Chapter Thirty-Two: Searching for the Wounded Man

Donghao Casino.

This is a rather well-known underground casino in Ning County. Not only do locals frequent it, but many gamblers from Yang City also make their way to the Jin Hui Casino.

The Donghao Casino is vast in scale. Most gaming tables are attended by attractive female dealers. Moreover, this casino is known for its fairness—even if a customer wins hundreds of thousands, or even millions, they can leave safely. As a result, the casino enjoys an excellent reputation.

The owner of Donghao Casino is nicknamed the Wolf King. He is the "Western Wolf" among the four great figures of Ning County—South Horse, North Deer, East Bear, and West Wolf.

At this moment, the Wolf King is seated in his office. Two intersecting knife scars run across his face, and standing at about six feet tall, his body is taut with lean muscle, exuding a chilling aura.

He idly toys with a pair of walnuts in his hand, studying the dossier before him. “Gao Sida—won quite a bit in American casinos, banned by several establishments over there. Now he’s come to my turf? How amusing. Send someone to rough him up, give him a warning, and tell him to slink away on his own.”

“Yes, sir.” The Wolf King’s secretary, a woman of seductive charm—her face above average, but her figure extraordinary: voluptuous and curvaceous, with long legs and an alluring arch to her brows—replied.

Just then, a man in a black suit hurried in. “Boss, Lu Youwei is dead.”

“What?” The Wolf King was momentarily taken aback. “Lu Youwei is dead? Who did it? The cops?”

“No, it was a mysterious figure. The Public Security Bureau calls him the Chopstick Maniac—he has a penchant for stabbing people in the throat with chopsticks,” the man reported.

“So it’s the same Chopstick Maniac who killed Ma Guosheng. South Horse, North Deer, East Bear, West Wolf—now both South Horse’s Ma Guosheng and North Deer’s Lu Youwei have fallen to this man. Is he targeting us specifically?” The Wolf King's eyes narrowed dangerously, leaving only a thin, menacing slit. “If we don’t eliminate him, he’ll come for me or East Bear Xiong Xinxing next.”

“I heard the Chopstick Maniac was shot twice by Lu Youwei—he’s wounded,” the man in the black suit whispered.

“If he’s injured, tell our men to search for anyone with gunshot wounds. Find every last one—I refuse to believe we can’t track this Chopstick Maniac down.” The Wolf King’s tone was icy. If the Chopstick Maniac had only killed Ma Guosheng, it could have been personal vendetta. But now, it was clear he was challenging Ning County’s underworld.

If that’s the case, it’s a matter of life and death.

At the same time, Xiong Xinxing issued the exact same order as the Wolf King.

No matter what, they had to uncover the true identity of the Chopstick Maniac.

At this very moment, Xiong Xinxing was thinking to himself—now both the authorities and the criminal underworld are searching for the Chopstick Maniac. No matter where he runs, he won’t escape!

…

Night deepened.

Shen Ye had just returned to his seaside cottage. He hadn’t gone home because of his injured state—he didn’t want to frighten his parents.

On the way back, he struggled to maintain a normal gait, and it was exhausting. Once he closed the door behind him, he nearly collapsed onto the floor.

He forced himself to stand, groping through the darkness to switch on the dining room light.

First, Shen Ye checked his experience bar—after killing six people, plus the previous gains, he was a little over level two, but still short of level three.

Then, two searing waves of pain shot through his body.

He removed his clothes.

Both bullets were lodged in his flesh—one in his chest, one in his right shoulder.

Damn. Especially the one in his chest—if not for his defense being three times that of an ordinary person, the bullet would have gone straight into his heart and lungs.

The hospital was out of the question. Going there now would be the same as turning himself in, telling everyone he was the Chopstick Maniac. He could only deal with the wounds himself.

First, he needed tweezers.

Normally, a restaurant wouldn’t have tweezers, but a few days ago he had randomly bought some small items and tossed them into a cabinet at the bar.

He found the small tweezers.

Then, he lit the gas stove, holding the tweezers in the flame to sterilize them.

Afterward, he took the tweezers and went straight for his wounds.

Pain!

It was excruciating.

Shen Ye almost cried out, but forced himself to endure. The ancients had General Guan Yu scraping poison from his bone; today, Shen Ye would extract bullets from his own flesh.

Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Fortunately, his body’s defense was strong, so the bullets hadn’t penetrated deeply—just lodged in the muscle.

He started with the bullet in his right shoulder. With a snap, he forcibly extracted the bullet—by then, Shen Ye was close to passing out.

Next was the second bullet, the one in his chest—harder to remove, given its position.

Gritting his teeth against the agony, Shen Ye probed with the tweezers, advancing little by little. Self-surgery had one major flaw—it was easy to lose one’s sense of direction and miss the right spot, causing even more pain.

And it did hurt—terribly.

He managed to stay conscious only because his mental attribute was at 1.5, one and a half times that of an average adult man. With that boost, he didn’t faint easily from pain.

He kept searching with the tweezers, finally locating the right position.

Clink—the tweezers struck metal. It was the bullet.

Suppressing his excitement, he clamped down and yanked hard—a spurt of blood followed.

At last, both bullets were out.

Shen Ye stumbled to the shop entrance, hung up a “Temporarily Closed” sign, then could endure no more and finally passed out.

In truth, this method of extracting bullets was brutally crude. Any ordinary adult trying this would likely have died on the spot. Fortunately, his constitution was three times that of a normal human.

…

He had no idea how long he slept, but when Shen Ye finally awoke, he checked the time—eighteen hours had passed.

His stomach rumbled with hunger.

Luckily, the place was a restaurant, so food was plentiful. After cooking himself a meal, he ate ravenously, driving away the hunger and then checked his wounds. To his surprise, they had healed considerably—the wounds had even started to scab. Normally, gunshot wounds don’t heal that quickly. Scabbed over in a day? Absurd!

Could it be the result of his enhanced constitution?

By the fifth day, Shen Ye noticed his wounds were completely healed, and even more astonishing, there were no scars—whether on his shoulder or his chest, it was as if he’d never been injured.

On the sixth day, Shen Ye sensed someone was secretly watching him.

It seemed that his involvement in rescuing Wen Xiuting had aroused some suspicion. After all, he was one of her relatives. And he’d been involved in the Shuimen Lane demolition incident as well.

Shen Ye’s response was simple—he stripped down to just his briefs and took a swim in the sea.

His entire body, not a single mark or wound.

Everyone knew the Chopstick Maniac had been shot a few days ago.

Thus, Shen Ye’s name was swiftly and thoroughly cleared.

No one, not even a god, could have guessed that Shen Ye’s body was so extraordinary.

(In the comments, some wondered why the protagonist didn’t use a gun after killing Lu Youwei. The answer is simple: I want my protagonist to fight with his fists. I want to write about visceral, blood-pumping combat, so I never intended for him to use a gun.

Also, thanks to Moyi and Chifeng for their rewards, and thanks to everyone for your recommendation votes.)