The forest is big and there are all kinds of birds, and there are also good and bad people among the refugees.
That year, a great earthquake occurred, and the whole country was shocked. People from all over the country donated money and materials, and some people even went to rescue on their own initiative. However, some people took advantage of the earthquake to rob property, including gold shops, jewelry stores, and even banks, and made money from the national disaster. They were complete scum and villains.
There are also criminals among these refugees, and the guy who is robbing now is not a good guy.
Muhammad happened to pass by. When he saw this, the guy who snatched the bag was right in front of him. Without hesitation, Muhammad immediately blocked him.
"Get out of the way." The man said as he swung the scimitar in his hand that was shining with a cold light.
Seeing that Muhammad had no intention of moving aside, he immediately stabbed his knife towards Muhammad's chest without any delay.
Muhammad stared at the scimitar, and used his left hand to grab the opponent's wrist holding the knife, then lifted it up. Then, he raised his right knee and hit the opponent's chest hard.
"Bang." The machete fell to the ground and the robber fell to the ground, curled up.
Muhammad's attack was very heavy, which immediately made the opponent lose his fighting ability. Looking at the guy's hunched body, Muhammad couldn't help but kicked him hard on the back.
"Crack." With a clear sound, the guy's ribs on his back were broken and he screamed loudly in pain.
Several refugees gathered around and looked happy when they saw this guy being beaten.
"He deserves to be beaten! He bullies people in the refugee camp!"
"Yes, he still steals things in the middle of the night!"
"Beat him!" More and more refugees gathered around, and a few of them couldn't help it, so they came up and punched and kicked this guy again.
Muhammad stepped out of the crowd, holding his bag, and looked at the limping girl who was slowly walking towards him.
This era was when Western liberalism was prevalent, and Pakistan's discipline was not strict, so it was very common for girls to dress like this.
"Thank you for your help." The girl said to Muhammad with a charming smile on her face.
"You're welcome." Muhammad said. Just as he finished speaking, he saw the smile on the girl's face freeze and turn painful: "Ouch."
My feet are hurting again.
"Come, sit down." Muhammad said to the girl. Seeing the girl sitting on the steps by the roadside, Muhammad bent down, touched her ankle with both hands, rubbed it a few times, and said, "Look over there, that guy was taken away by the police."
The girl turned her head and just as she saw the two policemen, she felt a sudden pain under her feet.
"Okay." Muhammad said, "The dislocation of your foot bones has been corrected, but the swelling on the surface will take a few days to go away."
Just now, Muhammad only diverted the girl's attention. With the help of his hands, he helped her restore her foot bones to their original state.
The girl stood up and walked again. It was indeed not as painful as before. She couldn't help but said to Muhammad: "Thank you, sir. What is your name?"
"Mhammad."Mhammad said, "The bus is coming, do you want to get on the bus?"
The girl limped onto the bus. Muhammad watched the girl's back as she left the bus window and continued walking forward. When he arrived in Peshawar, he would go home and have a good sleep first!
When Muhammad woke up again, it was already night.
Although it is very close to Afghanistan, there are no incidents of the Soviet Air Force crossing the border. Peshawar does not have air defense control and the streets are still dimly lit.
The mosque in the distance had a pointed roof, and the wind blew on the roof, making a humming sound.
Muhammad walked out of the guest house without receiving the order from the chief of staff. It was very likely that the Americans did not agree. Muhammad walked while thinking about what to do.
I need someone to introduce me, otherwise the CIA will not contact me actively, and the chief of staff will not let me meet with the Americans directly. What method should I think of?
Muhammad was thinking as he walked, and when he looked up, he saw a brightly lit corner of the street with several large English words shining brightly.
Bar? This bar must be new, right? There are no bars in Peshawar, or in Pakistan.
Pakistan is a country where alcohol is prohibited. The official prohibition on alcohol began in 1977, and only four or five years have passed. Many people miss the days when they had alcohol to drink. However, Muslims are absolutely not allowed to drink alcohol.
In Pakistan, there are also non-Muslims, especially now in Peshawar, there are many foreigners, such as Americans and Europeans, who assist Pakistan in the war in Afghanistan, and the arrival of these people has stimulated the development of other industries, such as the bar in front of us, which only entertains foreigners and is also a good business.
