Lin Cheng's training of Wesley almost completely replicated his original training mode, that is, the training method of actual combat to learn the truth.

The intensity of the training arranged for Wesley was so intense that for the past week, Wesley had barely left a few good pieces of meat on his body, and not a day was spent not sleeping in a rehab bath.

However, on the other hand, as the son of Carlos, the strongest killer in the Assassin League, although this young man was a waste at the beginning, he had already transformed rapidly in just one week, and he could even walk a few rounds in front of Lin Cheng.

Although Lin Cheng put the water like the sea.

Whenever Wesley made some progress and began to have some pride and little emotions to grow, Lin Cheng would immediately stop releasing the water to sober up Wesley, let him understand that his current ability was not enough to fight against Cross Carlos, and continue to obediently carry out Lin Cheng's training plan.

The lies that Sloan weaved for Wesley were the only beliefs that sustained Wesley.

He was convinced that his father had been killed by the cross and that he wanted revenge.

Half a month later, when Wesley thoroughly mastered the technique of making the bullet turn, Lin Cheng made a new decision.

"We're going to change our training plan today—"

In the past half a month, Wesley has been beaten like a grandson by Lin Cheng, and he has always been obedient, and he didn't dare to stab Lin Cheng at all, even if Lin Cheng suddenly said that he wanted to change his training plan, Wesley didn't dare to say anything.

He just suspected that Lin Cheng had come up with some new way to torture him.

"You're making rapid progress and have exceeded expectations, so I've decided to give you a vacation."

As he spoke, Lin Cheng patted Wesley's shoulder and showed a bright smile.

"Huh?"

Wesley was a little dazed.

"Master, where are you taking me?"

When Lin Cheng drove Wesley to JFK International Airport, Wesley still didn't react, although the two were almost the same age, but because Lin Cheng was Chinese, Wesley had always called Lin Cheng a master.

Looking out the window at the large passenger planes taking off and landing at the airport, Wesley's face was full of confusion.

"To Europe, Italy."

"Italy?!"

"Specifically, the place of origin of the League of Assassins."

On this trip, Lin Cheng had already reported to Sloan, saying that he wanted to take Wesley to visit the origin of the Assassin League, learn from the noble spirit of his ancestors, and understand the past culture and history of the Brotherhood of the Assassin League, so as to cultivate Wesley's sense of belonging to the Assassin League.

Where did Sloan hear this kind of car talk with strong routines, and he was fooled and lame by Lin Cheng on the spot.

After all, he also hoped to cultivate Wesley's sense of belonging to the League of Assassins so that he could have a powerful killer under his complete control, so he allowed this on the spot, and even gave full reimbursement.

Since Sloan's old Wang Ba fully reimbursed the air, food, and lodging, Lin Cheng naturally wouldn't save him money, so he bought a Swiss Airlines ticket from JFK International Airport to Peretola Airport on the spot, which was still first-class.

However, he bought Wesley economy class, which was called to hone his will.

A Boeing 747 from New York to Florence, a ten-hour flight.

Lin Cheng spread out in the first class, enjoying the meticulous care of the flight attendant, the high-style European meals and wine, the unlimited sandwiches, ice cream and various snacks fed like feeding pigs.

Wesley was miserable - huddled with the economy class passengers, endured a crowded, noisy environment, sat for ten hours, and waited until the plane landed at Florence's Peretola Airport, the little brother had a haggard face, and he could no longer see his appearance.

In fact, simply sitting across the Atlantic for ten hours is not a big deal, but the passenger next to Wesley happened to be a child, and he couldn't stop talking, so that he didn't sleep at all for more than ten hours, with thick dark circles under his eyes, and he looked sleepy-eyed.

"In our line of work, there will always be times when you have to work in a complex environment, this is to train your patience, but you haven't slept for more than ten hours, not so much, and when you sleep in the hotel, I'll go out and walk around by myself."

Lin Cheng smiled and patted Wesley's back and comforted him, but Wesley always felt that his master was laughing at him.

However, it turns out that Wesley's intuition and suspicion are right, Lin Cheng is deliberately playing with him, but as long as Lin Cheng doesn't say it, what can Wesley do to him, isn't he obedient?

Florence is a city with a long history and a city full of culture and art, with church spires everywhere in the streets and alleys, and museums, galleries and art galleries just a few steps away.

Here, all the buildings are low, except for the churches, which peek out from the buildings of the city.

Unlike New York, unlike Paris, unlike those fast-paced cosmopolitans, this is a European city that can't even be seen in high-rise buildings, and is full of life and literary atmosphere.

Walking on the streets of the city, you can see people sitting by the river basking in the sun with guitars, drawing boards, or even books in their hands, and all kinds of Italian-American carts selling in the streets and alleys.

Music, art, literature, and food are the soul of the city.

The airport is on the edge of the city, Lin Cheng simply took Wesley to the center of Florence, and everything he saw along the way revealed a unique European style, which made Wesley, who grew up in New York, feel a little out of place.

"Well, do you like the city?"

Lin Cheng turned his head with a smile and looked at Wesley, who was carrying the luggage of the two of them.

"It's good."

Wesley nodded lightly and replied.

Florence, the birthplace of the League of Assassins, is also a mecca for killers.

Although the League of Assassins had left Europe and moved to the American continent over history, Florence was still their ancestral land, with properties such as the hotel where Lin Cheng and his wife stayed, or the site of a former textile factory.

Located in the heart of Florence, the hotel is tucked away in a residential building that remains the same as the surrounding buildings, with a taste of history in every brick and tile.

Because the door is facing away from the sun, there is no light, only the dim reflection of sunlight shines through the windows, illuminating the lobby of the hotel.

Beneath your feet are the vicissitudes of wooden floors that creak when you step on them, the crackling firewood in the fireplace keeps the chill of autumn winds at bay, the modular sofas around a low oak table, and a bar with black bottles of wine and a small bar serving hand-ground coffee.

Wesley, who hadn't had a good rest for more than ten hours in a row, and dragged the luggage of two people through the center of the city, had reached his limit, and as soon as he walked into the hotel lobby, he collapsed on the sofa like a dead dog.

Lin Cheng bypassed him, walked slowly to the front desk, took out a letter, and handed it to the gray-haired old man at the front desk, who seemed to be a little old, but very energetic.

"From New York?"

"Yes, sir, we are from New York."

Lin Cheng nodded, a gentle smile appearing on his face.