The Twenty-First Chapter

The guy who pulled out his pistol was also quite experienced. Thailand's public security had always been average, and those in this line of work had plenty of opportunities to handle and fire guns, even using them frequently in daily life. So, even though Bai Lang had killed four people in the blink of an eye, the guy who drew his pistol still had time to fire before he could get nervous. He aimed roughly at Bai Lang and opened fire. The distance was close, so there was no need for precise aiming—perhaps the man was trying to stall Bai Lang so he could escape.

In any case, the man was backing away while firing.

Bai Lang activated his internal energy for the Golden Bell Shield. Within these three to five meters, it was indeed unlikely for someone accustomed to using a pistol to miss—the space was limited, and there was no room for Bai Lang to dodge. The key was that the time it took him to kill the other three was enough for the man to open fire. As Bai Lang lunged at him, the man fired four shots; one missed, but the other three hit Bai Lang.

Two shots hit Bai Lang's left arm, which he had raised to protect himself, and one hit his shoulder. Bai Lang truly felt the power of the Golden Bell Shield. He couldn't immediately recognize the model of the gun the man was holding; it looked small and exquisite, but the bullets hit him with a definite impact and pain at this distance. The bullets broke his skin and pierced some of his muscle, but they were firmly stuck about three centimeters deep in the muscle. One of the two bullets that hit his arm struck bone and was simply lodged in it.

The shot to his shoulder was similar; the bullet was stuck in the bone and couldn't penetrate further. Not much blood flowed, and the wound itself seemed to be pressing against the bullet. The pain stimulated Bai Lang; a wounded tiger is even more deadly. The man didn't have time to fire his fifth shot because Bai Lang, carrying a scent of blood, had already lunged in front of him—not just the small amount of blood from his own gunshot wounds, but more from the bloodstains acquired when killing the three men on the sofa.

This time, Bai Lang's palm struck forward from top to bottom. This palm strike also had a name; in traditional martial arts, it was called the "Great Falling Monument Hand," a very powerful technique. And indeed, the result was that the man's entire upper body was smashed as if hit by a large stone monument, utterly destroyed. Only then did Bai Lang stop, slowly recovering his breath. His muscles twitched slightly with the movement of his internal energy, squeezing out the lodged bullets, which fell to the ground.

His footsteps stopped before the cowering, sole survivor. Bai Lang looked at him with a half-smile, "I recognize you, but I didn't expect you to be in charge this time?" Bai Lang had indeed seen this man before, scurrying around the high-ranking members of the organization, sometimes acting condescendingly and bossing around professional boxers like himself. Yet now, the man was cowering before Bai Lang, trembling and muttering to himself.

His accent was heavy, and Bai Lang could barely understand him, but it was nothing more than pleas for mercy. Bai Lang didn't waste words; his right hand, carrying a gust of bloody wind, grabbed down, directly snapping the man's cervical spine and severing his nerves, causing him to die quickly. "I didn't have much time anyway. From the moment I broke the window until now, with the sounds and the gunshots, even with Thailand's poor public security and corrupt police, they should arrive in about twenty minutes. It's time to leave."

Bai Lang hesitated for a moment by the pistols. "Should I take a gun?" He had enough time to change his clothes, as they were stained with blood. In the end, Bai Lang simply washed his hands, changed into clean clothes, and put a small pistol, which he finally recognized, into his bag before leaving. "It's quite stylish, a Walther PPK. No wonder the bullets' power was limited." The gun was small and exquisite, and Bai Lang took most of the bullets he found with it.

Bai Lang left through the room's door. None of the neighbors dared to peek out, so Bai Lang easily went downstairs and quickly left through the front entrance of the house. The police still hadn't arrived. Should he continue to kill those who ordered the pursuit? Bai Lang decided to think about it later.

He didn't know that the pistol's power was far greater than he imagined. Although it was a small and exquisite handgun, firing a 7.65mm pistol round, it had a very strong stopping power against unarmored targets. "Palm Thunder" was the nickname of this gun. The fact that he could get the bullets to lodge meant that the Golden Bell Shield's power was close to that of body armor. Bai Lang's martial arts were indeed top-notch in this world.

Six dead men, a major case even in Thailand. Yet they couldn't catch Bai Lang, and they didn't even know what he looked like—they couldn't even issue a wanted poster. Someone like Bai Lang, after using the Lightness Skill, could travel a hundred miles in a single night. Thailand's lower level of social surveillance further allowed Bai Lang to use public transportation freely to escape. On the morning of the third day, Bai Lang had already arrived in Bangkok, Thailand's largest city. "I should be able to find a way to sneak out of the country here—but where to go?"

"It's not a big deal if I don't sneak out. I can still practice martial arts here. As for money, I can just cause trouble for those involved in illegal businesses." Bai Lang thought. He quite liked the lively atmosphere here. Overall, Thailand gave him a better impression than Japan.

Having trained his martial arts to this level, he found it difficult to progress further in this world. His future training would only involve continuously refining his boxing techniques, striving to innovate under the current circumstances. At the very least, he needed to practice his skills to their absolute limit, internalize the Golden Bell Shield's energy circulation method into instinct, and integrate it into his daily movements and the Thirty-two Forms Long Fist, so he could practice martial arts discreetly even in his daily life.

Because apart from this, Bai Lang couldn't think of anything else to do. Of course, he could spend his remaining time in this world indulging in food, drink, and entertainment. If he did that, his chances of returning might be slim. Perhaps he wouldn't encounter a master who would casually take his life? In any case, if that day came and he felt he hadn't given his all, he would die with regret. Moreover, Bai Lang didn't want to die at all.

So, he would hide in Thailand. Given the standards of Southeast Asian countries, he was as stable as a mountain here. "That gambling syndicate probably won't come looking for me unless they want to die. And it's not that I'm underestimating them, but it would be almost impossible for them to find me." The police here were only so capable, let alone underworld connections. Thus, Bai Lang settled down in Bangkok. In addition to his daily training, he also wandered around temples. "My body seems to have stopped growing after reaching the first stage of the Golden Bell Shield?" With his martial arts reaching this level, Bai Lang's mastery over the subtle details of his body had greatly improved.

Bai Lang pondered this situation and found it quite normal. Perhaps the voice never intended for the holder to live long enough to find things after only a few uses.