Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

He dared not be careless. After lying down, he immediately began to crawl forward as fast as he could. Sure enough, almost instantly, several bullets, as if they had eyes, burrowed through the gap between the chair backs and hit the spot where he had just been lying down.

Twenty years ago, he was just a "superb" sharpshooter.

However, twenty years later, Jack's control over every bullet that left his barrel had reached an unparalleled level. Every shot he fired had its own purpose.

For the first time, Mike felt so suffocated, as if how long he could live depended entirely on when the other party would get completely bored and start getting serious.

This is the significance of a nationwide warrant for arrest in America!

"Hell..."

He suppressed his bullets, gritting his teeth, but still couldn't find an opportunity to break through—his opponent understood the importance of combat rhythm, suppressing his rhythm with one close-range bullet after another through the cover, making Mike feel that "he would be killed the moment he showed his head."

"Are you waiting for me to run out of bullets? It's no use, Elan." On the other side, Jack walked off the stage with ease, still maintaining suppressive fire. "I told you long ago, don't just pick fights with anyone. You don't have the talent of Lu."

“In a cowboy duel, you have to process so much information in those few seconds of confrontation. The more you try to think about it, the more confused you become. You can only win by relying entirely on your reflexes and intuition.”

"You were better suited to sit in command and direct other gunmen to withstand an attack by ten or a hundred times your number. Unfortunately... that opportunity will never come again."

“I did everything I could, Elaine, and I have a clear conscience.”

Jack wouldn't let his gun stop for even a moment; he could multitask, firing while simultaneously reloading with his nimble fingers. When he reached the cover where Mike was hiding, both revolvers were still fully loaded.

"When you go to hell, or anywhere else, if you see our old friends, remember to pass on a message for me..."

“I miss them so much, really, I miss them from the bottom of my heart, and I miss our old days.”

He suddenly lurched to the side, raising his two pistols. "Unfortunately, everything is irreversible!"

What came towards them was a gleaming dagger.

Jack's expression changed, and he turned his gun around!

"when!"

Sparks flew as a shot deflected the throwing knife mid-air, narrowly missing his cheek.

In an instant, he understood Mike's intention: to use the fast-moving object to draw some of his attention. And he did succeed; at this distance, a headshot with a throwing knife would be certain death, so he had no choice but to fire.

At least, in that brief moment, with some of my attention diverted, I was on the same level as the microphone in front of me.

The two of them made the exact same movements, just like reflections in a mirror.

sideways.

Pounce.

roll.

shot!

……

"boom!"

"boom!"

"boom!"

"boom!"

"boom!"

……

The gunfire was in a straight line, almost skimming the ground, whistling past the two men. Both employed identical basic skills, rolling as they fired to maximize the difficulty of being hit. They fired at each other through the closely spaced chair legs, the vast majority of bullets embedding themselves in the wood; after a round, neither had managed to hit the other.

Mike's expression darkened, but after a roll, he quickly got up and reached for the third gun hidden in his boot.

"boom!!"

As he maintained this position, a bullet came from the front, piercing his right hand and leaving a hole in his palm.

……

Mike froze for a moment, looking at his deformed fingers in disbelief. In his mind's eye, it felt like a long time had passed, but in reality, it was only a few seconds. The pain had spread throughout his body like a virus.

"ah-----!!"

He clutched his hand, his forehead covered in sweat, and cried out in pain.

“A third gun hidden inside the boot, right? Too bad… I taught you that trick too.” Jack shrugged. “You’re too rigid, Elan. You should have curled up your right leg while rolling to pull out that gun, just like I did.”

"..." His palm was completely pierced, and Mike was in so much pain that he almost fainted and couldn't say anything.

Jack's eyes held a hint of reluctance, and a complex mix of emotions flickered within them.

But soon, it vanished without a trace.

“When you drew your gun on me, you must have expected this outcome.” He slowly pressed the hammer down, aiming it at Mike’s head. “Don’t worry, Elan, it’ll be alright. I’ll make you…”

"To be freed from suffering."

----

"boom!"

"when----!!"

The bullet, having just left the barrel, was struck by a small pebble that suddenly appeared. Sparks flew, and the bullet changed direction, veering off course by about one centimeter.

……

Jack's expression hardened, and he turned around to see Lu Aniu sitting cross-legged on the stage, his face grim and the blood on his body still wet.

Behind him, the stranger stood there like a silent stone statue.

The unconscious Theon was carried on his shoulder with one hand, like a hunter carrying his prey.

"Shouldn't we kill him?" Jack asked suspiciously. "These people are in cahoots with Hong Zhong, aren't they?"

“…There’s no need for that.” Lu Aniu shook his head. “Lock him up first.”

"When Jiang Taigong fished, he used a straight hook, but he always had to put some bait on the hook."

Chapter 822: Zhang Renfeng, Zhang Renfeng; his armor is stained red with blood!

"..."

"..."

"?!!"

Sam gasped, his eyes snapping open, his mouth agape, but no sound came out. He instinctively tried to tilt his head back, but found that apart from his eyes, no part of his body could move. Even his head felt like a machine with a stone stuck in it, turning extremely slowly, each thought causing a sharp pain in his brain.

