After a few days of recovery, Ronan's injuries healed smoothly. They no longer hindered his normal movements. Following his promotion to a Hunter, even though the Control Book of Command didn't explicitly provide information, he could sense that his physical condition had improved significantly.
Even for shallow wounds, an ordinary person wouldn't recover this quickly.
During this time, Ronan found a way, replaced an old car, and bought an AK rifle.
On the Mexican border, obtaining these things was quite straightforward with money.
With his strength, he wasn't afraid of engaging in illegal activities.
Jessica finally received a reply. Antonio Garcia was returning to Tijuana, and he had arranged to meet Jessica there.
"Dad is coming back!" Jessica exclaimed happily, resembling a teenager. "Once he's back, he'll surely be able to resolve these matters."
Ronan said, "I'll take you there."
Jessica nodded, her excitement evident. "I'll tell my dad about everything that happened. He'll want to thank you generously!"
Ronan put on a face as if demanding payment. "Can the thanks be in person?"
Jessica laughed. "Of course! You saved his most precious possession. He must thank you in person!"
Ronan replied, "Get ready, we're leaving."
Like the past few days, Jessica changed her appearance to make herself look like a different person.
As one of the Four Great Forbidden Arts, the effect was quite noticeable.
"And me," Ronan pointed at his own face.
Jessica helped Ronan with his makeup, saying, "Once these matters are resolved, I plan to head to Hollywood for my career. Will you continue to be my bodyguard?"
Ronan answered, "After meeting your father."
Jessica reassured him, "My dad respects my decisions."
Ronan refrained from saying more.
Halfway through the morning, the two of them left with their bags and got into a Dodge pickup truck, headed for Tijuana.
Tecate wasn't too far from Tijuana; it would take just half a day's travel.
As they got into the car, Ronan secured the AK and specifically asked, "There might be unexpected situations on the road. Did you bring the gun?"
Jessica patted the shoulder bag by her side. "It's in the bag, fully loaded!"
Ronan nodded and started the car.
Jessica adjusted herself to a more comfortable position in the seat. "Once this is all settled, will you teach me how to shoot?"
Ronan responded, "You're a singer."
Jessica protested, "Can't I pay for it?" She turned to look at Ronan. "I won't ask you to teach me for free."
Ronan drove on without speaking.
Jessica complained, "You really don't talk much."
Seeing Ronan's continued silence, Jessica hummed a song in English.
"A young girl with eyes as barren as a desert, yearning for the wildness and freedom of nature. The tropical breeze blows by, the sun rising high. Suddenly, a young man appears, his face handsome and innocent, as if there were no worries in the world. I'm caught in a romantic entanglement..."
"The warm wind blows over the sea's surface, where a girl deeply loves a young man, and a young man deeply loves a girl. I pray for eternal time, yet everything rushes by in haste..."
...
A middle-aged man stood beside a car, patiently observing the chaotic mess that was Cole's Supermarket after the explosion.
Balding, robust in stature, and with sharp features, the man had a natural air of toughness.
Matt Graves, his chestnut hair cut short, emerged from the supermarket. With his hands in his pockets, he briskly walked over to the bald man's side.
"How do you see it, Quich?" Matt leaned against the car door.
Quich's face was stiff. "Extremists, suicide attack. This shouldn't be happening in the U.S. The District is not pleased; they are quite dissatisfied with our work."
Facing his former partner and current superior, Matt Graves found someone to vent his frustration to. "Retaliation in the U.S. because of no ridiculous large-scale weapon warfare?"
Quich replied, "It was four black men."
Matt Graves waved his hand dismissively. "Who's behind it, is quite clear."
Quich didn't argue with him, but reminded, "We investigated. Entered through the Mexican border. Initial indications point to a connection with Antonio Garcia. Matt, the District is seriously unhappy with you. You're dealing with the Garcia Group and the Jose Group, trying to stabilize the situation in Northern Mexico, but with no results."
Matt Graves sighed. "Too many unexpected occurrences."
Quich pulled out a cigarette, tossed one to Matt Graves, lit it, and took a drag. "Four operatives, two moles, two squads of mercenaries, a lycanthrope. Heavy casualties."
Matt Graves asked, "Are they considering pulling me out?"
Quich didn't answer directly, instead asking, "Why did the situation spiral out of control?"
