Chapter 597: Here's to You

Chapter 597 Here's to You

"I think I get what you mean," Zhang Heng nodded.

Trekking under the scorching sun for more than five hours, his body was weak, and he still had no idea where he or Lincoln County was. Having finally found his own kind in the vast, unforgiving Gobi desert, Zhang Heng vowed to be as friendly as he could be when he walked into the bar.

But so far, it looked as if his plan was about to fail.

Historians repeatedly emphasized the devastation brought on by the vigorous westward expansion into Native Indian territory. In a mere century, about a million Indians were slaughtered (during the westward expansion), and the rest were forced to move to reservations. However, the sacrifices that the Chinese made were rarely mentioned.

After the Civil War, the United States outlawed slavery. Around the same time, westward expansion saw Europeans rapidly developing uncultivated lands. Laying railways required a lot of cheap labor, so businessmen turned their sights to Southeast Asia. During the Qing Dynasty, China experienced a population boom and was under threat from the Taiping Rebellion. Insurgencies sprouted like mushrooms after the rain. As a result, large numbers of the poorer class fled to Hong Kong and Macau. Later, many were tricked into sailing to the Americas to become coolies, hard laborers who were paid meager salaries could bear hardships, subservient, and willing to do all sorts of dangerous work. The Transcontinental Railroad, dubbed one of the Seven Wonders of the Industrial World, spanned over 3,000 kilometers and ran through the entire North American subcontinent. Almost all of the most challenging and dangerous sections of the railroad were completed by Chinese workers. In later years, there was a popular saying that described it-There is a Chinese worker's skeleton under each sleeper of the Transcontinental Railroad.

However, the influx of these cheap laborers, who did more work than they ate and almost never slept, severely affected the United States' labor market. Discrimination against Chinese workers also reached its peak at that time, especially when the railway was nearing completion. Worried that Chinese labor unions would flock to nearby cities and towns and snatch jobs away from the locals, miners attacked the Chinese laborers. The men barged into their camps at night with knives and guns, forcing the frightened Chinese laborers to flee.

During this period, discrimination against Chinese workers was nothing new, and it was not just verbal abuse that the immigrant workers had to endure. So, while Zhang Heng could not ascertain if the story the bear-like man told was right, he had read somewhere that such things really did take place. During the nineteenth century, in the West, someone shot and killed a black cowboy simply because he did not like black people. The criminal fled before the sheriff arrived and escaped incognito to another town to drink some more. There, at the bar, he saw another colored man. Unable to control his overwhelming urge, he drew his gun and killed the innocent man. Fortunately, he was quickly surrounded and shot dead by the bailiff.

Countless other similar occurrences as such had happened in the West.

This was a place where bullets took precedence over reasoning. Every person was their own walking constitution. The faster your shots were, the more effective your law became.

Zhang Heng was not mad. In fact, he understood their way of thinking. He came to the bar by himself, thirsty and tired, and unarmed. Forget guns; he did not so much as have a knife on him. The seven strong men in the bar, on the other hand, were armed to their teeth. They were drunk, and it would be a challenge to stop them from seeking some fun at a moment like this.

Zhang Heng had to admit that he had taken the wrong route—there was no point being friendly with hoodlums in a place like this. But it did not matter since dealing with thugs and villains had always been his strength. Perhaps it had been far too long since the Black Sail quest that he had almost forgotten the standard method of dealing with a situation like this.

Zhang Heng picked up an empty beer bottle from the bar and raised it. He looked at the bear-like man and said, "Here's to you for helping me recall those nostalgic times." While the man was still wondering why Zhang Heng employed an empty bottle to make a toast, the bottle suddenly appeared right in front of him. Zhang Heng pressed the beer bottle upon the man's face and then punched the glass's bottom.

There was a loud crack—the sickly sound of the man's nose breaking.

The few people in the bar were confounded. They were enjoying themselves a moment ago, then out of nowhere, one of their companions was struck. Was this Chinese man blind? Did he not see where he was? Wouldn't most people just leave the bar with their tails between their legs in a situation like this? Why would anyone strike first?

The six men in the bar reacted almost instantly. The guy toying with a rifle immediately raised his gun, but Zhang Heng was too fast for him. As the bear-like man stumbled backward after getting hit by the glass bottle, Zhang Heng grabbed the man's revolver on his belt.

Both weapons were raised at almost the same time, but Zhang Heng was half a second faster. He pulled the trigger, and a spray of red exploded from the other guy's head. The poor soul fell face down on a table, motionless.

Immediately after, Zhang Heng pointed the revolver's barrel at the poker table, prompting the man wearing a thick mustache and the skinny man at the table to pull out their weapons. Zhang Heng ignored the skinny man and shot the mustached man in the chest. The skinny man also pulled the trigger, but perhaps it was because he was too nervous that the bullet missed Zhang Heng and hit the alcohol rack behind him.

Zhang Heng did not even so much as blink. He pulled the trigger again and finished off the guy next to the skinny one. Just then, the one playing with the dagger stormed towards Zhang Heng, the dagger aiming squarely at his chest. The skinny guy also had a precise aim at Zhang Heng. Yet at a time like this, despite knowing where he was going to end up regardless of who he went for, Zhang Heng remained calm. In the end, he chose the guy with the dagger. As soon as he pulled the trigger, he lunged towards the dagger.

Then when the blade was just inches away from him, the bullet tore through the man with the dagger and killed him, his falling body blocking the barrel of the skinny man's gun.

Zhang Heng fired again and hit the skinny man in between the brow. The sound of gunfire woke the drunk man snoring away in the corner of the room. When he opened his eyes and found his companions lying lifelessly around him, his mouth fell open, looking as if he had seen a ghost. Fortunately for him, the shock only lasted for a brief moment because Zhang Heng saved the last bullet for him.

All of this happened in a matter of seconds. Unless you saw it with your own eyes, you probably would not believe that seven armed men would be wiped out in such a short time.

Only

Zhang Heng tossed the empty revolver aside, picked up the lever action on the ground, then fired a shot at the bar's owner.

The latter's body was thrown back, slamming into the racks of liquor. A look of shock filled the man's eyes. He was reaching for the revolver when Zhang Heng shot him. The man did not stand a chance.

Zhang Heng sighed aloud. "Well, now that this has happened, I might as well go all the way. Why should I have to try and blend in?"

Pity, the bar owner was not alive to hear it.

Zhang Heng picked a clean glass from the bar, walked to the poker table, and poured himself a whiskey glass. He finished it in one gulp, finally rehydrating his body. After that, he picked up a stool and brought it to where the bear-like man with the broken nose was sitting

The way the man looked at Zhang Heng had changed completely. Having witnessed his companions killed before his eyes, that big, muscular body was now curled into a ball, sitting on the ground trembling and ignoring his bleeding. He asked in a terrified voice, "You...who are you?"

Zhang Heng sat down on the stool.

"Why don't we leave this question for the last, and you can answer a few of mine. How does that sound?"