Marvel's whitewashing cop, you want me to save the world?

Li En saw a bicycle leaning against the wall at the garage entrance.

The frame was covered in a layer of dust, the chain was dangling, and the front wheel was leaning against a cement pillar with peeling paint.

He walked over, lifted the car out, wiped his palms on the seat twice, and the dust kicked up and rolled twice under the fluorescent light.

I pressed my thumb on the tire; the rubber was still hard, and the valve cap wasn't loose.

He stepped on it, put his foot on the pedal, and pushed down.

Click click click.

The chain then emitted a series of dry, metallic scraping sounds.

We'll need to refuel on the way back.

As Lee rode his bicycle through the streets of Hell's Kitchen, he experienced a strange sense of detachment.

When patrolling in a police car, the view is often cut off by the frame of the windshield, and people on the street will take their hands out of their pockets and turn their faces away when they see a police car.

Riding a bicycle is different.

Slower speeds, closer to the sidewalk, and a much wider view than when driving.

When the homeless man in the alley saw him riding over, he instinctively reached into his coat.

Passing by a pawn shop whose sign was only half lit, the person standing at the door pushed something from his waist further inside.

Li En looked away and continued stomping.

Today was just another ordinary day.

boom.

The bicycle sank a bit, and the rear wheel made a squeaking, deflated sound.

He pushed off the ground with his right foot and stopped, bending down to look behind him.

There was a nail stuck in the rear tire, the nail head was still reflecting the light, and the tire was flat.

They've already started exerting their strength so quickly?

The vehicle killer is really powerful; it doesn't even spare bicycles.

He got back on, and even though the back tire was flat, he could still ride.

Just as I kicked the pedal twice, a person appeared from around the corner ahead.

The man was carrying a cardboard box, which was piled up so high that it blocked his chin.

He was raising his right foot to step on the puddle of vomit left on the ground by someone.

The moment the sole of his shoe came into contact with the vomit, his right foot slid into the air, his whole body tilted to the side and backward, and the cardboard box slipped from his hands and flipped over.

Several bottles containing an unknown liquid were thrown at Li En.

Li En put both feet on the ground and jumped back the moment his buttocks left the bicycle seat.

Bang! Boom!

The can shattered when it hit the bicycle, and the liquids inside exploded on a small scale as they mingled, instantly engulfing the bicycle in flames.

The man got up from the ground, looked at the bicycle engulfed in flames, and quickly ran around it.

"Officer, I am a high school chemistry teacher. These items are for class and are definitely not dangerous items."

As he spoke, he quickly took a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it over.

Li En took it and glanced at it. It did indeed say "High School Chemistry Teacher" and the name was Walter.

He shoved the business card into his pocket, and seeing Walter's nervous and anxious expression, he comforted him:

"It's okay, you go to school first."

Walter was visibly taken aback for a moment, then quickly thanked him:

"Thank you, officer!"

After saying that, he turned around and glanced at the extinguished flames and the bicycle that had been burned to charcoal.

He reached into his pants pocket and touched his empty wallet, then hesitantly pulled it out.

"No need, it was just an accident. I wasn't planning on keeping the bicycle anyway."

Li En reached out and patted Walter on the shoulder, somewhat relieved.

I never expected there to be such a good teacher; he's such an honest person.

It's so rare to meet someone like this in Hell's Kitchen.

Walter thanked him again and left in a hurry.

Li En looked at the bicycle, which was now just a skeleton, and sighed.

Is this the power of a title?

It has reached the level of the power of rules.

He threw his bicycle into a trash can at the alley entrance and decided to walk.

If they continue to forcibly use vehicles, who knows how the next one might explode.

After taking the first step, I walked faster and faster, gradually reaching the pace of race walking, but my breathing was steady and my calf muscles did not feel any soreness.

It took twenty minutes to get from the garage to the meeting point outside the port.

He had been to this meeting point before.

The last time was at night when I climbed over the wall wearing a woolen hat; this time it was broad daylight, and I walked in standing up.

