Chapter Thirty-Seven: Saved Twice

  The forest is vast, with all kinds of birds, and among the refugees, there are also fish and dragons mixed together.

  That year, a major earthquake occurred, and the whole country was shocked. People from all over donated money and goods, and some even went to rescue on their own initiative. However, there were also people who took advantage of the earthquake to loot property, gold shops, jewelry stores, and even banks, daring to rob them, making a fortune from the national disaster, completely despicable and contemptible.

  Among these refugees, there are also lawless elements, and this robber is no exception.

  Muhammad happened to be passing by when he saw this phenomenon, the guy who robbed the bag was right in front of him, without hesitation, Muhammad immediately blocked him.

  "Get out of the way." The man said, swinging his curved knife that gleamed with a cold light.

  Seeing that Muhammad did not intend to give way, his knife immediately stabbed towards Muhammad's chest, this action was not delayed at all.

  Muhammad stared at the curved knife, his left hand shot out and grabbed the opponent's wrist holding the knife, then lifted it up, followed by his right knee coming up and heavily hitting the opponent's chest.

  "Bang." The curved knife fell to the ground, and the robber collapsed to the ground, curled up.

  Muhammad's hands were heavy, and with one move, he made his opponent lose the ability to fight. Looking at the guy's arched body, Muhammad couldn't help but kick him heavily in the back.

  "Crack." Accompanied by a clear sound, this guy's rib was kicked and broken, and he let out a loud cry of pain.

  Around him, several refugees gathered, watching this guy being beaten up, all with a happy face.

  "Despicable! He bullied people in the refugee camp!"

  "Yes, he was still stealing things in the middle of the night!"

  "Beat him!" The refugees surrounded him more and more, several people couldn't help but come up to this guy and punch and kick him.

  Muhammad stepped back from the crowd, holding his bag and watching as the limping girl slowly made her way over.

  At this time, when Western liberalism was prevalent, Pakistan's native discipline was not strict, and girls dressing like this was also very common.

  "Thank you for your help." The girl said to Muhammad with a charming smile on her face.

  "You're welcome," Muhammad said, and as soon as he finished speaking, he saw the girl's smile freeze and turn painful: "Ah yo."

  My feet hurt again.

  "Come, sit down." Muhammad said to the girl, watching her sit on the steps by the roadside. Muhammad bent down and rubbed her ankle with both hands for a few times, saying: "Look over there, that guy was taken away by the police."

  The girl's head turned around and just saw those two policemen, feeling a sharp pain under her feet.

  "Alright," Muhammad said: "The dislocation of the foot bone has been corrected, but the swelling on the surface will take a few days to subside."

  Muhammad had just diverted the girl's attention and with a strong grip of both hands, helped her restore her ankle to its original shape.

  The girl stood up and walked again. It didn't hurt as much as before, so she couldn't help but ask Muhammad: "Thank you, sir. What's your name?"

  "Muhammad." Muhammad said: "The bus is coming, are you going to get on the bus?"

  The girl limped and hobbled onto the bus, Muhammad watched as the girl's silhouette disappeared from the window, continuing to walk forward, until he reached Peshawar, which was like going home, first go take a good nap!

  When Muhammad woke up again, it was already evening.

  Although very close to Afghanistan, there are currently no incidents of Soviet air force crossing the border, and Peshawar has not implemented air defense control, with dim lights still on the streets.

  In the distance, a mosque with pointed roofs, the wind blowing over the roof, making a low humming sound.

  Muhammad walked out of the guest house without receiving any instructions from the Chief of Staff, probably because the Americans had not responded. As Muhammad walked, he thought about what to do next.

  Someone has to introduce you; otherwise, the CIA won't take the initiative to contact you, and the Chief of Staff won't let you meet Americans directly. What should I do?

  Muhammad thought as he walked, and when he looked up, he saw a corner of the street with bright lights, where several large English words shone brightly.

  A bar? This bar must be new. In Peshawar, or in all of Pakistan, there basically aren't any bars.

  Pakistan is a dry country, the formal ban on alcohol started in 1977 and has only been gone for four or five years now. Many people are nostalgic for the days when they could drink, but Muslims are absolutely not allowed to drink.

