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

"Zhao Shanhe! How could it be you?!"

The shout echoed through the empty scrap yard.

Zhao Shanhe did not answer.

He walked step by step, stepping over the piles of yellow bullet casings, until he reached Scarface Liu.

The soles of the shoes ground over the cartridge cases, producing a sharp, metallic sound.

Scarface Liu pressed himself tightly against the iron pillar behind him, his throat full of blood and froth, his one remaining open eye staring unblinkingly at him.

He thought the person coming would be Old Scar.

They also considered the possibility of Wang Biao's men returning to finish him off.

They even considered that it might be a stray dog ​​sent by Chen Jianguo.

But he never expected that the one who would emerge from the darkness in the end would be Zhao Shanhe.

Zhao Shanhe stopped three steps away from him.

Moonlight fell on his shoulder, where he held the Type 56 semi-automatic rifle with one hand, the muzzle lowered, and a trace of lingering heat still remaining on the barrel.

He glanced down at Scarface Liu.

There was no small talk.

There was no mockery.

There wasn't a single unnecessary word.

"Where's the old scar?"

Scarface Liu froze on the spot, as if he hadn't heard clearly, or as if he had heard clearly but couldn't believe his ears.

After a long, deathly silence, he suddenly ripped his blood-stained face and let out a strange, grating laugh, like a bellows whirring.

He laughed so hard that his broken ribs twitched, and murky black blood kept splattering down his chin.

"Old scar? Cough... Hahahaha..."

Scratched blood as he stared intently at the man before him, "You fucking... you're here to see Old Scar too?"

Zhao Shanhe's eyelids twitched slightly.

He didn't rush to attack; he simply held the Type 56 rifle in one hand and casually pressed the slightly warm butt against the frozen mud.

"I need to talk to him about something."

Upon receiving this definitive answer, Scarface Liu revealed a sinister smile.

"Wang Biao is looking for him."

"The monkey is looking for him."

"Chen Jianguo also looked for him."

Scarface Liu grinned, revealing a mouthful of bloody teeth, his voice hoarse like a rusty razor blade scraping against sheet metal: "Now even you, Zhao Shanhe, are coming after him like a mad dog!"

"What? Did that old bastard steal the Heavenly King's jade seal, or does he somehow lay golden eggs?"

"Why is it that everyone, from the underworld to the police, both legitimate and illegitimate, is looking for him now, and even you, you bastard, have come here to join the fun?"

Faced with these insults, Zhao Shanhe didn't even lift an eyelid.

He simply stood there quietly, looking at Scarface Liu with a calm expression, and said in a flat tone, "This has nothing to do with you. You just need to tell me where Old Scar is."

"Pooh!"

Scarface Liu suddenly leaned forward and spat a mouthful of thick phlegm mixed with blood onto the edge of Zhao Shanhe's leather boot.

The blood-stained face instantly contorted into an extreme contortion.

He was like a cornered wolf, staring intently at the man before him, his voice hoarse and filled with rage as he yelled, "Why should I tell you?! Zhao Shanhe, I'm asking you, are you my father, or my son?"

"So, a son asks his father for things, and the father has to obediently hand them over without giving anything in return, right? What, did you come here today specifically to play the dutiful son to me?"

Faced with this blatant insult, Zhao Shanhe didn't even flinch.

The night wind blew through the rusty iron sheets, making a muffled whistling sound.

After a long pause, Zhao Shanhe finally moved his lips slightly and calmly uttered a few words: "Your injuries are severe. If you don't get stitches, you'll die soon!"

"What's it to you!"

Scarface Liu's eye bulged, and he went berserk, slamming the back of his head against the iron pillar behind him with a dull thud: "Zhao Shanhe! Didn't you hear me asking you a question? Do you want to be my son or not?"

Zhao Shanhe ignored his insults.

He simply lowered his gaze slightly, his eyes sweeping over all the wounds on Scarface Liu's body with an extremely professional look.

"The left shoulder was pierced by a Type 56 bullet, with a small entry and a large exit. The collarbone was completely shredded by the tumbling bullet."

"You have at least three broken ribs on your right side, and the broken pieces are sticking inwards. They've probably punctured your lung, which is why you're vomiting blood and foam even when you're breathing."

His gaze slowly moved downwards, finally settling on the horrifying blood hole that was constantly oozing black blood.

"But the most fatal thing is this bullet wound in your thigh."

Zhao Shanhe tapped Scarface Liu's severed leg with his chin: "Although the bullet didn't sever the main artery, it definitely severed the thickest vein. Your limbs should be starting to feel numb and cold, and your vision should be blurring. At this rate of bleeding, you probably have at most ten minutes left before you become a dried-up corpse."

With a slight rustling sound of fabric, he slowly pulled a small gray-green canvas bag with Russian writing printed on it from the inside pocket of his coat.

"This is a first-aid kit used by the Soviet Union on the front lines."

Zhao Shanhe used his large, rough fingers to loosen the clasp with one hand, casually opening the bag to reveal the contents: "Inside, there's a handful of hemostatic powder that can forcefully burn rotten flesh to solidify when sprinkled on top, a vial of emergency water that can keep the heart from shutting down, and a pack of sheep intestine sutures with a thick, hooked needle."

