My absurd experiences in North America over the years

The darkness in the room was like an impenetrable wall.

Li Fu sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the tin wardrobe, holding the Glock pistol in his hand. The gun was loaded, the safety was off, and his finger was on the outside of the trigger guard.

His breathing was so light that if you didn't listen carefully, you could hardly detect the presence of a living person in the room.

Occasionally, the mournful cries of one or two stray cats, like the wailing of a baby, drifted from the alley outside the window. In the distance, the engine sounds of large trucks could be heard intermittently in the night wind on the highway.

He glanced down at his phone screen; it was 12:40.

As the night deepened, it became a dark and stormy night.

He turned on his phone and played a recording on repeat.

Inside was a pre-recorded snoring sound, not too loud, not too soft, because the room had extremely poor soundproofing, just loud enough for people outside the rental to hear.

Then, he stood up and silently slipped into the tin wardrobe, leaving a gap of less than half a centimeter.

The coldness of the metal seeped through his T-shirt, feeling chilly against his spine. He adjusted his posture, making sure he was crouching steadily, with the gun pointed downwards at the ground.

His fingers rested on the trigger guard, his thumb on the safety, ready to be released at any moment.

The next moments passed like a snail crawling in the darkness. He could hear his own heartbeat, steady and powerful, one beat at a time.

1:20 a.m.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, so light that Li Fu would have almost never noticed them if he hadn't been holding his breath and waiting.

Soon, the footsteps stopped at the door.

Then came a deathly silence.

Li Fu peered through the crack in the cabinet door.

The room was extremely dark, with only a sliver of streetlight shining through the gap in the curtains, casting a thin, grayish-white line on the floor.

His gaze passed through the crack and landed on the door. The door was made of wood and was at least ten years old. The lock cylinder was the most common kind of pin tumbler lock, which was probably as easy as paper to a professional assassin like him.

Sure enough, a dozen seconds later he heard a very faint "click" sound, the spring in the lock cylinder was turned, and then the door opened.

A beam of flashlight shone through the crack in the door. The beam was thin and not dazzling, but bright enough for someone outside to roughly see what was in the room.

The phone was still playing snoring sounds, and there was no unusual movement in the room.

About five or six seconds later, the door was slowly pushed open.

Two people suddenly rushed in.

The leader was named Victor, 32 years old, a Spaniard, who had seven years of experience as a mercenary in South America. He was ruthless and cruel. After retiring from the military, he became an assassin through an introduction, and his code name on the dark web was Butcher.

Following behind Victor was Mikhail, 26 years old. The two were partners in name only, but master and apprentice in reality. With their experience as mercenaries, they had been working together for five years, from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea, from the Middle East to North America, and had almost never failed.

Mikhail was half a head taller and had broader shoulders than Victor, but moved more lightly, like a shadow with legs. His codename on the dark web was Ghost.

Winslop spent $1.6 million on the dark web to hire them.

This price isn't arbitrary. Victor and Mikhail have fixed fees: 400,000 for a single person, and double that for those with elite bodyguards.

If someone has a military background, the price doubles.

Li Fu has a military background and an astonishingly high win rate in underground boxing matches; these two factors combined are equivalent to doubling his chances.

Viktor and Mikhail were both wearing dark tactical uniforms, which were durable, cut-resistant, and would not make any extra noise during operations.

Li Fu could vaguely see through the gap in the wardrobe that they were wearing black hoods, only their eyes and mouths were visible, and they were wearing thin gloves and holding their guns with extremely standard posture.

The barrel is longer than that of a regular pistol, which is probably a silencer.

Victor began to move toward the bed.

His steps were small, with his toes touching the ground first, followed by the ball of his foot. Each step seemed to be measuring a distance, accurate to the centimeter.

Mikhail stood guard by the door, his gun pointed deep into the room, providing cover for Viktor.

This is a standard two-person house search tactic.

One person searches while the other provides cover, ensuring a clear plan for advance and retreat.

The original owner of Li Fu's body had undergone countless such training sessions in the army, and could recite every step with his eyes closed.

Their target was "Li Fu" in bed.

The cell phone next to my pillow is emitting a steady snoring sound.

Victor approached, listened intently for a moment, then suddenly turned around, pointed his gun at the bed, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet pierced the bedding with a slightly muffled sound.

