Sara had been very honest the whole way, so honest that Jimmy even thought he had nabbed the wrong person. With the irritable characters from New York under Azte's charge, who were explosive at the slightest spark, how could this person from Dallas remain so calm?

As they stopped next to the woods, Sara's expression finally changed; he walked into the woods with a very ugly look on his face, and now, with a revolver pressed against his head, he completely broke down in tears.

They all came from the same streets; who didn't know what coming to this kind of place meant?

Seeing Jimmy's skilled handling of the revolver, emptying the chamber of bullets, this was no beginner's luck. The game of Russian roulette, how could a native Texan like him not know about it!

With trembling lips, Sara forcefully remained silent. Jimmy didn't indulge him, pulling the trigger first, "click," "You still have four chances to talk."

From the back of the chamber, one could see the position of the bullet; now the bullet was directly underneath, meaning only three chances left. However, Jimmy wouldn't shoot; in the game of roulette, surviving three rounds was already manly enough. If he still didn't talk, Jimmy would have to change tactics.

"A tough guy, Sara, looks like you don't want to talk." "Click" Jimmy pulled the trigger again, and the chamber rotated one more position.

Sara shuddered violently; this was no toy. He glanced upwards at the shiny barrel, the grooves inside the bore visible.

"10 seconds." Jimmy reached into his trouser pocket with his left hand, pulled out a cigarette pack, flicked it open with one hand, took out a cigarette, and put it in his mouth, "5 seconds." He put the cigarette pack back, and took out a lighter from his pocket, "3" "2."

"Snap" Jimmy pressed the lighter, and Sara shuddered again as Jimmy lit his cigarette and put the lighter away.

"1" "Click" The third chamber was still empty.

"Stop! I give up! Stop!" Sara had already been frightened by the snap of the lighter, followed closely by the click of the revolver, and he completely broke down, crying out in his plea.

Jimmy put the revolver away, took a step back, "Speak. What do you know about Tim Spark? And where is Bob now?"

Jimmy sniffed, noting that although Sara had been tough before, the scare from the lighter and revolver had left his pants a bit damp.

Sara raised his hands, which had been zip-tied by Jimmy since he got into the car - otherwise, Jimmy wouldn't have felt secure driving. "Could I have a cigarette?"

Jimmy pulled out a cigarette from the pack, handed one to Sara, threw him the lighter to light it himself, then took the lighter back, "Now you can speak."

Sara took a couple of hard drags, cigarette clenched at the corner of his mouth: "Who exactly are you?" He knew very well, there were no Chinese gangs in Dallas, one could even say there were none in Texas; Jimmy's style was surely not official, could it be the Chinese gangs from California trying to move in?

Jimmy: "You don't need to know, just give me the answers." Jimmy opened the revolver chamber, spun it again and closed it.

Sara: "Are you guys trying to take over? This place doesn't have room for Asians, there aren't many Asians in the city, what right do you have to come over!"

Jimmy raised the revolver: "No more nonsense, the answer." "Click"

Sara clammed up, took another puff, and exhaled. "I don't know Tim Spark. Bob's at Aim Street, Victoria Café."

Jimmy: "Who's the boss in Dallas?"

Sara: "I don't know, I'm just a street thug."

Jimmy: "Do you take me for a fool? You think I came to you without any investigation?"

Jimmy aimed the gun at the ground and pulled the trigger; this time, it wasn't "click," but a "bang" as the bullet shot out and hit the ground next to Sara. Sara cried out, the cigarette dropping from his lips to his pants; he hurriedly brushed it off onto the ground.

Sara became a bit hysterical, "Fxxk, you're a madman!"

Jimmy had already opened the chamber, ejected the empty case, and loaded another bullet before snapping the chamber shut. "Next time, I won't move the gun away."

Sara, muttering under his breath, eventually quieted down. He picked up the cigarette butt from the ground, wiped a bit of the dirt off, took another couple of drags, leaving only the butt, which he spat out onto the ground.

Sara: "You madman, stop shooting. Bob handles things on this side; he's on Aim Street, Negra Restaurant, a Mexican place."

Jimmy: "Where's the merchandise?"

Sara: "I don't know, I just take stuff from Bob and distribute it."

Jimmy: "Liar!" Jimmy fired at Sara again, of course, it was still a blank, "click."

Sara: "No, no! I'm not lying, I've still got a bit of stuff at Victoria Café in the kitchen, inside the cupboard. That's it; I really don't know any more."

Jimmy nodded, opened the revolver's chamber, loaded the remaining five bullets, then put it back in the holster, "You're a smart man, I think I don't need to say more."

Sara: "I understand; I've never seen you before, I've been asleep since I got home yesterday."

Jimmy: "Find your own way back."

Jimmy walked over, picked up the cigarette butt Sara had spat out from the ground, extinguished it, and then turned to walk away from the woods.

As Jimmy drove away, he called Torsten, "Torsten, do you have any information on Bob?"

Torsten: "When do you need it?"

Jimmy: "I'll be at your building in half an hour."

Torsten: "OK, I'll wait for you."

In the DEA office parking lot, Jimmy saw Torsten waiting; Jimmy pulled up beside him, and Torsten opened the passenger door and got in.

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