ATPnovel Chapter 24 Adventure Trial 1
Chapter 24 Adventure Trial 1
Tom thought that once he had dealt with the fugitives, things would be over for the time being, but now it seems he was too optimistic.
On a dusty street in Fort Worth, in front of a stall selling potions of immortality, a thin, filthy homeless man, clutching a bottle of cheap whiskey, stared bleary-eyed at the murky liquid in the vendor's hand.
"Ten dollars!" The shopkeeper stared at the only customer in front of his stall. Although the man looked like he had crawled out of a gutter, who knew if he had ten dollars hidden in his boot?
Tom's face, flushed from the smell of alcohol, and his dazed eyes stared at the medicine bottle for a long while before he finally grinned.
He exhaled a strong stench of alcohol: "You...this...crap potion...can it be as potent as this stuff?"
"Burp!" Tom let out a long burp, and the smell of cheap whiskey instantly filled the air!
"Of course it's powerful! But it costs ten dollars, do you have it?" The shopkeeper's appraising gaze seemed to want to strip Tom naked.
Tom chuckled and reached out: "Give it to me!"
The shopkeeper instinctively reached out to hand it over, but the stall owner next to him let out a loud, grotesque laugh, "Brown, did your eyeballs fall to the ground?"
"You want to get money out of homeless people? Hahaha, you're really crazy!"
Brown paused, his scrutinizing gaze filled with suspicion.
Tom gulped down a mouthful of whiskey, "Ah! That feels good!" Then, swaying slightly, he turned and left!
Elixir of Immortality?
It's not even as good as the whiskey in your hand; it's a complete scam, using the gimmick of curing all common diseases!
The reason why people were deceived was that the west was far from cities and medical care was scarce, so pioneers had to rely on purchasing medicine.
Furthermore, its ingredients have never been disclosed or verified, which suggests that the pharmaceutical laws enacted by the government in the 19th century were inadequate!
Tom certainly didn't come here specifically to buy the elixir of immortality.
Not far away, the rickety door of the "White Elephant Bar" was suddenly pushed open from the inside!
A man with a burly build, like a brown bear, charged out first.
His wide-brimmed, dirty felt hat was pulled low, his muscles were bulging beneath his thick, checkered velvet shirt, he wore a badly worn leather vest, thick canvas trousers covered in mud, and high-top leather boots covered in dry mud.
The most eye-catching thing was the two heavy revolvers that were slanted into the belt at his waist, their handles worn smooth and shiny.
Five or six men suddenly emerged from behind him, and Tom recognized one of them immediately – that damned fugitive!
"Lucas?" Tom's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly pulled up the handkerchief around his neck, covering most of his face.
He lingered there like a wandering spirit that blended into the shadows.
The group of people went straight into a dilapidated hotel across the street with a sign that read "Bison Hair Bone." The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them with a loud bang, and the sound of the latch hitting the floor was clearly audible.
"The hideout?" Tom squinted and silently approached.
In his peculiar "vision," the group of people went up to the second floor and gathered in a room.
Although it was impossible to hear exactly what was being said, the leader, Lucas, paced back and forth like an enraged bull, slamming his fist on the table, sending dust flying.
The muscles on his face, hidden by the shadow of the hat brim, were contorted, filled with rage and disbelief.
Clearly, the news that his men, whom he had sent to raid the camp and prepare to deliver a fatal blow to the immigrant team, had been wiped out was like a heavy hammer blow, leaving him seeing stars!
Tom had just dismissed one of his men when he immediately followed him silently like a shadow.
"They've probably gone to invite Drayton..." Tom thought to himself, after all, the source of that crucial information was in Drayton's hands.
Watching his subordinate slip into the "White Elephant Bar," whisper a few words to a towering man behind the bar, and then disappear back out.
Tom was wondering if he had guessed wrong when, not long after...
The creaking door of the bar was suddenly pushed open! The burly man stepped aside to let him pass, and a man with an intimidating aura strode out, followed closely by several burly men!
"The Drayton Gang!"
Tom's mind raced, and in a flash, he sprang out from the shadows, spreading his arms to block the road!
"Wait! I have some serious news!" He lowered his voice, his hoarse tone carrying the air of a desperate criminal, "It's about someone wanting to wipe out your Drayton gang!"
These words were like a stone thrown into stagnant water, instantly drawing the attention of several pairs of eyes on him. The leader, Drayton, grinned coldly, his eyes, hidden in the shadow of his felt hat, sharp as knives: "You little brat, trying to scam money from the Drayton Gang?"
His thugs behind him burst into a savage, disdainful laugh.
Tom paid no heed to the laughter. He quickly scanned the filthy streets around him, his fingers nervously twisting the hem of his tattered clothes. His voice was even lower, with a perfectly controlled tremor: "I just... just came out of the Buffalo Bone Inn... I heard people inside discussing... about... about wiping out your Clayton Gang!"
After saying that, his eyes, hidden behind the handkerchief, stared intently at Drayton, revealing an undisguised, greedy desire for the bounty.
Drayton's smile faded slightly.
Tom's furtive handkerchief, his nervous glances around, and this sudden "warning" all acted like hooks, arousing a sense of vigilance in his heart.
He took a step forward, his muscles taut beneath his leather vest, his voice low and rumbling like thunder: "Who told you that?"
Tom nervously wiped non-existent sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, leaving an oily stain along the edge of the handkerchief. "Money... are you going to give me a tip?"
"Damn it, the boss is asking you a question!" one of the thugs shouted impatiently, and his large hand came slapping Tom's shoulder!
Tom shrank back like a startled rabbit, but muttered a defiant curse under his breath: "Pah! Don't want to pay? Then you can wait to be stuffed into a coffin!" He then made a move to disappear into the alley next door.
But then his collar suddenly tightened!
A large, iron-like hand forcefully pulled him back.
Just as Tom was about to yell, a stiff, green banknote, smelling of sweat and tobacco, was slapped into Drayton's palm.
"Speak," Drayton's voice was utterly cold, "who?"
Tom quickly stuffed the ticket, still warm from the other person's body, into the deepest corner of his pocket, his movements as swift as a mouse stealing oil. A sly smile instantly spread across his face: "Buffalo Hairbone Inn! That's where I heard it!" He tried to slip away before he finished speaking.
"Trying to leave?" Drayton sneered, with a thug standing beside him blocking his way like a wall.
Drayton leaned close to the burly man from the iron tower and whispered a few urgent instructions.
The burly man nodded, giving Tom a fierce glare.
Drayton mounted his horse, cracking his whip in mid-air: "Go!"
Horseshoes clattered on the hard dirt road, kicking up a cloud of choking dust that pointed straight out into the desolate countryside beyond the town.
Tom was roughly shoved and stumbled along behind.
He knew perfectly well what Drayton, that old wolf, wanted to do: either drag him into a face-to-face confrontation, or worse, make him a scapegoat to pave the way.
"Damn it..." Tom cursed under his breath, but had no choice but to resign himself to following.
The wind of the wilderness whipped sand and gravel against his face, and he knew that he had completely waded into these muddy waters.
The betting has begun!