The discovery of Chinese kitchen knives at a smuggling dock in 2008 was not a particularly noteworthy event.
That year, the total value of knives exported from China to the U.S. was 410 million dollars, a significant portion of which were kitchen knives.
According to customs requirements, the tax rate for each kitchen knife was 8.7% + 0.42 dollars, and it required about 45 days for customs clearance.
Even calculating a smuggling fee of around ten dollars per knife, the profit from smuggling kitchen knives could be as high as around 23 dollars per knife, and this didn't even account for the time saved.
Based on this profit margin and risk level, the value of some ordinary DPs wasn't even as high as that of kitchen knives.
Unfortunately, the market for Chinese kitchen knives was still relatively narrow and had already been monopolized by various Chinese factions.
The batch of goods Mondo unexpectedly discovered were precisely the knives needed by the Chinese Triad in Hell's Kitchen, mostly bone cleavers and all-purpose knives.
They were very suitable for chopping, and as throwing objects, besides being a bit heavy, there were no other issues.
Grabbing the handle of a kitchen knife, the considerable bone cleaver appeared so small and miniature in Mondo's hand.
His wrist twitched, and after weighing it a couple of times, Mondo became excited; this thing was effective!
Mondo couldn't use conventional firearms; his fingers simply couldn't fit into the trigger guard.
Seriously, couldn't they consider Mondo when designing those weapons?
But now, there was a suitable alternative.
"A Doctor needs a scalpel!"
Mondo cheered, then plunged kitchen knives into his own body; his skin, upon contact with the blades, voluntarily split open, creating gaps just wide enough to firmly lodge the knives into his body.
The clinking sound of the knives being pulled out attracted the attention of others nearby.
A gang member was about to come over to check the situation when, as he approached, a kitchen knife immediately flew out from the darkness.
The blade struck him squarely between the eyebrows, and the tip even broke through his facial bones, embedding itself in his cranial cavity.
Thud.
The member fell, his limbs twitching slightly before he went still.
"Mondo is here!"
Mondo, as excited as a child, ran out from behind the container, pulling the kitchen knife from the corpse's forehead along the way, and charged towards the warehouse.
His appearance immediately caused a commotion; armed personnel moved, and Danny unhesitatingly retreated into the warehouse, simultaneously ordering the remaining personnel to attack.
This time, they were well-prepared, and their weapons were not just rifles.
However, when a gang member raised a Rocket launcher and aimed it at Mondo, a kitchen knife, moving faster, directly severed his exposed neck.
With throwing objects serving as ranged weapons, Mondo's combat power became even more astonishing.
Squealing and groaning, humming his self-composed 'Doctor Mondo's Song,' Mondo advanced.
Along the way, Mondo, relying on his combat instincts, ranked all individuals appearing in his sight according to their threat level.
Those with visibly large weapons needed to be dealt with first, while smaller ones, like pistols, were directly ignored by Mondo.
In the time it took to cross forty meters, three gang members were already of unknown fate, Mondo's throwing knife accuracy was extremely exaggerated, and combined with his strength, ordinary cover simply couldn't stop them.
After an initial velocity exceeding 130m/s, even a thirty-centimeter diameter log would be pierced by a throwing knife.
At this point, only an iron blast door could provide a sense of security.
Seeing Mondo like a tiger among sheep, and with most of the "heavy firepower" lost and machine guns proving ineffective, the warehouse door slammed shut with a clang.
Danny began calling for backup; he really hadn't considered Mondo appearing here, and too many guards had been drawn away, leaving them understaffed with only twenty or thirty people.
As for the workers and crew on the dock, they were already scrambling to hide, so why would they help the Irishmen who extorted every ship equally?
Thump!
The heavy iron door made a crashing sound, and dust from the rafters sprinkled everywhere.
Mondo was ramming the door.
With his muscular strength, when he charged, he was even more of a battering ram than a battering ram.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Under continuous impacts, the door became dented, the material stretched, and the impact's center already showed the shape of a shoulder.
Danny's heart was almost beating in sync with Mondo's impacts.
Finally, after more than a dozen impacts in less than thirty seconds, cracks appeared in the dent, and Mondo's ten fingers plunged into it.
Like tearing paper, he ripped the iron plate apart in both directions.
Danny pressed against the wall, his arms trembling constantly, watching helplessly as the blast door was slowly broken by a person's bare hands.
"Here is Mondo!"
After tearing a large opening, Mondo stuck out half his body, baring his teeth and shouting.
Immediately, several grenades flew beneath Mondo.
After the booming explosion, dust and debris obscured the view of the doorway.
Is he dead? Is he dead?
The sound of tearing metal rang out again.
Danny's face was ashen; Mondo was still alive and well.
"Boss, let's go out the back!"
Go? Go where?
Danny took a deep breath; with this monster targeting them, there was no hiding place in all of Hell's Kitchen.
As for leaving here, that was impossible; here he was the third-in-command of a gang, but outside, he was nothing.
"Kill him! I'll personally add another five hundred thousand!"
Danny raised his submachine gun and shouted at the trembling crowd inside the warehouse.
Using money to boost morale, inspire courage, and dispel fear was a tried-and-true, unfailingly effective method.
However, this time, Danny didn't hear many cheers.
You need to be alive to earn money, and you need to be alive to spend it.
Danny gritted his teeth; he had to set an example to salvage the already collapsed morale, so he pulled the trigger and sprayed a burst towards the doorway.
"Look! He's not invincible..."
Before the last word was out, a huge figure dropped from above his head.
With a thud, Mondo stepped on Danny, crushing his legs into a bloody pulp.
Looking down at the frantically wailing Danny, Mondo, mimicking Jack, lifted Danny by his collar.
"Five is five, ten is ten, fifty is fifty, understand?"
"Fuck, understand your mother! You damned monster!"
Danny began to curse incessantly, blood spraying all over Mondo's face.
Seeing the patient uncooperative, Mondo raised his hand and forcefully slammed Danny to the ground.
He slammed him left, then slammed him right; Danny was like a rag being slapped back and forth.
As he was being slapped, many parts of his body flew everywhere, and the other gang members in the area didn't even dare to breathe loudly.
Half a minute later, Mondo stopped; the part of Danny he was holding was no longer human-shaped, having been beaten more finely than Chaoshan beef balls.
"Five is five, ten is ten, fifty is fifty, understand?"
Mondo asked again.
This time, no one replied to him.
Mondo nodded in satisfaction, raising both hands, "Mondo has once again cured the patient!"
Having completed his self-assigned treatment task, Mondo turned and left, satisfied.
At this point, no one dared to block this blood-soaked, knife-studded purple monster.
Everyone could only watch helplessly as he left the dock area, heading off to who knows where.
