Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 229 Please do not urinate or defecate indiscriminately
"Who exactly are you?" the man asked in a low voice, afraid of attracting the gunman's attention.

"That's not the point."

Zhou Yi glanced at the tourists being roughly searched at the other end of the lobby and calmly said, "They are the LRA, the Holy Spirit Resistance Army."

The man's expression immediately turned ugly.

"Weren't those lunatics wiped out long ago?"

“Last month,” Zhou Yi corrected, “the main force died in the woods to the north, and now there are only one or two hundred left. What you saw was part of them.”

The man fell silent, staring intently at the corpse lying in the center of the hall.

What do they want?

"Let's take a group photo," Zhou Yi said seriously.

"Haha, just kidding."

“They would drag people into a room, line them up, recite a few verses, and then behead them one by one.”

"You're good-looking; your head should be able to be placed at the very front."

As soon as he finished speaking, the man's face fell, as if he had swallowed a lump of hot excrement.

“Are you crazy?!” he said.

“Maybe,” Zhou Yi shrugged, “but they’ve definitely gone mad.”

The man kept taking deep breaths, and his fingers trembled uncontrollably.

He subconsciously looked around and saw several people across the street pulling up makeshift curtains and sealing the gate with steel cables.

“Tell me your last name, and I can take you out,” Zhou Yi said.

The man clearly didn't believe him, and asked in a hoarse voice, "How could you—"

However, before he could finish speaking, Zhou Yi reached behind his waist, pulled out a pistol, and cocked it in front of him.

The man was stunned for a few seconds, as if he hadn't reacted yet.

However, after he finally recognized what it was, his eyes widened as if he had been burned.

"You want to use that to take them out? What's this? 007?"

"I think I'm more like Sylvester Stallone."

".?"

Zhou Yi ignored his silence and continued to bluff, "Anyway, it's death, either beheading or shooting."

"Instead of relying on Uganda's military and police forces, I'd rather take a gamble; at least I'll aim."

"."

"."

After a long while, the man seemed to finally accept the situation.

He swallowed hard and, forcing a smile, asked, "Can I know your plan first?"

“Tell me your last name,” Zhou Yi said with great interest.

This time, after a moment's hesitation, the man quickly whispered, "...Li."

“Very good, Mr. Li,” Zhou Yi nodded. “The restroom at the other end of the lobby has a window facing the back alley. The opening isn’t small, and you’re not too fat, so it’s perfect for you.”

"But...how do you plan to get there?"

"If what you say is true, these terrorists wouldn't let us run around like this."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yi did not continue to explain, but instead gave him a mysterious smile.

Just as the man frowned, about to say something more, he suddenly reached out and grabbed the other person's collar.

Then, he swung his arm around and smashed it into his stomach.

With a dull thud, the man's knees buckled, and he immediately knelt on the ground.

Immediately afterwards, he gagged twice and painfully vomited.

The liquid, mixed with alcohol and stomach acid, sprayed onto the floor, emitting a pungent smell.

"Not bad acting." Zhou Yi said, helping him up, then anxiously asked, "Brother, what's wrong? Are you okay?" The man's stomach felt like it was on fire, and he vomited twice more upon hearing this.

The repeated commotion attracted the attention of soldiers not far away.

Several black men approached with guns at them and shouted a couple of words in Swahili in an unfriendly tone.

Before the other party could react, Zhou Yi raised his hands high, feigning suppressed fear, and quickly said:
"I'm sorry, my friend is sick. He ate some fermented dried fish from the lake for lunch today, and now he's not feeling well."

The leading soldier didn't speak, but glanced down at the vomit on the ground.

The man was still groaning weakly, covered in sweat, and seemed to be on the verge of fainting.

Zhou Yi paused, then added, "He seems to need to poop, he can't hold it in any longer."

Another soldier was disgusted, took a half step back, cursed under his breath, and raised his gun to attack.

The leader reached out and blocked him.

He stared at their Asian faces and said meaningfully, "These two will be saved for last."

"Now, take them to the toilet."

The soldier who was called out was clearly reluctant, but under pressure, he still accepted the guard duty.

After a quick search, Zhou Yi, supporting the man who was "almost there," led him through the lobby to the restroom, accompanied by two escorts.

The space wasn't cramped, and the floor was covered with dark gray tiles, which were cold, hard, and clean.

At the end of the road was the window Zhou Yi had mentioned, fitted with frosted glass, preventing any outside noise from getting through.

"That one," a soldier said impatiently, pointing with the muzzle of his gun at one of the compartments.

The man clutched his stomach with both hands, staggered closer, and vomited into the toilet as soon as he stepped inside.

Zhou Yi followed closely behind, making a gesture to help, his right shoulder slightly lowered and his left foot slightly back to stand still.

The next second, he suddenly sprang up and crashed into the chest of the soldier behind him.

The man suddenly felt pain and involuntarily bent over.

Almost simultaneously, Zhou Yi's mind raced. He summoned his pistol, gripped it upside down, and swung it into the enemy's occipital bone. The force was so great that the enemy instantly lost consciousness, staggered backward, and collapsed to the ground.

The second person only realized something was wrong at this moment and was about to fire, but the distance was too close and he could not move freely.

Zhou Yi had already taken two steps forward, inserted his weapon under the man's armpit, and used the momentum to throw the man sideways.

The soldier was thrown into the wall and, in a panic, tried to resist, but was suddenly struck in the abdomen with a knee.

With a muffled groan, he felt a sharp pain in his ribs, his breath caught in his throat, and his center of gravity was forced backward.

Zhou Yi seized the opportunity to control the back of the enemy's neck, turned around by pushing off with his feet, and slammed his head hard against the edge of the sink.

With two sharp "bangs," blood splattered onto the mirror and slid down the glass.

For some reason, the enemy had not completely lost consciousness and was still struggling instinctively.

Zhou Yi simply let go, and pressed down on his shoulder blades to stabilize his upper body.

He wrapped his left arm around his chin, grabbed him, and quickly twisted him to the opposite side.

"Click."

The restroom fell silent instantly.

All that could be heard was a faint broadcast announcement from outside, the unfamiliar language revealing a certain madness.

The man in the cubicle was so shocked that he forgot the excruciating pain in his abdomen for a moment, his mind completely captivated by the twisted corpse on the ground.

Zhou Yi stood up, kicked the two rifles to the wall, and tucked the pistol behind his waist.

“Let’s go,” he said casually. “Problem solved.”

Upon hearing this, the man jumped to his feet.

"They...they're all dead?"

“Of course,” Zhou Yi said, reaching out to open the window, “but you’d better hurry.”

(End of this chapter)