Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

Just as the chief was largely unaware of the plight of the Chinese, Zhang Renfeng's understanding of the Native American community was also superficial. He only knew that they were the original inhabitants of this land, yet they had been repeatedly driven away by immigrants. Today, towns and cities are springing up like mushrooms in western America, while these poor natives have been driven to corners unseen by the public.

Everyone got used to it, as if they were born this way.

"Chief" is not a nickname; the man before him is indeed the leader of a tribe. His name is complex; in English, it means "hummingbird," a name that contrasts sharply with his burly, imposing physique.

The immigrants took everything from him: the earth, the sky, and the gentle sound of the wind rustling through the leaves. Driven like wild beasts, they migrated again and again, finally managing to set up camp and settle down near Beartooth Ridge. Not long after, state government officials came knocking, claiming the land had already been bought and no longer belonged to them.

If you want to settle here, you must pay the corresponding amount to buy the land from them.

----

"How many?"

“Heh…” A bitter smile appeared on the chief’s lips. “Twenty thousand US dollars.”

"..."

Zhang Renfeng fell silent.

Twenty thousand US dollars—what does that even mean? The Red Center gang has pulled off so many big heists, and Jimmy's side has been working on it all along, but even with all the transactions combined, it still doesn't amount to twenty thousand US dollars! Native American tribes are nomadic; for them, that's an astronomical figure, impossible for them to scrape together. It's obvious they want to drive them out and seize this land!

"You accepted it?" Zhang Renfeng found it unbelievable. "It's such an absurd deal, yet you accepted it?"

"We resisted, but the outcome was not what we hoped for. Too much bloodshed, too many sacrifices. They died singing heroic songs, like the heroes sung in ancient legends. But in the end, nothing changed. We still lost our homeland. We could only watch as they built wooden houses there, settled down, and wisps of smoke rose from their chimneys..."

The chief sighed. "I'm forty-three this year, young man. I'm past the age where I can act impulsively and disregard life and death. What I need to ensure is that the tribe continues as long as possible."

"At least, in my generation, let's not let our clan be wiped out."

Rather than die a resounding death, he chose to live a life of compromise, after all, in this land, who would care about the life or death of a few barbarians?

For some reason, Zhang Renfeng saw a bit of his senior brother's shadow in him. However, the choices he faced were more cruel and heavier than those of his senior brother.

He felt indignant on behalf of the chief, yet he also felt a sense of powerlessness, like clenching his fists but not knowing who to hit.

"So...you're here, throwing fights to make money?"

"I don't have any other skills, but I'm quite confident in my ability to take a beating," the chief chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Not to mention whether anyone would be willing to hire a foreigner, even if they were, it wouldn't be as lucrative as this."

Zhang Renfeng was speechless for a moment.

He deeply understood what the chief had said. When the wind blew sand, the stable owner was already very kind to let him live in this dilapidated little shack. Even so, he could only do jobs like collecting horse manure and brushing horses' manes, without earning a single cent.

"If that's the case, why not fight for real? I heard this boxing match is organized by Angelo, and the champion gets a thousand dollars in prize money. It's not much... but it's faster than you getting beaten up one match after another."

"Brother, I'd like to, but it's not that simple."

The chief shook his head and said with a wry smile, "This is just the introductory tournament. All the fighters are second-rate. I can still control the situation to some extent. The later the tournament goes, the fighters that will emerge will be formidable."

"I don't actually know anything about boxing. If we really fight it out later, I'm afraid I'll be exposed."

----

"Do you really have to make money within the rules?" Zhang Renfeng suddenly interrupted him, asking with a burning gaze.

"What do you mean?" The chief was taken aback by the question. Although he didn't understand yet, he instinctively realized that this was a very important question. "I have already broken..."

“No, you didn’t. You just exploited a loophole in the rules. Many people do this, so it doesn’t matter if you do it or not,” Zhang Renfeng said in a deep voice. “True ‘breaking the rules’ means breaking through all your constraints, clearing away all obstacles, and using any means necessary to get that $20,000.”

