America 1881: They Call Me Legend

"Get off!"

The yellow cowboy hat roared angrily, his muzzle trembling.

Teresa was awakened by the roar. She opened her eyes and asked her husband, who was still reading the newspaper next to her: "Honey, what's wrong?"

Danny didn't take his eyes off the newspaper: "Robbery, you can continue to sleep."

Theresa looked at the cowboy hat at the door, rolled her eyes, gathered the clothes covering her body, and continued to close her eyes.

Holmes was holding the notebook in his hand, facing the human skin map, and discussing something with the flying bird next to him.

Isn't it just robbery? During this period, he has been living a life with bullets flying around his head. He has been kidnapped several times. Robbery? Then let's rob. Anyway, he is now the original spiritual shareholder of the team.

Penniless.

Feiniao and Sean looked calm, and their boss didn't say anything. If he really wanted to do something, Chen Jianqiu would do it first. If not, it must be because he has already made up his mind.

There were snoring sounds coming from the back of the carriage, but only the sound could be heard, but no one could be seen.

The person next to Adam got out of the car with his hands raised. He occupied the entire chair and was sleeping soundly. The gunshots and roars had nothing to do with him.

Chen Jianqiu, on the other hand, was leaning against the window, chatting with Mark Twain across Sean.

"I have written novels before, but of course they are not comparable to yours. I think the western themes are still interesting, such as cowboys, gunmen, and train robberies."

The writer was stunned.

Stealing the train? Then am I not using local materials now?

"Look, I'll take train robbery as an example. These people obviously didn't do any research and investigation in advance. They just grabbed the ordinary carriages without caring about the luxury carriages behind them." Chen Jianqiu talked to the writer, "You don't count.

The cost of explosives and bullets, the loss of guns, feed for horses, etc. may not be recovered."

The waxy face of the man in the yellow cowboy hat was filled with blood and turned red. The gun in his hand was pointed at Chen Jianqiu without moving. He turned around and whispered to a subordinate behind him: "Take the others to the car behind and take a look."

The man quickly got out of the car and went to greet the brothers who were still grabbing the "poor guy" in the other car.

Then, his eyes stopped on the bulging bag beside Chen Jianqiu.

"Cowboy, hand over that bag quickly." He tried to take back the initiative in communication.

But Chen Jianqiu seemed to have no intention of paying attention to him. He continued to say to the writer:

"When this group of people surrounded the front of the car, they didn't seem to notice that there were no police officers in the car. This means that many of the passengers in the car were armed, and they did not disarm immediately. However,

They were lucky that there was no resistance in the first carriage."

The hairs on the back of the yellow cowboy hat stood up, and he realized that he seemed to have overlooked something.

Chen Jianqiu's words did not stop: "In addition, the things were done too sloppily. During the robbery, the person who was robbed said so many irrelevant words at gunpoint. This is really unprofessional."

Cowboy Hat couldn't bear it any longer, and he pulled the trigger of the revolver in his hand.

But there was a gunshot in the carriage before he fired.

Almost in the blink of an eye, Chen Jianqiu had a Colt in his right hand, and the muzzle was still smoking.

The man in the yellow cowboy hat was covering his hand that originally held the gun and wailing. Two of his fingers were knocked off, the wounds were bloody and bloody, and the revolver fell to the floor.

The Colt in Chen Jianqiu's hand turned twice and returned to the holster on his waist.

He glanced at the revolver on the ground and shook his head: "Last point, the Lemat revolver has one more barrel than other revolvers, is heavier than other revolvers, and has a forward center of gravity. It is difficult to control the accuracy. You need to practice."

Mark Twain's eyes widened. He didn't see clearly how Chen Jianqiu pulled out his gun and how he instantly hit the gun-holding hand in the yellow cowboy hat.

What's even more surprising is that several other people in the carriage seemed to be used to it and didn't react much.

Danny was still looking at his newspaper, while Asuka and Sean each held a gun in their hands, looking at the cowboy hat with two missing fingers with interest.

The snoring in the back of the carriage was even louder.

The boys behind the yellow cowboy hat saw that their boss was injured. One of them supported him and pulled him back, and the other rushed forward with a "ouch" and raised his gun to shoot.

"Bang!"

There was a big hole in Ma Zai's chest, and he flew backwards. Under the gaze of the yellow cowboy hat and another person, he fell heavily on the connection between the carriages, and then became motionless.

Totally dead.

Teresa, who had been sleeping just now, sat up and the coat on her body fell to the ground.

She was holding Chen Jianqiu's pump-action shotgun in her hand, her eyes red and furious.

"Go away! Don't let anyone sleep!"

Two more rounds, as if to vent their anger, hit the body of the horse boy, and the body quickly turned into a pile of rotten flesh.

Chen Jianqiu originally put this shotgun under Danny's seat because it hurt his feet. Who knew that the old woman would be so angry when she got up after being woken up that she just picked up the shotgun and started spraying it.

"Yes, honey, this man really deserves to die." Danny put down the newspaper in his hand, stood up carefully, and took the shotgun from his wife.

But Teresa didn't seem to be relieved yet, so she pulled out the revolver from Danny's waist and fired another shot at the door of the carriage.

The yellow cowboy hat and the horseman ran backwards while crawling on the ground.

But before he could take a few steps, he was shot again in the calf.

The shooter was a man with an upturned beard in the car behind. He and a young attendant trotted over.

It's Hanif and Downey.

Donny held the rope in his hand and tied up the yellow cowboy hat and his horse boy.

At this time, the subordinates in the yellow cowboy hat had already run to the luxury car at the back, led by a horse boy, and no one could save him.

Donnity followed the cowboy and tried to enter the car through the front door, but he saw Chen Jianqiu waving to him from the car window, so he ran over and threw the two of them under the car window.

"Boss, how should we deal with these two people? It only depends on your words." Hanif rubbed his hands.

"While these two are still alive, just take them to a nearby town and sell them. I guess there should be a reward for them there, but I don't know how much it will cost."

"Anyway, this train won't be moving for a while. You can go directly. I don't want your bounty. Just pay a ten-point tithe."

After hearing this, Hanif was very happy and carried the two people away. These two people may be his first prey to collect the bounty after a few months.

Chen Jianqiu looked back at the carriage again.

"Dear, dear, let's calm down." Danny took the gun back from Teresa's hand and comforted the still angry woman.

Except for Adam, who was still sleeping soundly, everyone else chose to shut up. They began to feel a little sympathy for the burly man from the south.

Oh, poor Danny, what was life like every day in the past few decades.

Chen Jianqiu sighed, spread his hands to Mark Twain, who was still in shock, and said softly: "Mr. Writer, I'm sorry that someone interrupted our chat just now. Can we continue talking about robbing the train?"

Mark Twain shook his head. He was now very interested in the Chinese people in front of him:

"How about I write a biography for you?"