Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

Since the other party handled things so elegantly, he couldn't be undignified either. Seeing that the sheriff was already within his firing range, Zhang Renfeng didn't draw his gun inside the Red Bird Tavern. Instead, he nodded slightly to the owner, slipped out through the back door, circled around, and returned to most of the flank positions.

"Gudu... gudu..."

The whiskey slid down his throat, and for some reason, it felt exceptionally refreshing at that moment. He felt like he was on steroids, with inexhaustible energy!

"Cool!"

The volcano pistol was no longer enough for him, so he took the elephant hunting rifle off his back, cocked it, and aimed at the leader of the sheriffs.

----

"Where's Hongzhong? Where is Hongzhong?! I just saw him jump into your shop!"

Under intense pressure, people tend to disregard rules. Those like Zhang Renfeng and Mike, who can maintain composure under pressure, are ultimately a minority.

Especially now, with the wind blowing sand, it has become a battlefield where people are dying every second. The sheriffs have forgotten all rules and regulations and dragged the boss out from behind the bar, almost spitting on his face.

"I...I don't know, I've been hiding here the whole time, I didn't see him..."

"Boom!"

Before he could finish speaking, a rifle butt struck him on the head, knocking him over onto the bar.

"Stop pretending, you old codger! Last time you said you didn't see anything, and this time a grown man smashed through the wall and jumped onto your turf, and you still didn't see it? Do you think we're blind?!" The out-of-control sheriff pressed the barrel of his gun against the man's forehead and yelled, "Are you an accomplice of Hong Zhong?! Tell me, where did you hide Hong Zhong...?"

"boom!"

The wall was shattered by bullets. A rifle bullet whistled through the air, tearing his arm apart. The bullet grazed the air, punching a hole in a bottle of red wine on the counter. Drops of blood and wine splattered out, mixing together and seeping into the cracks in the floor.

Now the sheriffs finally believed he was outside, but it was too late. They were trapped, with nowhere to hide or escape.

"boom--!"

"boom--!"

"boom--!"

……

After firing three shots, Zhang Renfeng skillfully pulled back the bolt, amazed by the power of the big gun in his hand.

What appeared to be a decorative item hanging on the wall was actually a modified bolt-action rifle, unlike any other item on the market. Its unique design allowed it to deliver rifle bullets with significantly greater penetrating power. It didn't even need to aim for vital organs; the bullets would tear the target's body apart, creating wounds large enough to bleed them to death.

"This is truly a treasure trove..."

He stroked the barrel of the elephant-hunting rifle and murmured, when suddenly he heard a dull gunshot, different from that of a revolver, almost as loud as that of his volcano pistol.

"boom!"

Hollow-point bullets shattered his wooden bunker, sending wood chips flying everywhere. Intense firepower followed, pinning him down and preventing him from showing his face.

Chapter 59: I send my greetings on behalf of the Bagua Sect!

"Hongzhong, you're surrounded! Our reinforcements will be here soon. Listen to the commotion; there's more than just this few people in Fengchuishan Town. Surrender immediately, or at least for the next few days, prison will be your best destination!"

The sound of horses' hooves and sirens approached from afar, giving Mark a sense of confidence.

Between shots, he did a rough math problem: at Cheddar Manor, there were about thirty mercenary gunmen on duty. Unlike the cowboy games young master Colin played, these were highly trained, experienced fighters who could shoot, ride horses, and kill when necessary. The Cheddar family paid them very well, and they were willing to work for them.

Besides them, a portion of the police force on the outskirts of the town was also tightening its grip, forming an inescapable net! Even so, he dared not relax his guard, not even daring to blink. Hong Zhong's combat prowess was simply too incredible; he was terrified that if he closed his eyes even slightly, this guy would vanish from his sight like magic.

Fire! Fire! Keep fucking firing!

He licked his lips, which were dry from the gunfire, and mechanically repeated the action of loading ammunition, continuing to suppress fire from behind cover.

“Mark… Sheriff…”

"What!?" Mark's tone was extremely impatient, like a powder keg about to explode, because he hadn't been able to accurately load a single bullet into the magazine.

The companion beside him sounded hesitant, "Could a few of you help me carry him to the clinic in town? I mean... he doesn't look like he's..."

Mark glanced back briefly and saw a companion dragging himself out of the Red Bird Tavern, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

"No, I don't have time for that nonsense, he's hopeless!"

