《The Mafia Empire》


 Chapter 1: Chapter 1 A Dream Awakened

    Julian Kesma was the third boy in the Kesma family. Above him were two older brothers and an older sister, and below him were three younger brothers and two younger sisters. It could be said that, by Julian''s geration, the Kesma family was quite prosperous.


    However, unfortunately, the Kesma name wasn''t one of prestige or deep-rooted backg. The so-called "family" was merely a good-natured joke made by the villagers, directed at Mr. Kesma, a farmer, simply because he had so many childr.


    Yes, Julian was merely a farmer''s son. Every day, he had to complete backbreaking labor just to joy a tiny bit of free time after dinner.


    If nothing unexpected happed, Julian would likely, at the age of twty, offer a dowry of a mule or two to marry a woman from the countryside¡ªone with a face full of freckles and hands as rough as his own, a woman who could match his skill in farm work.


    Afterward, his father would drive him out of the house, and with the help of his siblings, Julian would build a small wood cabin as close to home as possible. Th, just like his farmer father, he would live his life.


    By day, he would expand the farmland as much as possible, taking care of crops that wer''t particularly hard to manage. By night, he would focus his efforts on his wife''s belly, hoping to have ough childr to evtually light his load.


    Nearly all farmers lived such unevtful lives. There might be a brief glimmer of excitemt in their simple lives, but it was like a fleeting sparkle in the sunlight¡ªhardly noticeable.


    But this only happed wh nothing wt wrong, and our story begins wh a small unexpected evt happs to Julian!


    "Oh my Lord! How did this happ?" Mrs. Kesma covered her mouth, staring in disbelief as her eldest and second sons dragged an unconscious Julian from the wagon.


    Clearly, his head was injured, with a dried bloodstain on his forehead. If he hadn''t knocked his head on a stone after drinking his father''s wine, perhaps it was another misadvture like raiding a bird''s nest.


    In a place far from the city, there wasn''t much in the way of tertainmt, except for the time after dark. Most young m filled their free time with drinking, gambling, or sneaking peeks at girls. If possible, they might also try to find some wild game to treat their meager appetites.


    Mason, the eldest son, wiped the sweat from his brow with his rolled-up sleeve and gave a bitter smile as he explained. Simply put, after finishing their work, the three brothers had sneaked off to laze a on the haystacks. A stone, from who knows where, hit Julian on the forehead, and he had be unconscious since.


    Tears welled up in Mrs. Kesma''s eyes as she walked over to Julian, gtly smoothing his hair. Her rough hand stroked his still-youthful face. "My poor Julian..." Wh she looked up again, her gaze became fierce. "Do you know who threw the stone?"


    In the countryside, if a woman had a "lady-like" demeanor, she probably wouldn''t live past thirty, succumbing to a quiet despair. Never underestimate the destructive power of country folk. The constant hard labor gave them sharp tongues and a wild nature far beyond what they seemed capable of.


    Brawls¡ªmore so than mere shouting matches¡ªwere the real tertainmt here, oft erupting over trivial matters.


    Mason scratched his head awkwardly. He hadn''t se who threw it.


    Mrs. Kesma called him useless before instructing the brothers to carry Julian back to his squeaky bed. ??¨N?§®¦Ñ??.???


    They didn''t call a priest or a doctor¡ªnot because they couldn''t afford it, but because they had to wait. If Julian didn''t wake up in a day or two, they would invite the town''s only priest or the toothless doctor to examine him.


    City folks might see this as neglect or worse, but in the countryside, this was the only ssible way.


    Unless absolutely necessary, not a single coin would be spt!


    While unconscious, Julian had a dream¡ªa complex one, full of strange and wonderful things, an indescribable journey. Wh something called a bullet pierced the dreamer, he awoke.


    And his first words upon waking stirred waves in the family''s long-standing peace.


    "I''m going to the city!"


    Mr. Kesma sat cross-legged on a hard wood chair, smoking a cigarette until it burned out. He flicked the last bit to the floor and crushed it with his foot. Wh he looked up again, the family members all sat with slightly bowed heads, their expressions serious and respectful.


    Mr. Kesma was the true ruler of this household. Without him, of them would be here. In the ignorance of the countryside, his authority was higher than the law or the church.


    "You... want to go to the city?" Mr. Kesma tried to soft his tone, though he thought it was the most foolish idea. The city wasn''t a place anyone could go. If the countryside was a peaceful nest, the city was hell¡ªa d of devils. Every second there was tormt.


    Ev breathing seemed to cost money.


    No money?


    Th you''d d up a beggar, hoping for a kind soul''s charity. Worse yet, someone might snatch you up to work in the northern mines. Strong young m like Julian were exactly what the mine owners looked for.


    Facing his father''s question, Julian nodded seriously. "Yes, Father. I''m going to the city. I can''t waste my life away here. Life is precious, and if it doesn''t shine brilliantly, living isn''t any better than dying."


    "You can''t ev read! Once you get to the city, you''ll be like a blind man with op eyes. You won''t be able to read street signs, newspapers, or ev job postings!"


    Ev though Mr. Kesma tried to discourage him, Julian had already made up his mind. He couldn''t stay here and rot like a walking corpse. He needed to create a life for himself. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Just like that poor soul in his dream¡ªev if it meant losing everything, ev if it ded with a bullet, Julian would let his brilliance shine.

 Chapter 2: Chapter 2 Breaking Free And Journey To The Unknown

    "If a life is mediocre, it is better to die!"


    "I will learn, Father. I know you have your wisdom, but I want to leave here and vture out. I can repair shoes, and I can fix umbrellas. These are skills that can sustain me in the city. I can dure hardship, Father. I won''t ask for pay¡ªjust a place to live.


    I believe someone will hire a fool like me."


    Every week, a cart would pass through this place called Clover Town, but to board it, one needed money.


    In the Kesma family, aside from Mr. Kesma, no one had much money¡ªnot ev Mason, the ninete-year-old eldest son, and certainly not Julian, who came after him.


    "Are you sure you want to leave? Leave me, your mother, and your brothers and sisters?" Mr. Kesma''s tone grew stern. For a part born and raised in the countryside, the hardest thing to bear was a child''s ignorance in rejecting good inttions and defying their will.


    Julian was silt for a momt, th stood up and removed his belt¡ªa strong leather strap covered in a thick layer of grime. He placed it on the table, took off his shirt, and lay down on the floor.


    "If you wish to carry out family discipline, th please do it before I leave!" Julian declared firmly. "Because I''ve made my first, and most important, decision in life¡ªI''m going to the city."


    "Ev if I get hurt or die in the city, it will be on the path I chose. I respect and love you. You gave me life, but I hope that, at least once in my life, I can take control of my own future!"


    In the d, Mr. Kesma didn''t pick up the belt. He smoked two cigarettes in a row, his eyes occasionally drifting toward his childr. Though he wasn''t well-educated or particularly wise, life had giv him the wisdom every human gains over time. Wh one puppy leaves the d, the others will soon want to follow.


    Julian may not have realized it yet, but his decision was changing not just himself, but also his siblings.


    It was a silt night. No one felt like talking, each pondering Julian''s impding departure.


    At dawn, Mr. Kesma sat at the table outside the kitch. Beside him was a small tin box he had once brought back from a trip to the city. It had once be filled with filtered cigarettes, which Mr. Kesma had treasured. Later...


    it seemed that by the next New Year, wh he oped the box, he found the cigarettes were covered in mold.


    ?¡Ì???¦Ñ£¤?.§³¦¨?


    Regrettably, he had laid them out in the sun, hoping to save them, but it proved pointless.


    Since th, the little tin box had become his container for important things, hidd beath the third wood plank under his bed.


    Yes, everyone in the family knew where he hid things, but he still believed no one else did.


    Knowing today would be his last day in this decaying countryside, as he set off to build a future in the big city, Julian hadn''t slept all night. Yet in the morning, he was full of ergy. He wore his light lin suspders and a pale blue canvas shirt¡ªworn thin from many washes¡ªtypical of the countryside. He had cleaned himself up and was filled with hope for the future.


    "Father!"


    Julian greeted his father, and Mr. Kesma motioned for him to sit down. Once Julian sat, his father pushed the cup aside, picked up the small tin box, hesitated for a momt, and finally handed it to Julian. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "There''s twty dollars inside. That should be ough to last you at least three months in the city. After that, you''ll have two choices: either make something of yourself or return here starving." He patted Julian''s shoulder hard and squeezed tightly, causing Julian to wince in pain. "Remember, you''re a son of the Kesma family.


    Whether or not you can ever become like those respectable m, don''t forget you always have a way back."


    "No matter wh, we''ll always welcome you home!"


    Julian could hardly believe the normally stern and serious man, who always seemed so rigid, could say something so emotional. His nose tingled, and he nodded firmly. "I understand. If I ever return, it won''t be because I''ve failed and am coming back in shame. I''ll return with flowers lining the streets and people playing music, welcoming the return of a king!"


    Mr. Kesma chuckled and slapped the back of Julian''s head. "Get going, boy, and stop playing with words."


    Without saying goodbye to the rest of the family, the two of them left the house in silce, walking to the edge of the small town. After waiting for about half an hour, an old, clumsy-looking bus with sixte wheels slowly approached. A few people were already aboard, but most of the seats were still empty.


    As the bus came to a stop, Mr. Kesma suddly pulled Julian into a tight embrace, slapping his back as if trying to etch the momt into his memory. "Go on, go. The fledgling must leave the nest and live on its own. I can''t give you a privileged life, but I won''t stop you from soaring high!"


    Julian took a deep breath, looking at his father''s wrinkled face and the graying hair that had begun to thin. His eyes misted over. Without another word, he boarded the bus, choosing a seat by the window. As the bus rumbled down the bumpy road, Julian watched his father''s reluctant gaze fade into the distance, as he left behind the town that had raised him for sixte years.

 Chapter 3: Chapter 3 Julians First Steps

    Ternell City is located in the southwestern region of the empire. Compared to the bustling southeast coastal area, Ternell City appears less prosperous. However, for those living in Ternell, this place is a paradise compared to the dirt-lad rural areas.


    Julian gazed curiously at the bustling streets. Although he had se cities far more advanced and prosperous in his dreams, those were just dreams¡ªthis was real. He adjusted the patched-up backpack on his shoulder and eagerly looked a the street, planning his next move.


    Learning the language was esstial. The streets were filled with signs and letters he couldn''t recognize, which would limit his future developmt. Next, he needed to find a job that could temporarily support him, not necessarily one that paid well, but at least a job that provided a basic place to stay and two meals a day.


    As he walked the unfamiliar streets of the city, he felt a tinge of fear but, ev more, a sse of hope for the future. He noticed that the sky here seemed bluer than in the countryside, and ev the air felt refreshing.


    "Hey... you, kid over there!"


    Julian turned to the voice. Beside a car, which seemed a bit funny to him but was actually the latest model in this world, a man in a bowler hat beckoned him over.


    "Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" Julian immediately walked over, unsure of why this wealthy-looking man was calling him, but he wasn''t too concerned about being bossed a¡ªeverything here was new and exciting to him.


    The man looked Julian up and down before nodding slightly toward the car. Behind it were a few crates that looked heavy. "Help me carry these up to room 4 on the fourth floor."


    Julian was momtarily stunned, but his face quickly lit up with a smile. He adjusted his backpack and wt over to lift the crates. They were indeed heavy, and as he picked them up, he noticed some liquid sloshing inside. The man seemed surprised by how easily Julian handled them and pointed toward a nearby five-story building, signaling him to hurry up.


    Carrying the heavy crates, Julian made his way to the fourth floor, a bit out of breath. Back in the countryside, he had be one of the main laborers in his household, accustomed to heavy work. Although the crates were heavy, they were nothing he couldn''t handle.


    He found room 4 using the numbers he had learned from coins. After knocking on the door lightly with his foot, the door oped just a crack, and a man with a grim expression peered out through the gap, his eyes cold and eerie.


    "A gtleman downstairs asked me to bring these crates up," Julian explained.


    The door oped a little wider, and the man leaned out, glancing up and down the quiet hallway before fully oping the door. Julian noticed a detail: as the man oped the door, his right hand moved behind his back and th reappeared.


    Looking at the crates in Julian''s arms, the man seemed somewhat surprised. "You''re pretty strong!" He stepped aside, allowing Julian to ter. "Just put the stuff behind the door."


    After following his instructions and placing the crates down, the man rather rudely pushed Julian out of the room and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.


    Staring at the closed wood door, Julian stood there for a momt, th shrugged and made his way downstairs.


    The man downstairs hadn''t left. Wh he saw Julian, he said nothing, simply pulled a one-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to him. Without waiting for Julian to thank him, the man drove off.


    Watching the car disappear down the street, Julian whistled to himself. It seemed making money in the city wasn''t as hard as he thought. Look, he''d already earned a dollar in just over an hour¡ªa sum equal to three days'' wages for an ordinary person.


    People always feel a sse of pride in their first time doing anything, ev if it''s something trivial. As Julian thought about the first dollar he had ever earned through his own labor, he began looking for a place to stay.


    Ideally, he wanted to find a leather workshop, as the profession of a leatherworker would sure he never wt hungry¡ªa saying he had once heard from a drunk wolf pelt buyer in Wild Clover Town. ??¨N¦®????.?¦¨?


    A wolf pelt worth t cts¡ªwild coyotes oft appeared in groups outside Wild Clover Town, attracted by the livestock. These coyotes were the bane of the townspeople. They used traps to kill the coyotes and th sold the pelts to leather merchants who visited once a month.


    According to that leather merchant, these pelts, which could only be sold for t cts, were crafted by leatherworkers into items worth t or ev dozs of dollars!


    Julian figured that if he wanted to improve his life quickly, becoming a leatherworker''s apprtice was the fastest, most straightforward path.


    Of course, he didn''t know that mastering any trade could yield similar results.


    After wandering a the city for a while, Julian''s head was spinning. He had never se such a large city, with so many people, streets, and buildings.


    And of course, there were the cars.


    No more opportunities like the one earlier came his way, and as for finding a leatherworker¡­ he hadn''t had any luck either.


    Using water from a roadside pump, he ate a rock-hard whole wheat loaf of bread, marking his first night spt in the city. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He also expericed, for the first time, something called loneliness. Curled up under a bridge, he evtually fell asleep to the sound of the howling wind.


    Over the course of several days, Julian explored every corner of Ternell City. He found three leather shops, but of the owners were hiring. He shifted his focus to other jobs, like tailoring, carptry, or any other respectable work. Whether it was bad luck or some other reason, no one wanted to hire him. He quickly realized that there was oft an unbridgeable gap betwe dreams and reality.


    Two weeks later, after countless failures, Julian finally found a way to make some money¡ªby washing cars.


    All he needed was a bucket of water, a cheap bar of soap, a dried-out gourd sponge, and a towel, and he could start cleaning cars on the roadside. The total cost of these supplies was less than a dollar, and for each car he washed, he earned at least five or t cts. If he could wash a doz or twty cars a day, he could make a fortune!


    Drawing from experices in his dreams, this was the time to expand, hire people, and create a brand...


    It seemed like a good plan.


    On the eving of his sixteth day in Ternell, Julian walked to the roadside with a bucket of water. He had scouted out the area¡ªacross the street was the Ternell Grand Theater, where every day, wealthy patrons came to joy operas and comedy shows. It was the most profitable spot.


    As dusk fell, Ternell City came alive, waking from its slumber. The city already amazed Julian; he couldn''t imagine what an ev bigger city would look like.


    The honking of a car horn snapped him out of his thoughts. A brand-new Augum car had stopped nearby. A stern-faced man wearing a trch coat and hat stepped out. He glanced at Julian, patted his car, and casually tossed two five-ct coins onto the g before heading up the steps to the theater without a word.


    What an arrogant man! Julian muttered to himself as he picked up his bucket. "If I ever become rich, I won''t be like him."


    Julian shook his head, resolved that if he ever rose to wealth, he would never forget to treat other people with respect.

 Chapter 4: Chapter 4 Julians Encounter with the City’s Underworld

    Julian was a diligt person, and there was no doubt about that. Back in the countryside, working the fields under Mr. Kesma''s supervision, there was no room for slacking. This upbringing instilled in Julian a strong work ethic. It only took him two days for the upper-class patrons of the Ternell Grand Theater to recognize the name Julian, the car washer.


    He made sure every corner of each car was spotless, ev using a sharped wood stick wrapped in a cloth to clean out hidd crevices. Unlike the other roadside car washers who did a hasty, half-hearted job and shamelessly pocketed their fees, Julian took pride in his work.


    Within just two days, Julian had built a reputation, and he was thrilled. His plan was moving forward, and he ev began to consider absorbing other less successful car washers to work for him after a while. Before long, he could rt a storefront along the street and op a dedicated car detailing shop.


    The term "car detailing" was something he had learned in his dreams. It wasn''t just about washing cars but also included maintance and modifications. While Julian didn''t know much about those areas, he knew there were people in Ternell who did, and he only needed to hire them to work for him.


    Unfortunately, Julian''s dream of a "car-washing empire" barely took its first step before it was shattered.


    "That''s the guy! He''s breaking the rules, stealing all our customers!" A dark-skinned, skinny man in a flat cap pointed at Julian, who was busy washing a car at the roadside.


    In this city, there were aspects of life that most ordinary people didn''t understand. We could call it the darker side, or perhaps refer to these people and their world as the underworld. Gangs wer''t unique to Ternell City. Ev in the more prosperous, distant core of the empire, similar phoma existed.


    Just as there is darkness where there is light, everything has two sides. The Empire of Shining Star, still recovering from the wounds of the North-South War, was striving for change. But any significant change that could alter people''s lives oft came with great risks¡ªand great rewards. Some befits were bathed in sunlight, while others thrived in the shadows.


    These gangs didn''t exist to make the city more chaotic. In fact, one might find it laughable, but in many ways, they acted more like the police than the police themselves. They used violce to maintain order in their territories, forcing rules that no one dared to break. In doing so, they made the city somewhat more peaceful, reducing the number of petty criminals who sought quick, easy scores.


    They were like dark viruses, slowly consuming the light.


    Beside the scrawny man stood four sturdy young m. The leader wore a blue-and-red checkered shirt with a short jacket over it and a cream-colored flat cap. He clearly wanted to look respectable, but the twitching muscles on his face made it hard to believe in his appearance of authority.


    This man was known as "Mad Dog Wesson" to those familiar with him in Ternell. In his own bragging stories, he claimed to have single-handedly killed sevte or eighte emies in a street gunfight. His ruthless and wild nature earned him the nickname Mad Dog, and he was quite fond of it.


    Wesson and his three m approached Julian. Julian was in the middle of washing a car, with two more waiting behind it. He was just about to dip his cloth back into the bucket wh a polished brown leather shoe appeared in his line of sight and kicked the bucket over.


    Julian was still unsure what had just happed. Straighting up, he looked at the four m, who had fierce, hostile looks in their eyes. Puzzled, he nodded politely. "Gtlem?" He didn''t understand what they wanted, but he had a sinking feeling that he was in serious trouble.


    Wesson gave Julian a scornful once-over and th glanced at the half-washed car. "Have you paid your ''protection fee''?"


    Protection fee?


    "What''s that?" Julian asked, bewildered. He ssed they were trying to cause trouble, but the term "protection fee" didn''t sound particularly intimidating.


    ???¦®????.?§°?


    Two years ago, the term "protection fee" hadn''t ev existed; back th, it was called "safety fee." It was a mandatory fee collected by the local gangs from everyone operating businesses in their territory.


    Only after paying the safety fee could businesses operate without harassmt, and the gang would offer them "protection." If they didn''t pay, they''d be harassed dlessly until their business couldn''t function. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After an incidt involving a baron who had refused to pay the fee and was attacked by gang members, the Empire took notice. The gang responsible, which was less a gang and more a family-run, quasi-religious organization, managed to settle the matter after a lgthy court battle lasting over 70 days.


    Since th, the term "protection fee" was phased out and replaced by the more neutral-sounding "comfort fee." Though old-fashioned, the term conveyed the meaning quite well.


    Wesson was dumbfounded. How could anyone in Ternell City, or ev in the Empire of Shining Star, not know what a comfort fee was?


    In the next momt, he assumed that Julian was mocking him, and in a surge of anger, he swung his fist!


    In the countryside, how did people resolve disputes? There were no police, and certainly no judges, so fairness was oft determined by who had the strongest fists. Mr. Kesma''s family had be in a few disputes themselves, like over that borderline stone that weighed several doz pounds but was light ough to be blown away by the wind. Fights over land ownership were common in the countryside.


    The Kesma family, being skilled fighters, usually won those disputes.


    Seeing the fist coming his way, Julian instinctively leaned back, narrowly dodging the punch, and th instinctively countered with a punch of his own.


    His punch was precise and powerful, striking Wesson squarely in the jaw from below. Wesson''s head snapped back, saliva flying from his slightly op mouth. His eyes wt dazed as he stumbled back a step, unsteady on his feet.


    Onlookers, both pedestrians and shopkeepers, sighed inwardly. This young man had really gott himself into trouble. Over the past two days, Julian had made a good impression on the local businesses. He always washed the pavemt clean after washing a car, never leaving dirty water behind. If he borrowed water, he would give a pny for it, never taking it for free.


    And if anyone needed a hand with something, Julian would always help if he had time.


    What a good young man, but how could he not realize the trouble he was in?


    With someone like Wesson, you had to talk nicely and carefully appease him. Only by keeping him happy could things remain peaceful. After all, Wesson was a mad dog!


    "Sorry¡­ it was just instinct¡­" Julian apologized as he stepped back, still looking slightly guilty. Wesson hadn''t hit him, but he had landed a solid punch on Wesson. For some reason, this guy didn''t seem nearly as tough as Julian''s sister.


    It took Wesson a while to come to his sses. His face burned¡ªnot from the punch, but from the shame of being watched by others. Gritting his teeth, he shoved away the man who had be helping him and drew a long blade from behind his back, charging at Julian with a yell.


    "Let me teach you what respect is!"

 Chapter 5: Chapter 5 Struggle for Survival

    Julian knows very well that local people td to team up wh fighting outsiders, and as tough as he was from his rural days, he was not an idiot who believed he could overpower so many people.


    Seeing Mad Dog Wesson charging at him with a knife, Julian turned and bolted. He didn''t believe his flesh-and-bone arms and legs could withstand the sharp edge of iron.


    One person ran in front, while a few others chased behind. After about two streets, the people behind were panting, stopping intermitttly, watching as Julian, still running at full speed, disappeared a the corner. They were so frustrated that ev breathing became difficult. After all, they were gang members, not athletes.


    While they might be good at fighting and killing, they were certainly not skilled at running.


    "What''s that... kid''s name again?" Mad Dog Wesson, leaning against a streetlight pole, panted heavily like an exhausted dog, his tongue out and gasping for air. His chest was burning painfully, partly because his rapid breathing had dried out and tighted the membranes in his airways, and partly because he was furious.


    His sidekick, bding over with hands on his knees, also panted out in brok speech, "I think... he''s called... Julian?"


    Wesson felt slightly better after stopping. He slashed his knife at the streetlight pole, sding sparks flying, and barked, "Get our people to find him!" S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Having run a good distance and realizing there were no pursuers, Julian stopped, panting heavily. He felt awful¡ªnot because he was worried about gang retaliation, nor because running was exhausting, but because he had lost a chance that could have led him to success.


    He punched the wall beside him. Those damn gang members were truly despicable.


    At the same time, a question lingered in his mind¡ªwhat exactly was this "Anluo fee"?


