Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

Less than an hour after taking power, his stronghold was captured by the Red Army. He gained nothing and lost most of his men. One wonders what they think of their new leader at this moment?

"I've got it... I've got it!"

Sandor slapped his thigh. "Mini Traveler's Shop, that's where Victor and the others were killed. There's still some food in that shop. Let's go there to take refuge, replenish our supplies, and then make further plans."

This isn't a good solution, but it's the only viable option at the moment.

No one objected, nor did they respond to what he said; they simply turned their horses around and left.

A cold wind blew by, and the fearless Sandor inexplicably shivered.

He suddenly realized that he was still among the wolves.

Chapter Ninety-Eight: On Sparrow Mountain

With everyone on edge, no one wanted to be the first to step forward, so Sandor, as the eldest brother, had no choice but to take the lead.

Guided by memory, they wandered for a long time along the snow-covered mountain trails, and then, to their surprise, they saw a glimmer of light! The warm orange light swayed in the wind and snow, and to the distressed people, it was as warm as paradise.

In the desolate wilderness, amidst wind and snow, why is there a light on in the Mini Traveler's Shop, which should be completely deserted?

Nobody cares anymore. As long as they have a place to rest, warm themselves by the fire, and get back on their feet, anything goes.

"Is anyone home?" Sandor's arm was still throbbing, but he could only grit his teeth and knock on the door, shouting in his already hoarse voice, "Is anyone home? We are passing merchants, we've...we've gotten lost up ahead...it's so late, we can't get out of the snow mountain...This is the Mini Traveler's Shop, right? Can we come in and rest for the night?"

The room was silent for a while, then a hoarse, murky voice came from inside the door.

"You...aren't from the Wolf Shepherd Gang, are you?"

Sandor was startled.

He continued, "My son...daughter-in-law...were all killed by that damned Shepherd Wolf Gang, not even their bodies were left...They were good people their whole lives, and this is their end. Ah...this shop is about to close down too, I'm here to pack up my things. You can go, go!"

"Grandpa, we're not the Wolf Shepherd Gang, we really aren't." Sandor mustered his strength and continued banging on the door. "We're all unarmed, just staying for the night to warm ourselves by the fire. Please, some of us are injured, and if we don't rest properly, our wounds will worsen and we might die!"

There was a moment of silence in the room.

"Fine, then." The old voice finally relented. "The door is nailed shut; you'll have to kick it down."

"Ha, what an idiot! Sure enough, the whole family are morons." Sandor sneered, turned around, and said in a morale-boosting tone, "Kids, once we're inside, loot everything we can in this shop, and kill this old man!"

There are only two ways to motivate soldiers—greed and fear.

Fear is no longer effective; only prestige built up over time can translate into awe and reverence in crucial moments. No one fears someone like Sandor, who starts a mess as soon as he takes power. His strategy of promising his men free rein to plunder is a morale-boosting tactic based on greed. However, Sandor discovers that even that approach has lost its appeal.

Everyone still looked at him with those complicated expressions.

Having no other choice, he gritted his teeth and took matters into his own hands, kicking the door open with one foot. Unexpectedly, the nail was driven in shallowly, and he kicked it open with a single blow.

……

wall.

warmth.

fire.

At that moment, everyone, including Sandor, felt like they had survived a catastrophe.

"Are you in?" The old man's voice came from inside the shop, as if he was busy with something. "The nails and hammer are on your right. Nail the door back up."

"Understood—!" Sandor replied, a disdainful sneer running through his mind. As he hammered in the nails, he mocked his men, "Look at this Red Center, he's still not very bright. If he had ambushed us here and surrounded us, we would have been completely finished."

Dangdangdang!

After a series of loud knocks, Sandor finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is it nailed up?" the old man's voice came from inside the house.

“They’re all nailed in, don’t worry, they’re very sturdy!” Sandor tossed the hammer aside, revealing a cruel sneer. “Not a wisp of wind can get in.”

"Really? That puts my mind at ease..."

----

The old man's voice suddenly changed.

Zhang Renfeng, carrying two sharpened kitchen knives, slowly walked out of the inner room under everyone's gaze, a chilling smile on his face. "Welcome—to—this—place?"

……

It's no exaggeration to say that some people let out a bloodcurdling scream as if they had seen a ghost.

After overcoming countless hardships, they finally reached what they thought was a safe place and breathed a sigh of relief, only to find the ghost waiting beside them the moment they turned around. Zhang Renfeng understood human nature well. If they had remained tense, they might have been able to hold out a little longer. It was from the moment they saw the light that they briefly lowered their guard, only to suddenly tighten it again. The contrast and the resulting sense of despair caused them to snap their rationality in an instant.

Red Center is here.

This means that everything he did from beginning to end was within his prediction.

"ah----!!!"

The guns were still loaded, but no one pulled them out. The crowd screamed like madmen, turned around, and tried to run away.

