Amitabha Buddha

Thorndike instinctively leaned back, catching sight of the portrait on the table out of the corner of his eye.

The person in it looked so much like the man standing before him!

"Fire!"

Thorndike roared. He didn't care who this man was or how he'd gotten here.

There was no harm in shooting first.

Questioning a prisoner only worked when you had the upper hand.

Sure, they had more people, but if their opponent had dared to come here, he must have had something up his sleeve.

Kill the enemy first, think about it later.

At that moment, Thorndike was utterly decisive.

His bodyguards reacted just as quickly. Almost as soon as Thorndike shouted, they raised their guns and pulled the triggers.

Gunshots filled the entire space.

The "elevator shaft" was only a little wider than the lift itself.

There wasn't even an "elevator door."

There was nowhere to take cover.

If Thorndike or his bodyguards had reacted a moment more slowly,

Tang Luo could have left the cramped lift and entered the room, where there was enough space to dodge.

But now, with his opponents so decisive, Tang Luo had to face their flame-spitting muzzles and the bullets bursting from them head-on.

The bodyguards' revolvers were clearly much more advanced, using double-action mechanisms that allowed them to fire repeatedly.

Their rate of fire wasn't fast by modern standards.

But there were so many shooters.

The dense gunfire still sounded like a storm of bullets.

With nowhere to hide, Tang Luo raised his right hand against the oncoming storm of bullets.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and everything before him seemed to slow down.

Thorndike bending down, the bodyguards pulling their triggers, the flames shooting from their muzzles—

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Tang Luo pressed his right thumb against his index finger, aimed at a bullet flying toward him, and flicked it.

A sharp clang rang out.

The bullet seemed to have struck a solid steel wall. It crumpled and shattered.

The mangled bullet ricocheted into another one.

Another sharp clang rang out. The two bullets flew in different directions, and one struck yet another bullet.

Clink, clank.

The sharp clatter of metal and the sounds of bullets hitting the floor

mingled with the gunfire.

Thorndike and the others stared wide-eyed. All they could see

was the "intruder's" right hand turning into a blur before him as bullets kept getting knocked away and falling to the floor.

Some were even struck by "ricocheting" bullets and cried out in pain.

Then the gunfire abruptly stopped.

The final metallic clangs died away.

The room fell silent, save for the strained breathing of the two bodyguards who had been hit in the shoulder by ricocheting bullets.

Revolvers only held six bullets. After that, they had to be reloaded.

Even with special "speedloaders," the bodyguards couldn't reload quickly.

And they weren't coordinating with one another.

Everyone had fired without restraint, trying to kill the man before them.

So the lull came.

After the storm of bullets, their target was still standing unharmed.

Every one of them stood frozen, forgetting to reload.

Tang Luo held one fist up before him, obscuring their view so they still couldn't see his face.

His fist wasn't clenched tightly. It was loose, as if it held something.

With his palm facing down, Tang Luo opened his fingers.

The last few bullets he'd caught fell to the floor, joining the pile beneath him.

"Ah!"

The sound of bullets hitting the floor seemed to "wake" one of the men.

He shouted and raised his gun again—though he had no idea whether the cylinder was loaded.

"Bang!"

A gunshot rang out.

A bloody hole appeared in the exact center of the bodyguard's forehead. He collapsed, hitting the floor.

Tang Luo held out his left hand, the gun in it still trailing wisps of white smoke.

Tang Luo had a revolver of his own!

He'd never learned how to shoot.

But hitting a target with a gun came down to two things: first, aim accurately; second, keep your hand steady.

Tang Luo happened to have both.

When he fired, the muzzle didn't shift in the slightest.

At a certain distance, he was a sharpshooter who never missed.

Six shots rang out.

Six bodyguards who had tried to fight back fell.

Now the rest of them didn't dare move.

They could only aim their guns at Tang Luo, frozen in what looked like a standoff.

Thorndike had already ducked behind the other side of the round table. He stared at Tang Luo and asked, "Are you the one who's been targeting the organization?"

"Mm."

Tang Luo replied, then thought for a moment before saying, "You can call me the Punisher. I punish evil and uphold justice."

Thorndike sneered, making his contempt clear.

Punish evil and uphold justice?

This man had to be living in a dream.

But after sneering, Thorndike's expression darkened again.

The man living in a dream was now everyone's nightmare.

Had he blocked and caught the bullets with his bare hands?

Or was Thorndike the one dreaming?

Tang Luo lowered his head, took six bullets from his pocket, and unhurriedly loaded them into the cylinder before stepping out of the lift.

Thinking it over, punching someone in the head and smashing it apart

seemed a little too brutal, a little too demonic.

It didn't suit his identity as a monk.

Using a gun was much more discreet and peaceful.

As Tang Luo loaded the bullets, a shadow suddenly fell over him, dimming the light.

