He slowly took the rifle from behind his back, skillfully cocked it, and aimed the dark muzzle at Greenberg, who was still passionately and eloquently persuading people in front of the church.
Go to your Yahweh.
Chen Zhennan smirked and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
With a loud "bang!", the bullet, like a runaway horse, carrying Chen Zhennan's burning rage, struck Greenberg squarely in the thigh.
Greenberg screamed and, like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsed to his knees with a thud.
His eyes widened, his face filled with terror and disbelief. Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, mingling with the dust on his face, making him look utterly disheveled.
Li Guangyi, on the other side, was taken aback and didn't understand what was going on for a moment.
But upon seeing Greenberg injured, he immediately drew the gleaming sword from his waist.
With a wave of his hand, he led his two thousand fierce imperial guards, shouting and charging forward.
Upon seeing this, the officials who opposed Li Guangyi scattered like birds and beasts, not daring to oppose Li Guangyi's imperial guards, and fled in all directions. The surrounding people also came to their senses at this moment and dispersed with shouts.
Li Guangyi loudly ordered his men: "Do not let any Jewish missionaries go. Kill them all, except for Greenberg."
In less than ten minutes, the battle was nearing its end. Hundreds of Greenberg's missionaries had been slaughtered, and the ground was littered with corpses. The air was thick with the stench of blood, enough to make one want to vomit.
Li Guangyi dismounted and walked step by step toward Greenberg.
Greenberg was already terrified, and he stammered, "Sir, sir, spare my life! I... I know I was wrong. Please have mercy and let me live."
"You won't know who's boss until I beat you, you bastard! Aren't you afraid of dying?"
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