America: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 230 - 154 Charitable Donation_2

Within a minute, the roar of a pickup truck could be heard, followed by the sound of screeching brakes and the clanking of a few car doors shutting. The thugs from Hornet Recycling rolled up their sleeves, grabbed baseball bats, crowbars, and fruit knives, and got out of the vehicle.

"Hey! His car’s over there!!" Big Beard, with his keen eyes, spotted the off-road vehicle parked in the grove and shouted out loud.

A group of people advanced, ready to teach him a painful lesson! However, just as they stepped into the grove, they were suddenly greeted by the thunderous roar of gunfire!

Tat-tat-tat!!

Allen Zhang was lying on the hood of his car, gripping a submachine gun and firing a burst at the approaching figures. Sparks flew and shell casings scattered.

"Ah!!"

"I’ve been hit!!"

"Help!!"

The group was met with screams as they were swept by gunfire, running helter-skelter, while the unlucky ones were shot in the thigh and lay on the ground wailing continuously, their figures sinister as they crawled. Bullets hit the car doors, ding ding clanging and leaving bullet holes.

After a burst of gunfire, almost no one present could stand.

Allen Zhang reloaded with a spare magazine, blew on the smoking barrel of the gun, and, carrying the weapon, approached the sobbing garbage men clutching their thighs and bellies.

He scoffed, "You’re quite bold, huh? Daring to ambush me on the road? If I weren’t somewhat capable, would I have managed to take on the business in the Rich District?"

He squatted down to look at the bald Big Beard and gave him a slap, sending his hat flying, "Speak! Who sent you? Was it your boss?"

"Don’t kill me! We just got fired from the Rich District and lost a chunk of profit, we were just too pissed off and wanted to vent our frustration on you."

Big Beard, terrified, held onto his bleeding thigh, "My leg!! Shit! Call an ambulance, quick! Please, oh!!"

"Shut up! You’re not going to die! Around here, it’s wilderness all over, and not a soul in sight, plus the cell signal’s bad, where am I supposed to go to call an ambulance for you?" Allen Zhang’s smile was more a smirk than anything. He stood up and surveyed the environs, "It does make for a good spot to kill someone and dispose of the body, though."

When the group heard this, their faces went pale with fear, trembling uncontrollably, "No! We meant no harm, we just wanted to teach you a lesson."

"Pal! You’re still so young, you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in jail, do you?"

Allen Zhang was annoyed by that remark, thinking, who are you to tell me?

Looking at the baseball bats and fruit knives on the ground, "If I weren’t armed, any ordinary person would have been done in by you lot by now, and now after getting shot up by me, you want to lecture me about reason? Why didn’t you think of this sooner!"

Ignoring these people, he opened the door of the pickup truck and rummaged through the back seat for a box of gasoline, unscrewed the cap, poured it over the two worn pickups, lit a flame with his lighter, threw it backhandedly and whoosh – a fierce fire ignited.

"Oh shit!! Our truck!"

The group let out wails.

"Arson gets you locked away for good. But then again, no one knows I did it."

Besides, just starting a fire, there’s a ditch right next door and the weather’s not even hot; it won’t catch on fire.

Allen Zhang packed away the firearms, "You’re the ones who provoked me first. If I don’t teach you a harsh lesson, you’ll really think I’m easy to mess with. What’s the name of Hornet Recycling’s boss? I’ll go find him."

"I am the boss." A middle-aged man in a hoodie emerged from a pit, his face somber as he said, "No need to look for me, I’m right here. We really didn’t intend to kill you! But look at you, buddy! What have you done?"

They never thought they’d run into such a tough nut; grab a gun and spray without a word! Who do you think you are, a terrorist?

They were used to bullying around in the city, but when trouble arose, they never thought of resorting to guns. Who would have guessed this unremarkable trash man was packing! And a submachine gun, at that!

Are those police officers blind? Why didn’t they search him?

"Kneel down, who gave you the right to stand and talk to me? Do you think you’re worthy?" Allen Zhang pulled out his pistol and pointed it at him.

"Ok, ok!" The guy immediately raised his hands and knelt down. But it seemed he was completely unharmed, apparently having miraculously evaded the bullets.

Allen Zhang didn’t like the look of this, so he went over and punched the man, who instantaneously cried out in pain, clutching half his face and laying on the ground, his eyes quickly swelling.

"Everyone else is injured, yet you’re not. Does that seem fair to you?"

"Not fair. Not fair at all. So what exactly do you want to do?" The man said with a mournful face.

"I should be asking you! What were you planning on doing to me? You tried to kill me, and I killed you in self-defense, what more is there to say? I had a $5 million deal to attend to, I was supposed to go to the airport to fly to Las Vegas to discuss it, but you’ve delayed me and made me miss it. Tell me, how should we settle this account?" Allen Zhang scolded him irately.

"..." Hearing his statement, everyone present was somewhat speechless.

A five million dollar deal? With five million, would you still be competing with them for business in the Rich District?

You sure are blowing your own trumpet.

But now they were terrified, scared they’d be shot dead on the spot; of course, whatever the General Sect Leader says goes, you’ve got the gun so you’re the boss.

The boss of Hornet Recycling spoke with a bitter face, "Ok, I’ll compensate you with money, but you’ve burned our trucks, and walking back to the city could take forever. You’ve also injured our people with gunfire; medical bills will cost a lot. We’re going bankrupt directly."