The Flower Scorpion looked at him indifferently, "You don’t want your arm anymore?"
Seeing there was no escape, the bandit had a ruthless glint in his eyes, "Alright, I’ll give you an explanation!"
He pulled out a Short Dagger with his left hand and slashed at his right hand, two fingers dropping to the ground.
You can’t stand firm if you’re not ruthless. Surviving on the Wasteland emphasizes this more—not only towards others but also towards yourself.
Blood spurted out as he looked at the Flower Scorpion with a pale face, trembling as he asked, "Madam, are you satisfied?"
"I’m not satisfied!" the Flower Scorpion replied bluntly, "I want your whole hand, who said just two fingers would be enough?"
"Besides, I want to do it myself, who gave you the face to do it yourself?"
This is the true mentality of the strong—I’m the one to punish you... Who told you to show your toughness?
The bandit’s face went pale, his body swayed, "Madam, without fingers, I can’t do this trade anymore."
The Flower Scorpion nodded slightly, "Alright, cut off your companion’s hand, and I’ll spare you."
As she spoke, she drew out a Laser Pistol, pointing it at the man’s forehead, "I’ll count to three..."
Not giving him any chance to refute, the time to choose was only three counts—live or die?
The bandit had a lot to say, like emphasizing the friendship that should exist between companions.
But with only three counts... he turned and walked towards his companion, stomping on his left arm.
The companion struggled desperately, but losing so much blood had left him without much strength.
The knife rose and fell, a hand dropped, blood splattering everywhere...
Loyalty and betrayal truly are eternal themes on the Wasteland.
The Flower Scorpion shook her hand, firing a shot that sent the severed hand flying, then holstered the Laser Pistol, speaking indifferently, "Alright."
Then she gestured to Spencer, "Bring that dog, get in the car."
She had established her authority, but staying in this Honest Camp was absolutely impossible, she just needed to take the old man and leave.
Watching her series of cold-blooded actions, Spencer wouldn’t dare say anything against her, obediently climbing into the car.
Yet even so, his old eyes kept darting around sneakily.
Though the supplies in the vehicle were plenty, they were all tied down securely, necessary for long-distance travel and also to prevent anyone with ill intentions.
Cindy’s experience wasn’t too bad either, as she shifted into reverse and backed the car out without waiting for the Flower Scorpion to give any instructions.
Once they had backed out seven or eight hundred meters, she skillfully turned the wheel, and the off-road pickup sped off.
However, after driving three or four kilometers, the speed gradually decreased. This update is available on novel·fire.net
Then the car door opened, and a short, stocky figure climbed onto the sideboard—it was Claire.
Girls from the Wasteland really weren’t pampered; wasn’t she even wearing a face mask?
She nimbly flipped into the truck bed, surveyed Spencer up and down, then spoke gruffly, "Boss, give me this dog?"
Spencer’s legs gave way and he knelt down, "Adventurer Madam, spare me, this is my livelihood,"
Even though he knew that one of the top fighters was cold and the other ruthless, the hardest to please at this moment had to be this little devil.
Grown-ups at least had basic logic to their actions, but children... they had no reasoning at all.
Just like that, she wanted his lifeline with a single word, so he could only choose to bend and stretch as necessary.
"I must have this Snow Mastiff!" Claire declared domineeringly—this was why mom slowed down to let her into the truck bed.
The main thing was this dog was too cute, knowing how to fake injuries, play dead, and act lame...
Spencer didn’t dare say anything, only able to chuckle bitterly and reply, "You might as well kill me then."
"Then I’ll kill you!" Claire furrowed her brow and pulled a Laser Pistol from her waist—Cindy had just given it to her.
The Laser Pistol was from Qu Jianlei, Cindy temporarily loaned it to her daughter, not wanting her to kill with a knife.
Killing with a knife, she worried it would be bad for the child’s growth, and also... it could be countered easily by others.
But it also indicated, in another way, that she did not mind if her child killed, even if it was a girl.
The Wasteland is like this, soft-hearted children won’t grow up—Cindy used to not understand this, but now she does.
"Auntie, please wait," Spencer was scared out of his wits, "I’ll sell, I’ll sell, will that suffice?"
"That’s better," Claire shook the pistol in her hand, "Five silver coins, is that okay?"
"It’s my first kill, and I don’t want to kill an old man who can’t fight back."
I don’t want you to kill me either! Spencer had no tears left to cry.
He had no choice but to speak up, "Xue’Er is very smart... really worth more than five silver coins."
"That doesn’t concern me, I think it’s worth five silver coins, so that’s all it is worth," Claire asserted confidently.
"When you had it run into the car, you didn’t consider our thoughts, so why should I consider yours?"
——————
The saying that the wicked have their own wicked grindstone is absolutely true.
Spencer’s reputation at the Honest Camp was that of an old rogue, all he had was his old age and a dog.
He wasn’t afraid of being beaten while scamming, as long as a bunch of neighbors backed him up, no one could take his dog away.
However, now a kid had declared that his dog was hers, and if he didn’t agree... she’d kill him!
This was not just talk, Wasteland kids truly dared to kill.
So he conceded cleanly, "I’m not worth dirtying your hands."
"Xue’Er will only listen to me, this Snow Mastiff... will only be loyal to one person in a lifetime, you can ask this lady if you don’t believe me."