Brock leaned against the hood of the car, a cigarette between his fingers, the ash already piled up and untouched.

He saw Li En walking across the street and his eyebrows twitched a few times.

This kid really walked here.

"What news?" Lee asked as he walked up to Brock.

Brock didn't answer, but first looked him up and down.

Li En today is not the same as before.

It was as if the thing that had been binding him had suddenly disappeared, and he felt much lighter.

Brock flicked away the cigarette ash.

"Both ports have large shipments tonight, the masked men will definitely come."

"Is this a deliberate hoax?" Li En leaned against the car, his gaze casually sweeping over the surroundings.

"Fake? How could that be?" Brock exhaled a puff of smoke.

"The goods that arrived this time are genuine, and the information is also true."

"The masked man never misses a mission; he has intelligence channels."

"Both sides have conspired to pull off a big operation. The goods will arrive as planned, the personnel will be dispatched as planned, and it would be best to kill that guy at the port while we're at it."

He put the cigarette in his mouth, turned his head to stare at Li En, and slowed his tone.

"Newbie, do you know what's the scariest thing about Hell's Kitchen?"

"Murderer? Gangster?"

Lee En thought that Hell's Kitchen, such a small neighborhood, was indeed dangerous and terrifying with so many gangsters.

"Bullshit. Murderers have their own logic, and gangs have their own rules. In the end, they're all just human."

Brock took the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the ground, then smothered the sparks with the sole of his shoe.

"The truly dangerous ones are those illogical lunatics."

He pointed to his face.

"For example, the masked man we're going to arrest today."

"Compared to serial killers, these so-called 'heroes of justice' are even more mentally unstable."

Brock turned around and patted the car door, the metal door making two muffled thuds.

"Go put on your bulletproof vest."

Li En walked to the back of the vehicle, opened the door, took the bulletproof vest out of the equipment bag, put it on, tightened the Velcro straps, and adjusted the shoulder straps to fit snugly.

Do you think masked men would kill police officers?

Brock pulled open the collar of his shirt a crack, revealing the bulletproof vest he was already wearing underneath, and smirked slightly.

"Those kinds of guys are all crazy, so of course we normal people have to take precautions."

Li En nodded, drew his Glock 17 from his waist, pushed the safety with his thumb, ejected the magazine, flipped it over in his hand to make sure it was full, and then pushed it back in.

He ran his hand along the gun, and it felt tighter than before.

The entry for "Special Forces King" has undergone several subtle changes.

He actually agreed with Brock's assessment of the masked man.

Because not long ago, he had also put on a mask and revealed his true self.

He thought a lot that night, and finally convinced himself to take action by saying, "Since I've accepted the mission, I have to complete it."

He went to the port to rescue Cortel because he told Monica at the police station's dispatch desk, "I will do my best."

If you make a promise, you have to keep it; otherwise, you won't be able to sleep.

After the inspection, the two returned to the car and closed their eyes to rest.

As night fell, the low whistles of ships could be heard from the direction of the port.

A cargo ship docked, its sidelights casting red and green streaks in the night.

The unloading crane started operating, and the chains on the winch made a heavy pulling sound as containers were hoisted one by one from the ship's hold onto the dock.

The port today is not like the last time Li En came, when there were only a few people.

The Razor Gang sent eighteen men, while the Amick Group sent twenty.

The dock was heavily armed, and the patrol team members' walkie-talkies crackled with electricity every few tens of seconds.

A sniper rifle was mounted on the watchtower, its barrel protruding from the gaps between the sandbags.

This level of protection demonstrates just how important the two shipments arriving tonight are.

Above the Razor Gang port, among the trees on the hillside.

A figure with a black headscarf covering his eyes and head, revealing only his chin, wearing a black bodysuit and work pants, and holding two iron rods, stood quietly in the shadows of the bushes.

If Lee En were face to face with him, she would recognize him as Matt Murdoch, the blind lawyer she had met at the Jiaoxi Bar.

The same masked man who appeared during Li En's operation last time.

Matt hasn't received the codename for the future Daredevil yet.

