Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

As dawn broke, the snowstorm had just stopped.

Suddenly, an extremely piercing engine roar came from the dirt road at the entrance of Kaoshantun Village, which was mostly blocked by snow.

Boom! Boom!

Two covered jeeps bearing county public security bureau license plates sped into Kaoshantun, almost recklessly skidding across the snow-covered, icy ground.

Before the car had even come to a complete stop, the passenger door was suddenly pushed open.

Zhang Guodong scrambled down the hill, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the village entrance, his whole being radiating an extremely manic and murderous aura.

Half an hour ago, the county bureau received an urgent tip.

It is said that a dozen or so southern traders, armed with double-barreled shotguns and controlled knives, stormed into Kaoshantun overnight!

At the height of the crackdown, a dozen guns and pistols surrounded and attacked a village!

Moreover, Zhang Guodong knew Zhao Shanhe's temperament all too well. He was a ruthless character who had once helped him quell hundreds of thugs in the police station compound with a double-barreled shotgun—a man with whom he shared a life-or-death bond! If things really escalated, Zhao Shanhe would definitely be at the forefront, fighting to the death!

"Old Zhou! Little Liu! Load the guns, you bastards! Block off the village entrance!"

Zhang Guodong roared hoarsely, leading several police officers, trudging through knee-deep snow, and charged towards the old elm tree like madmen.

His breathing was trembling, and he had prepared for the worst, facing the mess of severed limbs and blood on the ground.

however.

When he rushed breathlessly to the old elm tree, the scene before him froze him and the police officers behind him.

There was no bloodshed.

There was no loud gunfire.

At the village entrance in the early morning, all that could be heard was the crackling of burning firewood.

Da Niu was squatting beside a large fire, warming two cold sticky rice cakes skewered on a twig by the fire.

Dozens of villagers, each carrying a shovel, were gathered in twos and threes, smoking pipes and chatting. When they saw the police arrive, they waved enthusiastically.

And not far away, in that dilapidated pigsty with drafts coming from all sides.

A dozen or so burly men, stripped down to only thin autumn clothes, huddled together in a corner of rotten hay like a pile of frozen dead pigs.

Their eyebrows and hair were covered with a thick layer of white frost, and they no longer had the strength to shiver, only extremely faint gasps could be heard.

Those double-barreled shotguns and switchblades that we used to show off last night were carelessly tossed aside in the snowdrift outside the pigsty, like a pile of scrap metal.

Zhang Guodong's hand holding the gun trembled violently. He swallowed hard, feeling his head buzzing.

This looks like they're looking after a litter of dead pigs infected with swine fever!

Just as his brain went blank, Zhao Shanhe, wearing his old military overcoat and carrying a chipped enamel mug, strolled slowly out of the house.

"Hey, Old Zhang, it's so early in the morning, with such a heavy snowfall, why did you come all the way to my poor mountain village?"

Zhao Shanhe took a sip of steaming hot Gaomo tea, looked at Zhang Guodong who was covered in sweat and looked like he was facing a formidable enemy, and a very calm smile appeared on his lips. He casually pointed the hand holding the teacup towards the pigsty.

"Perfect timing. Last night, a few vagrants from the south came to the village, carrying some broken firewood sticks and saying they wanted to massacre the village."

Zhao Shanhe spoke casually, as if he were talking about catching a few chicken-stealing weasels: "I had the villagers help me control them, and I was just thinking of getting a horse-drawn cart to take you to the county bureau to boost my performance record at dawn. Look, it's too much trouble for you to personally lead the team, I feel so bad."

Zhang Guodong held up his service pistol, looking at the dozen or so pigs in the pigsty frozen solid, unrecognizable even to their own mothers, and then at Zhao Shanhe, who was holding a teacup and completely unharmed.

His intense grief and anger, along with his readiness to fight the thugs to the death, vanished instantly, like a punch landing on cotton.

Zhang Guodong's Adam's apple bobbed, he tucked the gun into his waistband, strode over, and delivered a heavy punch to Zhao Shanhe's shoulder.