They were met with a wooden door that had been nailed shut. They pounded on it desperately, but there was no response.

"No, no, that won't do. Our fate began in this room..." Zhang Renfeng brandished his twin swords and sneered, "and it will end in this room too!"

----

Tick, tick.

The sound of blood falling to the ground.

The flames inside the house flickered. Looking at the scattered corpses of his companions and their agonizing deaths, Sandor finally understood the shepherd's good intentions. He was right, always had been, and the truly tragic thing was that he had missed so many opportunities to escape.

……

"If the gang is in your hands, it probably won't last more than a few days before we all go to hell together."

……

Those words were still echoing in my ears when, in less than four hours, all the members of the Wolf Shepherd Gang were dead. It seemed that Hong Zhong deliberately avoided using guns, instead employing all sorts of bizarre and incomprehensible methods to kill.

A kitchen knife, a piece of wood, a shard of glass... He dealt with several people who had lost their will to fight swiftly and decisively, without the slightest hesitation.

He left himself until the very end.

"Wait, wait a minute, it wasn't us who planned it!" Seeing him finish dealing with his last companion and slowly walk towards him, Sandor used his last strength to raise his hand and say, "It was Mule! It was... Mule! He planned the kidnapping, those two coachmen were his men, and he was also the one who was supposed to get 70%..."

"You still don't understand?" Zhang Renfeng looked at him with a hint of pity. "It's all fake. The Maysved Bank, the $9600, it's all fake. You've been fooled. You killed the only person who could protect you."

“…Why…” Sandor’s eyes widened, panting heavily. At this point, he no longer expected to live, he only wanted to die knowing the truth. “Give me a reason…give me a reason!”

Zhang Renfeng did not answer, but smiled and gently put the button that had been taken off him back into his pocket.

----

"boom!"

He kicked open the door, which was covered in nails, and dragged Sandor by his clothes outside.

“Woo woo woo…”

The beast's growl made him gasp.

Then, several robust gray wolves appeared from some corner of the forest, crouching low, their eyes gleaming with an eerie green light. Their exhaled breath swirled and intertwined in the air, forming a vast net from which there was nowhere to escape.

Sandor's face instantly turned pale. He thought he was going to die at the hands of the Red Center, but little did he know that reality was always worse than expected.

"Didn't you notice? They've been following you all this way," Zhang Renfeng said with a smile. "They're here to find you."

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

Sandor desperately tried to crawl back, but Zhang Renfeng kicked him away. These wolves seemed to have a real sense of intelligence; they didn't jump up to attack Zhang Renfeng, but just stared intently at Sandor, baring their sharp teeth and claws, letting out a deathly growl.

As the gate slowly closed, just before it was completely shut, Zhang Renfeng saw the gray wolves swarm forward and bite Sandor's left leg.

The traitor who killed the wolf king was ultimately devoured by the pack of wolves.

With the last bit of flesh and blood swallowed, the "Shepherds Gang," a gang that had existed in New Austin for eight years, became history.

On Sparrow Mountain, the wind and snow howled without ceasing.

Chapter 99: After a Feast, Hijacking the Train

"To put it simply, there was a father and son who escaped from a country called 'Former Yan' and sought refuge with the enemy country 'Former Qin'."

"Wang Meng, the prime minister of the Former Qin, distrusted the father and son, believing they would turn against him. So he devised a plan: first, he transferred his son to the front lines, and then tricked his father into giving him a golden knife, a personal token. He then bribed a trusted confidant under his father's command, instructing him to take the golden knife to the front lines, find his son, and deceive him into believing that he could no longer stay in the Former Qin and would be persecuted at any time, and that he must return to the Former Yan immediately."

"The confidant lied that he had come in a hurry and had no letter, only a golden knife as proof. Although the son was suspicious, he could not verify it and was filled with anxiety. Under immense psychological pressure, he still chose to lead his troops back to the Former Yan. At this time, the father, who was in the Former Qin, actually had no choice—his son had defected, his confidant had been turned, and he could not explain himself no matter how hard he tried. So, he could only run away."

"This is the greatest stratagem of all time, the Golden Knife Strategy. Even though both father and son are very intelligent, they are still powerless against Wang Meng, who has an absolute advantage in information."

……

The Red Center gang members were surrounded by piles of firearms, all captured from the fortress's armory, though they were mostly outdated models, dating back to the Civil War. They were somewhat out of touch with modern weaponry. The Shepherd Gang members didn't know how to maintain their weapons; they were just piled up there, many of them rusted and unusable.

They picked out the weapons that were still usable, and listened with deep emotion as Zhang Renfeng recounted stories that had taken place in the ancient East.

"The Golden Knife Plan... So that's how it works?" Alana muttered softly. "In practice, it seems a little different."

