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Russia – Siberia
John Wick stepped out of Ivan Vanko's house. It could be said that obtaining the final Dragon Ball had been the easiest part of his entire journey.
He hadn't relied on any connections, nor had he made any promises. He had simply raised the price by ten dollars and acquired exactly what he wanted.
At the thought of it, a faint smile appeared at the corner of John Wick's mouth.
"Helen… we'll see each other again very soon."
All seven Dragon Balls had now been collected. All that remained was for him to return to the Assassin Guild's headquarters in New York and gather them together to make his wish.
The thought made John Wick eager to turn around and head back immediately.
He wasted no time in Russia, traveling back to New York through the Assassin Guild's channels.
On the way, John Wick sent a message to his friends, informing them that major changes had occurred at the highest level and advising them to stay out of the conflict and not get involved.
Elsewhere
The Elders convened once again in the High Table's chamber—but the outcome was far from ideal.
Although it had been confirmed that only Smith Doyle possessed extraordinary power, the High Table still could not come up with a better solution. Their last large-scale deployment of elite forces and soldiers had ended in complete failure.
They had considered using missiles to eliminate Smith Doyle directly, but they lacked both the strength and the courage to do so in New York.
Minor skirmishes could be ignored, but launching missiles would be classified as a true terrorist attack. The Assassin Guild's counterterrorism forces would be deployed immediately to destroy them.
Some Elders proposed reconciliation, but few believed it would succeed.
While the Elders were still debating, the Assassin Guild launched another coordinated strike, targeting three factions simultaneously.
Smith Doyle led Fox and Guild members into Italy, launching a surprise attack on the Mafia boss.
The moment they arrived at the estate, Guild members occupied every high point, sniper rifles already set up for long-range support.
Fox's task was clear: eliminate personnel swiftly while organizing an escape route if needed.
Smith Doyle approached the estate gate. He didn't ring the bell—he simply leapt over the wall.
The gates and fences were meaningless obstacles to him.
Without concealing himself, Smith Doyle soon encountered patrolling guards.
"Stop!"
"Who are you?"
Smith Doyle halted, snapped his fingers, and gave no reply.
Crack. Crack.
The patrol guards were shot through the head and died on the spot.
Smith glanced toward the direction the bullets came from, smiled faintly, and continued toward the villa.
Through his scope, Fox saw the slight curve at the corner of Smith Doyle's lips. He and his teammates continued firing at approaching Mafia members.
Bodies fell one after another, cut down by distant snipers as Smith Doyle advanced. Only when he entered the villa—creating a blind zone—did the supporting fire cease.
Smith Doyle confronted the Mafia members inside and threw a punch.
The man was sent flying, slamming into the wall before collapsing.
"Hah!"
"Too weak."
"Can't you at least warm me up?"
"What are you hesitating for? Can't even pull the trigger?"
Smith Doyle moved like an unstoppable force. No Mafia member inside the villa could match him. He crushed them effortlessly, driving them into corners.
At that moment, Maktoum—who was in the middle of a meeting—saw his men rush in and shouted:
"What's all this panic?"
"Do you have any idea I'm in a meeting?"
One of his men leaned close and whispered:
"Smith Doyle is here to kill us. His people have already wiped out our external forces."
"He's inside the villa."
Maktoum's face changed instantly. He turned to the attendees and said:
"My apologies. The Assassin Guild has attacked me. I need to handle this."
At the same time, the Russian Elder and the German Illuminati Elder reported attacks and terminated the video conference, leaving the remaining six Elders in visible panic.
In fact, at the very moment Smith made his move, Mr. X and Wesley launched simultaneous assaults on two other Elders. This time, the attacks were perfectly synchronized.
Smith Doyle's slaughter continued.
A door opened, and Elder Maktoum emerged, surrounded by heavily armed High Table emissaries.
"Mr. Smith… can we talk?"
Smith Doyle smiled at the well-dressed man before him.
"Maktoum, what exactly do you think we should talk about?"
Though he loathed the Assassin Guild, Maktoum forced himself to say:
"Anything can be discussed. There's no need for hostility."
"If this fight can be stopped, the High Table is willing to pay any price."
Smith Doyle shook his head.
"I don't care what you can offer."
"This world is filthy."
"It needs to be cleansed."
"Wolf Fang Gale Fist!"
Without wasting another second, Smith Doyle charged forward.
"Hah!"
The marble floor shattered beneath his feet as he lunged like a ferocious wolf. Though Maktoum's guards reacted slightly too late, they still opened fire.
"Rat-tat-tat!"
Smith Doyle dodged every bullet and charged straight into the crowd.
With a single clawing strike, he crushed one man's neck. A kick sent another flying into the wall, leaving a massive crack behind.
"Ahhh—!"
Boom!
Seeing the carnage, Maktoum turned in terror and fled toward the safe room behind him.
Before Smith Doyle could even complete a full Wolf Fang Gale combo, every guard present had already been killed.
Maktoum reached the safe room, but before he could open the door, Smith Doyle caught up.
"What—?!"
Smith Doyle punched him from behind. Maktoum's body slammed into the reinforced door and slowly slid down.
Smith pulled out his phone and called Fox.
"Maktoum has been dealt with. Except for those still outside, have everyone come in and clean up the area."
"Yes, God!"
Fox ended the call and announced over the radio:
"Team Three stays behind to ensure no outside interference. All other teams proceed with area clearance."