Mark quickly looked away and reprimanded, "I need suppressive fire to hold Red Center, which requires enough manpower and enough guns! No one is allowed to leave their post before we take Red Center; everyone must hold their ground until the very last second!"

The group exchanged glances, looking at each other with a sense of dread in their eyes.

Same uniform, same sidearm.

So, the reason why he was lying on the ground on the verge of death while I was still standing was simply because I was lucky, wasn't it?

Looking at Mark again, his expression had changed, and a madness flickered in his eyes. It seemed that he was willing to do anything to capture Hong Zhong and keep his position. This madness terrified his subordinates. In this unfortunate colleague, they vaguely saw their own fate: once injured or rendered useless, they would be ruthlessly abandoned like hunting dogs that could no longer hunt.

Hesitation made his movements clumsy, and Zhang Renfeng, who had been lying in wait, keenly seized this opportunity when Mark still hadn't emerged from his cover. After a few rounds of fighting, he had already determined that Mark's marksmanship posed a considerable threat to him, and that rashly peeking out could very well result in him being injured by those incredibly powerful bullets.

"Gan..."

After a moment's thought, he downed the bottle of wine in one gulp, squinted his left eye, and used the reflective glass bottle as a mirror. After adjusting the angle for a while, he finally caught a glimpse of Mark's location—they were all hiding behind a cargo wagon. Its owner had already fled, leaving only the cargo boxes as cover. Perhaps because he hadn't fought back in a while, Mark was being a bit reckless, with most of his body exposed outside the cover, firing in their direction.

This tiny bit of information is enough.

"Alright, Mark Durand..."

Zhang Renfeng took a pair of mandarin duck axes from his belt, pressed the handle on the outer side of the phoenix eyes against his forehead, as if he wanted to pour his life force into this weapon that had accompanied him across the ocean, and murmured, "I send my greetings to you on behalf of the Bagua Sect!"

"Give it to me!"

He held his breath, focused his mind, and suddenly opened his eyes wide, his face filled with anger!

Zhang Renfeng's wrist trembled, and with the force of a stone-throwing technique, he threw the Mandarin Duck Axes out. Almost at the same time, he drew his gun and fired!

"when!"

Sparks fly.

The bullet caught up with the silver crescent moon in mid-air. Its shape was already semi-circular, and the bullet, once fired, gave it an even greater angle of rotation and increased speed. The projectile made a slight detour in the air. Mark never dreamed his opponent would throw such a strange contraption; his attention was entirely focused on the projectile directly in front of him.

By the time he caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye, the bright silver was already pressed against his unguarded neck.

"laugh!"

First, I felt cold; it was the coldness of the blade.

If you feel heat, it's the burning heat of fresh blood!

Fortunately, this wasn't Zhang Renfeng's attack during close combat. Otherwise, this blow should have cleanly severed his carotid artery and sent him to meet his maker within a minute.

And now... the "antler" part of the Mandarin Duck Axe has just avoided his vital parts. It looks like his flesh is turned outwards and he looks horribly injured, but it is not fatal for the time being.

temporary.

Physically, Mark is still alive.

But mentally... he was terrified.

If you were to tell him now that Hongzhong is backed by an arms dealer, that he carries six or seven revolvers, three or four Carcano rifles, and is covered in bullet belts, he wouldn't be afraid at all. Because he knows his opponent is just like him, only more armed, and he's confident he can use his numerical and tactical advantages to take him down bit by bit.

What's truly terrifying is always the unknown.

Just like now, he doesn't know what's stuck in his neck. He also doesn't know how the other side managed to stick this thing in his neck amidst a hail of bullets.

This time it was just a close call, but what about next time? And the time after that?!

"Ah...ah...my neck! My neck...oh God!" Mark tried to touch the Mandarin Duck Axe, but his fingers were cut by the "fish tail". He immediately became short of breath and his pupils dilated, which is a physiological reaction when a person is in extreme fear.

“Mr. Mark, this… on your neck…”

"boom!"

"boom!"

Before he could finish speaking, a bullet pierced his chest, blood gushed out, and he died instantly!

"You guys...you guys hold them off, I'm going to treat my wounds..." Mark said this, then turned around and practically tumbled away.

In the instant he turned, several more of his comrades were accurately pierced through the chest and killed. Red Center did not let go of this good opportunity to throw themselves into disarray. The sound of the Volcano pistol was like a death knell from hell, but Mark, panting heavily, closed his eyes, pretending that he could neither see nor hear it!

"Boom--!"

