Los Angeles Legendary Sleuth

"Haha..." The man wearing a hood let out a laugh and took a golden pocket watch from his pocket.

"Old man, do you want to play a game?

I'll give you one minute, you can either run or find any weapon other than the shotgun. After one minute, I'll come for you.

Once I find you, you'll be cut into pieces.

The countdown starts."

Morris Dawan knew he was being toyed with, but in his current state, he had no ability to fight.

His first reaction was to run towards the RV camp.

The man with the machete blocked his path, "This direction won't work, I know what you're trying to do, but I don't want to alarm those people for now.

They're my prey for tomorrow or the day after, if I catch everyone at once, where's the fun in that? Can you understand that feeling?"

"You damn pervert."

Morris Dawan cursed and turned to run, but his foot was injured, and his arm kept bleeding, leaving him very weak.

He knew there was no way he could escape; he had to do something. Even if it meant dying, he wanted to make that pervert pay the price.

"9, 8, 7, 6..."

The hooded man wiped the blood off the machete with Grey Roche's clothes, "Old man, are you ready? I'm coming to find you."

The hooded man held the machete in his right hand, had a shotgun slung on his back, and a revolver strapped to his waist, carrying a flashlight, though he didn't use it.

He chased in the direction of Morris Dawan's escape. His running speed wasn't particularly fast but was very rhythmic, and his eyes constantly scanned the surroundings.

Even though his face was obscured by the hood, his body language revealed his excitement.

After running a while, the hooded man stopped, habitually swinging the machete in his right hand, "Here I come!

I can hear your rapid breathing, your racing heartbeat, I know where you are.

You cannot escape, haha..."

A short distance ahead, there were a few tall spruce trees. The hooded man vaguely saw something under the trees. Moving in closer, he found half a shoe poking out from behind the tree, a slight smile tugged at his lips.

He surveyed the surroundings, finding no other disturbances, then walked a few more steps and stopped, looking downwards to see fresh drops of blood.

He tightened his grip on the machete in his right hand, walked up to the spruce tree, and slashed down with force at the shoe, seemingly trying to sever someone's foot.

"Crack!"

The hooded man had great strength, and the machete was sharp, slicing a big opening into the shoe, but no blood gushed out as expected.

"Damn bastard!" The hooded man cursed angrily. He hurriedly stood up, quickly turning to look around.

Behind him was an empty space with no cover, and no sign of anyone.

The hooded man turned again, looking towards the spruce tree, realizing it was the only place someone could be hiding.

Just as he turned back, someone dashed out from behind the spruce tree; it was Morris Dawan with his right hand severed.

"Die!" Morris Dawan thrust a knife with his left hand at the hooded man's abdomen at an incredible speed.

"Thunk..."

Instead of feeling the blade slice into flesh, it felt like stabbing into a stone.

"Do you like my bulletproof vest? Haha." The hooded man sneered, slashing the machete towards Morris Dawan's left hand.

"Thud..."

"Ah..."

Morris Dawan's left hand was also injured, but this time it wasn't severed.

Morris Dawan let out a heart-wrenching scream as the knife slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground.

With both hands wounded, Morris Dawan was completely defenseless. Ignoring the pain coursing through his body, he hurriedly turned to flee.

The hooded man merely watched in silence, pulling the golden pocket watch from his pocket once more, "I like you.

That stab you just made me feel threatened, very thrilling; you're a good target.

I still want to play with you once more, hope you can give me another surprise.

60, 59, 58, 57, 56..."

Two minutes earlier.

Next to the lightweight motorcycle, the body of the black woman lay slumped on the ground, blood already seeping into the surrounding soil.

"Tap, tap..." A series of soft footsteps sounded, and a black-haired young man approached.

Luke had been tailing Morris Dawan, not keeping too close to avoid being noticed, utilizing binoculars from afar.

In the dim light, he nearly lost them but managed to track them down here by following footprints.

Through binoculars, he had glimpsed the confrontation between Morris Dawan and the hooded man, but Luke didn't immediately intervene, fearing the hooded man had accomplices.

In the darkened environment with poor visibility, if there really were accomplices nearby, Luke risked being caught between them, a very dangerous situation.

After observing for some time, seeing no other presence, he approached the scene.

He came upon the black woman's body, cold and lifeless, her chest slashed open with a gruesome death.

On the ground, he also noticed a severed arm, and though he hadn't seen clearly before, he could surmise that this arm belonged to Morris Dawan.

The culprit was a vicious character!

Slicing off someone's arm in one swift strike was no easy feat.