Wang Huanchun stared fiercely at the hunting rifle in Zhang Cheng's hand, showing no sign of backing down.
People in this era are so stubborn; they value their reputation more than their lives.
Wang Huanchun felt that as the village chief, he had to protect his own children, and that right and wrong should be discussed behind closed doors, not by outsiders.
Inside the ancestral hall, the man who had been shot in the thigh, his trousers already soaked with blood, was gritting his teeth and glaring venomously at Zhang Cheng.
The other villagers from Wang Village were breathing heavily, like several hungry wolves, just waiting for Wang Huanchun's order to pounce and tear them apart.
Zhang Cheng knew that it wouldn't be easy to get Wang Huanchun to back down.
He spoke, his voice not loud, but every word clear:
"Your Highness, Wang Jian and Wang Weiguo have cut down hundreds of our fruit trees, cutting off our livelihood."
In the past, this would have been enough to exterminate nine generations of one's family.
Wang Huanchun's eyelids twitched. This was indeed something Wang Jian and his group had gone too far. Wherever they went to reason, Zhangjia Village always managed to gain the upper hand.
"Zhang Ergouzi, all the fruit from our Wang Village this year will go to your Zhang Family Village. We'll also give you an extra five hundred yuan."
Wang Huanchun felt he had given them a tremendous amount of face.
"What about next year?" Zhang Cheng countered. "Fruit trees take three or four years to bear fruit."
"Zhang Ergouzi, don't push your luck!" a man couldn't help but growl.
If we really have to pay losses for three or four years, will Wang Village even be able to survive?
Besides, it was Wang Jian and Wang Weiguo who caused the trouble, so why should the whole village take the blame? Giving them a year's harvest is already more than enough.
"Zhang Ergouzi!!!"
A loud shout suddenly rang out from outside the ancestral hall.
A man in a tattered cotton-padded coat, carrying a hunting rifle, rushed in with bloodshot eyes.
"Bang!"
Gunfire erupted.
Zhang Cheng rolled to the side almost simultaneously.
"Bang!"
Zhang Cheng's hunting rifle also fired.
The man was frantically trying to load a second bullet when his thigh suddenly exploded into a cloud of blood mist, and he fell to the ground with a scream.
He's out of bullets!
"Grab him!"
Upon seeing this, the six men who were blocking Wang Huanchun's path roared and pounced like hungry tigers.
With both of Zhang Cheng's hunting rifles empty, he flicked his wrist, gripped one of the barrels in reverse, lowered his knees slightly, and swung the butt of the rifle hard into the chest of the man charging at the front.
"Bang!"
A muffled thud, like a heavy hammer striking a broken drum.
Zhang Cheng moved with lightning speed, his rifle butt flashing. Although not every move was fatal, he focused on attacking vital joints.
Six burly men ganging up on one person looked like a few three-year-old children to Wang Huanchun, who cleanly and swiftly took them down one by one, their screams echoing in pain.
Meanwhile, at the entrance of Wangcun Village.
Li Chirou, his new cotton-padded jacket stuffed with hard wooden blocks as armor, several rusty grenades wrapped around his waist, two hunting rifles slung over his shoulder, and a rifle clutched tightly in his hand, his eyes resolute.
Zhang Weiguo and Li Qiming pushed a similarly rusty mountain gun, its dark muzzle pointing straight into the village.
The dozens of people in Zhangjia Village looked at the three of them with complicated expressions.
Li Chirou waved his hand at the crowd: "Go back."
Everyone silently turned away, leaving only Li Chirou and Li Xiaodai pushing the mountain gun, and Zhang Jucai holding two hand grenades, as they walked step by step toward the quiet Wang Village.
Zhang Jucai lowered his voice: "Go blow up the Wangcun Ancestral Hall first!"
"OK!"
"Listen to Brother Zhaocai!"
The three men had a clear objective: to blow up the ancestral hall, lure the enemy out, and then cover it with artillery fire.
Otherwise, with just the three of them, if they went from house to house killing people, they would be chopped into mincemeat sooner or later.
They hadn't gone far when the three of them stopped at the same time and looked in unison at an old house next to them.
Collisions and suppressed curses echoed from inside the room.
"Zhang Ergouzi, you son of a bitch, don't let me out... My neck hurts like hell..."
The three exchanged a glance, and Er Gouzi, as expected, made the first move.
Li Chirou carefully pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Through the light filtering through the crack in the door, one could see a man with his hands and feet bound and a strip of cloth stuffed in his mouth, writhing on the ground.
The man was Wang Axing. When he saw the door open, he cried out, thinking that his savior had arrived.
When Wang Axing saw the grenades on Li Chirou's waist and the hunting rifles on his shoulders, especially the dark mountain cannon outside the door, his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. They were going to massacre the village!
Li Xiaodai grinned, stepped forward, grabbed Wang Axing by the collar, and lifted him up: "Did I just hear you cursing Er Gouzi?"
Wang Axing glanced at Shanpao out of the corner of his eye, and nearly scared out of his wits. He mumbled something incoherently:
"Hey, Brother Hey... a few trees... it's not worth it... we'll pay for it!"
"Now you realize you've lost money?"
Li Xiaodai elbowed Wang Axing in the chest.
Wang Axing's face turned purplish-red, and his mouth gaped open, like a fish out of water.
"Cough cough cough!"
It took him a long time to catch his breath.
Zhang Jucai's eyes were icy cold:
"Wang Axing, to be honest, tonight, after we paid our respects to our ancestors, we didn't plan to go back alive."
"No, no!" Wang Axing cried out.
"The two villages have a century-long friendship... Besides, there are daughters from your Zhangjia Village who have married into our village..."
"A married daughter is like water spilled from a bowl!" Li Chirou remained unmoved.
“Gentlemen, the grievances have their source, and the debts have their debtors. It’s all those two damned Wang Jian and Wang Weiguo… In this world, you’re just making trouble…”
Li Xiaodai interrupted him with a cold snort:
"If you're willing to risk your life, what else are you afraid of?"
"Then name your terms!"
"Wang Axing panicked; he didn't want to die yet."
Zhang Jucai and his two companions exchanged glances. They had come to fight to the death and hadn't really thought about compensation.
Seeing their hesitation, Wang Axing quickly spoke up:
"Gentlemen, we from Wang Village will help you dig ditches and repair roads, providing manpower and work points. Is that alright? The fruit trees are ruined, but we can make up for it elsewhere!"
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