    Ever since he arrived in the city, nothing had gone smoothly, except for the dollar he earned on the first day. No one was willing to hire him, there were no ways to make money, and every day he had to hide under a bridge, during the foul smells. The food he ate was the cheapest whole wheat bread, harder than bricks, and hitting it with a stone only left a few marks.


    The water he drank was from street pumps, and he hadn''t had a hot meal in nearly a month.


    After finally finding an opportunity to fulfill his life''s ambitions, it had be ruined by these people.


    Dejected, he turned two streets and headed back to the bridge where he stayed. He needed to quietly think about his future. But as he approached the bridge, he froze.


    The area a the bridge was filled with wild dogs and rats, so after cleaning the area, Julian had used a discarded wood board to make a simple door to block the trance, prevting any rats or dogs from getting in and damaging his backpack or clothes.


    But now... the wood board was cracked, thrown aside, and Julian rushed into the bridge, his heart sinking instantly.


    Everything was gone, including that damned cigarette box. He had hidd it behind a loose brick, but now that brick lay at his feet, and the small metal box was nowhere to be found.


    Not a single thing had gone his way for nearly a month. Sitting on the g with his back against the bridge wall, Julian covered his face with his hands in defeat.


    Why?


    Is this the tormt the God has chos for me?


    For the first time, he had the idea of returning to the countryside and living an ordinary life. But quickly, that thought was consumed by a raging fire within him. Slowly, he lowered his hands, clching them into tight fists, his eyes twitching slightly.


    No, I can''t just go back. This isn''t the God''s tormt, it''s His test! Pushing through this will lead me to a bright path. If I fall here, I''ll remain an insignificant country bumpkin for the rest of my life! The God has giv me precious wealth, how could I let myself sink into despair? Nothing can stop me¡ªnot just a few hardships!


    Come on, let''s fight this battle to the death!


    Julian felt the four five-ct coins in his pocket and turned to leave the bridge. His thoughts were no longer about how to quickly become a refined, upper-class man, but rather how to survive in this city and find the road to his dreams. ???¦®?¦Ñ?§Á.§³??


    "Are you sure?" An elderly man, with graying hair and a gold-rimmed monocle over his left eye, looked up at him from behind lowered brows. The old man was dressed impeccably, his tailored suit and shirt exuding a sse of nobility. Facing the elder''s inquiry, Julian nodded firmly.


    This was the recruitmt office at the steam locomotive station. The steam locomotive was somewhat similar to the trains in Julian''s dreams, as both ran on tracks, though their power sources differed. Trains relied on burning fuel to gerate steam that propelled their heavy cars, while steam locomotives used something called "Brilliance Crystals" as their power source.


    All it took was placing a Brilliance Crystal into a machine''s filling chamber, adding a catalyst, and the crystal would continuously release unimaginable heat and gas.


    At that point, adding some water produced steam. Everything from cars on the road to large machinery on construction sites¡ªall mechanical devices seemed to use Brilliance Crystals as fuel.


    Ternell city might appear to Julian as a bustling metropolis, but for the empire as a whole, it was merely a remote border town, producing little besides food and animal hides.


    Oh, and liquor.


    Though Ternell was just a small town, it didn''t stop "Ternell Station" from being a crucial hub in the empire''s rail transport network. Steam locomotives passed through here daily, unloading large quantities of goods or loading them up before departing.


    Both loading and unloading required manual labor. In the empire''s most prosperous cities, machines had already replaced manpower for such tasks, sparking several protests.


    Of course, in rural areas like this, human labor was still cheaper.


    Hard labor was always the lowest rung of work. Anyone with ev a bit of skill wouldn''t choose to waste so much time and ergy on meager pay.


    So wh Julian applied to be a porter, the station manager needed to confirm things several times.


    "You can call me Kre. Before you start working, you''ll need to sign an agreemt. The agreemt states that you must work at the station for at least six months. If, for any reason, you leave within those six months, you''ll have to pay a fifty-dollar palty," Kre said. "If you meet the six-month requiremt, you''ll receive a two-ct bonus for every hour worked beyond that period."


    "In addition, we''ll provide you with a place to stay and two meals a day. These don''t require extra paymt. If you have no further questions, you can sign here." Kre turned the agreemt toward Julian, tapping the top of the page with his index finger before sliding it forward.


    Julian stared at the agreemt for a long momt before awkwardly saying, "Sorry, I don''t know how to write my name."


    Kre raised an eyebrow but did not mock him. Instead, he nodded slightly. "Don''t feel bad, child. Many who work here can''t write their names either." He flipped the agreemt back toward himself, signed "Julian Kesma" on it, and took out a small red wax box. "Just put your fingerprint here."


    "Though it might seem... impolite to say this, I think you should take the time to learn how to read a newspaper and write your own name while you''re still young. What do you think?"


    After pressing his fingerprint on the agreemt, Julian took two steps back. The closer he got to Mr. Kre, the more he felt his own insignificance. He felt that the nearer he came to that clean, noble-looking red desk, the more insignificant he appeared.


    People are supposed to be equal, but in this room, facing Mr. Kre, Julian felt no sse of equality at all!


    He lowered his head and muttered, "Yes, I plan to look for a school once I''ve earned some money."


    Mr. Kre glanced at the agreemt and pulled out a copy, pushing it to the edge of the desk. "Good. Education elevates a person''s character and understanding. I know of a place that offers classes to older studts for a very reasonable price."


    Just as he was about to d the conversation, something crossed his mind. "Oh, one more thing. After you''ve signed the agreemt, you''re officially a worker at the station. In a few days, union represtatives might come to find you. My advice: don''t take them too seriously. Someone will tell you what to do."


    As Julian left Mr. Kre''s office, he exhaled deeply.


    Since reaching for the stars had prov to be nothing more than a naive and ridiculous fantasy, he would now plant his feet firmly on the g and move forward, step by step.

 Chapter 6: Chapter 6 Graf

    Working at the "dock" was no easy task. Every day, massive amounts of goods had to be loaded or unloaded, and the work oft started before dawn and continued late into the night.


    The pay for this job was low, and the workload incredibly intse, making it difficult to find ough workers. That''s why the contract included a clause stating that leaving before six months would result in a fifty-dollar palty. As for why the contract term was six months instead of a year or more, there was a reason.


    Initially, the high-intsity labor would only leave workers feeling tired, but over time, it would take a serious toll on their bodies.


    With a lack of proper nutrition, no comfortable rest vironmt, and the noise of passing steam locomotives at night, these workers gradually developed various health issues, like bone deformities, commonly referred to as "occupational diseases." From the capitalists'' perspective, these sick workers were no longer capable of handling heavy manual labor.


    Keeping them on, providing food and shelter, was considered a loss. Their only option was to be kicked out.


    However, the situation wasn''t that simple due to the existce of labor unions. To the capitalists, labor unions were something disgusting, making them feel sick to their stomachs. They hated the unions but couldn''t get rid of them, forced to tolerate their presce. Under the protections of both imperial and religious law, they had to navigate through various regulations.


    For instance, occupational diseases were classified as work injuries. The station either had to pay a large sum to sd the workers off or continue supporting them until they turned forty-five.


    By the god above, ev paying workers an extra five cts felt like cutting off a piece of flesh for the capitalists. That''s why the station''s contracts were signed for six-month periods. After the contract expired, workers who wanted to rew it would need to undergo a health check. If they were confirmed to be healthy and free from deformities, they could sign again.


    Those who developed health issues, however, were simply kicked out. Once the contract was fulfilled, the station had no further responsibility for any illnesses or injuries the workers might have developed.


    By that time, the union would have no gs to challge the station.


    Julian, of course, had no idea about any of this. In Mr. Kre''s eyes, Julian was just a naive country boy who would be discarded after six months, left to fd for himself. Education? That school was run by Kre''s daughter. Why not introduce the workers to a bit of education, help them gain some knowledge and manners?


    The next morning, Julian arrived at the station. It was early, and the chill of late summer turning into autumn hung in the air. Rubbing his arms for warmth, he stood at the platform lit by oil lamps, where several workers were already gathering, preparing for the arrival of the first steam locomotive.


    "New here?" A man in his thirties, built like a bear, wearing only a vest, had a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He pulled out another one and offered it to Julian.


    Back in the countryside, Julian and his brothers would sometimes steal cigarettes from Mr. Kesma, each taking a puff for fun. It wasn''t about joying the smoke but more about the thrill. Now, faced with this stranger''s offer, Julian hesitated briefly but accepted it, saying, "Thanks for the cigarette. I''m Julian."


    After lighting Julian''s cigarette, the man flicked the match to the g and stamped it out with a few heavy steps. He took a deep drag, exhaled, and said, "Smoking''s banned at the station. They say in some places, smoking at the station has caused fires that burned up the cargo."


    He extded his hand with a grin, "My name''s Graf. Glad to work with you."


    ???¦®????.???


    Julian shook his hand, immediately feeling a sse of connection. There''s something about simple exchanges and small gestures that can quickly close the gap betwe strangers. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "It''s an honor to meet you, sir," Julian said politely, taking a puff of the cigarette but quickly starting to cough.


    Graf laughed heartily. "Don''t call me ''sir.'' That''s for high society folks. Just call me Graf. So, how''s the cigarette?" He waved it in front of Julian.


    After a long coughing fit, Julian finally managed to catch his breath. He didn''t dare take another puff. "What''s in this thing?"


    Graf grinned, clearly pleased. "Oh, aside from a little tobacco, there''s straw, dried vine gourd, some orange peel, and a pinch of chili powder g fine as flour."


    "Come on, Graf, no one can handle that!" one of the workers nearby called out with a laugh.


    Graf shrugged, unconcerned. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and glanced at them sideways. "This guy can handle it!" He nudged Julian with his elbow.


    In reality, most workers smoked cigarettes like these, adding all kinds of ingredits to stretch the tobacco. They didn''t make ough money to afford real cigarettes, which were considered a luxury. The workers would collect cigarette butts left a the station, empty the remaining tobacco, and save it.


    Rolling pure tobacco might only get them two or three cigarettes from a day''s worth of butts, but adding some filler allowed them to stretch it to a pack.


    Just as the wealthy indulged in their extravagances, those at the bottom of society had their own survival tactics. After many experimts, most workers settled on dried vine gourd and orange peel as the best fillers. As for Graf''s addition of straw and chili powder, that was just his personal quirk.


    Seeing the earnest look in Graf''s eyes and his hopeful expression, Julian forced himself to take another puff. "Not bad! Really good!" he said, coughing again, which made Graf burst into laughter.


    Julian could tell that Graf wasn''t mocking him. He was guinely joying the momt.


    Just th, the distant whistle of a steam locomotive sounded, and the workers started gathering their tools, preparing to unload the cargo.


    Wh the locomotive arrived, Julian realized that a "standard load" didn''t refer to a single package, sack, or box but to an ormous amount of goods. From what he remembered in his dreams, it was about four cubic meters. It made sse. If a single trip earned two cts, the station would be overrun with workers if the loads were any smaller.


    Graf handed Julian a pair of ropes tied at both ds, helping him loop them through his arms and over his shoulders, forming an X on his back. "If you just rely on brute strgth, you''ll wear yourself out after five or six trips. Use these ropes to secure the corners of the box, so you can use your whole body''s strgth. It''s easier on you and won''t hurt your body.


    We''ve got plty of work ahead, brother!"

 Chapter 7: Chapter 7 Blood Oath

    The morning shift was relatively easy since there wer''t many steam locomotives running through the night. It wasn''t until the afternoon that Julian truly felt the exhaustion. Locomotives arrived one after another, and Mr. Kre emerged from his office, shouting orders at the workers and directing them.


    The work kept them busy from just after one o''clock until sev in the eving, wh they finally had a momt to catch their breath.


    Julian sat at the dinner table, his arms trembling, unable to ev make a fist. With shaking hands, he held a piece of bread and sipped the meat soup in front of him.


    Today, he''d earned twelve cts according to the workers. If this pace continued, he could make five dollars and t cts by the d of the month¡ªa dect amount for a newcomer.


    Graf walked over, holding a bowl of meat soup and a few pieces of bread. He sat next to Julian, tearing into the bread with large bites and speaking through a mouthful. "Don''t bathe tonight. Just take off your clothes and sleep. Don''t do anything else, or you won''t be able to move tomorrow."


    Julian trusted the advice of expericed people, and Graf''s suggestion wasn''t unreasonable. Without much thought, Julian decided to follow it and raised a question. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Mr. Kre told me the union people would come to see me in a few days and that I shouldn''t join. Should I?"


    Graf''s face immediately showed a look of disdain. He glanced up at the lit window on the second floor, let out a cold chuckle, and said, "Don''t list to that liar. If we don''t join the union, who''s going to protect the rights of us workers at the bottom? He just wants to take advantage of you. Besides, is the fifty-ct membership fee really that expsive?"


    Julian nodded, finishing his broth. As he dug a the bottom of the bowl, he found a small chunk of meat, savoring it as if it were a delicacy.


    "I understand."


    Julian used to think his family''s full house in the middle of nowhere was the worst living situation possible. Sharing a cramped room with his six brothers, each night they''d collapse into bed after long days working in the fields, so tired that they fell asleep immediately, stale with sweat and the odor of dirty feet.


    But now, as he sat in a tiny, cramped 30-square-meter room with twty other m, Julian realized things could indeed be much worse. The experice was uncomfortable, but the exhaustion from the day''s work made sleep come quickly.


    The next morning, he threw off the blanket and got ready for the day. There was no room for grooming, so he followed the others to the railway platform for another day of labor. The cargo was familiar¡ªmassive crates, all clinking softly with the sound of glass.


    "What''s in these, Graf?" Julian grunted as he heaved another crate onto his shoulder. "Feels like water."


    Graf gave a sly grin. "Water? No, my frid. That''s liquid gold. We''re moving money." Leaning in closer, he whispered, "It''s high-proof alcohol. But don''t go shouting about it."


    Julian''s eyes wided in surprise.


    The Empire had strict prohibition laws on the production, transportation, and sale of alcohol. Grain spirits couldn''t exceed 9% alcohol, and wine no more than 3%. Anything stronger was illegal and had to be destroyed. The punishmt for making, transporting, or selling distilled spirits was severe, born out of a belief that strong alcohol created demons.


    ???¦®????.???


    The law was established after the Empire''s third prince drank himself to death¡ªsome claimed he vomited black bile right before he passed away.


    At that time, all production and sale of undiluted spirits were banned. But as Julian had just realized, prohibition only made alcohol more lucrative. In a post-war empire where many sought an escape, the demand for hard liquor soared. Despite the law, underg production and transport of moonshine created ormous profits for those daring ough to take the risk.


    As Julian continued hauling crates, his mind wandered. From what he''d learned in his dreams, alcohol could be distilled to produce high-proof liquor. He didn''t know what the local " liquor" tasted like, but he had no doubt it was pott.


    Later, during lunch, Julian caught up to Graf on their way to the cafeteria by the rails. Glancing a to make sure no one was listing, he asked, "Graf, ar''t we brothers?"


    Graf puffed out his chest proudly. "Of course, brother!"


    "Good. So, tell me¡ªhow much do you think a bottle of that high-proof alcohol is worth? From the batch we loaded this morning."


    Graf''s gaze narrowed with suspicion. He studied Julian carefully. Graf might have looked like a brute, but he knew wh to be cautious. "Why? You thinking about buying one? Kid, your paycheck for the whole month won''t ev cover one bottle."


    Julian''s jaw dropped. A whole month''s wages? Just wh he''d started to believe his hard work would at least earn him five dollars by the d of the month, learning that a single bottle of whiskey would cost him that much filled him with frustration. His fingers trembled with a sudd eagerness as he saw the possibility of earning more money.


    Noticing the look on Julian''s face, Graf asked, "What''s going on in that head of yours?"


    Julian snapped out of his thoughts, playing it cool. "I''m fine. Never felt better!" he laughed.


    Leaning in again, he asked, "What about low-proof alcohol? How much does that go for?"


    Graf glanced a cautiously before replying, "List, if you''re thinking of buying high proof stuff and th diluting it, save your money. Don''t ev bother."


    Julian''s expression shifted through a range of emotions before he sighed deeply. "Can I trust you?"


    In response, Graf pulled a small knife from his back pocket, startling Julian ough that he almost backed away. But Graf calmly cut his own palm, letting blood drip down his hand. "This is a Guar tradition," he said, grabbing Julian''s hand and making a small cut. "We''re brothers now. This blood oath is sacred. If either of us breaks it, the gods will punish us."


    Julian watched in awe as they clasped bloody hands. For a long momt, he said nothing, lost in thought. Finally, growing impatit, Graf nudged him. "What are you thinking?"


    Julian looked up, dead serious. "My hand''s numb. Am I going to die?"


    Graf rolled his eyes. "Don''t worry. Worst case scario, you lose a hand."

 Chapter 8: Chapter 8 High Stakes Ventures

    "Still not out yet?" Graf''s eyes were bloodshot, a sign of the immse stress he was under. For him, this was no less than a high-stakes gamble, one that risked his tire fortune.


    He was one of the few porters at the station who could actually make a dect living, earning about elev to twelve dollars a month, thanks to his speed and efficicy. If the number of porters were reduced, his earnings would increase ev more.


    Under Julian''s detailed explanation, he had put forth all his savings¡ªforty-one dollars¡ªas the "startup capital" for their business. According to their agreemt, if they successfully transformed low-proof alcohol into high-proof alcohol, Graf would take forty perct of the profits from selling the high-proof alcohol.


    Julian had no objection to this; he had originally planned to give Graf fifty perct of the profit.


    But wh Graf immediately asked for t perct less, Julian, no fool, knew better than to argue further.


    With Graf''s forty-one dollars, Julian quickly gathered everything needed from memory. A small metal bucket to boil the low-proof alcohol, a lid with a pipe attached. The pipe ran through another bucket filled with water, and at the d of it, a glass basin was placed to catch the liquid. The setup didn''t cost much, just four dollars and fifty cts in total.


    If not for the need to have a blacksmith attach a pipe to the lid and seal the gaps betwe the wood barrel and the pipe, it would have cost only three dollars and sevty-eight cts.


    The real money was spt on the boxes of low-proof alcohol, some sugar, glass bottles, and the house they were using¡ªall of which consumed a large portion of their startup capital and couldn''t be avoided.


    They both took two days off and spt all their time in the small room. Graf, ever cautious, had covered all the windows and doors with curtains, which turned out to be a terrible idea as the room began to stink.


    As the low-proof alcohol in the small metal pot began to bubble, Julian weighed down the lid with some stones and reached out to touch the pipe, only to pull back quickly¡ªit was hot. The momt the first drop of liquid dripped from the other d of the pipe, Graf was immediately on alert, carefully watching the process. More liquid began to drip, faster and faster.


    Graf dipped his trembling hand into the liquid at the bottom of the basin and brought it to his mouth.


    Julian swallowed dryly, his throat burning from tsion. He had giv it his all for the past two days, and now his heartbeat thumped loudly in his chest. If they succeeded, all would be well, but if they failed, he would feel guilty¡ªGraf had risked everything for this!


    Wh he saw Graf close his eyes, his features scrunched up, and his whole body began to tremble, Julian''s mind wt blank. Had they failed? He sighed in defeat, ready to extinguish the flame, wh Graf suddly shouted, "It''s good!"


    Overjoyed, Graf expressed his excitemt, almost unable to contain his relief. Before meeting Julian, he had no idea that cheap, low-proof alcohol could be turned into expsive, high-proof alcohol. If he had known this earlier, would he still be working as a porter at the station?


    Both of them shared a look, their eyes gleaming with the excitemt of success. Without needing words, they broke into a shared burst of laughter, the tsion and joy of the momt finally spilling over.


    Their laughter didn''t last long, as a loud dong dong dong came from upstairs, accompanied by the shrill voice of a woman yelling, "Are you going to keep everyone up? You jobless idiots will never escape this shithole, let us who have work in the morning have some sleep!"


    They both froze, stifling their laughter, but neither felt any displeasure from the woman''s complaints and curses. They turned back to the simple distillation equipmt, staring at the small bowl of amber liquid emitting a not so pleasant odor, yet both were utterly captivated. This wasn''t just high proof alcohol; this was money!


    Julian''s heart raced ev faster, his mouth dry. He knew they had brok imperial law, but for some reason, he felt no fear. Instead, he was filled with exhilaration, a sse of excitemt! If it wer''t for the need to keep a low profile, he would have thrown op the windows and sung aloud to release his joy.


    ?¡Ì¨N¦¥?¦Ñ??.??§®


    "How long do we keep distilling?" Graf asked, tilting his head as he noticed the liquid dripping from the pipe slowing down.


    Julian wasn''t sure. He hesitated for a momt before suggesting, "Maybe we should stop for now and see how much we''ve bottled." As soon as he said this, the two of them set to work, pouring the liquid from the basin into their prepared bottles. Staring at two full bottles and one three-quarters full, their excitemt faded, replaced by deep suspicion.


    They had used three bottles of low-proof alcohol for this experimt, but somehow ded up with nearly three bottles of high-proof alcohol. The more they thought about it, the more it didn''t seem right.


    Graf grabbed the half-filled bottle and took a swig, only to spit it out immediately. "Ugh, why is it so bitter? The taste is off, and the alcohol contt isn''t ev high!"


    Julian quickly oped the small metal pot and found a layer of burnt, yellowish, sticky substance bubbling at the bottom. Using a small stick, he poked it, blew on it, and tasted it. A strong flavor of sweetness and bitterness hit him, making his head throb.


    He slapped his forehead as he realized that the first liquid they had collected was indeed high-proof alcohol, but after that, water had started evaporating, leaving behind the non-evaporative substances.


    Like the sugars and spices in the alcohol.


    Now that they understood what had happed, the next steps were much clearer. Julian scraped out the burnt residue from the small pot, poured the low-proof alcohol back in, and distilled it again. Wh about a bottle''s worth of liquid had be collected, he switched to a new container. This time, wh they tasted the liquid in the basin, it was not only bitter but also very strong.


    Julian slowly added the burnt syrup-like residue back in, adjusting the taste until Graf declared it perfect.


    "I think we can start selling now!" Graf couldn''t resist taking another sip. Lord knows, he had never joyed high-proof alcohol as much as this. The fiery liquid filled his stomach, but what rose was a warm ssation. He loved the burning taste, much like how he liked adding chili powder to his cigarettes.


    Julian, however, was more cautious. "We should investigate the market, check the prices and flavors of the most popular high-proof alcohol, and th improve our product to make it stand out. That way, we can build a better reputation and value for ourselves."


    Graf, already a bit tipsy, scratched his ear with his pinky and asked, "Does that mean we''ll make more money?"


    Julian nodded firmly, "Yes, we''ll make a lot more money!"


    Graf laughed loudly, his voice filled with excitemt and anticipation. They both knew they were onto something big, but they also understood there was a long way to go. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But soon, they faced another problem¡ªthey were out of money!


    Graf''s suggestion was to take the distilled alcohol they had and sell it for some quick cash, th use that money to buy and sample other high-proof alcohol on the market. But Julian had a differt idea. Jumping into an illegal business without proper preparation wasn''t something a smart person would do¡ªit was likely to cause unnecessary atttion.


    And building a profitable operation would take time and careful planning.


    So, the two returned to the station, waiting for the d of the month and their next paycheck.

 Chapter 9: Chapter 9 Encounter With The Union

    "Julian!" Mr. Kre called out from the second-floor hallway outside his office. Wh Julian turned to look at him, Kre nodded toward a nearby meeting room and said, "Come up here for a momt."


