C90 I'll Kill You!

The erhu's sound came to an abrupt halt.

He was visibly flustered, yet he didn't dare make a rash move, seemingly at a loss for what to do next.

The man with long hair looked up to see the hand's owner, Westley.

To him, Westley wasn't particularly tall and had a very average appearance, the type you'd forget in a crowd.

He tried to force his way out, but his wrist wouldn't budge.

Almost instantly, he realized Westley was no ordinary man.

Yet, the man with long hair didn't show any signs of panic; his face remained emotionless.

"It's not that I lack morals; it's that he's not really blind," the longhaired man said with a lick of his lips and a burgeoning smile.

"You knew?" Westley asked, smiling.

He released the man's wrist as casually as if they were chatting about trivial family matters.

"Of course. Just a moment ago, I caught him blinking and sneaking a peek at my girlfriend's underwear," the longhaired man said, his smile growing more pronounced.

His grin was peculiar.

Most people would be enraged if they knew someone was eyeing their girlfriend's underwear, ready to start a fight.

But he seemed unfazed, almost at ease.

"I'm aware of that, but that's no excuse for you to take his money," Westley countered with a slight curl of his lip.

"But he's a con artist," the longhaired man retorted.

"He never claimed to be blind. You're wearing sunglasses too; should I assume you're blind as well?" Westley challenged.

The longhaired man's brow furrowed.

"That... does seem logical."

After a moment's thought, the longhaired man inquired, "So, what's this got to do with you? Are you standing up for what's right or what?"

"Not exactly. It's mainly because that 100 yuan was mine to give," Westley said with a chuckle.

He tapped the "blind man" on the shoulder and asked, "Isn't that right?"

"Yes."

The 'pretend blind man' was visibly shaken, nodding frantically.

Now, he was the one truly bewildered.

All he had done was feign blindness to earn his daily bread performing on the bridge. The money wasn't much, but it was enough to get by.

"When you drop money into a blind man's bowl, that money ceases to be yours—it belongs to him."

The Longhaired Man flicked his left wrist, revealing an object.

A Desert Eagle pistol.

He aimed it at the blind man and challenged, "Is that the logic?"

The sight of the silver pistol nearly sent the faux blind man leaping into the air.

After all, it was a lethal weapon!

"Yes, you're correct," the fake blind man stammered, his words faltering.

Faced with such a threat, preserving his life was his top priority.

"See, even he agrees."

The Longhaired Man smirked with a touch of arrogance, clearly pleased with himself.

Lin Nan remained silent, offering only a slight smile.

The Longhaired Man pressed on, "So, you wouldn't object to me taking the money, would you?"

"No objections, none at all. Sir, please take it all. Just don't kill me—I know nothing," the fake blind man pleaded through tears.

"Fine, leave now. Make it off the bridge in 15 seconds, and maybe I'll spare your life." A smirk played at the corner of Longhaired Man's lips.

Instantly, the fake blind man sprang to his feet and bolted, abandoning everything in a mad dash.

Longhaired Man glanced at his watch, counting down aloud.

Fifteen!

Fourteen!

Thirteen!

The countdown unleashed the fake blind man's hidden reserves of strength.

He ran with all his might, like a whirlwind in a frantic flight.

With only five or six seconds to spare as he reached the final steps, he leapt.

Crashing to the ground, he clutched his legs and wailed, "Mercy, mercy!"

"People will do the most astonishing things to stay alive," Longhaired Man said, his face nearly contorting with laughter.

The girl squatting nearby shook her head, unimpressed.

She pulled a lollipop from her pocket, popped it into her mouth, and mumbled, "Obviously, being alive trumps everything else."

Witnessing their antics, Lin Nan sighed.

They were playing tough in the presence of a real master—how utterly absurd.

"Enough!" Lin Nan interjected coolly.

"Enough of what?" Longhaired Man thought he had misunderstood.

"I'm saying stop playing the expert. You're just being childish," Lin Nan chided.

"You're accusing us of faking it?" The longhaired man lifted his gun, aiming it squarely at Westley's head. His finger hovered over the trigger, his voice growing increasingly icy. "Would you like to sample the flavor of death?"

"I might as well, since life's such a drag anyway."

Westley leaned in abruptly, his face the picture of noble sacrifice.

The longhaired man's expression visibly tensed at the sight.

Westley was anything but predictable.

The girl cradled her cheek and asked with endearing innocence, "Mister, aren't you scared of dying?"

"Scared? Terrified. I'm still a virgin," Westley confessed with a forlorn look.

"That's just sad." The girl's lips formed a sympathetic pout as she nearly burst into tears.

Her eyes shone with an untainted purity, reminiscent of sparkling jewels.

"So, what do you suggest I do? Why won't you let me touch you? That way, I could at least feel a woman's touch before I die," Westley proposed.

"That sounds like a plan," the girl agreed, nodding as she stepped closer to Westley.

She puffed out her chest, fixing her gaze on him. Yet, Westley caught a discreet gesture she made.

Her left hand stealthily reached for the laces of her Martin Boots.

Westley reached out, seemingly intent on caressing her.

"If your hand touches her, I'll blow your head apart like popcorn," the longhaired man warned with a steely edge.

Unperturbed, Westley continued his reach, his demeanor serene, his eyes tranquil.

He was moments away from grazing the girl's breast when a cruel glint crossed her eyes, her fingers poised on the boot's special laces.

"Didn't you hear me? I said stop!" The longhaired man leapt to his feet, bellowing furiously.

But Westley's touch landed on the girl, not on her breast but on her shoulder, swiftly redirecting to press a point there. Her expression shifted instantly, her face flushing crimson.

Her fingers, ready to draw the special lace from the Martin Boots, began to quiver beyond her control.

Astonishment filled the girl's wide eyes.

She couldn't fathom how a single touch from Westley had stripped her of all resistance.

"I'll kill you!" In a moment of uncontrolled rage, the Longhaired Man forcefully squeezed the trigger.

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