The mage in the late Qing Dynasty

Not to mention, ever since the glass in the corridor was shattered by the Fuhu Ring, a level 2 northeasterly wind has been blowing, and the wind has penetrated through the cracks in the door. Even as strong as Zhao Chuanxin, his skin will feel trembling.

At first, he teased the little widow, but after a while, Zhao Chuanxin couldn't stand it anymore and ran to the balcony to practice balancing skills to warm up his body.

When Abao saw him getting out of bed, he quickly got on the bed and wrapped himself in a thick quilt to occupy the floor. Then she burped, and her mouth was filled with the taste of sea cucumber and leeks.

She lay in bed unable to sleep, always feeling that she had missed something. After thinking about it carefully, she found that the word "forgot" was written all over the corners of her memory. She left in a hurry and didn't collect his body yet.

Abao suddenly sat up and became restless.

Zhao Chuanxin finished practicing a set, and when he saw her like this, he asked out of curiosity: "Gaha? It was a surprise."

Abao lifted the quilt and put on his shoes: "No, I'm going to find Hu Gengtang now to find out the news. If something happens here, I have to rush back to Taihu Lake."

Zhao Chuanxin scratched his collarbone: "Why are you so anxious?"

Abao bit his lip: "I haven't gone to collect the body of my deceased husband yet."

Zhao Chuanxin lit another cigarette: "Everyone will die, but not everyone has lived. If you are not great before death, you are a stinker. What will happen if you don't accept it after death?"

Abao's mind was shaken, and he felt that sometimes this perverted monk's words were filled with Zen ideas.

But she couldn't get over that hurdle in her heart.

"No. I'm going now."

Seeing her insistence, Zhao Chuanxin asked, "Do you know what kind of person Hu Gentang is? Have you ever dealt with him?"

"This..." Abao hesitated: "My subordinates have dealt with him, and I only heard about it a little bit."

"Tell me, who is Hu Gentang?"

"He... came to Hankou when he was 13 years old and made his living by relying on salt stamps. It is said that this man is unkempt and wears cloth clothes and shoes with patches piled on top of each other all year round. He washes his face without using towels and uses cloth towels. He picks up the food thrown away by his family and continues to eat it when it is hot and smokes. If you roll it yourself, it can be said that you cherish your money as much as your life..."

Zhao Chuanxin gasped, and even the room became warmer.

"I'm so ruthless, I'm really invulnerable..."

Abao frowned and said, "There is one more thing. Although this person loves money as much as his life, he is lustful by nature. He often hangs out in romantic places and forgets to leave. He often spends a lot of money there, but he doesn't care."

You are not willing to give up food or clothes, you are only willing to go whoring, right?

Zhao Chuanxin gave him a thumbs up: "He is truly a kind-hearted person and a role model for the world."

"Bah!" Abao dismissed it: "It's not a good thing, just like you."

"Who are you scolding?" Zhao Chuanxin's nostrils turned upward: "When you go to Fengyuechang, it's usually the girls who spend a lot of money to buy the smiles of poor monks."

In fact, in this century, Zhao Chuanxin had never been to a romantic place.

"You..." Abao really didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

She was fully dressed, and after shivering, she hesitated a little.

Glancing at Zhao Chuanxin, he saw Zhao Chuanxin leaning against the window frame and smoking without any expression.

She looked at the dark sky outside and whispered, "You, are you going?"

Zhao Chuanxin folded his hands, sprayed thin smoke upwards, and said lightly: "You beg me?"

Abao is the strongest in his life, how can he be willing to ask for it?

"Hmph, wishful thinking."

"Haha, then go on your own."

Abao stamped his feet and pushed open the door.

Although there were electric lights in the corridor, it was silent and no one was seen. There were only broken glass on the floor, splashes of soil from broken flower pots, and spots of dripping blood.

The cold wind blew through the windows into the corridor.

Being alone, she felt inexplicably timid.

