At that moment, while Winston was playing Scrabble in the Continental Hotel, he looked at his phone and murmured,
"The real show's about to start."
Down at the hotel front desk, Charon saw a crowd of assassins in the lobby hallway all glance at their phones simultaneously.
Across New York, upon receiving the notification, countless killers started heading toward Chinatown.
Even Smith Dole and Fox, who were accompanying John Wick, received the bounty alert on their phones from the Continental.
Smith glanced at it and simply shrugged.
······
Meanwhile, John Wick had just finished stitching up his wound and began searching through the doctor's medicine cabinet for painkillers.
But no matter how much he rummaged, he couldn't find what he needed—too many unlabeled jars and bottles.
Out of respect for Mr. Wick, the doctor finally said,
"Top shelf, on the right."
"Yeah, take four."
"That stuff will help dull the pain and keep you sharp."
Fox looked over at the Chinese doctor, surprised he was still helping John even at this critical time.
John quickly grabbed the meds and swallowed them.
The doctor then walked over to a drawer, opened it, and pulled out a handgun.
"Mr. Wick, they won't believe I stopped the treatment on time."
John looked at him and replied,
"But you did."
The doctor held the gun with a firm grip.
"They'll find out."
John turned to adjust his clothes.
"Find out what?"
Fox said,
"He told you where the painkillers were."
The doctor nodded.
"That's right."
John understood instantly.
The doctor handed him the gun, then sat in a chair and grabbed some gauze, prepping for what was coming.
John took the weapon and stood in front of him.
"Where?"
The doctor lifted his shirt and pointed.
"Here. Below the floating ribs. Just don't hit my—"
Bang!
Before he could finish, John shot him clean through the side.
"Ugh—Agh!"
The doctor cried out in pain, collapsing back into the chair.
John was about to set the gun down when the doctor called out,
"Wait. One shot might not be enough."
He undid the top of his shirt and exposed his shoulder.
"Just don't hit my—"
Bang!
"Ugh—AAHH!"
The doctor moaned again, clutching his second wound.
John grabbed his coat, turned to leave.
As he walked out, the doctor called after him,
"Good luck, Mr. Wick."
John paused, looked back at the bleeding doctor and said,
"Thank you, Doctor."
With that, he left.
Fox turned to Smith Dole.
"You think he'll make it?"
Smith, watching John's fading silhouette, answered,
"Without stitching the wound, he had no chance. But now… there's a lot more hope."
······
John Wick emerged onto the rain-soaked streets. Despite the weather, the sidewalks were packed. He broke into a run immediately.
At a nearby fish stall, a man was cleaning fish. A younger man stepped out and saw John.
"Boss, it's him."
The fishmonger removed his apron, tossed away his hat, and grinned.
"Let's go make some money."
But others had also spotted John and quickly gave chase.
John ducked into a building and sprinted up the stairwell, locking the door behind him.
Inside the building was a gun shop. John ran up to the display counter, tried to open the glass case, and finding it locked, smashed it and pulled out a revolver. He started loading bullets immediately.
Just then, the fishmonger and his men arrived.
BANG!
The first lackey through the door took a bullet to the head and dropped dead instantly.
John immediately changed position, hiding nearby as the rest stormed in.
He fired again—missed—but managed to knock a weapon from one attacker's hand at close range.
They charged in, and a brutal close-quarters fight began. Two against one, but John held his own. Both sides spotted a case full of knives, smashed it, and grabbed blades.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
"Ugh! Agh!"
Armed with short knives, casualties came quickly. But more killers poured in. John killed one—two more arrived.
He began using the knives like shuriken, nailing targets with pinpoint precision.
Shhk! Shhk! Shhk!
The battle was fast, intense, and bloody. John ultimately killed nine attackers in total, clearing the room.
He exited the building, only to be marked by new assassins instantly.
Meanwhile, Smith and Fox entered the bloody scene he'd just left.
Smith looked at Fox, who was holding the scouter, and asked,
"You saw all their power levels. Thoughts?"
Fox scanned the room, corpses scattered everywhere.
"Combat strength doesn't tell the whole story."
"There were enemies with equal or even slightly weaker ratings than Wick. But after all those group assaults, he's still standing."
Smith nodded.
"In a real fight, stats aren't everything."
"Timing, resolve, decisiveness—they all matter."
"One misstep can change the outcome."
"But once your power level is high enough, it becomes pure domination."
Fox glanced at Smith and asked,
"How high would it have to be… to completely ignore small-caliber firearms?"
Smith considered it.
"At 9, you can start to ignore small-caliber bullets."
Fox looked down at her own rating of 6. That number wasn't far off… but the difficulty of increasing it was immense.
Boosting your bodily energy by 50%? No easy task.
"Let's keep watching what John Wick does next."
······
(End of Chapter)
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