……

"NO," the chief replied solemnly.

"They're just looking for an excuse to use force to completely eliminate us," the chief said firmly. "I cannot cross the line, much less risk my life."

“…Young man, you might think that this person in front of you is cowardly to the extreme, so cowardly that he doesn’t deserve to be called a leader at all…but, there’s nothing we can do, this is how the weak survive.”

"We can only try our best to survive within their rules."

Zhang Renfeng didn't think that way; on the contrary, he respected the Native American chief in front of him.

To die generously and to live in the face of death both require immense courage. For him, Zhang Renfeng was willing to change his plans and itinerary.

“Okay, I’ll help you…win back this 1000 yuan prize fair and square.” Zhang Renfeng patted his chest, as if it were a done deal. This strong confidence made the chief feel very unbelievable. “For the next match, just listen to my guidance, and you’re guaranteed to win.”

"In return, I don't ask for money, I just want you to teach me that trick to neutralize force."

Chapter 231: I'd Rather Robbing a Bank

"Uh... hiccup!"

Once again, completely drunk, Calaway pushed open the police station door, only to be met with disdainful or disgusted looks from the crowd.

No one greeted him; it was as if he had walked in not as a living person, but as a wisp of transparent air.

Calaway knew perfectly well that he, as a "parachuted" leader handpicked by Mayor Mason, wouldn't be welcomed by anyone. People might have spent decades in the police department, on the verge of promotion, only to have you, a freak of nature, snatch the chief of police's position; it would be a miracle if anyone liked you.

Local police viewed him as a thorn in their side and repeatedly raised the issue with the mayor, demanding a replacement. However, Mayor Mason, who is usually conciliatory, acted unusually in this matter.

"Calloway is the most suitable person." — These are his exact words, word for word. At this point, the engagement was practically written all over everyone's faces; no matter how much the others disagreed, they had no choice but to accept it.

Having accepted the position, Callaway had no intention of cultivating good relationships with anyone. He focused on doing his job well, and as for the rest, he didn't care.

Of course, some people were impressed by his extraordinary personal abilities and were willing to befriend him. Callaway welcomed all such people.

“Mr. Callaway,” Taylor approached slowly, his face serious. “Someone is looking for you in your office.”

"Heh...heh heh, who is it?" Calaway chuckled sarcastically. "Which lost lady needs my help?"

"People from Angelo's side."

"..." Calaway squinted, and in front of everyone, he took out his wine jug, opened the lid, and took a big gulp. "I know, you can go back now."

"Do you need me..."

"Don't worry." He patted Taylor's shoulder twice and walked unsteadily toward his chief of police office.

----

Push door.

Guido Mattley embodied arrogance with just his posture: he sat directly in Calaway's seat, fiddling with the pen on his desk. It was as if this wasn't the San Quintak Sheriff's office, but rather a random seat in a pub.

"Crunch!" "Crunch!"

He propped his legs up on Carlowey's desk, used his pen to scrape off the dried mud from the soles of his shoes, blew on it, and smeared it all over the desk. He then looked up at Carlowey with a defiant expression.

Calaway didn't react; he simply closed the door gently.

"You reek of alcohol." Guido slowly turned around, casually crossed his legs, tossed his pen on the table, and laughed, "Can you recognize me, you old drunkard?"

“I recognize him.” Calaway wasn’t shy at all. He pulled up a chair and laughed drunkenly, “Aren’t you still that stray dog ​​next to that old Shar-Peis, baring your teeth and barking at people?”

Guido's forehead vein throbbed, and he was about to lash out when Calaway, with incredible speed, instantly drew the ornate revolver from his waist and pointed it at Guido's head.

The dark muzzle of the gun made Guido, who was standing halfway, obediently sit down again.

