The entertainment room wasn’t large, about sixty to seventy square meters, with two tables, two sets of sofas, and a small liquor cabinet. However, there was nobody inside. Once John Brown entered, he hid behind one of the tables and immediately fired two shots towards the doorway.
A shadow flickered at the door, and the woman in black came rushing in against the door frame. John Brown’s two shots aimed at the center of the doorway completely missed.
This woman was indeed bold, with an accurate sense of judgment, but she was facing James Brown. James was not only skilled in martial arts, but his gunmanship was also top-notch. Although those two shots missed, he quickly raised his hand, aiming the gun at the airborne woman and pulled the trigger repeatedly.
A person in midair ordinarily would not be able to change direction, but as this woman crossed the doorway, her foot tapped the frame and she suddenly flew straight to the side. Her reflexes were beyond words, seemingly beyond human capability.
While in the air, the woman wasn’t just dodging. Both of her hands swung repeatedly, and several throwing knives shimmered with cold light as they flew towards John Brown’s exposed head and arm.
John initially intended to continue shooting along the woman’s trajectory, but as her hand moved up, he realized that if he continued to fire, he’d be hit by her throwing knives first. Thus, he quickly judged the situation, sharply dropping his body to evade the knives, leaving him unable to attack as the woman landed on the ground.
Subsequently, the two engaged in a breathtaking fight within the small entertainment room. Bullets and knives flew, but neither of them could land a hit on the other.
James fired another shot but still missed the woman. The woman, no longer concealing her figure, started walking directly towards James.
"An MP5 submachine gun, with only thirty bullets; you’ve already fired thirty shots. You have no bullets left," she said casually as she approached, with a strong sense of confidence.
James stood up, casually tossed aside the submachine gun, grinned at the woman, and said, "I didn’t expect you to be skilled with knives and know so much about guns, even keeping count of how many times I fired."
The woman snorted coldly, "Now that you’re out of bullets, I still have countless throwing knives. You’re dead."
The smile on James’s face remained bright, "Earlier you said that if I dodged your five throwing knives, I would be your man. I think I just dodged thirty-five of them."
The woman’s expression was hidden behind a mask, but James could sense she was obviously startled. Whether single or burst shots, the sound was loud enough for any expert to count, but throwing knives had no sound. For James to accurately state the number she threw was far more difficult than counting gunshots.
"Do you really want to be my man?" the woman did not strike, but stopped instead.
James chuckled, "Do I have to pay? If so, forget it. I never pay women. It’s not clean."
The woman remained indifferent to James’s words. A skilled hitman, especially one skilled with knives, must remain calm to throw them accurately. With her mastery of the throwing knife, her mind remained unchanged by James’s remarks.
"You can’t provoke me; it’s useless. I respect you as a rare expert, so I’m giving you a chance. If you can escape my four throwing knives, I’ll spare your life."
As she spoke, she slowly raised both hands, pinching a blade-like throwing knife between each finger: forefinger, middle finger, and ring finger.
James smiled faintly, "I don’t need your pity, nor do I need you to spare me. If you want to kill me, it’s not that easy."
"You have some courage. Are you ready?" This woman was supremely confident in her throwing knife mastery, confronting John Brown head-on and even reminding him.
The distance between James and this woman was only slightly over five meters. Her throwing knives were fast, even faster than bullets, requiring immense strength to give the knives such speed. At this short distance, evasion without preemptive judgment was virtually impossible.
James smiled slightly, "Not yet."
The woman stood there with raised hands, motionless, seemingly waiting for James to prepare.
Suddenly, James stretched lazily and yawned, "Miss, it’s pointless to keep fighting. How about we find a room to bond? I think it’d be more fun."
"If you’re not afraid, I have no objection," the woman answered crisply.
James laughed, "Alright then, let’s go."
"Seeking death!" The woman shouted coldly, raising her hands suddenly as two throwing knives darted from her fingers, like streaks of cold light, towards James’s throat and heart.
However, a chair suddenly flew up from behind James, heading straight towards the two throwing knives.
When James stretched earlier, he happened to swing his hand back and grabbed the chair.
The chair was large and made of solid wood. With James’s might, it was a weighty weapon. If it hit the woman, she’d probably be severely injured, if not killed.
The two throwing knives struck the solid wooden chair, but surprisingly, it couldn’t stop them. The knives slashed through it like tofu, their paths unchanged, continuing towards James’s throat and heart.
Nevertheless, the chair slowed the knives just enough for James to react, stretching to dodge them and charging toward the woman.
In combat with a knife-throwing expert, the further away you are, the more passive you become. If you’re familiar with the game "Smart Hero," melee fighters fare better by closing the distance against ranged opponents to engage in close-quarters combat. Otherwise, you’d inevitably lose if you can’t hit your opponent from afar.
At this moment, both the chair and James were racing toward the woman at nearly the same speed. Whether the chair or James, the woman couldn’t ignore either.
This was initially a good strategy, but the woman was so powerful. Her eyes focused on James as she slid to the side, swinging her hands again. The remaining two knives spun towards James.
This time, the knives flew slowly, like butterflies, yet James felt an intense sense of danger. Though he didn’t slow his charge, he marshaled all his mental energy.
As the knives closed in within half a meter of James, they collided. Such an error seemed uncharacteristic of a knife-throwing master, yet it made James tenser.
The initial knives the woman threw, though fast and strong, were predictable. James, being decent with knives himself, could foresee the knife’s path once the woman moved her hand, allowing him to prepare and dodge in advance.
But the knives’ collision altered their course, requiring him to reassess. With the knives so close, it was nearly impossible to evade.
The woman had dodged the chair, and after throwing these knives, she clasped her hands behind her back, certain that nobody could evade her knife tactic once mastered. Even if James had high martial arts skills, he’d have to retreat to have any chance. But as he advanced so close, there was no avoiding her knives.
"Puff! Puff!" Two odd sounds echoed. The woman’s exposed eyes showed extreme shock; her knives were utterly neutralized.
James used a method the woman had never anticipated: he used two shoes as weapons, meeting her knives in the nick of time and diverting them.
In her mind, in close quarters, nobody could evade her knives. If James had a tool, he might have blocked them, provided he predicted their paths accurately. Yet James had nothing of the sort, boosting her confidence.
Who’d have thought James could weaponize his shoes? Such an unexpected twist caught her off guard.
More critical was that James not only deflected her knives but was now within half a meter of her. A reinforced punch, carrying gusting wind, was targeting her chest. Though his fist hadn’t touched her chest, she already felt intense pressure, struggling to breathe. The consequences if the punch landed were unimaginable.