Muhammad looked at several Americans coming in and out, and immediately he had an idea. He might as well try his luck inside. Maybe he could meet someone from the CIA and contact them directly!
Thinking of this, Muhammad took big steps and walked inside.
"Sorry, you can't go in." When Muhammad reached the door, he was stopped by two doormen.
With a big beard, a high nose bridge and a towel wrapped around his head, Muhammad's Muslim features are too obvious. This bar is an industry on the edge of a knife and strictly abides by Pakistani laws.
Muhammad had no choice but to retreat. He wanted to find a place to crawl in. Just as he took a few steps back, he heard hurried footsteps from inside.
"James, I can't drink anymore." The woman's voice was loud.
"Ayesha, if you drink this, I'll give you an extra ten dollars." Another voice said.
Hearing this sound, the woman stopped, and then heard the sound of beer being poured into her mouth.
"Okay, these tips are all yours, Daniha. If you are willing to spend the night with me, you will get more." James' voice continued to appear in Muhammad's ears.
"No." The woman's voice trembled, and Muhammad heard the sound of clothes being torn.
Damn it! Muhammad finally couldn't bear it anymore and rushed into the bar.
"You can't go in." The waiter at the door tried to stop him, but Muhammad waved his arm, pushed away the blocking arm, and rushed in.
After a few steps, Muhammad saw four or five Americans surrounding a girl. The girl was covering her chest with her hands. Her suspenders were broken, revealing her breasts.
The girl had drunk a lot and her eyes were a little blurry. When she saw Muhammad, her eyes were immediately filled with a plea for help.
It was the girl from the daytime. When the girl got on the bus, Muhammad thought she was just an ordinary employee. Who would have thought that she became a hostess at night.
When he saw Aisha's eyes, Muhammad knew that he had to help her no matter what. Drinking with her was one thing, sleeping with her was another, not to mention that Aisha was unwilling.
"Hey, brother, this is not America. Pakistani girls will not sleep with foreigners casually," said Muhammad.
Hearing Muhammad's words, the Americans who were surrounding Aisha turned to Muhammad.
"FUCK! How did you get in? Do you know the rules here?" James said as he picked up the beer bottle.
Aisha's foot was still a little twisted, and too much alcohol made her head a little dizzy. She only knew that Muhammad was here to save her, so she ran towards Muhammad and hid behind his body.
These Americans looked very tall, but they had little experience in fighting, which was similar to the way thugs fight. Muhammad looked at James who came over with a beer bottle and stood there quietly.
Just as James raised the beer bottle and smashed it towards Muhammad's head, Muhammad suddenly dodged, grabbed James' arm with both hands, and exerted force with the strength of his wrist and waist.
With a crisp sound, James' arm drooped down.
Muhammad had no intention of killing. After all, he needed the help of the Americans. Logically, he should not have a conflict with these Americans. Now that the conflict was inevitable, Muhammad was trying his best to control the scale of the conflict. He just removed the opponent's arm from the shoulder. If it was on a real battlefield, Muhammad would have broken the opponent's arm, then turned behind the opponent and broke his neck.
The beer bottle in his hand fell to the ground. With just one move, he subdued James.
Another American rushed towards Muhammad, holding a sharp saber in his hand.
Muhammad pushed the ground with both feet, jumped up, and kicked the opponent's wrist. The saber fell to the ground. Then, Muhammad fell down, and when the opponent lowered his head to look at the saber, he clamped the opponent's neck with his arms and waist, and clamped the aorta hard.
In just five seconds, the American's body fell to the ground with a bang and he had fainted.
Muhammad knocked down the two men easily. The rest of the Americans dared not come up anymore. They were all drunk and had been away from the United States for too long, so they could no longer hold back the things in their crotches. However, the man in front of them was too good a fighter, so after weighing the pros and cons, they decided not to go up.
Aisha looked at Muhammad with admiration in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment, but still took Muhammad's arm and wanted to leave with him.
"You injured two people here. Do you want to get away so easily?" At this moment, a voice sounded from behind.