"Initially, everything was going as planned during the early stages. One person's appearance disrupted the entire plan." Matt Graves wasn't evading responsibility; he was stating the facts. "He destroyed tunnels, killed Ian and Eric, rescued the princess, then killed James and Lynch in pursuit. On the way to Tijuana, he massacred a rest stop, killing our two moles and the lycanthrope Alejandro, disappearing with the princess."
"Exactly how capable is this hound? I'm quite aware." Quich was rather puzzled. "This doesn't seem like someone a hound could produce."
Matt Graves said, "But he did all of that. Killed several CIA operatives! Right now, he's the biggest destabilizing factor on the U.S.-Mexico border!"
Quich looked at his subordinate. "What do you intend to do?"
Matt Graves spoke seriously, earnestly, "Rohan's actions have severely compromised U.S. national security. His actions are no different from those of a terrorist. I suggest placing him on the terrorist watchlist, launching a full-scale manhunt!"
Quich said directly, "Rohan isn't qualified."
"I lost four of my men, they were your men too!" Matt Graves stared at his superior. "Lynch, Eric, James – all had children and wives. Have you thought about how to face them? Should they have been beaten to death like trash reared by some bounty hunter?"
He couldn't help raising his voice. "When that Rohan killed them, did he ever consider they were fathers, husbands? Did he ever consider he was destroying families?"
Quich remained silent for a moment and said, "Go back and write a formal report. Follow procedure."
Matt Graves nodded. "I'll get it to you as soon as possible."
Quich asked again, "Do you need more personnel? You know, I have a formidable team of mercenaries at top level."
"I don't need it! I've aligned the curve blade!" Matt Graves looked towards the Mexican direction. "Quich, you handle the pressure from the District. I'll quickly sort out the Mexico situation."
He flicked the cigarette butt and stamped it out. "When necessary, I'll personally take action to deal with Rohan."
Quich suddenly took out his phone, glanced at it, and said, "Just received intel. Suspected associates of Antonio Garcia have disappeared from the Middle East. Informants speculate that he's likely returning to Mexico."
Matt Graves said, "I'm going back now to locate all of them!"
From the time the situation came to light until now, it was no longer just a dog-eat-dog plan. He had to kill or capture Rohan to give an explanation to his superiors and to the deceased subordinates.
...
Tijuana, situated in the northwest, adjacent to the Pacific region, boasted numerous luxurious mansions.
Many of the mansion owners weren't the ones that appeared on the surface. They were shrouded in mystery.
Within a vast estate, the mansion remained as quiet as usual. The arrival of the real owner didn't create any ripples.
Inside the villa adorned with white marble, Antonio Garcia was alone in a second-floor room, facing the mirror shirtless.
"Howl..."
A leopard the size of a domestic cat suddenly leaped onto the dressing table, baring its teeth at Antonio Garcia.
Antonio patted the leopard's head, causing it to jump to the other side.
Its body was agile, moving swiftly and soundlessly. With a few leaps, it reached the balcony, revealing its sharp fangs and claws as it tore into a large piece of raw beef on the ground.
There were peculiar wedge-shaped characters carved on Antonio's chest. The characters suddenly flickered, as if blood was flowing from them.
In the mirror, Antonio's reflection blurred, his expression manic. "Kill the invader! Kill the invader!"
Muttering a few times, he put on his clothes and summoned his confidant, "Ruben, immediately figure out a way to send others into the United States. Expand the operation!"
Ruben, a bald man in his forties who had followed Antonio for a long time, said, "Boss, doing that will invite insane retaliation!"
However, Antonio said, "Rest assured, I have an escape plan in place!"
The enigmatic figure he encountered in an ancient tomb in the Middle East had mentioned that his power's growth was directly proportional to the attacks on the United States.
The explosion in Chulavista had proven this.
"Yes, I'll get to it!" Ruben agreed and left.
Before closing the door, he couldn't help but glance at Antonio.
In the past year or so, the boss had changed a lot.
When did it start? Ruben thought for a moment, it seemed to have started after obtaining the parchment.
The boss went to North Africa and the Mesopotamian region to find the source of the parchment. After entering an ancient tomb in Iraq, he returned harboring an extreme hatred towards Americans.
In the past, he only discreetly sabotaged CIA operations.
This time, after going to the Middle East, he established connections with certain organizations, utilized Garcia Group's channels, and brought back some people...
Ruben had just finished arranging work when someone reported to him, "Miss Jessica is here."
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