Tehran Grocery Store: My Intelligence is Priced Clearly

"What I am is not important."

Zhang Jian spoke slowly and deliberately.

"The important thing is, you're blocking my business."

Hassan paused for a moment, then burst into exaggerated laughter.

"Hahaha! Doing business?"

He turned to look at his underlings behind him.

"Did you hear that? This kid's saying I'm blocking his business!"

More than thirty members of the Viper Gang burst into laughter.

Hassan finished laughing, turned around, and his eyes turned sinister.

"I'm not only going to block your business today, I'm going to smash up your lousy shop!"

As he spoke, he raised the machete in his hand, making a gesture as if to chop it down on the counter.

A fierce glint flashed in Bakhtiar's eyes, and he took a step forward.

He swung his automatic rifle directly at Hassan's cheek like wielding a fly swatter.

"Bang!"

A muffled thud.

Hassan was sent flying, knife and all.

It crashed heavily onto the steps outside the door, rolling twice before coming to a stop.

"Vice Leader!"

The members of the Viper Gang were stunned for a moment and quickly went to help him up.

Hassan was completely stunned by the camera.

He shook his head a few times to clear his head and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.

"کص ننه (You motherfucker!)!"

"Kill them!"

He covered his face and screamed hysterically.

Upon seeing this, the henchmen outside the door immediately erupted in chaos, raising their weapons and preparing to rush inside.

"Snap!"

"Snap!"

Two crisp metallic clanging sounds rang out.

Bakhtiar and Fahad simultaneously drew their AK-103s, pulled the bolts, and pointed the dark muzzles directly at the thugs charging at the front.

The people at the front were instantly startled.

I instinctively tried to stop, and my shoes made a 'screech' sound on the ground.

They stopped, but those behind them couldn't stop.

It crashed directly into the backs of the people in front, and a whole bunch of them fell down instantly.

Hassan got up with the help of his younger brother.

His pupils contracted sharply as he looked at the objects in Bakhtiar and Fahad's hands.

But he quickly calmed down.

Having lived in Tehran for so many years, what kind of situation haven't I seen?

Hassan pushed his underling aside, stiffened his neck, took two steps forward, and pointed at the gun in Bakhtiar's hand.

"Who are you trying to scare with two fake guns?"

Do you know where you are?

"This is northern Tehran! It's a wealthy area!"

He pointed to the surrounding streets.

"The police station is just two blocks away."

"Do you dare to shoot?"

Hassan became more and more confident as he spoke, even puffing out his chest and patting it loudly.

"The moment a shot is fired, the police will have this place surrounded within five minutes!"

He spat, his attitude extremely arrogant.

"Come on! Shoot me if you dare! If you don't fire, you're my grandson!"

Seeing their boss so tough, the Viper Gang underlings behind him also joined in the commotion.

"Exactly! Who are you trying to fool with that fake gun!"

"Go ahead and shoot!"

Zhang Jian shook his head helplessly as he looked at Hassan's reckless attitude.

"I've never heard such a shameless request in my life."

He took two steps forward and stood beside Bakhtiar and Fahad.

She raised her head slightly and called out softly towards the rooftop.

"Ali, bring him to his senses."

On the rooftop.

Ali lay prone behind the sandbag, his crosshairs already fixed on Hassan's head through a high-powered scope.

Upon hearing Zhang Jian's shout, he moved his fingers slightly.

The crosshair moved down.

Pull the trigger.

"Bang!"

A deafening roar instantly echoed through the street.

Hassan felt a blur before his eyes, and an irresistible, enormous force slammed into his right hand.

"what!"

He screamed in agony, and the machete in his hand flew out instantly!

No, it wasn't a sale.

That half-meter-long, thick-backed, wide-bladed steel machete was broken in two!

The upper half of the blade was carried by the bullet's immense kinetic energy, tumbling several times in the air.

Finally, with a "plop," it plunged deep into the ground three meters away.

The blade flew even further, smashing directly into the windshield of their pickup truck.

The original windshield was instantly covered with fine cracks.

Hassan clutched his bleeding right hand, backing away until he collapsed to the ground.

The once bustling street fell completely silent in an instant.

The thirty-odd Viper Gang members all felt as if they were being choked.

His mouth was open, but he couldn't utter a single word.

The steel pipe in someone's hand fell to the ground with a clang.

Nobody dared to pick it up.

Is this a fake gun?!

Whose toy gun could break a machete in one shot?!

Zhang Jian looked down at him and slowly walked over.

He stepped over the shattered glass and stood in front of Hassan, looking down at him.

Bakhtiar and Fahad followed closely behind, their AK-103s with the safety off and their fingers firmly on the triggers.

Zhang Jian slowly drew his Glock 17 from his waist and cocked it.

He slowly crouched down, the dark muzzle of the gun pressed directly against Hassan's shiny bald head.

"Now."

Do you think I'll shoot?

Hassan was trembling like a leaf.

Large drops of cold sweat streamed down his forehead.

"Big, big brother..."

Hassan swallowed hard, his voice trembling.

"It's a misunderstanding..."

"Misunderstand?"

Zhang Jian gently tapped Hassan's forehead with the barrel of his gun.

"Weren't you being quite assertive just now?"

"Isn't it supposed to be another $20,000?"

"Aren't you going to smash up my shop too?"

"No, no, no!"

"I don't want it anymore! I don't want a single cent!"

Hassan shook his head frantically, his eyes filled with fear.

"We were blind and offended our elder brother!"

"You're so magnanimous, please just ignore us!"

"Let you go?"

Zhang Jian chuckled softly.

"You led more than thirty people, armed with knives, guns, and clubs, stormed into my shop, kicked down my door, and even frightened my employees."

"You think you can just pack up and leave?"

Zhang Jian straightened up and looked around at the trembling underlings outside.

"When I do business, I value fairness the most."

"You just asked for $20,000 in medical expenses, right?"

"OK."

Zhang Jian also raised two fingers.

"The cost of repairing the storefront, compensation for emotional distress, plus the appearance fees for my brothers."

"Round it up."

Two hundred thousand US dollars.

Zhang Jian looked down at Hassan.

"Give me the money and you can leave."

"I have no money..."

"Don't blame me for being ruthless."

Hassan's eyes widened in surprise.

"Two...two hundred thousand?!"

He's just a vice-leader of a gang in the South District. He usually only collects a few hundred or a few thousand dollars in protection money. Where is he going to get two hundred thousand US dollars?

"Brother, I really don't have that much money!"

Hassan was almost in tears.

"No money?"

Zhang Jian gestured with his chin toward Bakhtiar.

"Big guy."

Bakhtiar grinned, tossed the AK-103 behind his back, and strode over to Hassan.

Like picking up a chick, he grabbed Hassan by the collar and lifted him off the ground.

"I like tough guys who have no money the most."

Bakhtiar slapped him across the face with his large palm.

"Snapped!"

A crisp sound.

Hassan's already swollen face was now completely disfigured.

Two blood-stained teeth flew out of his mouth.

"No! Don't hit me!"

"I'll give it to you! I'll give it to you, okay?!"