On the contrary, the threat to him was a kind of beast, one that prowled during the day.

Due to the issue with the aircraft, Feng Yi's daily routine had been disrupted, so he had to think about what to do during the day and wait until night to continue his hunting and ambushes.

On the way home, who knew that a murder would occur nearby? As a woman was seeking help everywhere with her two distraught sons, she suddenly saw Feng Yi and ran up to him almost in a dash, "Sir Feng, my husband has been murdered. Please, stand up for us."

"But this has nothing to do with me."

"You are the most famous freelance mercenary around here. You must help us; this is all my savings." The woman handed a few scattered coins to Feng Yi, "I am certain that bastard Fark killed my husband."

"Who is Fark? And how are you so sure it was him?"

"Fark is a local gangster around here. Because we couldn't pay last month's protection money, he swore that if we don't pay this month's protection money, he would take my husband's life."

"Did you see him kill your husband with your own eyes?"

"No."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you. You had better find some evidence or at least someone to testify for you."

"My children, they both witnessed Fark's threats that day!"

Hearing their mother say this, the tears of the two children flowed even more uncontrollably. They were already crying too hard to articulate the problem, but from their demeanor, Feng Yi didn't think they were lying.

This is why he hates being in the public eye. Why must such thankless tasks always fall on him? The money is not much, yet it requires a great deal of effort to uphold the so-called justice of a freelance mercenary.

It should be known that he was looking for business partners who are wealthy, extravagant, not a bunch of refugees who can't even afford a meal. But after all, he is a freelance mercenary—collecting protection money is one thing, but if it involves murder...

Feng Yi waved his hand irritably, "Keep your pitiful coins, I got it."

"Sir Feng, does that mean you have agreed?"

"Yes, just don't bother me about it again."

Tuning away, Feng Yi walked on, his mood somewhat soured. He wished he had never heard about this. He had planned to continue his ambushes in the evening and also to test out the effectiveness of the high-altitude surveillance equipment.

Ten minutes later, at the Marco Polo Colosseum. This is the local gang's hideout. Despite the harsh living conditions on Colonial Planet 103, the underground coliseum was still the richest and most frantic underground place in every major district, gathering countless criminals.

You could strike it rich overnight here, but 'overnight riches' is relative to the economic ecology of Colonial Planet 103; it's also possible to enter alive and leave horizontally.

Under the fierce gaze of the black-clad guards, Feng Yi pointed irritably at the mercenary notice, indicating that he was there for a mission.

He was actually a freelance mercenary. Normally, freelance mercenaries would avoid such places, but the guards exchanged a look and didn't say much, waiting until Feng Yi had left to then pick up an old-fashioned phone and dial a number.

Meanwhile, Feng Yi had already arrived in the vast arena. The indoor crowd was boiling, with at least 2000 heads—a number that made finding Fark very difficult.

Feng Yi has always been known for his swift and decisive actions, lacking patience and never beating around the bush. Anxious to get the miserable, unpaid commission over with, the annoyed silver revolver in his hand was already making successive sounds of Wind Thunder.

Bang...

With a gunshot, the venue suddenly quieted down, and countless men and women threw bewildered looks towards the guy who fired the warning shot. From his attire, it was clear that he was a life-on-the-edge mercenary—and although not tall, standing only at 1.7 meters, especially since Feng Yi was still at a youthful stage, people could perceive a touch of cunning in his practiced gun holstering.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to interrupt your leisure time, but I must eliminate a bastard. This shouldn't take up much of your time. His name is Fark, what an awful name. Now, I am going to have a fair showdown with him."

The entire venue burst into laughter at Feng Yi's words... Women's sneers, men's disdain, and the whistling and cursing suddenly resounded across the vast underground platform.

However, the perceptive ones had already realized that the situation wasn't as simple as it seemed because they had recognized the identity of the person in question—Feng Yi from the Seventh District, known as the revolver gunman of the lightning storm.

"I am Fark, you asshole." The man who claimed to be Fark slowly stepped out from behind the stage, visibly annoyed. He had a body full of explosive power, dark as roasted chicken, and disgusting stubble, "Kid, I won't deny you're looking to die, but you've come to the wrong place."

"My name is Feng Yi, I have both a name and a surname. I like muddying the waters, but you've wasted my time, now draw your weapon."

"Feng Yi…" Fark chewed over the name, and then was instantly startled, "Hey, you are that overrated brat, I accept your challenge."

"Are you ready, asshole."

"Give me a moment, I need to take a drink."

As if performing a pre-battle ritual, Fark took a big swig of liquor, "I don't believe some greenhorn can have such good marksmanship, it's time for you to die, come on, I'm going to blow your head off."

Upon hearing this, Feng Yi nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, "There have been many guys who've said the same, you won't be the last."

A heavy air of murderous intent silently filled the surroundings as both parties prepared for battle.

Feng Yi asked, "Shall we count down?"

"No need."

As Fark spoke, another gunshot resounded through the hall; unsurprisingly for the Lightning Storm, Feng Yi's drawing and firing speed was indescribable. He drew the gun, locked onto the target, and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion. During this time, Fark's hand hadn't even managed to pull the weapon from its holster.

Or rather, before he knew what was happening, he felt something was off and reflexively touched his swelling forehead, only to find his hand stained with a trace of blood.

Boom… A heavy, muffled sound accompanied his body falling to the ground.

At the same time, numerous outlaws quickly drew their guns, pointing them at Feng Yi.

'I knew it would not be simple.'

While Feng Yi was making a sarcastic comment, his hands were fast, drawing another revolver from his waist and starting a barrage of crossfire. This was the strongest technique he learned from Spades A, the king of revolvers. In exchange, Spades A also learned the art of squatting over bar pits from him, which seemed useless but helped A earn a hefty amount of Gold Coins.

In an instant, the seven men ready to draw were already lying in pools of blood.

The formerly peaceful atmosphere was now pierced by the successive sound of gunfire.

As the boss of the underground arena appeared, things finally came to an end. He had just received a message from his guards that a freelance mercenary had arrived. By the time the boss got there and recognized the newcomer, things had already turned sour.

The boss didn't want to start a fight with Feng Yi; real gangsters don't act as recklessly as depicted in movies, killing and fighting without regard for consequences. He was well aware of who Feng Yi was and why he was there.

Watching as Feng Yi turned to leave, disappearing, the boss merely clenched his fist, instructing his men to dispose of the bodies without further comment.

Feng Yi was a law enforcer, an enforcer in a lawless land, whoever wanted him dead had to be prepared to be killed by him at the same time. Feng Yi has survived in this place of turmoil and disorder not merely by impulse.

He survived on connections and status.

What Feng Yi relied on, however, was absolute strength.

Between two evils, one chooses the lesser, and rather than seek revenge on Feng Yi, this underworld boss, who operates violence under the guise of law enforcement, obviously cared more about his own safety.

Indeed, they were not good people, but Feng Yi was not just a bad person; to put it nicely, he was a freelance mercenary, but in fact, he was a desperado. The usual approach to such people was to keep a respectful distance—unless you were certain you could eliminate them. Otherwise, you would be the one to die. Feng Yi's strength was clearly sufficient to not fear any forces of the Colonial Planet 103. That this incident happened to befall him could only be attributed to bad luck and his subordinates' incompetence in leaving loose ends.

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