blogombal Chapter 607 Thugs Fighting in a Group
Chapter 607 Thugs Fighting in a Group
The north wind on the loess slope was really strong, swatting away the withered grass with a rustling sound, and turning the snow on the trees into a sky full of white fluff.
The shouts of battle were deafening.
Song Zhe was supported by Sun Dabiao as he walked forward, his legs feeling like they were filled with lead, growing heavier with each step.
The group on the other side had already started charging down.
The one leading the group, a big bald guy, was holding a wood-chopping knife in his hand. The blade was sharpened until it gleamed white.
Following behind were fifty men from the west, wielding shovels, picks, and sticks, howling as they surged up the slope.
"Damn it... Bro, I can't do it, I want to go home... I can't fight..."
Before the two groups even clashed, Song Zhe was already on the verge of a breakdown.
I was so scared that my pockets were covered in cold sweat.
My knees buckled, and I almost knelt down.
Sun Dabiao grabbed him by the back of the collar:
"Let's go, get them!"
The moment the two groups collided, Song Zhe's mind went blank.
He was swept forward by the crowd, surrounded by shouts and curses, and surrounded by swung sticks and blades.
"Bang bang slap slap"
The sound of the stick hitting his flesh and the screams made the hairs on his body stand on end.
A pickaxe handle came crashing down on his head.
Song Zhe instinctively shrank his neck, and the pickaxe handle grazed his ear and hit his shoulder.
The pain made his vision go black, and he fell to the side.
Before he even fell to the ground, he was kicked in the back again.
He lay on the ground, his mouth full of yellow soil.
Looking up, he saw a burly man with a menacing face raising a sickle and aiming it at his head.
"No! Don't kill me!" Song Zhe clutched his head, his voice hoarse from screaming. "I surrender! I surrender!"
Before the sickle could fall, the man wielding it was knocked down by Wang Laogeda's pickaxe handle.
Song Zhe lay on the ground, trembling all over. He wanted to get up and run, but his legs wouldn't obey him.
In the Western Zhou Dynasty, people's legs were constantly running, kicking, and stomping.
He curled up in a ball, covering his head, and then someone kicked him twice more.
"Get up! Do you want to die lying here?"
Sun Dabiao suddenly rushed over and pulled him up from the ground.
Song Zhe's face was covered in yellow dust, his nose and eyes were snot and tears, and his lips were trembling:
"I'm not playing anymore... I want to go home..."
"Go back to your mother!" Sun Dabiao shoved him. "If you don't chop someone up, you'll be the one getting chopped up!"
Before he could finish speaking, a man rushed in from the side and slashed Sun Dabiao in the back with a knife.
A tear was cut in the cotton-padded coat, and the cotton inside came out.
Sun Dabiao grunted and turned around to throw a punch.
The one who was stabbing staggered a couple of steps, regained his balance, and then lunged at him again.
This time it's aimed at Song Zhe.
When Song Zhe saw the knife coming straight for his face, his legs went weak and he knelt down again.
A blow to the head with the back of a knife, and blood started to flow.
Song Zhe cried, shouted, and begged for mercy, but he didn't dare to stand up.
"Get up! Are you even a man?!"
Sun Dabiao was holding down one person and beating him while yelling at him.
Song Zhe knelt on the ground, looking at the chaotic scene around him.
Some people fell down, some clutched their heads and bled, and some chased after others with sticks.
He didn't know where to run or where to hide.
Another person rushed over. This time, he was holding an iron heating pipe and swung it at his head.
Song Zhe rolled to the side, and the iron pipe hit his shoulder with a crack, causing him pain as if his bone had broken.
He screamed in agony.
The man was about to swing his sword a second time.
Song Zhe groped around on the ground and touched a piece of wood. He didn't know what it was, so he swung it to block.
The iron pipe slammed into the wood, making his hand go numb. The man then kicked him, knocking him to the ground.
