Chapter 58: The Prize Has Increased

Thank you, Brother Sixty-Nine, for your generous reward. You've always supported me so powerfully—it’s truly moving! I also want to thank all my brothers for your longstanding support, rewards, and likes. I promise to write this book well.

A shot rang out—bang! The bottle shattered into pieces under the bullet.

“I think I can learn more advanced techniques now,” Tim said to Qiu Fengyu. “I can shoot moving targets. I have a feeling I’ll do really well.”

Tim was indeed progressing quickly. Fixed objects like these were no longer a challenge for him.

“Want a tougher challenge? No problem. After you graduate high school, go straight into the military. For someone like you, if you don’t make it into the SEALs, you’re worthless. Don’t bother talking or doing anything else!” Qiu Fengyu struck him mercilessly. “Go to those overseas colonies and kill people!”

“Colonies? Are there still colonies these days?”

“Of course. Not for other countries, but for America, there’s no issue—just a different name.” Qiu Fengyu shook his head, signaling Tim to put the gun away.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think. My words are orders.” Qiu Fengyu couldn’t be bothered to argue, climbed into the car, and gestured to Tim, “Dinner together, then I’ll take you to the Britt household.”

“No, just take me straight to Britt’s. I promised to have dinner with them,” Tim said from the passenger seat. “They’re good people.”

Qiu Fengyu didn’t argue and drove him to Britt’s home.

Because of the Cattle Riding Festival, school was on break. Starting tomorrow, Tim had three days off.

Qiu Fengyu dropped Tim at Britt’s doorstep, got out, and hugged Britt. Tomorrow was the day of the competition, though it would take place in the evening, at Allen Christopher’s farm. His cowshed had hosted the event for several years.

“Don’t be nervous, you’ll do fine,” Britt comforted Qiu Fengyu.

“I know, Britt. You should bet more,” Qiu Fengyu pointed at him, “I’ll make sure you win.”

But Britt didn’t heed Qiu Fengyu’s advice. Deep down, not just in his own heart, but in the hearts of most townsfolk, Qiu Fengyu was a newcomer—not likely to beat the veterans.

Training was one thing; the real competition was another. After all, the bull would be different.

As a holiday, tourists were flocking in. Most visitors gathered in Paso City, where designated farms hosted the competition. That was the main attraction, while only self-driving tourists would come to small towns like Abilene.

However, thanks to Qiu Fengyu’s viral bull-slaying video, Abilene had a few more tourists than other small towns.

They wandered in groups through the town, sampled Qiu Fengyu’s noodles, and ended up at Breckin’s bar for a drink. The more enterprising locals even organized cattle herding ceremonies for tourists—charging admission.

The cattle herding ceremony is a traditional craft. In the past, driving Texas herds to Los Angeles fetched higher prices, so cattle driving became a profession. Massive herds would march along highways to LA, with orderliness being paramount—so they wouldn’t trouble residents along the way.

It became a distinctive spectacle; many came to witness this tradition. With modern technology and diversified transport, no one drives cattle to LA anymore, but the ceremony survived, attracting countless tourists.

The next day was the competition, but Qiu Fengyu stuck to his routine. After dinner, he headed to the bar. There were more people than the previous days.

The strangers were obviously tourists. Anyone who found their way here knew about Qiu Fengyu. Someone recognized him, came up to the bar, and snapped a photo with him.

A twenty-dollar bill appeared on the bar in front of Qiu Fengyu.

He looked at them in surprise. The man smiled, “You deserve it,” shrugged amiably, and nodded.

Two more groups came to take photos. One gave fifty dollars, another mimicked the first group and handed over twenty.

A glass of vodka clinked onto the bar before Qiu Fengyu, and Breckin, with envy in his voice, said, “You’re something else—earning money just by sitting here.”

“If you learn to bleed a bull artistically, you could be just like me.” Qiu Fengyu raised his glass and drained it, then turned to look at the three groups. Seeing nothing amiss, he finally faced Breckin again.

Qiu Fengyu had developed this cautious nature over years.

“I’ve got some great news for you,” Breckin suddenly leaned in, speaking with feigned mystery.

“Go ahead, I’m listening,” Qiu Fengyu replied, seemingly uninterested.

Breckin grinned, “The prize this time has been raised to twenty thousand dollars.”

“Oh? Really?” Qiu Fengyu glanced at Breckin.

“Because of the Japanese,” Breckin said cheerfully. “They donated fifteen thousand dollars as prize money, so the total has gone up.”

“Excellent!” Qiu Fengyu nodded. Money is always a good thing, no matter who gives it.

“Tomorrow the Japanese will arrive and take over Sean Biggs’ ranch,” Breckin continued. “I like the Japanese—they’re generous.”

Qiu Fengyu said nothing, continuing to sip his drink.

The Japanese would come as they pleased—it didn’t concern him. He didn’t care how wealthy they were, as long as they left him alone.

Early the next morning, he went out for a run. Tim was already waiting at his door, much to Qiu Fengyu’s satisfaction. This kid didn’t need to be pushed to train; he had drive, had energy. Maybe it was the strength of his will for revenge.

He still ran into Officer Coffin, who seemed as if she were waiting for him.

“Hey, Qiu!” Coffin greeted.

“What is it?” Qiu Fengyu looked at her.

“Why not consider becoming a police officer?”

“What?” Qiu Fengyu was startled, stopping abruptly.

Officer Coffin stopped as well. Even Tim halted, only to earn Qiu Fengyu’s scolding. “Damn it! Are you going to stand here till breakfast?”

Tim made a face at Officer Coffin and ran off, grinning. He wasn’t as withdrawn as before—much more cheerful. Perhaps this was his true nature.

“I mean, why don’t you consider becoming a cop?” Officer Coffin spoke deliberately, word by word. “Does the idea surprise you?”

“No, no, it’s not your words that surprise me, it’s… when did you start thinking this?” Qiu Fengyu put his hands on his hips, looking at her. “Haven’t you seen me kill people?”

“Of course. I’ve seen it, and guessed you’ve killed quite a few…” Coffin looked at him seriously. “But… the people you killed were all scumbags. I’m not so rigid…”

“All right, let’s skip this… Honestly… you’re looking at the wrong person.” Qiu Fengyu resumed jogging. “I’ve considered doing many things, but never thought about being a cop.”

“Anything is possible!” Coffin winked. “You don’t have to answer now.”

“No, no, I can answer right now—it’s impossible.” Qiu Fengyu shook his head. “I’m not someone who can handle constraints. Like opening a noodle shop here—who knows, maybe I’ll shut it down any day. That’s how I think.”

“Don’t be so quick to answer! There’s plenty of time. Why not wait five years and answer then? Maybe you’ll change your mind!” Coffin wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“All right, Officer Coffin—” Qiu Fengyu smiled helplessly.

Actually, becoming a police officer in America isn’t easy. You must live in the country for over five years, then apply for citizenship, and only then can you qualify to apply.

It was simply impossible.

That’s what Qiu Fengyu thought. Coffin’s suggestion was, in his mind, utterly pointless—no constructive value at all. Become a cop? What a joke.

At noon, customers began coming for noodles. The first ones to enter, surprisingly, were the Japanese family. They sat properly in their booth, waiting for Davis to take their order.