    Julian set down his work and glanced at Graf, who had just finished unloading some cargo. Graf patted his shoulder lightly and said, "Don''t worry. If nothing unexpected happs, it''s probably the union reps."


    Ev though Graf saw dealing with the union as a trivial matter, Julian, facing the union for the first time, couldn''t help but let the nervousness show in his stiffed smile. He slapped his cheeks gtly and took a deep breath, "Don''t worry, I won''t be nervous."


    Graf shrugged. This was something Julian would have to handle on his own; there wasn''t much Graf could do to ease his tsion.


    Unions were an esstial support system for workers. Most of the time, workers didn''t need them, but wh they did, unions could make all the differce. Especially wh dealing with capitalists. Without union support, workers were oft at a disadvantage, particularly wh it came to wages.


    Greedy capitalists always sought to exploit workers to save costs, but thanks to the union and the Minimum Wage Protection Act, they couldn''t go too far in their exploitation.


    Wh workers rights were infringed upon, unions would step in to fight for them.


    A rowned sociologist of the Empire, who was also a promint capitalist, once said in a newspaper: "If a single worker is a rabbit, th a group of workers is a pack of hounds. We can shear the rabbit for profit, but we must avoid the hounds to protect ourselves."


    This statemt caused a huge uproar in society and led to a large-scale protest, condemning the sociologist''s inappropriate remarks. Under immse pressure, the sociologist had to publish an apology in the newspaper. The matter should have ded there, but unfortunately, the man couldn''t help himself and later commted, "I''ve lost to the hounds!"


    This raged the workers ev more, and they ded up assaulting the sociologist, stripping him of his clothes, and tying him to the railing outside the third-floor platform of the Imperial Building, causing a national scandal...


    Julian straighted his clothes, knocked on the meeting room door, and, hearing a "come in," pushed it op.


    Three people were seated at the conferce table: two m and one woman. The woman appeared to be in her thirties, dressed in an elegant suit, though her facial features were somewhat sharp, lacking the usual softness of a woman. The two m were also impeccably dressed, with their hair slicked down so smoothly that not ev a fly could land on it.


    Julian smiled awkwardly and glanced outside the door, making sure he hadn''t tered the wrong room.


    But the three in front of him¡­ if they were worker represtatives, Julian found that hard to believe.


    If workers dressed like this, th the working class must be wealthy indeed.


    The older man smiled and nodded at Julian, th glanced through the documts on the table before asking, "You''re Julian, right?" Th, quickly realizing his omission, he added, "Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I''m Frank, a represtative of the Workers'' Union. This gtleman next to me is Abdul, who holds the same position as I do. As for this lady¡­"


    Wh Frank looked at the woman, she gave Julian a curt nod, her expression unchanged. "I''m Selina, the legal advisor for the Workers'' Union."


    Frank picked up the conversation again, "We''re here today on behalf of the Workers Union to invite you to join. The Workers'' Union is a family for the working class. In the face of the capitalist''s ruthless exploitation, we can only protect and fight for our rights by standing together."


    At that momt, Selina interrupted, "Pardon me for cutting in," she said, pointing her p at Julian''s right hand. "I noticed your right hand is bandaged, and there''s still some blood on it. Is this an injury you sustained while working here?"


    Julian was caught off guard and froze for a momt before answering, "Ah? Oh! Yes, I got hurt rectly."


    Selina nodded slightly, though it wasn''t clear what exactly that gesture meant. "After you were injured, did Mr. Kre, the station manager, take you for treatmt, cover your medical expses, and offer you compsation for the injury?" S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian scratched his head. "This was my own fault, nothing to do with Mr. Kre."


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    Selina abruptly stood up and slammed her p down on the table, her expression becoming ev more serious. "No, young man, you''re mistak. Whether it was your fault or not, as long as you were injured while working, it''s classified as a workplace injury."


    Frank, seeing Julian''s growing tsion, stood up, walked over, and motioned for him to sit down. "Don''t worry. What we''re doing is not for personal gain, and this is exactly what shows the power of the union in protecting our rights."


    Not long after, Abdul tered the meeting room with Mr. Kre. Faced with Selina, who was a well-known lawyer within the union, Kre greeted her first, "Hello, Ms. Selina."


    Selina remained stern and unmoved. Only after Kre had tak a seat did she ask, "Mr. Kre, are you aware of Julian''s injury that occurred while he was working?"


    Kre was tak aback. He truly didn''t know. As the station manager, he had many responsibilities to manage daily and didn''t have the time to check on every worker''s well being. Since Julian hadn''t mtioned it, Kre had no idea. This left him in a difficult position.


    He glanced at Julian''s bandaged hand, feeling a twinge of discomfort. As a manager and exploiter, he hated dealing with union represtatives because they always managed to come up with some absurd reason to make capitalists like him fork over money for no appart reason.


    Kre shook his head and answered truthfully, "I didn''t know. Julian never told me, and I wasn''t aware of it."


    "And do you know the consequces you face as an employer wh a worker is injured on the job?" Selina asked, flipping op her notebook and writing something down casually before looking back at Kre. "For instance, covering medical expses, providing nutritional supplemts, and offering paid leave?"


    Kre fell silt. Not only did he know, but he knew very well. Injuries among the porters at the station were common. Some workers, ev wh exhausted, would push themselves to the limit, unwilling to miss out on the commission, only to d up hurting themselves. Whever that happed, Kre would have to step in with money to settle things. Usually, it wasn''t a huge amount.


    For something like Julian''s hand injury, medical costs would amount to a three dollars, and the nutrition and compsation wouldn''t exceed six dollars in total.


    But six dollars was still money, and these union people had shown up at the worst possible time. If they had come a few days later, of this would have be an issue.


    Selina''s voice suddly rose. "What''s wrong, Mr. Kre? Are you unwilling to pay these costs? If that''s the case, we might have to file a lawsuit in Ternell city court."


    Kre immediately raised his hand. "No, no, I''ll pay. Six dollars, right? I''ll give him time off tomorrow!"


    He backed down immediately. It wasn''t worth going to court over six dollars, especially since hiring a lawyer would cost at least t. It was better to just pay the six dollars and avoid the hassle. He quickly agreed to cover the expses and give Julian three days off, which instantly quieted Selina.


    After Abdul escorted Kre out of the room, Frank smiled and said, "See? That''s the power of the union! One of our main reasons for coming here today was to invite you to join the Workers'' Union. Once you''re a member, you''ll joy many befits and protections. Today''s situation was just a small example of what we can do.


    The best part is, no matter what happs, any legal fees required to defd your rights will be covered by the union. You won''t have to pay a ct."


    "Of course, to joy these befits, you''ll also need to contribute. That includes an annual membership fee of fifty cts, participating in union activities wh necessary, and following the guidance on work-related matters. If you can agree to these three conditions, I''ll officially welcome you into the Workers'' Union."


    Julian found these terms reasonable, especially after hearing the befits from Graf earlier, so he quickly agreed. Later, Mr. Kre brought the six dollars, and Julian took fifty cts out of it to pay Frank as his annual union fee.


    Frank told him he should visit the Ternell City Workers'' Union headquarters within a week to register and have his information recorded in the national database.


    Wh Julian returned to the platform, Graf came over and asked, "How was it? Not so scary, right?"


    Julian nodded. "You were right. They''re good people. They ev got me six dollars from Mr. Kre."


    "Six dollars?" Graf glanced at Julian''s bandaged hand and slapped his forehead. "Wait here a minute. Mr. Kre owes me six dollars too!"

 Chapter 10: Chapter 10 Brewing a New Plan

    Julian''s initial reluctance soon faded away. Frank seemed guine, and everything Graf had mtioned about the union rang true. Without further hesitation, Julian agreed to join. Frank took the fifty-ct membership fee, officially inducting him into the Workers Union, with the promise that his name would be registered with union headquarters by the d of the week.


    Julian returned to the platform, where Graf quickly approached him. "How''d it go? Not too bad, right?"


    Julian smiled and nodded. "You were right. They got me six dollars from Mr. Kre."


    Graf''s eyes wided in disbelief. "Six dollars?" His gaze shifted to Julian''s bandaged hand, and th, as if a light bulb had gone off, he slapped his forehead. "Wait here¡ªI''m getting my six dollars from Mr. Kre too!"


    Mr. Kre''s face twisted in disbelief, as though he''d just witnessed the most upsetting evt of his life. Already in a foul mood after losing six dollars to the union over a supposed work injury, he had spt the tire morning cursing them in his office. So, wh Graf burst in, drched in sweat and shoving his bandaged hand in Kre''s face, demanding compsation, it was more than he could handle.


    Graf was caught off guard wh Kre didn''t put up a fight. Without a word of protest, Kre nearly threw six dollars at him and practically shoved him out the door. The union had shak him so much that he seemed completely uninterested in arguing any further.


    Julian and Graf, still shocked by their sudd windfall, decided to advance their plans for "market research." They had intded to save for an tire month, but now, with the unexpected cash in hand, they put on their best clothes and headed straight for the pubs. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In the wake of the post-war economic collapse and the lingering psychological trauma, people were desperately seeking outlets. Aside from wom, high-proof alcohol became the most popular escape. Every pub was stocked with differt liquors, sold in various states of dilution.


    Graf led Julian into a bar called "The Workers'' Frid." The bouncer, a hulking figure, gave them a once-over before letting them pass through the narrow, dark trance. Inside, the stch¡ªthick with sweat and vomit¡ªnearly made Julian gag.


    As soon as Graf tered, the bartder recognized him. Graf had clearly become a familiar face. "What''ll it be today? Red berry wine?"


    Red berry wine, the cheapest option for the working class, was little more than fermted fruit, sometimes tasting sour from overripe berries. It cost about elev or twelve cts a glass, just cheap ough for most to overlook its unpleasant taste.


    But today, Graf had differt plans. Leaning forward, he spoke in a hushed voice, "A glass of ''Gold Sunshine'' and one ''Lady in a Skirt,'' please."


    The bartder raised an eyebrow, clearly tak aback. Graf and Julian were just laborers, and neither should have the luxury to afford these mid-range, high-proof drinks. Still, without question, the bartder turned to prepare their order. Everyone knew that the bar''s owner had connections with local gangs, and no one dared refuse paymt.


    The drinks arrived¡ªtwo square glasses, just over half full. One glowed with a gold hue, reminisct of champagne, while the other was a deep orange. The bartder leaned in, his breath heavy with the sct of alcohol, and said, "That''ll be five dollars."


    Graf slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter without a word. The bartder pocketed it swiftly.


    Graf''s excitemt was barely contained. "Let''s go," he said, lifting his glass. He took a long swallow, closing his eyes with satisfaction before letting out a contted sigh. "Just perfect." He pushed the glass towards Julian. "Your turn." ?¡Ì?§¦????.?§°§®


    Julian took the glass cautiously, savoring a small sip. The momt the liquid hit his tongue, a fiery warmth spread down his throat, but the sweetness quickly followed, balancing the burn.


    "This is rich," Julian said, licking his lips. "Strong, but sweet... and is that a hint of wood?"


    Graf grinned. "That''s dragon''s bloodwood. It''s the secret to high-proof alcohol a here. Without it, you can''t make the strong stuff. No one knows exactly why, but that''s what people say."


    Julian found it fascinating. In this world, high-proof alcohol wasn''t made through distillation like in his dreams. Instead, they hanced weaker spirits by running them through dragon''s bloodwood, a material that had become esstial to the local liquor industry.


    He th tried the "Lady in a Skirt." While it had a slight bitterness, it only added complexity to the drink, giving it depth. Julian found it ev more joyable than the "Gold Sunshine." There was a subtle sweetness that lingered, like the bittersweet memory of a happy goodbye.


    After finishing their drinks, they left the bar and returned to their rted room. Without wasting any time, they pulled out their homemade moonshine, eager to compare it against the drinks they had just tried.


    They added syrup to their moonshine to cut the bitterness, but it still couldn''t match the smoothness of "Gold Sunshine" or "Lady in a Skirt." The alcohol contt was there, but the taste was rough, It lacked the refinemt and polish of the more expsive drinks.


    Gold Light and Lady in the Skirt cost two dollars fifty a glass, and their homemade liquor would maybe go for one dollar fifty at most. The differce of one dollar per glass became a gap three times as wide wh extrapolated to the cost of an tire bottle.


    "What now?" Graf asked, grimacing as he choked down the liquid. He was red faced from the booze. "We need a new plan."


    Julian, recalling concepts of distillation that had come to him in a dream, pondered how it could be done with the tools at their disposal. He paused for a momt before offering, "I have two thoughts."


    Graf''s eyes lit up. "Let''s hear them!"


    "First, we could age the hooch in casks carved from dragonblood wood. If we hold it in the casks for a few months, it could significantly gain flavor."


    "Second, we could infuse the vodka with fruit or berries to create a high proof fruit wine a 0% ABV. It would make it taste smoother and richer."


    Graf shook his head before Julian could finish. "The first idea''s out! I''m not waiting a year. But that second one¡ªyeah, it''s much quicker. Let''s start with that and worry about aging later."


    Julian nodded. They had just tak the first baby step into high proof alcohol. All that remained was execution.

 Chapter 11: Chapter 11 Into The High-Proof Alcohol Market

    "Graf, I want to know what you are doing. This is the station. As long as you''re here, you must follow our agreemt and do your job properly!" Mr. Kre loosed his tie and placed a cup of coffee in front of Graf.


    Rectly, Mr. Kre noticed that Graf''s performance had plummeted to less than a third of what it used to be. He had ev be abst during the busiest times in the afternoon!


    That was something no capitalist could tolerate. They pay you to work as if your life depds on it, not to provide charity. The station gave these workers ough food and almost ough rest time every day. They could ev take a few days off each month, as long as it was during less busy periods. Mr. Kre felt that he had already be patit and tolerant ough with these bottom-tier workers.


    They should be weeping with gratitude for the life he granted them, not thinking about slacking off!


    If it wer''t for Graf''s high standing and reputation at the station, Mr. Kre might have already invoked certain clauses in their contract to punish this damn guy.


    Graf, with a blank expression, raised the cup of coffee and downed it like water. After smacking his lips, he said something that nearly made Mr. Kre jump out of his seat. "This stuff is really bitter, like burnt pot scrapings mixed with water, ev the color matches."


    Thirty bucks per pound for coffee beans from the southern empire, and this guy compared it to burnt pot and water?


    Mr. Kre frowned but hid his displeasure. A Barbarian countryman would always be a Barbarian countryman. Ev living in the city, they couldn''t shake their rural ignorance and stupidity. This thought made Kre''s frustration less as he looked at Graf like a gorilla he might see at the zoo with his kids, feeling a sse of superiority rise from within.


    "Am I seriously discussing coffee with a gorilla?"


    He ev chuckled, filled with disdain and contempt.


    He sat down in his comfortable chair behind the desk and took a sip of the rich, aromatic coffee. The bitterness quickly melted into a warmth that spread through him. The lingering aftertaste made every cell in his body seem to relax and breathe freely, craving the next sip. Satisfied, he nodded. Thirty bucks a pound was worth every bit of the indulgce.


    Sighing, he spoke earnestly, "Graf, I know you have just over a month left on your contract, but you need to understand that ev if you''re free tomorrow, today you''re still a station employee. You can''t ignore our work rules, and what you''re doing sets a bad example for others."


    Graf nodded as he walked to the coffee pot with his cup, hesitating for a momt before choosing a larger glass¡ªa square one typically used for liquor. He poured all the coffee into it. "I understand, sir. Don''t worry, I''ll follow the rules, and I won''t skip work again." He raised the large glass of "burnt water," sniffed it, and once again downed it in one gulp.


    "It''s still so bitter and doesn''t quch thirst at all. I really don''t know why anyone would like this stuff!" He lifted the empty glass, ignoring Mr. Kre''s redding face. "Thanks for the hospitality, sir. If there''s nothing else, I''ll get back to work."


    After patting his pants, he left Kre''s office. Kre, staring at the now empty coffee pot, clched his fingers against the desk, sliding them down in frustration. He was losing it.


    Julian caught up with Graf outside the office. "What happed? Was Krian making things difficult for you?" Julian asked quietly.


    Graf wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and said, "Nah. Same ol'' same. He just told me not to skip work again, nothing more." He started to sound a bit indignant. "We skip work together, so why does he only give me a hard time and not you?" §®¡Ì?¦¥???§Á.???


    Julian chuckled and shrugged. "Maybe I just bld in better,"


    "Or maybe you''re worthless to the station," Graf grumbled, the annoyance dissipating quickly. "We''ve finished two cases. Should we start selling?"


    Two cases of twelve bottles each were stashed under their bed in their rted room. One case of "First Love," the sour fruit liquor, and one case of "Snow Elf." According to Julian, both would sell for the same price, with a target of t bucks per bottle. Each bottle contained about .4 pints, roughly 0 milliliters.


    Their cost per bottle was a two and a half to three bucks. If sold at t bucks each, their profit would be betwe six and sev bucks. Wh Julian calculated the profit, Graf''s eyes turned red. Heav knows, he had never imagined selling high-proof alcohol could be this lucrative! A case of twelve bottles meant about eighty bucks in pure profit.


    With his forty perct share, Graf stood to make thirty bucks per case¡ªsixty bucks for both.


    That meant if they sold both cases, he could buy out his contract and have more time to make ev more fruit liquor with Julian¡ªand make ev more money.


    So whatever Mr. Kre said, he just treated it like a loud fart!


    The two walked to a corner of the station, and Julian lowered his voice. "I''ll need you to handle the sales. I don''t know much about the city''s bars. Make sure to sell to differt places, not just one person. We need more people to know about our product."


    "I got it!" Graf nodded quickly, excitedly waving his arms. "Wh should we go?"


    Julian glanced at the clock in the station warehouse. "Now, before the eving bar rush begins!"


    ...


    Gorn, a wealthy man living on the outskirts of Ternell City, managed two successful farms¡ªone for beef cattle, the other for dragonblood wood trees. His businesses had flourished, placing him among the promint figures of the local upper class, though he remained just shy of the elite in larger cities.


    At thirty-sev, Gorn had aged well, his polished appearance and calm demeanor oft drawing atttion. Despite his success, he had never pursued intimate relationships, leaving others to speculate about his private life.


    But few knew the truth: Gorn had once loved deeply. Years ago, his family had st her away to a wealthier city, and wh he sought her out later, he found her married with childr. Brokhearted, Gorn buried himself in his work, climbing to his currt status but never finding love again. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    One eving at the Wild Rose Bar, the bartder offered him two new drinks: "First Love" and "Snow Elf." Gorn sampled "First Love," and as its bittersweet taste hit his tongue, it stirred memories of the love he''d lost long ago.


    That night, Gorn sat in silce, his thoughts drifting to the past. A him, others drank quietly, lost in their own reflections. As the eving wore on, the two new drinks became popular¡ª"Snow Elf" with its smooth sweetness, and "First Love" for the bittersweet taste of nostalgia it brought.

 Chapter 12: Chapter 12 Fortunes Built On Breaking The Laws

    "We made it!" Graf, clutching a sheaf of bills and some coins in his hand with excitmt.


    Graf was almost maniacal in his joy. A week ago, if you''d have told Graf you could earn that much in just one week by laying down forty dollars, no way he would have believed you. He''d laugh and th punch you out of sheer aggravation.


    Seeing this Julian smiled in relife.


    Just as he had contemplated...


    The dream he had of that extraordinary man''s life will allow him to climb up from nothing to stand on the top of the world just like that man had done in his world.


    Julian still remembred a momt from that dream that left a very deep impression on him.


    It was a momt where that extraordinary man oped a book named THE PENAL CODE OF CALIFORNIA and started reading it slowly before saying to himself, "All the most profitable businesses are right here in these pages."


    Maybe dream and reality differ¡ªbe it in setting, technology, or custom¡ªcertain principles remain immutable. The more something is banned, the bigger the risk. And yet with that risk comes unimaginable riches to those brave ough to take it.


    They had turned the $ bill into $50 by the next day. It was a small price to pay to cross a few moral boundaries in return for The Star Empire money and a better lifestyle.


    "What''s the next step?" Graf asked, still in a state of excitemt and delusion over what they had just done. His mind was reeling with the fortune that they had just grasped.


    Julian walked a the room as he thought about their next step. "Right now is wh we expand the business and set up shop. But first, I need you to take care of some things."


    Graf thumped his chest with thusiasm.


    "The first priority is to instruct the dem shopps we supplied that they only received a preliminary batch to test the market; and in a few days, we will start delivering the real one."


    Ternell City was close to the borders, an ever-expanding hub of smuggling operations. These ranged from large-scale to small-time operations, but for most people living there, the smuggling trade was tirely invisible. Julian planned to market his goods as smuggled items from other cities to avoid pottial crackdowns on his business.


    As for supply, Julian had clear ideas. Although flooding the market with product might bring in fast money, it would never elevate the price consumers would pay for those goods. However, by limiting the supply they could make people think, ''This is rare and valuable!'' A classic ruse.


    Once its reputation has be established, the product will automatically raise its price as demand escalates¡ªa complicated project made simple by letting consumers do the work.


    "The second thing is to arrange a secure supply," Julian said. "If we always go to those people you know with a large quantities, they''ll surely figure out that we''ve developed a new style of distillation besides just dragon bloodwood. If this occurs¡ªthere will be two outcome for us to make: either we flee the Empire and become fugitives, or we die horribly."


    Julian continued, "Make contact with the foreign liquor distributors in Ternell. Sd the product through them, but do it under the name of a trading company you own. And don''t make any final decisions without consulting me first. This is a very profitable business, but also a dangerous one¡ªonly those who survive get to joy the profit."


    Strong spirits, within the Star Empire, was a lucrative trade. But it wasn''t really a business for just anyone to get his foot in: only those powerful families who bore down with their soul on anything inside were sure of continuing rich profits this way.


    There was one night wh Graf Wintnessed a gang of extortionists visited a drug smuggler at home. The ringleader was sured by bodyguards carrying crackers (M-80s) and guns. Wh he remembered that, Graf broke out in a cold sweat.


    That was all it took¡ªGraf could see he was nothing more than a speck in this world of shadows compared to those people who had sold their souls to a cause and are willing to trample on anything in their way.


    Julian appreciated Graf. On the one hand, he had the guts to take chances and was no fool; on the other hand, he was clever ough not to tread beyond what he could handle. He knew wh he had to rely on his judgmt and wh orders had to be obeyed to the letter. If he had be reckless, Julian would have vanished without a trace long ago. ??¨N¦®?§²?§Á.???


    Of course, if things wt south, Julian wouldn''t mind getting rid of Graf first.


    After all, the value hidd in distillation was ough to make every corporation in the world tremble. It wasn''t just a way to get rich¡ªit was a knife that could take his life at any momt!


    After assigning Graf his tasks, Julian set off to handle his own. His mission was simple: register a trademark and a trading company.


    In his plan, low-proof alcohol should be imported from abroad. Although the price might increase by about to 5 perct, it wouldn''t come close to cutting into their profits. Importing low-proof alcohol would prevt local brewers and distillers from noticing the large-scale influx of liquor being converted into high-proof alcohol.


    In the early stages of any technological monopoly, the key was to keep a low profile. Only after amassing ough capital could you sit at the same table as the big players and take risks oply.


    After sding Graf on his way, Julian headed to the Ternell branch of The Star Empire Chamber of Commerce with t bucks in hand. In this world, all sorts of organizations handled functions that would typically be the governmt''s responsibility.


