Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

But perhaps God was deliberately tormenting him, because the sound of the wooden board never came again.

It never...appeared again...

----

"Boom-!!"

The wall behind him shattered easily, and he burst into the crumbling "cabin" from an unexpected and tricky angle, like a sea monster lurking in the deep ocean. The wall couldn't stop him at all. Mark turned around hastily, and what he saw reflected in his eyes was Hong Zhong's ferocious and terrifying smile.

He's enjoying it!

He was enjoying the process of chasing and hunting!

Before Mark could raise his gun, Zhang Renfeng swiftly reached out and grabbed the handle of the Mandarin Duck Axe. With just a slight exertion, Mark felt as if he had fallen into a cold cave, his hand holding the gun frozen in place, afraid to make any further movement.

“Before you say the next sentence, I strongly suggest you think it over carefully… Inspector Mark, put the gun down.” Zhang Renfeng smiled faintly, gripping the handle with ease, as if he were holding the nose ring of an old ox. “Give me your revolver too.”

With his life in their hands, Mark had no choice but to obey. By handing over both of his guns, he became like meat on a chopping board, completely at their mercy.

However, the fact that he was able to break into the police station means that... he has basically killed off most of the police force that Feng Chuisha could mobilize. The mounted police will take some time to arrive, and in this lull, he can kill himself a hundred times over.

What does it matter if Hongzhong, covered in blood, takes another life?

"Let me ask you something." Zhang Renfeng took the revolver and casually inquired as if in conversation, "Do you know who I am?"

“You’re Red Center… No!” Mark suddenly changed the subject, trying to negotiate. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen you before, and I don’t know who you are.”

“Wrong answer. I’m a stable hand in Fengchuisha Town.” Zhang Renfeng weighed his revolver in one hand, immediately noticing the weight of the bullet. “Haha, hollow-point bullet, huh? I see… When she first met me, she told me that her father’s body was killed by a headshot…”

"You did this?"

“…Not just me, everyone! The sheriff of this town, everyone, everyone is involved! We are all under Cheddar’s command. You’ve probably heard that he’s the biggest business tycoon in New Elizabeth. Railroads, oil, sugar… he’s involved in every lucrative industry you can imagine. We’re just the ones who maintain the rules. Take off these sheriff’s uniforms, take off the stars, and we’re nothing. But he, he’s the one who creates the rules!”

"Imagine if a lowly sheriff discovers the real rules of the game played by the big shots, and tries to expose them using the so-called 'law' on the surface. What would happen if the big shots found out?"

Mark swallowed hard and continued, "Barry Marston may be a good man, but he's not a smart one. As long as he keeps quiet, no one will get hurt, and he can still earn a good salary and live a happy life with his family."

"But he was prepared to take this little bit of evidence to court. Poor Mr. Marston didn't know that the so-called law was nothing but a joke! Those well-dressed gentlemen in the courtroom were nothing but Chedel's dogs."

"After the incident blew up, all the sheriffs in Windblown Sands knew about it, but no one spoke up for him. Cheder's meaning was very clear: I was to 'keep an eye on my men.' I talked to him, and I paid the money I was owed, but our Mr. Marston... his head is as hard as a rock! As hard as a rock!"

Mark repeated himself, his voice trembling with anxiety, "I... I want you to know, this isn't just my decision..."

"In that situation, he was the only guilty person in the entire Windblown Sands."

Chapter 61: You believed it?! You actually believed it?!

"Where's Chaideur?" Zhang Renfeng's hand was still on his, and he looked at him with a smile. "Where did he go?"

"Mr. Chaidl's specific itinerary is not something we people can inquire about. We only communicate with his private security team when he returns to Fengchuisha to ensure his safety in public. However! However..."

Mark quickly raised his hand and added, "I know his next stop is New Austin, White Torch! There's a high-society dinner there, lots of celebrities will be there, including... the mayor of White Torch, Wendigo Lecter! He's reached some kind of agreement with Mr. Cheddar, apparently to set up some kind of bank in White Torch, that's all I know."

“The bank,” Zhang Renfeng tilted his head and laughed. “This guy won’t stop until he’s stuffed all the money in the world into his pocket.”

"And what about his home? Is there no one else there right now?"

“Mr. Cheddar has mansions in various states, but he has some affection for Windblown Sands, where he made his fortune, and he only comes back to stay from time to time.”

Mark swallowed hard and explained, “Normally, the mansions are empty. He spends a lot of money hiring guards and housekeepers to ensure that every estate is spotless whenever he feels like it and wants to take the kids on vacation to some state.”

“He knows how to enjoy life.” Zhang Renfeng couldn’t help but laugh out loud, but even this gentle, harmonious laugh sent a chill down Mark’s spine.

I don’t understand…

The most terrifying people are those who are completely unpredictable and cannot be judged by common sense.

"Colin is his second son, right?" Zhang Renfeng disassembled the shotgun into parts on the spot, then casually placed Mark's naval revolver on the table. Seemingly relaxing his guard a little, he turned around and began rummaging through Mark's drawer. "Where are his other children?"