"You little rascal! You're a real troublemaker!"

Although Zhang Guodong was cursing, he couldn't hide the lingering fear and relief in his eyes.

He walked to the edge of the pigsty, looked at the group of southerners inside who were frozen to the bone, and couldn't help but twitch his lips twice.

Last time at the station, this guy splashed hundreds of troublemakers with ice water until they cried for their parents. This time he went even further, stripping people naked and throwing them into a pigsty at minus thirty degrees Celsius to cool them down!

"These bastards dared to come looking for trouble with guns. It's only because of this freezing weather that they were saved, otherwise..."

Zhang Guodong snorted coldly, turned to look at Zhao Shanhe, and lowered his voice, "But Shanhe, you've made a bit too much of a fuss. It's only because I led the team that this happened; if it were anyone else, seeing this scene, you'd be in big trouble."

Zhao Shanhe smiled and handed over a Daqianmen cigarette: "Old Zhang, this is called self-defense. The villagers acted bravely and subdued the armed robber. If this happened in the city, wouldn't they give us a banner of appreciation?"

"A banner? I'll give you a damn thing!"

Zhang Guodong took the cigarette with a gruff tone, lit it, took a deep drag, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke: "Alright, stop acting innocent after getting the benefit. I'm taking these guys with me, but this isn't over. These southerners dared to bring guns across provincial borders; there's definitely something powerful behind them. I'll interrogate them tonight and find out who gave them the courage!"

He turned around and roared at the officers behind him, "Old Zhou! Little Liu! Get the handcuffs! Drag all these armed vagrants into the car! If they resist, smash them with the butts of your guns!"

The officers, as if waking from a dream, grabbed the handcuffs and pounced on the pigsty like wolves.

Just as the two police officers were holding up the leader, Boss Huang, and preparing to stuff him into the trunk of the jeep...

Mr. Huang, whose body was half frozen and whose eyelids were covered with ice crystals, suddenly burst forth with a burst of energy from nowhere.

He clung tightly to the jeep's door frame, his fingernails scraping against the metal with a harsh sound.

His face, swollen and bluish from the cold, suddenly turned around, his turbid eyes, filled with extreme resentment, fixed on Zhao Shanhe.

"Zhao Shanhe..."

Boss Huang's withered lips trembled violently as he exhaled a breath of white air tinged with blood, his voice hoarse as if two pieces of sandpaper were rubbing together: "You think you've won? You have no idea whose money you've swindled..."

"That's 150,000 from the Southern Prince! I'll be waiting to see how you die!"

As soon as these words were spoken, a biting cold wind swept across the village entrance.

The big cow holding the bloodied boning knife and several villagers exchanged glances, their faces blank. They scratched their ears, completely ignoring the nonsensical remark.

In the eyes of the men from Kaoshantun, those so-called young masters Wang and Li were not as valuable as the imported wool sweaters they had just taken from these vagrants.

"So much fucking nonsense."

Before Zhao Shanhe could even speak, Zhang Guodong, who was standing next to him, impatiently cursed.

He had worked in the police force for over a decade and he hated these kinds of spineless cowards who still made threats even when they were about to die.

Snapped!

Without hesitation, Zhang Guodong slapped Boss Huang hard across the frozen face.

Before Boss Huang could even scream, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed like a lump of mud, instantly losing consciousness.

"Shove it in! It's an eyesore!"

Zhang Guodong shook his numb hands, yelled at the police officers, and then turned to look at the brand-new Crown and the old bread truck parked at the village entrance.

"Old Zhou, send a few men to drive those two cars back to the station," Zhang Guodong instructed matter-of-factly. "These are the tools used in the crime; they all need to be registered and sealed."

The officers responded loudly and quickly stuffed the dead-pig-like traders into the truck, while two officers went to drive the Crown.

Zhang Guodong then turned around, took out half a pack of Daqianmen cigarettes from his pocket, handed one to Zhao Shanhe, and lit one for himself.

They struck a match and huddled together to light their cigarette.