    The Star Empire had only just emerged from war, and if the governmt wanted to take over some of the union''s work, it would require vast manpower and resources¡ªsomething they simply couldn''t afford. Additionally, the Empire realized that their outdated political and military systems were holding them back, so during this period of reform, social instability had already begun.


    If they hastily tried to reclaim power from these civilian organizations, it could lead to unrest, and the weaked Empire couldn''t afford a major conflict or civil war at such a fragile time.


    So, for now, the Empire appeased the unions and assured them their piece of the pie was safe. At the same time, they were learning from the unions, preparing for the day they could reclaim control. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Thus, commercial activities like company registration and trademark filing were tirely managed by the Empire Chamber of Commerce, with no involvemt from the official governmt.


    And because businessm ran the Chamber, there was nothing money couldn''t solve.


    For instance... buying a permit.


    After spding two bucks to register a trademark and four bucks to register a company, Julian slipped the remaining money into the hands of the officer. The stiff, businesslike expression on the well-dressed, slick-haired man melted into a guine smile.


    "Sir, if you''re looking to purchase a distillery licse, the minimum cost is five thousand Dollar," the clerk, swayed by four bucks, decided to bd the rules. After all, it was t days'' wages, not a small sum. All he had to do was smile. "As you may know, many distilleries violate canon law and Empire law by secretly brewing high-proof liquor.


    Cardinal Greem is very displeased with this, and under his pressure, the issuance of distillery licses has become extremely strict."


    He explained that five thousand Dollar were needed to obtain a legal licse because canon law forbade the faithful from drinking. Under this pressure, the Chamber''s board had decided to tight control over distillery licses to appease the church.


    However, they left a loophole: with a five thousand Dollar deposit, the licse could still be granted. If an inspection revealed illegal distilling, or if there was a report, the deposit would be confiscated, and the distillery would be palized.


    After learning the process for acquiring a licse, Julian thanked the now fridly clerk before leaving the Ternell branch.


    His priority now was to earn ough money to get that licse.


    As for importing low-proof alcohol from abroad, that would be the easy part.


    In these times, with ough money, you could buy anything¡ªincluding people.

 Chapter 13: Chapter 13 Gaining Popularity

    "Only twty cases a month?"


    The owner of the Wild Rose Bar, Mr. Colt, frowned. Wh Graf first approached him to promote a new high-proof fruit liquor, Colt wasn''t interested. The market for high-proof liquor had long be stable, with each customer having their preferred drink. Introducing a new product into this well-established market was likely to fail.


    However, after Graf poured him two small glasses to taste, Colt immediately saw pottial.


    The Wild Rose Bar catered to a mid-to-high-d clitele, primarily the middle-class families of Ternell city. These patrons didn''t come to get drunk daily, but they could certainly afford to joy a drink every few days. At this level, customers wer''t just consuming a product¡ªthey were indulging their tastes and preferces, only buying things they truly appreciated.


    The flavors of the two liquors were unique. From the first sip, Colt had a feeling they could carve out a niche in the market. And to his surprise, both First Love and Snow Elf were met with great acclaim. Many m favored First Love, while younger wom took to Snow Elf. In just two days, all six bottles that had be delivered were sold out. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Some regular customers ev complained about the bar for running out of these new drinks so quickly. It was a microcosm of society¡ªColt''s bar had unexpectedly stumbled upon a ssation. This newfound success sparked a deep ambition within him. If these new high-proof fruit liquors could capture the market in Ternell, why not in other cities?


    And if they could prove their appeal elsewhere, why shouldn''t he become the sole distributor?


    The lucrative nature of the high-proof alcohol trade was well-known¡ªafter all, the saying "the closer you are to breaking the law, the fuller your pockets" had become ingrained in people''s minds. If he could negotiate the right terms, ev a modest two-dollar profit per bottle could turn him into a rising star in the Empire Chamber of Commerce.


    According to his sources, the empire consumed over a hundred million bottles of high-proof liquor each year. If he could capture just one perct of that market¡ªa one million bottles¡ªhe could see a gross profit of two million in a year!


    This would dwarf his earnings from running a bar in a backwater place like Ternell. More importantly, he could use these two fruit liquors to build a brand, expanding his business empire and selling ev more products for greater profits.


    The thought of walking tall into the upper echelons of the Star Empire filled Colt with such excitemt that he couldn''t sleep a wink.


    But Graf''s next words were like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head in the dead of winter.


    The supply couldn''t keep up. One bar would only receive twty cases a month, amounting to just 40 bottles, dashing all of Colt''s aspirations and dreams.


    "Is it a production issue, or is it a transportation problem?" Colt tore at his uncomfortable necktie. "I don''t care whether you produce the liquor yourselves or source it from somewhere else. What I''m asking is, if I support you with a large investmt, can I secure more supply?"


    Graf hesitated. Of course, it sounded like a great opportunity¡ªgetting financial backing to grow the business without any strings attached. But Julian was the one in charge, and Graf knew he wasn''t smart ough to make such decisions on his own. He shook his head apologetically, "I''m sorry, sir. I need to discuss this with my partner."


    Mr. Colt, ever observant, caught the word "partner," realizing Graf wasn''t the one calling the shots. He had already investigated Graf¡ªaside from his strong physique and being a good fighter, Graf didn''t have any special talts.


    Well, unless being helpful and gerous counted as a talt. ???¦¥??¦´?.???


    It was precisely Graf''s helpful nature that earned him a certain level of fame and respect within the Guar community in Ternell. People oft sought his help wh they were in trouble, and he was known to ld a hand. A few years ago, Graf had beat a gang member so badly during a dispute betwe a Guar merchant and a local gang that the guy was left incapacitated.


    Graf had to pay a hefty fine and ev spt six months in jail.


    If someone hadn''t covered the compsation and bailed him out, Graf might still be sewing sacks in prison.


    A small-time guy like Graf suddly managing to supply such high-quality liquor? It clearly wasn''t his doing. Nor did it belong to the Guar merchant. If that guy had wanted to ter the high-proof liquor business, he wouldn''t have done it this way.


    So who was Graf''s partner?


    As Colt pondered this, he watched Graf closely.


    People always said ev fools could stumble upon gold, and though Colt had never believed it, he was starting to reconsider. If this business grew, Graf would certainly befit a great deal. Lucky fool!


    After a momt, Graf, feeling awkward under Colt''s intse gaze, shifted uncomfortably on the couch, which made an unpleasant noise. Colt finally stood up, smiling. "Alright, th. Go talk to your partner. If he''s on board, I''m willing to invest t thousand dollars to help you scale up production. This could be a big business, and I want to be a part of it."


    Graf hurriedly stood up, grinning foolishly and nodding. He tried to imitate the dignified mannerisms of the upper class, but his attempt only came off as comical.


    Barely a minute after Graf left, Colt called one of his m over. "Follow him, but don''t let him notice. I want to know who he''s be spding time with over the next few days."


    After watching his man leave, Colt sank back into the couch, his eyes gleaming with ambition.


    That day, Graf visited the other bars that were buying from him, wearing his usual smile and offering polite words. Without exception, all the bar owners were eager for larger orders of the new high-proof fruit liquors. As one of them put it, this new liquor filled a gap in the high-proof alcohol market for a fruity option. It had ormous pottial.


    In addition to some honest bar owners who just wanted more stock, two others shared the same thoughts as Colt: they wanted to become distributors for these two fruit liquors and sell them nationwide.


    After grabbing a quick meal at a roadside deli¡ªfive beef ribs, two cups of low-proof liquor, and four whole-wheat rolls¡ªGraf patted his comfortably full stomach and left, belching conttedly as he stepped out onto the street. A the corner, a figure peeked out, glaring restfully at Graf as he walked away, th quietly followed.


    Back at the workshop, Graf pulled Julian aside and relayed everything that had happed that day. Julian listed carefully and nodded, his trust in Graf growing. Not because Graf reported everything in detail, but because he hadn''t made any rash decisions.


    In Julian''s dreams, he had se too many people act impulsively and in an unthinking manner tried to do what they thought best. Just as oft, these hasty actions ded up undermining everyone''s efforts.

 Chapter 14: Chapter 14 The Birth Of A New Order

    "Where''s Graf?" Mr. Kre was sweating profusely, sured by loads of cargo waiting to be moved. Once again, Graf, who could do the work of five m, had vanished, leaving Mr. Kre seething. The railroad and steam gines were not public property of the Empire but were built and owned by powerful financial groups for their own needs. In other words, the station was a private company, and Mr.


    Kre was the owner.


    History had prov that no capitalist was ever truly bevolt. Their fridliness toward workers was nothing but a performance, a means to exploit them more efficitly. To capitalists, every worker had a precise value that represted how much they contributed physically and how much they could be exploited.


    Graf wasn''t a good worker, but he was an excellt target for exploitation. Despite his many flaws, Mr. Kre wouldn''t make things too difficult for him because Graf''s output far outweighed the trouble and losses caused by his absces.


    But all of this depded on one thing: Graf had to be prest to get exploited. Without this, Graf was worthless.


    "Has anyone se that guy?" Mr. Kre roared, ripping op his collar. Another train would arrive in an hour, requiring a massive load of goods to be unloaded and transferred. Several workers were already exhausted, and without Graf, efficicy had dropped by over t perct.


    As Kre searched the station, his frustration mounting, he finally shouted in front of the workers that Graf would be palized according to the contract.


    It was nothing more than a wage deduction and perhaps a fine.


    Jobs with strict deadlines oft had harsher contractual clauses to prevt workers from slacking off or skipping work.


    Clearly, Graf had breached the contract.


    But did Graf care?


    He didn''t care at all! S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Compared to toiling at the station, selling high-proof fruit liquor privately was far more profitable and faster.


    "We can''t keep working alone; we need a proper team to help us with this," Julian explained, imparting his thoughts to Graf. "After all, our business isn''t exactly legal. We need to disguise ourselves, sure we have ough protection for wh things go south, and manage the risks."


    Over the past two days, Julian had be constantly thinking about how to grow the business. After expericing the failure of his first vture, he had become more cautious and had gained a deeper understanding of what he had se in his dreams.


    No one can succeed alone. Competition is fierce, in any society and at any time. In such an vironmt, the only way to protect one''s core interests is by gathering more vested parties. It was like that incidt with the car wash¡ªif Julian had had Graf and maybe three or five others by his side, would that thug, Mad Dog Wilson, have dared to mess with him?


    No, he wouldn''t have!


    ???¦®§®?¦´?.?¦¨?


    Having expericed something that had affected him personally, Julian now had a clearer sse of the direction his future needed to take.


    "The trading company I registered can import some low-proof liquor as a cover. Low-proof liquor also has a huge market, and if we can figure out how to refine it, it will be a goldmine. We''ll also need about t to twty people, individuals with the ambition and courage to pursue dreams. We might be facing some competition sooner than you think."


    Graf immediately puffed out his chest, "Who? Who''s coming for us?"


    Julian sighed, his head aching. Who? Of course, it would be the high-proof liquor merchants and distilleries whose profits were being threated. Introducing a new high-proof fruit liquor to the market, one that attracted drinkers, meant people would abandon their previous choices. This was no differt from taking someone''s market share.


    It wasn''t legitimate business; Julian had known from the start that this was a shady operation.


    Shady businesses, like legitimate ones, were still subject to brutal competition. In the world of legitimate business, market competition could be managed through business tactics. But in the shadows, competition was oft settled with violce and dirty tricks.


    If you destroy someone''s livelihood, don''t expect them to smile and speak kindly to you¡ªit''ll come down to fists.


    After a long explanation, Graf slapped his forehead with a loud thwack, a look of exasperation on his face. "Why didn''t you just say you want to start a gang?"


    Start¡­ a gang?


    Julian fell silt. Wh he left the countryside, Mr. Kesma had hoped he would become a productive member of society. His mother wanted him to be successful, and his siblings wanted him to be a role model.


    No one had ever hoped he would become a gangster, let alone a gang leader.


    Wh had his grand dreams of wealth become twisted into something so far from his original aspirations?


    Julian glanced at Graf, considered the physical disparity betwe them, and sighed. Maybe it was fate.


    Julian said nothing, but Graf became ev more excited, laughing aloud. "I''ve always wanted to start a Guar gang! We Guars are all strong and brave warriors..." He glanced at Julian with the same look Julian had just giv him and added, "Well, most of us, at least¡­ haha! Once our gang is up and running, those damned Ordinian people won''t dare to bully us anymore. It''s a great idea, and I''m with you!"


    As one of the Empire''s minority groups, the Guars lived in less-than-ideal conditions. During the war, the governmt had conscripted many Guars, and their numbers had be severely reduced, leaving their communities weaked. This made them a frequt target for bullying, especially by the Ordinian people.


    In Ternell, most of the gangs were controlled by Ordinians, like Mad Dog Wilson, who was a prime example.


    Julian pondered for a momt before raising his head. "I don''t think we need a gang. What we need is an organization¡ªsomething for the Guars, like a¡­ a Fellowship association!"

 Chapter 15: Chapter 15 The Fellowship Association

    After a long pause, Julian finally looked up and said, "What we need isn''t a gang¡ªit''s an organization. A Guar association."


    The Guar people were not originally part of the Star Empire. About sixty years ago, a war broke out, and the Guar nation was destroyed by the Star Empire. The Guar people and their homeland were annexed into the empire''s territory, becoming part of its composition.


    It cannot be died that during the war of resistance, the Guar people showed a quality of preferring death on the battlefield over retreating ev a single step, causing great trouble for the Star Empire at the time.


    Afterward, in order to prevt the defeated Guar people from gathering and causing further problems, a high ranking figure came up with a strategy: scatter the Guar people and relocate them to various regions across the empire.


    Once dispersed, it was difficult for the Guar people to unite, ev if they wished to. Later, as conflicts on the border with neighboring nations escalated, leading to the outbreak of the Third World War, known as the Gold Goblet War, a large number of young Guar m were forcibly conscripted into the military, only to perish on the battlefield.


    This left the Guar people in an extremely harsh living vironmt. More rectly, in the war that just ded, many more young Guar m were drafted, causing the Guar population to suffer severely.


    Now, with many Guar families having lost their labor force and main providers, the survivors have adopted a mindset of avoiding trouble whever possible. Over time, this has made the Guar people indistinguishable from ordinary citizs, or ev more fearful of stirring up conflict. In this rapidly changing society, the Guar people have become synonymous with "honest folk" and "pushover."


    In the city of Terneil, there are about two thousand Guar households. Of the m betwe sixte and forty years of age, fewer than three hundred remain, as the rest had perished as cannon fodder in the empire''s rect wars. Their sacrifices tipped the balance in favor of the empire, securing a victory¡ªalbeit a bitter one.


    However, to the Ordinians, the dominant ethnic group of the empire, it wasn''t a bitter victory at all, but rather a grand triumph.


    They had used the populations of ethnic minorities to fight in place of the Ordinians, successfully depleting the future pottial and developmt of these minority groups. Not only did they win the war, but they also purified the population ratio¡ªtruly killing two birds with one stone!


    Under these circumstances, wh Julian proposed the idea of a "Fellowship Association," it quickly garnered atttion, particularly from the sixte year olds and those slightly younger, after Graf''s promotion of the idea.


    Having personally felt the malice from both the empire and society, these youths were eager to use their hands and efforts to improve the lives of the Guar people and their own circumstances.


    And Julian offered these kids, who had no prospects for gaining a higher status in society, a dect salary so they could support themselves and their families.


    ?¡Ì?§¦??£¤?.§³§°?


    Looking at the group of youths, aged fourte to sixte, Julian''s gaze carried an inexplicable expression as he glanced at Graf. Among these childr were ev three girls. If it wer''t for the hope and vitality in their eyes for a better future, Julian might have dismissed them all. At this momt, he forgot that he was their age himself, only slightly older than the others.


    Julian pulled Graf aside, casting a glance at the group of thirty or so boys and the three girls, and asked quietly, "No adults? No one in their twties?"


    Graf smiled awkwardly. Wh the empire''s military conscripted the m of Terneil, they forcibly drafted all males betwe sixte and forty. Besides Graf, who had hidd in the wilderness early on, there were no able bodied m left. As for those who fled, they were ev less willing to join something that had obvious gang like inttions, such as the Fellowship Association.


    These timid individuals, along with those simply wanting to live peacefully, flat out rejected Graf''s invitation. This embarrassed Graf and made him secretly restful. Wh they had asked him for help in the past, he had never refused. Now, wh it came time to fight for the Guar people''s rights, they cowered. They no longer resembled the Guar people, lacking ev an ounce of courage or resolve.


    As a result, Graf had no choice but to recruit these dissatisfied, daring youngsters.


    After Graf''s lgthy explanation, Julian was left speechless. But with the situation at hand and his own need for manpower, he had no choice but to accept it. While young people lacked the experice and lessons that adults had, he figured he would just have to put more effort into educating these youngsters. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Wh the two returned to the group, many of the boys and girls wore anxious expressions, their eyes fixated on Julian, waiting for his answer.


    After a brief momt, just as disappointmt began to show on some of their faces, Julian nodded. "The Fellowship Association welcomes you all!"


    At that momt, Graf grabbed Julian''s hand, and to Julian''s shock, reoped the barely healed cut on his palm. Blood immediately flowed out, but instead of fear, the boys and girls¡ªyes, ev the girls¡ªwere thrilled by the sight.


    Without Graf''s prompting, the boys and girls lined up, taking the knife from Graf and cutting their palms op. They each clasped Julian''s hand firmly, and unlike the last time, they kissed the back of his hand after shaking it.


    The last ceremony had be a pact betwe equals¡ªa ritual of fridship. This time, however, it was a ritual of loyalty.


    In a unique part of Guar religious culture, kissing the back of someone''s hand was an important ritual performed by family members toward the head of the household, originally stemming from the Guar aristocracy. During festive times, nobles would line up to kiss the king''s hand to show respect and submission.


    Over time, this ritual became a part of daily life, something most Guar people were familiar with.

 Chapter 16: Chapter 16 Heidler

    Especially the city dwelling youths, who, due to their social vironmt, revered and longed for everything from the Guar Kingdom''s past. Their nostalgia for the past motivated them to better themselves.


    After the last of the three girls kissed Julian''s now numb hand, he glanced at the blood soaked floor and couldn''t help but twitch his mouth. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His hand was completely numb now, not to mtion his arm. Would it have to be amputated?


    But of course, ev if he were to cry, he had to smile through the tears.


    He nodded resolutely, "From today onward, we are all one family. We share the same glory and stand as one!"


    Graf''s face flushed with excitemt as he thumped his chest and shouted, "We stand as one, and share the same glory!"


    As Julian watched the boys and girls shouting hysterically, he marveled at how a simple ceremony and a few words could have such a profound effect. His heart raced, and he squinted slightly, feeling a surreal ssation sweep over him.


    The establishmt of the Fellowship Association in Terneil was like a drop of water in a vast lake, too small to ev create a ripple. Ev those who learned about it through certain channels didn''t care much.


    A group of kids forming an association¡ªcould such a trivial thing impact the underg structure of Terneil, which hadn''t changed for years? Don''t be ridiculous. Not to mtion the small gangs that could only control one or two streets¡ªwho would dare challge the major gangs?


    They had professional forcers, and more importantly, heat crossbows and thermal ergy weapons, which civilians wer''t ev allowed to own!


    These were powerful weapons. A single thermal ergy crossbow could wipe out twty to thirty people in one sweep. Thus, everyone saw the Fellowship Association as nothing more than child''s play.


    Although many disregarded the establishmt of the association, some did take notice. One of them was Heidler, a promint figure in Terneil''s upper class, the vice presidt of the Terneil branch of the Imperial Chamber of Commerce, and a Guar himself.


    Heidler was a Guar of legdary status and one who had long be ostracized by his own people.


    This might sound confusing, but before the fall of the Guar Kingdom, some Guar had surrdered early, becoming "good citizs on the side of justice." One such person was Heidler''s father.


    At the time, in order to short the war and reduce casualties among the Ordinians, the Star Empire granted these surrdering Guar great befits and privileges, hoping to "convert" the remaining resistance in the Guar Kingdom.


    Indeed, these individuals had a significant impact, but after the fall of the Guar Kingdom, their situation became awkward. The Ordinians no longer wished to grant them privileges and found excuses to revoke some of their rights. This devastated Heidler''s father''s family, pushing them to the brink of bankruptcy.


    ?¡Ì?????§Á.§³§°?


    Heidler''s father evtually died from a stroke, leaving the crumbling family business to Heidler , who was th barely twty years old.


    Through his exceptional skills and personal abilities, Heidler rose and fell several times before finally solidifying his place in the Imperial Chamber of Commerce, becoming a person of high status.


    Having expericed so many ups and downs, Heidler was ev more eager for the scattered Guar people to unite. But he couldn''t do it himself. His position was already high ough that others were beginning to grow wary of a Guar holding one of the thirty-six seats in the Chamber of Commerce. If he made a move, those wolves in the shadows would have an excuse to kick him out.


    Wh Heidler heard that a man named Julian Kesma had established a Fellowship Association, he immediately began investigating everything about Julian


    Heidler wanted to meet this young man named Julian for two reasons.


    The first reason was that his currt position was very ssitive and awkward. In the eyes of the Ordinians, the Guar people were a "conquered race." For the Ordinians, who harbored a strong sse of superiority, the Guar people were considered "inferiors," defeated and unwelcome losers.


    Now, the fact that one of these losers had managed to become one of the thirty six council members of the Chamber of Commerce was something many found unbearable.


    Had Heidler not be extremely cautious and avoided making any missteps, he would have be voted out of his position long ago.


    Therefore, he needed power¡ªa force strong ough that, ev if others had objections to him, they would have to grudgingly accept him. This power had be on his mind for quite some time, and it was other than the scattered Guar people.


    Once they were united, with Heidler guiding and leading them, for the sake of stability, both the empire and the Chamber of Commerce would have to consider Heidler, the "leader" of the Guar people.


    Only in this way could he continue to grow his influce.


    The second reason was actually an extsion of the first. Heidler needed someone to help him not with business matters, but to handle things that couldn''t see the light of day.


    There''s a saying in the capitalist circles: "If you become kind, you''ll have to face countless demons." This phrase doesn''t seem to have much problem on the surface, but what it really speaks to is the dynamic betwe the attitude of capitalists and the exploited.


    The former cemt tycoon Dorfalk was very good to his workers, offering higher wages than other industries and ev providing some befits, always maintaining a fridly relationship with them.


    Later, however, Dorfalk faced fierce competition from his business rivals, who banded together to form a new company and gaged in brutal competition with him. They used cheaper labor to produce lower cost cemt, shattering Dorfalk''s market defses. To protect himself, Dorfalk had no choice but to reduce workers wages and befits to cope with the pain caused by malicious price wars.


    Wh both sides had suffered heavy losses and were ready to call it quits, Dorfalk''s workers wt on strike.

 Chapter 17: Chapter 17 Dignity

    The reason was simple: they demanded a return to the previous high wages and befits, refusing to bear the costs of the brutal business competition. Within a month, Dorfalk Cemt Company, which once held over 65% market share, shut down due to labor issues. The market was devoured, and the once mighty cemt king declared bankruptcy.


    The ormous market and leftover assets were swiftly swallowed by the crocodiles of the capital market. Dorfalk himself, once so high and mighty, leaped from the top of the Empire State Building, leaving behind a pool of dark blood to mark the d of his brilliant life.


