Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

Numerous ill-intentioned gazes drifted over from all corners, mainly landing on Xiaomei—although there were brothels here, none were as beautiful and delicate as her. Their eyes roamed over her unabashedly; some whistled, while others sucked their tongues at her, deliberately making lewd noises.

Zhang Renfeng's appearance relieved Mike and Xiao Mei, but it also made their group seem even stranger.

"Done?"

"It's settled. There's a girl who lives alone, about the same age as Xiaomei, and she agreed to let us move in and stay with her for a few days." Zhang Renfeng's hands were busy tapping lightly on the wooden table. "How's it going? Is everything alright?"

“You’ll see when you get here.” Mike shrugged, somewhat helplessly. “If I leave for a while, these guys will tear this little girl apart. So I’m not taking any action for now, I’ll wait until you get here.”

“Alright.” Zhang Renfeng looked around. At a card table not far away, a man with a dejected expression folded his cards and walked away, muttering, “The plan has changed. Remember to cover me later.”

Zhang Renfeng picked up the glass in front of Mike, drank it all in one gulp, wiped his mouth, stood up again, and slowly walked towards the empty seat.

----

"Hey, Amigo—!" Zhang Renfeng sat down without thinking, clapped his hands, and greeted her in an exaggerated tone, "You don't mind if I sit for a while, do you?"

No one laughed, nor did anyone show him any friendliness; everyone stared intently at this outsider's face. In such a secluded little mountain village, outsiders often meant the arrival of change.

Nobody likes uncertainty, not even outlaws.

Sitting opposite him, a man in a red vest with a mustache had a gloomy face. He tapped the table and said in a deep voice, "Sitting down means you have to play cards."

The man in front of me still had five cards on the table, and interestingly, he had the fewest chips of the four players. It seemed that Lady Luck wasn't on his side. Perhaps leaving before losing even more was the wisest choice.

He flipped over the cards: J88AA. Zhang Renfeng's expression froze on his face.

He now understood why that guy had fled in panic even though he still had chips left and a chance to turn things around.

However, his astonishment lasted only a moment, and he quickly regained his playful demeanor. "I'm afraid not, sir. This hand of cards is really not worth playing."

The man in the red vest leaned slightly forward, staring down at him with a condescending gaze, and repeated, word by word, "If you've seen the cards, you have to play them. Have I made myself clear?"

"What if I refuse?" Zhang Renfeng asked with a smile.

The man in the red vest pulled a revolver from the edge of his boot and pointed it at his chest.

“That’s against the rules, sir.” Zhang Renfeng pointed to the gatekeeper at the door. “Everyone has to leave their weapons there when they come in, and everyone has followed that rule. You should leave your weapons there too.”

"..." The man in the red vest tilted his head deliberately, as if to mock him, and gave a disdainful sneer. He then pressed the hammer of the single-action revolver and repeated what he had just said, "What if I refuse?"

……

From the moment he drew his gun, the entire tavern fell silent. Such a commotion was enough to quiet down the ruthless and belligerent members of the Thunder Gang. They stared intently at the red-vested man, anticipating a bloody spectacle.

Only Mike secretly held a bottle in his hand.

Zhang Renfeng smiled and nodded at him, then gently applied pressure to the edge of the card with his fingers, deforming it. In the instant he lowered his head, his thumb and middle finger suddenly bent, flicking the card away!

The edge of the card was so sharp that, if struck quickly enough, it could even cut through skin. When it hit those wide-open eyes meant to intimidate the enemy, the shattering sound was like stepping on a pane of glass.

"Ahhhhh!!! My eyes, my eyes!"

When attacked in the eyes, everyone's first reaction is to close their eyes, which gives Zhang Renfeng time to overturn the table.

He overturned the round table to shield himself from the bullets, but it turned out he had overestimated his opponent. He didn't even have the willpower to finish the shot; he just covered his eyes and screamed in terror. Zhang Renfeng took a stance and punched through the wooden table, his fist emerging from the splinters and striking him squarely in the chest.

laugh--! !

A lump bulged in his back, and he instantly leaned backward, falling to the ground with a couple of groans. The revolver slipped from his hand. His limbs twitched a couple of times, then he stopped moving.

……

"Bombo!" After a few seconds of silence, someone shouted, breaking the stillness, "He killed Bombo!"

"Slaughter them—!!"

……

Birds of a feather flock together.

Those who can drink here are dangerous individuals who have gone through layers of screening and cannot integrate into society. They are irritable, easily angered, impulsive, and treat murder as a game.