This is not the sound of a bullet entering a human body.

He immediately realized something was wrong, stepped forward and lifted the blanket. The pillow was askew, and inside was a human silhouette made of bedding.

The phone lay alone on one side of the pillow, the sound of breathing continuing.

Victor paused slightly.

That look of surprise lasted for a fraction of a second.

According to intelligence, the target is confirmed to be here tonight, without any help or precautions.

Tonight should be the perfect time for a hunt.

But there was no one in bed.

He quickly retreated to the wall and exchanged a glance with Mikhail.

The same message flashed in both of their eyes.

It's very likely a trap.

The air in the room suddenly tightened.

Li Fu secretly observed their actions.

Victor was momentarily taken aback; he should have acted immediately.

However, considering that there is another assassin on the other side and it is unknown whether there will be any helpers later, it would be inappropriate to make a move rashly.

Victor scanned the room again.

His gaze shifted from the bed to the table; it was impossible for someone to hide under the table. Then he looked at the window, and it seemed impossible to hide behind the curtains either.

He raised his hand and gestured to Mikhail.

All that's left is the metal wardrobe.

The two of them silently circled around to the left and right sides of the wardrobe. The front of the wardrobe faced the door, while the sides were bare metal.

They pressed themselves against the wall, guns pointed directly in front of the wardrobe. If anyone rushed out, they would be exposed to crossfire from two lines of guns the instant they exited.

Victor stretched out his left hand and slowly reached towards the wardrobe door.

The moment his fingers touched the doorknob, the wardrobe door burst open from the inside.

The metal door slammed outwards with tremendous momentum, landing squarely on Victor's outstretched left hand.

The sound of cracking finger bones echoed like popping beans in the quiet room. Victor groaned, and the gun slipped from his hand, spinning and flying under the bed.

But he didn't back down. Instead, he gritted his teeth and drew a black tactical knife from the scabbard at his waist. The blade flashed coldly in the darkness as he thrust it directly towards the wardrobe.

At that moment, Mikhail fired his gun.

The silencer reduced the gunshot to a muffled "plop".

The bullet hit the metal wardrobe, making a hole, and bits of clothing inside flew out.

But Li Fu was no longer in the wardrobe.

The instant he burst through the door, his body, like a spring, slid out from under the cabinet, skimming the ground, then passed between Victor's legs and behind him.

This move is commonly used in jungle warfare.

He was one of the best reconnaissance soldiers, and his skills were naturally superb.

Victor reacted with lightning speed, turning around abruptly, the blade tracing an arc in the air.

But it was too late.

Li Fu was faster than him, and his gun was faster than his knife.

Two gunshots rang out, breaking the silence of the night.

Victor was shot in the forehead and chest.

His tall body collapsed to the ground.

Mikhail immediately adjusted his gun and fired two shots in Li Fu's direction.

Li Fu caught a glimpse of Mikhail's movements out of the corner of his eye and reacted before the gunshot rang out. Using Victor's falling body as cover, he rolled to the side and hid on the other side of the bed.

Two bullets grazed his shoulder and struck the wall behind him, splashing cement debris all over his neck.

Mikhail lost sight of his target and quickly retreated, leaning against a corner of the wall. He knew his mentor, who had brought him into the profession, was dead. A mixture of sadness and anger made his breathing rapid.

"come out……"

He shouted in Li Fu's direction.

Li Fu did not answer. He held the knife in his left hand and the gun in his right. His left shoulder was burning with pain; a bullet had grazed it and cut a gash.

However, he still appeared calm.

Because the advantage is now in his hands.

The gunshot must have alerted the others in the building, and someone would definitely call the police.

The police may not arrive for a long time.

However, the assassin dared not gamble.

Those who live on the edge of a knife have only a chance of survival if they are extremely cautious.

Having worries will make your mind chaotic.

This is a real psychological advantage.

Mikhail was clearly aware of this as well.

He is now in a dilemma.

He didn't dare to rush forward rashly, but instead stayed close to the wall, moving step by step towards the door.

He was adjusting his angle, not to attack, but to retreat.

Victor is dead, and the target is far more difficult to deal with than described in the intelligence. If the stalemate continues, he may not be able to leave either.

This Ukrainian isn't afraid of death.

He and Victor had both crawled out of piles of dead bodies; death was as commonplace to them as eating and drinking.

