"You're the commander of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Special Operations team—the invincible super-soldier! Even Hydra couldn't stand against you. A few mafia families? That's nothing!"
Howard's voice was full of flattery, but his true intention followed right behind.
"I'm a scientist, you know. I'll just stick to the rear and, uh… provide some technical support."
Chen Mo nodded slightly, adding silently in his mind—a cowardly warmonger.
Without another word, he looked over at Wang Kun, who was still holding his wife and son.
"Wang Kun, take them back to the martial hall. From now on, they'll live there."
"Thank you, Master!" Wang Kun's face lit up. After this ordeal, he'd been terrified for his family. Now, that fear finally eased.
"I should've arranged it earlier," Chen Mo said. "If I had, this wouldn't have happened."
"Master, don't blame yourself. You've already done more for us than anyone could!"
Chen Mo waved his hand. "Enough. Go. We've got business tonight."
"Where are you going, Master?"
"To Green Street," Chen Mo said flatly.
That was Lucian territory—one of Brooklyn's two major mafia families.
"Tonight, we end every last threat."
Wang Kun hesitated, glancing at his wife and child, then turned back with eyes full of resolve.
"Master, I'm coming too."
Chen Mo nodded. "Fine. Drop them off first. We'll meet at the corner of Green Street."
He patted Wang Kun's shoulder. "Don't worry. The martial hall is secure. No one will touch them."
He wasn't lying. Elite Hydra agents were already stationed secretly around the area. No street gang would ever breach that perimeter.
Half an hour later, they regrouped.
No more hostages. No more hesitation. The mission tonight was simple—eradication.
Once everyone was ready, Chen Mo gave a single nod and strode straight toward the Lucian family's mansion.
The others followed, weapons drawn, eyes cold with fury.
The estate loomed ahead, surrounded by a tall iron fence. Two guards under the gate lights spotted them and opened their mouths to shout.
They never got the chance.
Chen Mo's pistols flashed twice. Two sharp reports cracked the air, and both guards dropped instantly, neat holes through their skulls.
He holstered the pistols, stepped up to the iron gate, and drew back his leg.
BANG!
The heavy steel gates flew off their hinges, crashing into the courtyard with a deafening clang.
Chen Mo stepped through the wreckage, face like stone. The men behind him followed quickly, stunned by the sheer power of that kick.
Inside, more guards rushed out, startled by the noise. Their eyes widened at the sight of the shattered gate—then froze as they found a line of black-suited figures aiming straight at them.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire burst through the night, echoing in the courtyard. Within seconds, the guards lay motionless on the grass.
Chen Mo swept his gaze across the empty yard and moved through the mansion doors.
Inside was a palace of wealth—huge oil paintings, golden chandeliers, marble floors, and twin staircases curling elegantly down from the second floor. The lights glittered across polished stone, turning the hall into a stage of white fire.
A few mafiosos had just come down to check the noise. They froze for a heartbeat, then reached for their guns—too late.
Chen Mo and his team fired first.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets tore through the air. The men collapsed before they could even aim, blood pooling across the marble.
Within seconds, the grand hall was silent.
Chen Mo gestured for his team to take cover behind pillars and furniture. From upstairs came the pounding of boots—reinforcements.
According to intel, there were over fifty men in the Lucian headquarters. Mostly pistols, some shotguns, a few Tommy guns. Nothing that could threaten Chen Mo.
Howard stayed glued behind him, of course. Chen Mo didn't even bother to comment.
Moments later, a crowd of armed men poured down the stairs.
"Fire!" Chen Mo ordered.
Gunfire thundered again.
The first wave of mafiosos was shredded mid-step, bullets piercing skulls and torsos. Bodies tumbled down the grand staircase, leaving trails of blood that glistened under the chandelier.
The mansion had become a warzone.