Taoist priest goes to America

Ang Lee moved quickly, looking like a corporate slave who had just woken up in the morning and suddenly remembered that he hadn't finished the project last night, and sprang to his feet.

The muscle relaxant began to break down ten seconds after entering his bloodstream, and was completely ineffective and metabolized after twenty seconds.

Now is the perfect time to ambush them. Bartender Loca has just finished squatting over a pie, and Mr. Rabbitface is reveling in the pleasure of suffocation and squatting over a pie. All that's needed is to deal with the butler Isya, who has been keeping a close watch on them with a gun.

Doyle also moved from the ground. Its body was like a spring that had been compressed to its limit and suddenly released. It leaped up from the ground and flew into the air, pouncing towards Isya.

Isya reacted quickly, turning his shotgun towards Doyle, but Doyle was moving at a speed that seemed impossible for a human, leaping directly from the ground into the air. Just as Isya was about to raise his gun, Doyle had already collided with him.

The two of them fell to the ground together, and the shotgun slipped from Isya's hand, sliding a long distance across the marble floor before hitting the base of the wall.

Doyle grabbed Isya's face with his left hand and forced his head to the ground.

He then brought his five fingers together to form a hand chop, aiming it at the chest of a black dog.

The hand slash pierced the black dog's chest skin, passing through its ribs and muscles.

Then Doyle pinched his five fingers together and took the dog's heart directly out of the black dog's chest.

The black dog was about to bark when the gushing blood stopped it, leaving only gurgling sounds.

The black dog's arms were still moving, one reaching for its waist, the other for Doyle's face, but Doyle gave it no chance. Its hands moved downwards, its palms like nutcrackers, crushing the black dog's throat.

Seeing Doyle tearing at the black dog's throat like he was pulling noodles, Mr. Rabbit Face finally snapped out of his daze and revealed the intense fear that a normal person should have.

He gripped the barrel of the shotgun with both hands, swung the muzzle off his shoulder, and was about to fire at Doyle when he noticed Li An rushing towards him.

Startled, Mr. Rabbit Face quickly turned his gun around and aimed it at Ang Lee.

However, Doyle was faster. He lifted his hand from Isya's face and forcefully threw the blood-soaked fragment of Isya's suit from his palm. The blood-red fragment flew from his hand and landed precisely on Mr. Rabbit Face's face.

The blood-soaked shards of the suit slammed into Mr. Rabbit Face's eyes, the crimson stain completely obscuring his face, leaving him blind for a moment.

Rabbit Face's finger was still on the trigger, but he didn't know where to aim.

"Bang—" The bullet didn't hit Li Anzhong when it was fired, but instead hit the wall next to Li Anzhong, blasting a hole in the deep red velvet curtain.

Ang Lee had already circled around to Mr. Rabbit Face's side. He reached out with his left hand, grabbed the barrel of the shotgun, and pushed it upwards sharply, pointing the muzzle at the ceiling.

Mr. Rabbit Face was still gripping the gunstock with both hands, trying to wrest the gun back. He was weak, the kind of strength you get from working out in the gym, while Ang Lee's left hand held the barrel like an iron clamp, not moving an inch.

Ang Lee lifted his right foot, heel off the ground, and then pressed down with his full weight, stomping hard on the white pig's left hoof.

The pig's trotter made a "crack" sound under Ang Lee's shoe, the sound of pig bones being crushed.

The entire white pig's trotter under Ang Lee's shoe looked like a flattened lump of clay, with only the heel retaining its original shape, completely separated from the other parts.

The white pig opened its mouth and let out a scream.

The white pig fell backward in pain onto the cold marble floor, its hooves clutching its crushed left foot, curling into a ball.

As the white boar screamed in agony, Loka sprang into action. Instead of rescuing the boar, he went to retrieve Isya's dropped hunting rifle.

Ang Lee raised the hunting rifle he had snatched from Mr. Rabbitface, turned around, and fired a shot directly at Roca.

The skill from Doyle, "Violence for Violence," flashed briefly in his field of vision.

The moment the black pig's right hand touched the handle of the black shotgun, Li An's shotgun shells had already spread out in the air in a fan shape, covering the entire right forearm of the black pig.

"boom--"

The deafening gunshots were accompanied by the sound of flesh and blood splattering. The black pig's trotters looked as if they had been chopped off. The black pig's right forearm and below the elbow joint were completely gone, and the entire trotters had vanished.

The forearm of the black pig's hoof resembles a flag broken by the wind, with the upper half of the flagpole drooping down, only a layer of wood fiber connecting the lower half.

The black pig lay on the ground, its left hoof clutching the broken lower half of the flagpole.

The black pig's left hoof was stuck in the hole, and dark red liquid flowed freely from between its toes. The pig's body was trembling, and its pale face was covered in tears from the pain.

Ang Lee walked over, stood in front of the black pig, and pressed the muzzle of his gun against the pig's abdominal muscles.

The black pig's abdominal muscles gleamed under the light, coated with a thin layer of sweat and traces of snow that had just splashed onto its face; the well-defined muscles trembled violently.

"Ah—" The black pig fought back fiercely, using its blood-stained left hoof to knock away Li An's gun barrel, and then scrambled towards the door.

Ang Lee, exhausted, looked in the direction the cat was running away and pulled the trigger.

The black pig was wearing black pants, and Ang Lee's shotgun pellets hit it precisely.

The pork was instantly torn to pieces, and countless drops of blood shot out from the pig's body. Dark red liquid mixed with a transparent unidentified liquid gushed out from the bullet holes and flowed onto the cold marble floor.

The black pig fell backward, lying on its back in its snowdrift, convulsing continuously.

Its eyes were still open, but its gaze was beginning to glaze over. Its lips were moving, but it could no longer make a sound. Snow poured from its left hoof, mingling with the snow on its belly.

Ang Lee lowered the shotgun from his shoulder; the barrel was still smoking and glowing red-hot.

He turned around and walked toward Mr. Rabbit Face.

Mr. Rabbit Face lay on the ground, clutching his crushed left foot with both hands, his body still trembling.

His face was covered in blood, but it wasn't his own; it was blood from the suit that had flown over Isya's face and smeared it all over his face, but it had dried by now.

The rabbit-faced man's eyes were filled with tears and fear. His groin had gone limp from fright, the bulge had disappeared, and a pale yellow liquid was flowing out from under him, spilling onto the ground.

The soaked bathrobe clung to his thighs, crumpled up in a ball.

Seeing Li An approach, the white pig disregarded the pain, loosened its hands from its trampled hooves, braced itself on the ground, and shrank back, wriggling like a maggot in an attempt to escape Li An.

But his back hit the bars of the iron cage, and there was nowhere to back up.

The body of the middle-aged man whose head he had shot was right there, but now it was his turn.

Ang Lee walked up to him and shoved the scorching hot muzzle of his shotgun into the rabbit-faced man's mouth. Then he squatted down and stared into the eyes of Mr. Rabbit Face.

Mr. Rabbit Face's face was contorted, and tears and snot streamed down his face, mingling with the dried blood.

His lips were trembling, his teeth were chattering, and he was making a "de de de" sound.

Ang Lee looked at him, and the corners of his mouth slowly turned up.

"Now it's my turn to play."