“No two things in the world are exactly alike, and the same goes for strategies. Just grasp the general direction.” Zhang Renfeng held up a sliding roller rifle, tried out the scope, and explained, “No matter how the strategy itself changes, the key point of the ‘counter-espionage’ strategy will not change—to use information asymmetry to make the target unable to discern the true situation.”

Zhang Renfeng tossed the gun aside and, like a parent, instructed Xiaomei and Alana, "You two need to be careful in the future. If you only earn a few dozen yuan a month, you won't get a business deal worth hundreds of yuan falling into your lap. When those hundreds of yuan business deals do come along, they won't be after your few dozen yuan."

"The wolfherd was cautious enough, wasn't he? But he wasn't a complete beast; he still had desires. I described him in a flowery way, which blinded him, and he took the belt I offered him. From that moment on, he couldn't explain himself."

----

When Mike returned with the empty wagon, they had turned the Wolf Pack upside down.

Sure enough, the slave trade wasn't very profitable. Alana practically had to pry open the floorboards before finally finding an old, locked chest in a very hidden, dusty corner. Once inside, she finally got what she'd earned from her half-day's work.

1452 dollars.

In addition, there were a few still-usable rifles, revolvers, and a bundle of explosives.

"How about it?"

"The lawyer was like a little brat, making a lot of noise and complaining. He said he wasn't from the monastery, and that he hadn't finished settling the people from Scar Village last time." Mike knocked on the empty carriage, still staring with dead fish eyes. "I told him it was your request, and he didn't say anything more, silently accepting the person."

Come to think of it, Jimmy is just a lawyer after all. No matter how much he uses his connections, he doesn't have the ability to arrange the whereabouts of so many people. They're willing to work for him, but so far, they haven't earned a single penny, yet they've done a lot of work. Even if they don't say anything, this can't go on for long.

"A lawyer?" Ego asked curiously, interrupting his thoughts. "This is the first time I've ever heard of gang members hiring lawyers."

"To be precise, he wasn't exactly employed; he was more of an off-the-job staff member. He was responsible for helping us resolve some legal issues."

Recalling her last meeting with the slippery Jimmy, Alana couldn't help but sigh, "Speaking of which, he mentioned before that the camp needed a cook. Just thinking about the delicious food waiting for me, after risking my life every day, gives me a little something to look forward to."

……

"Really? He seems to know how to enjoy life, hahaha..."

Igor's answer was somewhat perfunctory. For him, the meal had reached a crucial moment, and his mind was naturally no longer on the conversation.

Right now, he's flipping the marinated bacon in the frying pan, making sure every cut is heated evenly. Hot oil drips from the surface, sizzling and popping as it soaks into the bottom of the pan, releasing its aroma along with the food.

This was the marinated venison he had prepared while he was at the Wolf Pack camp. Sometimes, when he was lucky and there were leftovers from the hunt, he would cut off the pork belly, soak it in syrup and salt, and then coat it with coarse black pepper.

When he fled, adhering to the principle of not wasting anything, Igor packed all the venison, along with his bottles and jars of seasonings, into a bag and took it with him.

"The authentic way to eat it is to smoke it with walnut or apple wood; that's the best way to make it. But we don't have that right now, so we'll just use whatever wood we have," Igor muttered to himself, seemingly not expecting anyone to respond.

His slender frame, however, resembled that of a methodical general, skillfully handling the ingredients in two different frying pans: venison, bacon, and pike.

His personal preference is to fry it until it's a little charred, until all the oil is rendered out and both sides are a deep brown color, then it's ready to serve.

"After all, it's in the mountains, so ingredients are a bit scarce... Just make do and eat whatever you have."

The grilled bacon and pike, in this harsh and cold land, were undoubtedly a powerful sensory experience. Such a refined breakfast made Zhang Renfeng wonder how he had managed to get by on a pile of canned food for his three daily meals a day until now.

The bitter taste of the rye bread softened under the aroma of bacon and grilled fish. With the bread filling my throat, I gulped down a naturally chilled Kentucky bourbon, listened to the crackling of the campfire, and even the surrounding snowy scenery took on a unique beauty.

Zhang Renfeng finally understood what Jimmy meant—eating such a good breakfast first thing in the morning would give him plenty of energy for the whole day. The thought of similar delicious meals waiting for him at lunch and dinner gave him even more motivation to "definitely come back."

"..." Mike wiped the snow off his lips, removing the grease, and unusually stopped staring at others with his deadpan eyes. He simply said, "A salute to the head chef."

Even Mike, who is usually quite demanding about external things, was won over, so the two little girls, needless to say, were full of praise for Igor's breakfast.

"Alright, now that we've eaten and drunk our fill, it's time to get down to business..." Zhang Renfeng used the remaining rye bread to dip in the sauce at the bottom of the plate, finishing it all up before casually tossing the wooden bowl aside. "There's still a train waiting for us to rob."

"Would you like to come with us?"