Infinite Ebullience
Chapter 1091 - 56 The Vagabond

Chapter 1091: Chapter 56 The Vagabond

With a crack, a blue-white streak of lightning suddenly appeared in the night sky, resembling a ferocious centipede, followed by the onslaught of raindrops the size of beans.

"Please, Doctor, save my dog!" the homeless man knelt at the entrance of the clinic, weeping and wailing with all his might, pleading, and to keep the dog from getting wet by the rain and to prevent infection in its wounds, he took off his only piece of clothing, draped it over the dog, and continued begging.

The stray dog whimpered, licking the bandage wrapped around its wound, then licked its master’s hand, bit his pants, and struggled to stand up, to drag his master away from this place, but it was too weak, even breathing was excruciatingly difficult.

"Come on, I’ll take you to another one," the homeless man, seeing the doctor wouldn’t open the door, felt completely hopeless, "You have to hang on, you’ll be better soon, and then we’ll go find food together."

Wrapping his beloved dog tightly in his clothing, the homeless man ran madly through the heavy rain, the downpour obscuring his vision. As he passed a street corner, a yellow sports car suddenly drifted and surged into the street, its tires spraying water like a waterfall.

The homeless man was thoroughly drenched, the bright xenon headlights blinding him, making him scramble to avoid them, only to accidentally step into an uncovered sewer opening, his entire leg plunging in, he fell to the ground, and in doing so, he rolled his beloved dog out onto the street.

The leg of the homeless man was grazed by the cement sewer edge, flesh torn and bleeding. Already an elderly man, this only made it even more difficult for him to move, but he bit down on his pain and crawled out as quickly as he could.

"Don’t panic, I’ll take you to the doctor right now." The homeless man looked up, wanting to check on his dog’s injuries, only to find it lying five meters away, having permanently closed its eyes.

"Why?!" The homeless man pounded the ground in anger, crying out loudly, as a flash of lightning appeared, illuminating his grief-stricken face, which quickly turned ferocious.

Cradling his beloved dog, the homeless man climbed into a cemetery, and just as he had dug a hole, he was discovered by the cemetery guard.

"Hey, filthy ghost, take your dead dog and get out of here, this isn’t a place where it can sleep!" The guard, wearing a raincoat, held a shotgun in both hands, aiming at the homeless man, and roaring at him loudly.

The homeless man, as if deaf, kept digging.

"Crazy person, delaying my sleep." The guard cursed angrily. Seeing the dog corpse beside him, he fired a shot towards it, but missed, causing mud and grass to spray up.

"Don’t shoot it, I have money." The homeless man reached for his pocket, only to realize he had lost all the money he had made from collecting trash, leaving him with only a few coins.

"I couldn’t care less about your money." The guard, sleep disturbed, not in the least bit happy, reloaded and continued to fire at the dog corpse, this time hitting the target, blowing the stray dog’s head apart.

"Don’t!" The homeless man threw himself over it, shielding it with his body.

"FU~CK, are you an idiot?" The guard muttered to himself, walking over and kicking the homeless man away, he pressed the muzzle against the stray dog, turning it into a pile of mush, "Now how are you going to bury it? Hurry up and take this mess away."

The guard slung the gun over his shoulder and walked back into the house to catch up on his sleep.

The homeless man was completely enraged, drawing out a rusty fork, and pursued the guard. The noise from the rain masked his movements, and the guard failed to notice his approach.

"It’s a long night, isn’t it? Time to find some fu*king amusement." The guard hummed a tune, strolling leisurely, then suddenly caught a glimpse of a black shadow from the corner of his eye, he jolted, reaching for his gun to counterattack, when a hand with a fork reached from behind and stabbed into his neck.

"Die!" The homeless man pulled out the fork, blood spurted, and the guard didn’t die immediately, one hand pressing the wound, the other hitting the homeless man, unable to exert force from behind.

The homeless man had completely collapsed on the guard’s back, holding the fork, he stabbed frantically at the neck and face, his eyeball burst, his cheek pierced through, his throat bone heavily damaged.

After a few screams, the guard fell to the ground, stabbed for a full minute before he went limp and turned into a corpse.

The homeless man did not know if it was tears or rain on his face; it was wet. He didn’t stop until he was too exhausted to continue, then he lay down on the soil, letting the rain wash over him.

Looking at the mangled cheek of the guard’s corpse, watching the fresh blood on his hand washed clean in an instant, the homeless man’s heart twisted with pain, and after seeing his beloved dog’s body, all regret and worry dissipated.

The homeless man stripped the guard of his raincoat, picked up the pieces of his beloved dog’s body, wrapped it, and then, holding the shotgun, went into the guard’s house to look for tools.

"Old buddy, I’ll be back to join you soon, just won’t be sleeping next to you." The homeless man had even dug his own grave, right next to the stray dog, but he knew he wouldn’t need it.

