Chapter 8: Look, what is called professionalism? This is professionalism.

```

"Put the gun down...please..." The boy pleaded, trembling all over, as the man with the bloodshot eyes slowly regained normalcy, and his heavy breathing gradually evened out.

Behind him stood a stranger, whose warm hand rested on his shoulder, seemingly providing him with infinite strength.

"No." Chen Yu said with squinted eyes, holding the M29 in his hand, the dark muzzle pointed at the boy's temple.

The boy swallowed hard, feeling the cold metal of the gun pressing against his head, but why?

Why indeed?

Wasn't he the victim? Nearly shot by his own father in the dead of night, then running outside to see an innocent bystander, and after kindly warning the stranger, shouldn't the latter protect him and flee with him?

Why was the stranger's gun pointing at his head?

"Michelle?" Chen Yu casually asked, then while keeping the gun aimed at the boy's temple, he pushed the boy to move forward, and the boy could only walk back to room 404, trembling and with tears welling in his eyes.

"I...I am Lawrence Mitchell." The man replied blankly.

When Lawrence saw the other pulling out a handgun, he almost couldn't help but shoot, but then he watched this strange, skinny man point the revolver at his target's head.

In that instant, Lawrence's brain.exe stopped running.

"Mr. Lawrence, I know you, I'm asking about this guy in my arms, what's his name." Chen Yu didn't pay attention to Lawrence, his focus was solely on the boy in front of him, shaking with excitement.

The devil...

No, not the devil, but certainly a bastard from hell – that was enough. After this job, the Energy Points given would definitely be substantial.

Ever since that jerk ran out, Chen Yu had smelled a stench, a scent so incredibly faint that a normal person would think their nose was playing tricks on them. But to Chen Yu, the odor was as pungent as perfume.

This unique smell doesn't exist in the world of humans, or if it does, it wouldn't naturally occur on anyone – only in a very special chemical factory would you find such an odor.

And how could this boy have come into contact with a chemical factory? So, from the moment the other ran out, Chen Yu knew he had hit the jackpot.

"I...my name is Jamie, Jamie Mitchell..." Jamie was filled with grief and anger, still unable to understand why a stranger was holding a gun to his head.

By now, Chen Yu had also pushed Jamie back into room 404. Upon entering, a scent of gunpowder filled the air, and within it lingered a very, very faint stench, the same as that on Jamie, but too faint to be detected outside the door by Chen Yu.

"This... sir? You'd better stay away from this guy, he's not my son!" Lawrence looked at Chen Yu's revolver and tightened his grip on the shotgun, but right now, the most dangerous was his 'son'.

"Dad! You're insane!" Jamie looked at Lawrence with eyes filled with fear.

"Trust me, Mr. Lawrence, I understand the nature of these creatures far better than you do," Chen Yu ignored Lawrence. Since the man was willing to shoot in the middle of the night and chase after them, he must have harbored deep animosity towards Jamie.

```

"Lawrence..." A woman clutching her neck walked out of the room with bloodstains on both her neck and hands.

She also noticed Chen Yu, who was pointing a gun at Jamie, a flash of terror crossed her eyes, but then Lawrence came over to her side with his own gun firmly in hand, vigilantly watching Chen Yu.

The muzzle was slightly pointed towards Chen Yu.

Chen Yu lowered his head, moving closer to the trembling Jamie. His nose twitched, as a foul smell mixed with a faint scent of shower gel invaded his nostrils.

High-ranking demon? Impossible, high-ranking demons wouldn't be so weak. If one of those creatures appeared in this world, New York itself would probably face disaster.

It couldn't be a low-ranking demon either. Even they possess certain supernatural strength, capable of effortlessly throwing a person from the ground up to the fifth floor and smashing them back down, unless this one had just entered a possessed state.

Chen Yu felt somewhat disappointed.

Now there was only one possibility left.

Impostor.

A kind of scum that likes to kill their target and then take over their life. They have no extraordinary supernatural power to speak of, their only troublesome trait is their skill at disguise, even capable of replicating DNA perfectly.

However, for ordinary people, facing an impostor without adequate firepower - such as guns - could still be dangerous.

But with the support of weapons, even ordinary people could handle an impostor. Regular bullets can only kill the impostor's body though; their souls can return to hell and crawl back out, so more specialized weapons are needed.

Like the M29 he was holding.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lawrence, your son is already dead," Chen Yu sighed. At these words, Lawrence froze, and Mrs. Michelle also appeared stunned.

"What do you mean, sir..." Jamie was confused. Had the person behind him gone mad too?

Chen Yu casually picked up a newspaper nearby, and Lawrence glanced at it, recognizing the paper he had bought the day before yesterday.

Chen Yu released his grip on Jamie and raised the newspaper in one hand. Then he pulled the trigger, and the M29 roared as the .44 Magnum bullet erupted with immense destructive force, blasting Jamie's head apart.

Blood splattered onto the newspaper in Chen Yu's hand, and the headless corpse collapsed straight to the floor.

"Ahhhh!" Mrs. Michelle let out a piercing scream, then collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed and fainting. Lawrence's lips trembled, and he instinctively raised his shotgun towards Chen Yu.

"Don't get excited." Chen Yu dropped the newspaper, the bright red blood turned green, then quickly darkened, giving off a strong stench. The headless corpse, under Lawrence's horrified gaze, turned into a thick green liquid, then rapidly darkened, finally soaking into the carpet on the floor.

"Mr. Lawrence, you need a new carpet," Chen Yu said, taking a deep breath with relish, the familiar scent making him feel uneasy when he hadn't smelled it for a day.

Lawrence's mouth was agape, wanting to say something, but the shock of the scene before him left him speechless, momentarily he was struck with aphasia.