The Violent Law-Enforcing Sheriff (Part 2)

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later.

Bang!!

The already flimsy door to the sheriff's office was kicked open with brutal force! Splinters flew everywhere.

A potbellied middle-aged official stormed in furiously. His greasy face twisted with rage as he pointed at Lafitte's nose and launched into a tirade:

"Lafitte! You hopeless violent maniac! What have you done this time?! Assaulting someone in broad daylight! Causing grievous injury! Do you have any respect for the law?! For your superiors?!"

His spittle nearly sprayed onto Lafitte's pale face:

"Immediately! Right now! Go apologize to that 'victim'! Compensate him for all his medical expenses, lost wages, and emotional damages! Otherwise, I'll dismiss you at once!"

Lafitte slowly licked his lips, as though savoring the delightful sound of bones cracking earlier. He gave a slight bow and revealed a cold, false smile:

"Yes, sir. I understand my... 'mistake.'"

He deliberately stressed the word "mistake," yet said nothing at all about apologizing or compensating the man, as though the official had never mentioned it.

That blatant perfunctoriness thoroughly enraged the official. His face flushed purple, his chest heaving violently, before he finally stomped his foot hard:

"Fine! Fine! Fine! Lafitte, you'll regret this! Just you wait!"

With that, he turned and slammed the door behind him as he stormed away.

The moment the door closed, the trace of false amusement on Lafitte's face vanished instantly. Deep in his eyes, a nearly tangible vicious gleam flickered, and the temperature in the office seemed to drop several degrees.

The departing official did not go far. He turned into a dark, damp alley, where the thief whose limbs had been broken and crudely splinted with wooden boards was waiting with a pained, fawning expression. The moment he saw him, he wailed:

"Sir... how did it go? Did that freak admit his mistake? Is he willing to compensate me?"

"Admit his mistake? Did he look like he was admitting anything?!"

Still seething, the official growled,

"Compensation? Don't even think about it!"

The thief immediately panicked. "Sir! You have to stand up for me! I... I only did this because I was handling things for you..."

This thief had always been the official's secretly cultivated dirty glove. Most of what he stole and robbed was usually "offered up" to the official. Many of Lafitte's past targets during his violent law enforcement had been sources of income for the official.

Cutting off someone's livelihood was like killing their parents. That was the real reason the official could no longer tolerate Lafitte.

Thinking of how Lafitte had repeatedly beaten his dogs without regard for their master, costing him both face and profit, the official's malice surged. His last shred of restraint was cast aside.

He waved his hand impatiently:

"Enough! Stop howling! This time, we'll get rid of this problem for good!"

He took out a Den Den Mushi, a sinister expression appearing on his face.

"Isn't he a good fighter? Let's see if he can take on the entire kingdom's border garrison!"

At dusk, the setting sun dyed the sky a bleak, blood-red color.

Lafitte finished another "fulfilling" day of work, seemingly not too affected by the day's earlier interruption.

With a lollipop in his mouth, he leisurely walked out of Pejila Town and onto the small road leading into the wilderness beyond.

However, that leisure was utterly shattered the next moment.

Ahead on the plains stood a dense mass of people—five hundred in all. They wore the uniforms of Palermo Kingdom soldiers and carried long blades and flintlock guns. At their head stood the potbellied official from earlier that day.

The cowardly bluster he had displayed in the office was gone from his face. All that remained was malice and arrogance.

"Lafitte!" the official shouted, his voice carrying far across the wilderness.

"You have repeatedly enforced the law with violence, causing extreme panic and resentment among the people and severely damaging the image of the Palermo Kingdom's sheriffs! By decision, you are to be expelled from the country immediately! You are never to set foot in the Palermo Kingdom again!"

Lafitte stopped walking and licked his lollipop. The shadow beneath his hat brim hid his eyes, while his distinctive strange laughter rang out:

"Hohohoho... Expelled? What if I said I don't want to leave this interesting place just yet?"

It was not that he truly did not want to leave. He simply did not want to slink away in disgrace. After all, he was no law-abiding citizen who obediently admitted his mistakes after breaking the law.

"Then give it a try!"

The official sneered and suddenly waved his hand. "You refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit! Get him!"

The five hundred soldiers shouted as they surged toward that lone figure like a tidal wave. Their blades reflected the blood-red light of the setting sun, while their flintlocks spat deadly flames.

Yet what followed was not a siege, but more like an... elegant and cruel performance.

Lafitte moved as though dancing a waltz of death upon a stage. His steps were light and uncanny, always allowing him to evade fatal slashes and lead bullets by the narrowest margin.

The slender cane in his hand became the deadliest weapon. A tap, a thrust, a sweep, a flick—every strike landed precisely on the soldiers' wrists, ankles, joints, and even their gun barrels.

Crack! Splat! Agh!

The sounds of breaking bones, dull impacts, and agonized screams rose one after another. Like a phantom, he weaved through the crowd. Wherever he passed, soldiers fell in waves, their weapons flying from their hands as their formation collapsed into chaos. He even had the leisure to straighten his top hat or lick the corner of his mouth.

In less than fifteen minutes, not one of the five hundred soldiers remained standing. Every one of them was rolling on the ground, groaning in pain.

As for Lafitte, even his clothes were barely disheveled. He did not so much as glance at the ash-faced official. He merely let out an inscrutable chuckle and disappeared into the deepening night with unhurried steps.

Only after his figure had completely vanished did the official scramble up from the ground. He spat out the mouthful of dirt he had bitten into, his face terrifyingly livid.

His trusted subordinate, the soldier squad leader, forced himself over despite the searing pain of his dislocated arm. His voice trembled as he said, "S-Sir... wh-what do we do now?"

The official looked at his subordinates rolling all over the ground and felt the fearful gazes of the surrounding soldiers. Humiliation and rage scorched away his reason.

Grinding his teeth, he forced out the words through the gaps between them: "What do we do? Notify the Navy! Immediately! At once! Tell them... tell them former Sheriff Lafitte flew into a rage after his violent law enforcement was exposed, attacked the border garrison, caused extensive civilian property damage, and has now fled out to sea."

He paused, a trace of savage hypocrisy flashing across his face:

"Remember! The report must say that our brave kingdom garrison fought a bloody battle and ultimately succeeded in driving this villain out of the country!

Five hundred men couldn't take down one man... something that humiliating must never get out! I can't afford to lose that much face!"

The squad leader's face turned the color of pig liver, but he could only nod repeatedly. "Yes! Yes! I understand, sir! You are wise!"

To Be Continued