1890: I'm in Hextech Brawl in America

Chapter 23 Is the person outside the door a fellow villager?

The corridor on the second floor is not very long, only a dozen meters long, and there are only three rooms on both sides, all with their doors open.

Fang Jianqiu stepped onto the soft carpet and did not check the other two rooms first. He listened carefully and found that the two rooms were quiet, without even the sound of breathing.

He casually turned the handle and closed both doors before heading straight to the largest room at the end of the corridor.

That was Hans's study, and also the place where that foreigner had just shouted.

Fang Jianqiu didn't foolishly stand at the main entrance.

He stood close to the wall, to the right of the door, his body pressed against the wallpaper, so that even if Hans desperately tried to shoot through the door, the bullets would only hit the empty corridor.

"Hans Keller? That's you, isn't it? Now that you've crawled out of the room yourself, I might consider letting you go. You'd better not make me go in myself."

Fang Jianqiu's voice was steady and calm, conveying an unquestionable authority.

Although he thought the cowardly foreigner wouldn't surrender easily, Fang Jianqiu still gave it a try.

If the fat guy gets scared out of his wits and rolls out on his own, it'll save him the trouble of doing anything else.

The room was silent for a few seconds, then Hans's trembling voice could be heard.

"Wait! Wait! Hey sir! Don't shoot! You want money, right? I have money! I have plenty of money!"

Upon hearing Fang Jianqiu's fluent and standard English, Hans subconsciously felt that the person outside the door was definitely not one of those piglets who couldn't even distinguish between "Yes" and "No".

He was convinced that this was a robber who came for money, and possibly even a ruthless bandit who had fled from the American West and was from his hometown!

Only a desperate criminal could possess such skill and courage.

"Listen, friend! I know the rules! Only I know the combination to the vault in this room! As long as you don't kill me, I'll give you all the US dollars and pounds inside! There are even gold bars!"

Hans's voice carried a hint of desperate flattery, as if he had grasped at a straw.

"Damn it, I'll give you as much as you want! And if you can calm down those hordes of pigs causing trouble outside, I'll give you even more! You can kill as many of these uncivilized barbarians as you like!"

While begging for mercy, Hans didn't forget to bring out his usual sense of superiority, as if this would bring him closer to the "fellow countryman robber" outside the door.

"Heh, this foreigner, he really is..."

Fang Jianqiu listened to the incoherent words inside the door, a mocking sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.

Even on the verge of death, they still haven't forgotten the arrogance and prejudice etched into their bones; they're hopeless.

He knew Hans had misunderstood, but he couldn't be bothered to explain.

Fang Jianqiu raised the Colt revolver in his hand, aiming the muzzle at the gold-plated doorknob.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two gunshots rang out, deafeningly loud.

At such close range, the powerful bullet shattered the door lock mechanism, leaving the door handle askew and exposing the latch inside.

A confused and terrified scream immediately came from the room:

"No! No! No! Why! Don't you want money?! Don't force me! Don't force me to fight you to the death!"

He couldn't understand why the robber wouldn't even give him a chance to negotiate and just tried to force his way in.

Fang Jianqiu merely chuckled mockingly, then suddenly raised his voice and shouted into the room:

"Charge in, brothers!!"

That shout was so powerful, it was as if a fully armed squad was really standing outside the door.

Before he could finish speaking, Fang Jianqiu suddenly kicked out.

"Bang!"

A powerful side kick slammed into the door. The oak door, whose lock had already been broken, flew open and crashed heavily against the wall.

At the same time, Fang Jianqiu forcefully swung his left hand.

The corpse he had been carrying was thrown into the house like a broken sandbag. The blood-stained body flew through the air, tracing an arc.

The sequence of shouting, kicking down the door, and throwing the body was incredibly fluid, leaving almost no room for thought.

Inside the room, Hans was holding his expensive Grenade double-barreled shotgun, the muzzle pointed firmly at the door, his nerves stretched to the limit.

Upon hearing the command "Charge in!" and seeing a dark figure fly in, Hans's mind had no time to discern what it was.

Driven by instinct, he pulled the trigger without thinking.

"Boom! Boom!"

Two loud explosions rang out almost simultaneously.

This Grenner shotgun uses newly popular smokeless powder and is extremely powerful.

A barrage of lead bullets erupted, blasting countless bloody holes into the flying corpse.

The corpse was jolted in mid-air by the blow, then veered off course and slammed heavily onto the nearby bookshelf, smashing a row of hardcover books to pieces.

Upon hearing the two gunshots that rang out almost without pause, Fang Jianqiu immediately recognized the weapon in the man's hand.

A double-barreled shotgun, once fired twice, is just a fire poker.

Without hesitation, he took a big step and rushed into the room in an instant.

The first thing you see is a chubby, fair-skinned man with brown hair and blue eyes, wearing silk pajamas, hiding behind a huge mahogany desk.

He was holding two red shotgun shells in his hand, frantically trying to stuff them into the smoking barrel.

But his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't insert the bullet, and one of them fell to the ground instead.

Without hesitation, Fang Jianqiu raised his hand and fired a shot.

"Bang!"

The bullet whistled out and struck Hans squarely in the left shoulder.

The shot went a little too far out; it only pierced through a layer of skin and flesh, taking away a piece of meat, but it didn't hit the bone.

But it was painful enough.

"Ah!"

Hans let out a pig-like scream; the excruciating pain made him unable to hold the gun any longer.

The expensive Grenadier shotgun slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor with a thud.

"So you're Hans. Not surprising."