But he cannot die in vain.

Only by staying alive can I avenge Victor.

Li Fu certainly wouldn't let him go.

He took a deep breath, listened to the other person's footsteps, and threw the dagger in his hand. The dagger drew a silver arc in the darkness.

Mikhail instinctively dodged to the side.

The dagger grazed his ear and clattered into the wooden door behind him.

The act of dodging produced an even louder noise.

This was the moment Li Fu had been waiting for.

He immediately stood up and fired a series of shots in a very short time.

The Glock pistol was not equipped with a silencer, and the gunshot pierced the night once again, the bullet shooting out like lightning.

His marksmanship was extremely accurate, but his first shot missed; sound-based positioning wasn't always effective in the dark.

Besides, the opponent is also a master.

However, his attack cornered Mikhail, and with the help of the dim light, he accurately located the assassin's position.

The second shot hit the assassin's right shoulder directly.

Mikhail was incredibly tough. After being shot, his body lurched uncontrollably, and the gun slipped from his hand. However, he caught the falling pistol with his other hand and attempted to retaliate immediately.

Li Fu did not give him that chance, and fired again, hitting his left arm and then his right knee.

Mikhail fell forward like a felled tree, his face hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Li Fu stepped forward, pointing his gun at the assassin lying on the ground.

Mikhail has not yet lost consciousness.

He lay on the ground with a bloody hole in each of his left arm, right shoulder, and right knee. Blood gushed from the wounds, pooling into a small dark red puddle on the floor.

His hood was askew, revealing a pale face covered in sweat, with a resigned calm in his eyes.

"Who sent you?"

Li Fu pointed the gun at his head.

Mikhail's lips moved slightly, not to speak, but to bite something hard.

Li Fu stepped on his face, pinched his jaw with his thumb and forefinger, and twisted it sharply, dislocating his jaw immediately.

A cyanide capsule hidden in a back molar fell to the floor, looking like a tiny pearl in the dim light.

"Want to die? Not so easy," Li Fu squatted down, pressing the muzzle of his gun against Mikhail's temple.

Mikhail's lips twitched.

I don't know if I wanted to laugh or say something.

Li Fu tore a strip of cloth from his tactical vest, tied his hands behind his back, and then took out a roll of black electrical tape from his backpack and wrapped it around his neck several times.

Then he dragged Mikhail to the corner of the wall and made him sit against it.

He stood up, tucked the gun back into his waistband, walked to the door, and pulled the dagger that was nailed to the door.

Victor is dead.

Li Fu walked to the body, squatted down and began to search it. In the pocket of the tactical vest, there was only an encrypted mobile phone and a spare magazine.

He knew that professional assassins wouldn't carry anything that could prove their identity on their person.

Let's just stop here.

The room suddenly fell silent.

It was so quiet that you could hear his own breathing and Mikhail's heavy, suppressed panting from the corner of the wall.

Li Fu pulled over the chair and sat down opposite Mikhail, the muzzle of his gun resting on his knee, facing him.

The faint moonlight from outside the window shone through the gap in the curtains, illuminating his face and making the old scar that ran from his brow bone to his cheekbone shine.

"Now, we can talk," Li Fu said, knowing that the police would be arriving much later.

The police station naturally paid no attention to matters concerning the slums.

Mikhail leaned against the wall, blood still seeping from his right shoulder, staining his tactical uniform a deep black.

His face was as white as paper, and his lips were blue, but his gray-green eyes remained fixed on Li Fu without flinching or showing fear, only a cold scrutiny.

Li Fu pointed the gun at his knee. "Your leg is almost gone. If you don't get to the hospital soon, you'll die here from blood loss."

Mikhail continued to look at him coldly.

"If you want to live, tell me your employer's information," Li Fu said, knowing that the other party might not know that the employer was Winslop.

There is usually an intermediary between the assassin and the employer, or they communicate through the dark web, and neither knows the other's identity.

But what if there are some clues?

It's better to ruin an enemy's reputation than to kill them outright.

"Stop talking nonsense, just kill me!" Mikhail managed to say.

Li Fu stared at him for two seconds, chuckled softly, and then stood up.

He turned and walked to the window, pulled the curtains open a crack, and looked down at the street.

The streetlights were dim, and there was no one in sight.

Sure enough, the police wouldn't arrive anytime soon.