Revenge.
That single word seemed to burn inside John Wick's cold, silent eyes.
The audience in the theater felt it immediately.
After watching the car thieves break into his home, beat him down, steal his car, and kill the puppy left behind by his wife, almost everyone in the hall had already begun to hate those gangsters from the bottom of their hearts.
How could someone be that stupid?
How could someone have so little sense of danger?
Was John Wick really someone they could erase so casually?
Was it really just about stealing a car?
Was it really just about killing a dog?
Was it really only because John Wick had spoken a few words to them?
No.
The anger in the audience's chest kept rising, but the film did not let it explode yet.
It pressed that anger down, layer by layer, forcing everyone to wait for the moment when it would finally break free.
Those who had watched the trailer already knew what was coming next.
John Wick's revenge.
But many viewers had not seen the trailer.
From the story so far, John Wick had only looked like an ordinary man. He had been caught off guard, knocked to the ground, and beaten by a group of gangsters.
Now those same people had returned to their territory, surrounded by men, money, weapons, and power.
How could John Wick possibly deal with all of them alone?
On the other side, the gangster who stole the car had already driven it to a garage.
He wanted the original vehicle information erased, then planned to put the car under his own name. Judging by his relaxed expression, this was not his first time doing something like this.
He looked like a real-life GTA player who had already grown used to turning crime into routine.
But the moment the garage owner saw the car, his expression changed.
A Ford Mustang Boss 429.
A familiar car.
Far too familiar.
The garage owner stared at him and asked in a low voice, "You… where the hell did you get this car?"
The scene changed.
John Wick's other car had also been damaged. There was still blood on his face when he took a bus to the garage.
Inside, the garage owner was holding a glass of wine, as if he had been waiting for him for a long time.
The two men clearly knew each other. They did not exchange many greetings.
The garage owner simply poured John a glass of wine.
"Is it here?" John asked.
"It was," the garage owner replied. "Iosef did it."
John's eyes moved slightly.
"Viggo's son."
With just a few short words, the audience finally understood something.
John Wick knew the gang.
And the gangster who killed the puppy was not an ordinary thug.
He was the son of the gang leader.
Soon after, the garage owner made a phone call.
"Sir, your son stole John Wick's car and killed his dog."
On the other end of the line, Viggo's heart sank.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then he let out a quiet, heavy sound.
"Oh."
That reaction alone made the audience even more curious.
It seemed that everyone except those foolish young gangsters knew exactly what John Wick was capable of.
Could it be that this man, who had looked so helpless after being attacked by surprise, was actually someone terrifying?
The film did not reveal everything at once.
Instead, it used the reactions of side characters to peel away John Wick's mystery bit by bit.
Twenty-one minutes had already passed since the movie began, and apart from the sudden attack in his home, there had not been a real action scene yet.
If this were any other popcorn action movie, there would probably have been an explosion in the opening minutes.
A plane would blow up.
A building would collapse.
At the very least, a car would flip through the air.
But John Wick had none of that.
The main character was beaten down like a normal person.
The early violence had no exaggerated design. It looked rough, sudden, and ugly, like a chaotic street fight.
Was this really the R-rated action film of the year that had been promoted so fiercely?
Some doubts remained in the audience's minds.
However, no one felt bored.
Because Xu Can's acting was too sharp, and the camera language was too controlled.
The emotions built at the beginning had already taken hold of the viewers. The grief, the silence, the anger with nowhere to go, all of it kept tightening around their hearts.
Everyone was waiting.
Waiting for the pressure to reach its limit.
Waiting for the breaking point.
"Viggo, they agreed to your terms. Congratulations… Mr. Viggo."
One of Viggo's men reported the good news, but Viggo did not react.
At that moment, his son walked in with a careless smile, completely unaware of what was about to happen.
Wasn't it just robbing a car?
Wasn't it just killing a dog?
He had done things like that many times before.
But the moment they met, Viggo punched him hard.
Iosef froze.
Viggo looked at him coldly.
"You did something stupid."
Iosef was still unconvinced.
"Isn't it just a car?"
"The car is not important," Viggo said. "What matters is the owner of the car."
"Who?" Iosef asked. "Some nobody."
Viggo's expression darkened.
"That nobody is John Wick."
Even when he said that name, the gangster boss could not hide the tremor in his hands and eyes.
"He once worked with us. People called him Baba Yaga."
"The demon?" Iosef asked.
Viggo stared at him.
"No. He is the one I send to kill the demon."
The theater grew quieter.
Viggo continued, his voice low and grave.
"He is a pure killing machine. I once saw him kill three men in a bar with a pencil."
He paused.