"This, this..."

Mark's eyes were somewhat unfocused. He swallowed hard and continued, "On the surface, Cheddar only has three children. His eldest son is a colonel in the Confederate Army, where he is developing his career."

"You've already killed your second son. As for your third son, he seems to be studying in England or Germany. Rumors are circulating that he has some other illegitimate children hidden among the people, and quite a few at that. But these private matters are beyond my knowledge."

"Hmm...that's how it is..."

One was in the military, the other abroad—neither was a target that could be reached in a short time. Chaidl himself, like a porcupine in heat, was frantically running around. Physically speaking, this was probably the closest target to him.

However, that's not what we should be thinking about right now. What we should really be thinking about is ammunition, supplies, and essential survival materials.

Zhang Renfeng opened the drawer, absentmindedly dealing with the task, and began packing ammunition into his satchel—revolvers, rifles, shotgun shells—he needed any kind of bullet.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze shifted from Mark, while his own revolver... lay quietly on the table, gleaming with an alluring metallic sheen. He could almost hear his own heartbeat, so he deliberately held his breath, afraid that Red would detect something amiss.

……

Close your eyes.

Open your eyes!

He moved with the fastest speed he had ever seen, like a hungry tiger pouncing on a sheep, throwing his entire body onto the table and swiftly grabbing his revolver.

"Go to hell, Red Center—!!"

He pressed the firing pin and pulled the trigger. In that instant, Mark felt a surge of energy release with his low growl, leaving him feeling refreshed and invigorated.

But then, with a "click," the magazine spun empty, sending a chill down his spine.

----

"what……"

"Hahaha... Ahahahahahahaha—"

Zhang Renfeng seemed to have seen a joke he had been waiting for for a long time, and suddenly grinned and laughed wildly.

He was a martial artist, naturally possessing a powerful voice. His laughter, imbued with deep internal energy, vibrated so loudly it made the glass rattle. This laughter was terrifying; Mark instantly realized he'd been fooled—the gun had been deliberately placed there. Whatever the reason, in this test of humanity, he had made the worst choice.

"You...you actually believed it..." After laughing, Zhang Renfeng mocked in an extremely sarcastic tone, "You actually believed that I would place a gun that can be fired within your reach?"

“...How did you do that?” Mark was utterly despondent, only wanting to figure out his trick before he died. “I didn’t see you remove the bullet.”

“I learned a little bit of magic tricks from my senior brother. You can think of it as an ancient Eastern magic trick.” Zhang Renfeng opened his left hand and flicked out a few hollow points, which fell to the ground with a clinking sound. “Magic tricks are all about speed. If it’s not fast, it’s not interesting.”

“If…” Mark gave a bitter laugh, “would the outcome have been different if I hadn’t fired the gun?”

"Well, I might let you die a little more easily. You know, there's a big difference between different kinds of death."

He suddenly reached out and removed the pair of axe sticks that had been stuck around his neck, then swung them sideways with a force that was no more than cutting a cigar short.

"laugh----!"

Blood gushed from the wound, and he instinctively raised his hand to cover it, his face instantly turning deathly pale.

“Alright, Mr. Mark, come with me…” Zhang Renfeng pocketed the $500 on the table, lowered his head slightly, and gave him a terrifying smile. “You shouldn’t have died here.”

----

"No...no, no..."

Mark was dragged out of the police station by the back of his collar. The difference in light between the inside and outside caused his pupils to contract involuntarily. Blood was still gushing out, but all he could do was try to stop the bleeding with his hands, even though his reason knew it was futile, his survival instinct still wouldn't give up. Only at this moment did he understand what Zhang Renfeng meant by "a painful way to die."

The realization that you are “dying” and there is nothing you can do about it is a terrifying thing that cannot be described in words.

On the streets and in the alleys, there wasn't a single living person to be seen.

The dozen or so skilled men he had promised to bring were now all lying on the muddy road, their bodies scattered in disarray.

"Monster...you, you are a monster..."

"Whatever you say."

Zhang Renfeng dragged him all the way to the church, and along the way, he led a horse, patted its neck, and while soothing the horse, took out Mark's naval revolver.

In front of him, he loaded a hollow-point bullet into the cylinder, then took a few more steps and placed the gun and a small wooden plaque next to the base of the Jesus statue.

“I didn’t completely sever your carotid artery. If you bleed slowly, it will probably take a few more minutes before you die a painful death. Of course, you can choose a faster method…” Zhang Renfeng gestured towards the gun with his lip and smiled in a very humane way, “There’s a bullet inside.”

----

……

Hongzhong rode away on his horse, along the mountain path, never looking back.

"Ah...ah..."

Life was slipping away so quickly. The unease and fear of not knowing when he would die, coupled with the excruciating physical pain, led Mark to make a decision. He dragged his body, crawling slowly and laboriously, his remaining consciousness calling for God's help.

In the darkness, he seemed to hear an answer.

