Taoist priest goes to America

Two AR-15s fired simultaneously, with Li An's right shoulder and left shoulder both against the buttstock.

The spent cartridges bounced out of the ejection port, leaving streaks of brass light under the warm yellow lamplight, and fell onto the carpet like shooting stars.

The bullets hit the sofa, the leather surface exploded, feathers and sponge flew everywhere, and several people on the sofa were hit by the bullets. A red mist sprayed out from behind the sofa.

The bullet pierced through the backrest, leaving countless holes in the bodies of the wine bottles, which gushed out as if someone had installed a high-pressure water pump there.

A column of dark red wine sprayed half a meter high, splashing onto the velvet curtains and leaving streaks of red.

When the bottles on the bar were smashed, glass shards and human blood flew together. A wine bottle standing behind the bar was ripped open by shrapnel, and the wine sprayed out from the left side of the neck, forming a thin fountain that flew over the bar and splashed onto the oil painting next to it.

The wine bottle shattered, and wine and glass shards fell together, mixing with the wine in wheat-colored, amber-colored, and apple-yellow liquids, spilling all over the floor.

The chain of the crystal chandelier was broken by a bullet, and the entire chandelier crashed onto the marble floor, shattering into countless pieces.

When the chandelier fell, it hit a wine bottle.

The wine bottle was clamped between the lamp's metal frame and the bottle's neck, shards of glass embedded in its surface. Wine seeped from the wounds, reflecting the light.

The wine bottle twitched twice under the lamp stand, then remained still.

Red wine spilled from beneath her, mingling with broken glass and shimmering under the light.

Someone started screaming, a sharp, piercing scream.

Someone was running. A man in a tuxedo jumped up from the coffee table, stepping barefoot on the broken glass. His soles were cut, leaving a trail of red footprints on the dark gray marble floor.

He took three steps when the bullet entered his back and exited through his chest.

His body fell forward, his face hitting the ground.

Dark red liquid gushed from his chest, forming an ever-expanding dark red circle on the carpet.

The chubby, bald man rolled off the chair, lay face down on the ground, covered his head with his hands, and stuck his buttocks in the air.

His large belly was still wrapped around the woman's discarded stockings, the pink ones standing out conspicuously under the light.

The bullet struck his shoulder, and blood gushed from his bald shoulder, running down his arm and dripping onto the carpet.

The intense pain made him oblivious to any beautiful women. He grabbed the woman next to him who was also lying face down with her head in her hands, shoved her toward Li An, and then stood up and ran away.

But how could he outrun a bullet? Besides, Ang Lee had already noticed his little trick. He turned the gun around and fired at his fat belly.

The bald man's body suddenly tilted to one side, as if he had been pushed from the side, and then he fell to the ground and did not move.

The woman who was pushed in front of Ang Lee by the bald man knelt on the carpet, her hands raised above her head, shouting something.

Li An couldn't hear what she was shouting. Maybe she was calling for help, or maybe she was saying no. But Li An didn't want to pay attention to her. He swept a burst of bullets at her, and she flew backward and stopped shouting.

The gun in his right hand missed its target, and the bolt was locked in its bolt hold-open position with a crisp "click".

Ang Lee immediately released his right hand and grabbed the gun in his left hand, continuing to fire around.

The spent cartridge jumped out of the ejection port and landed in the pool of blood at his feet, emitting a wisp of white smoke.

The white-haired old man had just stood up from behind the bar when, before he could even see who was firing, a bullet struck his head.

His body was spun around by the impact of the bullet before he fell to the ground.

Another man stood up from behind the bar, holding a bottle in his hand, intending to throw it and attack Ang Lee from behind.

But before he could raise his hand, Ang Lee turned and fired a burst of bullets, which shattered the bottle in his hand first.

The glass shards exploded along with the wine, with the broken glass first embedding itself in the body and neck of the wine bottle.

Then the bullets arrived, hitting the body and neck of the wine bottle.

When the red wine was poured, along with the half-broken bottle, the wine and blood mixed together, forming a pinkish pool on the carpet.

The second magazine was empty, and the bolt got stuck. He removed the empty magazine, took a new magazine out of his sleeve, inserted it, snapped it, pulled the bolt back, and continued firing with a new magazine.

Some people climbed under the table, some crawled behind the curtains, and some pushed the sofa over to use as cover.

Bullets struck the overturned solid wood table, creating countless bullet holes. They pierced through the front and back of the table, then emerged from the person behind it, creating a series of human-shaped beehives riddled with holes.

The dozens of wine bottles hiding behind the curtain were under Ang Lee's special attention. A series of bullets left streaks of splattered wine on the deep red velvet.

The red wine behind the curtain slowly poured down the wall, leaving a wine stain running from top to bottom on the curtain. The fabric of the curtain, soaked with the wine, turned from deep red to black.

Ang Lee's second magazine was empty again. He took two new magazines out of his sleeve, loaded them, and pulled the bolt.

There weren't many people left in the hall. Those who were still standing were running, all heading towards the door. Someone was pulling on the doorknob, but the door wouldn't open; it was locked from the outside, before Isya went down to the basement.

They pounded on the door, shouting, crying, their fingernails scraping against the wooden frame with a sharp sound. Bullets came after them from behind, felling them one by one.

One of the waiters, who was wearing a white shirt, was shot in the lower back. He immediately lost sensation in his lower body, but his upper body continued to move.

There was also a big-bearded man who was shot in the right leg. He hopped twice on one leg, then was shot in the left leg and fell to his knees, smashing his head against the door until it bled profusely.

A woman came downstairs, wearing a black evening gown with a trailing hem. She was leaning over the door, pounding on the door with her hands, and shouting something.

The bullet struck the neck of the red wine, twisting it at a contorted angle, and the wine gushed out like a tap had been turned on.

The wine bottle stuck to the door, slid down, and left a dark red wine stain on the door.

……

The gunfire stopped.

Li An released the trigger, threw the gun on the ground, turned around, picked up a glass of chilled whiskey that hadn't been shattered by the bullet from the bar, poured it into the glass, and took a swig.

The ice had melted, and the drink was lukewarm, with a smoky aroma. He put the glass back on the bar and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Doyle and Isya stood behind him, looking at the mess in the hall, their faces expressionless.

Ang Lee turned around and walked towards the stairwell.

His shoes smacked against the pool of blood, making a "splat, splat" sound, each step kicking up a small splash of blood.

Behind me, the old record player was still playing. The sound of a bass saxophone flowed from the distorted speaker, as if it were coming from a very far place.

The music continued, but there were no more listeners in the hall.