He looked up and saw a hulking man standing before him.

Over two meters tall, with a face full of thick folds.

He held a gleaming dagger in his right hand.

He was the only one who wasn't holding a gun.

He was also one of Thorndike's two personal bodyguards.

One of the bodyguards was good with guns.

This one was strong and powerful, invincible in close combat. Most importantly, he wasn't very bright.

Thorndike had trained and brainwashed him. He was utterly loyal and would never disobey any of Thorndike's orders.

Taking a bullet for him was nothing.

Just then, Tang Luo loaded the last bullet.

The hulking man gave Tang Luo an unbearably savage grin, then let the dagger fall to the floor.

He spread his arms and wrapped them around Tang Luo.

A beastlike growl came from his throat. The muscles in his arms bulged, and veins stood out.

His face quickly flushed, and his forehead was covered with bulging veins.

He was clearly using every ounce of his strength to squeeze Tang Luo to death.

He had strangled more than a few people to death in that crushing embrace.

Even after death, their bodies had twisted into grotesque shapes, becoming "unrecognizable."

But now, this was only the beginning.

As the man squeezed Tang Luo, gunfire erupted again.

At some point, a black revolver had appeared in Thorndike's hand.

He gripped it with both hands, aimed past the man at Tang Luo's head, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Few people knew that Count Thorndike was also a sharpshooter.

At the same time, the others pulled their triggers too.

They were only a fraction of a second behind Thorndike.

Thorndike would lead the attack, and they would finish the job.

The gun in Thorndike's hand was clearly different from the others.

Its body was black, adorned with gold patterns, both elegant and luxurious.

Unlike ordinary revolvers, it didn't have a thin barrel.

The front end looked more like that of a common modern pistol, with a downward-sloping shape that formed an inverted triangle near the trigger.

It added a touch of dominance to its original air of luxury.

Its craftsmanship was clearly beyond what this era could produce.

It looked more like a work of art than a weapon made to kill.

But its power made it a true killing weapon!

No matter how advanced the other guns were, there was no guarantee their bullets would pierce Thorndike's bodyguard and hit Tang Luo.

That was especially true with the bodyguard's muscles tensed as he squeezed.

A hit might make him burst into an even more powerful spasm from the pain.

But the next instant, his strength would drain away, and his grip on Tang Luo would loosen.

But the bullets from Thorndike's revolver—

The man's neck and chest were torn open in an instant. The massive wounds severed his head from his body.

Tang Luo leaned back.

His hat slipped off and happened to cover his face.

The bullets that followed struck the man's body before it had fallen.

A few tricky shots flew toward Tang Luo as well.

But the man had already released his hold. Tang Luo leaned back and took two steps, retreating into the lift. He braced himself inside and barely avoided those bullets.

"Is he dead?"

Thorndike looked at Tang Luo, who was covered in blood, and wondered.

He had complete faith in the power of this revolver and in his own marksmanship.

He had once used it to kill a bear with a single shot from two hundred meters away.

This revolver wasn't meant to be used against people.

He believed that no one could escape it once he'd taken aim.

The bloodied figure before him seemed to prove that.

But why hadn't the unease, panic, and even fear in his heart faded at all?

"Fire! Keep firing!"

Thorndike suddenly roared.

The others exchanged glances, puzzled by this apparent attempt to shoot a corpse.

But they still followed Thorndike's orders and pulled their triggers.

At that very moment, Tang Luo, leaning inside the lift, suddenly moved.

He straightened from his slanted position, and his hat fell away.

He raised both hands, firing with his left.

His right hand blurred.

After the gunshot, Thorndike struggled to turn and look around.

The companions and bodyguards who had been standing beside him had all fallen.

He looked back at Tang Luo.

The man grinned, showing his white teeth. A bullet was wedged between his upper and lower teeth.

He'd actually caught the bullet in his teeth!

Tang Luo's face was untouched by blood. His fallen hat had blocked it all.

He opened his mouth and let the bullet drop to the floor.

A sharp crack.

It jolted the dazed Thorndike back to his senses.

"Monster!"

"Monster!"

He roared and fired at Tang Luo again.

After three gunshots, Thorndike gave a muffled groan, and the black revolver fell to the ground.

His right wrist quickly swelled and reddened, and the web of his hand had split open.

The black revolver packed tremendous power, but its recoil was astonishingly strong too.

Thorndike fired recklessly, not even managing to use all six bullets.

He had already injured himself.

Having lost his last weapon, Thorndike shuddered and shouted at Tang Luo, "I—"

A streak of black light flashed by.

Thorndike's head shattered, along with the revolver Tang Luo had thrown.

"Amitabha Buddha—"

In the room, which looked like purgatory, an incongruous, eerily sinister chant rang out.

My cold's got me coughing like crazy, so I'll keep this short and get to the point.

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