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This is more than 300 lives!

Zhang Ming is like a butcher. He breeds criminals, feeds them, arms them, makes them confident, and finally goes forward... to die!

Miyamoto didn't know that these 300 people were all carefully selected by Zhang Ming, and each of them carried at least one life on their backs.

There was a loud gunshot in the Hand headquarters. After a while, the gunfire became weaker, and the screams increased. After a while, even the screams disappeared.

The simple and elegant Japanese-style courtyard has regained its tranquility, and the gurgling sound of the small river can be heard vaguely.

The three people outside knew that it wasn't some bullshit river, it was the sound of human blood flowing.

"3 minutes."

Zhang Ming glanced at his watch, "It's even more useless than I thought. Well, it's time for us to go in."

Zhang Ming and Didara had both hands empty, while Miyamoto took out a long knife and a pistol from the weapon box, and then bravely walked in.

There were no corpses to be seen in the courtyard, and the blood stains on the ground were cleaned up without knowing what to do.

If it weren't for the strong smell of blood and some bullet holes on the ground, it seemed that there hadn't been a massacre at all.

"Be careful, I can feel that they are nearby." Miyamoto reminded in a low voice.

There are cherry trees planted in the courtyard. Because it is winter, the leaves have fallen off, and the branches of the trees are stretched to the sky. Under the moonlight, the ground casts mottled shadows.

Suddenly, dozens of pitch-black darts flew quickly along the shadow of the ground, stabbing Zhang Ming's back.

Zhang Ming didn't even move, Pinru's clothes defended on their own, the dart fell to the ground with a clang, and at the same time, there were continuous subtle explosions in the dark corner.

Before the ninjas died, they found white clay spiders crawling on them silently.

Seeing the charred ninja corpses on the ground, Miyamoto secretly swallowed. Judging from their clothes, these people are the elite of the Hand, the most outstanding killing machines, and they were not expected to be solved so easily.

"move on."

After that, they dealt with another seven rounds of attacks, and none of the ninjas could delay for a second.

Just like Payne was able to sweep the Hand through and become leader of the organization in a matter of days.With Zhang Ming and Didala working together, it is also impossible for a group of ordinary ninjas to stop them.

Finally, they came to a huge tea room.

Outside the tea room, there is a large open space. The floor is covered with a layer of fine white sandstone, and the surface is combed with extremely neat ripples. This is the product of meticulous care every day.

In the tea room, a Japanese man in a traditional kimono is sipping tea.

"It's such a joy to have friends coming from afar." His Chinese is very standard, and his gray and white hair is tied into a ball at the back of his head.The man knelt on the tatami, with his back straight, nodded slightly towards Zhang Ming, stretched out his right hand, and asked Zhang Ming to sit over.

Zhang Ming stepped on the white gravel floor, took off his shoes and walked into the tea room. Didara followed. When Miyamoto took off his shoes, Zhang Ming sniffed and frowned slightly.

"That... Miyamoto, you stay outside."

"Oh."

Miyamoto put on his shoes again and walked out. This action made the three people in the tea room subconsciously breathe a sigh of relief.

Zhang Ming didn't know how to sit on his knees. He sat cross-legged opposite the man in the kimono, and glanced at the Japanese sword beside his leg.

"who are you?"

"Murakami. One of the five founders of the Hand."

"You don't look like the founder, but a chess piece thrown out for me to eat."

"You're right, I'm an outcast."

Murakami poured tea for Zhang Ming. His tea ceremony was exquisite, and his every move was full of ancient rhymes.

"As an abandoned child, I have a merciless request."

"What?" Zhang Ming asked.

Murakami raised his teacup, "After drinking this cup of tea, I will try to kill you. If I fail, I will either die by your hands or commit suicide. I want you...to save my life."

Circles of dark ripples gradually appeared in Murakami's eyes.

"Reincarnation Eye?" Didara was the first to react, "This is Payne's illusion!"

"Why should I save you?" Zhang Ming asked.

"Because I'm still useful. I have information, and I can help you kill people."

Murakami's hand holding the teacup trembled slightly, and the black ripples in his eyes became deeper and deeper.

"Okay, I promise you."

"Thank you." Murakami drank the tea in one gulp.

Then he took the knife.

Chapter 140 Three Welcome to New York

Some anime works depict the Japanese sword drawing technique very powerfully, as if the moment when the long sword is inserted into the scabbard is the most dangerous time for the warrior.

Closing the blade represents repression, patience and waiting;

A knife represents bursting, rioting and fighting;

These two emotions are actually in line with the character of the Japanese.