American Comics: Tales of Cultivator

Chapter 71: Demonic Whispers

Xiao Hei flapped its fleshy membrane wings, flying in mid-air. Its hissing made listeners shudder.

Directly below it, a pool of green viscous liquid was continuously corroding the carpet, emitting a pungent foul smell.

This pool of liquid was the only evidence that Myron Walker had ever existed.

"Hiss!"

Xiao Hei, circling in mid-air, suddenly made a sharp turn and flew downstairs through the stairwell door Myron Walker had crashed through.

In a guest room on the first floor, Xiao Hei flew to the door, circled for a moment, and suddenly let out a hiss.

Blue electric light flickered on its black scales. As it darted forward, a bullet-like hole appeared on the hard guest room door, the area around the hole charred black.

"Hiss..."

Inside the room, a man in a trench coat was wiping down his firearms. Just as he heard the hiss and looked up...

A streak of high-intensity reddish-white current instantly engulfed him.

Near the Bulgari Hotel was a garment studio. This shop facing the street had fabric, manual sewing machines, and hanging semi-finished clothes visible through the glass.

Clearly, this studio was one of Italy's characteristic industries: artisan tailoring.

Thanks to Milan's luxury goods industry and Italy's cultural output in global clothing brands.

Italy's high-end luxury brands are popular worldwide: Prada, Gucci, Versace, Bulgari, Dolce & Gabbana, Valentino...

These well-known major brands all originate from Italy.

(Besides operating hotels, Bulgari is also the world's third-ranked jewelry brand.) A century ago, the concept of industrial production swept through the Federation and Europe, but some Italian artisans were stubborn; they believed in tradition:

Shoes must fit, clothes must be tailored, and the fabric must be good and durable.

This completely deviated from the concept of large-scale industrial production where efficiency reigns supreme.

Not everyone had the courage to go against the tide of the times.

This obsession with tradition gave rise to a batch of excellent brands known for fine craftsmanship. Among the world's top ten men's wear brands, Italian brands occupy eight spots.

They insisted on hand-making suits, not even using any sewing machines.

They believed that only handmade items possessed unique features.

A purely hand-stitched suit could not be replicated through industrial production processes.

Well-fitting, comfortable, a truly good tailor could produce no more than a dozen pieces of clothes per year, but this only made many tycoons flock to them even more.

You get what you pay for. Take the white suits Tang Song wore, for example; one suit could cost as much as eighty to ninety thousand US Dollars. Such a high price was enough to deter ordinary humans.

Judging by that sewing machine, the tailor in this shop clearly hadn't reached the level of serving top tycoons.

After all, the most top-tier tailors claimed that all 7000 stitches were sewn by hand.

Through the glass window, flickering red dots could vaguely be seen inside the shop building.

"Jeremy, something's not right. Myron Walker went in half an hour ago, and we haven't heard a single sound!"

Using fabric from the shop to prop up their gun rests, two assassins set up two sniper rifles, lay prone on the ground, and aimed at the target room in the hotel across the street.

One assassin turned his head and saw his accomplice smoking a cigarette.

He knocked the cigarette out of his accomplice's mouth and snapped in a low voice, "Jeremy, how many times have I told you, don't smoke when you're on a mission! It'll get you killed!"

By the firelight of the cigarette butt, Jeremy could be seen. He looked like a white youth in his twenties, with blond hair, a tattoo on half his face, a nose ring, and an unruly expression.

"Alright, Uncle, if you ask me, we should just use a rocket launcher to blow up the room with the person inside! I know an arms dealer. When the army upgraded their gear, he took the opportunity to get a batch of weapons the military had just phased out. Honestly, the sniper rifles we have should be replaced too..."

Looking at his chattering nephew, the older assassin rubbed his forehead helplessly. He was just about to educate his rookie nephew about the Continental Hotel rules...

A flash of white light exploded in the dark room. *Whoosh!* His head flew straight off.

Blood spurted skyward, drenching Jeremy's head and face.

Feeling the viscous blood on his body and face, and looking at his uncle's head that had landed in his arms...

Jeremy let out a shrill, piercing scream, like a little girl who had been [censored].

*Whoosh!* With one strike, Blade sent the young assassin to join his uncle. Blade picked up a piece of fabric, wiped his silver-plated longsword clean, and his figure vanished into the darkness, searching for the next target.

For Blade, the dark night was the perfect cover.

The reason he appeared here was, of course, because of West.

As a local strongman, the fact that the Continental Hotel had put Tang Song on a hit list naturally couldn't be hidden from West.

Valuing Tang Song as a junior, West not only sent Blade to assist but also dispatched a group of Inquisitors from the Inquisition.

...

"Thump thump..."

An assassin dual-wielding UZIs pulled the trigger, aiming at the armored figures in front of him.

These suddenly appearing armored strongmen, clad in ancient Roman bronze armor and wielding various cold weapons, attacked the assassins surrounding the Bulgari Hotel as soon as they appeared.

Firearms versus cold weapons, the advantage is mine! This was the first reaction of many assassins upon seeing these strongmen who looked like they were cosplaying.

What a joke, how many years has it been since the era of cold weapons passed?

However, when they truly faced these strongmen wearing bronze armor, the assassins finally understood what despair felt like.

"Thump thump thump..."

The magazines of the two UZIs in his hands instantly emptied. Fifty bullets squarely hit the bronze armor of the strongman before him.

After the clanging sounds, the assassin watched in despair as white holy light shimmered on the strongman's bronze armor.

"God loves the world!"

Before the assassin could reload, this Inquisitor from the Inquisition uttered a pious prayer, became enveloped in a layer of white holy light, and charged sideways towards the assassin.

The strongman's charge was like a wild boar's rush. His elbow directly shattered the assassin's chest cavity, sending him flying over ten meters away.

