Raul followed Toto.
After leaving the police station, he had far more information than Zhou Qingfeng, and he meticulously reviewed the list of everyone present last night, quickly pinpointing Toto as the prime suspect.
When Toto emerged from his second-floor apartment, Raul was sitting in a car on the street, quietly observing his cautious movements.
When Toto mounted his creaky old bicycle and sped towards the "Scorpion" pub, Raul calmly started his engine, took a shortcut, and arrived at the pub faster than Toto.
He parked his car in a dark spot, turned off the engine and lights, and melded into the darkness like a lurking leopard waiting for its prey to walk into the trap.
However, Raul didn't expect that Zhou Qingfeng had also intervened—without wearing a stocking over his head before entering the bar, which anyone could have told was indicative of a burglar.
At the moment of the gunshot, Zhou Qingfeng immediately recognized Raul's voice and was equally surprised. He had thought Raul was already in police custody but hadn't expected him to escape so quickly.
Toto fell, lifeless, the multi-million dollar lottery ticket hidden in a waterproof pouch on his chest.
But the real struggle began immediately.
The bar was pitch black, with the only light coming from the emergency lamp Toto had brought, now fallen on the ground, its beam delineating the boundary for the imminent confrontation.
Taking advantage of the darkness, Raul launched a sneak attack, slightly raising his gun and firing several shots towards Zhou Qingfeng. The sound of gunfire was deafening in the narrow space.
However, the faint sound of footsteps still gave away Raul's presence, allowing Zhou Qingfeng to dodge at the last moment and hide behind the solid bar counter.
After firing several shots, Raul paused, lowering his gun slightly. He widened his eyes and perked up his ears, trying to pinpoint Zhou Qingfeng's position in the dark, preferably catching a glimpse of his corpse.
But after waiting for a while and seeing nothing, he decided to call out towards the bar, "Victor, answer me! How did you get here? Where did you get your information?"
Zhou Qingfeng, hiding behind the bar, did not respond. His back was pressed against the cold wall, and his fingers quickly groped in the dark.
Soon, his fingertips touched a broken bottle. The bottle was cold and sharp-edged, the perfect weapon for this moment.
He grabbed the bottle, took a deep breath, half crouched, and threw the bottle towards the direction of the gunfire.
Raul, feeling confident with the gun in his hand, believed he had the absolute advantage. After firing, he didn't immediately move. However, he never expected his opponent's reaction to be so swift and precise.
With a "bang," the bottle smashed against his chest. The sharp-edged bottle, like a blade, instantly tore through his clothes, cutting into his skin.
The sharp pain caused Raul to grunt and stagger backward.
The darkness magnified his pain infinitely, and fear surged into his heart like a tidal wave.
Instinctively, Raul pulled the trigger again, firing several more shots, attempting to dispel his inner panic with the gunfire.
Bullets flew everywhere in the bar, splintering the wooden boards of the bar counter.
But after a few more shots, the gun clicked, signaling an empty chamber—he was out of bullets.
Raul's heart sank. He wasn't a cop or a gang member, had no combat experience, didn't bring any extra magazines, and never thought he would have to reload.
The psychological advantage evaporated in an instant, replaced by overwhelming fear.
He glanced at Toto, lying in a pool of blood, his pale face ghastly in the emergency light.
Without hesitation, Raul turned and ran for the bar's entrance.
But Zhou Qingfeng had been waiting for the 'empty chamber' moment. Like a leopard, he sprang out from behind the bar, moving swiftly and fiercely.
Fixing his gaze on Raul, he quickly caught up and delivered a powerful kick to Raul's back.
Caught off guard, Raul fell heavily to the floor, his head hitting the ground with a dull thud. The pain darkened his vision, almost making him faint.
Before he could struggle to his feet, Zhou Qingfeng had already pinned his waist, bending an arm to tighten around Raul's neck.
Raul felt a wave of suffocation, the shadow of death closing in. His confidence crumbled under the weight of fear. With the last of his breath, he hoarsely shouted:
"No, don't kill me! We can split it! Twenty-two billion US dollars, enough for both of us..."
Zhou Qingfeng's left arm formed a V under Raul's jaw, while his right arm locked behind his head. He exerted force, executing a merciless chokehold.
Raul's voice stopped abruptly, his face rapidly turning red, his hands weakly slapping Zhou Qingfeng's arm, pleading and struggling.
But Zhou Qingfeng's grip was as solid as a rock, not slackening in the slightest.
"Want to know how I've lived the past few years?" he murmured darkly, like a demon's whisper from hell, a wave from a sea of bitterness, each word delivering cutting chill.
His eyes were cold and merciless, gazing into a distant, painful past. His arm clamped around Raul's neck like a pincer, with unyielding force.
Raul's face turned from red to purple, his breathing becoming increasingly faint, his hands weakening by the second, death approaching.
"I lived like a dog," Zhou Qingfeng let out a self-mocking laugh, stifled by long-suppressed anger and resentment. "No, not even as well as a dog."
The memories were excruciating, his voice wavering between hoarseness and sharpness, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.