Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

At the same time.

At the west end of Qingshi Town, in the back alley of the old leather goods shop.

The wind and snow had obscured the entire alley, leaving only a wooden door blackened by cooking fumes, which looked like a tightly closed dead man's mouth in the night.

Old Han dragged his limping leg and staggered to the door.

His right hand was wrapped up like a blood gourd, half of his face was scraped raw and bloody from splinters and metal pieces, and a layer of blackened blood crust covered his tattered sheepskin coat.

He raised his left hand and knocked three times on the door.

Two light.

First layer.

There was no movement from behind the door for a long time.

After a moment, a lazy voice came from inside:

"What kind of skin are you collecting?"

Han Laowai's voice was so hoarse it sounded like air leaking from a grave:

"A skin that can't stand the light of day."

The person behind the door paused.

"Alive or dead?"

Han Laowai raised his eyes, his murky pupils filled with venom:

"They'll die if they're peeled off."

The latch clicked.

The door opened a crack.

A skinny, middle-aged man poked half his face out, with an old scar across his left eye, squeezing the eye down to a slit.

He had a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth and was about to make a joke, but when he saw Han Laowai's grotesque appearance, his smile froze on his face.

"Master Han?"

Scarface Liu looked him up and down, his gaze finally settling on the right hand, which was wrapped up like a blood gourd, and he gasped.

"Yo."

"You old bastard, you spend your days skinning others in the woods, and today you've got your claws chopped off?"

Scarface Liu stepped aside to let him into the house, and glanced at the dark, snowy landscape behind him:

"Where's Da Long? He asked me to borrow two boxes of ammunition a couple of days ago, saying he was going into the mountains to pull off a big heist. Why didn't he come back with you?"

Old Han dragged his crippled leg into the house, leaned against the blackened wall, and slid down onto the broken bench like a lump of mud.

"He's dead."

Scarface Liu Gang picked up the thermos to pour water, but his hand suddenly trembled, and boiling water splashed directly onto the back of his hand, scalding it bright red.

Before he could even wipe it, his one eye suddenly widened:

"Dead?"

"How did he die?"

"His head was shattered by a beast's bullet, his brains splattered all over the snow." Han Laowai's throat made a sawing sound like a broken bellows, his left hand digging into the tattered cotton pants on his thigh.

Scarface Liu swallowed hard, his face completely changing color:

"And what about Er Kui? His apprentice is a sharpshooter you personally trained."

"He's dead too."

Old Han suddenly raised his head, his bloodied and mangled old face filled with a murderous malice:

"He was also killed by that scoundrel with a single shot."

Clang.

Scarface Liu smashed the enamel mug in his hand onto the ground, sending up a trail of white steam.

He completely dropped the playful expression on his face, pulled up a small stool, and sat upright opposite Han Laowai. His previously relaxed back hunched slightly, and his whole demeanor exuded an extreme tension, as if facing a formidable enemy.

"Who did it?"

"I don't know the details."

Old Han gritted his teeth, his face contorting violently with pain and hatred. "He's an absolute tough nut to crack. He's carrying an extremely rare repeating foreign pistol and has two fine-looking dogs with him, one blue and one black. This beast is ruthless; he'll fire with the gun barrel pressed against someone's forehead, leaving no survivors."

Han Laowai reached into his pocket with his only remaining left hand, pulled out the heavy cloth bag, and slammed it onto the table.

Splash!

Several silver dollars covered in years of black mud and a gleaming gold bar rolled out.

"You have many informants in town, and you're familiar with both the legitimate and criminal underworld."

"Go and investigate!"

"Find out this little bastard's background, I'm going to use Big Yellow Croaker to buy his life from the underworld!"

The dugout was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Scarface Liu didn't show any greed for money as usual; he didn't even glance at the glaring gold bar on the table.

He just stared blankly at the kerosene lamp on the table, remaining silent for a long time.

After a long while, Scarface Liu finally pulled out a crumpled cigarette and put it in his mouth.

"No need to check anymore."

Han Laowai's brows were tightly furrowed:

"What do you mean?"

"Two top-quality hunting dogs, one blue and one black, and an extremely rare lever-action rifle."

Scarface Liu exhaled a puff of smoke, and behind the smoke, his single eye revealed deep fear and apprehension. "I know this person."

Han Laowai's breath hitched.

"Master Han, you've really kicked a hornet's nest this time."

Scarface Liu lowered his voice, a chilling undertone in it:

His name is Zhao Shanhe.

Han Laowai's withered lips trembled slightly, clearly indicating that he had never heard of this name before.

"You've been hiding deep in the mountains, unaware of how much things have changed outside." Scarface Liu stubbed out his cigarette, which he had just taken two puffs of, on the edge of the table. "This kid isn't some wildling; he's an absolute ruthless killer."

"Last winter, a big boss from Hong Kong offered a hefty reward for the gallbladder of an iron-backed bear. The commune's armed forces department brought real weapons, a fully armed militia team, into the mountains to surround the bear, but they were almost surrounded. If Zhao Shanhe hadn't charged in alone with his dog and pulled them out, the graveyard in Laoyagou would have had more than a dozen new graves! That bear king, weighing over 600 pounds, was killed by him!"

Scarface Liu's voice grew increasingly strained as he spoke, as if just mentioning his name made his throat feel like it was filled with razor blades: "You think that's all?"

"You must have heard of Master Wang, who used to dominate the roads, right? He led all the able-bodied men in the village to block the road, and the county officials had been struggling with him for years without success. And what happened? Those blind fools ended up robbing this living devil. In the middle of the Lunar New Year, at minus thirty degrees Celsius, he stripped more than a dozen strong men naked and tied them to trees, freezing them solid!"

Han Laowai gasped in shock, and his severed hand, wrapped in tattered cloth, twitched violently.

"Let's talk about the most recent ones."

Scarface Liu swallowed hard, his eyes gleaming with a chilling coldness. "Ma Dazui from town led a dozen or so thugs from the Lai family to block his door. Zhao Shanhe didn't even blink. He charged out alone and smashed the joints of those dozen or so men inch by inch! The scene was so bloody that it turned the snow in the forest into red mud. Even the town's dogs would avoid it because of the smell!"

The dugout was deathly silent.

Even the flame of the kerosene lamp seemed to be bent over by this murderous aura.

"Master Han, the most critical thing is that he's not working alone anymore."

Scarface Liu leaned closer, staring intently at Han Laowai's pale face. "He has a bunch of reckless brothers working for him, feeding themselves! He's still the factory director of Hongxing Machinery Factory, a favorite of Director Li of the Foreign Trade Bureau, personally handpicked and appointed by him!"

Scarface Liu glanced at the gold bars on the table as if they were dead, then shrank back abruptly. "I know what you want from me, isn't it revenge? But someone like him, with powerful officials protecting him, brothers risking their lives for him, and a ruthless killer himself—a vicious man who has connections in both the legitimate and underworld circles—who in this town would dare take your job and mess with him?"