There are always those arrogant people in this world, so full of themselves they don't know the meaning of death.

In the eyes of Tao Haitong and Tao Qian at this moment, Wang Zhuo was exactly such a person, the kind of fellow Beijingers often curse as a "stinking idiot."

The current level of simulation has indeed reached a miraculous state; it’s difficult to tell a real gun from a fake one just by looking. Some even perfectly mimic the weight. At first touch, even seasoned shooters would mistake it for the real thing.

But things can be viewed from another angle: if the Second Young Master Tao is holding a gun, could it possibly be a fake?

This is something even a novice could grasp instantly, yet Wang Zhuo acts with such disdain, so flippantly, showing no regard for Tao Haitong. Tao Haitong is already thirty-nine, nearing forty, while Wang Zhuo looks barely in his early twenties. Being mocked by such a "little brat" instantly set Tao Haitong’s temper ablaze!

But no matter how angry he was, he had to consider the consequences. There was no one else in the restroom. If not for that scene in public earlier, he might have dared to shoot the man in the leg and teach him a lesson. But with hundreds of people outside monitoring the situation, if he fired a shot, someone with ill intentions could stir up trouble, and the resulting mess would be considerable.

Illegally carrying a firearm, even if caught red-handed, could be dismissed easily with the Tao family's influence—immediate bail, a mere formality, and then it would fizzle out. But injuring someone with a shot changes the nature of the crime entirely. Since Tao Haitong carried a gun, he certainly knew the repercussions of using it.

This put Tao Haitong in a difficult position. Shoot? The consequences were unbearable. Don't shoot? The other party treats your gun like a toy, which is intolerable!

The consequence of being intolerable is taking a beating—but the one taking the beating wouldn't be the defiant party, but rather him, the one holding the gun to threaten someone. How could the Second Young Master Tao, who had shown all his cards hoping to command the other party to kneel and then beat him soundly, accept this humiliation?

“Are you an idiot or what?” Tao Qian, unlike Tao Haitong, wasn't considering things so deeply. He cursed Wang Zhuo loudly and then said to Tao Haitong, “Second Brother! Let this bastard see some blood; let him taste what a peanut is like.”

Huāshēngmǐ (peanut) is slang for a bullet, a common expression in many films. Both Tao Haitong and Wang Zhuo understood this.

This restroom on the first floor of Century Heaven Sound was extremely spacious. Considering the hall could accommodate several hundred guests, a large restroom was necessary. Outside, explosive music was playing; the popular singer Bai Shuang was performing on stage.

No one had entered because the second boss of Century Heaven Sound had already instructed the security guards to secure the hallway outside. Although they claimed they were "sweeping," who didn't know the conflict inside hadn't ended? It was an unspoken agreement.

Wang Zhuo glanced dismissively at the foul-mouthed Tao Qian, his muscles tensed, ready at any moment for Tao Haitong to lose control and fire.

Actually, he was waiting for Tao Haitong to shoot. Illegal possession of a firearm and injuring someone with a firearm were entirely different concepts. He harbored a mischievous thought: he wanted Tao Haitong to get a longer sentence!

After a moment of hesitation, Tao Haitong finally hardened his resolve. He hooked his thumb upwards, flicking the hammer on the rear of the pistol.

Among the various parts of a handgun, the trigger is what fires the bullet; hooking it with the index finger shoots the round. The safety locks the gun to prevent accidental discharge. The magazine holds the ammunition, also called the slide, and where it inserts is the slide recess—the grip of the handgun.

The movable part at the rear of the gun—the one most commonly seen in films, which the shooter often flicks with their thumb to warn an opponent—is called the hammer. When it springs forward, it strikes the primer at the base of the cartridge, igniting the powder through impact to propel the projectile out of the barrel and achieve a lethal effect.

Tao Haitong’s action of cocking the hammer was identical to what police officers or villains do in films, and the purpose was the same: to intimidate his opponent, apply pressure, and make the other party realize he wasn't bluffing; he was serious!

Was Wang Zhuo scared?

It’s often said that skill breeds boldness. Pointed at by a handgun with the safety off, anyone other than a complete simpleton would feel nervous or even sweat. But Wang Zhuo was using his X-ray vision to constantly monitor Tao Haitong’s emotional reactions, knowing he wasn't actually prepared to fire.

Even if something unexpected happened, Wang Zhuo was confident in his ability to dodge in time, so he wasn't afraid!

But when Tao Haitong cocked the hammer, Wang Zhuo suddenly saw a flash of viciousness in his eyes. Wang Zhuo immediately felt a warning sign, realizing this man intended to get serious!

In the process of human movement, thought first dictates action, then the brain sends commands, which are transmitted via nerve impulses to the motor nerves, causing the muscles to contract or relax to execute the commanded movement.

When Tao Haitong's mind decided to treat Wang Zhuo to a peanut, Wang Zhuo captured this almost simultaneously from his expression, simultaneously receiving the warning sign. Then, Tao Haitong’s nerves sent signals to his body, commanding his arm to lower. Wang Zhuo’s X-ray vision focused on his nerves. Although the command speed from the brain is said to be as fast as light and electricity, muscle reaction and blood supply require a certain amount of time. By the time Wang Zhuo detected Tao Haitong was about to act, he had already initiated corresponding countermeasures!

