Chapter 64: The Raccoon Hat
[Ding! Congratulations, Host, for gifting the Magical Item to its most suitable owner. The ancient Native American stone-axe perk has been unlocked.]
This system is as glitchy as my old phone—important alerts never pop up on time.
Yet trivial garbage flashes faster than some young masters' updates.
'You damned bastards, not even worth a pile of dog crap!'
'Not even worth a tree…'
'Not even worth a buffalo…'
'A Native American…'
'I once shot nineteen buffalo in one go—not Native Americans.'
'Because I've lost count of how many Native Americans I've sent to hell!'
'They deserved it; they weren't Christians, so I shipped them straight to hell! Hahaha!'
At that moment Charles, who had stood silently listening, saw the veins on his forehead twist like furious little snakes beneath his skin.
His once-deep, calm eyes now blazed with fire.
One more word and he would have lunged to teach that loud-mouthed bigot a lesson he'd never forget.
Johnny, who'd been talking with Charles, caught the change in his brother's mood at once.
He knew that if Charles—given who he was—started a brawl here, especially with these unreasonable rednecks,
the moment things spiraled the whole crowd would automatically side against him.
Then the situation would be impossible to contain.
Thinking this, Johnny gave Charles's shoulder a light pat and said firmly,
'Don't worry, brother. Leave this to me.
I know your position; you really can't throw punches in a place like this.
Trust me—I'll handle it right and make sure it doesn't turn into a circus.'
Before the words had settled, Johnny tilted the bottle and downed the last of the rotgut.
Then he stood, strode straight toward the old man spitting tall tales of his so-called heroics.
With every step the fury in Johnny's eyes burned hotter.
He stared at the smug-faced geezer and demanded, word by word,
'You honestly think bragging about those atrocities is something to be proud of?
Every man here has Native American blood on his hands, one way or another.
Yet at least we keep our heads down and survive carefully on this land.
But you—no remorse, and you flaunt it like a badge?'
Johnny pressed forward, glaring with naked hostility, looking like a starving tiger ready to pounce.
The saloon keeper, watching from afar, felt a stab of déjà vu…
and hurriedly stashed every bottle beneath the counter, terrified of collateral damage.
The old man saw trouble coming, but he wasn't made of dough either;
he stood straight up, ready to give Johnny a 'friendly' hello.
Johnny's real forte was a sucker-punch, but to avenge his brother he had to follow procedure: curse him out first.
Thanks to the maxed-out Western Ip Man perk, every swing the old man threw was blocked one hundred percent.
Before long the geezer ran out of steam and his attacks slowed.
Johnny seized the chance, slammed him with a shoulder-throw, and dragged him outside into the mud.
'Muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda.'
Every passer-by had seen Johnny's terrifying fighting power before,
so right now not one of them wanted to mess with this jinx and risk getting burned.
After venting his rage Johnny stood, dusted himself off, and swaggered back toward the saloon.
Inside, he stepped up to the owner and said grimly,
'Hey, boss, count yourself lucky—I didn't break a thing.
But let's get one thing straight: if that racist bastard ever sets foot in here again,
I swear, the moment I see him I'll beat him senseless.'
With that warning Johnny scooped up the raccoon hat from the floor and strode out.
Across the street Arthur and Pearson were buying flour and groceries,
arms loaded with sacks, ready to haul them to the wagon parked nearby.
Suddenly Arthur spotted a familiar saloon door swarming with onlookers—quite the commotion.
He blinked, muttering to himself,
'Huh… feels like I've seen this scene before. Could I have…?'
Still lost in thought, he soon saw Johnny and Charles walk out laughing.
When they came close Arthur hurried over to ask what had happened.
After hearing the whole tale Arthur ground his teeth, wishing he could put a purple bullet in the man lying in the mud.