She quickly came to the stairs and went down the stairs.

As soon as I arrived at the lobby, I saw a group of patrolmen wearing wicker hats and blue uniforms rushing in with rifles in their hands.

Abao saw that the situation was not good, so he turned back.

At this time, a waiter pointed at Abao and said, "This woman came with the monk. They are in the same group."

The French patrolman immediately turned his gun and pointed it at Bao: "Stop, if he runs again, he will shoot."

There are also quick guns in Po's Taihu Pirates team, but of course they are small in number.

At least, she understood what the gun meant, so she stopped and felt miserable in her heart.

Is it possible that I will die in the hands of foreign devils today?

I heard that foreigners are not good people. If some pretty female prisoners fall into their hands, they may not be able to escape their clutches. They may be even more despicable than the lewd monk.

Sure enough, under the crystal chandelier, Abao's pale pink face looked very bright.

She stayed in the bandits' den all year round. Although she could dress up, she didn't have her forehead trimmed like outside. She had two thick braids swaying on both sides, and she still had some baby fat on her face.

The "non-mainstream" style at this time, in the eyes of Zhao Chuanxin and the Frenchman, was rare and beautiful.

Especially her big feet, coupled with years of martial arts training, make her look very healthy and well-proportioned.

The French patrolman's eyes lit up and he walked towards her with a gun in hand, pretending to arrest her, but he tried to grab Po's hand.

Po put his hands behind his back and avoided it.

When the French patrolman saw this, he became angry and glared: "How dare you resist arrest? Give her some color."

He pointed to a Vietnamese patrolman.

There were about thirty people patrolling the scene, including whites, Vietnamese, and Chinese.

In the concession, white patrol officers naturally received the best treatment. Not only did they receive the highest salary, there was also a library specially prepared for them, a billiard room for entertainment, and they also had the opportunity to go out and have fun.

Next is the Vietnamese patrol, and finally the Chinese patrol.

This is how the levels are divided.

The Vietnamese patrolman was like a ferocious monkey, glaring with bull's eyes, scolding and raising his hands, wanting to slap Po.

A Bao is invincible in the Taihu Lake area, and he doesn't even look down on the police.

How could she be willing to suffer such a loss?

So, he used jujitsu and swayed his waist to hide away. At the same time, he subconsciously raised his leg and kicked the Vietnamese patrolman's shin with the toe of his shoe.

Usually when there is a conflict, all it takes is a kick like this to cause them to pounce immediately.

It's just that she forgot that the shoes she is wearing now were bought for her by Zhao Chuanxin, and there is no iron on the top of the shoes.

The original pair of small boots had already been thrown away by Zhao Chuanxin. At that time, he also slandered her and said that her feet were smelly and that the boots were smelly too...

Therefore, although this kick is heavy, it is still within the endurance range of the Vietnam patrol.

After being kicked, the Vietnamese patrolman was furious. He picked up his baton and wanted to beat Po.

Abao was blocked at the entrance of the stairs, unable to escape, so he wanted to raise his forearms to resist, feeling very helpless.

However, she would rather lose her arm than let foreigners take advantage of her.

Abao had raised his forearm but felt no pain.

Because one hand held the solid wood baton that had been smashed down.

Abao looked up in surprise and saw a smiling face looking at him. The tall figure was blocking the Vietnamese patrol and also covering himself. Who else could it be if it wasn't the perverted monk Cheng Kun?

Not only did Abao not realize where Zhao Chuanxin came from, these patrol officers were also confused.

It was as if Zhao Chuanxin suddenly appeared without any warning.

Zhao Chuanxin grabbed the baton of the Vietnamese patrolman, but turned around and smiled at the French patrolman: "My poor little widow, you haven't even touched it yet, and you want to touch it? After all, that hand just wanted to touch it. of?"

In the past, Abao would have been angry if Zhao Chuanxin was so talkative.

At this time, I felt relieved.

