Chapter 2 The World's Most Famous Assassin

  The world's most famous killer is called Ren Yong.

  His fame wasn't due to his never having lost a hand, but because he had never succeeded. He had planned ninety-nine assassinations that all ended in failure.

  He claims to be a self-made gun and bomb expert. However, every time he takes his homemade handgun and bombs on a mission, either the gun doesn't fire or the target's bodyguard chases him down, and when using bombs, they either don't explode or detonate prematurely, injuring himself. He returns each time covered in scars. This has become a joke in the dark underworld. Yet, his determination to become the world's greatest hitman is admirable.

  A taxi slowly stopped in front of the Hilton Hotel in New York City. The doorman respectfully opened the door and a Chinese man in his 30s got out, with messy hair and big glasses, wearing a cheap suit that was all wrinkled, but his leather shoes were covered in dust.

  He is Ren Yong, the world's most notorious hitman.

  He stood firmly on the ground, looked around, then lifted his head, puffed out his chest and walked into the world-renowned Silton Grand Hotel with big strides.

  "I'm staying at the hotel, miss."

  "Excuse me! Do you have a reservation?" The pure and standard Chinese flowed out of the mouth of this beautiful and sexy front desk service staff.

  "Yes, room 1211." He said, taking out his ID from his bag and handing it over to the service staff.

  Quickly finished the check-in, under the guidance of the service staff, took the elevator to the 11th room on the 12th floor. "Sir, I hope you have a pleasant stay." The service staff said and then exited the room.

  His target this time is a third-rate American actress who broke up with her boyfriend after meeting a rich man. As a result, her ex-boyfriend angrily hired an assassin to assassinate her. Due to the low commission, no one took on the task, but he was lucky enough to get it.

  "I hope this time will be successful." After finishing, he stood up firmly, opened the door and looked around to make sure no one was there. Then he walked out of the room and came to the opposite room 1212, which is the target room for this stay.

  He pulled out two iron wires, one thick and one thin, from his pocket and inserted them into the keyhole. 1...2...3 With a click, the lock opened, and he quickly pushed open the door, walked in, closed it behind him, leaned against it, and let out a gentle sigh.

  Walked to the bedside, knelt down on the ground and lifted up the bed skirt to take a look underneath, chuckled. Sat on the ground, took out a round thing with two copper wires from his pocket, also removed an electronic meter from his hand, opened the cover and connected the two copper wires to the meter, gently placed it under the bed, stood up to check if there were any loopholes, quickly walked out of the room and closed the door.

  Before the joyful smile on his face had faded, a loud explosion was heard, and the bomb blasted the door to smithereens. The blast wave sent him flying more than three meters away, his cheap suit shredded into strips, and his hair singed by the flames of the explosion.

  Just a few minutes after the explosion, a chaotic footsteps came from the end of the corridor. The police sirens were getting closer and closer, with intermittent screeching sounds. Other residents on the 12th floor also walked out of their rooms to see what had happened, and the corridor was in chaos.

  "Move aside, I'm hotel security."

  Several security guards squeezed in to take a look at the person who had fallen, and the leader squatted down to check his breath, saying: "Nothing's wrong, he's still alive. Quickly call an ambulance." One of the security guards took out his mobile phone and dialed the emergency number.

  At this time, another footstep came from the corridor. "I am a police officer." A middle-aged policeman in his 40s took out his ID card and asked, "What's going on?" "Don't know why there was an explosion," a security guard replied.

  "The doctor has arrived," a voice came over.

  "Everyone make way, we're doctors."

  The crowd parted to let a few doctors through. The lead doctor instructed the nurse to put the injured person on a stretcher and they jogged to the elevator, pressed the button, and soon arrived at the first floor lobby, walked out of the door, and outside the cold wind blew, the injured person came to, staring straight at the Silton Hotel that made him fail his mission for the 100th time, with hypocritical tears streaming down his eyes.