"I knelt down and you still hit me, my mom!"
Suddenly, Song Zhe got up, still clutching the piece of wood, and swung it at the man's face.
The man knocked the log away with an iron pipe.
But Song Zhe pounced on him.
The two were too close together to swing the iron pipe properly.
Song Zhe threw down the wood, grabbed the man's neck with both hands, and the two rolled on the ground.
The man poked his ribs with an iron pipe, causing him to cry out in pain, but he didn't let go, holding on tightly.
He had nothing on his mind, but he couldn't let go; if he did, he would have to kill himself.
Someone nearby kicked Song Zhe, sending him rolling twice.
When I got up, I saw that the person had already been held down by someone else.
He was breathing heavily and trembling all over. His hands were sticky with blood, no one knew whose.
"Idiot, you have an axe and you're not using it!" Sun Erbiao shouted at him.
He looked down and saw that one of his wood-chopping axes was missing from his waist, but he still had another one.
He pulled it out in one swift motion.
Another enemy soldier charged at them.
This time he saw it clearly; it was the same fleshy-faced guy with the sickle from before.
Song Zhe took a step back, and the sickle slashed past him.
He swung his axe and chopped at the boy's head; you could hear the bones cracking.
The man screamed and retreated, clutching his wound.
Song Zhe looked down at the axe; there was blood on the blade.
The burly-faced man charged forward again, sweeping his sickle horizontally.
Song Zhe leaned back, and the sickle passed right in front of his chin, nearly splitting him open.
But he did a backflip.
His movements were quite stylish. He landed firmly, gripped the axe with both hands, and charged at the man's head again.
At that moment, all I could think about was cutting down my opponent to survive.
So they acted recklessly, like mad dogs!
The man dodged, and the axe struck his shoulder.
He screamed in pain, and the sickle fell from his hand.
Song Zhe tried to pull the axe back, but couldn't; it was stuck in his flesh. The man clutched his shoulder and fell to the ground, rolling around in agony.
Startled, Song Zhe took two steps back and bumped into someone.
Looking back, it was Sun Dabiao.
Sun Dabiao, his face also covered in blood, grinned at him:
"Good job, kid. You've got potential. Keep it up!"
Before Song Zhe could speak, another person rushed up.
This time there were three people, carrying sticks and knives.
Sun Dabiao went to meet him, and Song Zhe's eyes turned red and his mind went blank.
He grabbed an axe from the ground and charged forward.
Thanks to the solid basic skills of actors, they are quite agile.
They can dodge and weave and run fast.
They did manage to escape quite a few deadly attacks.
In the end, he was beaten into a ditch with a stick.
Song Zhe lay in the ditch, looking at the sky, unable to utter a single word.
My whole body aches; I have countless wounds on my hands, face, and body.
A whistle sounded in the distance.
"The police are here." Sun Dabiao jumped into the ditch and called to Song Zhe, "Let's go."
He pulled Song Zhe.
Song Zhe couldn't get up; his leg cramped.
Sun Dabiao lifted him up and dragged him away.
After descending the loess slope, a group of people were squatting in a sheltered spot at the foot of the mountain.
Zhao Bala was there, with a bloody gash on his face, wiping it with his sleeve.
Er Biao, Wang Laogeda, and a dozen others were squatting nearby.
This was something they had agreed upon beforehand; if they got separated, they would meet here.
Everyone was panting, some clutching their wounds, cigarettes dangling from their lips, the embers glowing intermittently.
Sun Dabiao threw Song Zhe to the ground.
Song Zhe lay there, covered in dirt, his face streaked with coal dust and sweat, revealing the white flesh beneath.
The red ribbon around his head was nowhere to be found, and his messy hair was covered with grass clippings and blood.
Zhao Bala glanced at him, stood up, walked over, and squatted down.
Song Zhe lay face down, his face buried in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
In that instant, he experienced at least ten life-or-death situations.
That's fucking terrifying.
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