He slammed the dilapidated police station door shut against the latch. Not content with that, he dragged a stool over and used it to brace the door shut. Ironically, just minutes before, he had been bombarding this door with hollow-point bullets, leaving several bullet holes. Through these holes, slivers of light from the outside world could be seen faintly…

And screams.

“Dong dong dong dong!!”

The frantic knocking was mixed with cries of near despair.

"Sheriff Mark, open the door! Open it..."

The shouting stopped abruptly halfway through, as if the sound of something being severed came from outside the door.

Mark's expression grew increasingly terrified. Ignoring the blood still streaming from his neck, he leaned against the desk, pushed hard, and reinforced the door panel to hold it shut. He then pulled out his most powerful shotgun, loaded it, and crouched in the corner, aiming preemptively at the doorway.

----

"Beep beep—!! Beep—!!"

Outside the gate, the sound of whistles and horses' hooves finally arrived as expected.

“Ha…” Mark finally smiled and muttered, “You’re finished, Red Center, our reinforcements are here…”

"You're finished—!"

He started howling wildly, as if trying to prove something.

Chapter Sixty: He is the only guilty one among the wind and sand.

"He's there! You damned bastard, stop right there—!!"

A nearly ineffective warning rang out from outside the door. It was obvious that Red Center wouldn't surrender easily. So forget about everything else, just shoot him! Even if you riddle him with bullets, sending him to Mr. Cheddar would at least be an explanation, wouldn't it?

He picked up a mirror and examined the weapon embedded in his neck with trembling hands, immediately gasping for breath.

It was such a tiny difference, just a fingernail's width away from the carotid artery! If it had been a fraction more off, severing the artery, I would probably have bled to death right there in the street.

Overwhelmed by the fear of death, he had no heart to thank God for his fortunate gift. The weapon's shape was so bizarre that Mark had never seen anything like it in his life. Touching it carelessly could even result in a cut from the blade.

Even a doctor in a clinic might not dare to remove this thing by hand, because the blood vessels in the neck are too dense. If one is not careful and cuts open any of them, it will result in massive bleeding that is impossible to save.

He could only pray anxiously and devoutly in the depths of his heart.

"Please, anyone will do, anyone can come... Sheriff, Pinkerton detective, or even the private soldiers of the Cheddar family, just one shot, one bullet! Send him to hell, if your aim is good enough, just one bullet will do!"

"boom!"

"boom!"

"boom!"

"boom!"

……

As if in response to his expectations, an incredibly fierce gunfight erupted just beyond the thin wooden planks. The gunfire was punctuated by extremely crude curses; these mercenaries were no gentlemen, having all been thugs before being recruited by Cheddar, and their fighting style was naturally like that. Mark dared not relax for a moment, almost holding his breath, listening intently to the sounds outside, afraid of missing the exhilarating shout of "Kill him—!"

What terrified him even more was that the gunshots gradually became less frequent, and the angry curses were replaced by screams.

Finally, the gunshots, like a summer thunderclap, dwindled to a few scattered bursts. Painful screams lingered outside the door, faint and indistinct, separated by a wall. Mark gripped his double-barreled shotgun tightly, his face pale with anxiety. He had almost forgotten that such a thing was still stuck in his neck.

The voices gradually faded away, leaving only the neighing and whining of horses, which... and more importantly, sent a chill down his spine.

Finally, the horses galloped away, and the entire town fell into a deathly silence. It was a truly "dead silence," with every door tightly shut and not a sound of life emanating from the streets. He huddled in a corner of the wooden house, his eyes dry from staring, yet he dared not blink. Behind doors, on ceilings, in the shadows of the prison—it seemed that if he relaxed even slightly, Hong Zhong would emerge from those places and slit his throat like a maddened beast!

"Dong dong!"

"Dong dong!"

This small police station was like a small boat tossed into a storm, with waves crashing against its hull. Mark had no control over it and could only huddle in a corner of the cabin, praying that the storm would pass quickly.

And this deathly silence... was like seawater flooding the cabin, almost swallowing him up.

"crunch..."

The strange noise came from above.

On the second floor?!

Mark instinctively raised his gun, but the sound vanished immediately, giving him no chance to determine the direction.

Perhaps it's just my imagination? Or maybe it's a mouse scratching at the wall, or perhaps it's just the creaking sound that wood often makes?

He held his breath, staring intently at the ceiling hanging above him, and vowed in his heart: if he heard it just once more, just once more! he would pull the trigger without hesitation and shoot it straight through! Compared to his life, nothing else mattered.