An assassin wearing a one-piece leather suit and a full-face helmet saw the situation was bad, twisted the accelerator, and tried to escape.

"Whoosh whoosh..."

An Inquisitor held a bronze flail head the size of a human head in one hand.

Swinging the flail, the hammerhead, attached to a chain, directly sent the assassin and his motorcycle flying.

"Shit, what are these monsters!"

Watching a strongman in bronze armor swing a medieval greatsword, cleaving a well-known assassin and his gun in half with one strike.

Many assassins who had been observing could no longer sit still and scattered, fleeing in all directions.

Is this the true power of the Inquisition?

Bulgari Hotel. Tang Song appeared on the rooftop without anyone knowing.

With his hands behind his back, he watched the group of strongmen in bronze armor slaughtering the assassins from the Continental Hotel below.

"Physical quality, muscle strength is roughly 1.5 to 2 times that of an ordinary human. The bronze armor they wear comes with Holy Light enchantment!"

Watching a strongman wearing gloves punch a car door, denting it inwards,

A car weighing several tons was forcibly shifted four to five meters by a single punch.

Tang Song raised an eyebrow. This strength, even Captain America dug out of the ice would be slightly inferior.

He could tell that these strongmen indeed had good physical quality, but even the one with the best physical quality was only evenly matched with Captain America.

However, the bronze armor and weapons they wore seemed to provide them with a certain strength amplification.

Enchantment, or Angel's Blessing? Tang Song pondered the legends of Western religion.

He flicked his fingers. Two **Sword Pills** flew out, spinning, and split into two **Sword Shadows** over ten meters long in mid-air.

Two cars attempting to sneak attack and ram the armored strongmen were directly cleaved in two by the sharp **Sword Qi**, revealing the trembling drivers inside.

The strongman holding the chain flail looked at Tang Song standing on the rooftop and nodded at him.

Then, without hesitation, he swung the flail towards the two assassins.

...

Around three or four in the morning, outside the Bulgari Hotel, it was quiet.

A group of people wearing waterproof jumpsuits and rain hoods appeared on the street in two trucks.

In the presidential suite of the Bulgari Hotel, Tang Song stood by the window, quietly watching this group of "colleagues" moving the corpses outside the hotel and cleaning up the scene.

"Boss!"

Lane had taken off his bulletproof vest and was still dressed as a butler, standing behind Tang Song.

"Find a gold shop and order a batch of **Crosses**. Take them with you tomorrow and come with me to the Vatican! Oh, and don't forget to add a layer of silver plating to the outside of these **Crosses**!"

Tang Song watched the busy "Cleaners" below clearing the corpses, rubbing his **Black Jade Thumb Ring**, and said to Lane.

"I understand, Boss!" Lane nodded!

...

"Boss! Someone is here to visit!"

Tang Song was having breakfast.

Lane, who was preparing to go and discuss compensation matters with the Bulgari Hotel, suddenly led someone in.

Tang Song put down the chopsticks in his hand and looked at the visitor.

"Mr. Tang, hello! I am Willie Gambino!"

Willie Gambino bowed and introduced himself to Tang Song.

"Gambino?" Tang Song repeated with a smile, sizing up the Italian man in a suit before him.

"Mr. Tang, I apologize for the trouble the Gambino family has caused you. Although I am just an adopted son of the Gambino family, I am willing to take full responsibility!"

Willie Gambino took a check from his pocket and respectfully presented it to Tang Song with both hands.

"This is a small token of my sincerity, please accept it!"

Tang Song looked at the numbers on the check, his fingers lightly tapping on the table.

Willie Gambino felt as if each tap from Tang Song was hitting him. This feeling of torment was like a fish on a chopping block waiting to be slaughtered.

Beads of sweat trickled down Willie Gambino's forehead onto the carpet. He didn't even dare to raise a hand to wipe them away.

"You are the manager of the Continental Hotel?!"

Tang Song's single sentence instantly made Willie Gambino's legs turn to jelly.

"Mr. Tang, this was all Old Gambino's idea. I have already withdrawn your bounty from the Continental Hotel!"

Willie Gambino explained repeatedly.

He couldn't help but be afraid. As an adopted son aspiring to inherit the Gambino family, he had placed many people within the Gambino Estate.

Therefore, he learned the news of Old Gambino, including his sons, grandsons, and a large number of family members, disappearing immediately.

Coupled with the annihilation of a large number of assassins from the Continental Hotel, even if Willie Gambino was stupid, he would understand what had happened.

Willie Gambino was not a fool; a fool wouldn't be able to reach the position of Continental Hotel manager as an adopted son of the family.

This was also why he rushed to the Bulgari Hotel immediately, compensated the hotel for its losses, and offered almost all of his net worth.

Tang Song waved his hand, signaling Lane to take the check from Willie. He looked at Willie Gambino and asked.

"Do you want to become the head of the Gambino family!"

Yes, only a fool wouldn't! Willie Gambino almost blurted it out, but when he met Tang Song's half-smiling gaze, it was like a basin of cold water poured over his head, instantly calming him down.

"Mr. Tang, I am just an adopted son of the family; I am not qualified to inherit the family's industries!"

"Haven't they all disappeared?" Tang Song interrupted Willie Gambino.

"There are still some family members who were not at the Manor..." Willie Gambino paused. He met Tang Song's gaze and instantly understood his meaning.

"I will have people help you, help you take the position of head of the Gambino family,"

Tang Song's words sounded like the demonic whispers of a demon in Willie Gambino's ear.

"I think five Mafia families in Italy are simply too many. What do you think, Godfather?"

Over an hour later, Willie Gambino walked out of the Bulgari Hotel in a daze.

(end of chapter)