"A pencil."
Iosef's expression finally began to change.
Viggo's voice remained calm, but every word landed like a hammer.
"Then one day, he wanted out. He wanted to leave everything behind because of a woman."
"Before he quit, I gave him an impossible task."
"The bodies he buried that day laid the foundation for the underworld empire we have now."
Viggo looked at his son with cold disappointment.
"So, my boy, right after his wife died, you took his car and killed the dog she left him."
His tone was gentle.
Almost too gentle.
But every sentence struck Iosef's heart harder than a shout.
Only now did the young gangster understand what kind of ruthless existence he had provoked.
Regret finally appeared in his eyes.
He wanted protection.
He wanted someone to solve the problem.
But Viggo gave him only despair.
"John Wick will come for you," Viggo said. "And there is nothing you can do."
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The background music slowly changed.
The calm rhythm faded, replaced by a heavier, more passionate beat.
John Wick returned to the basement of his home. He raised a sledgehammer and smashed open the sealed floor.
Inside the hidden compartment was a box that had been buried for a long time.
When the box opened, it revealed firearms, ammunition, and tools arranged with cold precision.
Neat.
Professional.
This was John Wick's past.
This was Baba Yaga.
The man who had been sleeping for years had finally awakened.
A low hiss spread through the theater.
The audience felt as if their own hearts were beating along with the hammer strikes.
Everyone began to look forward to what John Wick would do next.
Then Viggo called him.
"John. I'm sorry to hear about your wife. Maybe fate has placed us in this unfortunate situation."
In his desperation, the underworld boss tried to ask for forgiveness. He wanted to resolve the conflict before it became impossible to stop.
But John Wick remained silent.
That silence was colder than any threat.
Viggo continued carefully.
"We should handle this in a civilized way…"
Click.
John hung up.
The meaning was clear.
There was only one ending now.
A fight to the death.
Viggo's face hardened.
"Get your men ready."
Someone asked, "How many do we need?"
Viggo answered without hesitation.
"How many do you have?"
In front of the mirror, John Wick put on his dark suit and slowly adjusted his clothes.
Although there was still a beard on his face, the aura around him had completely changed.
The grief-stricken man was gone.
What appeared now was a killer wrapped in silence and death.
Only then did the audience truly believe it.
He really was a killer.
Many female viewers stared at the screen, their eyes shining.
"So handsome."
"This look is insane."
"Spider-Man was bright and youthful, but John Wick is completely different."
"I can't believe the same actor can feel like two different people."
Peter Parker, played by Xu Can, had been energetic, clever, and full of youth.
But John Wick, also played by Xu Can, was cold, restrained, and ruthless, like a man who had walked through countless storms and buried his emotions beneath layers of blood and silence.
The same actor.
Two completely different charms.
Film professionals in the theater could see it even more clearly.
Xu Can's acting path was far broader than they had imagined.
Even ten years later, when he reached his thirties, he would still be able to support one masterpiece after another.
How long had Hollywood gone without seeing a figure like this?
And he was still a Chinese actor.
As the sharp post-rock drumbeat grew louder, the gangsters surrounded John Wick's house.
They approached carefully with guns drawn, ready to end him before he came for them.
Each of them looked experienced.
Each of them carried the confidence of someone used to violence.
But could ten men really deal with one John Wick?
The answer came quickly.
They could not.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
In the darkness, Baba Yaga appeared.
John moved with frightening calm. Every shot had a purpose. Every step was clean. Every reload was controlled.
There was no waste.
No panic.
No wild spraying of bullets.
The enemies fell one after another, and John never gave them the chance to recover.
The audience was stunned.
They were used to the traditional gunfight movies of the 1990s, where two groups of people fired at each other for a long time while the protagonist survived through exaggerated movements and impossible luck.
But John Wick was different.
The gunfight was smooth.
Realistic.
Sharp.
And merciless.
The most important thing was that the pistol no longer seemed to have infinite bullets.
Every bullet John fired matched the ammunition count of the weapon in his hand.
His shooting stance was professional.
His reloads were professional.
His close-quarters combat was professional.
Anyone who had served in the military or received CQB training could immediately recognize the difference.
This was not empty flashiness.
This felt grounded and reasonable.
Someone in the theater could not help whispering, "Oh my god. It feels like Xu Can himself can actually do this."
Another viewer said excitedly, "When have we ever seen CQB done like this in a movie. This is so hardcore."
Then the cheers began.
"Good. Kill them."
"Kill those bastards."
The depressing foreshadowing was finally over.
What followed was no longer grief.
It was endless revenge.
The revenge of John Wick.
The revenge of Baba Yaga.
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