Earth’s Newbie Protection Period

As a killer, there was no doubt that Sandel deserved to be punished by The Continental Hotel.

But as a customer?

If the saying that "the customer is God" was truly upheld throughout an industry, then the killer industry dared claim second place only because no one dared claim first.

Was there any industry that would complete a task for a customer even at the cost of its own life?

No, right?

So, in the killer world, "the customer is God" was not an empty slogan, but an established fact!

That was how Sandel had entered The Continental Hotel—as a customer. Moreover, because of the public bounty on his head, he could remain in The Continental Hotel until the mission was completed.

As for the reason?

Perhaps The Continental Hotel’s management felt this was a way to attract major customers. They used this method to tell them, "Give us your contracts. Before they are completed, The Continental Hotel can guarantee your personal safety for as long as you need." At the same time, it showed that The Continental Hotel would never take both sides of a deal.

At least not during the execution of a mission.

As for after the contract was completed?

Heh.

The transaction was over, so naturally the major customer would be asked to leave. Perhaps the next person to enter The Continental Hotel would be there to place a bounty on that very customer.

The Continental Hotel was open for business. Anyone could be killed; it only depended on whether the price was high enough.

This point…

Made it rather similar to Lake. In this world, no one was indispensable. The earth would keep turning no matter who died.

Inside the bar.

Lake spun the glass in his hand, then said with great interest to Sandel across from him, "Tell me. I’m very interested. Is this your money, or your master’s?"

Sandel’s hands tightened around the armrests. Clearly, the two words Lake had used had touched some sore spot.

However.

Sandel let out a laugh and looked at Lake. "The entire killer world is saying that the killer known as the Black King and the head of that law-enforcement agency, Lake Edwin, have a very close relationship. They even say the destruction of the Textile Factory was related to the appearance of a traitor in the killer world. But no one knows the details. Still, I’m curious too. Is your relationship with Lake Edwin also one between master and slave?"

Lake shrugged. "If I said it was, would you admit that you’re a slave too?"

Admitting that he was his own slave?

What was so difficult about that?

If his clone had been able to transform into a female version of Lake, then he could even have said that the female Lake was the male Lake’s sex slave.

Sandel smiled. "Let me put it this way. Mr. Black King, are you admitting that you have a relationship with Lake Edwin?"

Lake glanced at Sandel and chuckled. "Mr. Sandel, I know exactly what tricks you’re playing. You want me to admit that I’m the traitor in the killer world, don’t you?"

Sandel’s eyes flickered. "Do you dare?"

Lake laughed heartily. "You want me to say it? Fine. Tell me who rescued you from Washington."

A trace of mockery appeared at the corner of Sandel’s mouth.

Lake raised an eyebrow.

The next second.

Lake shook his head. "Forget it. I’ve already wasted enough time talking nonsense with you. I’m tired of it."

With that.

Lake rose to his feet and swept his right hand across. The Glock 17 appeared in his hand.

Bang!

Pfft!

After the gunshot rang out, the entire Continental bar instantly fell into a deathly silence, almost at the very moment the shot was fired.

Even… the air seemed to freeze.

Only "Take Me Home, Country Roads," echoing throughout the bar, continued to flow around them like running water.

The attendant and the numerous killers all turned their gazes toward Lake’s table. Lake was standing, holding the gun in one hand, while Sandel had already widened his eyes and slumped back in his wheelchair, dead with his eyes open.

Even at the moment of his death, Sandel was thinking about one question.

How dare he?

How dare Lake? This was The Continental Hotel. For decades, its management had used frenzied slaughter to tell the entire killer world what a safe zone for killers was.

Was he insane?

That was not merely Sandel’s question. It was also what countless killers in the bar were thinking at that very moment.

Lake chuckled, holstered his gun, sat back down, and took a sip of bourbon.

It was as if time, which had stopped, had begun moving again.

At the bar, an attendant hurriedly pressed the emergency button. One killer after another rose from their seats and, in perfect tacit agreement, silently walked toward the exit.

How dare I?

What the hell was there that I didn’t dare do?

Once the urge to kill had arisen, nothing could stand in its way!

Lake took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He stared expressionlessly at Sandel, whose head had lolled back against his wheelchair, and sneered inwardly.

The only reason The Continental Hotel still existed was that it had not provoked Lake. That was all. There had also been the fact that he previously needed to take contracts from The Continental Hotel to make money.

But now?

