That made them happy.
Because, as horse thieves knew, risk and reward were often proportional.
The more valuable the loot, the higher the risk.
But today's opportunity? Rare.
No risk. Huge reward.
In their eyes, Mo Chen was a lamb to be slaughtered.
They could already imagine spending the reward money.
The third leader, Ma Xiaoshan, felt slight regret.
He had known this might happen.
He probably shouldn't have brought so many people.
A fair-skinned rich boy, and he brought over sixty men.
Damn, how much money would be wasted?
But looking at this young man, he still had plenty of wealth.
Ma Xiaoshan didn't care much.
After all, this was luck.
He had been plundering most of his life, and a task this easy was unprecedented.
If only more rich, foolish young men existed in the world!
Thinking this, Ma Xiaoshan's usually stern face softened.
"Boy, it's fate we met. Come back to the village and stay a while.
We'll provide good wine and food, and bring a few tender-skinned women to entertain you…"
Before Ma Xiaoshan finished, Mo Chen smiled and interrupted,
"I'm afraid that won't work. I'm used to my own bed, and I won't sleep well elsewhere. I appreciate your kindness, brother."
Ma Xiaoshan was stunned.
His own bed? Trouble sleeping?
Did this boy mistake a robbery for hospitality?
A trusted horse thief beside Ma Xiaoshan froze, too.
Receiving Ma Xiaoshan's glance, he finally snapped out of it and shouted,
"Fuck you! Ungrateful! You don't want to drink my toast, so you'll drink the wine of punishment!"
He winked at nearby bandits, and several rushed forward.
...
"Dad, the horse thieves are taking action!"
Sikong Qianluo clenched her jade hands.
She didn't know why she felt so uneasy for the young man.
Sikong Changfeng, watching the scene, said,
"Don't worry. Daddy will act at the critical moment."
Hearing this, Sikong Qianluo felt relieved.
Sikong Changfeng's tiger eyes focused on the young man sitting on his horse.
He had a strong intuition: this young man was no ordinary person.
Even if he lacked martial arts skill, he must have some reliance.
Sikong Changfeng had yet to intervene, wanting to see what the young man depended on.
Because even he couldn't figure it out.
A young man without martial arts skill, facing over sixty horse thieves from Baigui Village—what gave him the confidence to remain calm?
At that moment, Sikong Changfeng raised an eyebrow.
His sharp eyes noticed the young man's movements.
He reached into his sleeves and produced a golden object.
Not large, far smaller than commonly used weapons.
Could it be a hidden weapon?
Sikong Changfeng realized: this was the source of the young man's confidence.
Yet he still underestimated the strength of these thieves.
Over sixty people!
All extraordinary, rank five or six martial artists.
In the Nine Grades Four Realms, the fifth or sixth rank is mid-level, truly second-rate masters.
The leader had top-level strength.
Such a group, ignoring the unknown weapon in the young man's hand, would overwhelm most attacks.
Even Tang Lian's rain of pear blossom needles would be useless.
Sikong Changfeng tightly grasped the long cloth bag in his hand, ready to launch the Wu Yue Spear.
Bang!
Suddenly, a horse thief galloping at high speed, blood blossoming from his head, fell off his horse.
Bangbang!
The noise continued.
Sikong Qianluo's beautiful eyes widened.
Those horse thieves whistling and waving sabers moments ago fell one by one.
Sikong Changfeng's eyes flashed with surprise.
Not a hidden weapon?
A firearm, like a musket?
But how could this be?
He had seen muskets before....they were longer than this golden object.
A firearm like that, capable of such power?
Sikong Changfeng's eyes, far sharper than ordinary people's, confirmed it.
The head of a horse thief was smashed like a watermelon hit with a sledgehammer.
Even if not the head, any body part struck exploded into a mist of blood, bones, and flesh.
Even though Sikong Changfeng was well-informed, he was now confused.
He could not understand how such a small firearm could possess such immense power.
These horse thieves were not ordinary people.
A second-rate martial arts expert could dodge most hidden weapons if fully alert.
Yet in the hands of the boy, the weapon turned them into lambs to the slaughter.
They had no chance of fighting back.
Moreover, second-rate martial artists had muscles and bones far beyond ordinary people.
Breaking rocks and bricks with one punch was no problem.
But facing the projectiles from that firearm, even their bodies were as fragile as paper.
What on earth was that?
Over the years, this was the first time Sikong Changfeng had seen something he had never heard of.
"Don't say you've seen it," he thought.
"I haven't even heard of it. If such a thing existed in Beili Jianghu, Xueyue City's intelligence would have caught wind of it!"
Everything about this situation was baffling.
...
Mo Chen blew on the muzzle of the gun, which emitted a wisp of green smoke.
The power of this Desert Eagle was truly remarkable....far superior to ordinary pistols.
Whether it was the one he had pulled out himself, or the sleek golden Desert Eagle, his shooting today was impeccable.
Perhaps the golden hue granted some special bonus.
While thinking this, Mo Chen slowly changed the magazine.
The magazines were pre-loaded and stored conveniently in the storage ring.
Handling them was effortless.
Killing was never comfortable.
A deep sense of unease lingered, both physically and mentally.
Yet Mo Chen quickly adjusted his mindset.