Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

Heixiazi Gully, north slope.

A deathly silence.

The thirty-odd people who were just shouting that they would "beat Zhao Shanhe to death" are now as silent as roosters with their necks being choked.

Only the howling sound of the cold wind swirling snowflakes could be heard.

Those fifteen dark gun muzzles exuded a suffocating aura of death.

In this era, the Type 56 semi-automatic rifle was a devastating blow to these road thugs wielding shotguns and pickaxe handles.

Standing on the big rock, Uncle Wang's calves were twisting so hard they looked like they were about to get knotted in his trousers.

He stared at the row of militiamen, their expressions cold and expressionless, motionless like statues. His Adam's apple bobbed violently, and cold sweat streamed down his pockmarked face, instantly freezing into shards on his chin.

He wanted to say something assertive, after all, he was the boss, but his lips trembled like a telegraph machine, and he couldn't manage to string together a single coherent sentence:

"Zhao...Zhao Shanhe...you...you're mobilizing the militia without authorization...you're breaking the law..."

Looking at his cowardly and blustering appearance, Zhao Shanhe's mockery deepened.

He didn't respond to what Master Wang was saying at all, and didn't even bother to argue with him about the law.

Zhao Shanhe put the freshly lit cigarette in his mouth, held up three fingers, and spoke in a low voice, yet it carried a chilling aura that could freeze one to the bone:

"Stop talking nonsense."

"Three seconds."

"I'll only give you three seconds."

Zhao Shanhe's gaze was like a knife, sweeping across the faces of everyone present:

"Everyone, throw down what you're holding! Hands up! Hands behind your heads, squat down!"

At this point, he narrowed his eyes and added a chillingly menacing remark:

"Three seconds from now, anyone who still dares to hold anything in their hand..."

"Whether you're holding a knife or your own manhood, I'll shoot it to pieces!!"

That's a really harsh statement.

The sound sent a chill down the spines of these grown men, as if someone had stuffed a handful of ice shards into their crotches.

Zhao Shanhe gave them no time to react, suddenly raising a finger and shouting:

"one!!!"

This roar was like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

Those hooligans are good at bullying honest people, but they've never seen a real, deadly battle like this.

Seeing that row of gun barrels that could spew fire at any moment, they were terrified.

"Oh my god!"

I don't know who started it, but the pickaxe handle in their hand was thrown to the ground with a "clang".

But there were a few hotheads in this group who, relying on their numbers, still gripped their sickles tightly, their eyes darting around, seemingly still betting that Zhao Shanhe wouldn't actually fire.

Zhao Shanhe gave a cold laugh.

He didn't turn around, but slowly raised his second finger, his voice instantly rising an octave, filled with intense killing intent:

"two!!!"

The moment that word was uttered.

"Snap—!!!"

No commands were given.

There was no warning whatsoever.

Behind Zhao Shanhe, the fifteen militiamen, standing like statues, seemed to share his sentiments.

The instant the word "two" was uttered, fifteen hands simultaneously pulled the bolts!

Their movements were perfectly synchronized, and the sounds were crisp and piercing!

The resounding clang of metal clashing echoed through the silent valley, more terrifying than a gunshot!

What is this?

This is absolute obedience! It's a killing machine that obeys every command!

Those hotheads who still wanted to take a gamble were scared out of their wits by the synchronized "loading sound".

My psychological defenses collapsed instantly!

"three!!"

Before Zhao Shanhe could utter the last word...

"Splashing and clattering—"

A series of loud noises rang out on the north slope of Heixiazi Gully.

Double-barreled shotguns, shovels, sickles, and pickaxe handles were thrown into the air, clattering loudly as they hit the frozen ground.

The "Wang Family Army," which had just been fierce and menacing, ready to tear Zhao Shanhe to pieces, now resembled a flock of frightened quails.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

More than thirty grown men knelt neatly in the snow.

Some people felt they weren't kneeling fast enough, so they buried their heads deep in their crotches, clutching the back of their heads tightly with both hands, sticking their buttocks up high, as if afraid that the living devil wouldn't see their sincerity and would actually shoot their thing to pieces.

It didn't even take three seconds.

With just one click of the cocking barrel, the outcome was decided.

The only sounds at the scene, besides the wind, were the chattering of the group's teeth.

Even the most arrogant Third Master Wang had already thrown down his hunting rifle, slid off the rock, and knelt trembling at the front, his face buried in the snow like a dead dog.

Zhao Shanhe coldly watched this scene, slung the still-smoking rifle over his shoulder, took a deep drag of his cigarette, and exhaled a thick cloud of white smoke.

He strode forward, his leather boots crunching through the snow, and walked to Wang Sanye, who was kneeling at the front.

"puff!"

Zhao Shanhe raised his foot and stepped on Wang Sanye's protruding back, grinding it hard as if he were stomping out a cigarette butt.

Old Master Wang groaned, his face buried in the snow, his mouth full of ice shards, but he didn't dare to move an inch.

Zhao Shanhe looked down at him, his voice icy:

"Weren't you just going to make me crawl between your legs?"

"What? Don't you find the ground cold now?"

Old Master Wang struggled to pull his face out of the snow, his face covered in snot and tears. Gone was any of his former bossly demeanor; he begged for mercy with a mournful expression.

"Mr. Zhao... Mr. Zhao... I was blind to your greatness... I was so foolish..."

"Please, don't hold a grudge against me, just let it go like a fart..."

"Release them?"

Zhao Shanhe sneered, squatted down, and patted Wang Sanye's face with the scalding hot gun barrel, making Wang Sanye shudder.

"Dream on."

Zhao Shanhe stood up, pointed to the truck behind him that was stuck in a ditch and had its axle damaged, and then pointed to the road that had been dug up:

"My car broke down, my road was blocked, and my brother was injured."

"We need to settle this score carefully."

Zhao Shanhe flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and roared:

"All of you, stand up, fucking!"

"Take off your coat!!"

That shout stunned everyone.

Take off your coat? In this minus thirty degrees Celsius weather?

Seeing the crowd hesitate, the militiamen behind Zhao Shanhe didn't waste any words and immediately raised their guns, as if to smash them.

"Take it off! I'll take it off!"

Old Master Wang was the first to react, and he shakily ripped off his dog-skin coat.

The others didn't dare to slack off either. They stood shirtless or wearing only a single layer of clothing, shivering in the cold wind, like plucked chickens.

Zhao Shanhe pointed at the stuck truck, his eyes filled with malice:

"You dug the pit, you drove the car into it."

"If this car can't get out tonight, this road won't be able to be repaired..."

"You lot, every single one of you, you'll all have to fill in these potholes and serve as roadbeds!! Do you understand?!"