Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

“Sheriff Mark, why are you so hesitant to issue an arrest warrant for that gunman?” A sheriff leaned over, glanced towards the door, and asked in a low voice, “If we could designate Mike as a suspect and issue an arrest warrant, Mr. Cheddar would surely have nothing to say.”

Mark wiped the blood from the wound on his forehead and looked at the messy tavern floor—the body had already been carried away, but even so, the bloodstains and alcohol spilled on the ground, though long dried, were not so easy to clean up.

"After reading the analysis of the causes of death of those fifteen people, don't you find it strange?"

"One person's eyeball was shattered, four people's Adam's apples were shattered, two people died from broken cervical vertebrae, one person's throat was pierced by a shard of a bottle, and another person's eye was pierced. Only six people died from bullets to the head."

"This isn't like Mike."

"If it were him, even if he wanted to kill, he wouldn't choose to confront fifteen people head-on. He would wait for them to disperse and then use more covert methods to take them down one by one. Judging from the traces at the scene, there was clearly a fierce battle."

He was caught up in a whirlpool of thought, completely unaware of the deeper meaning conveyed in his words.

“Sheriff Mark, you…you don’t mean…” the sheriff asked cautiously, “do you know this Mike?”

Mark's expression changed slightly.

……

Before he could answer, a series of rapid hoofbeats came from the side, and a sheriff almost tumbled off his horse, his face full of panic, without even greeting Ryan next to him.

"Sheriff Mark! Quick...please come quick!"

----

church.

Despite the sheriff's attempts to disperse them, the curious crowd still surrounded the area tightly, layer upon layer, looking up at the high place and whispering among themselves as if they were witnessing a miracle.

Most people felt both excited and terrified by the scene. They were excited because someone most people had hoped for had finally died, but they were also terrified because... his death was so bizarre and gruesome that it cast a terrifying shadow over the hearts of the townspeople.

In the hearts of the locals, the church is a sacred and inviolable sanctuary, and for the murderer to use it as a place to dispose of the body is undoubtedly an extremely blatant provocation.

This person disrespects the law and fears no deity.

A rope hung from the high spire of the cross, suspending Colin Chedell around his neck—a method of execution for a criminal.

His chest was completely sunken in, and his eyes were bulging out.

A crow perched on the spire, cawing loudly, its black feathers resembling a corner of the Grim Reaper's robe.

Their beaks gleamed in the first rays of sunlight.

"..."

Messaria, mingling in the crowd, stood on tiptoe as if trying to etch this scene completely into her mind.

Chapter Ten: You Brushed Past Death

"what……"

Ryan was completely stunned; his pupils dilated and his mouth involuntarily opened.

Seeing his son's body hanging on the cross, he was gripped by a fear he had never felt before.

He had assumed that, no matter how bad the situation, it was simply a matter of someone kidnapping Colin and demanding a ransom. Once the ransom was paid, the matter would be over. Afterward, he would mobilize a vast network of resources to find this person who dared to challenge the authority of the Chedell family and execute him in public.

Clearly, that's not what they intended.

There was no ransom, no reward, and no coercion.

Yes, but only in bloody revenge.

Whoever it was… that person disregarded all the rules of the civilized world, killed a member of the Cheddar family, and hung him from the church. This was a powerful message, sent to himself and to the small town he ruled.

He couldn't show his fear in front of others, so he quickly turned it into anger.

"Sheriff Mark, we found this!"

The sheriff brought over a small, rectangular wooden plaque with a strange pattern painted on it in red ink. It looked square and resembled some kind of writing, but no one knew what it was.

Mark stared at the small wooden sign, his usually resolute expression suddenly changing, replaced by a hint of fear.

"It was in Mr. Colin's jacket pocket; it must have been put there by his killer. Also..."

He glanced at the dazed Ryan, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Based on preliminary assessment, this shouldn't be the primary crime scene. Moreover, Mr. Colin's sternum is caved in, and based on the evidence comparison, he was probably kicked by a horse. His internal bones shattered, piercing his internal organs, causing massive bleeding and death."

"You mean... my son, the second son of the Chedell family... was killed by a beast?! Huh?!!"

Ryan practically roared, waving his arms like a madman, yelling, "Investigate! Investigate now! That Mike, and the wooden plaque too, get to the bottom of this!"

“It was done by the Red One.” Mark closed his eyes slightly and sighed. “After each crime, he would leave a wooden sign like this at the scene, as his unique mark.”

"What?" Ryan instinctively sensed something was wrong. He had heard of this person somewhere before, but his mind was too busy to think straight, and he was momentarily stunned.

