Chapter 13: Juan's Approval

"Watch out!"

It was the first time Roger had ever seen someone draw a gun right in front of him, and his heart nearly leaped out of his throat.

Juan had also seen Gideon's movement. Without a second thought, he lunged straight at him, using his own body weight to slam the man to the ground.

"Fuck!"

Gideon let out a heart-wrenching roar.

Because half of his ear had actually been bitten off by Juan, exposing the pale, glistening cartilage underneath.

But even under such excruciating pain, he still kept slamming his head violently into Juan.

At the same time, he raised his pistol and pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

The bullet whizzed past Roger's eyes, startling the birds in the woods into flight.

Juan charged in again and tangled with Gideon once more.

Fuck his mother!

Having brushed past death's edge, Roger's heart was pounding like mad, and fury rose from his chest, malice sprouting from his gall. He rushed over, stomped one foot down on Gideon's arm, and with both hands wrenched the man's arm violently in the opposite direction!

Crack!

The sound of bone snapping rang out.

Accompanied by Gideon's even more piercing scream.

Juan also headbutted him hard on the bridge of the nose, smashing his face into a bloody pulp!

Then, the Colombian picked up the pistol from the ground and decisively pulled the trigger on Gideon.

"Bang, bang!"

Gideon's body flopped like a fish just dropped into a frying pan. After thrashing desperately a few times, it went still.

Roger watched this scene and, for some reason, felt not the slightest bit of discomfort.

Only the surging adrenaline and the exhaustion and dizziness brought on by intense exertion.

"Don't kill me! Please!"

Hearing the voice, Roger turned his head and saw Juan panting, raising the pistol and aiming it at that fat man.

The man was kneeling on the ground in terror, snot and tears smeared all over his face, begging Juan for forgiveness.

"Please don't kill me, I really don't know Gideon well, I only just joined up recently!"

"Joined up? What were you planning to do?" Roger walked over and asked.

Seeing a glimmer of hope for survival, the fat man hurriedly answered in full detail: "Gideon has a deal with the gang. He helps them sell weed and cocaine around here. Nine-tenths of the money goes to the gang, one-tenth to him."

"So he pulled me and Baldy in, planning to sell weed together. Today we were actually going to grab some pizza to celebrate, but we never expected that when we were passing by Clay Street, we heard a dog barking."

"I personally don't like eating dog meat, but Gideon really does. He's the one who insisted we kidnap your dog!"

"I'm telling the truth! I swear to God!"

The fat man was a picture of tearful misery. Faced with a gun, he cast every last shred of dignity aside, only hoping he wouldn't end up like his two companions.

Juan's expression didn't waver in the slightest; he looked at the fat man as though looking at a dead man.

But the next moment, Roger leaned in beside him: "Let me handle it."

He held out his hand.

Juan hesitated for a moment, then handed the pistol to Roger.

Roger tucked the pistol behind his back, stepped forward, and kicked the fat man. "I can spare you, but you have to do something to prove yourself."

"Do what?"

Roger dragged him over to Gideon, pressed the pistol into his palm: "Juan didn't hit a vital spot, so he's still breathing. You do it. Kill him."

The fat man's legs were shaking uncontrollably, the hand gripping the gun trembling along with them. In a mournful, sobbing voice he whimpered: "I-I can't! I'm just a chef, I only dare kill chickens, not people!"

But Roger didn't seem to believe him, and forcefully demanded he pull the trigger.

"Kill him, and we're in this together."

The fat man was terrified beyond measure, snot and tears smeared across the sides of his nose, a wretched sight.

But for the sake of his own life, he could only grip the pistol with all his might, grit his teeth, and quickly press the trigger!

"Click."

Yet the deafening gunshot he'd expected never came. Instead, there was only the crisp sound of an empty chamber.

Roger took the pistol back from his hand and patted him on the shoulder: "Don't be scared, I removed the magazine."

He had been so nervous that the fat man hadn't even noticed the pistol actually had no magazine in it.

"What's your name?"

As though granted a reprieve from death, the fat man sobbed and said: "Johnson Farrell."

"Johnson, what a tough-guy name to waste on you." Roger clicked his tongue, then reached out and draped an arm over his shoulder.

Johnson hunched down, not daring to stand taller than Roger.

"Listen up, buddy, we're now grasshoppers on the same rope. If the gang finds out Gideon is dead and comes looking for you, do you know what to say?"

"I-I don't know."

"Just say a group of gangsters rushed in, shot Gideon dead, and stole the drugs. That's what you say. Repeat it."

"I saw... I saw someone rush in, and then they shot and killed..."

"Come on, be firm. Are you fucking a woman or something, dragging it out like this!"

"I saw someone rush in and kill Gideon, and, and..."

"I swear my eighty-year-old, toothless grandma speaks more fluently than you, fuck, say it again!"

"I saw some Black guys rush in, they shot Gideon dead, and stole the weed!"

"That's right, exactly like that!" Roger gave his shoulder a heavy pat. "Remember, don't mention the Pit Bull, and don't mention us. If the gang finds us, I'll come find you in the wee hours, shove the muzzle into your mouth, and serve you a bullet!"

"Understood!" Qiangsen nodded repeatedly.

Afterwards, Roger took the drugs Gideon had hidden in his clothes, gave Qiangsen another set of instructions, and only then left together with Juan.

When the two stood in an alley by the street, Juan fed the half a German sausage from his pocket to Jose.

"Eat up, Jose, you must be starving."

"We once fought our way out of a hail of bullets together. This little scene is nothing compared to back then, right, Jose?"

The Pit Bull couldn't be bothered to reply, burying its head and wolfing down the sausage.

Roger shrugged, figuring Juan's mental state was basically beyond saving.

Then Juan raised his head: "This time, it was all thanks to you, buddy."

"I'll remember it always."

The words had barely fallen when a system prompt appeared.

【Juan Jia Xiya's recognition achieved, Anchor Point +1】

【Anchor Point effect: Skill 'Firearm Proficiency', SAN Value shangxian +1】

He hadn't expected this Anchor Point reward to actually be a skill!

Roger instantly felt that today's desperate struggle had been worth it.

The corner of his mouth couldn't help but curl up; he was in a great mood.

Seeing Juan rub Jose's head, he said: "I suggest you change locations. After all, those homeless guys we asked earlier must still remember us."

"I know." Juan nodded.

On the streets, you can offend anyone, but never the gang.

These guys control a lot of turf, have informants, have weapons, and never lack the ruthlessness to kill.

If they set their sights on you, it's easy to be sent off by a single bullet.

Apart from Juan, Roger also decided to stay as far away from this street as possible; he wouldn't be coming back for a while.

The two discussed briefly, and finally Juan decided to go stay at the park where Roger was.

Once decided, Roger took the back route, returning to the tent area one step ahead.

But just as he got back to the park, he heard a burst of police sirens. Right after, several police cars pulled over by the road, and a few broad-shouldered, heavily armed officers stepped out.