A remote town fifty kilometers north of Quantico Town.
Hawk had seen the terrain near Quantico on satellite maps, so he roughly knew how to drive to Quantico after leaving the airport.
Therefore, when the young black man drove the vehicle off his intended route just now, Hawk became suspicious.
His memory was already good, and after awakening his Little Universe, his memory also underwent a qualitative leap.
Hawk got out of the car and looked around.
Remote.
Muddy.
Hmm.
It was a good place for robbery, murder, and then burying a body; no wonder the young black man drove the car here.
Hawke thought to himself.
Behind him.
The young black man in the car was bruised and swollen, but his life was not in danger; he was just still screaming miserably.
Hawke didn't kill him.
At least not yet.
After a while.
Hawke turned around, opened the car door, and with a single pull of his right hand, directly dragged the wailing young black man out of the car with one hand, then threw him onto the dirt road, which was muddy from recent rain.
"Thud!"
After being thrown to the ground, the young black man felt dizzy and disoriented, but driven by the instinct to survive, he quickly scrambled up from the ground, knelt before Hawke, and his voice trembled: "Please, don't kill me, please, don't kill me, I know I was wrong."
Hawke looked at the young black man in front of him, who was as pathetic now as he had been arrogant moments ago.
His voice was cold.
"You don't know you were wrong; you just know you're going to die."
"…"
The young black man's body stiffened, and his voice, begging for mercy, became even more shaky.
Hawke narrowed his eyes: "Give me a reason not to kill you."
The young black man was slightly stunned.
The next second.
He raised his bruised and swollen head to look at Hawke, his voice urgent, searching for hope of survival for himself.
"My car is yours, my money, oh right, I have money, my money can also be yours."
"Not enough. If I kill you, your car and money will still be mine."
Hawke shook his head expressionlessly.
"Think again!"
"…You can't kill me. If you kill me, you'll be wanted too. As long as you don't kill me, don't worry, I promise I won't tell anyone about this. Please, don't kill me."
The young black man spoke urgently, his eyes revealing an infinite desire to live.
Hawke heard this, glanced at the young black man, and lowered his gaze, deep in thought.
He seemed to be pondering how credible the young black man's words were.
The young black man kneeling before him felt a surge of joy when he saw Hawke's gaze move away from him.
While continuously pleading in a whining voice, the young black man cautiously moved his right hand towards his lower back.
The next second.
"Ah!"
The young black man pulled a folding knife from his waist, then let out a strange cry, and suddenly erupted, his expression ferocious, lunging at Hawke with the folding knife: "Die!"
The moment Hawke raised his eyes, his gaze was icy, and he directly slapped him.
Thump thump thump!
The young black man's head began to spin rapidly, like a winding clock, in an instant.
Faster and faster.
Tighter and tighter.
Until…
Pfft!
The neck, twisted into a pretzel and no longer able to maintain its form, was torn from the body with a snap.
"Splutter! Splutter!"
"Gulp gulp!"
Hawke lowered his gaze again, looking at the young black man's head, which had rolled to his feet, its face still contorted in a ferocious expression, and a mocking smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"I was really going to let you go."
"What a pity."
"Your skin color has too strong a root of inferiority."
"You fear power, not virtue!"
"I gave you the only chance I might ever have to be soft-hearted in this life, but you thought I was afraid."
"Heh!"
Hawke thought, his gaze then falling on the headless corpse that was still spurting blood with a splutter because its head-stopper was gone.
He wasn't lying; he had truly been considering letting the young black man go just now.
Not only because he was here for serious business and didn't want to create complications by killing the young black man, thereby affecting his subsequent plans.
The most important reason was another one.
Bottom line.
Just as Hawke had said before, once the bottom line was broken, he couldn't imagine what he would become in the future.
Killing is like a valve.
Once this valve is opened, life will no longer be revered.
This is especially true for a Transmigrator who has crossed over and already possesses a flexible moral bottom line.
The Chitauri soldiers before were different.
After all, Hawke had seen the true appearance of the Chitauri soldiers, and those Chitauri soldiers, though they might resemble humans, were essentially insects.
Humans don't feel guilty about killing insects, and Hawke likewise wouldn't bestow his principles and bottom line upon a group of refined insects.
But this young black man in front of him was different.
In fact, it was just as Hawke had thought.
Although this was Hawke's first time killing in the true sense, looking at the headless corpse spurting blood in front of him, he not only felt no discomfort but not even a hint of psychological activity.
No, wait.
There was something.
It seemed no different from the killed Chitauri.
Hawke thought to himself, subconsciously closing his eyes.
He hadn't thought about closing this valve again.
Anything is either zero times or countless times.
Now that the valve of killing had been opened, then, whether he wanted to or not, at least, from today onwards, killing would no longer be rejected by him.
Having thought that.
Hawke turned around, no longer looking at the head lying in the mud, nor the headless corpse spurting blood beside it. After opening the car door and getting in, he glanced up at the clear blue sky, then ducked into the car, stepped on the gas, and drove away from the small road.
He had no interest in digging a pit for this young black man or anything like that.
The killing valve had been opened, and there was no possibility of closing it again. Since that was the case, whether the young black man's body was discovered or not was no longer an issue for him.
Killing one is killing.
Then, killing another, or how many more, is just a matter of quantity.
But…
"You can kill."
"But you cannot be bloodthirsty."
"True power always retains a humble heart."
Hawke thought silently to himself. After driving the taxi out of the secluded path, he only glanced once before finding the correct road, then drove towards Quantico Town, which was still some distance away.
He just didn't have a driver's license in this life, but that didn't mean he couldn't drive.
As Hawke's vehicle drove out of this path, which normally didn't see many people, the path gradually returned to its usual silence and remoteness.
About half an hour later.
Footsteps once again broke the silence of the secluded path.
Followed by a second, then a third.
Soon.
Three men wearing sunglasses arrived on the path, their gaze falling on the head in the mud and the headless corpse that was no longer spurting blood.
...
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