"Five months ago, in White Torch. The Nordlin family, a five-generation clan that controlled the mining business in southern New Austin, was wiped out at a family dinner by an attack on 24 people bearing the 'Noldlin' surname, including dozens of security personnel present. The Nordlin family was thus completely exterminated. Based on descriptions from those at the scene, a gunman who had never appeared before was pieced together, and..."

"this."

He pointed to the wooden plaque in Ryan's hand, "The Red One, also known as 'The Red Death'."

The small wooden sign seemed to turn into a blazing ember in an instant, and Ryan flung it away violently.

“That charlatan! I’m going to tell him that the Chedell family is not a place for a nobody like him to mess with! He’ll pay the price!” Ryan’s voice was still angry, but it didn’t seem as strong as before.

In front of the onlookers, he suddenly waved his hand and shouted, "From now on, double the patrol force and double the security measures! I'll get the Pinkerton detectives involved, and offer even more bounties: $1000 for Red and $500 for Mike! Lay a tight net and drag these two bastards out of here—!!"

----

At the same time, at the Cheddar family estate.

The deployment of a large number of security forces to the town meant that security at the manor would be weakened. Zhang Renfeng easily climbed over the fence and landed. The manor itself covered a considerable area, yet it only had a few patrol guards.

Actually, there are at least twenty or thirty security personnel here, which is not a small number, but compared to this huge manor, it still falls short.

Extremely luxurious large houses are prone to this problem.

Taking advantage of the fact that no one was around, he moved like a hunting leopard, quickly approaching from behind, stretching out his arms, grabbing the neck, and exerting force.

With a snap, the neck of a security guard was broken!

Zhang Renfeng understood perfectly: from the moment he chose to kill Colin, it was a war to the death. There was no doubt that everyone in this house would turn on him. If he acted now, perhaps one less bullet would be fired at him in the future.

He dragged the body into the bushes, stripped off his clothes, put on his weapon, and successfully blended into the security team. Of course, his face was still too conspicuous here. Therefore, he pulled his hat brim low, almost covering his entire face, trying to avoid eye contact with others. Everyone was just there for a paycheck, and generally wasn't in the mood for idle chatter.

As expected, news of Colin's death had reached the house. His body, hanging from the church spire, added a layer of mystery to the story, and few dared to discuss it.

"Wine cellar, wine cellar..."

After walking around the house, he finally found the entrance to the wine cellar. Contrary to his expectations, the entrance was tightly locked by two wooden doors. He stood on the doors and tried to shake them, but they didn't budge. Judging from the echo, the space below the wine cellar was quite large.

Even if they force their way in, it won't be a quick exploration, and if the damage to the wooden door is discovered, they'll be trapped underground and face a dead end.

“This isn’t a job one person can do,” Zhang Renfeng immediately concluded.

He had originally planned to scout the location in the morning, then, under cover of darkness, ransack the vault beneath the wine cellar and take all the valuables inside. Now it seems the risk was too great.

We'll need at least one locksmith, one lookout, and one more providing support from a distance. If things go wrong, provide covering fire and retreat immediately; only then will we have a chance.

The image of old Mike appeared before his eyes. He liked the old man very much; when facing him, Mike showed a lot of subtlety. In addition, with his many years of experience, he was definitely the best choice if he needed a lookout.

But where can we find the remaining locksmiths?

Zhang Renfeng is a strange man. If asked to go on a killing spree, he won't hesitate for a second. But for tasks like picking locks and entering, he won't act rashly without thorough preparation.

----

"Damn it, a bunch of useless trash! What good are they besides saying 'I can't do it'? If I'd known it would turn out like this, I would have given the money to the Pinkerton Detectives; at least they were more professional. A mere Red Center scared them to death; they're all idiots!"

This was the first time Zhang Renfeng had met Ryan, an angry, irritable, and outspoken old man. He was riding a horse, surrounded by servants, and complaining incessantly to a man dressed as a steward.

"As long as the bounty is high enough, someone will always come looking for him. If they can't find him once, they'll try ten times, and if they can't find him ten times, they'll try a hundred times! Does that guy think that just because he caused some trouble in the south, he can run rampant in this land? Becca, I'll show him who's in charge in the whole of New Elizabeth!"

"Send word that if we can't find him for now, we'll look for Mike first. Everyone will know what happens to those who dare to defy the Chedell family!"

……

Back in his own home, surrounded by guns, security, and a lavish estate, Ryan gradually put his son's tragic death behind him and transformed back into the all-powerful, influential business tycoon he once was.

He never imagined that just as he was spouting his nonsense...

They've already narrowly missed each other.

Chapter 11: Enjoy Your Time Alone

In the grocery store, Chuck deliberately did mundane chores like wiping the shelves, just to hear more gossip.

Today, everything else seemed insignificant except for that earth-shattering news. People talked about Colin's death with fear on their faces. The wanted poster was quickly issued from the Windblown Sands police station, and as the hitman had predicted, it didn't mention him, this nobody. Chuck wiped the shelves spotless again and again, but still refused to go back to his room.

