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

Just then, a series of muffled footsteps suddenly came from the courtyard.

"Crunch, crunch."

The sound of crunching snow underfoot was chaotic; each step was deep and shallow, accompanied by heavy, disordered breathing, as they stumbled and staggered towards the door of the back house.

Han Laowai's hair stood on end.

He gripped the skinning dagger tightly, the tip of the blade aimed precisely at the crack in the door, not daring to even breathe loudly.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

"Who?" Han Laowai forced out a single word through gritted teeth.

There was no answer from outside the door.

The only sound was the rustling of snowflakes being blown against the window paper by the wind.

This deathly pause made Han Laowai's heart sink to the bottom.

His only remaining left hand, from excessive strain, had knuckles that had turned a deathly bluish-white. He was prepared for either Zhao Shanhe to burst in with a knife, or for Scarface Liu to come and silence him.

boom!

The already flimsy wooden door was violently slammed open.

The wind and snow, carrying ice shards, rushed into the room and blew out the tiny kerosene lamp on the kang table.

Using the dim light of the snow outside, Han Laowai sprang up from the corner like a dying lone wolf, his left-hand dagger stabbing straight into the heart of the dark figure with a fierce force.

But the knife tip had only been extended halfway when it abruptly stopped in mid-air.

The one who crashed into the house was Scarface Liu.

The old dog was in a terrible state, its head and face covered in mud and ash, its fur coat torn to shreds, looking like a demon that had just crawled out of a grave.

But what made Han Laowai stop his knife wasn't Scarface Liu's face at all.

It was the tattered cloth bag he was clutching tightly in his arms, the one he hadn't even let go of when he was trying to escape.

The bag was torn in half during the tug-of-war, revealing several thick bundles of banknotes and two large yellow croakers underneath, emitting a dark yellow light.

The money wasn't lost! He didn't run away with the money!

The murderous intent in Han Laowai's mind was instantly dispelled by this golden light.

He instinctively pressed his wrist down, trying to hide the shovel under the covers.

But Scarface Liu's eyes are very cunning.

Although he was panting like a broken bellows, the moment he stepped into the room, his one eye was already fixed on the gleaming skinning knife in Han Laowai's left hand.

The tip of the knife was less than half a foot away from his stomach.

Scarface Liu froze, clutching the cloth bag tightly to his chest, a cold sweat instantly seeping down his spine.

If I had taken even half a step faster when I pushed the door open, my throat would probably have been ripped open by this old man by now.

The two of them stood and sat there, staring intently at each other in the dark room where the wind and snow poured in.

Neither of them spoke first.

The deathly silence in the room lasted for a good ten seconds.

The only sound was the rustling of snowflakes being blown against the door frame by the wind.

Finally, Han Laowai managed to squeeze out a dry laugh that was even more unsightly than crying from his old face, which was as bark as a withered tree.

He slowly pulled his left hand, which was holding the knife, back under the tattered quilt, and coughed as he did so: "Old Liu... how did you get covered in mud? Have Lei and his gang... made contact yet?"

This abrupt interruption was the last bit of dignity left for the unspoken understanding between the two.

"Go back to your mother's head!"

Scarface Liu's eyes twitched violently twice, then he slammed the wooden door, which had been flung open by the wind, shut it tightly and bolted it shut.

He threw the tattered bundle he was carrying onto the kang (a heated brick bed), pointed at Han Laowai's nose, and cursed, "You old bastard, if that knife had gone in half an inch further, I'd be dead right here! I risked my life to run errands for you, and you're hiding in the house plotting against me?!"

Han Laowai showed no embarrassment whatsoever.

He slowly stuffed the skinning dagger completely under the tattered quilt, a chilling smile tugging at his dry lips: "Old Liu, you're wronging me. It's windy and snowy outside, not a soul in sight. You barged in without a word; I was just afraid a thief would break in!"

"Afraid of thieves?"

Scarface Liu sneered, his one eye seeming to see right through the maggots in the rotting flesh: "I bet you're afraid I'll swallow the gold bars and turn against you, bringing people back to silence you, and then you'll take what little wealth you have at the bottom of Blind Man's Gully!"

With his thoughts exposed, Han Laowai lowered his eyelids and didn't respond.

Scarface Liu has no interest in settling old scores with this old fox now.

With death right behind them, they had no time to dwell on the grudges of this one blow.

He was panting heavily when he strode to the dilapidated wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. He yanked open the door and frantically rummaged through the contents, yelling, "Stop talking nonsense! Pack your things and run!"

