Greenberg's face turned ashen the moment Song Yunming mentioned his bullet-wounded leg, as if a storm was brewing in the sky.
His anger surged, like a wild beast being provoked, and his long-suppressed rage erupted at this moment.
"Someone come here!"
Greenberg shouted, his voice echoing through the tent like a thunderclap.
More than a dozen cult members wielding long knives rushed into the tent in an instant. Their movements were swift and orderly, like cheetahs striking, all aimed at Song Yunming, their blades flashing and their killing intent palpable.
Greenberg gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing with a ruthless light, like a sharp blade, aimed directly at Song Yunming.
His voice carried a hint of threat: "Song Yunming, kneel down and kowtow to admit your mistake, or I'll make sure you die a horrible death!"
His words carried a hint of arrogance, as if he could already see Song Yunming submitting to him.
Upon hearing this, Song Yunming was stunned. A hint of mockery flashed in his eyes, as if he were laughing at Greenberg's ignorance and folly.
He couldn't help but ask, "Greenberg, do you know what 'in war, one should not kill the messenger' means?"
His voice carried a hint of contempt, as if reminding Greenberg that his actions had violated the basic rules of war.
Greenberg gave a cold laugh, his smile carrying a hint of disdain, as cold and biting as the winter wind.
"War is about to break out, so what's the point of talking about 'when two armies are at war, envoys are not to be killed'?" His voice carried a hint of sarcasm. "If I kill you, Song Yunming, Song Yunyang will surely panic. How could I possibly let such a good opportunity slip by?"
His words carried a hint of cunning, as if announcing his conspiracy and trickery.
Having said that, Greenberg waved his hand, like the scythe of death, and gave the order to kill: "Kill Song Yunming!"
More than a dozen cult members stepped forward, raising their knives to slash at Song Yunming. Their movements were swift and fierce, like a pack of hungry wolves ready to tear their prey apart.
Just at this critical moment, gunshots rang out in the distance, breaking the tense atmosphere.
After more than ten gunshots, the cult members in the tent were hit in the head by bullets. Their figures fell to the ground like kites with broken strings, blood splattering everywhere, a horrific scene.
Greenberg's eyes widened like saucers as he stared dumbfounded at the corpses of his followers on the ground, as if witnessing the end of the world.
He never imagined that there were gunmen arranged by Song Yunming outside, like hunters hidden in the dark, waiting for the best opportunity to deliver a fatal blow.
Greenberg looked around frantically, trying to find a place to hide, but found there was nowhere to hide in the tent.
His figure appeared exceptionally lonely in the firelight, like a wild beast trapped in a cage with nowhere to escape.
Song Yunming gave a cold laugh, his expression carrying a hint of contempt. He stood calmly in place, slowly drawing a pistol with his left hand and aiming it at the panicked Greenberg.
His voice was calm yet powerful, as if proclaiming Greenberg's fate.
"Kneel down, or I'll make sure you die a horrible death."
Greenberg's lips twitched slightly. He stood motionless, his eyes revealing a hint of resentment and anger.
His posture carried a hint of arrogance, as if he was still unwilling to submit to Song Yunming's threats.
His expression carried a hint of arrogance, as if to say that even in dire straits, he was still the supreme Jewish leader.
Seeing that Greenberg was not convinced, a cold glint flashed in Song Yunming's eyes, and he fired a shot directly into Greenberg's other leg.
Gunshots echoed through the tents, like the call of death, cold and merciless.
Greenberg collapsed to the ground instantly, howling in pain and letting out a pig-like scream.
His body was twisted on the ground like a severed snake, in pain and despair.
His eyes were filled with fear, but he still looked defiant, his voice trembling slightly: "You...you dare!"
Song Yunming looked coldly at Greenberg, his eyes devoid of any pity, as if he were looking at a clown about to be abandoned by history.
Song Yunming's voice carried a hint of sarcasm: "Why wouldn't I dare? Haven't you always wanted war? Now, war has come."
Greenberg was pale, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his body trembled slightly from the pain. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger.
His voice was laced with a roar: "Song Yunming, you're playing with fire!"
Song Yunming sneered, his smile carrying a hint of disdain: "Playing with fire? No, I'm just teaching you a lesson."
His words carried a hint of finality, as if declaring Greenberg's defeat.
Song Yunming slowly holstered his pistol, his movements calm and unhurried, like an artist gracefully putting down his brush after completing a masterpiece.
His voice was as cold as ice, echoing in the tent: "I guarantee you will be paralyzed, but not today. I'll give you a chance for revenge."
His words exuded an unquestionable confidence, as if he had Greenberg's fate firmly in his grasp.
"But don't worry, I, Song Yunming, keep my word. You will definitely spend the rest of your life in misery."
A ruthless glint flashed in his eyes, like a hunter admiring his prey about to fall into his trap.
After saying that, Song Yunming walked arrogantly out of the tent. His back cast a long shadow in the firelight, like a triumphant general, all conceited and unapproachable.
Collapsed to the ground, Greenberg roared angrily, his voice like that of a wounded beast, filled with pain and rage.
"Song Yunming must pay the price and die a painful death!"
His words carried a hint of desperate madness, as if he were cursing Song Yunming with his last breath.
Upon hearing this, Song Yunming suddenly stopped in his tracks. His movements were like a frozen waterfall, sudden and decisive.
He turned around, pulled out his pistol, and pointed it at Greenberg again. His eyes were devoid of any warmth, as if they could pierce through Greenberg's soul.
"Kneel down, or I'll kill you right now."
His voice was calm yet firm, like the pronouncement of death, irresistible.
Facing the cold muzzle of the gun, Greenberg was filled with fear and regret. His forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his body trembled slightly from the intense pain.
A flicker of despair crossed his eyes, and he could only kneel down, enduring the intense pain. His movements were slow and labored, like a tree ravaged by a storm, finally succumbing to the power of nature.
"Where's your courage? You damn Judah! Where is the courage he gave you?"
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