For him, each time he heard Colin's tragic story from a different person, he felt a surge of pleasure. He wanted to tell his parents, to tell everyone, immediately that he was the last person to see Colin before he died, that Colin died to pay for his sister's life, and that he wanted everyone to know this.

But, no.

To suppress this secret deep within oneself, to act as if nothing is wrong, and to listen to people talk about it is like secretly masturbating in public without being discovered.

Chuck became addicted to the thrill and couldn't tear himself away.

His father didn't talk to him about it, perhaps because he hadn't recovered from the shock and was still being pulled aside for questioning by the town's police from time to time. It wasn't just him; every household in the town was questioned. So, the shop was naturally left to him to manage.

"Calm down, calm down, it's not over yet," he reminded himself silently. "For the rest of my life, I can savor this feeling every single day!"

"Hello, what can I do for you?" he asked with a smile as the customer walked in.

----

Judging from his expression, Mesalia was almost certain that he did not recognize her.

She deliberately chose the time when the grocery store was least crowded, at 1:30 pm, to make her visit. She had changed into a velvet light blue dress, let her chestnut hair fall to her shoulders, and wore a ladylike lace feather hat with a pretty feather stuck in the brim—almost exactly the same outfit as the night before.

However, this is normal.

Last night in front of the church, she heard the sound of hooves first before turning her head, giving her more time to observe; Chuck, on the other hand, was riding hurriedly, only noticing someone when he got close, giving him less than a second. Furthermore, he was already in a state of confusion, so he simply sped past Mesalia without stopping.

Her eyesight was excellent; she could even see spiderwebs dangling between the wooden planks of the roof beams. Her father had often remarked that if she hadn't been a girl, she probably would have followed in his footsteps, taking up shooting and becoming a proud new Elizabeth State Mounted Police officer.

Her gaze inadvertently swept over Chuck, catching his dark circles and his messy, bird's-nest-like hair. All the clues led her to her deduction—last night's events were inextricably linked to the grocery store owner's son.

So, could he be the "Red Center" on the wanted list?

"Although I don't know who did it, this is great." She casually picked out a bar of chocolates, took it to the counter to pay, and said tentatively, "Now Gina can rest easy."

She carefully observed Chuck's reaction, and as expected, she caught a fleeting glimpse of pleasure in his eyes.

“Yes, you all know, that guy did Gina to…” He shrugged, deliberately controlling his facial expression, hiding his glee well, and said in a lukewarm tone, “Perhaps God punished him by hanging him on the cross.”

Chuck acted very well, without revealing a single flaw. His tone and expression made him seem like someone completely unrelated to the matter.

Unfortunately, he was too young and did not understand the principle of moderation.

Messalia's gaze swept quickly over him, finally settling on his boots—the uppers were stained with mud and had a few blades of grass on them, appearing very fresh. Why would a grocer's son have grass on his boots? Unless he wasn't in town last night, but had gone to the grasslands… perhaps that was the primary crime scene.

The vast grasslands are perfect for murder and body disposal.

But the body wasn't dumped in the grass; instead, it reappeared prominently on the cross atop the church steeple overnight. And when he saw him last night, the horse was empty, not carrying the body. In other words, at least one companion was with him.

Wait a moment……

horseback?

Mesalia suddenly understood, as if an electric current had passed through her mind. She finally realized where this sense of unease that had been bothering her came from.

I only caught a fleeting glimpse of the horse he rode last night; I couldn't make out its size, but it was probably a Shire or some kind of packhorse. Of course, that's not important. What's important is that when Chuck rode it, the horse's back was so bare—there wasn't even a saddle! That's quite unusual!

For safety and comfort, riders will always wear saddles, stirrups, and other auxiliary equipment to better control the horse.

Moreover, riding a horse without a saddle while traveling at night would undoubtedly increase the danger level dramatically, but he still did it. Why?

The plausible answer is that he didn't have time to saddle the horse; everything happened so suddenly that he had to use this packhorse as a temporary mount. He didn't see the black horse in front of the general store, so it must have been borrowed from the stables.

It was the dead of night, and the main gate of the stables was closed; all the employees had gone home to sleep.

Only that strange foreigner lived in the small thatched hut next door, day and night!

……

“…Miss, Miss?” Chuck’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Is there anything else you need?”

Looking around, only a minute had passed, and sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the window, illuminating the dust rising from the cracks in the floor.

In this small, confined space, time seems to move very slowly.

“I got what I wanted, thank you.” Mesalia put the chocolate bar away and gave him a sweet smile. “Enjoy your time alone, Chuck.”

She pushed open the door and left, making up her mind, heading towards the stables.