The young man lying on the ground clutched his thigh and screamed miserably. Out of the three bullets, one went astray, and the remaining two pierced into his thigh, causing a through-and-through injury.
This was mainly because the young man didn't have much body fat, and his muscle fibers weren't strong enough, allowing the bullet to easily tear through a thin layer of flesh and exit the other side.
"Lucky guy!" Lynch lowered his gun, "Your god is watching over you, granting you good fortune. I pardon you."
The bullet did not hit the bone; if it had, it would have lodged in the bone rather than passing through and falling out. Although this flesh wound looked terrifying—and indeed it was—it wasn't troublesome.
As long as the wound was treated properly, he would recover in no time.
The young man struggled for a while, and his screams gradually faded. He was sweating profusely, supported by others to stand up.
"Thank you for your mercy, Mr. Lynch..." Following a string of praises, the young man might have thought Lynch deliberately avoided hitting his leg bone, so he considered Lynch to be forgiving and merciful, not demanding to break his leg.
However, neither he nor anyone else knew that it was simply because Lynch's marksmanship was poor, but this incident brought a positive aspect.
Those who believe in religion, in gods, in fate, always think that every step of life is determined by some will. For instance, Lynch not hitting the young man's leg bone, his leniency, and mercy played a role, while fate did too.
This also led other young people to accept the outcome. They lined up to take the shots, even if someone was unlucky enough for a bullet to hit the bone, they would be helped up by others, praising Lynch's mercy and leniency.
Eventually, Lynch even gave them some money to see a doctor for their leg injuries. This series of actions made people both respect and fear Lynch for a time.
Just when everyone thought it was over, Lynch spoke again.
"I know some of you have taken things that belong to me, just like what we just went through. I am a reasonable person..." He stood in the center of the camp, looking at the onlookers around, his composed demeanor impressing people.
"You've taken my things, damaged my place. I will give you a chance to experience my leniency."
"Return what you took from me, and I will waive other responsibilities, but if anyone doesn't..." He looked at the Police Station Director nearby, "You will catch them, won't you?"
Lynch was not a local official nor part of the local ruling class; he was just a foreign Merchant. Yet, what he did didn't seem wrong to anyone at that moment.
The Police Station Director nodded repeatedly, "Yes, Mr. Lynch, I will catch those people for sure!"
"Very well, it's up to you. I need to take my father for some wound treatment," Lynch said, then looked at the bewildered young man standing aside, "You have a three-day leave to enjoy your honeymoon. Three days later, I want to see you at the construction site, understood?"
When Lynch took Nell into the car, Nell's wound had already stopped bleeding. He even began to pick at the dried blood on his skin with his hand, "I thought you would treat those people more brutally."
"Why would you think that? We are civilized people, aren't we?" Lynch quizzically returned the handgun to the Senior Soldier, complimenting his weapon in the process, "Your handgun is great, able to fire many rounds without needing to change the magazine."
The Senior Soldier grinned but did not answer.
In the army, limited modifications to your firearms are allowed, such as increasing the capacity of drum mags and magazines, which are the most common.
Some people specifically increase the capacity of handgun magazines because, at this time, once a war escalates to the point where handguns are needed, there's hardly any chance to change the magazine again.
Federation soldiers, who never participated in any wars during World Wars, although never having gone to the front line, were well-prepared. The Senior Soldier modified his handgun's magazine. It was said another Soldier invented a large drum magazine and even obtained a patent, currently working at a military industrial company on development projects.
Small modifications are normal; there's nothing special about it.
After returning the gun to the Senior Soldier, Lynch turned to look at Nell, "Killing them would be useless. It would only make locals hate you more, resent you, and you might encounter life-threatening dangers at any time, and you'll gain nothing."
He made it clear that in the current situation, killing these people was nothing more than a matter of a few dozen dollars, just the cost of the bullets.
He wouldn't need to spend an extra cent on follow-up actions for those he ordered killed. The Provincial Governor and others would settle this storm for him.
Things could be done, but as the saying goes, it's unnecessary.
Nell sighed, "Just let them off like that?" he hummed through gritted teeth, "They broke our gate, our house, robbed us, and even cracked my head, and we're letting them off just like that?"
