American comic: From Beijing with Love, starting with a mutant.

Wolverine doesn't care about suits; he only cares about bars.

That was one of the few places on his wandering journey where he could stop and have a sip of cheap bourbon.

Now, all that's left is a pile of burning charcoal and crooked beams.

"Bang bang bang!"

The dense barrage of bullets hitting Wolverine only slightly slowed down his beastly sprint.

Under the action of the self-healing factor, the bullet hole rapidly extruded the bullet and healed, emitting white smoke.

Someone shouted that they wanted to climb onto the pickup truck and run away, so Wolverine jumped onto the roof.

The adamantium alloy claws easily pierced through the sheet metal, pinning the driver and seat through the cab like a sandwich.

The King of Cards emerged from the ruins, tossed two playing cards between his fingers, and the cards spun and landed in the back of another pickup truck that was trying to reverse.

An explosion rang out, and half of the train carriage was blown into the air. The wheels spun a few times in mid-air before falling and crashing into the sand.

This is a one-sided, bloody massacre.

On the verge of violence, Stephen Chow, carrying his leather briefcase, looked like a construction site supervisor inspecting safety.

"what!"

The half-gangster's body was thrown by Wolverine, landing with a "splat" less than half a meter from Stephen Chow's feet, spraying blood everywhere.

Stephen Chow jumped back a small step in disgust, muttering, "Damn it! Don't you understand what throwing things from a high-rise is? You'll have to pay for the damage to the national key scientific research specimens inside!"

He dodged the stray bullets; there weren't many left.

Most of the bullets went after Logan, while Stephen Chow squatted down next to a body that looked relatively "intact".

He touched the dead man's pocket, pulled out two wads of crumpled US dollars, shook off the blood, and stuffed them into his pocket.

His movements were practiced and deliberate, conveying a sense of accomplishment as he checked materials and put them into storage.

He ignored the gangsters being dealt with by Wolverine next to him; his attention was entirely on another pickup truck that had overturned into a ditch, with black smoke billowing from its hood.

A pickup truck overturned in a ditch, with smoke still coming out of the front.

The driver's cab door was halfway open, and the radio inside was crackling; someone was talking.

Stephen Chow walked over, kicked the remaining car window glass to shatter it, and leaned half his body inside to listen.

After waiting for a while, there was still no response from the other side.

The gruff voice boomed from the loudspeaker again: "Squad Three, report. Has the target been cleared?"

Zhou Xingxing cleared his throat and replied in a clear and articulate voice: "Hello, this is the Nevada Desert War Damage Assets Processing Center."

"The third team you contacted has had its account forcibly closed due to suspected disorderly conduct. Is there anything else we can do to help you?"

There was a two-second pause on the other end of the communicator, then a shout rang out: "Who the hell are you?! Where are Number Three's men?!"

Stephen Chow sighed and said into the microphone, "Can't you understand human language? They're lining up to be reincarnated!"

"If you're in a hurry, I can put you in line. Just mention my name, and I'll give you a buy-one-get-one-free offer on urns."

"Listen, you scum!"

The other person's voice was hoarse and filled with malice: "No matter where you run, you're all going to die today!"

Stephen Chow squinted.

Hang up the communicator and get out of the carriage.

The battle in the distance has ended.

Wolverine stood amidst the wreckage, blood dripping from his steel claws.

He was surrounded by people lying in a circle; no one was left alive.

The wind whipped up dust and sand, sweeping past the corpses.

The King of Cards walked over, blood still seeping from the cut on his forehead.

"Who are you talking to?"

"The henchmen of the landslide."

Stephen Chow, carrying his suitcase, moved closer to the King of Cards, lowering his voice.

"I used to think that the stone collector was just angry that we dismantled his subordinate. Now it seems he's playing a much bigger game."

The King of Cards frowned, hastily wiping the blood and ash from his face with his sleeve: "What do you mean?"

"The radio just said that when the landslide collapsed the hotel, it accidentally killed a high-ranking government official."

"So, do you think they might try to pin the blame on us?"

"This is a big problem."

The King of Cards touched the cut on his forehead.

Stephen Chow didn't respond. He silently took out a notebook from his inside pocket, ticked off the name "Logan Howlett," and muttered to himself:

"With its strong self-healing ability and incredible resilience, it's like a top-notch workhorse that can work through the night without needing any insurance for sudden death..."

Then turn to the next page and draw a big X over the name "landslide".

"As for this guy who plays with stones... he's a troublemaker, has ties to organized crime, and is now suspected of murdering a government official. He won't pass the political vetting; the recruitment plan is permanently canceled. Pah, scum!"

He closed the notebook and stuffed it back into his inner pocket.

Zhou Xingxing turned around and pulled out a crumpled bilingual (Chinese and English) letter of intent for labor cooperation.

"Cousin, when are you going to sign it? I can't wait!"

The King of Cards looked at the paper in front of him, then glanced at Stephen Chow.

The surrounding corpses were still warm.

Just minutes ago they were hit by a missile, and now they've been caught up in a plot to assassinate an official.

The Nevada sun was blazing overhead, making you feel dizzy.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

The King of Cards cursed, and his spittle almost flew onto Stephen Chow's face.

"You're still thinking about signing a contract at a time like this?!"

"The more dangerous it is, the more you should sign it!"

Stephen Chow patted the King of Cards on the shoulder with a meaningful expression.

"If you don't sign the contract, even if you're killed by a missile, it'll be considered an accidental death, and you won't even get any compensation!"

Wolverine shook the blood off his hands, retracted his claws into his bones, and walked up to the two men.

The tattered vest he wore hung on his muscles, giving him an aura of danger.

He stared at the piece of paper in Stephen Chow's hand.

"I don't care who you are, or what trouble you've gotten into."

"This is my territory. You not only brought flies here, but you also caused my bar to be blown to smithereens."

He took a step closer.

"Now, take your worthless piece of paper and this French swindler, and disappear from my sight."

Wolverine raised his hand, and with a "swoosh," three blood-dripping steel claws pressed directly against Stephen Chow's nose, the stench of blood assaulting his senses.

"Bring that piece of paper closer to me again, and I'll cut you up first."

Gambit took a half step back, knowing that if Logan went berserk, no one could stop him.

What's more, this Chinese agent has been stirring things up all along.

Stephen Chow stretched out two fingers, pinched Wolverine's middle adamantium claw, which was strong enough to cut through a tank, and pushed it aside with disdain.

"Dude, don't point those dangerous construction tools at the interviewer, okay? It'll easily lower your overall impression score."

"And can't you at least have a sense of first-come, first-served? You have to get in line if you want to apply. My cousin hasn't even been signed yet!"

"I'll get you a new one after he finishes signing it."

Stephen Chow gave him a smile: "We'll provide food and lodging, free psychological counseling, and guarantee to cure your bipolar disorder."

Wolverine's cheek twitched, and the veins on his arm bulged.

Having lived for over a hundred years and fought in two world wars, he swore he had never seen anyone so deserving of a beating!