When that gleaming yellow pistol appeared among the pile of foam padding, everyone in the room froze.
Zhang Songyang was the first to snap out of it. He lunged forward and grabbed the gun.
The two bottles of Moutai he’d been promised had been swapped for a handgun. No need to guess—that Jiang Chuan must have sent it on purpose just to scare him.
What the hell was that kid thinking? He realized he couldn’t get his money back, so he pulled a stunt like this?
Dream on!
There was no way he was giving that money back. Even if he died right here, today, that money wasn’t getting returned!
But the gun was surprisingly heavy. He had no idea where that kid had gotten his hands on something like this—it looked incredibly realistic.
And as luck would have it, he was currently being threatened by these gangster types. Maybe waving this gun around would be enough to scare them off.
With that thought, he sprang to his feet in one swift move.
Gritting his teeth, he aimed the gun straight at the middle-aged man, putting on his fiercest expression and shouting, “Don’t move! You bastards, I’m done playing nice. If any of you have the guts, come at me! I swear to God, I’ll shoot every last one of you!”
He had to take the gamble. If he didn’t, he’d end up in the same nightmare he’d suffered in northern Myanmar—or even worse. Not only would that creep with the lecherous look do God-knows-what to him, but he’d definitely have his arms and legs broken too.
He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose his limbs, and he couldn’t bear to go through that kind of inhuman treatment.
Of course, he knew this gun wasn’t real—it couldn’t be. If it were, there’s no way the courier would have delivered it.
Besides, in that split second, he’d already figured out why Jiang Chuan had sent him this gun.
It was simple: the kid was trying to spook him with a super realistic replica, hoping to scare him into returning the money.
And since it was a very realistic replica, it probably still packed a bit of a punch.
The middle-aged man and the other young thugs, upon seeing Zhang Songyang point a gun at them, paused for a second—then burst into laughter.
“Did you see that? He’s got a gun! A real gun!” The middle-aged man’s laughter was so loud it seemed like he wanted the whole building to hear.
“That’s badass! You actually ordered a gun online. Damn, man, how about dropping the store name? I wanna buy one too.”
“Looking at that thing, it seems like a Desert Eagle. Didn’t those get discontinued ages ago? You actually managed to get one—impressive, really impressive.”
“Ooh, I’m so scared! Boss, am I gonna die? What if he accidentally fires it? We’d all be dead, right?”
“Nah, I think he’s the one who’d accidentally fire it. Wait—no, this kid’s giving you a hint. He wants you to take him to the bedroom so he can ‘clean his gun,’ if you know what I mean.”
“Ohhh, that’s what he meant! Why didn’t you just say so?”
The thugs kept joking around, and the perverted one started walking forward—but before he could even reach Zhang Songyang—
Zhang Songyang thrust the gun forward. “I told you, don’t move! Take one more step and I’ll shoot!”
The young thug paused, then smirked. “Look, if you wanna play around, fine. But why pull out a gun? You’re scaring us! And hey, if you’re gonna shoot, you might wanna take the safety off first.”
The group erupted in laughter, their mocking looks obvious.
Zhang Songyang glanced down and realized the safety was still on. He clicked it off without hesitation, then aimed back at the thug. “Take one more step, and I’ll blow your head off!”
“Ooh, I’m so scared!” The perverted thug cackled, completely unimpressed. He even tapped his own forehead and taunted, “Go ahead—shoot right here. You got the guts? Or do you want me to help you?”
“Argh! Screw you! I’ll kill you!” Driven to the edge, Zhang Songyang’s eyes were bloodshot. He squeezed the trigger and squeezed his eyes shut at the same time.
BANG!
A deafening gunshot rang out. The muzzle jerked involuntarily, and the bullet tore through the air, grazing the perverted thug’s arm before smashing straight into the LCD TV screen behind him.
A large hole formed in the center of the screen, with spiderweb cracks spreading out in every direction.
Pieces of the shattered TV started flying off in all directions.
The massive recoil sent Zhang Songyang stumbling backward, slamming him—and the perverted thug he was backed up against—right into the wall.
By now, everyone in the room was experiencing varying degrees of ringing in their ears.
Firing a gun in an enclosed space like that, the piercing blast had briefly ruptured their eardrums, leaving them all completely disoriented.
…
At the very moment the gunshot went off, every resident in the building who was home heard it. But nobody paid it much mind—they just figured they’d misheard, or that it was some small appliance exploding.
After all, this was Jiuzhou, not the land of the free where gunshots were an everyday occurrence.
…
His arms were numb, his fingers trembling, the ringing in his ears unbearable, and his mind was spinning.
Zhang Songyang let the Desert Eagle drop from his hand, clutched his head, and slowly crouched down. His pupils were shaking uncontrollably, his insides churning like a stormy sea.
This was… a real gun?
Yeah, it seemed like it was.
The deafening blast, the completely destroyed TV, the terrifying recoil, and his still-tingling arms—all of it pointed to one thing: the gun he’d just been holding was the real deal.
But how was that possible?!
This package had come from Jiang Chuan. How could he possibly have gotten his hands on a real gun? And how did he get it delivered?
This was a real firearm! These days, every courier or delivery service inspected packages. If it was a real gun, there’s no way they’d have delivered it!
Wait a minute… The guy who’d dropped off the box—he was built like a tank, his delivery uniform looked a little small and didn’t fit right, and most importantly, he didn’t look like a good guy at all. He didn’t seem anything like a real courier!
So that meant…
That delivery guy was in cahoots with Jiang Chuan?
Had Jiang Chuan ordered him to deliver this gun?
But… what was Jiang Chuan’s goal in sending this to him?
Thump.
Just then, he saw the perverted thug in front of him—his face was a mask of sheer terror, and he’d collapsed to the floor, legs trembling uncontrollably, a dark wet patch spreading between them.
He was shaking all over as he stared at Zhang Songyang, completely petrified.
Behind him, the middle-aged man and the remaining young thugs all turned in unison to stare at the shattered TV screen behind them.
Judging by the extent of the damage, that bullet had packed some serious punch.
To put it simply—if that bullet had hit a person’s body instead of a TV screen… it would have been absolutely horrific.
Then they slowly turned back to look at Zhang Songyang. The mockery and ridicule that had been in their eyes before was gone, replaced by something else entirely—a deep, indescribable fear.
After all, none of them had expected that the gun in Zhang Songyang’s hands would actually be real.
And not only that—he’d actually fired it!
That bullet had grazed right past the perverted thug and blasted straight into the TV screen.