    This wasn''t just a problem for Dorfalk¡ªit was a problem nearly all capitalists had to face. Workers, supported and manipulated by labor unions, now had the power to stand up to and oppose capitalists. If a labor union felt that a capitalist had harmed the interests of its members, they would organize protests and strikes in retaliation.


    If the situation worsed, they might ev prevt union members from working at that company''s factory, leaving the terprise without any workers.


    But does this mean that labor unions are now on equal footing with capitalists?


    Not exactly, because capitalists have money and people.


    Money needs no explanation, but "people" refers to those forces that cannot be se¡ªgang members, or vagrants who are unemployed and idle. These individuals can use threats, intimidation, and ev violce to prevt strikes and protests, sometimes going as far as threating the lives of union leaders to force them into submission. Of course, the most common method is still simply bribery.


    Heidler didn''t have many people at his disposal. He was under the watchful eyes of the Ordinians, and if he used his own people to do these things, he would certainly be caught. Therefore, he urgtly needed someone to become his sharpest knife, someone who could do what he dared not.


    The Fellowship Association prested a perfect opportunity. Heidler had money, and he didn''t mind spding it. As long as it helped him achieve his goals, no amount of money was too much.


    Thus, Heidler was eager to meet Julian and support the developmt of the Fellowship Association as soon as possible.


    The establishmt of the Fellowship Association didn''t attract much atttion. Ev if Heidler and Julian met, it wouldn''t stir up any controversy. But if the Fellowship Association grew and began attracting atttion from certain factions, meeting with Julian later might raise suspicion about Heidler''s motives.


    So, the next morning, just as Julian stepped out of his dormitory, he saw two m in suits.


    "Someone wants to see you. Come with us," one of them said. He had short hair, wore gold rimmed glasses, and his refined suit gave him the air of a successful person. Although he spoke to Julian with a smile and a polite tone, Julian, ever ssitive, noticed the hidd contempt and disdain in the man''s eyes. Julian had lived through a decades long dream and had met countless people like this.


    Still, Julian wisely didn''t show any reaction. The man''s clothes and accessories alone were worth more than all of Julian''s savings combined. In a society where capital reigned supreme, money was the measure of a person''s success and strgth. Julian didn''t yet meet this standard, and since he hadn''t offded anyone like this before, he assumed he was safe.


    Nonetheless, he called Graf to join him, and the two of them boarded last year''s model of the Xuma, a car with a convertible roof.


    The car''s interior was spacious. Once the curtains were drawn, the cabin was cut off from the outside world. The refined looking man continued to smile his false smile as he spoke. "My name is Lamas. At Mr. Heidler''s request, I''ve come to take you to meet him." He shook his head slightly and added, "Wh speaking, don''t look directly into Mr.


    Heidler''s eyes unless he permits it. Don''t shout or use vulgar language. Wh you speak, don''t use street slang or curse words."


    "Before you speak, think carefully about whether your words are appropriate, whether they clearly express your meaning. Enunciate as much as possible, and avoid using body language. Maintain your dignity."


    ???¦®????.???


    Julian''s outward demeanor remained unchanged, but deep inside, a fire was raging. He turned to Mr. Lamas with the same fake smile and nodded.


    Lamas, satisfied, smiled in return, unaware that he had already made an emy of Julian¡ªa mortal emy.


    Every word Lamas spoke was, in Julian''s ears, an insult, a dial of everything he possessed, a malicious slander. Lamas was trampling on his self respect, his dignity, and his pride. His condescding gaze, as if looking at trash, pierced Julian''s soul. Julian swore that if giv the chance¡ªno, he would make sure of it¡ªhe would get his revge.


    But not now.


    While Julian simmered with anger and humiliation, Graf, ignorant as ever, listed inttly and nodded thusiastically, filled with excitemt.


    Graf''s case had be resolved thanks to Mr. Heidler''s intervtion, sparing him from a long prison stce. He felt deeply grateful to the man he had never met, ev thinking of him as the protector of all Guar people. After all, why would such a high status figure help a nobody like him otherwise? S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In silce, the Xuma slowly pulled up in front of an estate on the outskirts of Ternell. After exiting the car, Mr. Lamas oped the door for them and gestured toward the main trance. "Someone will take you to meet Mr. Heidler. I have other matters to attd to.


    Farewell."


    After taking a few steps, Julian suddly stopped and turned a. He caught a glimpse of Lamas wiping down the seat where they had sat with a handkerchief, which he th threw to the g.


    Julian took a deep breath, suppressing the sudd surge of anger and humiliation. He didn''t realize it yet, but the experices from his dream were quietly reshaping his worldview and personality.


    "What''s wrong?" Graf asked, nudging Julian with his elbow. "You don''t look so good. Did you stay up too late last night? For heav''s sake, we''re about to meet Mr. Heidler¡ªyou need to pull yourself together."


    Julian couldn''t help but respond sarcastically, "So, should I roll up my tail like a stray dog?" The momt the words left his mouth, he regretted saying them.


    Graf was stunned for a momt, th shook his head. "Once you meet Mr. Heidler, you''ll understand what kind of man he is."


    Julian remebred a saying from his dream: "Those with differt paths cannot walk together."


    He glanced at Graf and said no more. He took a deep breath, straighted his back, and walked into the estate with the posture of a victorious geral.


    As he gazed at the exquisitely manicured gards and the well dressed garders tding to the gre foliage, his thoughts drifted far away.


    No one will trample on my dignity and force me to smile in return!


    No one!

 Chapter 18: Chapter 18 Business

    Under the watchful and warning gaze of the butler, Julian and Graf stood outside the gates of the estate, expressionless. They waited for about t minutes before being told they could ter. For a wealthy magnate like Heidler, there was naturally a set of protocols to follow.


    This was not a stable and peaceful society; the turmoil following the d of the war continued, and the governmt''s reforms were worsing social order. So ev wh summoned by a great capitalist, there was a whole process to go through.


    After tering the gates, three stern looking m in suits approached them. They asked Julian and Graf to raise their hands and thoroughly searched their bodies. Once they confirmed that Julian wasn''t carrying any weapons and had confiscated Graf''s dagger, they were allowed to proceed.


    They walked down a long hallway and up to the second floor. In the easternmost room, they finally met Heidler.


    At that momt, Heidler appeared to be only about fifty years old. His hair was silver-gray, his face was smooth and wrinkle-free, , with a high nose and thin lips. He was in excellt health, his face glowing with vitality, suggesting that he might be ev older than Julian had estimated.


    He wore a very expsive, high d suit with silk fabric from the East, both sturdy and slightly reflective.


    His collar and cuffs were adorned with costly gemstones, and ev the buttons on his shirt were made of amethyst. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This was a very wealthy old man. The Imperial Chamber of Commerce had only thirty-six council seats, and these thirty-six individuals ruled over everything related to commerce and trade in the empire. From the small shops selling shoes on the street to the operation of steam locomotives, everything was under their control.


    Some joked that while these thirty-six people wer''t emperors, they wielded imperial power!


    Heidler was smiling. These big figures all had many masks, and you could never tell if they were wearing one. He gestured for Julian and Graf to sit, ev personally rising to pour them each a glass of gold, crystal-clear wine, placing the glasses in front of them. Julian and Graf both stood as a gesture of politess, unrelated to any personal grievances.


    However, while Graf bowed slightly, Julian''s back remained straight.


    "I arranged for you to be brought here because there are some things I want to discuss with you," Heidler said as he moved behind the table and gestured for them to sit, "I''m a Guar. I know what people say about my father, and I know how some of them slander me as well."


    He lifted his glass, took a sip, and raised it slightly. "Dwelling on the past will only keep you from seeing tomorrow. We should look forward, chasing the sun and light." §®???????.?¦¨?


    "The Guar people are suffering. The empire has always be wary of us, scattering us across the empire. Like grains of sand on a beach, we can never unite, and that''s why our conditions are so poor."


    He spread his hands slightly and leaned back into his luxurious, heavy chair. "It is our pride to be born as Guar. We should not succumb to the tricks of fate, just like we didn''t in the war of resistance. That was our glory."


    "I''ve heard that someone has established a fellowship association primarily for the Guar people. I was surprised¡ªit''s no simple feat, but you managed to do it."


    "Julian, may I call you that? What do you think should be the next step in the developmt of the Fellowship Association?"


    Heidler''s wealth didn''t just fall from the sky. After some flattering words, he began to evaluate the young leader of the Fellowship Association. If Julian''s ideas were sound, Heidler would recognize him as the leader. But if Julian saw the association as merely a toy or a game, Heidler would find a way to replace him with someone of his own. He needed a useful tool, not a toy.


    Anyone else might have found it difficult to come up with a plan and the right words to deal with Heidler in such a short time, especially since the birth of the Fellowship Association was more of a coincidce than a premeditated decision. But Julian wasn''t troubled by this. He had se and expericed far more in his dream than Heidler ever had.


    After a momt of silce, Julian gathered his thoughts and spoke sincerely, "Respected Mr. Heidler, I am deeply grateful for your interest in the Fellowship Association, a newly formed organization. I feel honored by your atttion and concern."


    "My initial idea for the Fellowship Association was simple: I wanted all Guar people to stand up and resist the unjust fate and treatmt we face. A single finger is easy to break¡­" Julian extded his right index finger and pressed it down on the table, "But wh the fingers unite, they form a fist¡ªa fist that can injure the emy."


    Heidler appreciated Julian''s metaphor, comparing fingers to the scattered Guar people and the fist to a united group. It was precisely what he needed. Nodding in approval, he gestured for Julian to continue.


    Julian withdrew his hand and wt on, "I''ve be working at the train station, as I''m sure you already know. During this short time, I joined the labor union. The union gave me a kind of unimaginable strgth. It was because the workers stood together that they had¡­," Julian paused and smiled apologetically, "I''m sorry, I forgot¡­"


    "No, please continue," Heidler said, despite being a capitalist himself. Speaking about challging capitalist authority in front of a capitalist was somewhat audacious.


    Julian took a deep breath and continued, "It was because the workers united that they gained the ability to challge the capitalists and break free from their cruel exploitation. We Guar are the same. The reason they began to respect us after our defeat in the war was that they were forced to acknowledge us and give us the respect we deserved."

 Chapter 19: Chapter 19 Acceleration Of The Plans

    "People like to talk about dignity, but dignity is not something others give you, nor is it something you are born with. All dignity, respect, and glory must be earned for oneself." As Julian spoke, Heidler''s eyes wided slightly. Everything Julian said resonated deeply with his own experices.


    If he hadn''t faced ups and downs, how could he have become a legd and earned the respect and hostility of the Ordinians?


    "Our first step is to truly become a family. All members should be brothers and sisters, and we must take care of everyone, fighting for their rights and interests."


    "Our second step is to make our voices heard in society, so all Ordinians, all other races, and the tire empire know that we are not silt victims, and the day will come wh we make our voices heard."


    "The third step is to expand our influce. The Fellowship Association should not be confined to a city like Ternell. It should spread across the nation, and ev the world! All Guar people are our brothers and sisters, and they should receive our care, befits, and support."


    "As for the rest¡­," Julian smiled awkwardly, "I hav''t thought that far ahead."


    Heidler raised his hand. "No, you''ve said ough! You''ve spok better than I could have imagined." He couldn''t help but stand, pacing behind the table. "You''ve said things much better than I expected. But have you thought about one issue¡ªwhat if the rise of the Guar people is met with insurmountable obstacles?"


    "As long as we have the desire and courage to climb, we can conquer any mountain!" Julian clched his fist, "If we counter an obstacle we can''t overcome¡­"


    "Th we''ll break it!"


    This conversation confirmed for Heidler that Julian and his Fellowship Association were worth investing in. For Heidler, the investmt was a small amount of money but could yield astonishing returns. Moreover, through this conversation, Heidler realized that Julian was ambitious and intelligt¡ªa good thing. Only ambitious people possess the drive to move forward and become valuable tools for him.


    As for how to control Julian and the Fellowship Association, Heidler already had a plan in mind.


    What do two poor young m running a fellowship association lack the most?


    Money!


    Heidler would invest funds to help the association grow. As the Fellowship Association expanded, its need for money would only increase. As long as they couldn''t sustain themselves financially, they would remain under Heidler''s control, serving his interests.


    If they ever tried to rebel, Heidler wouldn''t need to do much¡ªhe could simply cut off their funding, and the now-large Fellowship Association would turn on Julian and oust him.


    ???¦¥?§²??.?¦¨§®


    So Heidler wasn''t worried that the Fellowship Association''s growth would become a problem for him. On the contrary, he feared that it wouldn''t develop fast ough to serve his needs.


    This conversation created a clear opportunity for cooperation betwe the two sides.


    As Julian left Heidler''s estate, his pocket held 300 in cash, with another 700 to be delivered in three installmts over the next two months.


    Of course, all of this came with a condition: Julian could only receive the first installmt of 00 after showing visible progress in the Fellowship Association, such as gaining a significant number of members and forming a united, solid group. As long as he achieved this, the funds would be provided to support the association''s developmt.


    During the negotiations, Julian proactively suggested that the Fellowship Association should keep a detailed account of all the money spt¡ªwh and where it was used, whether it achieved the expected results, and any further issues to be addressed.


    Heidler agreed to this without hesitation, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, Julian, as the founder of the Fellowship Association, would always hold more authority than anyone else.


    Thus, rather than sding someone to compete with Julian for the leadership, Heidler preferred to use money to capture the Fellowship Association, gradually turning Julian into a puppet and a tool for his purposes. Knowing the power of capital, Heidler was quick to agree wh Julian brought up the idea of keeping financial records.


    However, what Heidler didn''t know was that Julian''s true inttion for founding the Fellowship Association was to recruit people for his own trading company. He had no interest in becoming the leader of some gang!


    But regardless, the unexpected windfall of 300 allowed Julian to accelerate his plans, without the need to continue raising funds.


    From the start, he had planned to use his trading company to purchase a batch of low alcohol wine from domestic and foreign distilleries. These low alcohol wines would serve as a cover for distillation and purification. Julian wouldn''t neglect the profits from the low alcohol wine, ev if they were modest.


    Graf had already contacted several suppliers. Julian had originally intded to wait until he had saved at least 0 before negotiating with them. Unexpectedly, Heidler''s intervtion had resolved the funding issue, covering the gap. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    By midday, Julian had Graf arrange a meeting with a businessman from the Free Federation. The almond-flavored low alcohol moonshine they produced was priced in the lower middle range of the market but had an alcohol contt of 8%, making it ideal for purification.


    The Free Federation lay to the southeast of the Star Empire, a country composed of provinces. It had adopted a republican system, governed by 50 sators in the upper house and five presidts of the sate. Their terms lasted four years, and each could serve up to two terms.


    However, if tsions escalated internationally during an election period, leading to immint war, or if the election coincided with an active war, the Special Emergcy Re-election Bill could be proposed by the lower house, allowing sators and presidts of the sate to run for a third term.


    If more than half of the sators or three presidts agreed to continue, a "Special Power Oversight Committee" would be formed by the lower house to monitor any corruption or abuse of power during the extded term.

 Chapter 20: Chapter 20 The Star Empire Situation

    The Free Federation was a country unlike the Star Empire, which was in the midst of reform. In the rectly concluded war, the Star Empire had won a bitter victory, while the Free Federation had achieved a major victory.


    This might seem confusing to many how could both countries claim victory in a war betwe them? The answer was not that complicated. For the Star Empire, victory meant defding their territory, suring that the invaders didn''t seize their land or slave their people, which was how they defined their victory in the war.


    However, for the Free Federation, although they hadn''t gained land or cheap labor, they had achieved an unprecedted economic breakthrough, particularly in tariffs and other matters still undocumted in the unofficial post war memorandum betwe the two nations.


    This bitter victory for the Star Empire led to widespread reflection across the empire. Once a mighty power, how had they be reduced to the point where they were bullied by a federation without ev a king or a pope? In the midst of this political turmoil, the empire''s various factions gradually coalesced a one idea:


    The emperor''s interferce during the war and the rampant class struggle had severely damaged what could have be a favorable situation. After the war, a new notion quickly took hold: the imperial system was outdated, and only a constitutional monarchy could save the Star Empire from the brink of collapse.


    The nobles, who had lost their imperial protection, the new reformers aspiring to become the country''s ruling class, the capitalists eager to influce politics, and the idealistic rebels seeking to change the world¡­


    These clearly defined groups were now performing a series of shocking political dramas on the brightest stage of the Star Empire.


    In such a situation, societal issues were naturally pushed aside by the powerful.


    For the capitalists of the Free Federation, the empire now stripped of some of its tariff powers had become a ripe opportunity. Goods of all kinds flowed across the border into the empire. With tax exemptions and ev refunds and subsidies, the Star Empire''s light and craft industries faced immse pressure, turning the empire into a playg for Federation merchants.


    Julian''s upcoming meeting was with one such merchant from the Federation.


    "You look very young. Forgive me for asking, but are you of legal age?" The blonde, forty something agt with a bushy brown beard looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. Julian indeed looked very young. The agt didn''t mind doing business with people of differt ages or backgs, but he was clearly surprised.


    Julian shrugged, casually lit a cigarette to make himself look a bit more mature, though it might have had the opposite effect. Flicking the ash with practiced ease, he replied, "I''m already sevte, Mr. Richard."


    Richard gave a noncommittal nod, a hint of nostalgia in his voice as he said, "Wh I was sevte, I was still working in a factory for a boss. But you, at sevte, already own your own trading company..." He shook his head with a smile. "Alright, let''s get down to business. I hear you want to purchase some low alcohol wine for resale, is that right?"


    §®??¦¥??£¤?.??§®


    Before Julian could answer, Richard continued, "Moonshine has a unique taste, differt from the common low alcohol wines on the market. Our wine has a slightly bitter almond flavor, not overly sweet like those juice like wines that can be cloying. With our Moonshine almond wine, you can easily drink five or six bottles."


    "More importantly, our price positioning is spot on. We target the mid market, so it''s affordable for everyone, while still leaving you ough room for profit."


    Julian nodded. He already knew all of this. What concerned him was the price. "Can we discuss the specific price, Mr. Richard? Our target is not just the city of Ternell, but the tire province, and perhaps ev the whole empire."


    After thinking for a momt, Richard quoted a price of 85 cts per bottle. As he had mtioned earlier, this price was in the middle of the low alcohol wine market. Cheaper wines could go for 55 or 60 cts a bottle, while more expsive ones could cost over a dollar. The 85 ct price was certainly well positioned, but it wasn''t a price Julian could accept. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Whether it was selling the wine directly or using it for distillation, the price was too high and awkward. To sure a profit, Julian would have to sell the wine at a dollar per bottle. Wh the bars put it on their shelves, they''d need to sure at least a 30 ct profit per bottle to make it worthwhile.


    Wh the wine reached the customers glasses, the price per glass would be a 30 cts.


    A mid range price like this created an awkward situation, which might explain why Moonshine hadn''t gained much traction in the empire so far. If customers wanted to drink something cheaper, they could get two glasses for the price of one. Heavy drinkers didn''t care about the quality of the wine they just wanted to get the most for their money. As for middle class customers?


    They''d rather spd an extra or 0 cts to drink something of higher quality.


    Someone who could afford to drink a 30 ct glass of wine wouldn''t mind paying an extra cts. What they cared about was prestige.


    This awkward price point made Moonshine an unpopular choice in bars, with sluggish sales.


    For distillation, it was ev less cost effective. It would take three bottles of Moonshine to distill one bottle of high proof alcohol, bringing the cost to about .50. Adding in the cost of fruit juice, labor, various losses, and the occasional bottle breakage during transport, the total cost would rise to a five or six dollars.


    Selling it to bars would yield only about a four dollar profit, with over a dollar of that going to Graf, leaving Julian with just over two dollars.


    Risking jail time for a business with only a 40% profit margin? That would be crazy!

 Chapter 21: Chapter 21 Negotiation

    "Your price is too high!" Julian''s remark nearly caused Mr. Richard''s eyes to pop out. In the over a year he had spt represting Moonshine in Ternell, it was the first time someone had told him that his goods were overpriced! He knew that bars had already decided to purchase the high quality almond wine priced at 85 cts a bottle, and no one had ever said his products were expsive!


    Looking at the remarkably young Julian, Richard wondered if this young man was guinely interested in doing business or if he had simply come to toy with him. Just as he was preparing to d this somewhat unpleasant negotiation, a single statemt from Julian made him sit back down in his chair.


    Julian simply extded a finger and said earnestly, "In six months, t thousand bottles!"


    Every successful businessman can quickly estimate their pottial revue and profit margins using mtal arithmetic. T thousand bottles meant 8,500, with roughly 30% profit. This deal could net Julian at least ,500!


    Is ,500 a lot?


    It could be considered both a lot and not much at all.


    For wealthy capitalists, ,500 was merely the price of a luxury car, the amount they might spd on a mistress for a year, or just the chips they would throw to cover their tourage after a gambling spree.


    To these capitalists, ,500 was nothing.


    But for the average person, it was money that would take twty years of frugality¡ªno food, no drink, no clothes¡ªto save up. However, by the time they managed to save ,500, its value would have changed significantly.


    For Richard, ,500 represted a business opportunity that could provide him with comfort for a while!


    He was convinced that if this deal could be maintained, it would become the most successful transaction of his life!


    Julian had just painted a grand vision for him. If Ternell could operate at such a scale, how much more could they achieve across the tire Star Empire?


    It was unimaginable!


    Before Richard could ev ask Julian wh he would need the t thousand bottles of Moonshine almond wine, and while he was considering how to slightly adjust the price, Julian stepped in first, saying, "I must be honest with you, integrity is the cornerstone of any successful businessman.


    Prior to our meeting, I gaged with four other wine suppliers¡ªsome from abroad and others from the Star Empire. Based on their quotations, your Moonshine lacks any competitive advantages." ?¡Ì????¦´?.???


    Richard maintained a neutral smile, but inside he was nervous. This deal was crucial for him. The inexplicable inability of Moonshine to petrate the market in the Star Empire had already raged the big bosses of the Free Federation. If he could make this deal work, he would not only pocket the profits but might also secure a better price for the goods.


    Additionally, if his established channels could be integrated into the company, he could transform from an agt into a managemt position.


    The cost of his almond wine was strictly a 60 cts. With the Free Federation''s commercial departmt and various guilds working behind the sces, they planned to turn the Star Empire into a dumping g for Free Federation products, flooding the market with high quality, affordable goods to dismantle the Empire''s light and craft industries and cause an economic collapse.


    Thus, ev selling to this young man named Julian at a cost of 60 cts would still yield Richard a profit.


    Because the Free Federation offered subsidies, the more he sold, the more support he received.


    On one hand, there were personal gains; on the other, there was a promising future. Richard quickly settled on a psychological price point of 65 cts. He believed that under equal quality conditions, no one could offer a better price than his.


    Of course, while he had a psychological price, if he could negotiate a higher price, that would be ev better. So, with a smile, he asked, "I''m curious¡ªwhat prices have others offered you that made you feel my goods were ''expsive''?"


    Julian spread his hands, revealing a slightly regretful expression, as if he had already decided to forgo any pottial trade. He sighed, "There are offers at 40 and 50 cts, with a maximum of 6 cts."


    Upon hearing this, Richard felt a sharp pang of irritation. He forced a smile and said, "If I price it at that range, I won''t make a pny. Besides, Mr. Julian, you should understand that Moonshine almond wine is absolutely superior to what those other merchants provide."