That mean smile turns out to be so inviting; that tall body is so calming.

She was so clever that she seemed to be Zhao Chuanxin's little widow. She stuck out her head under Zhao Chuanxin's arm and pointed at the French patrolman's left hand: "He is left-handed, that's the hand."

The Vietnamese patrolman tried to withdraw his baton, but the baton was as solid as cast iron.

Zhao Chuanxin suddenly exerted force, the force was like an overwhelming force. The black monkey-like Vietnamese patrolman was unable to resist at all. The baton was pulled away directly, and the friction on his palms was burning and painful.

With lightning speed, Zhao Chuanxin picked up the stick and struck the French patrolman's left wrist.

Click...

"Ouch..." The French patrolman howled in pain.

Zhao Chuanxin took back his baton and quickly struck the French patrolman on his right shoulder.

The French patrolman let go in pain and dropped the rifle from his shoulder.

Zhao Chuanxin stretched out his left hand and caught it steadily.

The baton in his right hand was swung sideways, causing the French policeman's cheek to deform, and blood and water rising from his two molars.

These two actions are coherent.

Zhao Chuanxin threw away his baton and skillfully and quickly pulled the bolt of the Lebel M1886 rifle. Bang...

The French policeman behind him had just taken out his Marseillaise 1892 revolver. Before he could take aim, he was shot in the head by Zhao Chuanxin.

Zhao Chuanxin leaned forward, caught the fallen Marseillaise 1892 wheel, and quickly fired a shot at the third French policeman who also held a gun.

This gun is double-action, and Zhao Chuanxin doesn't like double-action.

He moved too fast, seriously injuring one person and killing two people in lightning speed.

Everyone is still in a state of confusion.

Abao has seen Zhao Chuanxin kill people before, but this time it was obviously different. Zhao Chuanxin did not use that powerful weapon or spell, but it was still so sharp that it made people breathless.

The Vietnamese patrolman rushed towards Zhao Chuanxin, trying to attack him from behind.

The smart gyroscope vibrated, and Zhao Chuanxin became convinced. Without looking back, he held the gun in his right hand and stretched it into his left armpit.

boom!

But it directly hit the Vietnamese patrol.

When shooting a double-action wheel, the firing rate is extremely slow because the trigger must be pulled to drive the hammer.

But Zhao Chuanxin's power was too great, and he suddenly had a single-action effect.

Bang bang bang...

All the bullets were emptied.

It's just that the caliber of this gun is not good, and its lethality is limited. Not only did the two people who were shot not die, they even rushed forward to fight back.

Zhao Chuanxin threw La Marseillaise 1892 casually, hitting one person in the head and making stars shine in his eyes.

Then he stepped forward, leaping forward and crossing his elbows.

Duang…

Knocked down one person.

The people behind did not have guns and rushed up with batons. Some people saw that the situation was not good and ran away. The scene was chaotic for a time.

For some reason, Zhao Chuanxin did not use his own weapons.

With a tip of his toe, he picked up the Lebel M1886 that he had thrown away, and quickly pulled the bolt.

boom!

The first person fell, and the second person no longer gave Zhao Chuanxin time to pull the bolt.

Zhao Chuanxin held the handguard, turned the handle of the gun, and swung it horizontally. Not only did he knock the Vietnamese patrolman's baton away, but he also broke the bridge of his nose.

It is as powerful as a sword and no one can stop it.

The Vietnamese patrolman screamed and backed away, holding his bloody broken nose.

The Lebel M1886, the standard rifle equipped by the French army, is too bulky and inconvenient to load.

Zhao Chuanxin touched it, but after just a try he lost interest.

He casually pulled out the Lindbergh bayonet on the front of Lebel's M1886, took a step forward, and pushed the Vietnamese patrolman's chest forward.

Another Vietnamese patrolman slapped his companion on the back with a stick. Zhao Chuanxin stabbed Lin Bai's bayonet from the side, once, twice, three times...

