Chapter 31: Do You Think I Dare Not Strike?

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At that very moment, the old man was crouching furtively by the river, tugging at the basket he had placed in the water.

“You miserable little bastard, I’ll make sure you don’t earn a single penny!”

Old Zhang muttered under his breath, his face twisted into a vicious grimace.

“I knew you’d set your baskets again. I’ve ruined every one of them. You’ve wasted all that effort—let’s see how smug you can be now!”

As he spoke, Old Zhang pulled a hatchet from his pocket and raised it high. The blade glimmered coldly in the faint light, poised to hack straight into the basket.

Just as he lifted the hatchet, Old Zhang suddenly felt something cold and hard pressed firmly against the back of his head.

The icy sensation shot through his entire body like an electric current. Every hair on him stood on end, and his scalp went numb with terror.

“You…”

Old Zhang’s eyes widened in horror. He stammered for a long moment, managing to force out only a single word, his voice filled with fear.

Lin Yang’s cold voice drifted from behind him like a chill wind.

“Old Zhang, you took my nine baskets yesterday too, didn’t you? Don’t think you can hide what you’ve done from everyone!”

“No… no, I swear to Heaven, I… I absolutely didn’t steal anything of yours!”

Old Zhang’s voice trembled uncontrollably.

Yet inwardly, he was puzzled. He had taken only six baskets—why was this young man saying nine?

Could there have been several more he had failed to notice?

The Mosin-Nagant in Lin Yang’s hand had long since been unwrapped. He slowly pressed the cold barrel against Old Zhang’s cheek, his voice brimming with fury and contempt.

“Do you know how long it took my father to weave those nine baskets? He worked himself ragged, spending countless days and nights making them!”

“You stole the game inside the baskets, and now you’ve even taken the baskets themselves. You’re truly insatiable. I think you’re tired of living!”

Old Zhang was terrified, but he still answered honestly.

“I really didn’t take that many! Don’t falsely accuse me!”

Seeing this, Lin Yang pulled the bolt with a sharp clack.

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The crisp, threatening sound struck Old Zhang’s heart like a heavy hammer. His whole body began to shake violently, and he nearly collapsed onto the ground.

He could not help shouting, “Lin Yang, don’t do anything reckless! If you shoot me, you’ll have to pay with your life too! Don’t act on impulse!”

Lin Yang sneered contemptuously.

“You old fool, did a donkey kick you in the head? It’s freezing in October. Who in their right mind would go all the way upstream in weather like this?”

“Even if I shot you and dragged you into the deep mountains, I wouldn’t need to dispose of your body myself. The beasts up there would smell the blood and devour you until nothing remained!”

“I called you a man who doesn’t know when he’s dead, and you still seem unconvinced. Do you think I don’t dare pull the trigger?!”

Old Zhang truly lost his nerve.

He knew that a young man like Lin Yang, once consumed by anger and acting on impulse, was capable of anything.

He had no intention of sacrificing his life over a few baskets.

He hurriedly shouted, “I only took six baskets! I couldn’t find the other two—I really didn’t take nine! Please, spare me!”

When Lin Yang heard this, he flew into a rage and kicked him hard in the back.

The kick was delivered with all his strength. Old Zhang staggered forward and plunged into the river with a heavy splash.

The river water at the end of October was freezing cold, piercing through his padded coat like countless needles and making his entire body convulse.

His coat quickly filled with water, becoming as heavy as a boulder and dragging him down as he struggled desperately, sending sheets of water flying.

After a long while, he finally managed to stand near the riverbank. He was soaked from head to toe, his lips purple with cold, and his teeth chattering violently.

The moment he raised his head, he saw the dark muzzle of the Mosin-Nagant once again pressed against his forehead. His legs gave way, and he collapsed limply onto the ground.

Murderous intent surged in Lin Yang’s eyes as he asked coldly, “Should I kill you right now, or drag you deep into the mountains and tie you up?”

“I could bind you to a tree and cut a few wounds into your body. Once the wild beasts caught the scent of blood, they would tear you to pieces—and no one would ever suspect that I was responsible.”

“What do you think? You choose!”

Lin Yang wore a smile, but in Old Zhang’s eyes, that smile was more terrifying than a demon from hell.

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Every curve of that smile seemed to carry a bone-chilling coldness that burrowed straight into the depths of his heart. He felt as though he had fallen into an icy abyss, with all the blood in his body on the verge of freezing.

Old Zhang knew that Lin Yang was not merely trying to frighten him.

His body now trembled violently beyond his control, and his teeth clattered together.

The trembling was caused not only by the knife-like cold of the river water, but even more by the uncontrollable terror that had opened like a bottomless pit within his heart.

His face was contorted by extreme fear. The muscles around his mouth and cheeks twitched spasmodically, while his lips had already turned a dark, purplish blue from the cold.

“Lin Yang, I… I truly know how terribly wrong I was. Please, show mercy and spare me this once!”

“Think about it—there’s no such thing as a wall without a crack. If you do something terrible to me, you’ll inevitably leave traces behind!”

“You’re still young. A bright future lies ahead of you, like a flower-strewn road waiting for you to walk it. Why ruin your entire future over a few baskets?”

“I swear I’ll return everything to you exactly as it was. Please, I beg you, have mercy. Don’t kill me!”

A look of deep disgust flashed through Lin Yang’s eyes, sharp as a blade of frost.

Without saying a word, he abruptly raised his foot and drove it into Old Zhang’s face with all his strength.

With a dull thud, Old Zhang was kicked backward like a broken rag doll, landing flat on his back in the river and sending great splashes of muddy water into the air.

He thrashed desperately in the water, clawing wildly with both hands and kicking frantically with his legs. After swallowing several mouthfuls of freezing river water, he began coughing violently. Only then did he struggle out of the river, his face smeared with blood from his nose, looking utterly wretched.

Yet before he could catch his breath or even beg for mercy, Lin Yang had already stepped forward like a ghost. He planted his foot heavily on Old Zhang’s face, pressing it firmly into the mud along the bank.

The mud instantly filled Old Zhang’s mouth and nostrils, making it difficult for him to breathe.

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