Chapter 4 Reaper Comes into the World
Inside the Diamond Palace Hotel, chaos reigned.
Mario screamed hysterically at the bodyguard beside him, "Call the Godfather! Call the Godfather now! The press conference is ruined! That man... that man wants to destroy the Romano family!"
The bodyguard finally snapped out of it and frantically dialed a number that was almost never called.
This number was the direct line to the highest power of the Romano family.
In the entire Chicago underworld, events worthy of making this line ring could be counted on one hand. Each time it rang, it meant someone was going to die.
The call connected.
"Who hurt my son?"
No questioning tone, no angry roar.
Just a chilling calm.
The speaker was the Godfather of the Romano family—Vito Romano.
The true king of Chicago's underworld.
This name, on the dark map of the Great Lakes region, was synonymous with death itself.
Thirty years ago, he started with a shotgun and seven brothers, killing his way from the slums of Chicago's South Side to the top of the pyramid.
Now, the Romano family's reach extended throughout both political and business circles, commanding thousands of loyal desperados. Even the FBI was wary of them.
The bodyguard trembled as he reported everything that had happened in detail.
Then a low chuckle came through the receiver. "One man... broke into my hotel, crippled my son's hand, and in front of all of Chicago's elite, said he would make the Romano family vanish into thin air."
Vito's voice remained calm, yet everyone who heard it on this end of the line shuddered involuntarily.
"Pass on my order. Issue the Blood, Hunt."
The Blood Hunt!
This was the Romano family's highest-level kill order!
In the thirty years since Vito took power, this order had only been issued twice.
The first time, the target was a senior advisor who betrayed the family. Within forty-eight hours, the man's body was cut into seven pieces and sent separately to the seven families he had worked with.
The second time, the target was a Mexican drug cartel trying to grab territory in Chicago's South Side. Three days later, that cartel completely disappeared from the face of the earth, not even a bone left behind.
Now, the third time.
Target—Leo.
"I don't care who he is, I don't care who's backing him."
Vito's voice finally carried a hint of emotion—a world-destroying killing intent.
"Before tonight ends, I want to see his corpse. If I don't see it before dawn, then tomorrow, it's all of you who will die."
Then the call disconnected.
The order spread at an alarming speed, like a plague through Chicago's dark veins.
Within just ten minutes.
All six combat teams directly under the Romano family were activated.
Enforcers, hitmen, and mercenaries scattered throughout Chicago's districts all received the same encrypted message.
[Blood Hunt—Target: Young male, black suit, traveling alone. Last seen: Diamond Palace Hotel. Bounty for the kill: five million dollars.]
Five million dollars!
This figure was enough to drive any desperado crazy.
In an instant, Chicago's entire underworld boiled over.
"Five million dollars! The Romano family is offering five million for one man's life?"
"They issued the Blood Hunt! This is only the third time in thirty years!"
"I heard someone crashed the Diamond Palace Hotel press conference and crippled Mr. Romano's hand!"
"Is he crazy? Touching the Godfather's son? This guy has a death wish!"
"Who cares who he is—five million is enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life. I'm in!"
Countless black sedans and modified vans poured out from every corner of Chicago.
South Side street gangs, North Side professional killers, West Side underground fight club enforcers...
Even some small criminal organizations that usually stayed out of the Romano family's way started moving.
The five-million-dollar bounty drove everyone crazy.
Dense streams of headlights, like glowing serpents, weaved and converged through Chicago's rain-soaked streets.
Rough estimate.
Armed personnel heading toward a five-mile radius around the Diamond Palace Hotel numbered no less than three hundred.
Firearms, knives, and some even carry shotguns.
The entire city was shrouded in a crazed web of death.
Tonight, Chicago had become a hunting ground.
However.
At this very moment.
While the entire underworld went crazy for him, Leo was walking alone in the rain.
No umbrella.
No car.
His pace was unhurried, as if taking a stroll.
The cigar he'd lit at Luke's grave was still in his mouth, its orange glow flickering in the rain.
Rainwater slid down his chiseled face, soaking the collar of his black suit, but he seemed oblivious.
The streetlights on Michigan Avenue cast yellow halos in the rain, stretching his solitary shadow long and thin.
Leo took a deep drag on his cigar and exhaled a cloud of smoke, instantly scattered by the autumn rain.
Chicago was cold tonight, but colder than the autumn rain was his heart.
Just now at the Diamond Palace Hotel, Alice's utterly fake face overlapped with Luke's dying words on the phone: "She's the love of my life."
Luke, the woman you protected with your life, turned around and did business with your killer, stepping on your bones.
Your beloved—this is what she amounts to.
He would settle this account slowly.
Step by step.
Everyone who deserved to die wouldn't escape.
With the harsh sound of tires screeching on wet pavement, three black SUVs suddenly blocked the middle of the road.
Doors flew open one after another, and more than a dozen burly men in black leather jackets jumped out, uniformly armed with semi-automatic pistols and short-barreled shotguns.
Leading them was a bald man with a viper tattoo on his neck, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, his eyes locked viciously on Leo, walking slowly through the rain.
"That's him! Black suit, traveling alone, matches the description in the alert exactly!"
"Boys, five million dollars! After this job, I'm living in presidential suites every day!"
"Surround him! Don't let him get away!"
The dozen men quickly spread out, forming a crescent-shaped encirclement, gun barrels all aimed at Leo.
Almost simultaneously.
Behind him on the street, two more modified vans roared up. The cargo doors slid open, disgorging twenty more armed thugs.
From the alley on the left.
From the parking lot on the right.
Even on the overpass above, dark figures were moving.
In less than thirty seconds, the entire street was blocked tight.
A rough count.
At least seventy or eighty people!
And still increasing—the sounds of engines and tires in the distance rose and fell, more and more vehicles converging on this location.
A forest of gun barrels.
Killing intent saturated the air.
In these people's eyes, there was only hunger for the bounty.
Five million dollars was enough to make them kill a stranger without any psychological burden.
Facing such a formation, Leo didn't even break stride.
He maintained his unhurried pace, stepping through puddles, walking straight toward the center of the encirclement.
The cigar's glow flickered in the darkness.
The bald leader with the viper tattoo watched Leo approach fearlessly, his pupils contracting slightly.
This man...
Something's wrong.
A normal person with dozens of guns pointed at them should be kneeling and begging for mercy, or at least pale-faced with trembling legs.
But this young man walked with the ease of someone strolling through his own backyard.
In those eyes, there was no fear, no panic, not even basic tension. There was only a... scalp-tingling indifference.
He looked at them like they were already dead.
"Stop pretending!"
The bald man suppressed the unease in his heart, aimed his gun at Leo's forehead, and shouted, "You're the target of the Romano family's Blood Hunt. You think you alone can kill everyone here?"
"If you're smart, get on your knees!"
"When we deliver your head to the Godfather, maybe we'll leave you with an intact corpse!"
As his words fell.
Leo finally stopped walking.
He slowly removed the cigar from his mouth, flicked off the ash, and looked up to survey the dense array of gun barrels surrounding him.
