppé. Its cheerful and lively rhythm perfectly matches the atmosphere of the banquet, masking the subtle changes that are taking place.

At the edge of the crowd, the senior executive's confusion deepened. His most trusted assistant, Connor, had gone to Porter's office and hadn't returned yet; another of his men had gone to the boiler room to deliver a minor message, but hadn't come back either.

He had a bad feeling, and even felt that he shouldn't linger here any longer; he should at least go and see what had happened for himself.

The senior executive was about to leave when he felt like he was being watched. When he looked to his side alertly, he didn't see anyone staring at him in that direction.

But this fleeting glance also revealed something even more shocking: out of the corner of his eye, he saw King Astor IV's cold-faced bodyguard quietly and quickly weaving through the crowd, heading directly in his direction.

"I've been exposed! I might have been exposed." The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water. The senior manager frowned, silently left his seat, as if wanting to get some fresh air, and walked slowly toward the staff entrance leading to the hotel's back-of-house area.

His steps were precisely on the lively rhythm of "The Poet and the Peasant," using the music as cover to conceal his racing heartbeat and true intentions.

Larry stood in the shadows on the second floor, noticing that the man who had been so well disguised was about to run away. He then revealed himself and gave King Astor IV a deep look.

King Astor IV was also keeping an eye on the situation. His bodyguard had already locked onto the manager he and Matthew had noticed earlier. Seeing that their most important target might be distracted, he sped up and rushed out.

As soon as the senior manager reached the entrance of the passageway, he was blocked by a cart in front of the logistics passage. Two people dressed as waiters stood calmly in the doorway.

Instead of barging in, the senior manager turned and called out to a colleague a few feet away who was teaching his subordinates how to plate food, "Hey! Time to go out and pick up the goods. Mr. Potter personally notified us!"

The man paused, then turned and asked, "Mr. Potter? What goods?"

The senior executive pursed his lips and muttered, "Who knows?"

The man had no choice but to leave, but naturally, he was stopped by the waiter, who said that the cart was broken and asked him to wait a while.

While the two sides were arguing, the senior manager suddenly stretched out his arm and pushed the cart over it nimbly.

It was rare to see him so composed. In fact, Astor IV's bodyguards had already rushed close, but missed catching him by just two feet.

"What are you still standing there for? They've all run away! Get out of my way!" The bodyguard, unable to jump over the cart like the other person, hurriedly shouted at the two waiters.

The senior executive was extremely cunning. He ran out along the logistics corridor, casually threw off his Astor Hotel coat, and hailed a horse-drawn carriage on the street.

"To the Lower East Side, quick!"

He climbed into the carriage and calmly gave the order. The carriage immediately started moving and, after passing through several blocks to the north, the senior executive on board changed the destination again.

The carriage suddenly veered north, then abruptly turned east, navigating wildly through the intricate streets of Lower Manhattan.

The coachman was furious with the passenger who kept changing his destination. He angrily reined in his horse and turned to the passenger behind him, saying, "Don't you want to think about where you really want to go first?"

But then he was shocked to find that the carriage was completely empty. He didn't know when the passenger had disappeared, and the seat was left with only a pretty lace shirt.

Fifteen minutes later, the senior executive rode in another carriage into a maze-like area near the East River in the Lower East Side, a mix of dilapidated apartments, abandoned warehouses, and slaughterhouses still operating at night.

The air was thick with the stench of river water, animal blood, and rotting garbage; this was a corner forgotten by the New York sun.

By this time, the senior manager had changed into a shabby set of casual clothes, just like many ordinary employees in the lower city who were struggling to make ends meet. He got off at a street corner, dismissed the carriage, and after cautiously looking around, quickly slipped into an old brick building that reeked of fish and mildew—ostensibly a warehouse of the long-closed "United Pickled Goods Trading Company."

Meanwhile, Matthew, who had been keeping a close eye on suspicious individuals on the periphery, and Astor IV's security chief also appeared at the street corner.

The two exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with questions for each other.

Should I follow them now? What should I do if I get inside?
The security supervisor muttered in a low voice, "...Or we could wait, the situation inside is unclear."

Matthew concealed himself, peeking out half an eye to carefully observe the target building—three stories high, a brick and stone structure, with most windows sealed off, except for one window high on the side that seemed to be occupied. The only entrance was a heavy wooden door covered with sheet metal.

Matthew turned to the security captain and said, "We still have to go in, even though it's very dangerous, but it's the only way to do justice to Mr. Astor..."

The two men carried the hopes of King Astor IV, who was determined to rescue the innocent child.

The security supervisor hesitated for a moment before nodding, and the two men, each armed with their own weapons, began to quickly approach the building, slipping along the street corner.

Although this was only their second time working together, the two did feel a sense of familiarity. Matthew walked in front, holding his automatic pistol, while the security supervisor next to him simply threw off his hat, covering his advance while moving with Matthew.

The two walked to the back of the building, where a rusty fire ladder stood on the mottled wall.

Matthew looked at the other person, holstered his pistol under his arm, and silently climbed up the fire escape to the third floor.

The security supervisor, holding a Colt pistol, stood vigilantly by the wall, watching Matthew's next move.

Matthew finally climbed to the third floor. He crouched low and approached the window, then pulled out the pistol from his pocket again.

Peeking through a crack in a somewhat broken window, the sight inside made Matthew's pupils shrink slightly.

A seven- or eight-year-old girl was tied to a wooden chair in the center of the room, her mouth gagged with a rag, her face pale and streaked with tears, her eyes wide with terror. The only other people in the room were the man who had just escaped from the hotel and another burly man with a gun holster at his waist.

