22 Chapter 22: John Wick (Edited)

Two stylishly dressed, attractive girls suddenly passed by his car.

"Qianqian! It's so lively here! I told you, it's nice to travel abroad once in a while. Staying at home all the time, I was worried you'd get depressed…"

"Um."

"..."

The two beauties conversed in Mandarin, causing York to pause and then chuckle as he watched the obviously Chinese pair walk by.

He couldn't return anymore. Upon arriving in this parallel world, he had tried dialing his old number and his parents' mobile numbers, but all were disconnected, indicating no trace of his former world existed here.

With that thought, York shook his head and got out of the car.

The sound of the car door closing inadvertently made the two girls look over.

Seeing this, York gave them a gentle smile and headed towards the building in front of him.

This left Chang Manman and Su Qian, who were visiting New York for the first time, utterly confused.

"Uh, Qianqian, that foreigner is so handsome. I feel like he was smiling at you. Do you think that foreigner has a bit of interest in you?"

"Don't talk nonsense! That was just a polite smile."

"Oh my, my Qianqian is blushing! Your face is all red!"

"Chang Manman!!! I'm going to tear your mouth apart!!"

"Hehe!!! Come at me!!"

"..."

Their laughter faded into the distance as York had already entered the building.

To the outside world, this building seemed like a clothing store that also tailored clothes. If someone actually came in to buy clothes, they indeed sold clothes. But York knew there was more behind this facade of selling apparel.

Because his guns and bullets were all custom-made here, even his bulletproof and slash-proof priest robe was tailored here.

Walking in, York ignored the greetings from the staff and headed straight for the bar at the back.

Behind the bar stood a man in a black suit, his features calm and lean.

Walter Martin, the owner of the building, was also a master gunsmith and an expert in bulletproof vests, making him an old acquaintance of York.

"Respected priest, what can I assist you with today?" Walter Martin's voice was steady yet hoarse.

York calmly placed the bag on the bar and unzipped it.

"Walter, help me deal with these things."

Walter Martin glanced inside the backpack, spotting the array of gold jewelry and valuable watches, then slightly tilted his head.

"Father, have you been on a killing spree?"

York's mouth twitched, "You're calling me a priest, what do you think?"

Hearing this, Walter Martin smiled and didn't ask further, taking the backpack from the bar.

"Father, please follow me."

Saying so, Walter Martin took the backpack and headed towards a door inside.

York nodded and followed.

When the door opened, and they walked through a corridor, a large space appeared before York.

Rows upon rows of brand-new firearms, bulletproof suits in various colors, and special ammunition filled the room.

The shelves were all against the walls, with a set of sofas, chairs, and a bar in the middle, giving off a technological vibe.

Every time York visited, he compared his own basement arsenal to this place, inevitably feeling uncomfortable.

Compared to this, his basement arsenal was junk!

"Father, please have a seat!"

Walter Martin, seeing York looking around, smiled. "I'll be back with an inventory list for you."

York waved his hand, not sitting on the sofa but walking towards the firearms, picking up a submachine gun.

Under the white walls and lighting, these firearms were like poison to a man's desire to purchase.

Walter Martin nodded, allowing York to handle his firearms before leaving.

"CZ Scorpion EVO 3 submachine gun, third generation, magazine capacity 30 rounds, effective range 250 meters..."

"M4 Super 90 shotgun, 12-gauge, capacity 7 rounds, rate of fire: 3.62 rounds per second..."

York, familiar with the mechanics, clicked and clacked a few times, returning it to its place, unable to resist picking up another gun.

"TTI Sig Sauer_MPX carbine, equipped with a Trijicon Mro scope and TLR-8 laser indicator, extended base increases magazine capacity to 41 rounds..."

"If sanctified and enchanted, these 41 rounds could instantly shred the demon Basheeba."

Considering Basheeba as a new measurement unit, York indeed considered purchasing, but remembering his home's basement arsenal, he reluctantly put the carbine back.

No use for them yet, his basement arsenal was already too full. These firearms were intended for exorcism, but traditional methods were enough for him.

"No battlefield..."

York felt a pang of regret. Since arriving in this parallel world, he had always dreamed of one day wielding a flamethrower in one hand and a rocket launcher in the other to powerfully exorcise demons or whatever else stood before him.

Unfortunately, that day hadn't come yet.

However, York always felt that day would come, and all his efforts and practice wouldn't go to waste.

With this thought, York picked up a few more guns to examine. At that moment, Walter Martin finished inventorying the backpack's contents and came out with a list.

"Father, the inventory is complete. Here's the list of items."

York glanced at him, placing the Remington Model 12 double-barreled shotgun back in its place, and took the list from Walter Martin's hand.

The list itemized the goods along with their prices.

There were hundreds of items listed. Just a glance made York's eyes blur, so he directly looked at the total on the last page.

"After deducting a 10% handling fee, you will receive 1.73 million US dollars, Father. How does that sound to you?"

"Fine." York folded the list and put it in his pocket.

"Transfer it to my account."

Walter Martin smiled and bowed respectfully.

"Of course, Father."

York turned to leave but hadn't gone far when he heard Walter Martin's voice behind him.

"Father, have you heard about Mr. John coming out of retirement?"

"John?" York paused, turning back to look at the quietly standing Walter Martin.

Walter Martin nodded, revealing a name.

"John Wick! The Bear Gang is looking for him."

York's eyebrows raised slightly, thinking of the man who often came to his church for prayers and confession.

And before that, the man had brought his wife, ending up alone with just a dog.

"I don't know." York responded indifferently, turning back to continue walking.

"What does that have to do with me? I'm just a priest."

Walter Martin watched York's receding figure, offering his reminder.

"Father, it's said that you helped Mr. John overcome his wife's death. I hope you can be prepared."

A calm voice echoed, resonant and clear.

"Let them come."