Dark Light Chaser.

Chapter 130 Friendly Conversation

The sound of footsteps came from the stairwell, making the boss, who was busy counting money, frown.

Upon seeing the messenger, he put down the banknotes he had only counted halfway through.

He picked up a machete and shouted, "Are you asking for trouble?!"

As he spoke, he walked toward the stairwell, intending to teach the messenger a lesson.

But after taking only a couple of steps, the boss spotted the dark, silenced pistol in the messenger's hand, and his pupils immediately contracted.

You're going to kill me to cover up my 20,000 yuan debt? Who's the cop and who's the gangster between us?

Although he was a nobody who gained his foothold by joining powerful factions, he still dared to open a tattoo shop in the outer city of Jiuhua, which shows he had some guts.

Upon seeing the pistol in the messenger's hand, the boss was not frightened enough to drop his machete and raise his hands in salute.

Instead, he grabbed a glass from the table and smashed it in the messenger's face.

While trying to distract him with a glass, the boss himself charged forward with a cleaver, his face contorted in a menacing expression.

As the saying goes, a gun is faster than a gun from seven paces away.

Within seven steps, the gun was fast and accurate.

You say the knife is fast?
Anyone who discusses which is faster without considering individual reaction speed is simply being dishonest.

The messenger fired two shots, one shattering the glass and the other hitting the boss in the thigh.

The boss stumbled and fell to the ground in front of the messenger, clutching his leg and letting out a piercing scream.

The messenger used rubber bullets, but don't assume that rubber bullets are invincible. At such close range, if they hit someone in the head, it's no different from a lead bullet—they'd both be dead.

If a normal bullet hits a non-lethal area, after a period of rest, it will at most leave a bullet hole, which will not affect future activities much.

If a rubber bullet hits you at close range, it can leave semi-permanent damage, such as a large bruise.

Even if the boss's leg isn't broken after that shot, he'll be bedridden for more than two months.

The messenger ignored the boss who was lying on the ground screaming in pain. He first threw the machete into a corner of the basement, then went to the sofa and tidied up the banknotes.

Jin Ping'an, who was originally guarding the stairwell, rushed down after hearing the screams from the basement.

While tying up the boss with a rope he found in the cabinet, the messenger asked, "Why didn't you block the door? What are you doing down here?"

Jin Ping'an chuckled sheepishly, "I only came down to check because I heard screams..."

Bang bang bang!
"Boss? I think I just heard someone shouting, are you alright?"

A faint shout came from the stairwell.

The messenger picked up a gun, pointed it at the boss's head, and gave him a look that said, "You know what to say."

However, the pain did not frighten him; instead, it fueled his ferocity.

The boss glared fiercely at the messenger, his teeth grinding together.

Upon seeing this, the messenger released the safety of his pistol, turned the muzzle around, and pointed it at another head below him.

"It's alright! Go about your business!"

The boss yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice trembling slightly from the pain in his thigh.

"What do you say?"

The basement is very well soundproofed. Even if someone shouts loudly upstairs, the sound reaching downstairs is only about the level of whispering in class; you can't hear it at all unless you listen carefully.

"It's nothing! Go about your business!"

The boss repeated what he had said.

After he said that, there was no more sound from above.

The boss, bound to a chair, forced himself to endure the pain and asked, "Who exactly are you?"

“A legally armed bounty hunter, you can call me Messenger.”

The messenger put away his pistol and picked up the spent cartridge case that had fallen to the ground.

"messenger?"

The boss was in so much pain that his face was almost contorted, but he still gritted his teeth and tried hard to find the relevant memories.

But I never imagined that this person would appear in Qianhua City.

“I’m from Nevada.”

The messenger seemed to have figured out what he was thinking and offered an explanation, which, of course, also carried a threatening tone.

Sure enough, the boss looked horrified when he heard the words "Nevada".

No bounty hunter with a gun license is easy.

Furthermore, in Nevada, to obtain a gun license, one must assist the police in apprehending at least thirty heinous criminals and make outstanding contributions during the operation.

This is just one of the conditions that Nevada City has publicly stated.

As a world-renowned crime capital.

It's easy to imagine the level of those real big shots who are buried in graves if a small group of criminals who fled from Nevada to Qianhua City could create an outer city of Jiuhua.

In comparison, the gun-wielding bounty hunters who oppose those real big shots are even less likely to be simple characters.

Guns have no eyes. A person who can capture thirty criminals unscathed in Nevada every day during gun battles can truly be called a living god of war.

Therefore, none of the armed bounty hunters in Nevada are good people.

Especially messengers, bounty hunters who aren't missing any limbs, are the most ruthless of the ruthless.

The messenger placed the sketch in the boss's face and asked, "I'll give you one more chance. Have you seen this person before?"

"I've seen him! I've seen him! He got a tattoo at my shop!"

The boss quickly replied.

The messenger nodded slightly, then grasped his left little finger with his hand.

A chill ran down the boss's spine.

"Do you know him?" the messenger asked casually.

"I don't know him... Ah! Ah! Ah!"

With a snap, the messenger broke off the boss's little finger.

"I really don't know him!"

The boss was in so much pain that tears streamed down his face. It wasn't that he was a coward; it was just a natural human reaction.

"Next question, tell me anything you know about him until I'm satisfied."

The messenger maintained his indifferent expression, loosened his little finger, and grasped his boss's ring finger again.

"Two months ago, Brother Huo brought me here to get a tattoo. He's the one who got me to get a ghost face moth tattooed on my arm!"

The boss, afraid that if he spoke too slowly the messenger would break his ring finger again, spoke rapidly: "I don't know him, but Brother Huo definitely does! Brother Huo brought him here!"

After saying this, he looked at the messenger with pleading eyes.

The messenger nodded and hummed in agreement, then casually snapped off his ring finger.

“Aaaaaaaah!!!”

The boss gritted his teeth and forced back his scream.

Jin Ping'an, who was watching from the sidelines, subconsciously took a half step back.

He had seen many gruesome corpses with the police, and cracking fingers was nothing compared to the messenger's calm face, which was the source of his fear.

Even though Jin Ping'an knew that the boss was not a good person, he still felt a little scared when he looked at the messenger.

The most terrifying people are those who inflict torture on others as routinely as eating and drinking.

Jin Ping'an then realized that the messenger might not be quite what he had imagined.

He always regarded the messenger as a martyr who would stop at nothing to uncover the truth, and as a companion to whom he could entrust his affairs after his death.

Now, he finally remembered something.

That is, besides being his companion, the messenger is also a bounty hunter.

A bounty hunter with a gun license in Nevada.

He may not be as kind as he imagines himself to be.

(End of this chapter)