8

Chapter 8: Destiny to Kill Me

After an hour, Locke smiled and waved goodbye to the police officer who had escorted him to his door.

The officer left his phone number in case Locke felt unwell.

Once the police officer entered the elevator and left, Locke closed the door and his expression darkened.

Removing his shirt, Locke walked into the bathroom, twisted his body, and carefully unwrapped the bandages he had just applied.

To his eyes, the dozen or so fragments embedded in his body had disappeared without a trace.

Level 3 tenacity—truly terrifying!

"Gudong!"

Locke walked out of the bathroom, took a bottle of bourbon from the bar, poured a glass, and drank it straight.

An ordinary sixteen-year-old couldn't buy alcohol.

But Locke was no ordinary man.

In the next second, Locke looked up at the study on the second floor.

Inside the study was a computer dedicated to the Continental Hotel. Locke, shirtless, sat down and opened a chat software on the computer.

**Wushuang:** "In?"

**I'm not the Red Devil:** "Speak!"

**Wushuang:** "There was a corpse in Manhattan tonight. I want to know everything about him."

**I'm not the Red Devil:** "Wait a minute."

Locke leaned back in his chair, watching the screen.

The NYPD had its methods of investigation.

So did the dark world!

Often, the information from the dark world came much faster than from the official agencies.

If Locke could speculate in stocks, he could exploit the fast transmission of information in the dark world to make a fortune in the stock market.

Of course, the information from the dark world was both true and false.

However, Locke's source of intelligence was reliable.

When Locke was in Texas, he had several transactions with this intelligence dealer, making them pleasant business partners. Locke also took private orders from this guy multiple times.

Locke accepted any order as long as the system could generate missions from it.

As for who this guy was?

Locke suspected that this guy was the Red Devil, the legendary gatekeeper of the dark world.

Of course, it wasn't the Red Devil himself talking to him.

It was probably a salesperson under the Red Devil.

The name "Red Devil" carried more weight than Locke's, and people sought out the Red Devil for business almost every second.

Locke was just one of them.

After a while, a reply came.

**I'm not the Red Devil:** "One hundred thousand!"

**Wushuang:** "Are you kidding me? Who is it? Why is the information so expensive?"

**Wushuang:** "I know your boss. Give me a discount; we've been working together for years."

**I'm not the Red Devil:** "Wait a minute."

**Wushuang:** "Okay."

Locke stroked his chin, now starting to grow a beard again, as he watched the message on the screen.

Was an identity worth 100,000?

Did they think money grew on trees?

Although being a killer made quick money, Locke had spent a lot in the past two days.

If Locke didn't take orders from now on, by this time next year, he'd be unable to pay his property taxes and would watch the IRS come to his door with a tank.

**I'm not the Red Devil:** "I asked the boss. The boss said you are our friend, so this information is free for you."

There was no such thing as a free lunch.

**Wushuang:** "What's the catch?"

**I'm not the Red Devil:** "Next time there's an order, help us complete it for free. Equivalent exchange. If it exceeds this information, we'll make up the difference."

**Wushuang:** "No problem!"

Locke typed his response.

There was no love or hate without reason in this world.

He didn't want charity. After all, free things often came with high costs.

Fair enough.

Equivalent exchange.

That was his principle. It didn't matter who he killed, as long as the system generated missions. The system deemed them bad guys, so killing them brought no psychological burden.

Someone needed to uphold justice in this world.

So...

Why couldn't that someone be him?

Soon, a notification popped up.

Ding dong.

Locke opened his dark world mailbox and clicked the new message.

His eyebrows raised!

WTF?

**Gallagher Abel, male, thirty-five years old, alias Mr. Y, Dark World, New York Brotherhood Assassin!**

What's going on?

Mr. Y?

Brotherhood?

Assassin?

A peer?

What were they doing?

**Ding!**

**Mission Completed: Injustice and Debt**

**Quest Reward: Achievement Points*1000, Potential Points*1000, Treasure Refresh Coupon*1**

**Ding!**

**New mission generated: My Destiny is Up to Me!**

**Task Reward: Achievement Points*2000, Potential Points*2000, Treasure Refresh Ticket*1**

**Task Description: In this world, there exists a magical textile machine. Legend has it that this machine conveys the will of God. A group of people practice their belief of saving ten, a hundred, or even a thousand by killing one. They will eliminate any name that appears on the loom. What if your name appears?**

**Remarks: You are a player. If this world has destiny, then destiny has no right to judge you!**

"W...T...F?"

Locke frowned.

A textile machine?

Brotherhood?

Wanted?

Just kidding, how could his name appear on the loom of fate?

Locke raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

Wasn't the fate loom a fake?

Locke had seen the movie *Wanted*. He knew there was a Brotherhood and planned to visit them after settling in New York.

After all...

"Spear throwing" was a unique skill.

The Brotherhood's signature skill!

But...

He hadn't even gone to the textile mill yet, and now he was told his name had been tinkered with by the fate loom?

Did he offend someone?

Locke blinked, pondering this question.

Wrong.

The fate loom was real at the beginning; it wasn't faked by Sloan. Sloan did his best to practice his so-called justice with the names from the fate loom.

It seemed that after discovering his own name, Sloan's mentality exploded, leading him to start forging names for his own gain.

So...

The fate loom wasn't actually false, but Sloan could make it so?

Meaning?

Destiny to kill me?

Locke raised an eyebrow.