Later, the Vietnamese patrolman's body collapsed. His internal organs were damaged and he was 100% unlikely to survive.

Why does three swordsmanship lead to death?

Just because this Lindbergh bayonet looks like a cross when viewed from the tip, which is what people often call a "four-edged bayonet."

This thing is so cruel, stabbing it three times and piercing it deeply will basically make it impossible to survive. Even if it doesn't hit the vital point, in this era, it is difficult for wounds to heal, and the probability of infection without antibiotics is too high.

At first, Zhao Chuanxin was not interested in playing with the Lebel M1886, but he was very interested in the Lindbergh bayonet hanging with the gun.

Of course, he usually doesn't need it.

After stabbing him three times, the Vietnamese patrolman fell down. Zhao Chuanxin stabbed the Vietnamese patrolman with the knife horizontally, pierced the neck of the pushing Vietnamese patrolman, and kicked him away, causing the blood from his artery to spurt out far away.

Rolling on the spot, Zhao Chuanxin picked up a baton on the ground with his left hand, held it against another baton coming from the French patrol, and stabbed him in the abdomen steadily and hard with the bayonet of Lin Bai in his right hand.

laugh……

The French policeman suffered severe pain in his abdomen and howled miserably on the spot.

Zhao Chuanxin poked and prodded him three times in a row, trying to keep him from losing resistance.

The rabbit rises and the falcon falls, and Zhao Chuanxin kills many people in a row with amazing efficiency. The Rudraksha on his neck was swinging, and his bald head was glaring, making him look like a murderous and glaring Vajra without blinking an eye.

All the French police officers present were killed by Zhao Chuanxin. None of the Chinese police officers behind him turned around and ran away.

The salary is lower than that of French and Vietnamese patrolmen, and they are obviously dealing with their own people, and they don't want to fight hard at all.

There are still five or six Vietnamese patrolmen holding batons and shaking their heads in a dilemma.

They were afraid; if they ran, they would definitely be punished by the French if they turned back.

Unfortunately, this is not their country. Even if they escape, they will be out of place in the local area, and they may be captured and brought back in less than half a day.

Zhao Chuanxin straightened up and shook off the blood drops on Lin Bai's bayonet: "Fortunately, this poor monk once learned the technique under the overpass, otherwise he would have been poisoned by you."

Abao's eyes widened from behind.

Before, she only thought that Zhao Chuanxin did whatever he wanted because of his magic skills.

From what I saw today, I realized how powerful Zhao Chuanxin really was.

This is not a flyover style. The style of fighting in the arena like Abao and others is usually a back-and-forth fight, especially a weapon fight.

But when Zhao Chuanxin faces the enemy, if I go instead of you, I will usually die if I touch him, and I will be seriously injured if I touch him.

Victory or defeat is only in an instant.

Zhao Chuanxin suddenly took a step forward, and the group of Vietnamese patrolmen retreated sharply.

Zhao Chuanxin smiled contemptuously, bent down to pick up the rifle, and pulled the bolt again.

When a group of Vietnamese patrolmen with batons saw him, they could no longer suppress their fear and turned around and ran away.

But Zhao Chuanxin had already raised his gun: Bang!

One person fell to the ground.

Throwing away the gun, Zhao Chuanxin turned the Fuhu Ring.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...

The remaining Vietnamese patrolmen flew backward towards Zhao Chuanxin.

Bang, bang, bang...

The man, the baton, and the various objects in the lobby collided with each other, and then hit Zhao Chuanxin. Zhao Chuanxin's arm was a little numb from the shock as he used a shield to block it.

Even he was numb, let alone those Vietnamese patrolmen.

Zhao Chuanxin closed the shield and raised his leg to volley.

With one kick, a patrolman's neck was crooked, and his spine was suddenly broken.

He kicked one at a time and hit the ground with last hits.

In a moment, there was no one alive on the ground.