In his haste to catch the cart, Zhao Jun hadn't had a chance to drop his gun off at home.
But carrying a gun around was obviously not an option, whether on the cart, in the city, or inside stores.
Luckily, there were no security checks in those days. Zhao Jun had wrapped the gun in a burlap sack. On the entire journey, aside from the male employee who bought his mountain goods, not a single other person had asked what he had rolled up inside.
Yellow Cotton-padded Jacket and his band of robbers had foolishly believed Zhao Jun's lie, thinking he was actually carrying a pickaxe handle.
And all seven of them were armed to the teeth. Why would they be afraid of Zhao Jun and Li Baoyu?
But what the group of thugs never expected was that the kid was a damn liar. The so-called pickaxe handle had suddenly become a gun.
The moment Zhao Jun raised the gun and aimed it at Yellow Cotton-padded Jacket, the man's blood ran cold.
