I revived the Demonic Sect in North America

The old man was not angered by Justin's offense.

He gently ran his hand over a dented bullet hole-like wound on his chest, his movements very light, as if touching a precious old object.

Then he laughed and said:

"These scars were left a long time ago in another place."

Emily asked curiously:

"What place is this, sir? Why are the people there treating you so cruelly?"

The old man glanced at her, his gaze seemingly drifting to the distant past. The smile on his face gradually faded, and he calmly said:

Have you heard of these places...?

"For example, Vietnam?"

"For example, the Mekong Delta?"

"For example, the Ho Chi Minh Trail?"

Even after the old man mentioned several unfamiliar places, Justin still looked bewildered and seemed completely lost.

Jennifer, the usually calm Asian girl standing nearby, covered her mouth and cried out in a trembling voice:

"Vietnam? The Vietnam War? You mean the Vietnam War? Are you a veteran of the Vietnam War?"

After all, everyone was an elite from a private high school. Even Justin, who was relatively simple-minded, immediately understood the old black man's identity after Jennifer reminded him.

The crowd erupted in uproar.

Seeing the excited reaction of these young people, even the usually composed old black man couldn't help but show a hint of pride on his face.

Justin, however, was somewhat skeptical and couldn't help but question:

"Damn it, with your grotesque appearance, you say you fought in the Vietnam War?"

The old man scoffed dismissively, seemingly too lazy to argue with someone as wise as Justin.

But in order to prove his glorious status as a Vietnam War veteran, the old black man slowly pulled out the olive green military jacket that had been placed under him.

However, when he lifted his jacket to shake off the dust, an accident occurred.

"Snapped!"

With a dull thud as something heavy hit the concrete, a dark, heavy object slipped out of the old black man's folded jacket and landed at everyone's feet.

Immediately afterwards, several boxes of bright yellow bullets wrapped together with transparent tape, and a square package the size of an A4 sheet of paper wrapped in oilcloth rolled out.

Li Ang keenly observed that one corner of the oilcloth wrapping had come undone, revealing some white crystalline powder packaged in small transparent plastic bags.

A storm raged within Li Ang's heart.

What is this?

poison?

Such a big bag?

Li Ang turned his gaze to the dark, heavy object that had fallen to the ground first, and it turned out to be a pistol!

This pistol is not a common Glock or Luger.

Instead, it is a classic Colt M1911 .45 ACP caliber semi-automatic pistol.

This gun was designed by American John Browning in 1911 and manufactured by Colt.

It was officially equipped by the U.S. military the following year and remained in service until 1985 when it was replaced.

This gun, as a standard weapon of the U.S. military, saw action in World War I, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and the Gulf War.

During its 74-year service life, a total of approximately 270 million were produced.

It is one of the most produced standard-issue handguns in the history of the United States.

Such an illustrious military record also testifies to the excellent quality of this gun.

Its main features are reliability, durability, and ease of maintenance, but its destructive power is also quite astonishing.

The old black man's Colt rifle has a classic military matte black finish.

The grip is made of military green checkered plastic.

The barrel and slide show obvious signs of wear and aging.

However, it is very well maintained, and there are no serious signs of corrosion on the entire gun.

It's clear that the old black man has a lot of affection for this gun and cherishes this antique.

The moment Justin, who was closest to the old black man, saw the pistol fall to the ground, he was terrified.

His face turned deathly pale instantly, and he staggered backward, almost falling to the ground.

Emily and the other girls in the team also let out a loud scream at the same time:

"Oh my God!"

Li Ang's pupils contracted sharply, and almost instinctively, he pulled Emily, who was closest to him, into his arms to protect her.

At the same time, his eyes were fixed on the pistol on the ground and the old man, his whole body tensed up, and he entered a state of high alert.

Be prepared to use other students in front of you as shields so that you and Emily can escape.

The old black man was also taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, and a hint of annoyance flashed across his face.

But he reacted very quickly and regained his composure.

The old man didn't pick up the gun. Instead, he raised his hands, indicating that he posed no threat, and loudly reassured the crowd:

"Hey, you little rascals, relax! This was just an accident. Look me in the eyes, kids, look at me! I meant no harm!"

His voice carried an unquestionable authority characteristic of a veteran of the battlefield, which temporarily quelled the students' panic.

Everyone stared at him, still in shock.

The old black man dared not provoke the crowd any further.

Under the students' watchful eyes, he slowly bent down, carefully picked up the tattered oilcloth bundle, quickly rewrapped it, and stuffed it back into his jacket.

Then, at the same pace, he slowly picked up the pistol and the bullets scattered on the ground.

Li Ang noticed that the old black man picked up the gun and first removed the magazine to check it.

The magazines are all full.

The old man pulled the slide again to confirm that there was no bullet in the chamber.

His movements were so practiced that they were as natural as breathing.

After doing all this, he faced the students again, his face once more displaying that kind and approachable smile, and apologized:

"Sorry, kids, I startled you. But I think you good kids from a Manhattan private high school will forgive an old Vietnam War veteran who has a bad memory and always leaves things lying around."

The group looked at each other, still somewhat shaken.

Even Justin, who used to be the most arrogant, doesn't dare to say a word now.

The old black man didn't seem to care and casually flipped open the collar of his military jacket.

Several stripes of ribbon sewn into the jacket lining were visible, along with a metal badge pinned to the top.

He demonstrated it to everyone:

"Hey kids, what I actually wanted to show you is this."

Everyone looked on curiously.

At the very top of the jacket's lining was a blue brooch with a silver star.

Below that is a bronze star medal with a V-sign of bravery.

And the Purple Heart medal with two clusters of bronze oak leaves.

Below that is a prisoner of war medal.

At the very bottom, there are two combat infantry badges and a high-ranking paratrooper badge.

Although all the badges look badly worn, even a complete novice who knows nothing about military affairs can tell the significance of this pile of medals.

Jennifer, a well-traveled and knowledgeable Asian woman, couldn't help but exclaim:

"Oh! The Silver Star, the Bronze Star of Valor, the Purple Heart of Combat... Oh my God! You are not only a soldier in the Vietnam War, but also a decorated combat hero of the United States!"