Chapter 144: Earth Wasteland Arc (Ten)
Chapter 144: Earth Wasteland Arc (Ten)
Feng Bu Jue came to a halt before Hank, his expression unreadable. He seemed to want to speak but hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he calculated his words.
Hank’s face paled with fear, his gaze locked on the "Foreigner" before him. The man’s silence, though brief, pressed down like an invisible weight, amplifying his confusion and dread.
After roughly thirty seconds, Feng Bu Jue reached into his satchel and withdrew his handgun. Holding it up, he asked, “Do you know what this is?”
Hank shook his head.
“It’s a weapon common in the twentieth to twenty-first century,” Feng Bu Jue explained. “You do know what a ‘weapon’ is, right?”
Hank nodded hesitantly. “I do… but… what’s a ‘century’?”
Feng Bu Jue mused inwardly: They don’t even understand the concept… Truly, they’ve been enslaved completely.
He kept his face neutral. “Let’s rephrase it—this was a weapon used roughly four to five hundred years ago.”
Hank stammered, “Why… are you telling me this?”
Feng Bu Jue smirked. “Mainly to give you a sense of what this can do.” He pointed the gun’s barrel at him. “With just a twitch of my finger, a bullet will fly out of here. Its speed exceeds anything launched by an anti-gravity device. Aim it at a human…” His tone grew menacing. “Hit the head, the brain explodes. Hit the body, organs shatter. Hit a limb, it becomes useless, bleeding uncontrollably…” He contorted his face into ten points of terror, mimicking a madman barely restraining his bloodlust.
Facial expressions are a universal language, transcending time. Despite the millennium between them, the raw emotion etched on Feng Bu Jue’s face was unmistakable. Hank froze, paralyzed by fear.
Suddenly, Feng Bu Jue dropped the scare tactic and shifted gears. “How many people are in your village?”
“Wh—why ask this?” Hank blurted, his voice trembling.
“You don’t want to tell me?” Feng Bu Jue chuckled. “Afraid I’ll use the gun against them?” He paused, letting the implied threat sink in. “Braver than I expected. Our village has ten thousand people!” Hank’s voice cracked as he forced the words out, his courage fraying at the edges.
“Is that so…?” Feng Bu Jue laughed softly, twirling the handgun. “In about twenty minutes, this vehicle will reach your village. From what I’ve observed, your people have a strong hostility toward Foreigners…” He paused, leaning closer. “If they attack on sight… this gun holds a thousand bullets. Even with a hit rate of sixty to seventy percent, how many villagers do you think will die?”
At his words, Kuangzong Jianying nearly fell off his seat in the back. You bold kid, making this up as you go? A handgun with a thousand bullets? Hidden in an extradimensional magazine? And even if you had that many, firing a thousand shots at that rate would take half an hour. Are their villagers lining up to get shot one by one?
“No… please, don’t kill the villagers!” Hank pleaded. “Our village only has five thousand people…”
“Wait! You actually believed that?” Kuangzong Jianying thought, his expression twitching. Still, he feigned composure, keeping his back to the pair as he sat frozen in the passenger seat.
Feng Bu Jue folded his arms. “I’ll agree to spare them… if you cooperate.”
“Fine… fine… Just tell me what you want,” Hank stammered.
Feng Bu Jue’s tone softened, the classic carrot-and-stick approach in play. “Hank, regardless of your prejudice against Foreigners, you’ve seen we’re not bloodthirsty. Even after you attacked us with a catapult, we spared you, didn’t we?”
Hank nodded slowly.
Kuangzong muttered under his breath, “Sure, spared him… while cranking up the death threats.”
“We just want to visit your village and leave,” Feng Bu Jue continued. “No scouting, no Foreigner armies coming to attack. We’re travelers, curious to see your home.”
Hank’s skepticism lingered. He doubted the Foreigner army claim but couldn’t shake the feeling that “tourism” wasn’t their true motive.
“But your village clearly distrusts outsiders,” Feng Bu Jue observed, watching Hank’s face. “Normally, any villager would kill us on sight without asking questions. No chance for dialogue.” He gestured to Kuangzong. “If a fight breaks out, you know the outcome. My friend alone could kill a thousand of you with cold weapons.”
Kuangzong finally turned, muttering, “You make it sound like a Dynasty Warriors game.”
Feng Bu Jue seized the moment. “His point is, killing a thousand is as easy for him as harvesting crops.”
Hank’s body went rigid. Kuangzong’s sudden, ghostlike appearance earlier flashed in his mind, reinforcing the village’s teachings: Foreigners are demons—powerful, cunning, and manipulative. No matter how harmless they seemed, they must be killed without hesitation.
Feng Bu Jue pressed on, “I don’t want bloodshed either.” He clapped Hank’s shoulder. “Follow my plan—bring us in peacefully. We’ll stay a few hours, then leave. After that, you’re free to chase us down.” He studied Hank’s reaction. “You can doubt my words, but weigh the alternative.” Turning away, his smirk deepened. “Time’s short. Delay too long, and the Sharkfish Pod will arrive. Then… we’ll handle it the hard way.”
(End of Chapter)
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