The senior manager was complaining vehemently to the other party, pointing rapidly to the door and shouting, "...So, now listen to my explanation, and take this child away immediately..."

The tall, burly man frowned and asked doubtfully, "So, you only have suspicions, and haven't even checked to see if your men have really failed?"

The senior manager frowned and said, "If I had left even a moment later, they would have caught me! Forget about any damn review."

The tall, burly man nodded and said, "...So, you just suspected it? But you really didn't go and check? Oh, how could that be? We have so many people at the Astor Hotel, how could they be wiped out so easily? If you ask me, Karl, aren't you being too paranoid?"

Instead of rushing forward, Matthew retreated to the fire platform on the third floor and waved his arm to the security supervisor downstairs, signaling him to wait in front.

The security supervisor understood and walked to the heavy iron gate with his gun.

Matthew returned to the window and saw that the two had reached an agreement in a short time. The senior manager took the little girl and retreated first, while the burly man, being a stranger, went to investigate the Waldorf Hotel as an observer.

After the two agreed, the burly man, with one hand on the holster at his waist, quietly walked downstairs.

The supervisor, however, walked toward the little girl with a ferocious expression.

"boom!!!!!!!"

A deafening crash immediately erupted downstairs! Wood chips and scraps of sheet metal flew everywhere, and the tremendous sound and vibration seemed to shake the entire building!
The senior manager upstairs was startled by the sudden loud noise, cursed, and instinctively drew his revolver and rushed to the door to check!

The instant he left the girl, Matthew leaped through the window, gestured for her to be quiet, and swiftly pulled her chair to the window, then moved it to the fire platform outside.

At this moment, the building suddenly became noisy, with shouts and gunshots mingling together. The two who had just been discussing things were now retreating back to the third floor while firing their guns.

Matthew heard more than one gunshot coming from the doorway. He quickly looked around and learned the truth – the security supervisor's backup team had arrived just in time, and they must have been the ones who blew open the heavy wooden door.

The senior manager rushed back in a panic, weapon in hand, only to find the room empty; the little girl was gone.

"Damn it, someone's coming! The girl's gone!" the supervisor shouted to the burly man.

The man ran upstairs with heavy steps, glanced at the supervisor, and said with a sinister look, "Run! Don't worry about the little girl! Get out of here right now."

The senior manager, however, said with a ferocious expression, "I planted a bomb on the first floor. When they break in, I'll send them to meet their maker!!"

Matthew frowned slightly. He had originally planned to leave after rescuing the people, not wanting to get involved in someone's death for no reason. But now he didn't hesitate any longer. He quickly peeked out the window, and after confirming that the two people had their backs to him, he turned around and went back into the room.

However, when he broke in this time, he accidentally stepped on a wine bottle by the window, and the bottles instantly crashed and shattered onto the floor...

The two of them had just turned around to see what was going on.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two crisp, short, and highly penetrating gunshots rang out in the confined space! The muzzle flashes instantly illuminated the dimly lit room!
The senior manager and the guard who had just rushed to the door each had a perfectly precise, almost symmetrical blood hole appear between their eyebrows! Their bodies stiffened abruptly, then they fell straight backward, crashing heavily to the floor with a dull thud.

The gunfire was interrupted by the second explosion downstairs.

Matthew frowned as he looked at the two corpses, then stepped over to the girl, cut the ropes binding her with his knife, and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

The girl was so frightened that she trembled and could barely cry.

“It’s alright, child. Your father sent us to take you home.” His voice was unusually calm, carrying an undeniable authority.

Immediately, Matthew turned and yelled downstairs, "Stop! I've already killed them both!"

The security supervisor downstairs heard Matthew's shouts and quickly ordered his men to stop the attack.

Matthew wrapped the girl tightly in his dark coat, held her in his arms, and shielded her from the blood on the ground.

Then, Matthew carried the girl down the stairs. When they passed the two corpses, Matthew didn't pay any special attention to them.

After reuniting with the team downstairs who had just finished clearing the area, Matthew finally let out a long sigh of relief.

"Target cleared, hostage safe," Matthew told the security supervisor.

“Alright! You can leave here now. Mr. Astor’s carriage will be here soon.” The security supervisor nodded and gave orders to his subordinates. The team members began to climb up to the second floor to check the situation.

Ten minutes later, an unmarked, enclosed carriage emerged from a quiet alley, rolled across the damp cobblestones, and quickly left the area shrouded in sin and stench, merging into the vast and dark veins of New York.

Inside the carriage, the still-shaken girl trembled as she accepted a piece of milk candy wrapped in oil paper from Matthew as the carriage jolted along.

The rescue operation began to the cheerful melody of "The Poet and the Peasant" and ended silently in the bloodshed of the abandoned warehouse on the banks of the East River.

Inside the carriage, King Astor IV looked at Matthew with approval and said sincerely, "Come work for me, Mr. Browning, and I'll give you a good price!"

Matthew smiled at Astor, a regretful smile on his face. "Thank you for your kind offer, but I have to rush back to Boston for my wedding! There's a girl waiting for me there... But if you really want me to accompany you, why not consider buying my pistol? You've seen its power!"

King Astor IV glanced at Matthew, then at the automatic pistol he offered, and said with a hint of regret, "This gun has indeed made a very good impression on me... However, could you perhaps reconsider?"

Matthew smiled and turned to King Astor IV, saying, "If you ever really need my help in the future, ask my brother, Larry! I'll answer his call."

　There will be another chapter updated at midnight.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)