However, any place can become a small society once enough people gather. Just like now, they had become accustomed to the "rules" of this place, and not a single person reached for a gun; instead, they swarmed forward and charged towards Zhang Renfeng.

For a moment, he felt like he was back home, back on that little arena.

"what……"

"Hahahaha! Ah—hahahaha—!!"

Unable to contain himself, he burst into laughter and walked toward the surging crowd.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Red Center, Full Power Unleashed!

The rapid clatter of hooves echoed on the muddy road as one group rode horses while another hurried towards the village on foot. Scarred Village was a hunter's outpost, not very large. Apart from Tuku Zolael and the gang leader "Sol," everyone was crammed into a wooden house erected on a single street.

Whether you ride a horse or walk, there's really not much difference.

A hole had been punched through the tavern's roof, and a person was hanging from it, looking out of place like an extra branch in a potted plant. Looking closer, several large holes had also been punched through the wall, and their own men were hanging inside, seemingly unconscious. Several of their underlings lay sprawled in the mud at the tavern entrance, unconscious.

"Phew... Can someone tell me if I'm dreaming? Huh?!"

The gallery even forgot to tie up the horse, and was furious.

It seems everything started going wrong this morning—the five patrolling men still haven't been found. The Gray Wolf Mountains are simply too vast and too deep; the Thunder Fury Gang's territory is only a small part of it. If the bodies were indeed dumped deeper into the mountains, the current manpower wouldn't be enough to keep the search going.

He didn't like this feeling, as if something was slipping out of his control and slipping away from his grasp.

Having finally endured the day, he was about to relax and shave in the evening when, halfway through, with shaving foam all over his face, he received a distress call from his underling. Without even wiping his face, he mounted his horse and galloped away, only to find this scene before him at the tavern.

He kicked him several times, but couldn't wake up the underlings who were lying on the ground. When he checked their breathing, they were still alive.

"boom--!!"

Without a word, after standing up, Tuku punched the henchman next to him. The force was so strong that it sent him sprawling into the mud. Before he could react, Tuku picked him up and carried him to him like a chick.

Looking into those wide-open eyes, the younger brother turned pale with fright.

He was punched for no reason, and blood was drawn from the corner of his mouth, but he felt no anger, only fear.

"Does it hurt?" Tuku asked seriously.

“…Wh…what?” His lips trembled, unsure of what the library was up to.

"Does it hurt? Yes or no?! Why do you have to think about such a simple question for so long!?"

Startled, he nodded instinctively, then felt his answer wasn't "perfect" enough, his legs trembling even more violently, unsure of what awaited him. Unpredictable people are not uncommon in the West, but someone like Tuku, laughing heartily one second and smashing someone's head in an ashtray the next... is truly rare.

He seems particularly keen on this method of building his military power, and in turn, his authority.

Fortunately, at this moment, Tuku had no interest in such things and simply tossed him aside impatiently. The younger brother fell heavily onto the muddy ground, his tailbone throbbing with pain, but he felt a sense of relief—he had just escaped death's clutches.

"It hurts, which means I'm not dreaming. Damn it..." The anger in his heart burned brighter and brighter. Tuku pulled a long-barreled shotgun from his saddlebag. The crisp sound of it being cocked mingled with his curses. "I want to see which blind fool dares to come and cause trouble here! All of you, come at me!"

He strode forward and kicked the door open!

Boom!

The overwhelming power of the view inside the door even made him briefly forget his anger.

----

He was used to the smell of blood, so it didn't bother him. But this time... he didn't smell gunpowder.

Smoke and dust billowed.

The floor was covered in alcohol, blood, and broken teeth.

People were practically just decorations, lying haphazardly everywhere, some already unconscious, while most were groaning and moaning.

Upon closer inspection, many people had dislocated joints. While not fatal, the pain was enough to break down a person's fighting ability. On the floor, stairs, dining table, bar counter—wherever the eye could see, there were signs of a struggle.

These fist marks, claw marks, and splinters of wood stuck in people's bodies forced him to come to a somewhat horrifying conclusion.

----

Directly opposite the door, the man with clearly foreign features moved a chair and sat there calmly, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

His expression was calm, but when Tuku saw the thick calluses on his fists and the blood covering his finger bones, he understood everything.

Another white man, around fifty years old, stood behind him. He was bald and had round ears like his own. He stared with dead fish eyes, his face expressionless, as if he was already used to this kind of scene.

