Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 82 Overnight Revenge

Zhou Yi parked his car near the hotel and strolled over to the bar.

The nights in Sevastopol are still very cold.

The streetlights along the road flickered on and off, and a week later, no one had come to repair them.

It rained a couple of days ago, and now the ground is damp, with some gravel and empty bottles scattered on it.

He crossed the main street and turned into the alley on the left after passing the abandoned factory.

Unexpectedly, after walking for only a few minutes, I heard a rather loud noise coming from not far ahead.

Zhou Yi stopped and turned around, peering out from behind the corner.

The alley was pitch black, except for a wall lamp that was still lit near the garbage heap.

With that little light, he could vaguely make out a few figures.

There were four young people gathered together.

The leader was bald, with large black letters tattooed on the back of his neck. The tattoos were utterly unattractive and looked more like they had been branded with a hot iron in his own kitchen while he was drunk.

He was holding up a red spray paint can and gesturing on the wall.

"White power!" the bald man shouted in English, then added two more strokes, "WHITE-F-UCK, who can help me spell 'superiority'?"

A guy wearing a baseball cap squatted down next to him, holding another can of black spray paint, and laughed as he helped him add: "SUPR or PE? Damn, who cares."

At the very top are two lines of a declaration that have been corrected and rewritten:

"СЛАВА-БЕЛОЙ-РАСЕ"

“ЧИСТАЯ-НАЦИЯ”

Meanwhile, two other drunken youths were beating up the iron gate of an abandoned electrical box.

Each kick produced a loud "clang".

They were chugging their drinks, cursing, "Damn their bureaucracy, they've never come to fix this piece of junk."

Zhou Yi only glanced at it before laughing.

What a surprise.

I was so busy running missions that I almost forgot about these guys.

Thinking of this, he first took half a step back and looked around.

The wind blew in from both sides, making the plastic bags piled on the ground rustle.

Apart from that, there is nothing.

Because it was already night, there were no pedestrians, no windows, and no security cameras nearby.

Zhou Yi slipped his right hand inside his coat, unfastened the Makarov pistol from the horizontal button, and gently pulled the slide, sending a bullet into the chamber.

Then he stepped out of the shadows and whistled.

But the group was still shouting and venting, their emotions running high, oblivious to anything amiss, and continued with their work as if nothing had happened.

Zhou Yi sighed, took two steps forward, and called out to them, "Good evening, everyone."

This time they finally heard it.

The group paused, then turned around in unison.

The bald man was initially a little flustered, but after seeing who it was, he was stunned for a moment before revealing a mocking smile.

"Damn, guys, do you recognize him? Isn't that the Tatar bastard who couldn't afford a drink the other day?"

As he spoke, he looked Zhou Yi up and down, his tone becoming increasingly arrogant:
"Hey, what's up? Got ripped off a few times and finally saved up enough money to buy us a drink?"

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yi smiled slightly, and without further ado, raised his pistol.

"boom!"

A clear flash of light instantly pierced the darkness.

The first bullet pierced the bald man's forehead.

A small gash immediately burst open on his forehead, and blood mixed with brain tissue splattered onto the wall behind him.

His head snapped back as if he'd been punched in the chin.

Immediately afterwards, his knees buckled and he collapsed backward.

The spray paint can in his hand rolled off the ground.

"Hold--"

The man next to him stared wide-eyed, his mind clearly not yet processing the change, so much so that his first reaction wasn't to run away, but rather to reflexively raise his hand and smash the can of black spray paint hard at Zhou Yi.

Unfortunately, although the movements were fast, the accuracy was shockingly bad.

At the same time, the second bullet left the barrel, striking the area just above the brow bone. "Bang!"

There wasn't much blood, and it embedded itself at a very small angle of incidence on the lower edge of the forehead.

The man's body convulsed violently before he slammed heavily onto the stone bricks.

With a "thud," all was silent.

Just before he fell to the ground, the remaining two men gritted their teeth and pounced on him.

There's no escape; perhaps close combat is the only way to survive.

The tall man staggered ahead, grabbed a rusty stick leaning against the wall, and before he could even get a firm grip, he swung it horizontally.

The other person followed closely behind, leaning forward, attempting to get close from the side, and even prepared to pounce and draw his gun.

Zhou Yi slipped, dodged, and raised his gun in a backhand motion.

"boom!"

The gunshot was crisp, followed by a flash of light.

The bullet pierced the tall man's face.

His movements froze in mid-air, the iron rod slipped from his hand, fell with a clang, and rolled into the corner.

The body fell silently in an instant.

Fortunately, his companion's death bought the last person half a second.

He lunged forward almost reflexively, grabbing Zhou Yi's right arm tightly and trying to pry the gun barrel outwards.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he was growling something incoherently, as if he were cheering himself on.

However, this force was no match for Zhou Yi.

He swung his left arm horizontally, his elbow locking the joint on the inside of the other person's shoulder, and twisted it to use the force to sink down.

The man was immediately swayed, his center of gravity involuntarily shifting to the opposite side.

He sensed something was wrong and began to struggle instinctively, trying to fight back with his empty hands, but to no avail.

Zhou Yi twisted his wrist, lowering the gun muzzle to close to his ribs.

boom.

The gunshots at close range are short and muffled.

The bullet pierced the lower edge of the sternum, grazed the lung lobe, and tore through a large section of tissue.

The man felt as if he had been electrocuted.

His pupils dilated and his muscles tensed, but he did not collapse immediately.

Instead, he stood still due to inertia, his chest heaving violently.

He was panting heavily, his right hand still gripping Zhou Yi's clothes tightly, his knuckles pale from the force and trembling uncontrollably.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Blood oozed from the corners of his mouth and nose, dripping down, mixed with foam, and making a gurgling sound.

Zhou Yi didn't move, but just stared at him quietly.

Finally, the man could no longer hold on, and he collapsed to his knees with a thud, supporting himself with his hands on the ground, panting heavily.

Nine seconds. Ten seconds.

He tried to stand up again, but only struggled twice in vain before finally falling to his side and curling up into a ball.

"Ha ha."

Blood blisters accumulated and gushed out one after another, their color changing from dark red to black, mixed with saliva, vomit, and undigested alcohol, flowing all over the ground.

The man was still alive and conscious, but his eyes had become unfocused.

The next second, Zhou Yi raised his foot, stepped on the side of his neck, and pressed down hard.

"Click."

The alley was completely quiet.

The night wind was cold, and a few barks of dogs could be heard in the distance, but they were indistinct.

Zhou Yi raised his hand and glanced at his watch.

Nine fifty-five.

The timing is right.

That's good; it won't interfere with my work.

　I'm writing 10,000 words a day until midnight, I just can't keep up anymore.
　　
　
(End of this chapter)