He leaned forward slightly, and an extremely oppressive shadow instantly enveloped Scarface Liu's pale and distorted face.

"If we apply the medicine now, sew the flesh shut with a needle, and then inject this tube of fluid into you, maybe you can save your life."

Zhao Shanhe's cold eyes stared intently into the depths of Scarface Liu's pupils, his tone remaining calm and undisturbed: "The faster you finish this job, the greater your chances of survival."

He paused, then gently tapped the butt of his Type 56 rifle on the frozen mud, producing a dull thud.

"Now, tell me, where is Old Scar?"

A deathly silence fell over the scrap yard.

Only the black blood dripping from Scarface Liu's thigh made a faint dripping sound as it hit the muddy water.

Scarface Liu stared intently at the gray-green first-aid kit in Zhao Shanhe's hand, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with difficulty.

A full half minute passed.

He slowly raised his eyelids, and his cloudy single eye, through his disheveled blood-red hair, stared straight at Zhao Shanhe's gaze.

"Zhao Shanhe..."

Scarface Liu's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against each other: "What exactly do you want with Old Scar?"

Zhao Shanhe fiddled with the bag of hooked sheep intestine sutures in his hand, not even glancing at him.

"I already said, this has nothing to do with you."

Upon hearing this flat reply, Scarface Liu's facial muscles twitched strangely twice.

"Heh...hehe..."

A cold, whistling laugh, barely audible, escaped from between his bleeding teeth.

Scarface Liu leaned back abruptly, his head slamming heavily against the rusty iron pillar.

He completely ignored the death warrant that was right in front of him, and like an old gambler who had seen through all the cards, he stared intently into Zhao Shanhe's eyes.

"You need him, right?"

He was panting heavily, sniffing the air like a wild dog, his nose twitching.

"I can smell it."

A twisted fanaticism erupted from Scarface Liu's turbid eyes, and he grinned grotesquely at his bloodied and mangled mouth: "Amidst all this brain matter and the stench of blood, I smell a foul odor."

His withered chest heaved violently as he raised his mud- and blood-stained hand and pointed it directly at Zhao Shanhe's nose.

"That's the stench of your desperation, Zhao Shanhe, driving you to murder and madness! You need that old bastard more than any of the dead men in this junkyard! Am I right?!"

Zhao Shanhe did not refute.

He simply watched calmly as the pool of blood at Scarface Liu's feet grew larger and larger.

Thick, dark blood trickled down the cracks in the frozen soil, slowly flowing towards the edge of Zhao Shanhe's leather boots, emitting a strong, fishy odor.

"Are you sure you want to waste your time talking nonsense?"

Zhao Shanhe's voice remained completely flat.

He slowly squatted down, his gaze level with Scarface Liu's single, bloodshot eye.

"The ten minutes I mentioned is the time it takes for you to bleed completely dry. If you get stitches done sooner, you might still be able to save your life."

Zhao Shanhe, with his gloved fingers, poked without hesitation the edge of Scarface Liu's thigh wound, where the skin was beginning to turn white and black.

"But the longer it drags on, the more thoroughly the nerves in your thigh will die."

"Even if the King of Hell doesn't take you then, this leg will still be a piece of rotten flesh hanging on your body. For the rest of your life, you won't even be able to stand up to poop or pee. You'll just be like a numb maggot, crawling out of the mud with your two hands."

Only the faint sound of blood dripping remained in the scrap yard.

Scarface Liu stared intently at the first-aid kit in Zhao Shanhe's hand, then slowly raised his eyelids to meet Zhao Shanhe's calm, expressionless eyes.

I stared at it for a good three or four seconds.

Suddenly, the muscles on Scarface Liu's face twitched strangely twice.

His single eye did not reveal the fear of being dominated by death and disability; instead, it showed an arrogance and pleasure in completely seeing through the opponent's cards.

"Ha ha ha ha……"

Scarface Liu suddenly leaned back, his head slamming against the rusty iron pillar with a loud thud.

He laughed so hard that tears and blood splattered out of his mouth, staring intently at the high and mighty Zhao Shanhe as if he were watching a clown.

"As expected... cough... Zhao Shanhe, you fucking panicked!"

He was panting heavily, his breath reeking of blood, as he desperately slapped his bleeding thigh with his mud- and blood-covered hand, producing a dull thud of flesh-on-flesh.

"I was absolutely right!"

A twisted fanaticism erupted from Scarface Liu's cloudy eyes.

He didn't care at all about the black blood gushing from his crippled leg. Trembling, he raised his mud-covered hand and pointed it directly at Zhao Shanhe's face, hysterically roaring, "You bastard, now you need that old bastard's whereabouts more than anyone else! You arrogant living devil, I've finally found your weakness!"

Extreme excitement caused his withered chest to heave violently, and he gasped for breath, like a mad dog that had finally bitten its prey's weak spot.

"You want to know, huh? Dream on!"

Scarface Liu clenched his blood-stained, broken teeth, his face contorted in extreme pleasure: "I don't care about anything anymore! So what if it's rotten flesh? So what if it's maggots! If anyone else had asked me today, I might have chickened out and given in for the sake of my life!"

"But you, Zhao Shanhe, you beast, are an exception! Even if I bleed every last drop from my body today, even if I die in this muddy ground and get devoured by wild dogs, I won't tell you a single thing!"