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

"Bang!"

The moment the gunshot rang out, Zhao Shanhe's eyelids twitched violently, and his body dodged to the side before his consciousness could register it.

The movement was as fast as a black shadow flashing by in the wind.

The bullet whistled past his shoulder.

The next second, Liang Jiajun, who was standing half a step to his side and hadn't even had time to dodge, suddenly lost all color in his face.

He was taken aback for a moment.

Immediately afterwards, his chest jolted violently, as if a huge hammer had smashed into it.

Liang Jiajun lowered his head blankly.

On the tattered, filthy garment, a patch of dark blood was rapidly spreading across the left chest area.

He opened his mouth, let out a half-squeak of air from his throat, and then, like a rotten puppet whose bones had been removed, he fell straight backward.

The abandoned brick and tile factory fell into a deathly silence.

The next second, the camp was completely in chaos.

"Holy shit!"

"They fired!"

"Hold him down!"

Ergazi let out a howl and pounced forward, like a wolf cub unleashed, heading straight for Zhao Shanhai.

Dazhuang and Da Niu moved almost simultaneously.

Scarface's face turned blue, his scalp scalp flared, and he let out a bloodcurdling roar:

"Take the gun away from me!"

After Zhao Shanhai fired the shot, the recoil and the sound of the gunshot caused him to jam.

But he only paused for a moment.

His face was a smear of snot, tears, and dust, his eyes were completely bloodshot, and he was howling like a madman:

"Die! All of you, die!"

He pulled on his wrist, ready to pull the trigger a second time.

Dazhuang had already crashed into us from the side like a mountain of flesh.

boom!

The two men crashed heavily into the pile of broken bricks, their pistols flying out of their hands and sparking as they hit the ground.

Ergazi pounced the most fiercely, straddling Zhao Shanhai and swinging his fist, as big as a sandbag, to deliver a vicious blow to his face.

"Damn it! You actually dared to make a sound!"

Zhao Shanhai's head snapped to the side from the punch, blood spurting from his mouth, yet he continued to kick and struggle wildly, using both hands and feet like a completely crazed wild dog.

"Let me go! Zhao Shanhe! I'll kill you!"

Li Baotian rushed up and slammed his knee into his lower back.

Several people hurriedly pushed him into the brick rubble, twisting his arms behind his back and pressing his neck down tightly.

Zhao Shanhai tried to stubbornly resist, but Ergazi raised his hand and slapped him on the back of the head again.

"Behave yourself!"

Scarface rushed over, first kicking the pistol far away, then slapping Zhao Shanhai hard across the face.

"You mad dog! You want to drag me down with you, don't you?!"

The slap was extremely hard, and half of Zhao Shanhai's face swelled up instantly. His eyes, however, looked past the crowd and stared intently at Zhao Shanhe, as if he wanted to tear that piece of flesh off with his teeth.

But Zhao Shanhe didn't even look at him.

From the moment the gun went off, Zhao Shanhe had already knelt down on one knee.

Liang Jiajun collapsed to the ground, his hands and feet trembling as if in spasms. The blood on his chest was spreading wider and wider, and blood-bubbly saliva was gurgling out of his mouth.

Zhao Shanhe reached out and touched his chest; his hand was covered in a hot, sticky substance.

His eyes darkened, and he looked up to drink:

"Flashlight!"

Old Xu quickly handed over the flashlight.

When the beam of light hit him, his clothes were already soaked in blood; the wound was on the upper left side of his chest.

Liang Jiajun's lips turned purple, his eyes began to glaze over, and his fingers trembled as he tried to grab Zhao Shanhe's clothes.

"Help...help me...Director Zhao...I don't want to die..."

The sound was as soft as a whisper.

Zhao Shanhe stared at him, his face as hard as iron.

"Now you know fear?"

Tears mixed with blood streamed down Liang Jiajun's face, and all that could be heard in his throat was a hissing sound like a broken bellows.

Zhao Shanhe didn't waste any more words, turned around and roared:

"Dazhuang! Back the car up! Quickly!"

"Uncle Li, take off your cotton-padded coat and use it to press on your wound!"

Without saying a word, Li Baotian ripped off his tattered cotton-padded coat, crumpled it into a ball, and pressed it firmly against Liang Jiajun's chest.

Liang Jiajun convulsed violently in pain, unable to even utter a groan.

"Don't let him fall asleep."

Zhao Shanhe pressed down hard on the blood-sucking cotton-padded jacket with one hand, and used his other hand to slap Liang Jiajun's face twice.