    "But, sir, people are unlikely to distinguish betwe a slightly higher or lower alcohol contt based solely on taste. As you said, quality is certainly important, but the audice is more crucial. Wom don''t prefer wines with a hint of bitterness; it''s primarily adult males who do."


    Julian stood up, straighted his clothes, and extded his hand. "While I truly hope to collaborate with you to distribute this higher quality wine, you know, whether it''s about price or audice, unless you can meet my requiremts in any capacity, I cannot commit to signing an agreemt with you."


    Richard reluctantly stood up, shaking Julian''s hand. He desperately wanted to say he could lower the price, but he knew now was not the right momt. Having just declared a price deemed too high, he wouldn''t want to appear as if he were backpedaling. It would be better to wait two or three days before contacting Julian again, making the proposal seem more sincere.


    After watching Julian leave, Richard began arranging for his m to investigate Julian''s company and his financial capacity while simultaneously preparing to source goods from within the Free Federation. Their warehouse had only over ,000 bottles left, most of which had be there since the previous year and hadn''t sold out yet! S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Once he was a little further away from Richard, Graf scratched his head, wearing an expression that suggested he wanted to ask something but didn''t dare.

 Chapter 22: Chapter 22 Market Share

    "What do you want to ask?"


    Graf chuckled, "Are we really going to buy t thousand bottles? We don''t have that much money, and Mr. Heidler said the funds would be giv in installmts, so we might not make it in time."


    Julian pulled out a complete roll of cigarettes from his pack Lion brand, twelve cts a pack and lit one, hoping it would make him appear a bit more mature, though it might have the opposite effect. He flicked the ash with practiced ease and said casually, "Sometimes you don''t need to pay to buy something; sometimes, they''ll ev pay us!"


    Graf looked bewildered. Not having to pay for something while also making money? What kind of scheme was that? A chill ran down his spine, and he began to look at Julian with slightly differt eyes.


    Julian knew he couldn''t explain this to someone like Graf, who seemed to have muscles for brains, so he didn''t continue the conversation. Next, they met with four more suppliers. The process was largely the same as the discussion with Richard. In short, ev if someone quoted a price of 50 cts per bottle, Julian would still frown and declare it too expsive.


    Perhaps the negotiation with Richard had helped him find his footing, as he decided to raise the order from t thousand bottles to fifty thousand bottles per year!


    If t thousand bottles would still allow Richard to save face and appear to be a successful businessman, th fifty thousand would turn the other four suppliers into eager dogs, wagging their tails a him. This deal would be equivalt to a year''s worth of business, and they would fight tooth and nail to secure it.


    Julian swiftly painted an ticing picture for these suppliers. By eving, he hadn''t ev returned home wh Richard unexpectedly appeared while Julian and Graf were having corn chowder and grilled meat at a small roadside restaurant.


    This couldn''t be blamed on him. He had his m investigate Julian''s company while keeping tabs on whether he had met with other suppliers. Wh his m reported that they had accidtally overheard Julian requesting fifty thousand bottles a year, Richard could no longer sit idly.


    He didn''t understand the saying that "delays can lead to changes," but his instincts as a businessman told him that if he didn''t seize the opportunity, this big fish might slip through his fingers.


    Though he found it a bit odd that Julian would be dining in a regular small restaurant, Richard didn''t think much about it. The situation in the Star Empire was still very chaotic, and Ternell was a small border town. Only a few luxury restaurants were exclusive to local elites. So, Richard quickly rationalized Julian''s somewhat odd behavior, coming up with a reasonable excuse for himself.


    Feigning a chance counter, he expressed his surprise so dramatically that ev Graf muttered under his breath. "What a coincidce! May I join you?"


    Julian nodded and tilted his head toward Graf, who rolled his eyes and took his plate to sit at a nearby table.


    Richard casually ordered something to eat and said eagerly, "After you left, I thought about it for a long time. I believe we should try to establish a solid partnership, don''t you think? Look, I have everything you need, and my prices will definitely satisfy you. That''s a solid foundation for cooperation, wouldn''t you agree?"


    ??¨N¦®????.??? sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian set down his spoon, wiped his mouth with a somewhat frayed napkin, and said, "Mr. Richard, let me put it this way: I cannot accept your price¡­"


    Richard, eager and somewhat rude, interrupted Julian, "No, no, list to me! Fate has brought us together; we should become frids. Price? That''s not a problem¡ªhow about 60 cts per bottle?"


    If Julian still hadn''t realized what was happing at this point, he would have be truly foolish.


    He smiled at the somewhat anxious Richard, chuckling lightly.


    Julian pushed the plate in front of him away and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he looked at Richard. "Mr. Richard, I don''t know where you learned about the prices from my other suppliers, whether they told you or if you overheard it by chance; it doesn''t matter.


    A large order of fifty thousand bottles a year was right before him. Forget about Julian mocking him a few times; he could ev smile if slapped.


    Selling one item for a profit of t thousand dollars versus selling fifty thousand items for a profit of five thousand dollars might seem like the former offers greater returns. However, any wise businessman would choose the latter.


    Among capitalists, there''s a saying: "Unrefined traders sell products. Inferior businessm sell brands. Superior strategists sell markets." This saying reflects the evolution of business focus. Small traders seek profits from individual products, while slightly higher-level merchants emphasize brand value, recognizing that a strong brand can surpass the profit of any single product.


    Take moonshine brand almond liquor as an example. A manufacturer might profit thirty perct per bottle, yielding a thirty million dollars for a hundred million bottles sold. However, the value of the brand itself could exceed fifty million and continue to rise as production and sales channels improve, far outpacing the product''s intrinsic value.


    At the highest level, merchants focus on market control. While others focus on profit margins and branding, these strategists target market share. Just one perct of a large market can gerate millions in revue.


    Richard understood this principle. Wh Julian''s demand for moonshine almond liquor rose from t thousand to fifty thousand bottles, Richard saw an opportunity. In the Ternell beverage market, fifty thousand bottles could represt a t to twty perct market share.


    What does an increase in market share mean?


    It signifies absolute control over a product, a brand, and a company within the market! No matter what new varieties of liquor moonshine brand launches in the future, they can quickly convert their market share into consumer power. Ev if they were selling the worst drink, during the decline in market share, they would still rake in a fortune!


    An increase in market share means more than just higher sales; it''s about control. Ev with new or less popular products, a dominant position allows the brand to convert market presce into consumer power. This wasn''t just about selling liquor; it was about seizing an opportunity for the future.

 Chapter 23: Chapter 23 Miraculous Operation

    In response to Julian''s sarcasm, Richard''s smile remained unchanged on his face. Perhaps it did, but that smile only grew more humble.


    He lowered his head, took out a small iron box from his pocket, which contained a pack of ninety eight ct cigarettes, considered the best available in Ternell City. He handed the pack over, and after Julian accepted it, he imitated Mr. Kasma''s manner, sniffing under his nose before placing it in his mouth. Richard quickly took out his customized lighter, lit it, and brought it closer.


    After taking two puffs and exhaling a cloud of smoke, Julian said with a half smile, "I have already signed a letter of intt with two of them. They offered me a better price and ev promised to customize the shape and label of the liquor I need.


    Richard thought seriously, calculating. In fact, glass is not expsive; on the contrary, it is very cheap. Over a hundred years ago, glass was considered a luxury second only to gemstones, controlled by a select few merchants.


    However, after the world war began, wh a burning bomb fell on the beach and created a layer of crystal, glass has evolved and developed over the past hundred years to become so inexpsive that it can be overlooked.


    Labels are also not costly; you can print five for a pny. Including typesetting and plate costs, the maximum cost for customizing a bottle and label for each bottle of liquor is only a pny increase.


    After hesitating and contemplating for about half a minute, he finally spoke up, somewhat cautiously asking, "Is it because of the palty clause?"


    Julian nodded. "That''s right. There are two letters of intt: one for sev hundred star dollars and one for one thousand star dollars. It''s precisely because of these agreemts that I can''t continue working with you. After all, these palties are not a small sum, don''t you think?


    For a momt, Julian''s words plunged Richard into confusion.


    He understood that if he signed the letter of intt and agreed to the palty clause, and if Julian breached the contract, he would lose one thousand sev hundred dollars at once. However, facing a massive market share right before him made it hard to resist, stirring him up like a cat scratching at his skin.


    He considered whether Julian could sell this batch of liquor, but he soon brushed that thought aside.


    Ev if he bought it and hid it away without selling, it would only be a business with little profit for Richard. But what if he could sell it?


    That would be a big deal, a long term and increasingly larger business!


    Either way, he wouldn''t lose money; why not take a gamble?


    Thinking about how he had spt over a year in this damn rural city, unable to ev cover transportation and daily expses, and how just a step forward meant a massive market and profit, the merchant''s nature finally exploded.


    Doing business as a merchant is actually quite similar to gambling; you idtify a promising vture, invest, and manage it. Ultimately, aside from the controllable efforts in the middle, the key factor lies in the foresight wh initially choosing the investmt direction. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At this momt, he had made a decision. He bit down hard, discreetly pinching his thigh under the table, almost crying out from the pain. He took a deep breath and sincerely said, "We are frids, Mr. Julian. Let''s do it! ???¦®§®?£¤?.?¦¨?


    Gasping, he looked at Julian, this time truly determined. For a bottle of almond liquor, the Free Federation''s liquor trade union and the national commerce departmt would subsidize him two cts. The cost was forty five cts, and transportation would take about three cts, meaning that selling a bottle to Julian would only earn him twelve cts.


    He still had to bear the losses incurred during transportation, as well as storage and labor costs.


    The net profit for one bottle of liquor was just over nine cts!


    The profit from fifty thousand bottles would only amount to five thousand dollars, yet he had to pay a palty of one thousand sev hundred dollars upfront. It was quite painful to consider. But he quickly thought that as long as the sales volume of moonshine brand almond liquor oped up, it would lead to an dless stream of money, more money.


    Moreover, he wouldn''t need to create the channel, with Julian holding fifty thousand bottles, he would certainly be more eager to expand the channel than Richard himself, which meant he would earn a huge amount.


    If almond liquor sales succeeded, he could ev bypass Julian and trade directly with the d retailers.


    At that time, the lost profits would not only be made up for at once but could also yield substantial gains!


    For the sake of future hopes, what was this little expse now?


    It''s all in!


    With Richard''s words, Julian finally displayed a sincere smile, tightly clasping his hands together. He ordered two cups of twty ct fruit wine and raised his glass, "Here''s to our terprise shining like the sun, illuminating all things!"


    Richard soon left, leaving behind an velope containing one thousand sev hundred dollars. Watching this good man gradually walk away, Julian shrugged and tucked the velope into his pocket.


    Graf had be dumbfounded for a while, staring at Julian, completely unaware that the thick soup was dripping onto the g.


    What kind of operation was this?


    Buying things without paying and still receiving a sum of money first?


    Graf felt that the world he knew before must be a fake one. However, what left him ev more unsettled was Julian saying that the other four suppliers would also give him a sum of money.


    At that momt, Graf suddly thought selling liquor wasn''t that good; he might as well continue playing this miraculous trick. With so many provinces, cities, and towns across the country, perhaps he wouldn''t ev have to do anything and would already be worth millions!

 Chapter 24: Chapter 24 Looking For A Good Location For The Factory

    In Julian''s dreams, he had once witnessed an astonishing contractual maneuver that still left him impressed to this day. That guy had managed to swindle over a hundred million and th disappeared. Regardless of whether the person was good or bad, or whether what he did was right or wrong, his method and strategic thinking were nothing short of brilliant. And his boldness!


    With not a pny to his name, relying only on his words and his plan, he was able to deceive people out of hundreds of millions. A true talt!


    Julian only borrowed a small part of this grand scheme¡ªthe part about "turning nothing into something." He had no inttion of becoming a fraudster or fleeing the country, so he didn''t plan to follow through with the tire operation.


    After acquiring ,700 dollars and a brand new letter of intt, Julian quickly approached four more liquor suppliers the next morning. This meeting was far more credible than the last one, after all, the agreemt was guine. The documt clearly stated that the moonshine brand had appointed an agt in Ternell City, with Richard''s signature and address.


    It would only take asking a few people to confirm that the letter of intt was legitimate, and no one would dare forge something like this.


    Two of the suppliers were unwilling to take on such a large risk and withdrew voluntarily. That left two foreign suppliers who, like Richard, were ready to gamble. From them, Julian obtained new letters of intt and two more advance deposits, bringing his total to 5,000 dollars.


    What could 5,000 dollars do?


    While Julian was thinking about his next steps, Graf, sitting nearby, was pondering the same question. Five thousand dollars could buy a doz storefronts, allowing someone to live a life of ease and leisure. It could buy a large house, an upscale car, and still leave some money for a small business. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With any of these choices, having 5,000 dollars meant that one wouldn''t have to worry about a bad ding to their life.


    That was five thousand dollars!


    But soon, Graf became nervous. What Julian was attempting this time was too big, so big that Graf''s heart kept racing. This was a deal for 50,000 bottles of liquor! That came to nearly 0,000 dollars! Yet Julian only had 5,000 dollars. What now?


    Should they run? Where could they run to?


    Graf glanced anxiously at Julian, thinking that such complex matters were better left for a smart person to figure out.


    From Julian''s perspective, Graf''s concerns were nothing more than gless fear. Yes, Julian needed to buy 50,000 bottles of liquor within a year, which would indeed require about 90,000 dollars. But the liquor wouldn''t be delivered to him all at once, and his paymt wouldn''t be a lump sum either.


    To put it simply, as a major clit, Julian was fully justified in paying an initial deposit for % of the price for the first ,000 bottles.


    Once he sold all that liquor, he would pay the full amount for the first ,000 bottles, th repeat the process¡ªpaying another deposit and selling more liquor, settling accounts only after the sales were complete. This method minimized the pressure on his cash flow. ?¡Ì???§²??.?§°§®


    The combined deposits for the three suppliers, totaling 30,000 bottles, would only cost a ,000 dollars, leaving Julian with 3,000 dollars on hand. The real challge for him would be finding a place to store so much liquor and a facility capable of large scale distillation.


    Using small iron pots for distillation was no longer practical. He would need to hire a blacksmith to craft a much larger distillation apparatus, which would cost at least ,000 dollars. He also needed a secluded, hidd location that was difficult to discover, yet still reasonably convit for transportation, where he could convert low proof liquor into high proof liquor.


    Just rting a warehouse for a year would cost 300 to 500 dollars. After rovations and modifications, he would likely have little money left.


    None of this was easy.


    Over the next few days, Julian broke down all these tasks into indepdt projects and assigned them to Graf, who would work with members of the Fellowship association to carry them out. Julian himself wt ahead and registered a new company.


    The newly registered "Ternell Leather Goods (Bags) Company" was a fallback in case money became tight. If necessary, he could use fraudult means to secure a loan from a bank, or ev transfer assets wh needed. But unless it was absolutely necessary, he had no inttion of using this company.


    As the young members of the Fellowship association began appearing on the streets in their new clothes and dect shoes, they attracted the curiosity of other young people. The Guartans lived hard lives, and everyone wanted new clothes and a full stomach. With this in mind, more young people joined the association after hearing about it. Mr.


    Heidler''s 00 dollars, which arrived almost five days early, helped alleviate Julian''s dwindling funds just in time.


    Coincidtally, they had also found a good location for a factory.


    Ternell was a border town, with dless fields and pastures stretching out beyond the suburbs. After several locations were rejected by Julian, Graf wt outside the city to search for a suitable place and, surprisingly, found one.


    An old, rundown ranch.


    Due to mismanagemt and the governmt''s wartime efforts to suppress skyrocketing food prices, a large number of cattle had be forcibly purchased by officials at extremely low prices. The ranch owner, having lost money, had borrowed funds to buy calves in hopes of raising them and recouping his losses. However, after two years, the situation had not improved, and debt collectors came knocking.


    With no sign of the ranch owner, the creditors took the cattle as repaymt, leaving the rancher completely ruined.


    The creditors, who were ruthless, had threated that if he didn''t repay his debt, they would sell his female family members to brothels. Fearing for the destruction of his family, the rancher put his property up for sale.


    He had no interest in maintaining the ranch. Weeds grew wildly, and the buildings were falling apart from neglect, scaring off any pottial investors.

 Chapter 25: Chapter 25 The Rundown Ranch

    Buying a ranch and rebuilding it wasn''t a great investmt for anyone looking for short term profits. It was cheaper to just buy empty land.


    And so the ranch sat abandoned.


    That is, until Graf brought Julian there.


    "It''s pretty desolate!" Julian remarked as he looked at the waist high weeds, but in truth, he was very satisfied with the place.


    The ranch was next to a country road, and although the road conditions wer''t ideal, transportation wasn''t an issue. The location was secluded, sured by a few fields and barr land. It was so isolated that they hadn''t se a single person for half a day. The overgrown weeds made it ev more unlikely that anyone would come here without a specific reason.


    During distillation, some alcohol vapor would inevitably escape from the still, and if the strong sct lingered in a populated area, it could cause trouble. Without a proper licse, any report would lead to a shutdown.


    The only problem now was that the dilapidated buildings couldn''t be used. They would need to be rebuilt, which was an additional expse. Fortunately, Mr. Heidler''s second paymt arrived just in time, or Julian would have had to resort to means he didn''t want to use to raise cash.


    As they walked along a small path toward the rancher''s house, Julian asked, "How much debt does this guy owe? And what''s his asking price?"


    Graf, clearing the way ahead, replied, "I heard he owes ,00 dollars, and he''s asking for 3,000."


    Julian frowned. After accounting for other expses and Heidler''s money, he still had a shortfall of about 500 dollars. Realistically, he was facing a gap of ,000 dollars, since he couldn''t leave himself without any emergcy funds. He would need to keep at least 300 to 500 dollars on hand. Raising that ,000 dollars in a short time wouldn''t be easy, but he would take it one step at a time.


    The two of them, along with two members of the Fellowship association, visited the rancher''s house.


    A woman in her thirties oped the door. She had blonde hair a clear sign of her Ordinians heritage. She had a dect figure and was fairly attractive, which explained why the creditors had threated to sell her. Wom like her, especially with blonde hair, were highly sought after in tertainmt establishmts.


    The Ordinians people had a certain nationalist arrogance, looking down on other "lesser races." So ev in such establishmts, customers who wanted intimate counters would prefer Ordinians wom.


    Others, who had be oppressed or scorned by the Ordinians people, would also likely choose an Ordinians woman for a night of indulgce, as if conquering them somehow alleviated their own restmt.


    If the woman had a daughter, the price would probably double!


    The woman eyed the visitors cautiously through the crack in the door, her gaze lingering on Graf, instinctively assuming that if this group was trouble, Graf would be the worst of them.


    ???¦¥??¦´?.§³?? Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian stepped forward with a fridly smile, "Good afternoon, ma''am. My name is Julian. I''ve come to inquire about the ranch. I heard it''s for sale, is that right?"


    The woman hesitated, th nodded. Her shoulder moved slightly behind the door, and the sound of footsteps could be faintly heard moving away.


    Sure ough, after about twty seconds, heavy footsteps approached. The woman stepped aside, revealing a man. His gold brown hair and beard indicated that he was of mixed race, likely part Ordinians. He looked tired, with a weary expression. He peered through the door at the four visitors, his gaze finally resting on Graf.


    "Are you here to buy the ranch?" he asked.


    Graf felt a bit awkward. The wom looked at him with wary eyes, while the m regarded him with a hint of hope. The problem was, he was not the one who could make decisions. So he took a step back, highlighting Julian''s status, and said, "This is our boss."


    The man''s face clearly displayed an expression of skepticism, but his eyes brighted. In this capital driv world, if a young person claimed to want to buy something valuable, there were only two possibilities.


    He was either a con artist or he was a decdt of a wealthy family.


    It was unlikely that someone could afford to hire a young man like Graf, who had a threating appearance, if he were merely a con artist. Moreover, ev if he were a con artist, there was nothing here that could catch his interest.


    Just like those traders who had previously inquired about prices, the high selling prices had dissuaded them; they would be better off buying empty land rather than overpaying for this desolate ranch.


    Of course, empty land was indeed cheaper, but there was a small problem: time.


    Buying land wasn''t a simple matter. Since a ranch tycoon had crazily closed land, causing public outrage, the Empire had become extremely cautious about selling land and imposed many formalities.


    For example, if one wanted to buy a piece of empty land for developing a ranch or farmland, they first had to get approval from the "Star Empire Land Use Office." From submission to approval, if everything wt smoothly, it would take about twty days.


    Th, they would need to seek the votes of suring farmers, herders, and a few city residts for const; a sixty perct approval rate was required to proceed to the next step.


    To buy a piece of empty land, regardless of the purpose, from initiation to completion would take no less than two to three months. This was also why Julian chose to come here, knowing that empty land was cheaper.


    He couldn''t wait that long otherwise, those three suppliers would go crazy, and he might ev be sued for fraud.


    The man''s expression relaxed a bit as he unlocked the door from the inside and oped it. "Welcome! Regardless of whether we can come to a satisfactory conclusion, I welcome you."

 Chapter 26: Chapter 26 Negotiation

    He stepped aside, and Graf, along with two members of the local association, stood outside the door. It would be pointless for them to ter; rather, it might affect Julian''s upcoming negotiations, so Graf wisely avoided such a situation by not going in.


    Julian followed the man inside the storage area. A woman stood aside, embracing a girl with gold brown hair, her eyes filled with longing as she gazed at Julian.


    They were desperate, having be driv into a corner by debt. In the spring of the previous year, they borrowed eight hundred dollars from a man named Morris in town to buy sixty calves and some necessities.


    Unexpectedly, in just two years, the eight hundred dollars had grown to three thousand. Rectly, they had to sell the sixty calves, which might fetch two thousand dollars, only to cover the principal of eight hundred dollars and two thousand two hundred dollars in interest. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    They could no longer produce ev a pny; they were at the d of their rope. The other party had threated that if they could not gather the money by the d of the month, they would harm the wom at home.


    After countering several waves of businessm who came and left, the family had already fall into despair. The man had resolved to die. If the other party truly meant to act, he would definitely retaliate. Killing one or two, and th the whole family would leave together.


    Just as he was at his lowest point, he unexpectedly countered a new twist.


    "My name is Hu," the man said, pouring a cup of inferior fruit wine for Julian. Gerally, the farmers and herders in the countryside oft brewed low quality alcohol themselves; whether it tasted good was unimportant, as it was one of their few pastimes.


    Julian raised his hand slightly to signal for the wine jug to be set down. Hu put the jug down, his hands nervously clasped together, fingers fidgeting, mirroring his anxious heart. "Actually... I know that this price won''t satisfy anyone, but it''s the last thing we can sell."


    He just nodded to indicate his understanding, and the man showed an expression of agreemt, bitterly smiling as he asked, "How much can you offer?"


    Julian didn''t state any price but instead asked, "Can you tell me about that guy named Morris?"


    The man looked puzzled, but this might be his family''s last chance; whether it was a straw or something else, he had to seize it. "Morris is a local businessman who runs a deli at the corner of Sevth Avue. He has some underlings who specifically ''help'' people in urgt need of money."


    From Hu''s description, Julian felt that this guy named Morris wasn''t too unscrupulous. The eight hundred dollars had turned into three thousand over two years; this kind of conscitious lder was guinely "helping" those in financial distress. In Julian''s dream, those financial companies were the real sharks, turning a hundred dollars into millions in just two years.


