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

Hei Zi shuddered.

He looked down at the heavy bag of money in his arms, his fingers gripping the waterproof tarpaulin tightly, and the greed in his eyes grew wildly like weeds.

But when he looked up and met the monkey's man-eating eyes, a bucket of ice water was instantly poured over his head.

"I'll...I'll release it right now..."

Hei Zi stammered a reply and walked shakily to the large blue stone.

He gritted his teeth, as if cutting off a piece of his own flesh, and placed the heavy black oilcloth bundle on the cold bluestone slab.

"Clatter."

Several bundles of "Big Unity" banknotes that had fallen out of the bag landed in the muddy water and were covered in sour, foul-smelling black mud.

After handing over the money, Hei Zi didn't even dare to look back, and scrambled headfirst into the thick white fog of sweat.

The hurried wading sounds grew fainter and fainter until they were completely swallowed up by the deathly silence of the old forest.

Now, only four people with their own ulterior motives remain on the open ground, along with the deadly bag of 300,000 yuan on the bluestone slab.

"Scarface Liu".

Old Scar held the hunting rifle steadily with one hand, the muzzle pressed firmly into the monkey's flesh, and without turning his head, he whispered the order: "You go first. Back up the path, don't stop to catch your breath, and don't look back."

Scarface Liu remained silent.

Dragging his mangled, bloodied leg, he limped back into the thick fog, holding a five-shot burst in one hand. His severed leg left a long trail of blood on the foul-smelling mud, but he gritted his teeth and didn't utter a single groan.

As Scarface Liu gradually disappeared into the mist, Old Scar exhaled a breath of stale air.

"Brother Monkey, the money is on the bluestone slab, not a single coin has been touched."

Old Scar's gaze swept past Ma Hou's shoulder and landed squarely on Big Head, who was holding a homemade gun: "Big Head, step back. You take a step back, I'll take a step back. Let's finish this round safely."

Big Head swallowed hard, his face covered in cold sweat, and glanced at Ma Hou.

The monkey narrowed its eyes almost imperceptibly.

He had already calculated everything clearly: the money was securely on the bluestone slab; it couldn't be stolen. Old Scar was currently holding him down with one hand while also having to keep an eye on Big Head. If he could just stall for a few more minutes, and Old Scar withdrew his gun, he could draw his Type 54 Black Star pistol from his back waist and instantly turn the tables.

"retreat!"

Ma Hou feigned a frustrated expression, gritting his teeth, and roared, "Hold your gun steady and do as he says!"

Big Head took a deep breath of the cold air, which smelled of blood, and began to retreat into the thick fog, carrying a single-barreled homemade gun.

Old Scar pressed his thumb firmly against the hammer and slowly moved his feet backward.

Five steps.

Ten steps.

Old Scar's back was already close to the trunk of a thick red pine tree.

In the thick fog a dozen steps away, only a blurry black outline of Big Head's figure remained.

As the fog around him grew thicker, the monkey could no longer suppress the murderous intent in his eyes.

His right hand, covered in mud, had already silently reached the edge of his waistband.

Through the coarse cloth jacket, my fingertips touched the cold metal grip of the Type 54 pistol.

Holding the cold metal in his hand gave Ma Hou an unparalleled sense of security.

If Old Scar had taken just two more steps back, and the gun barrel had moved even half an inch away from his brow, he would have unhesitatingly pulled out his fully loaded Black Star and smashed that bastard's head into a bloody pulp.

Old Scar's back finally pressed against the rough bark of the red pine tree.

The distance between them has widened considerably.

With a distance of only a dozen steps and the thick fog in the woods, the accuracy and lethality of Old Scar's crudely made single-barreled homemade gun with its iron shot were greatly reduced.

But what Ma Hou was holding was a genuine Type 54 Black Star pistol, whose 7.62mm bullets could easily penetrate two layers of cotton-padded coats at this distance.

A cruel, cold smile tugged at the corner of Ma Hou's mouth.

His right hand, which had been clenched behind his back, moved like a viper spitting its tongue. He suddenly pulled out the dark Type 54 pistol, skipping even the standard aiming motion. With a flick of his wrist, he pointed the muzzle at the old scar under the tree trunk a dozen steps away, and his thumb gripped the trigger tightly.

"Go to hell!"

But Old Scar was by no means an unsuspecting sitting duck.

From the moment he turned and retreated, Old Scar's deathly gray eyes never left Ma Hou for a single second.

