An American knife seller? No, please acknowledge me as your godfather.

Inside the train carriage.

With a crisp click of the lighter, Lynn slowly lit his second Marlboro.

Pale blue smoke filled the narrow space.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kane, sitting in the passenger seat, glancing at him every now and then through the rearview mirror.

His face showed a hesitant expression, clearly indicating that he was holding back something and feeling quite uncomfortable.

That perpetually cold, expressionless face paired with this conflicted expression looks quite comical.

A hint of a smile flashed in Lynn's eyes as he casually tossed half a pack of cigarettes and a lighter over.

Snapped!

Kane didn't even turn around, relying on his incredibly strong muscle memory to firmly grasp the cigarette pack in mid-air.

"Give me one." Lynn put her hands behind her head and lazily lifted her eyelids.

"Thank you, Boss."

Kane skillfully flicked out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, lit it, and took a deep drag.

The smoke swirled in my lungs before being expelled from my nostrils in a perfect, large arc.

"You've been holding it in for so long, just say what you have to say."

Lynn sat up straight, scrutinizing the other person with sharp eyes.

"N-nothing...nothing." Kane shook his head subconsciously, but the fingers holding the cigarette tightened slightly.

"Really not going to tell?"

Lynn deliberately frowned, her tone slightly cold to show a hint of impatience: "I don't like effeminate men who dawdle around."

"clear!"

Kane immediately stubbed out his cigarette, composed himself slightly, and turned around with an extremely serious and earnest expression:

"Boss, I want to know... what exactly do you need me to do?"

Lynn healed his leg for free, which was equivalent to giving him a second life, and he had long been determined to repay her kindness.

But last night I lay in bed tossing and turning, thinking about it for most of the night.

In despair, he realized that he seemed unable to do anything except kill people and block bullets!

Mr. Ke Lin is a doctor, a good person at first glance, so why would he need to kill someone himself?

When I think about it, it seems like the only thing I can do is be a bodyguard.

But witnessing everything today, he discovered that the boss's influence in this rotten community was comparable to that of God!

Nobody dares to mess with him!

Even if, hypothetically, some ignorant drug addict caused trouble, Mike, who's like a black bear outside the door, could easily crush their testicles with his bare hands.

Although he was confident that with his special fighting skills, he could dislocate Mike's joints in ten seconds.

But in the current peaceful environment where people are making bread and treating colds, his killing skills are completely useless.

This made him extremely insecure, fearing that he would be kicked out by his boss because he was worthless.

"What do I need you to do?"

Upon hearing this absurd question, Lynn paused for a moment, then exhaled a smoke ring and retorted, "Aren't you doing your job as a bodyguard right now?"

He was quite satisfied with Kane's radar-like professional alertness.

What a joke! In America, where everyone is free every day, who would complain about having too high a security level?

"But... Mike can do this little thing too..." Kane gritted his teeth, wanting to say something more.

"Alright."

Lynn waved his hand, interrupting him abruptly. A cold glint flashed in his eyes: "Don't overthink it. When it comes to drawing blood, I won't hold back!"

Kane, the retired veteran, is currently his sharpest trump card.

Good steel must be used on the blade!

"clear!"

Upon hearing the words "I'll make you bleed," a glint of light suddenly flashed in Kane's eyes.

The anxiety in my heart vanished instantly, and I completely relaxed.

Seeing blood? That's what he's best at.

"By the way, speaking of which, there is indeed a serious matter I need you to handle right now." Lynn flicked his cigarette ash.

"No problem! No matter what, I'll definitely do it!"

Kane didn't even listen to what it was about and agreed without hesitation.

Lynn laughed: "I haven't even said what it is yet, but you've already agreed pretty quickly."

"I will do everything in my power to carry out any order from the BOSS!" Kane's eyes were fervent and extremely determined.

"very good."

Lynn nodded in satisfaction, then pointed to the back seats: "Let's talk in the back."

Kane's eyes narrowed slightly.