    If anyone was unlucky, it was just that Hu had chos the wrong investmt direction. ?¡Ì?§¦?§²??.§³?§®


    Of course, all this had nothing to do with him. He raised the cup to sip the slightly astringt fruit wine, which didn''t taste very good, before slowly putting it down. "Mr. Hu, I think I understand. If I decide to buy your farm, you are certain you will pay Morris?"


    He took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and slowly said, "I don''t want to be involved in any troubles."


    Hu nodded vigorously. "Of course, sir, I also want to d this as soon as possible and return to my hometown to start a new life." Hu''s eyes sparkled; he had now realized that Julian was very likely to buy his farm, which was excellt news for him.


    Once he was freed from heavy debts and had a bit of money in hand, he could completely go to another city to become a carpter or start farming or herding on some empty land.


    Julian pondered for a momt and said, "Out of sympathy for your situation, I''ll offer you a maximum of one thousand eight hundred dollars." At this momt, Hu''s face suddly changed. As he was about to say something, Julian raised his hand to stop him.


    "If buying a piece of empty land of the same size as your ranch would cost only one thousand five hundred dollars, you should also understand that due to your neglect in managemt and repairs, your ranch is hardly differt from empty land."


    "I''ll use the extra three hundred dollars to buy two months for the approval process. To put it simply, you''ve made a profit, after all; no job can earn you and your family three hundred dollars in just two months."


    Seeing Julian fall silt, Hu quickly interjected, "But I owe Morris two thousand two hundred dollars, and we''ll need transportation fees to leave here; starting a new life requires some money¡­"


    Julian chuckled and shook his head. "You''ve misunderstood something, sir. The money you owe Morris is your debt to him, not mine. I only need this farm, not to pay your debts or give you extra money to start a new life. If you''re willing to sell this ranch for one thousand eight hundred dollars, you can find me at 7 Que Avue."


    As Julian was about to leave, Hu''s hands slowly formed fists, his arms trembling. Just as Julian had one foot out the door, he suddly stood up and shouted, "Wait!" Wh Julian turned back in confusion, Hu took a deep breath to steady his trembling voice. "I want to discuss it with my wife."


    "No problem. I''ll wait outside for a bit; you have five minutes."


    As the door slowly closed, sealing the gap, Hu''s wife and daughter walked over from the adjact dining area. The woman wore a worried expression; the real reason Hu had tried to keep Julian was that Julian''s price was already the highest among those who had inquired.


    Before Julian arrived, the highest offer had be only one thousand six hundred, with many others bidding betwe one thousand two hundred and one thousand four hundred.

 Chapter 27: Chapter 27 An Act Of Kindness

    They had calculated that Hu was in urgt need of money to save his family, taking advantage of his plight to try to buy this ranch, which spanned four hundred eighty acres, at an extremely low price!


    As for what would happ with the remaining money after selling the land, it was not something those businessm considered.


    Just as Julian said, they were all businessm, not philanthropists. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "What should we do?" Hu''s wife leaned against him, holding their daughter. The ormous interest had pushed the woman to the brink of collapse. If they couldn''t gather ough money by the d of the month, she would choose to commit suicide to protect her dignity. Of course, she would take their daughter with her, suring her child wouldn''t have to suffer in this world any longer.


    Ev Hu had made a resolution to die before Julian arrived.


    But hope had unexpectedly appeared, bringing a sudd change to the desperate family that was prepared to gamble their lives. One thousand eight hundred dollars was only four hundred dollars short of the two thousand two hundred they owed. Four hundred dollars was indeed a lot, but it didn''t mean there was no way out.


    The daughter looked at her sorrowful parts and suddly asked, "Why can''t we sell it twice?"


    Before Hu could react to what she said, his wife quickly crouched down and tightly grasped their daughter''s shoulders, asking, "Did you just say we could sell it twice? Am I hearing you right? Selling it twice?"


    The daughter nodded and recounted the evts that had happed at her school in rect days.


    In her rural school, there was a classmate who came from a dect family and loved to read comics. This classmate oft sold the comics he had read at depreciated prices to other studts and would use the money to buy new comics.


    A couple of days ago, this classmate was called away by a teacher, and later everyone learned that he had promised to sell a comic to Studt A but lost the money for the comic on his way home.


    The classmate who suffered the loss was unwilling to lose both the money and the comic, so he secretly sold the comic to Studt B instead...


    Hu and his wife exchanged glances, falling into a long silce...


    ...


    ??????¦´?.??§®


    "Did you reach an agreemt?" Seeing Julian walk out, Graf immediately stood up straight from where he was leaning against the doorpost. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and handed it to Julian, lighting it for him.


    Julian took a puff, shook his head, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. With confidce, he said, "Not yet, but they will agree!"


    It was not surprising for him to have such a conjecture. Through simple descriptions from Hu, Julian had already formed a preliminary understanding of the kind hearted person named Morris. He was a guy who wouldn''t ld money without demanding high interest; in other words, the loan sharks in this society had not yet sunk to the point of being irredeemable.


    Morris was a gang member who also employed some thugs.


    Their task was to provide sufficit funds for the gang''s developmt. Of course, it was possible that this business belonged to Morris himself. But regardless of the details, Hu absolutely dared not default on the money he owed. Otherwise, wh Morris previously took his cattle, he would have stood up and confronted him.


    He feared Morris to the extt that ev if his own interests were infringed upon, he did not dare to complain. People like him might say some harsh words or have some resolute thoughts under ormous pressure, but that was merely their wishful thinking. If we were to describe such people in dream like terms, they would be deemed cowardly.


    Julian did not dare to claim that he was their only savior. Eighte hundred dollars was indeed still short of two thousand two hundred. However, this gap offered them sufficit hope. Was four hundred dollars a lot? If they worked honestly, it might take two years to gather that amount, and all three of them would need reasonably good jobs.


    But if they were not honest in their earnings and took a few shortcuts, it was certainly possible to gather that four hundred dollars in a short time.


    Hu now faced such a choice: either sell the ranch to Julian and find a way to make up the four hundred dollars, or cling to the ranch and die with his family, after which Julian would buy the ranch back from Morris at a relatively low price. Why inquire about whom Hu owed money to? Wasn''t it just to sure that after this family perished, he could find a new owner for the ranch to buy it?


    Moreover, Julian believed that ev if he offered sixte hundred dollars, Morris would not refuse, because Morris was a loan shark, not some foundation, and did not gage in risk averse investmts. What he needed was money cash immediately usable for trading!


    Before long, the door of the house oped from the inside, and Hu stepped out, looking haggard. He gazed at Julian with a complicated expression and sighed, "You win, sir. Eighte hundred dollars. I''ll sell it to you. Wh can we get the money?"


    Julian took the cigarette from his mouth, threw it to the g, crushed it with his foot, and extded his hand, saying, "Pleasure doing business. Tomorrow, bring the proof to the city. Once the paperwork is completed, you can get your money. For now, I won''t disturb your rest. Farewell!"


    Julian nodded and left with a smile. A premium of three hundred dollars exchanged for a time advantage was quite a profitable deal. As for how Hu and his family would gather the remaining four hundred dollars after selling the house tomorrow, that was no longer a concern for Julian.


    Upon returning to the city, three suppliers informed him through a messger that their first batch of t thousand bottles of wine would be shipped here in a week, and they hoped he would be ready to receive the goods.

 Chapter 28: Chapter 28 Something Is Wrong

    Early the next morning, Hu came to Julian, who had just awaked, with proof of ownership for his farm. The two wt to the "Land Use Office" in Ternell City to complete the transfer registration for the land asset.


    The process was not complicated, both parties signed a sale and transfer contract, confirming that Hu was selling his farm to Julian for eighte hundred dollars, and they both signed and stamped their fingerprints. Once each party had a copy of the documt and the Land Use Office had filed their copy, the land belonged to Julian.


    He handed eighte hundred dollars to Hu and had him sign a receipt.


    Watching Hu quickly leave the office, Julian beckoned with his finger, and immediately a young man dressed in a shirt and suspders, wearing a checkered flat cap, ran over. This young man had fair skin, thick eyebrows, and big eyes, looking quite handsome. His name was Dave, a sprightly lad and a member of the local community association.


    He lowered his head and stood behind Julian on his right side. "Presidt?"


    Julian nodded and lifted his chin. "Take a few people to keep an eye on him. See where he goes. If he goes to find that guy named Morris, come back. If he goes straight outside the city, capture him and sd him to Morris. Tell Morris he''s got money now." S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The purpose of this was to prevt Hu from running away after receiving the money. Julian could easily imagine that once Morris discovered his two thousand two hundred dollars were missing, in his anger and despair, he would certainly blame Julian for it.


    Although the complete paperwork could prove that he had bought the ranch from Hu, Morris would not hesitate to extort Julian to recover his losses.


    Julian was not afraid of trouble, but that did not mean he was willing to actively seek it out, so it was better to keep an eye on things.


    Dave stepped outside and whistled, and immediately four or five young m of similar age and attire approached. Passersby occasionally shot them disdainful looks. If it wer''t for the knives poking out of their pockets as they walked, silcing everyone, someone would have probably scolded them by now. The excitemt on these young m''s faces suggested they believed they were doing something great.


    They followed closely behind Hu, tracking him to Sevth Street, where he tered a familiar deli.


    "Dave, is our task just to follow him?" one of his companions asked.


    Dave was relatively well known among the local youth, having served time in juvile prison for a year due to assault. He had stabbed a drunk man attempting to assault his sister thirty times, nearly killing him. If not for the circumstances and Mr. Heidler hiring a lawyer for him, he might not have be released for elev years, let alone one.


    That drunk man had survived at first, but died days later from organ failure.


    Thus, Dave held significant sway among his peers, and everyone followed his lead.


    He nodded, saying, "The presidt ordered me to keep an eye on him. If he meets Morris, we''ll return. If he goes directly out of town, we''ll grab him." ?¡Ì¨N¦®??£¤?.?¦¨?


    As he spoke, Hu emerged from the deli in under five minutes, which seemed a bit too quick. Dave straighted up, tilted his head to his companions, and said, "Something''s not right. You all stay here and keep an eye on him.


    I''ll go see if Morris is a." His companions didn''t know how Dave intded to check if Morris was there, but they had an inexplicable trust in him, so they immediately vowed to watch Hu closely.


    After arranging things, Dave walked a few steps down the sidewalk, oped the mailbox in front of a house, pulled out an velope, and ran back toward the deli.


    Upon tering the deli, Dave glanced at the room''s layout. Behind a counter selling smoked meats and hams, there was only one door. He lowered his flat cap a bit and walked toward it.


    At that momt, someone blocked his way. "Hey, kid, don''t wander a!"


    Dave raised the velope in his hand. "Someone st me here to deliver a letter to a gtleman named Morris."


    The deli employee, who had stopped him, reached out to grab it, but Dave dodged backward, avoiding his hand. "That won''t do, sir. The person who st me said it must be handed to Mr. Morris himself, and he would also give me t cts!"


    If Dave had only said the first half, the employee would have insisted on taking it. But wh Dave mtioned the t ct reward, the employee withdrew his hand and cleared a path. "Turn left wh you go in, the last room is it. Don''t steal anything, and don''t wander a!"


    Dave smiled, nodded, and walked in. "I''m not a thief!"


    Once inside, he looked a. To the right was a cold storage room, and to the left was a corridor about t meters long, with doors on both sides. At the d of the corridor, there was also a door. He jogged to the innermost left room and knocked on the door. A voice called out from inside, "Come in."


    He oped the door, peeking inside. The room was small, featuring a large table, a set of worn out sofas, and a coffee table.


    On the coffee table lay a lot of coins, and three shady looking individuals were counting money. Behind the large table sat a man in a suit with a pink shirt, slicked hair, and his feet propped up on the table.


    He glanced at Dave, raising an eyebrow. "What''s up?"


    Dave raised the velope in his hand and shook it. "Someone st me here to deliver a letter to a gtleman named Morris. Is Mr. Morris here?"


    The slick haired man lowered his feet, looking at Dave with curiosity, and introduced himself, "I am Morris. Who st you?"

 Chapter 29: Chapter 29 Filling Holes Before Entering The Market

    Dave placed the velope on the table. "I don''t know, sir. He said you would give me t cts." Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Morris paused, th casually grabbed two coins from the table and tossed them at Dave. Dave caught the coins and smiled, saying, "You''re very gerous, sir," before turning to leave the room.


    Morris, somewhat puzzled, watched the door close behind Dave, th focused on the velope. The velope was placed upside down, obscuring the sder and recipit. He didn''t pay much atttion, directly taking a letter oper and cutting it op, th began to read the letter.


    The more he read, the stranger his expression became. Finally, unable to contain himself, he crumpled the letter into a ball. "Bastard, he actually tricked me! Go grab that kid back!"


    ...


    "Julian!"


    "Graf!"


    "You two, come here!"


    Mr. Kre was livid, standing outside the office on the second floor and roaring at the just returned Julian and Graf. He could no longer tolerate the situation. He had once considered suing Graf and Julian, thinking that since they were unwilling to continue working, he could let them go with fifty dollars each.


    However, he quickly dismissed this idea; these two clearly looked like poor people without money. If they couldn''t come up with fifty dollars as a palty, they would definitely d up in jail, eating prison food for at least three months.


    Mr. Kre was a businessman, a capitalist who invested in the railway in this section of Ternell City. He was both a member of the Star Empire Railway Union and a shareholder in this section. His purpose was to make money, not to get into argumts with people. He had shut the door on them, as he feared that if Graf held a grudge, he would definitely cause trouble.


    Therefore, he decided to have a good talk with these two, but he waited in vain.


    He ev pinched his nose and wt to the worker''s quarters, only to find that the two guys hadn''t ev returned for the night!


    What truly drove him to his limits was their lax attitude towards absteeism. Workers, whether in factories or at this station, basically had no freedom under the oppression and exploitation of capitalists. To put it more deeply, the slave mtality of workers had be stimulated; after long term restrictions imposed by rules and systems aimed at them, they had lost the desire to resist.


    On a shallower level, it meant that money was supreme, and for meager wages, they had to lower their heads and obey the oppression and exploitation of capitalists. ???¦¥???§Á.???


    Few people would want to change anything and take action personally, but Julian and Graf did, and they did it so oply. They had brought this carefree attitude from the outside into the station. Already, six or sev workers had also tak leave without notifying Mr. Kre.


    Mr. Kre believed that if this issue was not properly resolved, this trd of carefree behavior would continue to spread, pottially infecting all the workers at some point. By th, his station would basically be finished.


    Thus, the most important issue now was not the lack of manpower, but to set an example with these two, making it clear to the other workers that if they did not follow the rules, the only outcome would be to pack up and leave, and they would have to pay a sum of money.


    After buying the ranch, Julian was no longer anxious. He had arranged for Dave to gather some members to help him build a house. The house didn''t need to be particularly beautiful; it just needed to provide shelter from the wind and rain and have a sufficitly wide trance.


    His plan was to tear down several dilapidated sheds on the ranch and rebuild them according to the original structure, with the guidance of two carpters, suring the warehouse would be ready before the wine arrived.


    Once he arranged for these workers, Julian returned to the station with Graf. This time, they were not there to work but to execute the clauses regarding breach of contract. In simple terms, they were there to deliver money and th leave.


    It wasn''t that Julian was afraid of Mr. Kre and felt compelled to deliver the money. Rather, the business he was gaged in was not particularly legitimate, and he would inevitably face various suppliers in Ternell City in the future. Before fighting against his emies, he needed to check whether his armor, weapons, and shields were intact. The same process applied to battles in the marketplace.


    If his opponts suddly caught him for failing to fulfill the contract, causing Mr. Kre to sue him, he would not only be fined but might also face imprisonmt.


    Therefore, he needed to fill all the holes in his defses and not give his future opponts any opportunities.


    After Mr. Kre stood on the second floor yelling, he withdrew his head, facing the gazes of onlookers, some of whom were laughing at him, while others looked concerned. Julian felt no ripple in his heart.


    Outside was a complex, large society, and within this station, there was also a similarly complex small society. It was tirely normal for some people not to like Julian, just as there were those who did not like Graf; there was nothing unusual about it.


    In more closed vironmts, the desire for people to climb upward becomes more intse.


    After going up to the second floor with Graf, they tered Mr. Kre''s office. Mr. Kre sat behind his desk, his fists resting on the table. He looked furious, his face redding, and his neck bulging. He suppressed the rage that threated to erupt, lowly hissing, "What do you want..."


    As he spoke halfway, his mind froze. He saw Julian walk directly to his desk, pull out a roll of colorful bills from his pocket, and place fifte bills on the table, th pushed them forward. The sct of the ink wafting from those delightful little notes led him to conclude that these must be real money, a smell he was very familiar with, having countered it daily.

 Chapter 30: Chapter 30 The Wealthy Deserve Respect And Privilege

    He glanced at the roll of money Julian put back into his pocket, estimating that there were still more than two hundred, maybe less than three hundred. He stacked the bills on the table, picked them up, and examined each one carefully. No doubt, they were real money¡ªt-dollar bills from the Empire. The front displayed the imperial royal emblem, while the back depicted the AT cleaning war machine.


    His fingertips glided over the printed portions, fully feeling the unique ure from the gravings, confirming it was the real deal!


    Holding the money with some confusion, he looked up at Julian. Julian casually pulled out a chair and sat down. "Mr. Kre, I sincerely thank you for providing me with a place to rest and eat wh I was at my wits'' d. It changed my life.


    "The extra fifty dollars is my personal way of expressing gratitude for your help wh I needed it the most. This is my heartfelt appreciation, so I hope you will accept it. Additionally, I would like you to write a receipt and declare the contract void."


    At this momt, Mr. Kre finally regained his sses. He looked at Julian with a complex expression, unsure where this lucky kid had found a source of wealth. From the way he acted so gerously, it was clear that fifty dollars might no longer be a significant amount in his eyes.


    As a capitalist, Mr. Kre held a profound reverce for capitalism. If Julian were a poor boy, he would have shown his disdain and leaned forward, spitting on Julian''s face. But now, Julian was a wealthy man, and Mr. Kre had to act in accordance with his status and that of his counterpart¡ªelegantly and nobly, without being vulgar.


    After considering it, he nodded, took out a piece of pure stationery, and wrote a receipt for one hundred dollars with a p soaked in ink, adding the date, signing it, and stamping it. Th he turned a and retrieved Julian and Graf''s contract from a filing cabinet, applying a rarely used "void" stamp on every page multiple times.


    From this momt on, Julian and Graf had no further ties to the station.


    Julian greatly appreciated Mr. Kre''s decisivess and extded his hand for a handshake. "Speaking of which, we will be doing business again. In about six days, two thousand five hundred boxes of low alcohol wine will arrive from other places. I hope to store them at the station''s warehouse for a couple more days, as I need to arrange transportation."


    Mr. Kre was tak aback. Two thousand five hundred boxes of low alcohol wine, ev at the lowest price of six dollars a box, made him gasp. He extded his other hand, gripping Julian''s right hand tightly, a "sweet" smile appearing on his face. "No problem, absolutely no problem. Customer requests are our service''s core principle.


    Any goods that arrive will have a three day waiting period for transfer. If it exceeds that limit, it''s fine; the cost of a warehouse is only a trivial five dollars a day."


    "Also, Mr. Julian might not know, but my son is in the transportation business!" S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The power of capital is boundless yet silt.


    ???¦®§®???.???


    This huge leap from Julian to Mr. Julian was accomplished with just one hundred fifty dollars and two thousand five hundred boxes of goods. Money permeates every layer of society, and the scariest part is that people oft fail to realize how money subtly influces their judgmt and thoughts at all times.


    "That''s ev better. I''ll come back again once the goods arrive," Mr. Kre said, mtioning his son, and Julian remembered the school he had mtioned. "By the way, you mtioned there was a school that could teach me literacy?"


    "Yes, there is such a thing," Mr. Kre immediately loosed his hands, took a business card from his drawer, and handed it over with both hands.


    Julian took it and glanced; it was not far from where he currtly lived. In his dreams, something had always said, "Knowledge changes destiny," and he deeply believed in that. Knowledge is a formidable thing, just like money. Wh you don''t have it, you might not feel any differce betwe yourself and others. But once you possess knowledge, you realize that you may not be the same as others.


    After bidding farewell to Mr. Kre, Julian took Graf to the so called "tutoring class." Not only did he need to learn to read, but Graf also needed to, as did Dave and all illiterate members of their community association.


    What he aimed to do was definitely not business in Ternell City, nor was it to sell low-alcohol wine; he needed a team that could help him reach the pinnacle of the world. He wanted to be a member of the ruling class in this world!


    ...


    The literacy class has be arranged, costing a considerable sum of money, and with Mr. Kre''s support, his daughter is very atttive. In this capitalist world, the wealthy deserve respect and privilege in society; after all, money is people''s father.


    During the day, Julian was busy watching the blacksmith create large distillers, purchasing some necessary equipmt and tools, and at night he attded the literacy class with his fellowship assosiation members. It must be said that compared to the square characters in the dream world, the letters in this world are indeed not difficult to learn.


    It''s just like how people can speak, if you know ough letters and understand how to spell them, reading becomes basically no problem.


    What remains is to increase reading volume, memorize more vocabulary, and practice writing. Every member of the fellowship knows that such an opportunity is hard to come by, knowledge, like money, is an expsive resource.


    For a rapid literacy class like this, everyone needs to pay fifte bucks in tuition, which is truly an astronomical figure for these youths, at least before they joined the fellowship.


    Whever they have a little money in their pockets, they will hand it over to their parts at home to improve their living conditions, buy a piece or two of clothing for their younger siblings, or treat them to some good food. Therefore, wh it comes to learning literacy and writing, every youth takes it very seriously, no one needs to remind them, and they absorb knowledge like sponges.

 Chapter 31: Chapter 31 A Valuable Lesson

    Except for Graf.


    "Oh God, I think I''m going crazy!" Graf, who had secretly hidd a bottle of wine in the classroom, sat in the back row. Staring at the twisted letters on the blackboard, he felt his head was about to explode. Through bleary eyes, he glanced at Julian, who was very serious next to him, and asked, "Will learning this help me make more money?"


    Julian tilted his head and thought seriously for a momt before shaking his head. "No, learning to read and write won''t help you make more money!"


    Graf burped and exhaled a foul stch of alcohol. "Th why should I learn it?"


    "At least it''ll allow you to live with dignity and grace."


    Graf laughed again. "Didn''t we say before that once we make money, we''ll let those school kids be our assistants, and th hire some well educated female secretaries? Isn''t that more dignified?"


    This time, Julian nodded. He couldn''t wake up someone who was drunk and unwilling to sober up, nor did he feel the need to change someone else''s perspective.


    There was a saying in his dream that resonated well: "Do not impose on others what you do not desire." In simpler terms, since he was not someone who wished to be controlled, he would not easily try to control those who did not want to be controlled, barring special circumstances.


    If Graf did not want to become a cultured person, or at least someone who could read a newspaper flutly, that was his business. After spding these past few days with Graf, Julian felt he had se through him. He was an aimless person, his most suitable job would be to be a freeloader, wandering the streets all day, bragging, and drinking.


    But it must be said that Graf had helped him, especially with that forty bucks and some other small matters.


    Wh it came to fridship, Julian held it in some regard. As long as Graf had not let him down, he would certainly be his frid.


    On the contrary, in rect days, he had be very optimistic about a young man named Dave. Perhaps it was related to Dave having served time in prison, it was precisely because he had tasted helplessness and bitterness that he could understand the value of opportunity. Whether it was getting things done or sitting here learning to read and study some words, Dave was the most earnest.


