Exorcist of the American Nightmares

It seemed as though the man in front of him sensed he was being watched. He turned around, revealing himself to be Bild, who gave Old Brown a look and then glanced at the small room next to them. Finding amusement in the situation, Bild revealed a disgusting smile.

"Old man, want to buy one? They're all virgins, and the price is quite cheap..."

Old Brown stared at him. "Kid, do you think this joke is funny?"

Bild's eyebrows twitched, as if he wanted to say something, but in that instant, he sensed danger in that gaze. He quickly pulled out a Colt M1911 handgun and aimed it at Old Brown, his face turning cold and fierce.

"Old man, I don't like the look in your eyes!"

As Bild suddenly became aggressive, Old Brown did not raise his hands this time but instead glanced behind Bild.

Due to the sudden conflict, the people walking ahead had stopped and turned around. Old Brown calmly said to Bild while looking at Felton with a frown.

"Kid, I know you're in a hurry, but I also know your boss wouldn't like you doing this."

Sure enough, Felton, who was at the front, spoke up.

"Bild! Conduct business properly!"

As Bild looked at the old man in front of him and listened to the order from behind, his expression twisted further.

He tilted his head and made a slashing gesture across his neck with the handgun at Old Brown, then brushed past him and left the area.

The gesture was a clear warning from Bild.

Old Brown was unfazed and just looked at Felton. "I've bought your stuff, and now one of your men wants to kill me?"

Felton's face soured as he gestured to one of his men.

"Go, keep an eye on him. If he dares to lay a hand on a customer, kill him."

The assigned underling nodded seriously and walked in the direction Bild had left.

"Are you reassured now?" Felton asked Old Brown calmly.

Old Brown nodded.

"Then let's continue," Felton said, turning around with his remaining two underlings following him.

"Three people left..." Old Brown glanced in the direction Bild had left and continued to follow.

He followed the group to the end of the corridor and entered a room. Compared to the chaotic scene outside, this room had everything, resembling a pristine, dust-free heaven – a stark contrast to the hell outside.

Old Brown deliberately looked towards the wine rack to his right, noting two burly men sitting there, drinking wine.

"Russians again," he thought to himself.

"Two on the right, plus the three in front, makes five..."

By now, Felton had already settled on the central sofa, gesturing for Old Brown to sit.

"Sit!"

Feeling the gaze of the two Russians, Old Brown nodded and slowly walked over to sit on the small sofa in front of Felton.

"Go, get the goods and let him inspect them."

At Felton's command, the underling on his left went to fetch something, and Felton, picking up an unfinished glass of red wine from the table, lay back on the sofa and stared at Old Brown.

"You know, old man, I admire you. Not many dare to come here alone."

Old Brown's attention was partially on the underling heading towards a small room, and he spoke indifferently.

"At my age, what do I have to fear?"

Felton chuckled and took a sip of his wine. "Don't worry, we're legitimate businessmen."

Old Brown remained expressionless, recalling what he had seen outside. If these people were legitimate businessmen, then hell didn't exist.

The room fell silent, everyone's eyes on Old Brown on the small sofa. The underling who went to get the goods came out of the small room with a bunch of items.

He casually placed these on the coffee table in front of the sofa, then stood behind Felton.

A white, square brick, and several handguns.

The items on the table were exactly what Old Brown needed, including a handgun similar to Bild's Colt M1911.

Felton sat up, placing his wine glass on the coffee table and pushing the white brick towards Old Brown.

"This is about all your money can buy."

He said, picking up a handgun from the table and, after receiving a magazine from the underling, loaded it with a few clicks, then calmly said,

"The rest of your money can only buy one handgun."

Felton moved the gun's barrel slowly towards Old Brown and smiled.

"Choose."

Most people wouldn't remain composed under the barrel of a gun, but Old Brown was still calm, as he had said, what did he have left to fear at his age?

Old Brown silently picked up the white brick and tucked it into his coat, then glanced at the handguns on the table and randomly picked one up, its specifications automatically coming to mind.

"Glock 17, a standard service weapon of Austria, one of the top choices for police, 9mm bullets, 185mm in length, weighs 0.62kg, barrel length of 114mm, magazine capacity of 17 or 19 rounds..."

Unfortunately, there was no magazine. Old Brown looked at Felton and said flatly,

"No magazine."

Felton looked seriously at Old Brown for several seconds, perhaps respecting his elder status, he finally handed over the gun with a flick of his wrist.

"Give him a magazine."

At his command, the underling handed a magazine to Old Brown.

Under everyone's gaze, Old Brown examined the magazine and then looked at Felton.

"Only two bullets?"

Felton smirked, tapping his head with the gun.

"Old man, one for your kid, one for yourself. That's enough."

"Alright." Old Brown replied nonchalantly, sliding the magazine into the Glock 17.

"Indeed, it's enough."

As Felton continued, "A perfect transaction, old man. I hope to see you again. Go on, escort the old man out..."

However, Felton's words were cut short as he suddenly noticed that the old man had already aimed the handgun at him.

"You!!!"

Startled, Felton barely had time to react before Old Brown pulled the trigger – a surprise, quick and precise shot.

Bang! Felton's forehead burst open with a blood hole.

The gunshot startled everyone present, who had underestimated Old Brown due to his age. But as Felton slumped onto the sofa, they finally snapped to their senses and reached for their guns.

In that brief moment, Old Brown, following the steps in his mind, turned the barrel towards the nearest underling and pulled the trigger.

Bang! The underling, who had just reached into his coat, also fell to the ground with a bullet hole in his forehead.

Without pausing, Old Brown forcefully threw the now-empty Glock 17 at the face of another underling by the sofa.

"Ugh!"

The underling, stunned by the pain, instinctively covered his face. Taking advantage of this moment, Old Brown lunged at Felton, picking up his fallen handgun and shooting the distracted underling.

Bang! The underling was caught off guard and killed instantly.

Old Brown's actions were smooth and efficient – first, taking Felton and his left underling by surprise, then throwing the empty Glock 17 to gain time to pick up another gun, and finally shooting the right underling.

However, time was of the essence. By the time Old Brown had swiftly eliminated Felton and his three close associates, the two Russians by the wine rack had already drawn their guns and aimed at the now-exposed Old Brown, pulling their triggers.

Bang bang!