With his years of tactical experience, he immediately realized that what was about to be discussed was definitely highly confidential.

He nimbly slipped into the back seat, his eyes instinctively scanning every blind spot outside the car window, his vigilance at its peak.

"Relax, don't act like you're trying to assassinate the president. It's not a big deal."

Lynn smiled and reassured her, then took out her wallet from her jacket pocket and began counting her money.

While rummaging through his wallet, he casually asked, "In Seattle, do you have a Purchase Permit or CCW (Concealed Carry License)?"

"have."

Although he didn't know why Lynn suddenly asked this question, Kane still reported it to his superior truthfully.

He was a regular soldier before he retired, so he naturally had all the necessary legal documents.

"That's good."

Lynn nodded and pulled a stack of Franklin cigarettes, which smelled of ink, from his wallet.

Fifteen hundred-dollar bills, totaling one thousand five hundred dollars, were handed directly from the front row.

"Boss, what's this?"

Kane didn't reach out to take it immediately, but instead looked puzzled.

"You're my number one bodyguard now."

Lynn's lips curled into a meaningful smile: "If something really happens, are you going to bite it with your teeth? Take this money and get a couple of handy handguns."

Hearing the sensitive word "gun".

Kane's hand trembled involuntarily, a sharp glint almost instantly flashed in his eyes, and his brain raced.

Is the boss in deep trouble?! Gang warfare? Double-crossing?

Faced with poverty and the devastation of marriage, he had little recourse.

But if it's a problem that can be solved with bullets at the physical level, then that's definitely his forte!

"Stop guessing, I'm not in any trouble."

Seeing through the other person's thoughts at a glance, Lynn waved his hand: "I'm just taking precautions for safety reasons."

In the magical land of America, guns are truly instruments of equality for all.

You may not need it, but you absolutely cannot live without it.

If Lynn hadn't been dirt broke recently, he would have gone to the gun shop to stock up on guns long ago.

"clear!"

Upon hearing that it was just a standard service weapon, Kane reached out and took the US dollars.

But as soon as he felt the thickness, he frowned and shook his head: "Boss, you gave too much."

"Is it a lot?"

"Hmm." Kane rattled off the market price as if he knew it by heart: "In the current market, a brand new Glock 19 in a gun shop costs about $400 to $500. Two guns plus a few boxes of ammo, a thousand dollars at most."

"Take it."

Lynn waved her hand dismissively: "The rest is your settling-in allowance and advance salary. Buy yourself a couple of decent outfits and treat yourself to something good to nourish your leg."

"This is too much..." Kane's hand trembled slightly as he held the money.

"Shut up, just take it."

Lynn's domineering tone was undeniable: "This is just the beginning. As long as you work hard, you'll have plenty of days to count money until your hands cramp."

Kane took a deep breath, his eyes slightly reddening, and nodded in a low, heavy voice: "I will never let you down!"

"By the way, boss, may I ask a question?"

The next moment, Kane seemed to suddenly remember something and leaned forward, deliberately lowering his voice: "Do you want the 'white goods' with the numbers still on, or the 'black goods' with the numbers removed?"

The air fell silent for two seconds.

Lynn was stunned for a moment, then the corners of his mouth slowly turned up into a cruel smile.

"White goods" refers to legal firearms purchased from legitimate gun shops, which have ballistic records and serial numbers.

So-called "black market goods" are guns sold on the underground black market that have their serial numbers filed off, making them impossible for even the FBI to trace their origin!

"Of course..."

Lynn patted Kane on the shoulder, his voice rising, "The darker the better, of course!"

Upon hearing this, Kane also gave a similar cold smile: "Understood."

"Boss! All the supplies have been distributed!"

Just then, a rough shout came from outside the car window.

Sweating profusely, Mike strode towards them, waving his arms wildly to claim credit.

"I'm gone."

Lynn casually tossed the cigarette butt out the window and straightened his collar:

"Time to get to work."