The loud noise from the helicopter still made Jane, who was waiting for her punishment with closed eyes, open them again.
Hunter glanced at her and warned: "Stay here quietly and wait for me to return."
"You can escape, but if I catch you again next time, I'm not sure how I'll treat you."
"Jane Smith!"
The moment her name was spoken by Hunter.
Jane's body suddenly tensed, and her eyes glared at him fiercely.
Obviously, she hadn't expected that in such a short time.
The other party had actually already found out her true identity.
In an instant, killing intent erupted within Jane's heart.
But when she met Hunter's cold gaze.
Jane immediately realized she was no match for him at all.
In an instant, she was like a deflated balloon, closing her eyes again and leaning back against the sofa without moving.
"Forget it, isn't it just being 'dealt with' three more times."
"Just treat it as letting loose at a nightclub or bar; it's not like I haven't gone out to play after getting married anyway."
Thinking this way, Jane barely managed to convince herself.
Seeing that this Killer Wife had finally settled down, Hunter got up and walked out of the wooden cabin.
The helicopter had been landed for a while, but no one had rashly entered.
However, Hunter trusted his intuition; he hadn't felt that hair-raising sensation of being locked on by death.
So, he pushed open the door and walked straight out.
As soon as Hunter stepped out, he saw a fairly spacious open space not far from the wooden cabin.
A helicopter was currently parked there.
It was a small four-seat helicopter; Hunter recognized it at a glance as a Robinson R44 Raven.
In America, a major aerospace power, these small helicopters are very cheap.
They cost about three hundred thousand us dollars or so.
Hunter's gaze didn't linger on the helicopter for long.
Soon, his attention shifted to the middle-aged white man in a black suit standing by the helicopter, who looked to be about forty years old.
"Hello, Mr. Hunter Sun."
While Hunter was sizing up the middle-aged white man, the man also looked at him.
He nodded politely to Hunter, but inadvertently, Hunter still saw a bit of doubt and disdain in his scrutinizing gaze.
To this, Hunter pretended not to see.
As the world's current sole superpower, America is a major country of immigrants.
Naturally, the complexity of immigrant nationalities and races within the country is among the highest in the world.
In America, there is a strictly hierarchical pyramid-shaped chain of contempt.
Jews and Anglo-Saxons are at the top of the chain, with white immigrants from Western European countries in the second tier.
Southern European white immigrants are in the third tier, while immigrants from Australia, Canada, Eastern Europe, and Russia are in the fourth tier.
Latinos, African Americans, and Native Americans are in the fifth tier, and asians are at the very bottom of the chain of contempt.
And if one were to further break down asians, there is yet another strictly hierarchical chain of contempt within America.
Hunter couldn't be bothered to argue with these racists; he had never once considered himself an American.
As for those who dared to target him blatantly, they no longer had the chance to regret it.
Because they had all been quietly dealt with by Hunter.
He kept the lessons from thousands of years of his ancestors' experience etched in his heart.
Hunter always remembered: better to be a schemer than a reckless man.
If someone truly provoked him, he'd find an opportunity to screw them over.
Nodding flatly, Hunter asked brusquely: "Continental Hotel?"
The middle-aged white man in the black suit nodded and then handed a briefcase he was carrying to Hunter.
"Everything you need to know is in here. Please follow the instructions inside for Reading."
"Remember, the briefcase code is 0420."
"Once you open the briefcase, you only have half an hour to read the contents."
"After half an hour, the information will be automatically deleted."
"The subsequent trial for you will begin in seven days."
"Only after passing will you be permitted to enter the Continental Hotel."
He didn't mention what the trial was.
Nor did he mention what would happen if the mission failed; Hunter was clear on this!
Nodding, he reached out and took the briefcase.
The briefcase was a bit heavy; Hunter felt it weighed at least ten kilograms or more.
It seemed there was something significant inside.
Seeing that he had taken the briefcase, the middle-aged white man in the black suit prepared to leave.
"Well then, sir, my mission is complete. Please excuse me."
After speaking, he turned unhesitatingly and walked to the helicopter.
Opening the cabin door, just as he was about to climb in, the middle-aged white man suddenly spoke up: "By the way, sir."
"It seems there are several corpses on your farm that need to be dealt with."
"If necessary, we have professional Cleaners who can resolve all your concerns."
"However, considering you aren't an official member of the Continental Hotel yet, how does ten thousand us dollars per person sound?"
Hunter's mind immediately flashed to the john wick series.
He thought of those highly efficient teams of Cleaners who appeared out of nowhere after every battle, quickly tidied up the battlefield, and then promptly vanished.
He was actually tempted to give it a try.
But Hunter remembered that back at the farmland, since he hadn't known how many companions Jane had...
...he had set up an area full of traps.
He shook his head at the moment. "I'll handle it myself; there are still some traps over there that haven't been disarmed yet."
The middle-aged white man in the black suit was momentarily stunned, then nodded.
Without saying another word, he pulled open the cabin door and climbed inside.
The helicopter was soon started again, its rotors blowing up a large amount of fallen leaves that occasionally brushed against Hunter's face.
He watched quietly as the small helicopter took off and quickly disappeared into the dark night.
Only after the aircraft was completely gone...
...did Hunter hurry toward the farmland, preparing to clear away the remains and the traps.
Once he was a distance away from the wooden cabin, he temporarily stored the coded briefcase into his private space.
Taking about ten minutes, Hunter relied on his extraordinary memory to recover all the bear traps he had set.
The four cold corpses and their weapons...
...were also stored in his private space by Hunter, intending to dig a hole ten meters deep later to bury them all.
By then, even if someone wanted to look for them, it would be impossible to find them.
After finishing all this, Hunter turned back toward the wooden cabin.
He had experienced too much tonight and planned to relax properly...
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