  In Pakistan, there are also non-Muslims, especially now in Peshawar, where many foreigners such as Americans and Europeans have come to assist Pakistan in the war in Afghanistan. The arrival of these people has stimulated the development of other industries, such as this bar in front of us which only serves foreigners and is a good business.

  Muhammad watched as several Americans went in and out, and suddenly had an idea. He simply went inside to try his luck, saying that he might even meet CIA people and contact them directly!

  Thinking of this, Muhammad took big strides and walked towards the inside.

  "Sorry, you can't go in." Muhammad was stopped by two doormen at the entrance.

  The big beard, high nose bridge, and the turban on his head made Muhammad's Muslim characteristics too obvious. This bar was in a cutthroat industry, strictly following Pakistani law.

  Muhammad could only retreat, he wanted to find a place to turn around and go in, just after retreating a few steps, he heard a hurried footsteps inside.

  "James, I can't drink anymore." The woman's voice was loud.

  "Ayesha, if you drink this cup, I'll give you an extra ten dollars." Another voice.

  At the sound of this, the woman stopped in her tracks, and then heard the sound of beer being poured into a mouth.

  "Alright, these tips are all yours, Daniyah, and if you're willing to spend the night with me, you'll get even more." James' voice continued to echo in Muhammad's ears.

  "No." The woman's voice was trembling, and Muhammad heard the sound of clothes being torn.

  Damn it! Muhammad finally couldn't bear it anymore, took big strides and rushed into the bar.

  "You can't go in." The attendant at the entrance tried to stop him, but Muhammad waved his arm and pushed aside the blocking arm, rushing inside.

  Within a few steps, Muhammad saw four or five Americans surrounding a girl who was covering her chest with her hands, her bra had broken and her breasts were partially visible.

  The girl had drunk quite a bit and her eyes were somewhat dazed. When she saw Muhammad, her eyes instantly filled with a plea for help.

  It was the girl from daytime, when she took the bus, Muhammad thought she was just an ordinary office worker, who would have thought that at night she became a bar girl.

  When Muhammad saw Aisha's eyes, he knew that this busy was something he had to help with no matter what. Drinking together was one thing, but this was another matter altogether, especially since Aisha didn't even want to.

  "Hey, brother, this isn't America, Pakistani girls don't just sleep with foreigners," Muhammad said.

  Upon hearing Muhammad's words, several Americans who were surrounding Aisha turned towards Muhammad.

  "Fuck! How did you get in? Do you know the rules here?" James said, picking up a beer bottle.

  Aisha's feet were still a bit twisted, too much alcohol made her head dizzy, she only knew that Muhammad came to save her, she ran towards Muhammad and hid behind Muhammad's body.

  These Americans look very tall, but the fighting experience is just this kind of street-fighting way. Muhammad watched James come over with a beer bottle, standing quietly there.

  Just as James raised the beer bottle and slammed it towards Muhammad's head, Muhammad suddenly dodged, grabbed James' arm with both hands, and using the strength of his wrists and waist, exerted a sudden force.

  Crack! A crisp sound came, and James' arm fell down.

  Muhammad had no intention of killing, after all, he needed the help of Americans. Logically, he should not have conflicts with these Americans. Now that conflict is unavoidable, Muhammad is also trying his best to control the scale of the conflict. He just removed the opponent's arm from his shoulder. If it were on a real battlefield, Muhammad would have broken the opponent's arm and then turned behind the opponent and snapped his neck.

  The beer bottle in his hand fell to the ground, and with just one move, James was subdued.

  Another American rushed towards Muhammad with a sharp military knife in his hand.

  Muhammad kicked the ground with both feet, jumped up, and flew out with one foot, kicking his opponent's wrist. The military knife fell to the ground. Then Muhammad fell down, and when his opponent lowered his head to look at the military knife, he clamped his neck with his arm and waist, and pinched hard on the carotid artery.

  In just five seconds, the American's body crashed to the ground, and he had already passed out.

  Muhammad easily knocked down the two men, and the rest of the Americans didn't dare to come up again. They were all relying on their drunkenness, and having been away from America for too long, they couldn't hold back what was in their pants. However, the person in front of them was too good at fighting, so after weighing it, they decided not to go up.

  Aisha looked at Muhammad, her eyes revealing affection. She hesitated for a moment, then took Muhammad's arm, wanting to leave with him together.

  "You've injured two people here, and you think you can just walk away that easily?" Just then, a voice sounded from behind.