Mercenary’s War
Chapter 1337 - 1320: Impact Force

Chapter 1337: Chapter 1320: Impact Force

Texas produces cowboys in abundance. People here love pickups, they can’t live without guns, and strongly believe in gun ownership. Texas has very developed agriculture, and those farmers who were once disdainfully called rednecks now proudly refer to themselves as rednecks. How to put it? People around here are relatively more rugged.

Precisely because of Texas’s unique characteristics, it’s an ideal place for another military company to emerge. Plus, they don’t charge state taxes here, and that’s crucial.

Redneck is a term for hillbilly, but Texas isn’t just about agriculture. It’s not only about NASA; the oil industry, electronics industry, and financial sector are all thriving. Why? Texas not charging state tax is a significant reason.

Above is Gao Yang’s impression of Texas.

Upon arriving in Houston, after Gao Yang followed Morgan to complete his company’s registration, all that was left was the evening’s social gathering.

Gao Yang knew that many things in Texas differed from New York, differing from the entire north. Still, he thought that since it was a high-society gathering, even if there were differences, they wouldn’t be too significant. After all, a social gathering is pretty much just well-dressed people engaging in casual chit-chat while sipping some drinks.

But when it came down to it, Gao Yang realized he was wrong. First, the gathering wasn’t in Houston, nor was it at a villa in the suburbs. The venue was indeed in the suburbs, but it wasn’t a villa—it’s a farm, not even one of those idyllic green farms meant for sightseeing. Everywhere he passed along the way, both sides of the road were genuinely vast farmlands.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, but Gao Yang found himself struggling to adapt; Morgan didn’t take a luxurious sedan but rented an off-road vehicle for his driver to drive.

Gao Yang had attended two gatherings before, both after dark, yet here they were starting while the sun was still high.

"The host we’re visiting is named Morey, Morey Perry. He is a native Texan, and we’re heading to his family-run farm that spans generations. His main industry is oil, and we have quite a good relationship. So, after receiving the invitation, I came, and I’ve already asked him to introduce you to some people who might be useful to you."

Gao Yang knocked on his head, looking baffled, "An oil tycoon?"

Morgan tilted his head thinking, "Is he one? Kind of! He produces oil equipment but doesn’t conduct his oil field explorations. He simply invests with his equipment to participate in oil production. He has shares in several oil fields in the Gulf of Mexico—not exactly a tycoon but still quite influential."

Gao Yang questioned as he pointed outside the car window, "An oil tycoon lives in a place like this?"

Morgan laughed, "I said, he’s a Texan, and from generations back."

With that, Morgan drove off the highway and onto a dirt road. Gao Yang tugged at his plaid shirt, looking slightly uncomfortable, "An oil tycoon doesn’t even pave his road to home better?"

Morgan shrugged, "Rednecks, they like it this way."

Gao Yang saw a cluster of trees, and after entering the woods, he spotted the house, followed by a fleet of parked vehicles. Although he knew those attending the gathering were wealthier or of high status, the cars parked in front of the house were mainly pickups and off-road vehicles.

Gao Yang sighed and said, "I can’t figure out these Texan gatherings."

Morgan chuckled, "They serve the same function as a gathering, but the format—um, you’ll see. You certainly won’t need to walk around holding your wine glass. People here have their own socializing style."

Morgan’s driver stopped the car. Gao Yang took an overcoat and stepped out. The Texan climate has a large temperature difference. It’s March, and under the sunlight, Gao Yang felt slightly warm, but as soon as the sun sets, it would get cold.

While Gao Yang donned his coat, he saw a grey-haired old man raising his hand to Morgan, shouting, "Hey, Morgan! Welcome, my old friend."

Morgan shouted back, "Morey, my friend, how have you been?"

Gao Yang followed behind Morgan toward the host. But after taking just two steps, he suddenly heard gunshots.

Instinctively, truly by instinct, Gao Yang grabbed Morgan by the arm and pulled him back, simultaneously grabbing Morgan’s neck to shield him behind, while his other hand reached for his gun.

Regrettably, Gao Yang wasn’t armed because he was attending a social gathering. Gao Yang didn’t even wait to realize he had no gun before he began pushing Morgan backward.

Morey stared at Gao Yang, stunned, while Morgan, pushed backward, struggled to break free from Gao Yang’s grasp, shouting, "Hey, hey, stop! Damn it, what are you doing!"

Gao Yang realized he might have overreacted, but couldn’t help it. Having been in the battlefield for too long, being shot at too many times, upon hearing gunshots—especially uncertain ones, the first reaction is to counterattack, the second is to escape quickly.

Morgan brushed Gao Yang’s hand aside, looking at him helplessly, "What are you doing!"

Gunshots continued, and Gao Yang pointed toward the direction they came from, bewildered, "What am I doing? That’s the sound of gunshots, and it’s very close!"

