Jimmy's previous arrangements had worked, and the first to bring news was Razor. Jimmy had previously called him, and Razor had returned that call—he had news but wanted Jimmy to come find him, not at his underground casino but at a gym.

When Jimmy arrived at the gym, everything was set up by Razor. Jimmy looked at Razor, took the towel, clothes, and shoes handed over by the staff, went to the locker room to change into a new outfit, and joined Razor on the boxing ring where someone helped him put on boxing gloves.

This bastard, Jimmy cursed inwardly, evidently set him up for a surprise attack, not even allowing him time to warm up. If the clue this time wasn't clear, Razor had better be prepared for his revenge.

Since Jimmy had integrated Black Rainbow, his spiritual power had been steadily increasing. Although his physical strength hadn't increased rapidly, he had gradually managed to synchronize his movements with his mind—not enough to become superhuman, but his actions and reactions had improved significantly.

To Jimmy, Razor seemed at most a hobbyist, and his moves posed little threat. Jimmy took this as a good time to practice—previously, he had always trained alone, but now he had a living punching bag who wasn't afraid of being hit, which Jimmy welcomed eagerly.

After dodging several of Razor's straight punches and hooks, Jimmy first blocked a hit with his left glove, then struck Razor right under the armpit hitting the ribs. He didn't use full force; it was too easy to cause an accident, just enough to make it hurt.

After taking a few hits, Razor voluntarily stopped. He didn't sustain any serious injuries except for his nose, which Jimmy had punched, causing a bit of blood to flow from one nostril. As for Jimmy, he was much better off, with only his arms taking hits and blocking; his face didn't get hit at all.

With the help of someone nearby, Jimmy removed his gloves and walked over to Razor, who was being assisted in cleaning the blood from his nose.

After waiting a moment, Jimmy said, "Razor, speak, what have you found?"

Razor pushed away the person next to him, had everyone else step back, and looked at Jimmy, "I didn't expect you could fight so well."

Jimmy, "I've had training after all. Don't change the subject, what's the clue?"

Razor, "We found an eyewitness. He was sleeping on the street, heard a gunshot—it was muffled—he saw the person leaving the taxi, a white man, not overweight, about 170-175cm tall, wearing a baseball cap, black jacket, and glasses."

Jimmy, "Is there a photo or video?"

Razor, "No, only the eyewitness account. Also, Diego had been injured in a prison fight, got a license, and started driving a taxi after being released two years ago. Whose turf he was on, it's still unclear. He's dead now, so a lot of things are unclear."

Jimmy, "Where's the eyewitness?"

Razor, "Not with me, he's one of Earl's people."

Jimmy, "Take me to meet him."

Razor nodded, and the two went back to the locker room to change clothes, then left the gym heading to Manhattan. In Chinatown, led by Razor, Jimmy found a base that looked like a shelter for the homeless. After passing through a large hall, they saw a middle-aged man who looked scruffier, maybe a bit younger, but the thick beard made it difficult to guess his age.

Razor, "Earl, this is the guy looking for the old man. You guys talk." Having said this, Razor turned and left the place.

Jimmy, who hadn't dealt much with New York homeless, continued with his usual habit pulling out a cigarette pack and lighter, "Want one?"

Earl shook his head. Jimmy lit one for himself, and suddenly someone said, "That's mine. That's my lighter."

Jimmy turned to see a person in the corner; unfortunately, he had forgotten what the person who had given him the lighter looked like. Moreover, the homeless often changed their clothing styles, making it hard to distinguish. "Is it you? It seems we are quite fated." Jimmy offered a cigarette, which the man took and then retreated to his original position.

Earl turned to look at him; the man shook his head, and Earl looked back at Jimmy, saying nothing.

Unable to wait for Earl to speak, Jimmy began, "I'm looking for someone. He saw the killer of a taxi driver who was shot a few days ago."

Still no response from Earl, just a nod. Jimmy was a bit puzzled, "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. FBI Special Agent Jimmy, in charge of the recent taxi driver murder case."

Earl pointed to the ground with his finger, then turned and walked away. Quite the big shot, not saying a word. Jimmy frowned, watching Earl enter another room, gesticulating as if communicating with another person.

Jimmy looked at the man who had given him the lighter; the man shook his head and then sat in the corner, just watching Jimmy, neither speaking nor making any other movements.

What's with this eerie atmosphere? Razor that bastard wouldn't be trying to harm me, would he? Jimmy's mind raced frantically. There were only three people here, and only two others inside the room, one of whom was Earl who had just walked in; the few people around shouldn't pose too much of a problem. Jimmy subtly flexed his fingers on his right hand to relax a bit more, ready for any possible emergencies.

After a while, Earl came out from the inner room, headed towards the hall. Jimmy turned his head, watching Earl's movements over the wall, and called someone over; soon, they both returned to the room where Jimmy was.

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