"What do you want? I'm warning you, I am..."

“Did I tell you that the chair you’re sitting in right now is my favorite?” Calaway looked at him with a half-smile, “Breaking into the chief of police’s office without permission. For that alone, I can shoot you dead.”

“Sheriff? What kind of sheriff are you? You’re just a murderer!” Guido gritted his teeth, seemingly certain that he wouldn’t dare to do that, and decided to stick to his guns. “I’ve killed people my whole life, and suddenly I got lucky and saved Mason Lemieux, which is how I got this position.”

"[Kid] Calaway, you're no different from those guys on the gallows!"

……

“Yes,” Calaway nodded, smiling as he said, “Then perhaps you should be a little more polite when you talk to me…”

"Click!"

Press down the hammer with your thumb.

At that moment, Guido subconsciously swallowed.

“I’ll give that old Shar-Peis some face, after all… such a nice chair, I don’t want it to be stained with your blood.”

With a flourish, he twirled the gun back into his belt, a triumphant air on his face. Then he pulled out a flask and gulped down some liquor. "And then what? What message did he send you to deliver? Just deliver it and get out of here."

Humiliated like this, Guido's face turned pale and then purple, his teeth clenched, his chest heaving several times, but in the end he chose to swallow his anger. His act of bravado was merely a facade; at heart, he was still Angelo's subordinate, and he dared not cross the line set by his boss.

It's not time to completely break ties with Calaway yet.

“We’ve located that yellow-haired foreigner and the two outsiders with him,” Guido said in a deep voice. “On that small hill outside the city of Saint Quintak, there’s a dilapidated little house. It’s the one that owed us money and was being chased for debt.”

“You owed usurious loans and didn’t pay them back, so you beat my father and son to death, leaving us a widow and orphan.” Calaway corrected him with a grin.

“Paying back debts is a matter of course,” Guido said coldly. “We are not a charity. When they borrowed this money, they should have expected what would happen if they couldn’t pay it back.”

“Yeah… unless you’re starving, you probably won’t be interested in your scams.” Calaway hiccuped, his eyes half-closed, and said drunkenly, “I’d rather rob a bank than lend money at exorbitant interest rates. Somehow, it seems more dignified.”

Realizing the difference in their verbal skills, Guido didn't try to argue back. Instead, his face darkened, and he pressed, "The person is right there. If your police station won't send anyone, we'll send our own. Everything else is negotiable, but that yellow-haired bastard who has repeatedly opposed us—Mr. Angelo gave a death order—must be taken down!"

Calaway wiped his beard, slumped back in his chair, half-leaning, and remained silent for a while before nodding. "Go back and tell that Shar-Peis that I'll do what's my job, no need for him to remind me."

Having received the assurance, Guido didn't want to stay in his office any longer and got up to leave.

"But there's something I need to make clear to you: we'll arrest those three horse merchants..."

Just as he was about to step out of the room, Callaway said slowly, "But don't touch that theater troupe."

"What?" Guido turned around, looking at him with disbelief. "A mere few barbarians, and I can't even touch them?"

“Tell that old Shar-Peis exactly what I said,” Calaway said slowly, crossing his legs. “In a few days, Mayor Mason will be hosting a large networking dinner in St. Quintak, inviting many important people to discuss important matters. Including the new mayor of the neighboring town of White Torch, Dunn Hargunda, who will also be attending.”

“There is one very important person in this group who booked the performance in advance. Therefore, everyone in that foreign troupe must appear on stage unharmed that night, understand?”

Chapter 232: The Quick-draw

"Haha! I did it! I've mastered it!"

Zhang Renfeng's excited roar came from outside, full of energy, which startled Xiaomei. Her pen slipped and she almost tore the paper.

Ever since he brought that big Indian back and started living and eating with them, everything seemed to have changed. Xiao Mei wasn't surprised by the chief's sudden arrival; the chief was very kind and extremely skilled at hunting and tracking. With him around, this mountain became a constant source of wild game. At least for the next few days, the quality of their food was quite reliable.