His hands gripped a carbine rifle, steady and powerful. His expression, one of unwavering resolve, left Tuku with no doubt that if he raised his shotgun, Tuku would be blown to the bone in the next instant.

If it were just the two of them, Tuku might have thought they'd run into some tough opponents. What happened next was predictable: a thrilling gunfight was inevitable.

However, the pretty little girl standing to the right of the foreigner... puzzled him.

Although she had concealed it very well, Tuku was used to the smell of fear, and even the best disguise would be betrayed by physiological reactions. Her slightly trembling pupils told Tuku that she wasn't as calm as she appeared—this was the normal human reaction.

That being said, in actual negotiations, these "normal" people are more worrisome: they might react unexpectedly due to stress. For example, this young girl, with her right hand tightly pressed against the revolver, it's hard to say whether she might pull out a gun out of fear and fire it at herself in the next second.

……

“First of all, I apologize for our rudeness, Mr. Tuku Zolael.” Although Zhang Renfeng said this, he made no attempt to stand up from his chair, but simply smiled. “After discussing with my partners, we agreed that meeting you here is the fastest and most efficient way.”

Tuku's eyes twitched, his lips twitched a few times, and he clenched his fists so tightly they cracked.

But, unexpectedly, he didn't immediately lash out. Instead, he turned around and moved a chair over as well.

"Creak—creak—!!"

He slowly dragged the stool leg across the ground, deliberately making a harsh and unpleasant noise, until he was almost face-to-face with Zhang Renfeng, close enough that they could spit on each other's faces.

As he sat down, the dark muzzle of the gun rose half an inch and pressed against Zhang Renfeng's abdomen.

Mei looked worried, but Mike was faster. He raised his hand and aimed his reliable Sharps carbine at Tuku's head.

This action was practically a declaration of war, and the henchmen behind him drew their guns and aimed them at the three people in the room.

Both sides were stretched to their limits.

This place, which should have been a place of relaxation, is about to become a harvest farm for death.

“Then, please give me an explanation.” Tuku repeated Zhang Renfeng’s flowery words with a slightly sarcastic tone, but immediately revealed his true colors again, “Who the hell are you?! How dare you cause trouble on my turf?”

……

Zhang Renfeng was secretly delighted.

If he's willing to ask, then there's basically a 60% chance that it's true.

“Strictly speaking, we are businessmen,” he replied seriously. “We’re here, of course, to discuss a business deal with you.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven: He's Become a Cuckoo's Clam

"what……"

“Hahahahahahaha——!!”

Upon hearing this, Tuku suddenly burst into laughter, as if showing off his teeth, grinning widely and laughing heartily. While laughing, he glanced back at his underlings. Seeing their boss laughing so mischievously, everyone naturally joined in the laughter.

The cheerful atmosphere filled the tavern, creating a stark contrast with the blood, broken bones, and teeth smeared on the floor.

"So, a yellow-skinned foreigner, an old man who doesn't have many years left to live, and a little girl, the three of them came to my gang, my territory, and beat up my men... just to talk business with me?" Tuku was laughing so hard he could barely breathe when his expression suddenly changed. He jumped up, threw his chair aside, and shouted angrily, "What's wrong with your brains?!"

However, the results were minimal.

Xiaomei's shoulders trembled, revealing her genuine fear.

The remaining two seemed to have never felt any pressure since birth, remaining unchanged. Zhang Renfeng was still smiling, while Mike stared with dead fish eyes, as if he were a monkey trying to imitate human speech.

"Is there really no room for negotiation at all?" As he said this, Zhang Renfeng took out the two gold nuggets that Lyon had given them and placed them in his palm.

"..."

I never expected to see such authentic face-changing art on the other side of the ocean.

The furious expression that had been gripping his teeth just moments before vanished instantly, like a snowflake falling into a furnace. He took the two glittering gold nuggets, held them to his nose, and inhaled their aroma with rapt attention for a few seconds.

Then, he straightened the chair again, sat down properly, and waved his hand to signal his underlings behind him to stop pointing their guns at them.

"How so?" Tuku asked.

"Gold," Zhang Renfeng said in a deep voice.

"How many?"

"These two are just a hair on the back of a ox," Zhang Renfeng said with a smile. "I'm really sorry for hitting your men, so I'm giving them to you as compensation, consider it a small gift."

"Tap!" "Tap!"

When the two gold nuggets were struck together, the sound was dull and lacked resonance, which is exactly what real gold should produce.