In a world dominated by cowboys, many seek to conquer and amass power, trust, and fame. To achieve this, they kill, enslave, and steal without remorse. Here, power reigns supreme, and they will stop at nothing to seize it. That's why I'm determined to defeat the greatest gunslinger, John Hardin, and claim that title for myself. By doing so, I can save people, put an end to slavery, and bring peace.

"Hey kid, your speech is impressive, but it's not as easy as you think," said the old man.

"I know, old man. It's not easy, but it's not impossible, right?"

"You're a delusional young man. Pay your bill and get out of my bar. I've got things to do," the bartender replied, turning away slightly.

"Hey, don't underestimate me, you old punk!"

Outside the bar, chaos erupted as people screamed and fled from the right side of the town.

"Oh no, that's them," the bartender said, his expression turning to shock.

"Who, old man?"

"The Peter brothers."

"Peter?"

"There are three brothers in the United Cowboy Gang who come here every month to rob the citizens."

"Oh, I see. Why hasn't the police done anything about them?"

"The police don't care about the townspeople. They just take a cut of the money from the Peter gang, so they stay out of it."

"Hey, old man," a stranger said, catching the bartender's attention.

"If I take them down, your people will be free, right?"

The bartender was stunned. "What are you saying, kid? Do you have a death wish?"

Ignoring the warning, the boy rose from his chair and headed for the door.

"Wait, kid! You don't understand. They're evil, and they won't show you any mercy."

The boy smiled and replied, "Neither will I."

He moved toward the side of the street where the Peter brothers were robbing people, instilling fear and despair. Many citizens scrambled to hide their money and gold.

As he approached, concern washed over him for their safety.

Meanwhile, the Peter gang continued their rampage.

"Hey, give me that money, you b*tch!" a man shouted, snatching a bag from a woman who refused to relinquish it.

"Please, sir, this money is the result of my hard work. I beg you," she pleaded, reaching out to touch his leg.

"Don't touch me, you wh*re!" He shot her hand.

She screamed in agony while onlookers could only watch in horror.

"Because of you, my boots are now dirty with your blood," he said, pressing his boot down on her wounded hand.

Her scream pierced the air as she writhed in pain.

"Hey, boss," one of the henchmen called out.

"Someone's approaching us."

"Who the hell is it? The police?"

"No, he is—"

Suddenly, he was shot in the hand.

Everyone froze, shocked by the sudden gunfire.

The boy rode his black horse, balancing expertly as he shot at the gang members, aiming for their hands.

He wore a black coat over a leather shirt and stylish boots.

In a swift motion, he leaped off his horse, kicking the gang's boss in the chest.

"So, you're the infamous Peter, huh?"

Continue....