----

……

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

……

"what……"

He picked up the gun, tilted his head back, pressed the muzzle against his chin, and struggled to adjust his posture to make sure he was facing Jesus.

What does it matter?

"boom--!!"

The glaring crimson left its mark on the suffering statue.

Chapter 62: Let the monsters kill each other!

“What the…”

The gunmen who arrived late were so shocked by what they saw that their hair practically stood on end.

The wind blew sand as if kissed by death, and the entire town was shrouded in a solemn, deathly silence. The streets had become a carnival for crows, and black feathers were everywhere on the rooftops and eaves, causing the leader of the group to frown with an inexplicable sense of annoyance. Coincidentally, they were also dressed in black and wearing black bowler hats, so in a sense, they were wearing the same clothes as the crows.

"boom!"

He fired a shot into the air, driving away the group of greedy gluttons.

"What do we do now, Agent Micah?" His subordinate lightly kicked the horse's belly, came closer from the side, pointed to the mess in front of them, and asked, "Mr. Cheddar is going to make things difficult for us now that he knows.

“We’re not Cheddar’s private army. He pays the Pinkerton Detective Agency, we take jobs, that’s all. You’d better remember that, Agent Ross.”

Micah removed his hat and fanned himself, revealing a head of somewhat dull blond hair. His black trench coat was half-open, revealing a bright red shirt underneath, and his beer belly protruded slightly. He didn't look very old, sporting a thick mustache, a chiseled face, and slightly narrowed light blue eyes that revealed a simmering ruthlessness. "Have the young men dismount first and dispose of the bodies."

"Just move them out?" Ross frowned, subconsciously touching the brim of his hat with a hint of disgust. "This isn't our job. If we take over, all the messes will automatically follow. The head of the local police... I remember, it was a guy named Mark Durand. Where did he go?"

The next moment, his subordinate's voice came, answering his question.

“Agent Micah! Agent Ross! Come and see, this is truly…”

A headless corpse lies across the ground beneath the statue of Jesus, blood splattered everywhere, which somehow has an artistic quality to it.

"Tch... Look at your cowardly behavior. This is enough to scare you like this?" Ross shook his head and sneered. "If you really encounter a case committed by the 'Ocean Shrike,' you might as well not even go to the scene, or you'll throw up."

“It’s obvious this wasn’t done by the Australian Shrike.” Micah crouched down, his face calm, and walked directly past the corpse with its head blown off. He picked up a small wooden plaque from under the base of the Jesus statue and examined it in the sunlight for a while.

The dark red character "中" (zhong) looks as if it were written in blood.

“Red Center.” He handed the wooden plaque to Ross, confirming, “It was Red Center who did it.”

“Only he would dare, that madman…” Ross tossed the wooden sign to one of his underlings with a sneer, “Thanks to him, the Pinkerton Detective Agency has gotten a lot more orders. In a sense, he’s our biggest client.”

Micah glared at him but said nothing. He simply continued to observe the headless corpse and quickly pulled out some identification documents from its pocket, confirming its identity.

“This is Mark Durand. Judging from the scene, it was suicide… He was still using those dangerous hollow-point bullets.” Micah noticed the wound on his neck, his pupils contracting slightly. “His carotid artery was severed. He either bled to death in agony or died a quick death. It seems he chose the latter.”

"Including the sheriff, at least twenty or thirty people died, including several private gunmen from the Cheddar Manor." Ross took a cigar out of his pocket, struck a match and lit it, muttering, "Do you think... all of this was done by Red Center? Could he have caused such destruction all by himself?"

"Have you forgotten White Torch Town? Judging from the traces at the scene, there was indeed no second intruder... He's not like a typical criminal. According to eyewitness reports at the time, many people said he could fly on walls and rooftops. We can only assume that Red Center has extremely strong physical coordination."

"After committing a major crime in White Torch Town, he fled to Windblown Sands just a few months later, becoming even more dangerous." After a moment of contemplation, Micah suddenly seemed to realize something and turned to ask, "Are you sure the summons for [Angel Eye] has already been issued to him?"

"Don't worry, Agent Micah, I personally delivered it to him as you instructed. That pretentious, mustachioed Englishman, I find him disgusting..."

Ross curled his lip, seemingly disdainful of such behavior. "It's our own business, why should we let bounty hunters profit? They're all greedy bastards who eat meat without spitting out the bones. Agent Micah, I don't think you should trust him."

“I don’t believe him, but I think he’s one of the few who can rival Hong Zhong.” Micah sighed, pulled his hat back up, and said in a deep voice, “I mean… look at this mess. Do you think the outcome would have been any different if I or you had led the team to confront Hong Zhong in Windblown Sand Town this afternoon?”

Corpses strewn everywhere—that was the best self-introduction the Red Army could give them.

“You’re overestimating your opponent, Agent Micah. With enough manpower and guns, it’s only a matter of time before we catch him. The Pinkerton Detective Agency has so many big spenders backing them; if they’re willing to pay, they have plenty of people and guns.”