He tilted his head, his ear pointing towards the harbor, and twitched slightly.

"Waaaaah, Mommy..."

The child's cries kept pounding on his eardrums.

He clenched his teeth, gripped the short stick tightly with both hands, and felt a surge of heat rising in his heart.

Those bastards!

Matt gripped the short stick tightly with both hands.

He strode toward the port, his footsteps barely audible.

Step with your left foot when the wave reaches its highest point, and step with your right foot when the wave recedes back into the sea.

The crisp sound of a gun being cocked completely masked his two quick steps.

The biggest problem is that there's a sniper on the watchtower.

Matt determined the direction the other person was facing based on the strength of their heartbeat and decided to head towards the Razor Gang first.

The crying was coming from the port on this side.

The eighteen members of the Razor Gang were distributed in the unloading area and container aisles on the west side of the port.

Four people were smoking in the unloading area, and four others were patrolling in the container aisles. They were divided into two groups, walking at a steady pace, but their attention was focused on the outer perimeter.

They were waiting for the masked men to break in from the outside.

Matt climbed up the side of a stack of blue shipping containers that were piled up three times.

The soles of the shoes nestled in the grooves of the corrugated board of the shipping container, with the ridgeline pressing right in the middle of the arch of the foot, making no sound with each step.

After climbing to the top floor, he lay down and pressed his body against the metal sheet, the coldness of the metal seeping through his bodysuit to his chest.

He waited patiently for the gang members below to make a mistake.

Of the four smokers, one threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out.

The action of crushing the cigarette butt with the sole of his shoe shifted his center of gravity a few degrees to his left foot.

Matt leaped from the top of the container, tucking his legs together in mid-air before landing on the soles of his shoes, to the left and slightly behind a smoker.

He tapped the man on the back of the head with the short stick in his right hand.

With a muffled clang, the person swayed and fell to the ground.

Another smoker turned around upon hearing the sound, his gun halfway raised, when Matt's short stick struck his wrist.

Bang! The gun fell from his fingers.

Matt used his knee to deflect the gun to the side, and then used the short stick in his right hand to strike the tip of his chin from below, causing his pupils to lose focus.

The other two realized what was happening at the same time.

One man drew his gun, while the other pulled out a dagger and stabbed.

Matt sidestepped the dagger, simultaneously striking the gunman's hand with a short stick in his right hand.

A snap, the sound of finger bones breaking rang out, the gun slipped from his hand, Matt caught it, ejected the magazine and threw it onto the top of the container.

The dagger came at him again, but Matt parried it with the short stick in his left hand from the outside, while simultaneously leaning forward and thrusting his right shoulder in.

Bang! The other person's back slammed into the metal of the shipping container.

Matt bumped his head into his nose.

Crack! Blood gushed from his nostrils, and the man slid down the metal sheet and sat on the ground.

The scene quieted down.

Matt stood still, adjusting his breathing.

He crouched down, his fingers found a spent cartridge case on the concrete floor, and flicked it towards the other side of the container.

The cartridge case bounced twice when it hit the ground, colliding back and forth between the sheet metal and the concrete.

The sniper on the watchtower instantly turned towards the spent cartridge case.

Matt slipped through the unloading area and into the container aisle while the sniper turned his head.

The patrol team consisted of two people in front and two people behind, always keeping each other within sight.

Matt crouched down, laid the stick flat on the ground, and then flicked the end of the stick with his finger.

The short stick rolled across the ground and hit the base of the opposite container with a dull thud.

The two people in the back row turned their heads at the same time.

The two people in the front row are still walking forward.

The instant Matt flicked the stick, he circled around to the back of the two people in the back row from the other side.

He stood in the shadow of the container base, his body pressed against the metal.

In the fraction of a second that the two had just turned around and hadn't yet adjusted to the difference in light and shadow, they were still in a state of shock.

Matt struck the first man on the back of the knee with a short stick.

The man knelt on one knee, and the second blow struck the back of his neck, causing him to fall.