"Running away?" Old Han's cloudy eyes widened, and half of his body leaned straight out of the kang (a heated brick bed). "Aren't you going to avenge Da Long?"

"What revenge is there to take! They're all fucking wiped out!" Scarface Liu suddenly turned around and slammed several pieces of clothing onto the kang (a heated brick bed).

Old Han got anxious, ignoring the pain in his hands, and gripped the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) tightly: "What do you mean by that?"

"What do you mean? I should be asking you that!" Scarface Liu's single eye gleamed with a murderous light as he pointed at Han Laowai's nose and cursed, "How did that little beast Zhao Shanhe know where you hid your gold?"

Han Laowai shuddered violently, as if he had been hit on the head with a hammer.

"What?" His voice changed, his dry lips trembling uncontrollably. "How is this possible! Even Da Long doesn't know about that place..."

"How is that possible?" Scarface Liu laughed angrily, abruptly shaking off his right arm, which had been hanging strangely at his side.

In the dim light of the snow, Han Laowai gasped.

That arm, like a withered tree branch snapped off, dangled limply in mid-air, the stark white bone piercing through the blood-stained sleeve of the cotton-padded jacket—a horrifying sight.

Before Han Laowai could recover, Scarface Liu pulled up his tattered left trouser leg.

"Then tell me, what happened to my hands and feet!"

Scarface Liu gritted his teeth, his face contorting violently with pain and extreme fear: "I went down into the mine to get the money according to the map you gave me, and I had just dug the gold out when he cornered me! That little bastard didn't listen to a word, he just grabbed my arm and crushed my kneecap with one stomp!"

He pointed at Han Laowai, his voice tinged with a desperate sob: "He knows everything! He figured out your plot to hire someone to kill me without even blinking! If it weren't for that bastard Lei Zi's plan to double-cross me, Zhao Shanhe would have already shoved a gun barrel into my mouth and shot me!"

After hearing this, Han Laowai felt as if all his marrow had been drained, and he slumped back into the corner, completely drained.

Scarface Liu tied his last few tattered cotton-padded coats and the cloth bag containing the gold bars together tightly in a knot, and hung it around his neck.

He braced himself on one leg, using his only remaining good hand to hold onto the cabinet door and straighten halfway up his body. He turned to look at Han Laowai, who was slumped in the corner: "Old Han, are you coming or not?"

Han Laowai leaned against the cold, damp wall, looking as if he had aged more than ten years in an instant.

His cloudy eyes stared blankly at the mud on the ground, his voice weak and drained of energy: "Go? Where to...?"

"Going anywhere is better than sitting here waiting to die!"

Scarface Liu spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, his single eye filled with a desperate, ruthless glint: "As long as we're alive, we can always rebuild! As long as we have these yellow croakers, we can escape to the south and live like royalty again. It's better than staying here and having that little beast crush our bones inch by inch!"

After saying that, Scarface Liu ignored Han Laowai's reaction and dragged his broken leg, limping like a big green caterpillar to the innermost side of the heated brick bed.

He used his unbroken left hand to reach for a dark brick under the kang mat, his fingers gripping the crack tightly, and then he suddenly exerted force outward.

A dull thud.

The floor tiles right next to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) suddenly sank in, and then the entire wooden board was lifted up, revealing a dark, square hole. A cold wind, mixed with a strong earthy and musty smell, rushed up from underneath.

This is a secret passage that Scarface Liu discovered by chance when he took over this leather shop. It is said that during the early years of the Manchukuo period, an old man with a beard who occupied the town secretly built this underground cat-ear tunnel with an unknown amount of manpower in order to smuggle opium and avoid being arrested by the military police.

Scarface Liu tossed the heavy cloth bag onto the edge of the hole, and then skillfully peeked half of his body inside.

He turned around, his mud-covered face showing a desperate urgency: "This tunnel leads straight to the mass grave outside town. Even if Zhao Shanhe can follow the footprints to the door, he'd never guess we'd crawled out underground. Are you coming or not? If not, I'm going to slam the roof shut!"

Han Laowai stared at the dark hole, his withered Adam's apple bobbing violently twice.

Listening to the increasingly intense white wind outside, the instinct for survival ultimately overcame the excruciating pain of the severed finger.

He clenched his teeth and used his remaining left hand to brace himself against the cold ground, crawling and tumbling toward the tunnel entrance like a dying old dog.