"Shanhe, this time I really have to thank you properly, brother."

Zhang Guodong exhaled a puff of smoke, his bloodshot eyes gleaming with barely concealed excitement: "This is a criminal gang operating across provinces with firearms. Once this case is handed over, I can finally hold my head high in front of the city bureau leaders."

Zhao Shanhe, a cigarette dangling from his lips, smiled casually: "Old Zhang, it's no need for formalities among brothers. You're the one taking the bullets for me, so it's only right that I bring you some fuel to boost your sales."

The two men exchanged a smile, their unspoken understanding born of a life-or-death bond, all contained in that single puff of smoke.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Zhang Guodong, eager to return to the bureau for an impromptu interrogation that very night, stubbed out his cigarette, opened the car door, and jumped into the jeep.

"I'm off! I'll treat you to drinks when I get back to town!"

Rumble.

The jeeps and the captured Crown cars lined up, spewing out thick exhaust fumes, crashing through the swirling snow, and sped towards the county town.

The village entrance fell silent once again.

"Brother Shanhe, what was that bastard talking about, 'Young Master Wang'? And 150,000? Does he have a big boss behind him?" Da Niu walked over, draped a freshly dried black woolen coat over his shoulders, and asked casually with a cheerful smile.

Zhao Shanhe watched the car lights disappear into the distance, slowly exhaling a thick cloud of white smoke, without answering immediately.

The villagers didn't understand, and Zhang Guodong didn't take it seriously, but Zhao Shanhe knew exactly what was going on.

The 150,000 yuan principal that Boss Huang brought was completely drained last night in the scheme involving sodium sulfate waste.

Using this scheme to eliminate all his descendants, Zhao Shanhe not only cleared out his inventory but also made a net profit of over ten thousand yuan.

But now it seems that the 150,000 yuan was not Boss Huang's money at all.

In the early 1980s, a "young master from the South" who could casually throw out 150,000 yuan in cash to smash up a business and was also worthy of an imported Crown sedan could not possibly be an ordinary businessman.

Behind this is undoubtedly a privileged class that has been wielding power in the south by taking advantage of the reform and opening-up policy and relying on the legacy of their parents. This is what is commonly known as "official profiteering."

These people hold approval slips and foreign trade quotas in their hands, and can mobilize unimaginable amounts of funds at any time.

Boss Huang is nothing more than a mad dog they've raised in disguise.

He ruined his own life. Although he only made a little over 10,000 yuan, he completely turned the 150,000 yuan that the princelings from the south had invested in the northeast into worthless scraps of paper.

This feud is now completely over.

"Da Niu, you really believe his lying mouth?"

Zhao Shanhe snapped out of his reverie, suddenly grinned, and casually flicked his cigarette butt into the snowdrift with a soft "hiss": "That southern bumpkin's about to die, trying to bluff his way out of us. If he really knew some powerful young master Wang, would we have stripped him naked and thrown him into the pigsty to starve?"

Upon hearing this, Da Niu slapped his thigh in agreement and grinned widely: "That's right! Those spineless cowards, 150,000 yuan? I'd be ashamed of them even with 15 yuan!"

The surrounding villagers burst into laughter, and the slight doubt in their hearts vanished instantly.

Zhao Shanhe turned around, tightened his old military overcoat against the biting north wind, and shouted into the distance, "Erga Zi, go hitch up the carriage."

Erga, who had been watching the commotion from the sidelines with his hands in his pockets, quickly ran over, sniffled his snotty nose, and asked with a face full of curiosity, "Brother, it's so early in the morning, the snow hasn't stopped yet, where are you hitching up your cart to go?"

Zhao Shanhe raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the vast forest and snow-covered plains, a deep glint flashing in his eyes.

Now that the privileged class in the south has extended its reach to Changbai Mountain, he absolutely cannot sit idly by and wait for his doom.

"Go to the city."

Zhao Shanhe tucked his hands into the sleeves of his military overcoat, his voice calm yet carrying a hint of ruthless decisiveness: "Go find Brother Jin Wanfu and have some morning tea."