The homeless man didn’t touch the guard’s money; armed with the shotgun and bullets, he walked into the storm. Twenty minutes later, he appeared outside a 24-hour gun store, glanced at the sign, and walked in.

"Hey, homeless man, get out." A middle-aged man sitting beside the cash register, drinking coffee, reading a Playboy magazine, glanced at the drenched homeless man and frowned.

"Hey, don’t make me say it a second time." As the homeless man took another step, the man drew a shotgun from the table with one hand, aimed at him, and commanded, "Get out."

"I have money." The homeless man pulled out a few coins, "I just want to buy a box of bullets."

"Get out, I don’t want your dirty money." The male merchant shook his head, gesturing with the tip of the gun.

The homeless man walked toward the door, filled with helplessness, discriminated against even when trying to make a purchase simply because he was a beggar.

The man put down his gun, gazing at the buxom, curvy models in the magazine, swallowed a gulp of saliva, and was about to unzip his pants when he suddenly heard a "click". Shocked, he looked up and saw the homeless man standing at the door, pointing a shotgun at him.

"Fuck!" the man cursed, reaching for his gun, when he heard "Die" followed by a shotgun blast that blew his head off.

The man fell back, his headless neck revealing a ghastly white spine.

The homeless man wiped the barrel of the gun and walked inside the shop, grabbed a package and stuffed it with firearms, bullets, and hand grenades.

Because of the heavy rain, the thugs stayed indoors; not catching a single hooligan the whole night, the homeless man never thought he would live past tomorrow, so he returned to the cemetery to continue keeping company with his beloved dog.

The next evening, the homeless man made a move.

"Alright, I’m going to do what I need to do," the homeless man was going to take a shower, but then thought that if he died, he might meet his dog in hell, and it might not recognize him if he was clean, so he gave up the idea.

Returning to the veterinary clinic before it closed, the homeless man walked straight in.

"It’s you again, get lost and don’t mess with my business," the veterinarian snapped, tired of listening to the prattling lady, decided to inject her Persian cat with some drugs to put it down early.

The homeless man said nothing, pulled the shotgun from under his raincoat, and fired at the veterinarian, watching his chest burst open before turning to leave.

The nurse and the pretentious lady screamed and made a phone call to the police.

The homeless man wanted to go to North City to find the robber who had stabbed his dog a few days prior, but before he could get on the bus, he was chased off by the driver.

Some passengers thought the driver was being too harsh, about to say a few words in protest, but then saw the homeless man pull out the shotgun and blow the driver’s head off, immediately screaming in shock.

The homeless man continued on foot, and after about two minutes, a group of hippies riding motorcycles passed by, saw him, and immediately surrounded him to make fun of him.

"Sorry, my hand slipped!" Splashing a hot drink at the homeless man, one of the hippies laughed and apologized mockingly.

Click, a bullet was chambered; the homeless man suddenly fired at the hippies, shattering one’s head, while the others froze, staring at him in horror.

"Sorry, my hand slipped too," the homeless man aimed at the second person, commencing his killing spree.

The hippies, who had never imagined that the meek victims of their bullying could turn into evil wolves, were caught off guard, and several fell.

After emptying the magazine, the homeless man pulled out a handgun; in just one minute, the street was filled with blood and corpses. He picked up a motorcycle and rode away.

Tang Zheng was about to finish his shift when he received a dozen emergency calls and immediately ordered everyone to respond.

"Director, I’ll go with you," the policewoman was a clerical officer who didn’t need to go out, but after arranging her brother’s affairs, she felt the need to repay Tang Zheng, hoping to catch a break.

The policewoman noticed Xu Liang Mao driving attentively and leaned towards Tang Zheng.

Tang Zheng saw a scene that seemed all too familiar.

"Robbery!" A middle-aged woman screamed from behind, as a young man wearing a mask and wielding a dagger dashed about, frightening pedestrians to step aside.

The young man’s mask bore a red cross, the same individual who had stabbed the homeless man’s dog to death days ago, and, coincidentally, the woman was also the same victim robbed in the previous incident.

"You again? Get lost!" The young man, enraged upon seeing the solitary figure of the homeless man in the street, lunged at him with the dagger.

"Old buddy, I avenged you," the homeless man pulled out a rifle and fired at the young man, shattering his legs, tormenting him for a while before finally killing him.

The onlookers scattered at the sight of the murder, all except for the woman who couldn’t part with her handbag.

The homeless man tossed the handbag at the woman, her face lighting up with joy from retrieving her lost item, yet she didn’t say thank you but reached out to catch it just as a series of gunshots went off, her skull blown away by the bullets.

Screech, the police car stopped not far away.

"Don’t move, you are under arrest," Xu Liang Mao got out of the car, gun drawn and facing off.