Tao Haitong’s plan was actually to lower his arm and shoot Wang Zhuo in the thigh—a place without life-threatening danger, and with a low probability of causing permanent disability. But Wang Zhuo couldn't determine whether he was about to command his finger to pull the trigger or do something else. Moreover, Tao Haitong had revealed the determination to shoot, and Wang Zhuo dared not risk his life playing such a monumental prank!

So, as soon as Tao Haitong’s arm muscles moved, Wang Zhuo twisted his body away from the muzzle, then his right hand shot out like lightning, gripping Tao Haitong’s descending hand. Then, shifting his stance, he moved to stand parallel to Tao Haitong, deftly inserting his index finger into the opening of the trigger guard, pressing down on Tao Haitong’s index finger and forcefully pulling the trigger.

“Bang!” The sound wasn't deafening, but it certainly wasn't small either. This restroom was about sixty or seventy square meters, with doors and windows shut tight. Firing a gun in such an enclosed space, while not quite ear-splitting, certainly sent a shock through the hearts of all three men, including Wang Zhuo!

As mentioned before, the Type 64 pistol has an awkward nickname: the "Little Pop-Gun." It has a small powder charge, so the muzzle report is quiet. This results in weaker stopping power and insufficient deterrent effect.

If it had been a Type 54 pistol, at this close range, it could have blown straight through Wang Zhuo’s thigh, causing a comminuted fracture, likely confining him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, perhaps even necessitating amputation!

This was also why Tao Haitong dared to fire: the "Pop-Gun's" sound was quiet. The loud music was roaring from the hall outside; he could gamble that few people would hear the gunshot. Furthermore, the "Little Pop-Gun" absolutely wouldn't penetrate Wang Zhuo’s thigh, thus avoiding messy, spraying blood that would be hard to clean up. In a moment, he’d just drag Wang Zhuo out, have someone mop the floor, and be done with it.

In reality, if Tao Haitong hadn't shown the intent to shoot, Wang Zhuo wouldn't have grabbed his wrist to fire the gun, as that bordered on "forcing the virtuous to do wrong." Although Wang Zhuo deliberately provoked him to draw the gun, thus inducing a crime, the boundaries were limited.

But Tao Haitong had already displayed the intention to fire; what reason did Wang Zhuo have to indulge him further? So after one shot, Wang Zhuo showed no restraint. His index finger pulled repeatedly, bang, bang sounds filling the air, bullets continuously spitting out, riddling the restroom door, the mirror, and the partitions.

After five rounds, Wang Zhuo suddenly felt a burning pain in his thigh, and the pistol suddenly jammed.

He glanced down, saw a hole in his pants, and instantly understood, breathing a sigh of relief!

Bullets, due to their high speed and immense power, generate powerful rebounds when striking hard objects. Records of ricochets injuring or even killing people are not uncommon. He had been so focused on delivering a satisfying blast to frame Tao Haitong that, because he'd been drinking, he neglected the danger of a ricochet!

If this ricochet had struck him squarely, he would certainly have been injured. If it had hit his face, he could have lost several teeth or even blinded an eye.

This is why playing with guns is dangerous; if something goes wrong, this thing can be fatal!

He shoved Tao Haitong aside and simultaneously brought his hand down sharply on Tao Haitong’s wrist. The Type 64 pistol clattered to the floor. Wang Zhuo kicked it away, sending it aside. It bore Tao Haitong’s fingerprints, which were evidence of him firing the gun!

Looking at the floor, Wang Zhuo saw Tao Qian sitting in disarray, holding his head, a trickle of blood seeping between his fingers. His light gray dress slacks were stained dark with urine. The young man had nearly been shot by Wang Zhuo and was finally hit by a stray bullet, scaring him into wetting himself.

A quick scan with his X-ray vision left Wang Zhuo speechless. This man was either lucky or unlucky. Unlucky because, in such a large restroom, he miraculously got hit by a ricochet on the head, scraping off a large patch of scalp. Lucky because he wasn't killed or crippled by the rebound.

Tao Haitong, filled with anger and fear, snapped back from the sudden upheaval and understood the other party's intention: he was being led into committing a crime, being framed!

The gun? Tao Haitong brought it. The fingerprints? Also left by Tao Haitong. This was a restroom; there were no surveillance cameras to exonerate him!

The series of gunshots immediately attracted the attention of the crowd outside. When the noise stopped, the second boss, who hadn't left the door, coldly ordered, “Big Liu, Old Zhao, the two of you go in and check!”

“Boss,” a young man who looked like a head security guard, or perhaps an enforcer, said with a pained expression, “Let’s wait a bit longer. From the sound, it was the Little Pop-Gun. Only five shots were fired; maybe there are still two or three left.”

The other young man, also named, chimed in agreement. After all, the Type 64 held 7+1 rounds. Who knew if the man firing had gotten his fill? Although everyone joked that this gun was weak and couldn't kill anyone, nobody was foolish enough to invite that kind of trouble by going in to see if they were going to catch some stray bullets.