Thanks for the review, also about that. The 15 reviews get 30 chapters, needs to happen before chapter 70, cuz once i upload 30 chapters, there'll basically be 100 chapters on here, but here's the thing. There's only 167 chapters "available" before i have to pay for raw chapters, did you know there's almost 300 chapters of this fic? its ongoing. I'll barely have breathing room for my 50+ chapters on patreon. but hey even if we dont reach 15 reviews before chapter 70, I'll still upload 15 chapters.
Chapter 59
Though Lloyd was elderly, he'd spent most of his life on horseback. His riding skills were exquisite.
One end of the lasso looped around the saddle horn, dragging Cliff forward across the ground.
His back scraped against the earth. Cliff could feel the skin and flesh on his back being ground away layer by layer. He realized with horror—was he going to be ground to death on the ground like this?
Despair gripped his throat. Cliff wanted to beg for mercy, wanted a quick death, but his mouth had been gagged and he couldn't make a sound.
Lloyd didn't look back. He said flatly, "Afraid? Terrified?"
"You should be afraid. You should be terrified."
Lloyd turned his head. He saw Cliff's terrified eyes and smiled faintly. "Cowboys don't forget grudges."
"You should regret sparing us."
Cliff no longer had any vengeful thoughts. His back, buttocks, even the back of his head—all carried a burning sensation. That was the pain of skin completely ground to shreds.
Cliff strained his neck, trying to keep his head's distance from the ground, reducing the pain by a fraction.
But whenever he couldn't hold on and his head contacted the ground again, the pain would assault him even more violently.
Lloyd seemed able to feel Cliff's pain. He urged his mount to increase speed.
The sound of Cliff's whimpering in his ears, along with the howling wind—both made him immensely pleased.
Following at the rear, Colby and Tate watched the carefree Lloyd easily torturing Cliff.
Tate nodded sincerely. "I still need to learn."
"Lloyd's been an old cowboy for decades. I heard he used to be a rodeo competitor. His riding skills are amazing."
"Much better than Rip, though probably not as good as the boss."
Colby spoke of Lloyd's history with great pride, as if the one who'd stood at the peak of rodeo competition wasn't Lloyd but himself.
"Colby, you need to practice your riding. You're the worst on the ranch."
At this point, Ryan arrived late, appearing behind the two, tossing out that flat criticism.
Colby choked. In the dim night, his face flushed red with shame. After freezing for a moment, he defended himself: "No—isn't there still Jimmy?"
"Jimmy? Jimmy hasn't come back yet. Don't make excuses, Colby." Ryan rode his horse, easily passing Colby with a relaxed manner.
Colby gathered his strength, secretly urging his horse to speed up. But after accelerating for quite a while, he still couldn't catch up to Ryan.
Ryan rode his horse, advancing unhurriedly, as if he hadn't noticed Colby's little maneuvers.
Watching the exasperated Colby, Tate stepped up: "Don't worry, Colby. With me here, I definitely won't let your riding be at the bottom of the ranch."
Tate's protective words didn't stop Ryan's smile.
Ryan turned his head and repeated to Colby in a mocking tone, "Don't worry, Colby. I definitely won't let your riding be at the bottom of the ranch."
"Want some milk, Colby?"
"Fuck you!"
Colby was furious. He cursed and wanted to charge over. Unfortunately, there was a genuine gap in riding skill—he couldn't get even a bit closer.
When Lloyd dragged the corpse of Cliff—dead at some unknown point—back to appear at Cliff's ranch's cabin, Caesar had been waiting a long time.
"What took so long?" Caesar asked.
Lloyd looked back at Cliff's corpse. "Couldn't help myself."
Caesar followed Lloyd's gaze and saw Cliff's corpse with several layers of back ground away. A long trail of blood stretched behind on the ground—you couldn't see the end.
"Destroy its head and hang it up."
"Hurry up. We still have another ranch to hit."
"Okay."
Lloyd acknowledged and dragged Cliff to ride to Cliff's ranch boundary.
Several walkers already hung there. The two teammates Cliff had shot earlier were also up there. Except for Cliff, all the remaining people hung there neatly and orderly.
After Cliff's head was destroyed, Lloyd struggled to hang Cliff up.
Now several corpses swayed in the air with the wind, like other branches of an oak tree.
Only blood kept dripping down. The bloody smell carried an iron-blooded declaration toward the other ranches.
...
Merle wasn't as cautious as Morales. He rode his motorcycle, deliberately making huge noise.
Waking the members of the target ranch.
Merle looked at the enemies in windows not far away and laughed hoarsely, shouting, "Little piggies, start running."
While shouting loudly, Merle raised his carbine and fired randomly at the cabin.
The pickups following behind also had team members emerging from windows. They shouted while shooting.
Dense bullets flew rapidly across the grass, hitting the cabin with thudding sounds.
The bullets were exceptionally numerous, the firepower very heavy, alarming the enemies inside.
The enemies weren't many in number—only six or seven people. They could only manage one gun per person, and those were handguns.
Comparing the two sides, they made a wise decision.
Run!
The motorcycle and pickup headlights were like pressing swords piercing toward the cabin. The enemies inside the cabin fled rapidly.
Merle saw his objective achieved. The arc of his smile widened. He raised one hand high. "Chase them!"
The motorcycle and pickups began turning around, pursuing the enemies.
A pickup charged forward, crashing through the ranch's boundary fence, driving onto the ranch's internal roads, headlights shining directly on the enemies.
This ranch was different from Cliff's group. This ranch was surrounded by grassland—no woods, no places to hide.
The enemies ran forward in panic. Seeing Merle and the others appear behind them, their hearts jumped in alarm. They quickly grabbed guns and fired wildly backward.
Perhaps the pressure was too strong, or perhaps Merle's people approached too quickly—the enemies didn't even aim, just fired randomly.
The bullets not only failed to hit a single person, they didn't even graze the pickups.
Merle saw the distance was right and decisively raised his hand to shoot.
Bullets struck the gravel road. The flying stones hit the enemies painfully, but they didn't dare stop.
"Open fire."
Now the subordinates no longer fired randomly. They aimed at enemies before shooting.
At high speeds, the bullets' accuracy wasn't high.
Merle had the team members' pickups maintain speed—not giving the enemies a chance to catch their breath, but also not running them over directly.
Merle wanted to use this opportunity to practice the team members' marksmanship.
Several enemies ran forward desperately, no longer thinking of fighting back. They'd even dropped several guns, just running mechanically.
BANG—
Like the previous gunshots, but this time one of their companions fell.
Then gunshots rang out again. From time to time another companion would fall.
The remaining two people let out miserable screams. Tears mixed with snot flowed down. Their feet had run bloody blisters.
But they still didn't dare stop.
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