Morey walked toward Morgan, with a strange look on his face, "Your bodyguard?"

Morgan, looking exasperated, said, "No, he’s my friend. The one I’ve told you about, Gao. Gao, this is Morey Perry."

When Gao Yang reached out to shake Morey’s hand, Morey laughed and said, "Haha, don’t mind them; they’re just starting the pre-dinner entertainment."

Gao Yang forced a smile, saying, "Uh, sorry, I think I’m a bit nervous."

Morey laughed heartily and said to Gao Yang, "A New Yorker? I can tell by your shoes. No one here would wear such exquisite handmade shoes, because the land here isn’t suitable for them. Only New Yorkers would wear those types of shoes in Texas."

Gao Yang shook his head and said, "No, I’m from New York, but I’m not a New Yorker."

Morgan waved his hand and said, "Alright, Gao, go have some fun in the back. You’ll enjoy it."

After walking around the house, Gao Yang realized the so-called cocktail party was nonsense, and the barbecue festival was what it really was. And Morey’s guests weren’t just huddled together for a chat - a bunch of them were wildly shooting guns as a pre-dinner game.

Strictly speaking, Gao Yang is a straightforward guy, and this kind of party that involves shooting before barbecuing is more his style, if you can call a barbecue festival with beer a cocktail party.

There were many barbecue grills, but the fires hadn’t been lit yet. Dozens of white plastic chairs were set up, and among the dozen or so men and women present, some were sitting while others were holding rifles, shooting at iron targets set up in the space behind the house. The area was spacious enough for free shooting.

Morey picked up a bottle of beer, opened it, and handed it to Gao Yang, then laughed and said, "Enjoy yourself; it’s pre-dinner entertainment time."

The popping gunfire was so loud that conversations were impossible, so whether it was a social cocktail party or a social barbecue, those would have to wait until this rather unique entertainment activity ended.

Morgan also held a bottle of beer and shouted, "Go have some fun, and say hi to everyone."

Morey shouted, "Gao is a Huaxia person, right? In my impression, Huaxia people aren’t very good at shooting, but they’re pretty good at playing cards. Wait a bit, and you can play Texas Hold’em."

Gao Yang didn’t speak; he just raised his beer bottle, smiled, and took a sip. But Morgan shouted at Morey, "Buddy, I’ve told you plenty of times, making assumptions based on stereotypes will get you in trouble, and you’re making a big mistake now."

Morey nonchalantly said, "I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Alright buddy, let’s chat later; I need to greet some guests."

After patting Morgan on the shoulder, Morey left, while Gao Yang leaned towards Morgan and said loudly, "Their entertainment activities sure are unique."

Morgan laughed, "No one here dislikes guns, but most importantly, Morey loves shooting sports. Alright, you can’t be too reserved here—go, and greet them in your best way."

Gao Yang nodded and smiled, "I’m on it."

Holding his beer bottle, Gao Yang walked behind a table filled with guns. Six people were lined up in front of it, shooting. It wasn’t a competition, and no one was aiming at specific targets; they were just shooting wildly.

Gao Yang observed that some were shooting with semi-automatic rifles, and others with pistols. The table had a full array of guns—pretty much all the common American ones were there.

Gao Yang picked up a 1911, grabbed a couple of magazines, and stood at the edge of the line of people, then raised the gun and started shooting.

For others, it was just fun; for Gao Yang too, it was fun. But when it came to guns, Gao Yang’s fun wasn’t just fun anymore.

After a few clang shots, Gao Yang switched magazines and started shooting again. It was only after he finished the second magazine that he realized his shooting method was a bit excessive.

Normally, firing a shot at the iron target would make a "ding" sound, which was normal in this entertainment mode. But when the "ding" sound and its echoes formed a continuous line, it was not normal.

Realizing his shooting was a bit overboard, Gao Yang intentionally slowed down, shooting one shot at a time. His accuracy remained the same, but at least the sounds didn’t merge into a continuous stream anymore.

After shooting twice, Gao Yang noticed something odd.

It was too quiet. When Gao Yang glanced to his right, he realized all six people who were shooting earlier had stopped and were now staring at him.

Swallowing hard, Gao Yang sighed helplessly, knowing that as soon as he started shooting, he would inevitably reveal his identity. The power of habit was too strong; it compelled him to unload bullets at the fastest speed whenever he picked up a gun.

The way Gao Yang greeted them was too impactful, so impactful that it was impossible for others to ignore him.

Finally, after shooting the last bullet, Gao Yang picked up the two empty magazines he had dropped on the ground. Just as he was about to put them back on the table, a muscular giant enthusiastically said, "Buddy, how did you just do that? Do it again." (To be continued. If you like this work, please support it on Qidian with votes. Your support is my greatest motivation. Mobile users, please read on m.qidian.com.)