Fang Jianqiu coldly stared at the pale, fat man in front of him who was writhing on the ground in pain.

It was the same "Grandpa White" who had appeared at the piglet shop a few days ago riding a tall white horse to pick up goods. At that time, Hans was high and mighty, casually waving a riding whip in his hand, and giving Fang Jianqiu superior comments.

But now, where is the composure and arrogance of "Grandpa White" in Hans?

He huddled in a corner of the desk, sweating profusely. His expensive silk pajamas were stained with dust and blood, and the fat on his face was contorted with pain and fear, making him look utterly hideous.

When Hans heard this Chinese sentence, he froze. He suddenly raised his head and stared intently at Fang Jianqiu.

By the light of the table lamp, he could see the face clearly.

It was a young, aloof Eastern face, resembling those of Chinese working in the sugarcane fields, yet also quite different.

"Wh...what? This is impossible!"

Such temperament and skill should not belong to an inferior race!

Hans's eyes widened, his lips trembled, and his gaze was filled with disbelief and terror.

This foreigner's appearance and speech were similar to that of Tom from before.

Even with the facts laid bare, they still couldn't accept that a Chinese laborer, considered an inferior race, could have driven them to such a desperate situation.

However, Hans, who was clutching his shoulder in pain, quickly realized what was happening.

The situation is clear now; no matter how impossible it seems, this person now holds his life in their hands.

He immediately changed his tune and began to cry and beg for mercy:

"What...what do you want? Good man! Friend! I'll give you anything you want! I have money! I have women! I can give you anything! I can give you everything! Don't kill me!"

"What I truly want is something you can't give me."

Fang Jianqiu said coldly in Chinese.

Hans couldn't understand Chinese; he just stared at him blankly, his eyes filled with fear and confusion.

Fang Jianqiu switched back to English, his tone icy:

Where can I find medicine around here?

He wasted no more time and got straight to the point: he still had a lot to do that night.

Unexpectedly, when Hans heard him say this, a glint of light flashed in his cunning little eyes, and a different idea arose in his mind.

If the other party wants medicine, it means someone is injured, and someone very important. This means that as long as he still has medicine, the other party will not dare to kill him easily.

This might be a bargaining chip!

"You want medicine? I have it, of course I have it, all kinds of medicine! The best medicine, painkillers, anti-inflammatory medicine, burn medicine, I have it all! But you have to let me go first and bandage my wounds..."

Hans, as if grasping at a straw, began to discuss the terms at breakneck speed.

"Bang!"

A gunshot rang out, interrupting his rambling.

Before he could finish speaking, Colt's bullet pierced through his intact right hand.

"Ah!"

It was the same old scream, even more agonizing than the one before.

Hans looked at the bloody hole in his hand, and tears and snot streamed down his face from the pain.

Now he had two holes in his arm at the same time, bleeding from his left shoulder and with a puncture in his right hand. For a moment, he didn't know which side to cover first.

"Last chance."

Fang Jianqiu just stared at him expressionlessly, mechanically turning the hammer in his hand.

"Click".

The sound of the hammer striking back was particularly jarring in the confined space, but the muzzle remained completely still.

This disregard for human life completely shattered Hans's psychological defenses; all his cunning and cleverness became meaningless in the face of death.

He collapsed to the ground, sobbing and stammering:

"On the first floor... in the kitchen on the first floor... there's a white cabinet... where the medicine is kept... Please, please let me go..."

Fang Jianqiu listened without any hesitation.

He quickly stepped forward and grabbed Hans by the collar.

This guy was so scared that he could barely walk on his own, like a lump of mud.

However, Fang Jianqiu had a physique enhanced by the Bright Sword technique, so dragging this 200-pound fat man with one hand wasn't too difficult for him.

Fang Jianqiu dragged Hans out of the room.

Hans's feet dragged weakly on the ground, and he kept muttering, "Don't kill me."

We arrived at the kitchen on the first floor.

It's a large place, filled with expensive kitchenware and ingredients.

Fang Jianqiu threw Hans to the ground.

"Point it out."

Hans shakily got up and pointed with his bleeding finger to a cabinet in the corner.

It was a wooden cabinet painted white, with an exquisite brass lock hanging on the door.

Fang Jianqiu walked over and kicked open the cabinet door.

Sure enough, inside were neatly arranged various bottles and jars, as well as bandages, alcohol, and surgical instruments.

Fang Jianqiu quickly scanned the area and recognized several familiar labels.

He stuffed all of these things into a medicine box he found nearby, which was about the size of two basketballs and was almost completely full.

Seeing that Fang Jianqiu had obtained the medicine, Hans thought he had a chance to live. He began kowtowing and begging for mercy again:

"You've got the medicine...please, let me go. I swear, I swear I'll never bother you again. I can even send you away from Hawaii, anywhere is fine with me..."

Fang Jianqiu, carrying a heavy medicine box, turned around and looked down at the fat man whose face was covered in blood.

There was no pity in his eyes, only an unfathomable chill.

"Let you go?"

Fang Jianqiu asked a question indifferently.

"When you begged for mercy, did you ever think about the children you tortured to death? Did they beg for mercy? Did you let them go?"

Hans's face turned deathly pale instantly.

"Have you ever thought about the people you casually tossed into the steamer? While they were screaming in agony in the scalding steam, were you still drinking red wine and smoking a cigar?"

Fang Jianqiu's voice grew colder and colder:

"Mr. Hans, I know your life is valuable, but in my eyes, it's not even worth a bit of sugarcane residue."

The Tianjin man looked around the kitchen and had an idea...