"Open your eyes! Liang Jiajun, open your eyes! If you die here now, no one can save you!"

After a few slaps, Liang Jiajun's eyelids barely opened a crack, and his eyeballs rolled upwards unconsciously.

The blinding light swept over.

Dazhuang had already reversed the truck to the front, and the headlights, along with the old Shanghai lights, illuminated the blood-stained, rotten brick ground in a ghastly white light.

Scarface stood to the side, his chest heaving violently, and his calves cramping.

That shot truly shattered his courage.

Kidnapping and extortion is one thing, murder is another.

Now that his own underlings have shot and hit the most valued expert at the Red Star Machinery Factory, the matter has been completely exposed.

He glanced at Liang Jiajun, who was covered in blood, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his back was instantly soaked with cold sweat. His toes involuntarily turned backward, and only one thought remained in his mind: run.

"Factory Director Zhao..."

Scarface managed to squeeze out three words.

He hadn't finished speaking.

Zhao Shanhe suddenly stood up and rushed to him in a few steps.

Scarface felt a blood-stained shadow looming over him. Before he could react, Zhao Shanhe's large, calloused hand grabbed his collar and yanked him down hard.

Zhao Shanhe's eyes were fierce, and his knee, which made a whistling sound as it cut through the air, slammed into the scarred man's abdomen!

boom!

The knee strike was powerful and heavy, and Scarface was forced to arch his back like a shrimp, letting out a broken, dry heave.

Zhao Shanhe didn't stop at all. He pressed his left hand firmly against the man's shoulder, clenched his right fist, and aimed it at the elbow of the scarred man who was trying to escape by bracing himself on the ground.

Click!

That was the crisp sound of bones breaking.

"ah--!!"

Scarface screamed and fell to the ground covered in broken bricks, his right arm twisted at an odd angle, cold sweat instantly covering his face.

Zhao Shanhe remained expressionless and delivered a powerful kick to the man's chest, sending the burly man, who weighed over a hundred pounds, flying backward and crashing heavily against the earthen wall of the warehouse.

Scarface lay paralyzed on the broken brick ground, half of his body was useless, he was in so much pain that he was convulsing all over, and he couldn't even utter a complete sentence.

The remaining thugs turned pale when they saw their boss's arm crippled in a single move, and they turned and disappeared into the shadows of the wasteland in the distance.

"stop!"

Da Zhuang suddenly raised the muzzle of his gun, the sound like a thunderclap.

Those men were already terrified and ran even faster.

"Bang!"

A spit of fire followed by another gunshot.

The thug running in front suddenly lost his balance, screamed, and collapsed into the mud, rolling around in the pile of broken bricks while clutching his leg.

The shot didn't kill them, but it blew the souls out of the remaining few.

They all knelt down with a thud, clutching their heads tightly, shrinking their necks and not daring to move.

Da Zhuang took a step closer, gun in hand, his eyes colder than the winter night:

"Try running again! I won't shoot your legs next time!"

The place was completely ruined.

The wind blew in, carrying snowflakes, leaving only Scarface breathing softly, and Zhao Shanhai being held down tightly, whimpering like a wild dog.

Zhao Shanhe turned his head and glanced at the short gun lying in the pile of bricks, his voice as cold and hard as iron:

"Pick up the gun. Anyone who dares to look up and try to be clever, just shoot them."

"clear!"

Da Niu, Da Zhuang, and a few others grabbed their weapons and surrounded the group, herding the thugs, along with the scarred man with the broken arm, to the base of the broken wall.

The group crouched down, heads in their hands, barely daring to breathe.

Zhao Shanhe glanced around the room and directly called on someone:

"Old Xu, Jianmin, and Zhuzi, the three of you stay here. The gun is for Old Zhang, and you're responsible for keeping watch on the men. Anyone who runs away will die."

Zhang Dafa propped up the object in his arms, his face turning ashen.

"Okay. I'll keep watch here."

The jeep had already started up, and the roar of the engine echoed across the open field.

The car headlights shone in, illuminating the blood-stained, rubble-covered ground in a ghastly white light.

Zhao Shanhe stood up, glanced one last time at the few thugs huddled together at the base of the wall, and then looked at the scarred man who was clutching his broken arm and gasping for breath.

"Keep an eye on him. When I get back, I'll settle accounts one by one."

After saying that, he bent down and grabbed Liang Jiajun's blood-stained shoulder.

"Lift him up. Get him in the car. To the hospital!"