Dare to shirk responsibility? This adorable little one will tear down your military district!

The scarred man's eerie laughter echoed far across the vast desert as he rode his horse, looking down at the broken clay gun in his hand.

"Listen up, you green-skinned soldiers!" Scarface roared in his rough voice, "Throw down your camels, water, rations, and all the gold and silver in your bags! I'm in a good mood today. Men, get out of here. Leave that woman here to keep the brothers company, and I'll spare your lives!"

These bandits have been running rampant along the edge of the Taklamakan Desert for many years, making their fortunes by robbing passing caravans and lone gold prospectors.

In their eyes, the thirty or so soldiers below, though armed with rifles, were outnumbered and surrounded by their forty or fifty men occupying the high ground; they were like meat on a chopping board.

Dozens of skinny horses snorted in unison, their hooves kicking up large swaths of yellow earth as they trotted restlessly across the sandy slope.

Old Ma was terrified out of his wits. He buried his head under the camel's belly, clutched his head, and trembled like he was having an epileptic fit, howling in his hoarse voice:

"Sir! Sir! These damned sand bandits are unreasonable! Give them the big yellow croaker! It's better to pay them off than fight them head-on and they'll all die in this sandy place!"

Gu Changfeng kicked Lao Ma in the thigh, annoyed by his noise: "Shut your bird beak, if you make another sound, I'll throw you out."

Old Ma groaned as he was kicked, and quickly covered his mouth with his two dirty hands, not daring to utter a sound.

Gu Changfeng shielded Lin Wanrou behind him with his left hand, his tall frame like a solid brick wall. Without even glancing at the bandits above, he turned his head and ordered, "Platoon Leader Li."

"Here!" Platoon Leader Li crouched behind the sand pile, the butt of his semi-automatic rifle pressed firmly against his shoulder, his finger resting steadily on the trigger guard.

"Everyone take cover, put the safety on." Gu Changfeng's voice was as cold as frost. "No firing without my order. Anyone who dares to rush into the 20-meter circle, don't even aim, just shoot the horse's legs and chest. Save your bullets."

"Yes, sir!" The thirty elite soldiers pulled back their rifle bolts in perfect unison.

The clanging of metal created a continuous sound as the black muzzles of guns fanned out towards the sand dunes above, yet not a single person showed any fear.

These were veterans who had crawled out of piles of corpses; in their eyes, dozens of bandits with broken knives and homemade guns were nothing more than chickens and dogs.

Ya Ya, who had been nestled under the hem of Gu Changfeng's military overcoat, immediately brightened up when she heard the commotion. She pulled out a small-leaf sandalwood slingshot from the pocket of her tactical vest and then casually took out two shiny black solid steel balls.

"Dad, their horses are so skinny, their bones are practically piercing the skin!" Ya Ya stretched the slingshot rubber band very long, tested its strength, and said with her little mouth, "That ugly monster with a giant centipede on its face is shouting so loudly, and its mouth smells so bad. Can I use the slingshot to knock out its front teeth?"

When Gu Changfeng saw this little devil pull out a slingshot, fearing she might get up and run around and get shot by the homemade gun, he placed his large hand directly on her forehead and pressed her down: "You stay behind the cover and peel candy. You're not allowed to go anywhere. This kind of dirty work is none of your business. If you get your clothes dirty, your mother will be angry with me."

Lin Wanrou, standing behind, was also sweating nervously. She pulled Ya Ya into her arms and hugged her tightly, saying, "Ya Ya, be good, don't move around. Guns don't discriminate, listen to your father."

Niu Dan squatted down next to Ya Ya, holding the cast iron boning knife in his palm with the blade against his forearm. His eyes were fixed on the carotid artery on the bandit horse's neck, and he had already planned in his mind where to stab someone first to bleed them out the fastest if someone rushed down.

Scarface on the sandbar waited for a long time, but instead of seeing the soldiers below surrender, he saw a little girl, about five years old, gesturing with a wooden stick and calling him an ugly monster.

His scar on his face turned purplish-red with anger; he couldn't save face.

"Damn it, they won't listen to reason! They won't learn their lesson until they're faced with death!" Scarface raised his homemade gun above his head. "Men, fire! Take down the leaders, tie up the women and take them back!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than several impatient bandits raised their long-handled muskets and pulled the triggers.

"Bang! Bang bang!"

The inferior gunpowder exploded, sending a thick white smoke billowing from the sandbar. The homemade guns were filled with iron pellets and shredded iron, which, though inaccurate, covered a wide area.

Gu Changfeng was prepared. Just before the gunshot rang out, he pressed Lin Wanrou and Ya Ya down into the sandpit with his large hands, his strong back completely shielding them.

Iron pellets struck the camel's thick fur, causing it to cry out in pain and kneel on the sand, forming a natural bulletproof wall. A few small stones fell with a "thud" onto Gu Changfeng's military overcoat, leaving not even a mark.

Scarface gritted his teeth in anger when he saw that the first volley of musket fire hadn't even drawn blood. He threw the empty musket to one of his henchmen, drew his blood-grooved scimitar, and slammed the back of the blade hard against the horse's rump.

"Charge! Chop off all the men's heads and take everything!"

Dozens of thin horses, in pain, neighed and took off, kicking up clouds of yellow sand that blotted out the sky, rushing straight down the steep slope of the sand dunes.

The bandits on horseback brandished their gleaming curved swords, uttering all sorts of unpleasant cries, and charged menacingly toward the army-green defensive line below.

The sound of horses' hooves thundered across the sand, making the ground tremble. A gust of wind, carrying waves of heat and the stench of horses, swept over us.

Old Ma was so frightened that he didn't even have the strength to cry, and he kept kowtowing on the ground.

Gu Changfeng drew his Type 54 pistol from his back waist and flicked the safety with his thumb. He didn't rush to order his men to fire.

In this desolate desert heartland, large-scale gunfire can travel extremely far. If it attracts those well-equipped foreign mercenaries or even larger bandit gangs, it will be troublesome.

To catch a thief, first catch the leader. To deal with this rabble, scare the leader out of his wits, and the rest will naturally scatter like birds and beasts.

He straightened up, letting the wind and sand hit his face, and stared intently at the scarred-faced man at the front. The scarred-faced man wore a tattered sheepskin hat with a tuft of red feathers tied on top, which jiggled conspicuously in the wind and sand.

Ya Ya peeked half her head out from beside Gu Changfeng's thigh, pointing at the scarred face and giggling, "Dad! Look at that ugly monster, he even has a red broom on his head! Hit his red broom!"

Gu Changfeng's lips twitched. This girl really loves to stir up trouble.

Scarface's horse had already reached within thirty meters of the defensive line. He clearly saw that the soldiers below hadn't even fired their guns, assuming that these green-clad men were all terrified. He raised his scimitar high, aimed at Gu Changfeng, who was standing the straightest, and prepared to use the momentum of the horse's charge to chop off the officer's head in one stroke.

"Give me your life!" Scarface laughed maniacally.

Twenty meters, fifteen meters.

The thirty elite soldiers didn't even blink, their fingers firmly on the triggers.

Lin Wanrou clutched her chest, barely daring to breathe. Niu Dan's body was taut like a bow, ready to leap at any moment.

Gu Changfeng didn't retreat a single step. His right arm was held horizontally, and the Type 54 pistol in his hand was as steady as if it were cast in iron. The dark muzzle was pointed directly at the tuft of red tassels that were swaying up and down.

In this desolate place where yellow sand filled the sky, he exerted force with his index finger and slowly pulled the trigger.