Lynch glanced up and down at Nell, making him feel a bit uneasy, "See, you had your chance to let off steam earlier and didn't. Now you feel uneasy..."
He started to laugh as he said it. As his laughter gradually stopped, a playful expression appeared on his face, "Don't worry, Nell, this matter won't end just like that. I'm a fair person, remember? I will give them a fair outcome…"
Lynch shook his head, "Anyway, as long as you know."
"Can you talk about it?", Nell scooted closer to Lynch, "Just me knowing?"
Lynch remained silent, still glaring at him, with a face full of shock, "Don't you trust me?"
...
Lynch's actions ultimately weren't wasted. When they witnessed these foreigners wantonly shooting their compatriots, some people's hearts couldn't withstand such fear.
In their eyes, the seemingly powerful Director of the Police Station appeared like a rabbit that had been neutered, standing with legs tightly closed beside Lynch. Once the Director of the Police Station became serious, those who stole wouldn't be able to escape.
This is also a problem that exists in a closed society; you can't get out, nor can you get in.
Compared to adults who have better psychological resilience, some young people with some understanding yet only a vague grasp of the world are more prone to fear.
They know some of society's cruelty, but not completely, and have only a half-understood grasp of the rules and operational mechanisms of society. This seemingly understood but not fully grasped perception makes them instinctively feel fear.
Not long after Lynch left, a young man, seemingly seventeen or eighteen years old, walked into the camp carrying a torn bag filled with bottles and jars.
He casually placed the items somewhere — he didn't even throw them, but gently placed them down, then turned around to leave.
At this moment, someone called out to him.
"Mister?", the young man turned around timidly, looking at a foreigner in his forties, somewhat balding, with fear hidden in his eyes, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stolen the things here."
"It's okay, your honesty has redeemed you. Mr. Lynch knew someone would bravely take the first step. You're a remarkable person, so you've gained an opportunity."
"He asked me to ask you a question, would you like to work for him?"
The young man froze for a few seconds, then nodded frantically, "Yes, sir, yes, sir, I'd be honored to serve Mr. Lynch. What does he need me to do for him?"
"I can do anything!", he puffed out his thin chest, "I run fast, many people can't catch up with me."
He boasted of his strengths, and the assistant manager's gaze unintentionally swept over the bag of items stolen by the young man, "A job, maybe some manual labor, or even work abroad."
"Mr. Lynch has businesses...all over the world. We need some reliable, honest people, and you fit this characteristic..."
When the young man muddle-headedly walked out of the camp, he couldn't have imagined that fate had played such a huge joke on him!
He merely returned the things he stole, and Mr. Lynch was going to offer him a job, possibly even an overseas position!
Everyone knows how good these foreigners' benefits are, Asir had announced the recruitment policy a few days ago; the salary of nearly two hundred Galils (one dollar and fifty Federation Sols) left many people very excited!
Moreover, they promised a free lunch and some labor protection supplies, these conditions were too attractive!
Everyone wants to become Mr. Lynch's employee, wearing smart work attire entering and exiting clean and tidy factory gates, but opportunities can't possibly fall into the hands of everyone who needs them.
He participated in the recruitment but failed; the recruiters said he was too thin and not eligible.
Unexpectedly, a lost hope finds a turning point here!
Not long after he walked out the door, some peers and adults surrounded him, asking him what had been discussed inside with the assistant manager.
They were outside watching, eager to know what Lynch would do, anxious to know what the young man discussed with the people inside.
The young man was honest; he shared what he knew with others, including the other party's promise, his adherence to "Mr. Lynch's rules" earned Mr. Lynch's approval.
He will become Mr. Lynch's employee!
This immediately ignited people's enthusiasm for returning "stolen goods", as even valuable scrap metal cannot compare to a real job in a foreign-owned enterprise!
The second person appeared, carrying a phonograph into the camp, and soon emerged with a look of surprise, laughing heartily among the others, the meaning naturally self-evident.
In less than a day, not only were the missing items from the camp recovered, but there was also a large pile of odds and ends...
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