But what she truly couldn't understand was the daily training that Zhang Renfeng and the chieftain did every day.

To be honest, if she hadn't known about Old Zhang's amazing abilities beforehand, she probably would have thought it was some kind of bizarre ritual.

Despite not understanding it, she still enthusiastically ran out to witness this legendary moment with Trist and Theon.

"Want to do it again?" The chief twisted his right wrist a couple of times, looking extremely distressed, and complained, "An ordinary person's head is hard enough, but yours is practically made of stone. If we keep hitting you, you'll be fine, but I'm afraid I'll break my own wrist."

Knowing he was in the wrong, Zhang Renfeng smiled and scratched his head, offering no rebuttal.

During their first encounter in a foreign land, Zhu Kuilong asked him why he didn't practice the Lesser Formless Skill taught to him by his master. This was due to both psychological and environmental reasons. On a deeper psychological level, in a place where everyone carries a gun, the value of martial arts had been greatly diminished.

After all, he had fled from war, experienced various upheavals, and was separated from his hometown by oceans. His dedication to martial arts research seemed to have diminished. In this place, Qi Hardness Technique was sufficient to support his chivalrous deeds and clear thinking, so why waste time studying the Lesser Formless Technique, which he might never use in his lifetime?

Objectively speaking... there was no one to practice with him. His internal energy cultivation was already highly advanced; he felt no pain from most punches and kicks, instinctively choosing to withstand the force rather than absorb it. He wanted to practice alone, but didn't know where to begin.

At this moment, the chief appeared before us, which was like a godsend, like someone handing you a pillow when you're sleepy.

After all, there aren't many people who can be moved by a single punch.

"Oh—ah—!!"

The chief, shouting a long, drawn-out chant as he exerted his strength, once again assumed the stance of a discus thrower, lowering his body and taut his solid muscles. The next moment, like a taut spring, all his energy was released in an instant, and his fist, as powerful as a cannon, slammed hard into Zhang Renfeng's face.

However, this time, the familiar "top" did not appear. Instead, Xiaomei saw the word "lightness" in Zhang Renfeng for the first time.

Flying very lightly counts too.

He seemed to have suddenly defied gravity, launched into the air by the powerful punch, stretching his limbs out in mid-air—his arms naturally spread apart, his legs moving alternately, as if performing some kind of magic trick of walking on air. In short, despite being thrown in an arc, Zhang Renfeng was still very busy in the air, using twists and turns to completely dissipate all the force.

Like willow catkins, like a silk scarf, like a light, fluttering feather.

The two feet lightly touched the ground. The whole process was very rough, and except for the last step when he stumbled a little, it was perfect!

He lowered his head slightly, looked at his hands, felt the dissipating power flowing through his body, and revealed the joyful expression of a child who had received a new toy.

"Amazing!" Trist exclaimed, clapping her hands in surprise. "Just now, it felt like all the bones in my body disappeared."

"...It's really impressive, but I just feel..." Xiaomei couldn't help but complain.

Theon had also learned the art of conversation, getting straight to the point: "You think you can beat your senior brother with this acrobatic trick?"

"That's definitely not enough. My current energy dissipation techniques are still too superficial. I need to think about it in my mind and then put it into practice. With more practice, it should be fine."

Zhang Renfeng repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists, experiencing the process of the tendon strength rising and dissipating within his body. He exclaimed with delight, "At least, when facing his coiling silk energy, I no longer have to passively take hits. I can try to dissipate the power. This is a big step forward!"

After the initial excitement subsided, Zhang Renfeng felt a pang of regret. Ultimately, there were no true martial arts practitioners here to share with them the joy of reaching a new level in martial arts.

"I'll include it in the letter, saying that because you've been constantly beaten, your martial arts skills have improved without you even realizing it..."