Chapter 295 Bar Melee (Second)

"it's him!"

"I know this kid, he has two very beautiful girlfriends, hey..."

boom--! Before this burly middle-aged Caucasian man could finish his sentence, his head was smashed into the bar. The solid log plank broke under the tremendous force, and the dark yellow stubble was exposed to the air. In an instant, the man lost consciousness. Salomon grabbed his neck expressionlessly and smashed his head down again. The stubble slashed the man's face to blood, and even the weather-beaten bartender crouched under the bar in fright at the mystic's brutality.

Others in the bar pulled out their pistols and were about to shoot at the mystic, but Mr. Reese who walked into the bar with Salomon fired first. The ex-CIA agent is a sharpshooter who shoots non-lethal positions, and every extremity of the person who tries to draw a gun will be in close contact with a bullet—maybe two, and even top agents will forget in this chaotic scene whether they have shot this person.

Mr. Reese didn't kill, at least not on purpose, he just used the thug's body to block the bullets from other thugs.

The mystic threw away the unknown guy in his hand, knocked over the rushing thug with a punch, then took out the bolt gun, turned around and fired at the wall behind the bartender who took out the shotgun. The expensive bullets with a caliber of 0.5 inches and handcrafted by fallen angel craftsmen were propelled by the rocket and crashed into the concrete wall. Then the high explosive in the bullet exploded within a few milliseconds. The concrete wall behind the bar collapsed in an instant, and the deafening sound even overwhelmed the repeated gunshots in the bar.

The bartender's face was covered in blood and blisters from a rocket-propelled bullet, and thick blood was pouring out of one of his ears, before he was hit squarely by a plank that fell from the ceiling. The dust raised by the collapse of the ceiling and walls made it impossible for everyone to see their fingers clearly.

The screams didn't stop, Salomon closed his eyes when the dust started to rise, and he moved towards his target with his extraordinary hearing. He kept his word and didn't kill these bastards on purpose, but he also didn't promise to let them go to jail intact. Years of martial arts training had given him the quickest way to find the vitals, and this was the thirteenth joint he had snapped and shattered, as had the clumsy magazines of the prototype boltgun.

There's no one who won't be able to stay sane after being hit on the head by something like a brick.

"Hey, that's enough." Mr. Reaser found Salomon in the crowd after the dust cleared. He was picking out his favorite joint among a group of mobs who fell down and howled. He grabbed the mystic by the shoulder, "Except for the first one, the others have been taught a lesson. That person needs an ambulance. I think his cervical spine is broken. In his next life, he can only lie in bed and drink juice."

Salomon broke free from Mr. Reese's palm. The arm he used to shoot the gun was still aching. If it wasn't for the fact that Rodin's charge was low and he opened three more stigmata, his arm would probably be broken by the gun.

"I only promise you not to kill people, Mr. Reese, this will not prevent me from putting them in wheelchairs for the rest of their lives to ensure that everyone is safe and my life will not be disturbed." He held a gun and walked towards the next howling mob with his head down, without any intention of cleaning the dust on his clothes. He crushed someone's knee with the joy of a child stepping on colorful bubbles in a puddle.

Fourteenth.

"Remember the agreement. Next I need to meet with your partner to make sure he signs the contract."

"I promise. Your goal has been achieved, let's go, the police are coming soon."

The short-haired man with glasses sitting on the other side of the bench stiffened his neck. He was Mr. Reese's companion, Mr. Harold. The mystic doesn't know where this is. Mr. Reese brought him here, and he is not that familiar with the city. All he knew was that he was still in New York, where he could still see the Statue of Liberty.

The evening wind by the river was a bit chilly, and Mr. Harold put on a thick windbreaker. It's a bit of a misnomer to say "wear", because he's already shrunk into the windbreaker.

"Mr Damonette..."

"You can call me by my first name."

"Okay, Salomon. Since you are still hurrying to review the ALevel course, then I will make a long story short. I thought it was a confidentiality contract, but in fact I have never signed a magic contract in my life. Except for some books, I have not even touched parchment. You should know that John and I signed with real names, right? You don't seem to mind at all? According to legend, magic contracts require real names..."

"This is the real name. The real name is the name that gives a person's true nature, not the one given after birth. Since you choose this name, then this name represents you." The mystic checked the two signatures on the parchment without looking up at him.

"Okay, but that's not what I want to talk about," Mr. Harold turned slightly, and looked at Mr. Reaser who was standing guard outside. "Before that, I didn't believe in the existence of magic until... you know, aliens, portals, and the whole world went crazy. This matter is not over yet, Salomon, the gang of thugs you and John attacked are just young people, and a new force is rising in New York City..."

"If it wasn't for your warning, the thugs would have broken into my apartment..."

"And then they die. I've seen your methods. You're trained professionally. It's hard to imagine you're a wizard."

"Yeah, I think so too."

"The point is, they're not going to give up on that market, and there's a good chance you'll get hit again."

"It's up to you to save their lives, Mr. Harold." Salomon shrugged and stood up from the bench, screwing the prototype bolt gun in his hand. When he took up his weapon, Mr. Reaser's piercing gaze shifted back across the river, as if he had eyes behind his back too.

"I have learned a lesson. Even if I go out to buy some seasoning, I will activate all the defense measures." The mystic said, "Those people will not have such good luck next time. Also, let me give you a reminder, my girlfriend can fight better than me, and I am the weakest one in the family."

"Amazing news. Anyway, I'm glad you kept your word, Mr. Damonette." Finch stood up, and Salomon noticed that one of his legs was a little awkward. "I hope that if you encounter such a situation next time, you can notify us to deal with it."

"If I have time, or if they only have a donkey's jaw bone to seek revenge. By the way," the mystic said, "I don't know where you got the news that someone is in danger... But if you encounter supernatural threats, such as magic, aliens, things that Mr. Reese can't solve, remember to call me. This is my duty."

"We probably don't have that kind of thing. But it was a pleasure talking to you, Salomon."

"Me too, bye."

When Salomon disappeared in a flash of light, Harold raised his eyebrows at Mr. Reese standing beside him. "It's a wonderful experience, isn't it?" he said with a smile. "Oh, magic! I'm going to look in the bookcase for stories about magic."

"Don't forget that we have already signed the contract." Mr. Reaser said softly, "I didn't understand what was written in the contract at all."

"That's Latin, which means 'If the contract is violated, the soul will be dedicated to the Trinity God'. I have read the terms, don't worry, we can discuss with each other."

"It's a pity, Zoe definitely doesn't know about wizards, and she also said that she knows everything about this city."

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