Blown to Bits

Chapter 17: Blown to Bits

"There's more!"

The voice rang out again.

Bald Sanpao's eyes shifted. Gritting his teeth, he pulled another gun from his person and tossed it far away.

Just then, the voice spoke again: "Bald Sanpao, I know you're playing tricks. Everyone knows your fame with Dual Guns, but I know you've got a Third Gun. Toss that one out too, or I'll blow your head off right now and still collect the money. Your life's done for."

Bald Sanpao's face twisted. He'd never planned to surrender quietly from the start—he'd schemed to trick the other man into showing himself, confident he could take him out. But now, it was clear the man hadn't fallen for it; instead, he'd turned the tables.

Bald Sanpao ground his teeth, his expression shifting between rage and uncertainty.

"Heh, if you don't hand it over now, I'll shoot you dead on the spot. No chance to change your mind, Bald Sanpao." Jiang Hao's voice carried a mocking edge.

The hatred burning in Bald Sanpao's chest was fierce, but it was too late. His scheme had failed, leaving him helpless.

He fumbled in his crotch and pulled out a short pistol, dropping it at his feet.

"Bang!"

A sudden gunshot made Bald Sanpao flinch. He thought he was being shot at, and a cold sweat broke out over his skin.

"Bald Sanpao, still trying to pull one over on me? Kick it farther away." Jiang Hao's voice cut through again.

Bald Sanpao knew his little trick had been seen through. The last shred of hope vanished. He kicked the ground, sending the pistol skittering far off.

"Brother, is that good enough now?" Bald Sanpao spread his hands, putting on a show of being clean and carefree.

Zhuangzi said: 'Caution catches the cicada of a thousand autumns; care steers the ship of ten thousand years.' Jiang Hao firmly believed in this principle—the closer to the end, the more careful you had to be.

"Now, do as I say. Lie face down on the ground."

With no other choice, Bald Sanpao obeyed, dropping to the dirt.

"Put both hands on your head."

Bald Sanpao complied.

"Cross your left ankle over your right."

He did it again, the position awkward and uncomfortable. His face pressed into the earth, and each breath kicked up dust that choked him.

Only then did Jiang Hao stand up, gun raised, eyes locked on Bald Sanpao. He slowly descended the slope, moving to where the pistols lay. Two Box Cannons—and hell, that last one was a Colt M1911. For a bandit to have such a fine piece was rare.

Who knew how much trouble the bastard had gone through to get it.

He picked up all three guns, slung the long rifle over his back, tucked the two short ones into his satchel, and kept one Box Cannon in hand. Jiang Hao carefully checked the gun—full magazine. This one Bald Sanpao hadn't used yet. He pulled the bolt and fired a shot; the casing flew far. A good gun. Only then did he approach Bald Sanpao.

Looking down at the man with his face buried in the dirt—this notorious bandit of a hundred miles around—he probably never imagined he'd end up here.

"Stand up." Jiang Hao's voice was low.

Bald Sanpao struggled to his feet, his right hand clutching the wound on his left shoulder. He sized up Jiang Hao, a burly, bald man like himself, and said, "Friend, is there some misunderstanding here? If I've offended you before, I'll apologize first."

"Which path do you walk, friend? I've got plenty of connections across the rivers and lakes—maybe we're tied somehow."

Bald Sanpao's words were steeped in gangland talk, trying to feel Jiang Hao out. But Jiang Hao wasn't buying it.

"Enough chatter. I'm not on your path. Move—to the Butcher Shop."

Two of Bald Sanpao's men lay dead by the roadside. Their three horses, spooked at first, had calmed down and were now grazing on sparse, low weeds nearby.

But Jiang Hao couldn't ride, so he left them there, forcing Bald Sanpao forward on foot.

The ambush spot was about three or four li from the Butcher Shop. After a short walk, they saw the roadside shack—a few lonely mud-brick rooms, with ox skulls hanging by the door, pale and eerie. At night, it would've been downright creepy.

At the door, Bald Sanpao glanced back at Jiang Hao, gun still trained on him.

"Inside." Jiang Hao's voice was firm.

The door swung open. Inside were an Old Man and a Helper. The moment they saw Bald Sanpao, they called out, "The Chief is here!"

But then they noticed the blood all over Bald Sanpao and the gun-wielding Jiang Hao behind him, and they fell silent, too scared to speak.

Jiang Hao scanned the room. No sign of Jiu'er. He pointed his gun at the two meat workers and demanded, "Where's Jiu'er?"

"Who's Jiu'er?" the Old Man stammered.

"The woman you snatched the day before yesterday—the boss lady of the Shibali Slope Distillery." Jiang Hao's voice was hard.

Now Bald Sanpao understood. This bastard was after that woman. Regret flooded him. He'd checked—she had no backing, just a farm girl. Who knew she'd bring down such a demon?

The Old Man and Helper exchanged glances, then looked at Bald Sanpao. He roared, "What the hell are you looking at me for? Go!"

These two were part of the gang but only handled the meat and watched the hostages—not fighters. Scolded by Bald Sanpao, they hurriedly opened the side room.

Jiang Hao saw it: in the corner stood a crude wooden cage, waist-high, about two square meters. Inside, Jiu'er sat curled up, hair disheveled. A bowl with a few bones sat beside her. Hearing the noise, she looked up, her eyes full of terror.

At the sight, rage exploded in Jiang Hao.

"I'll fuck your mothers!"

He roared, yanking the short blunderbuss from his belt. He fired at the two Butcher Shop helpers. "Boom! Boom!" Two deafening blasts. The men were riddled with holes, collapsing by the meat pot, dead as could be.

He tossed the blunderbuss aside and kicked Bald Sanpao hard. Already wounded, bleeding heavily, and forced to walk miles, Bald Sanpao's body was limp. The kick sent him sprawling.

Jiang Hao grabbed a rope meant for tying livestock and quickly bound Bald Sanpao tight. Then he strode to the wooden cage.

Jiu'er stared blankly at Jiang Hao.

"Jiu'er, are you alright?" Jiang Hao asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

Jiu'er didn't speak, just fixed her gaze on him.

Jiang Hao yanked hard at the heavy iron lock on the wooden cage. It didn't budge. His eyes swept the area and landed on a cleaver used for splitting cow bones. He grabbed it and smashed it against the lock. With a sharp crack, the lock snapped. Jiang Hao opened the cage door.

"Jiu'er~~"

He called out, afraid she might have been scared witless.

"Waaah~~"

Jiu'er burst into tears, crawled out, and threw herself into Jiang Hao's arms. Her cries grew louder, a wretched, heart-wrenching sound. Jiang Hao, however, breathed a slight sigh of relief. Crying was good—as long as she could cry, there was no serious damage.

PS:

This book is officially signed. Scatter flowers in celebration. Da Yu asks for recommendation tickets, inclusion in book lists, and tips.

∠(｀ω*) Salute.