Let alone The Continental Hotel—even if Hydra dared provoke him one more time, all that awaited Hydra was death. It would no longer be something money could resolve.

He was no longer short of money. No, more precisely, he no longer needed money. Naturally, even if Hydra gave him all its assets to appease his anger, there was no chance of success.

Simply put.

As far as this world was concerned, Lake’s newbie protection period had completely vanished. If Lake had still been wary because of the cash lottery before, then now he was truly without restraint.

Ten minutes later.

Winston, the head of the New York Continental Hotel, emerged from the elevator with his curly hair and suit, accompanied by his black attendant, Charon.

The few attendants at the bar tactfully turned and left once the hotel’s top boss appeared.

Winston walked behind Lake and looked at Sandel, who had been shot between the brows in his wheelchair. He sighed.

The black attendant Charon walked over, pushed Sandel’s wheelchair aside, and then brought over a chair.

Winston sat down, crossed his legs, and looked at Lake across from him. After a moment of silence, he said, "Black King, do you know what my favorite saying is?"

Lake said, "Rules. Without rules, we’re no different from animals?"

Winston nodded. "Yes."

Lake smiled. "Then do you know my rules?"

"Please, tell me."

"No taboos!"

"…"

Winston turned his head and looked at Sandel’s corpse, which was gradually growing cold. He felt a headache coming on. "You’re making things very difficult for me."

Lake smiled. "You can handle it according to the rules. I don’t mind, Winston!"

His favorable impression of Winston was at least above fifty. After all, when Lake had joined The Continental Hotel and become a freelance killer, Winston had written his letter of recommendation. Lake’s first contract had also come from Winston, allowing him to complete the initiation task required to join The Continental Hotel.

In the past, if Lake had done this before his relationship with Emilia had been exposed, he probably would have received an expulsion order and a kill order within half an hour.

But…

Behind the Black King stood Emilia, the Immortal Queen of the dark world and the sole queen who ruled the Immortal Bloodline in Europe.

"Alas!"

Winston sighed again and looked up at Lake. "The High Table will definitely uphold The Continental Hotel’s rules."

Lake remained unmoved. "Do what you have to do, Winston. I can assure you that I won’t take my anger out on you for doing what you must. You have my permission, Winston!"

After all, they had known each other for a long time. Although their past friendship would never stop Lake from killing someone who schemed against him, that applied only to scheming. If Winston did something within the scope of his authority that he had to do, Lake did not mind.

It was like a person needing to eat. It was necessary. Lake was not going to resent Winston simply because Winston needed to eat.

Winston shook his head. "I might have the authority to issue an expulsion order directly against others, but not you. I’ll report what happened here to the Adjudicator. As for the High Table’s decision, that’s beyond my control. From this moment forward, Black King, you are no longer welcome at The Continental Hotel, and your status as a killer will be frozen."

Lake was no longer the Lake he had once been.

Even The Continental Hotel would not recklessly clash with the Immortal Bloodline—not before weighing the consequences carefully, at the very least.

But Winston had to respond to the incident.

Winston had been the head of the New York Continental Hotel since the eighties. It was no exaggeration to say that every killer making a living in New York, whether affiliated with an organization or independent, respected Winston far more than they did the so-called High Table.

As Winston had once said, it was easy for the High Table to kill him, but finding someone capable of managing nearly one hundred thousand killers in New York as well as he did was impossible.

Therefore, to protect his position and status, Winston had to respond.

Lake pressed his lips together and nodded, indicating that he understood. He then said to Winston, "Before I leave, how about you buy me a drink?"

After tonight, whether The Continental Hotel continued to exist or vanished into the river of time would depend on a single thought from the High Table.

Winston gestured toward the bar. "Of course. I know you’ve had your eye on that bourbon that costs ten gold coins a glass for more than a year or two."

Lake rose and laughed loudly. "Even bourbon that costs one gold coin for two glasses tastes good to me. After all, anything obtained for free tastes better."

Was there anything obtained for free that was bad?

An Immortal Body!

A Force Seed!

Hadn’t Lake obtained both of them for free? And what did that prove? That unlucky players could not beat lucky players, but even lucky players had no chance against freeloaders.

Half an hour later.

After Lake finished the ten-gold-coin bourbon with Winston, the moment he stepped out of The Continental Hotel, the expulsion order against the Black King was issued.

Whoosh!

The attendant who had been holding an umbrella over Lake immediately moved it away from his head like a machine. From the moment the expulsion order was issued, every service of The Continental Hotel was closed to Lake.