It took him a long time to figure out what had just happened.

He died.

Just as he was happily heading out with a stack of manuscripts in his arms, a force suddenly struck a spot on the back of his head. His heartbeat and breathing abruptly stopped, his vision went black, his legs went weak and powerless, and he collapsed face down, slamming hard onto the cold ground.

After a person dies, the sense of hearing is the slowest to disappear; in fact, the person still hears some of what happens afterward.

However, as his brain gradually lost its ability to think, Sam could no longer understand what he was hearing. He fell into bottomless darkness, falling and falling... an endless fall, until he himself began to doubt his own existence, and then he truly began to slowly dissipate.

Until now, another powerful force pulled him onto this cage-like body, causing him to open his eyes again.

Heaven?

hell?

His eyes darted around, and he saw that his face was covered with countless silver needles, which terrified him.

He strained to look down and saw that every visible part of his body was covered in the same needles. He was instantly horrified, his blood running cold. He immediately realized he must have arrived in hell; otherwise, why would he have to suffer so much?!

……

"Clang!"

The sound of coins falling on the table.

The sound drew Sam's attention. He strained his eyes to look in that direction—an old, thin man with a star-shaped scar on his neck and silver hair was lighting candles and performing a strange ritual. He placed three coins in his palms, muttered incantations, shook them a few times, and then tossed them onto the table.

After performing this action once, he would take a piece of paper and draw a horizontal line, sometimes two horizontal lines.

On his desk were other things—a handful of divination sticks, tortoise shells, and several thick calendars. He was writing furiously at his desk, giving Sam the impression of a mathematician, desperately trying to solve a difficult problem.

Brush brush!

Brush brush!

The pen moves the dragon and the snake.

It was already dark outside the window, and in the candlelight, his silver hair was stirred by the night breeze, fluttering slightly.

Sam had never actually seen Lu Aniu's face, so he naturally didn't know that the man before him was the absolute force guarantee of the Illuminati. But just from his aura, he could tell that this was the man who had pulled Sophia and himself back from the clutches of death.

Of course, there's no need to dwell too much on how you met your death...

----

"what……"

"Ha! Haha! Hahahaha..."

"Hahahahaha————!!"

As if he had finally solved the problem, he suddenly froze, then put down his pen and burst into wild laughter.

His laughter was so loud it almost shook the roof beams. Sam could feel the silver needles embedded in his body vibrating, causing him to grimace in pain, but also making him feel much more awake.

"I tried my best to solve problems every day, but I never expected the result to be like this..."

He shook his head with a laugh, but when he ran out of energy, he began to pace around the corner of the room, muttering to himself in a language that Sam couldn't understand at all.

"Zhang Renfeng, Zhang Renfeng."

"His armor was stained crimson with blood!"

"Wine poured under the stars, drunken swords and bows."

"All people are of the same surname, and the sea is filled with harmony."

He walked back and forth in the four corners of the room with his hands behind his back, muttering to himself.

"Zhang Renfeng, Zhang Renfeng."

"The city collapses like a jar, the building is infested with termites."

"Have you not seen the rise and fall of the newly rich?"

"A hundred years later... all for nothing, ha... hahahahahahahaha—!!"

Even if you possess unparalleled bravery, what then? Can you change the world... can you change people's hearts?

……

"you're awake."

The sudden language switch caught Sam off guard. The old man who had been in the corner just moments before seemed to be right in front of him in the blink of an eye. The oppressive feeling was overwhelming; Sam felt as if those black eyes could see right through him, and the hairs on his body stood on end.

The old man pulled out the silver needles that were pinned to his face, one by one.

"I... I can talk? I... Ah!!!" Sam was surprised to find that some of his bodily functions seemed to have returned as well.

But before he could even feel happy, a sharp headache struck, making him scream in pain. To put it another way, it felt like someone was hammering his temples with a small hammer, the pain so intense it felt like his head was being split in two!

He couldn't bear it any longer and tried to cover his head with his hands, but his arm, which was covered with silver needles, was paralyzed and completely immobile.

“You are currently in a state of ‘resurrection,’ on the verge of death, and your body is too weak. If we don’t use silver needles to lock your acupoints, this little bit of energy will soon leak away, and then you can just wait to die.” Lu Aniu dragged a chair over and sat down next to him, saying expressionlessly, “Don’t shout, don’t open your mouth, opening your mouth will dissipate your spirit.”

"Listen carefully to what I ask. If it's yes, nod; if it's no, shake your head. Understand?"

"..." Sam quickly nodded.

----

"Boom!"

The moment the wooden door was pushed open, Henderson's expression became extremely solemn.

For various reasons, he did not leave with Xiaomei and the others, but chose to stay here.

This meant that he would inevitably meet and interact with "Dad" sooner or later. For Henderson, this was a very risky conversation. He knew how terrifying Dad was; a single word or glance made him feel uneasy. Dad could kill him as easily as crushing a bug.

……