Chapter 64
The moment Janson moved, he dashed toward Nash with lightning speed.
A cold flash of murderous intent gleamed in Nash’s eyes. In an instant, he drew a small dagger from his sleeve.
Janson, overwhelmed by rage, appeared right in front of Nash, his movements swift and precise. But before he could react further, the Warden quickly intervened.
“That’s enough, stop it…” the Warden commanded.
In the blink of an eye, the dagger was pressed against Janson’s throat. One slight shift, and it would pierce through, ending his life in an instant.
Cold sweat beaded on Janson’s forehead. A deep, unsettling dampness spread in his pants. The speed at which Nash had moved was unreal—he hadn’t even seen the man move.
The Warden’s voice was firm but measured. “This is just a test. A little injury is fine, but no killing, understood?”
Stellar, standing nearby, whispered to explain the situation. “The Grim Reaper already said that he doesn’t know how to compete for fun. He only knows how to kill…”
The Warden chuckled, clearly unbothered. “Let them go. Just having the Smiling Grim Reaper protect me is enough.”
His tone conveyed relief. He had seen the Smiling Grim Reaper’s skill firsthand and now felt assured that his safety was secured.
Stellar, with a grin on his face, leaned towards Harold and reassured him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Watson. With the Smiling Grim Reaper protecting the Warden, you can take your two martial artists back with you.”
After all, the 140 million dollars he had spent on the bodyguard had not been in vain. What mattered now was that the Smiling Grim Reaper was also a protector for the Warden—a cleric, even, for someone so extraordinary to have cultivated such a disciple on Tili Mountain.
Harold, feeling helpless, looked at George and Janson, who were still standing off to the side. “You two can leave now.”
Though reluctant, neither of them could do anything about it. Their skills simply weren’t enough to compete with the Smiling Grim Reaper’s.
At around eleven o’clock, three Rolls-Royces cruised toward the Lee household.
Nash sat beside the Warden, eyes closed. Stellar sat in the passenger seat, observing Nash through the rearview mirror. Unable to resist, he asked, “Kid, how do you spot a killer like that?”
Nash replied bluntly, “You don’t find the real killer with your eyes.”
Ordinary killers would be spotted easily, but those on the Blood List had mastered top-tier camouflage, making them nearly impossible to detect with the naked eye.
The Warden, listening, chuckled and reassured Stellar, “Don’t worry. You have to trust this hundred-million-dollar killer.”
Stellar, feeling his muscles loosen, leaned back into his seat and sighed in relief.
Feeling a bit bored, the Warden turned his attention to Nash and decided to engage him in conversation. “I heard you trained on Tili Mountain?”
Nash nodded slightly but offered no further response.
The Warden continued, “I also heard the people you’ve killed were all heinous criminals… Who ordered you to do it?”
Nash remained silent, eyes still closed. He did not like to be understood, and he certainly disliked being questioned. While wearing his mask, he was a killer, and a killer’s code was to never reveal anything about his employer.
The Warden, sensing the tension, stopped asking questions.
Stellar, glancing at the Warden through the rearview mirror, couldn’t help but feel puzzled. The Warden, typically a man of few words, seemed unusually chatty today, making repeated attempts to engage Nash in conversation. It was odd—especially given Nash’s professional demeanor as a killer.
The car continued its journey toward Splendiferous Meadows, the grand real estate development site owned by the Lee family.