Chapter 879

The guy who pulled out the gun was also a veteran. Public security in Thailand has always been mediocre, and those in this line of work have plenty of opportunities to handle and fire guns; they even use them frequently in daily life. So, even though Bai Lang had killed four people in the blink of an eye, the guy who pulled out the gun didn't even have time to get nervous before he had it out and was firing roughly in Bai Lang's direction. The distance was very close, and there was no need for accurate aiming—perhaps the man was just trying to stall Bai Lang so he could escape.

In any case, the man was retreating while firing.

Bai Lang channeled his Golden Bell Shield internal force. Within this range of three to five meters, someone accustomed to using a pistol was unlikely to miss—the space was limited, and naturally, there was no large area for Bai Lang to dodge. The key was that in the time it took him to kill the other three, the guy had enough time to fire. As Bai Lang lunged toward him, the man fired four shots. One missed, but the other three hit Bai Lang.

Two shots hit Bai Lang's left arm, which he was holding in front of him, and one hit his shoulder. Bai Lang truly experienced the power of the Golden Bell Shield firsthand—he couldn't immediately identify the model of the gun the man was holding; it looked small and delicate. However, when the bullets hit him at this distance, Bai Lang did feel the impact and the pain. The bullets broke his skin and pierced through some of his muscle, but they were firmly lodged about three centimeters deep. Of the two bullets that hit his arm, one had struck bone and was simply wedged against it.

The shot to his shoulder was the same; the bullet was lodged against the bone and couldn't penetrate further. He wasn't bleeding much, and the wound even squeezed the bullet tight. The pain stimulated Bai Lang; a wounded tiger is even more lethal. The man didn't have time to fire a fifth shot because Bai Lang, carrying a scent of blood, had already lunged in front of him—not just the little blood from his own gunshot wounds, but mostly the bloodstains from killing the three people on the sofa.

This time, Bai Lang's palm struck forward from top to bottom. This strike naturally had a name; in traditional martial arts, it is called the "Great Tablet-Shattering Hand," which counts as an extremely rigid and fierce technique. And that was indeed the result: the moment this palm struck, the man's entire upper body seemed as if it had truly been hit by a large stone tablet, and it simply collapsed... Only then did Bai Lang stop his steps and slowly regulate his breath. His muscles twitched slightly under the movement of his internal force, squeezing out the lodged bullets, which fell to the ground.

His steps stopped in front of the last survivor, who was curled into a ball. Bai Lang looked at the man with a half-smile. "I recognize you, but I didn't expect you to be the person in charge this time?" Bai Lang had indeed seen this person before, running around the high-level personnel of the group, sometimes even acting superior and barking orders at them, the professional fighters. Yet now, the man was trembling in front of Bai Lang, muttering to himself.

The accent was heavy, and Bai Lang could barely understand it, but it was nothing more than various pleas for mercy. Bai Lang didn't say much; his right hand, carrying a fishy wind, grabbed down and directly snapped the man's cervical spine, severing his nerves and killing him very quickly. "There wasn't much time anyway. From the moment I smashed through the window, there was noise, plus the gunshots. Even with Thailand's poor security and corrupt police, they should have arrived in about twenty minutes. It's time to go."

Bai Lang hesitated for a moment by the pistols. "Should I take a gun?" As for the clothes on his body, he had time to change them, as they were stained with blood. In the end, Bai Lang just washed his hands, changed into a clean set of clothes, and tucked a small pistol he finally recognized into his bag to take away. "It's quite stylish; it's actually a Walther PPK. No wonder the bullet power is limited..." The gun was small and delicate, and Bai Lang also took most of the bullets he found.

Bai Lang walked out through the room door—none of the neighbors dared to poke their heads out to look, so Bai Lang went downstairs easily and left quickly through the main entrance of the house. At this time, the police still hadn't arrived. Should he continue to kill those who ordered the pursuit? Regarding this, Bai Lang felt he would think about it later.

In fact, he didn't know that the power of this pistol was far greater than he imagined. Don't look at it as a small, delicate pistol; it fired 7.65mm pistol rounds, but its stopping power against unarmored targets was very strong. "Palm Thunder" was the nickname for this gun. The fact that he could let the bullet get lodged meant the power of his Golden Bell Shield was already close to a bulletproof vest. Bai Lang's kung fu was indeed the best in this world.

Six people died, which could be called a major case even in Thailand. However, they couldn't catch Bai Lang at all, and even now, they didn't even know what Bai Lang looked like—they couldn't even issue a wanted poster. A person like Bai Lang, after using his lightness skill, could run a hundred miles in a single night, and Thailand's relatively low level of social surveillance allowed Bai Lang to take public transportation to escape as he pleased. On the morning of the third day, Bai Lang had already arrived in Bangkok—Thailand's largest metropolis. "I should be able to find a way to smuggle myself out here—but where to go?"

"Actually, it doesn't matter if I don't smuggle myself out; I can still practice martial arts here—as for money, I can just go and trouble those who do illegal business." Bai Lang thought. He quite liked the atmosphere of life here; overall, Thailand felt better to him than Japan.

With his martial arts at this level, it was difficult to make any further progress in this world. The subsequent practice would just be to constantly hone his fist techniques, striving to innovate under the current circumstances. At the very least, he had to practice his proficiency to the limit, turn the breathing method of practicing the Golden Bell Shield into instinct, and integrate it into the Thirty-Two Road Long Fist during his daily walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, striving to practice martial arts without showing it in his daily life.

Because besides this, Bai Lang couldn't think of anything else to do—he could certainly eat, drink, and play in this world to waste the remaining time, but if he did that, it would be hard to say what would happen when he traveled back. Maybe he wouldn't meet an expert who would take his life at will? In short, if there was such a day, and he felt he hadn't tried his best, he wouldn't be reconciled even if he died. Moreover, Bai Lang didn't want to die at all.

Then let's hide in Thailand. With the standard of Southeast Asian countries, he was as stable as Mount Tai here. "That gambling group shouldn't come to find me unless they want to die—besides, I'm not looking down on them, but I'm afraid it's almost impossible for them to find me." The police in this place only had this much ability, let alone the brothers in the underworld. Just like this, Bai Lang settled down in Bangkok, and in his spare time, he would wander around temples. "Has my body stopped growing after completing the first level of the Golden Bell Shield?" With his martial arts at this level, Bai Lang had made great progress in his mastery of the subtle aspects of his body.

Regarding this situation, Bai Lang thought about it and felt it was quite normal—he estimated that that voice didn't intend for the holder to die of old age in the process of searching for things after only a few times... ===== CHAPTER 880 =====