When the other man turned around, the gun was already pointed at Matt's chest, and he pulled the trigger.

Matt reached out his left hand, gripped the barrel, and pushed it upwards.

boom!

Sparks flew from the muzzle as the bullet struck the container, embedding itself in the metal.

Matt reached out his right hand and slammed it down on the inside of Matt's elbow joint from below.

The man's entire arm went numb, the gun was taken away, the magazine was removed and thrown into a corner.

The two people in the front row then turned around.

What they saw were two teammates lying on the ground and a silhouette standing in the shadows.

A black headscarf, a black bodysuit, and two short sticks in his hands.

One of them raised his hand and fired a shot.

The bullet flew towards the shadowy figure, but there was no one there anymore.

Matt ducked and sidestepped in the half-second they turned their heads, and the bullet hit the metal of the shipping container behind him.

He rolled along the ground to the feet of the two people in front of him, and swept the short stick across their ankles.

dong dong.

The two lost their balance almost simultaneously; one fell forward, and the other fell to the side.

Before the one who was falling forward even hit the ground, Matt's knee slammed into his chest.

Matt pressed the stick in his left hand against the neck of the person who was falling to the side. The carotid artery was compressed for two seconds, the person's eyes rolled back, and they passed out.

In a short period of time, most of the Razor Gang members fell to the ground.

The remaining few people, scattered along the edge of the dock and on the cargo ship, were quite far away. After hearing the gunshots, they rushed over.

People from the Amick Group at the nearby port were also approaching this area.

The twenty men were divided into four teams and advanced towards the unloading area on the west side from four directions simultaneously.

These are seasoned veterans with more experience in gunfights, and they know how to encircle a target area.

Matt listened carefully to the changes around him.

You can't just charge straight at it.

The enemy is gradually tightening their encirclement, and we are now in the last window of free movement before being completely surrounded.

He climbed onto the container and ran eastward from the top floor.

When I reached the eastern edge, I crouched down and heard two groups of people meeting below.

He pulled the last spent cartridge he had picked up from the ground from his waist and threw it northward.

The spent cartridge case landed fifty meters away in the middle of a pile of aluminum plates with a crisp, scattered sound.

bang bang bang...

Both teams fired in that direction at the same time.

Someone even pulled out a rocket and fired it in the direction of the sound.

Outside the port.

Li En, who was resting, suddenly felt something was wrong.

My heart was beating very fast, and my hands and feet were a little cold.

He quickly opened the car door and got out, scanning the surrounding pitch-black forest.

Suddenly, a red dot shot down from the sky.

"Brock, get out!"

Li En yelled and immediately ran over, picked up Brock who had just opened the car door, and ran away.

Whoosh~ Boom!

A rocket launched from the port accurately hit the police car, causing a violent explosion.

Lee En pressed down on Brock with his right hand and looked at the car that had been blown to pieces.

Damn, even stationary vehicles get bombed?

This title's power is just too overpowered!

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Brock continued to hurl profanities.

Having worked as a police officer in Hell's Kitchen for so many years, this is the first time I've been so close to death!

He stood up cursing, pulled out his gun, gripped it tightly, and roared angrily:

"Let's go, I'll wipe them all out!"

Li En pulled out a Glock 17 and said:

"With this kind of situation, our firepower is severely lacking; the enemy has even used rockets."

"There's nothing we can do; this operation wasn't approved by the bureau chief."

Brock also looked down at the small pistol in his hand.

The fighting inside is so intense, rockets are flying everywhere, going in now would be suicide.

But if the masked man really dies at the hands of the gang, then he definitely won't get the bounty.

They had to go and fire a couple of shots no matter what, even if it wasn't him and Li En who killed the person in the end, they could still hold their own.

The police car is just scrapped like this; how can we not make some money off it?

Brock's gaze shifted constantly as he gritted his teeth.

"Let's go, we'll look for an opportunity, and if all else fails, we'll retreat."

"OK."

Li En nodded and used his index finger to spin Glock twice.

The two men crouched low and approached the position of the firefight.

……