Although he hadn't expected that Ma Hou had a deadly Black Star pistol hidden in his waistband, his instincts from years of living on the edge gave him a beast-like intuition for any dangerous action.

At the exact 0.1 seconds that the monkey shrugged its shoulders and flipped its wrist, Old Scar not only didn't turn around and run away, but instead slammed down into the muddy ground next to it, sliding down the tree trunk.

He didn't even aim deliberately; he fired the homemade shotgun with pure instinct.

"Bang!"

"boom!"

The crisp bursts of pistol fire and the muffled roar of homemade guns exploded almost simultaneously, causing the white mist in the old forest to churn violently.

The bullet from the Type 54 pistol whistled through the air as it grazed Old Scar's side, instantly tearing away a large chunk of flesh.

Old Scar let out a muffled groan of pain and fell heavily into the mud.

The monkey on the other side was also an old ghost who had rolled around in piles of dead bodies.

The moment he pulled the trigger, he saw the flash of a homemade gun in the thick fog opposite him. Ma Hou's eyelids twitched, and his body instinctively shrank behind the large blue stone next to him.

But he was still a step too slow.

Although the homemade shotgun's lethality was greatly reduced at this distance, the large plumes of iron sand it spewed out formed a huge metal net.

Although Ma Hou narrowly avoided fatal blows to the chest and head, a dozen or so scorching iron pellets from the edge still inevitably struck his right arm.

"ah--"

The monkey let out a piercing scream, lost its balance, and crashed heavily into the muddy ditch.

His right arm felt as if countless red-hot blades had sliced ​​off a layer of flesh. The excruciating pain caused his whole body to convulse uncontrollably, and he lost his grip on the Type 54 pistol, which fell into the muddy water more than half a meter deep.

Old Scar gritted his teeth and crawled out of the muddy water, clutching his bleeding side.

This homemade gun was rendered useless after firing just one shot. Old Scar simply threw the empty gun into the mud, dragged his bleeding body, and waded through the ankle-deep, foul-smelling black mud, heading straight for the ditch next to the large blue stone.

Hearing the rapid, approaching sound of wading through the mud, the monkey lying in the mud suddenly opened its bloodshot eyes.

Despite the excruciating pain in his right arm, he sprang up from the mud pit, swung his intact left arm, and charged headlong into Old Scar's arms like a mad dog.

The impact landed squarely on Old Scar's bleeding ribs.

Old Scar let out a hoarse groan, and the two of them instantly lost their balance, tumbling into the muddy puddles behind the large blue stone.

There was no method, no technique, only the most primitive form of wild beasts biting each other.

Old Scar's left hand, which had just received the bone, gripped Ma Hou's throat like an iron clamp, while his right hand, shaped like a claw, went straight for Ma Hou's face, trying to gouge out the bastard's eyes.

Ma Hou's eyes rolled back as he was being pinched, his left hand thrashing wildly in the mud, desperately digging into the gun hole on Lao Ba's waist and pulling it out.

In the face of death, he opened his mouth, which was covered in mud and blood, and bit down hard on the old scar's outstretched right hand.

The two rows of shattered alveoli instantly closed up.

"Click."

The chilling sound of flesh and bone snapping echoed in the muddy ditch. Old Scar's right index and middle fingers had been bitten off, skin and bone, by the monkey.

Ten fingers connected to the heart.

Old Scar convulsed violently in pain, letting out a death-like scream from his throat.

He frantically pulled out his half-crippled right hand, found a fist-sized bluestone in the mud, swung it high, and smashed it wildly at the monkey's head.

Once, twice, three times.

Blood mixed with mud splattered everywhere. The monkey's head was smashed into a bloody mess, and his jaw, which had been tightly gripping the severed finger, finally loosened. He collapsed completely into the muddy water, his life hanging in the balance.

"Monkey King! I'm here!"

Suddenly, a rapid, heavy thud echoed from the depths of the thick fog.

With a fierce roar accompanied by the metallic click of a single-barreled homemade gun being reloaded, he was rushing back like a madman.

Old Scar, panting heavily, threw away the stone covered in bits of flesh and stumbled out of the mud, clutching his bleeding severed finger.

He staggered to the large blue stone, grabbed the heavy black waterproof oilcloth bag with his intact left hand, and pulled it tightly into his arms.

With one hand clutching the bloody hole in his waist and the other holding 300,000 yuan in cash, Old Scar crashed headfirst into the vast, white forest, leaving a long, shocking trail of blood on the withered branches and leaves.