    Serious people may not necessarily succeed, but those who are not serious¡­ He glanced at Graf and thought that was destined to fail.


    On the fifth day, Julian instructed Dave to oversee the construction of the farm shed while he supervised various blacksmiths in the city making differt parts of the distiller. Just th, Dave suddly ran over. This was something that had never happed before; no matter what Julian assigned to Dave, he had always completed it meticulously and never left the task he was supposed to do.


    Something must have happed at the farm.


    After briefly speaking to the blacksmith, he stepped out of the workshop. The cold air outside hit him in the face, making him feel momtarily breathless as the temperature shifted. He pulled out a cigarette and tossed one to Dave, lighting one for himself as well. Wh they reached the roadside, Julian asked, "What''s the rush? What happed?"


    Dave leaned in after taking a puff of his cigarette and lowered his voice. "Morris has come with some people. He made a fuss for a while, saying that Hu had mortgaged the ranch to him, and he wants to see you."


    ???¦®§®?¦´?.?¦¨§®


    Julian''s brows furrowed instantly, the thing he most dreaded had happed. He had previously praised Dave for being very sharp, noting that he ev wt into the deli to check if Morris was there after seeing Hu ter. In Julian''s view, since Hu had gone, Morris would never let him leave without money. But now, the problem had indeed aris, the question was which link had gone wrong.


    While he was deep in thought, Dave stepped back a little, so as not to disturb Julian''s contemplation.


    After about four or five minutes, Julian finally crushed the cigarette butt, which had burned down to the filter, onto the g, making it bounce slightly and sd sparks flying.


    He figured it out, Hu must have giv Morris a portion of the money, temporarily appeasing him, and th falsely claimed that he had mortgaged the ranch to Morris. After Morris received a certain amount of money plus the value of the ranch, he likely agreed to this arrangemt. After clearing the debt, Hu had already tak his family and some meager belongings back to his hometown four days ago.


    Damn it!


    He kicked the nearby lamp post angrily, causing a muffled thud that drew the atttion of passersby.


    Julian took a deep breath and summoned Dave over. He took out a roll of money from his pocket, counted out fifty bucks, and shoved it into Dave''s hand. "Here, immediately arrange for someone to find out where Hu and his wife''s hometown is, and th find them to get our money back."


    He took another step forward, almost pressing up against Dave, and wrapped an arm a his shoulder, pressing it down. "Take weapons, just in case!"


    Dave nodded vigorously, turned a, and ran off.


    Julian stood alone in place, a surge of unnamed anger rising within him as he kicked the lamp post a few more times.


    He was guinely angry. He felt he had done very well, knowing that by the d of the month, Hu''s ranch would belong to Morris and that he could buy it back from Morris at a much lower price.


    Yet he believed he should give Hu''s family a way out, a chance. So, he bought that worthless ranch at a premium of three hundred bucks.


    But what did his kindness bring him? S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Deceit and lies!


    That damn guy must be feeling quite pleased with himself now, right? With several hundred or ev a thousand bucks, he freed himself from the burd of debt and returned home to live a carefree life?


    I''m so stupid!


    Julian slapped himself, and this incidt made him realize that in this cruel world, any hint of kindness could pottially be exploited!

 Chapter 32: Chapter 32 The Golden Crystal Bar

    At that momt, a police officer walked by, frowning as he looked at Julian. "Kid, did you kick the lamp post? According to imperial law, damaging public property is punishable. Do you know¡­"


    Julian looked at the officer as if he were a snarling dog. Without waiting for him to finish, he impatitly pulled out a roll of one-dollar bills from the other pocket of his pants, casually tossed five bills on the g, and turned to leave.


    The officer initially wanted to teach this impolite young man a lesson, but upon seeing the five bills starting to flutter in the wind on the g, he immediately abandoned his previous thoughts, bt down, and picked them up, stuffing them into his pocket.


    He adjusted his police hat and continued patrolling his territory with an air of arrogance as before.


    Just like¡­ a dog circling a its own territory!


    At a sev in the eving, as the city lights began to illuminate, the remote small town of Ternell revealed a differt beauty under the glow.


    The dim streetlights cast fleeting shadows of pedestrians, adding a unique charm to the atmosphere.


    The Gold Crystal Bar is located on 4th Street in Ternell, situated in the eastern part of the city near the north, making it part of the outer core of the city. It is a mid range bar, designed and constructed by a professional team, boasting a dect style. Additionally, the bar is known for its excellt security, making it an attractive place for the middle class to joy their leisure.


    It is said that the owner of Gold Crystal was once a big boss of a gang but was later arrested and imprisoned for some reason. After serving his stce, he did not return to the gang; instead, he oped this bar with his savings. This bar is located in the territory of his former gang, and leveraging his past connections and status, few would dare to cause trouble here.


    Simultaneously, other gangs oft choose Gold Crystal as a location for negotiations or transactions.


    Gradually, Gold Crystal Bar became the most unique bar in Ternell.


    The first floor is filled with ordinary customers, while the second floor is oft a gathering place for gang members, with the owner of Gold Crystal becoming a well known intermediary.


    Dave informed Julian about Gold Crystal. During his time in prison, Dave had interacted with many gang members and made several acquaintances, but he never joined any gang.


    On one hand, the populist atmosphere within the gangs was more pronounced, and the disdain and contempt the Ordinians people held for other failed races was strong; they were unwilling to let the Guar people "pollute" their gangs.


    On the other hand, some gangs that extded invitations to Dave were not interested in his future but hoped he could become a sharp blade in their hands to assist them in dangerous tasks. ?¡Ì??§®???.???


    In this situation, Dave would certainly refuse. Ev if he was forced to walk this path in the future, he hoped to join a Guar gang, such as the fellowship. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    To Dave, the fellowship was a gang; it was just that this gang understood better how to hide its claws.


    Julian brought Graf and Dave along for the meeting, and the three tered Gold Crystal Bar. Wh the doorman saw Julian and Dave, he briefly blocked their way. According to imperial law, minors under the age of sixte are prohibited from tering bars.


    Despite this law being trampled countless times by bar owners and the sight of underage girls seeking thrills in nearly every bar, there are times wh superficial work still needs to be done.


    "This place doesn''t welcome minors!"


    Julian remained silt, gazing at the person blocking his way. Graf stepped up from behind, pushing the man''s arm aside. The man stumbled back a step and instinctively hid his hand behind his back, "What are you blocking for? Don''t you see this is our chairman?"


    The man, who was about to reach for something, paused, th pulled his hand out, his face turning cold. "A chairman this small? Heh¡­ your gang is something else!" He shrugged his shoulders, adjusted his clothes, and said, "Go on in, but remember, don''t cause any trouble. Otherwise, no one can save you."


    Julian looked at him; the guy stared straight ahead as if unaware Julian was watching him. Julian shook his head with a smile, turning his gaze away and walking straight into the bar.


    The atmosphere in the bar was relaxed, with blue lights illuminating everything inside without being harsh, creating a unique ambiance. To the left upon tering was a staircase. After climbing the stairs, they countered four people blocking the way at the top.


    One of them carefully scrutinized the three ascding the stairs, revealing a hint of a smile. "You must be from the fellowship, right? Morris is already here, waiting for you. Please hand over any weapons or similar items; this is to sure everyone''s safety, and I hope you understand."


    This is why many people are willing to use this place as a transaction or negotiation spot; the boss of Gold Crystal can sure the safety of both parties, making people willing to trade and negotiate here.


    Graf handed over the dagger he had on him and stepped aside. Dave pulled out a small knife, about t ctimeters long, from his pocket and also surrdered it. After a thorough search, the three were allowed to proceed together. While being searched was not a pleasant experice, Julian could understand it and was also very interested in the boss of Gold Crystal.


    Negotiations like his with Morris require a paymt of fifty bucks; this fee is split among the participating factions. This means Julian needed to pay twty five bucks. It was not a large sum; all the gangs could afford it, and as long as he could guarantee safety, twty five bucks was a reasonable price.


    With the staff''s guidance, they arrived at the third room. After knocking on the door, the staff waited for about half a minute before oping it and standing outside.

 Chapter 33: Chapter 33 Unresolvable Conflict

    Julian stepped inside first and immediately spotted the person Dave had described, a slick haired, powdered face. Morris was dressed in a purple suit with shoes and appeared to be wearing makeup. He lounged on the sofa with his legs crossed on the coffee table. Upon seeing Julian ter, he showed no inclination to stand, boldly staring at him.


    There were two strong looking individuals beside him, with tattooed wrists exposed outside their sleeves, one of whom had a noticeable scar across his face.


    "So, you are Julian?" Morris grinned, looking Julian up and down rudely, disdain evidt on his face. "Are you the one who wanted to talk to me? I don''t see a need for a conversation, just hand over the land, and you won''t have to worry about anything!"


    The sofa in the room was long, resembling a sideways C. Julian sat across from Morris, crossed his legs, and clasped his hands together on his knee. He examined Morris in turn, seemingly ignoring Morris''s arrogant words. After about t seconds, Julian finally spoke: "Hu has already sold his farm to me, and it has be registered and approved by the imperial land office.


    I am the rightful owner of that land, so I have no need to go anywhere."


    "On the contrary, it''s you, Mr. Morris, who has a debt dispute with Hu. That should not involve my private property. Regarding what happed during the day, I can consider it an uninttional offse due to your ignorance, and I have forgiv you."


    Morris paused briefly after hearing this, th burst into laughter. He pointed at Julian and turned to his hchman, "Did you hear that? Did you hear? My God, a kid is actually threating me? Hahaha¡­" The laughter didn''t last long before he stopped, retracting his legs and leaning forward with one arm resting on his thigh.


    "I don''t care what transaction you have going on; all I know is that Hu has used that land as collateral for his debts to me."


    "That''s impossible, Mr. Morris! I would never pay for a ranch that belongs to me a second time!" Julian shifted in his seat. "Moreover, I''ve already st someone to find Hu, and it won''t be long before he returns. At that time, you can clear things up directly betwe yourselves."


    Morris shrugged, "You either give me the land or give me the money. There''s no other option, kid!"


    "Is there no room for negotiation?" After Julian asked, Morris immediately shook his head.


    After all, it was sixte hundred bucks, not one hundred sixty, and certainly not sixte. This amount had to go to the gang as developmt funds. Besides, in his mind, what was Julian? He wasn''t ev qualified to bargain with someone of his stature; the smart choice would be to obeditly admit defeat.


    At this point, Morris stood up from the sofa and walked over to Julian, glancing at Graf, who had tak a few steps forward, and scoffed. He patted Julian on the shoulder. "Remember, I''m only giving you three days," he said before tossing his head back, leaving with his m.


    Julian leaned back on the sofa, gazing at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, pursing his lips as he contemplated for a momt, unable to resist smiling.


    As he laughed, shaking his head, he realized this situation could be resolved in a very peaceful and fridly manner. As long as Hu''s family was captured and brought back, Morris would surely find a way to liquidate them. Besides, Hu had at least a thousand bucks in cash and some other slightly valuable items. ?????§²¦´?.?§°?


    If a mother and daughter were sold together in a certain place, four hundred bucks would only be a month''s worth.


    However, it was clear that Morris looked down on him, so what Julian considered a peaceful and fridly resolution became a nuisance in Morris''s eyes.


    People like him had long be accustomed to bullying others with their power. Whether or not Julian had any promint backg, he certainly believed he could manipulate him at will!


    Julian slapped his legs and stood up, walking toward the door.


    Just wait and see, Mr. Morris!


    ...


    "Mason, you passed the assessmt."


    Mr. Kesma casually tossed a heavy file folder onto the table. Just as he had predicted, once one pup crawled out of the nest, the remaining ones were unlikely to stay behind. Their curiosity about the world would drive them to overcome all challges and difficulties, bravely crawling out.


    After Julian left home, the first to step up was Mr. Kesma''s eldest son, Mason Kesma. Secretly, he took a "resume" he had writt to the town, wanting to become a policeman or something of the sort. He listed all the achievemts he could proudly boast of in his life and spt twty cts to have an old town drunkard, who could still write, jot it down on paper for him.


    Under the cover of darkness, he slipped the paper under the sheriff''s door. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He wanted to be a policeman, or ev better, a sheriff. After all, for kids in the countryside, policem wearing uniforms and badges were just too cool. If he could become a cop, many girls would undoubtedly fall for him, and every time he thought of that, Mason couldn''t sleep out of excitemt.


    Somehow, the news got out. Mason figured it was probably the old drunkard, who always blurted out everything he knew wh he was drunk. Soon, the whole town knew he wanted to be a cop.


    Mr. Kesma, who was the last to find out, wasn''t as angry as wh Julian chose to leave the family and vture out on his own. Instead, he calmly called Mason outside and looked at him seriously. "Mason, my boy, are you sure you want to become a policeman and not inherit my farm?"


    Mason was a bit scared. In the household, Mr. Kesma''s authority surpassed ev the church, so Mason was terrified. But wh he recalled Julian''s resolute departure, he realized this was his only chance. If he backed down now, he would never escape this life that felt like a shackle, and evtually, he''d d up like Mr. Kesma, a farmer spding his whole life in the countryside.

 Chapter 34: Chapter 34 Kevin Romais

    That wasn''t the life he wanted. He didn''t want to be a farmer¡ªhe wanted to fight back!


    So, he nodded vigorously. "Yes, Father, I want to be a policeman, a sheriff, and one day I''ll go to the city and become the chief of police. I don''t like farming¡ªI hate the smell of manure."


    Mr. Kesma''s mouth curled into an awkward smile as he patted Mason on the shoulder. "I let Julian leave to chase his dreams, so I can''t stop you from finding your path either. I agree, but you need to understand one thing¡ªwh it''s time for the harvest, you''ll still need to come back and help us.


    You can take your things and head to the police station now, but remember to come back for dinner every day."


    Mason was trembling with excitemt. He had never imagined the strict Mr. Kesma, who never allowed anyone to go against him, would be so op minded. Tears of joy almost welled up in his eyes as he repeatedly thanked him, clasping his hands and kissing his thumbs in gratitude.


    Mr. Kesma jokingly scolded him, giving him a light smack on the head. "If you don''t go pack now, you''ll d up spding another night in this place you don''t like."


    "I''ll go pack right now!" Mason dashed into the small attic to gather his belongings. Mrs. Kesma, puzzled, looked at Mr. Kesma, whose eyes revealed a touch of understanding as he began to explain.


    "You can never force a cow to drink water by shoving its head down, ev if you drown it in the trough. If it doesn''t want to drink, it won''t drink."


    Mason quickly packed a few simple belongings. It wasn''t cold yet, so all he needed was a light blanket. He grabbed the file folder from the table, containing his badge and some documts. After hugging Mr. and Mrs. Kesma and saying goodbye to his siblings, he immediately left home.


    Mr. Kesma sat back in the chair that symbolized his position as head of the household, crossing his legs with an amused smirk.


    "What a fool. Julian left for a far off city, and this one? He''s still in town and has lighted the family''s workload. Wh it''s time to work, I won''t mind taking a stick to drive him back. Besides, I give it a month at most before Mason can''t take it anymore and comes back. Without expericing country policing, anyone would go crazy."


    Meanwhile, Julian probably didn''t know his brother had become a country cop, wearing a badge on his chest. If he knew, he might have some thoughts about it, but ev if he were told now, it would be too late.


    By tomorrow, wh the sun rises, the wine will be stored in the warehouse by the station. The day after, according to Morris, he''ll take over Julian''s ranch. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Morris might not realize that he''s interfering with a deal worth over t thousand bucks. And for that much money, I bet the Lord would forgive sding a few people his way.


    ??¨N?§®¦Ñ??.???


    Julian''s eyes filled with a growing murderous intt. He wasn''t one to use such methods to solve problems. Killing someone was indeed the easiest way to deal with trouble, but doing so wouldn''t help a person or a business grow¡ªit would just create obstacles for future transformation. After all, you can''t always kill your way out of every problem.


    There are some people you won''t dare to kill, and some you simply can''t.


    Wh your mind is trapped in the loop of "I''ll kill whoever stands in my way," that''s wh you know you''ve hit your limit.


    Julian didn''t want to kill, but sometimes people leave you with no choice but to resort to the least desirable methods to eliminate them.


    The next day, at dawn, Julian st Dave and a few young lads to keep watch. He believed that everyone''s actions followed some sort of pattern. Three days might not be much time, but it would be ough to figure out the geral rhythm.


    "Hello, Mr. Romais, I have a question¡­" Julian sat in the office of a law firm, facing one of the best lawyers in Ternell City, Kevin Romais. Kevin was a very successful lawyer with an impressive education and extsive experice in litigation. As long as you paid him ough, he''d do his best, ev if it meant going against his conscice and morals.


    Rectly, a scandal broke out at Ternell City''s public high school¡ªa girl had gott pregnant, and her family only discovered it wh she was sev months along, exposing the scandal.


    Typically, cases like this are as solid as a rock, with no room for reversal. But the school''s math teacher hired Kevin at great expse, and Kevin managed to turn the case a, getting the math teacher acquitted in court.


    The teacher was released after paying a fine, and a week later, the pregnant girl jumped from the fifth floor of a hospital, taking both her life and that of her unborn child.


    The case caused a massive uproar, and ev some authoritative newspapers in the capital covered it extsively, harshly criticizing the Ternell City court and Kevin Romais for his morally bankrupt actions. However, contrary to mainstream media and public opinion, Kevin became a rising star in the legal world.


    In an industry where just tering meant you were part of high society, Kevin was now one of the brightest stars.


    He had turned the impossible into reality, something that every capitalist and wealthy person sought. Rumor had it that the three biggest law firms in the capital had all st invitations to Kevin, asking him to join their ranks as a lead litigation lawyer.


    All that was left was for him to accept.


    Kevin had a clean, fair appearance and was impeccably dressed, giving a great first impression and inspiring a sse of trust. Perhaps this was one of the reasons for his success¡ªhis looks were highly deceptive. Wh he smiled, ev Julian found it blinding, like staring into the sun. What an annoying guy.

 Chapter 35: Chapter 35 How To Be Exonerated After Committing Murder

    "Before we talk, I need to inform you of one thing. My consultation fee is sixty dollars an hour, and if any analysis or documtation is involved¡­" He made a small circle with his finger and added with a shy smile, "¡­the fee doubles to one hundred and twty dollars an hour."


    "And please, call me Kevin."


    Julian smirked. "What are the requiremts to become a lawyer? I think you make way more than I do." Kevin knew it was a joke, so he didn''t respond. Instead, he pressed a button on a clock on the desk, and the second hand started ticking away. Julian chuckled and shook his head. "Alright, alright, I get it.


    Time''s ticking. Sixty bucks a minute¡ªdamn, you''re scarier than a capitalist!"


    "I need to ask something. If someone kills another person and voluntarily turns themselves in, how can they be exonerated? How can they be released without charges, or at least pay a fine to be let go?"


    Kevin blinked, momtarily stunned. Not quite believing what he had just heard, he asked with an apologetic tone, "Sorry, I didn''t quite understand. Are you asking how to legally kill someone?"


    Julian nodded. Kevin pressed the clock again, and the ticking stopped. His expression grew more serious, and the gold badge of his profession gleamed on his chest, lding his face a sse of justice and righteousness.


    "One thousand dollars. I''ll handle the case, but you or anyone involved must follow my instructions to the letter. Understood?"


    Julian stood up, one hand resting at his waist, the other extded. "Th, I''ll leave it to you."


    Kevin also stood up, and whether by coincidce or not, the last rays of sunlight outside fell on his face, illuminating both him and the scales of justice behind him, symbolizing law and fairness.


    "That''s what I''m here for!"


    ...


    Morris had never regarded the Guar people with any respect. To him, they were a race of failures, scattered and dispersed throughout the empire by its forces. No single city could muster 5,000 Guar people. Facing such a scattered and powerless group, Morris saw no need to give them much thought.


    Ev though he knew that Julian''s proposed method for capturing Hu was the right solution, he hadn''t ev considered using it.


    He had only one thing on his mind¡ªwaiting for three days. Once that time was up, he would lead his m to reclaim the farm and th quickly sell it off. By th, he could pocket at least 50 coins, which was all he cared about.


    His wallet.


    ???¦®§®???.?§°?


    As a conscitious gang member, Morris''s daily life is still very regular.


    Every morning a nine o''clock, he would leave home promptly, which meant he likely got up before eight thirty. During those three days, he neither left earlier nor later than usual. Dressed in a tracksuit, he would jog about two kilometers to Sevth Street, where he''d stop by a delicatess.


    After tering, he would change into flashy, eye catching clothes, styling himself in an almost greasy and gaudy manner. Th, along with a few of his m, he''d begin his daily s of debt collection across the city.


    Lunch was usually eat at the homes of those unfortunate ough to owe him money, and a four in the afternoon, they would return to the delicatess. After finishing their meal and waiting for the sun to fully set, they would head off to "Tropical Jungle," where they''d party until past midnight.


    "Tropical Jungle" was a popular underg dance hall. It earned the "underg" label because there were no restrictions on the people allowed inside. Anyone could walk in at any time, whether they came alone or with a group. Unlike legitimate bars or dance halls, which had strict safety and fire regulations¡ªlike a maximum capacity¡ªTropical Jungle didn''t adhere to any of these rules.


    Many bars and clubs oft had long lines outside due to these regulations, but not here.


    Tropical Jungle was located in an air raid shelter beath the bridge on Elevth Street. It was initially created by a group of ecctrically dressed young people, who had metal piercings embedded in their faces, rebelling against mainstream aesthetics. They would play what most people considered noise, but the beats were intse, and they''d dance and sing in the shelter.


    Gradually, this culture, known as "punk," became a symbol of rebellion, attracting more young people until the air raid shelter became a sanctuary for them. No expsive tickets were required, nor was there a need to patitly wait in line. All you needed was a pack of fruit wine, some drinks, cigarettes, and a chatty attitude to easily bld in with this unique crowd.


    In every world, there are things that leave people speechless. As more young people joined Tropical Jungle and made it their midnight sanctuary, the once-adored punk culture was gradually pushed out. It was like a drop of ink in a small bowl¡ªit could change the color of the water.


    But if you replaced that bowl with a fish tank or a lake, a single drop of ink wouldn''t make much of a differce; it would be assimilated.


    Mainstream culture flooded into this pond, turning the punk sanctuary back into a bastion of mainstream culture.


    Morris would stay at Tropical Jungle until late every night. If he met the right girl, he''d leave early. He had a particular taste¡ªhe liked young studts, especially those with higher education. The more educated they were, the more interested he became.


    As the sky darked, Morris and one of his m drove back to the bridge on Elevth Street. After locking his car, Morris walked down the familiar maintance staircase attached to the bridge. Once at the riverbank, they walked less than a hundred meters wh they began to hear the faint thumping of the music.


    A sly grin appeared on Morris''s face as he walked, swaying his body as if already on the dance floor. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    About t more meters ahead stood a rusty iron door. The momt he pushed it op, the music, which had be muffled, suddly blared loudly. A strong smell of alcohol hit them as they stepped into the dark hallway. The sct of sweat and something else lingered in the air, but Morris was already used to it.


    After walking about twty meters down the dark corridor, they emerged into a large op space.

 Chapter 36: Chapter 36 Morris

    This was one of the many air raid shelters in Ternell City. Once a guarantee of people''s safety during times of war, it was now packed with people, just like in its heyday.


    Young people had brought in rocks, crates, and old structures to build a makeshift coliseum. Under dim lighting and with pulsating music blaring, countless bodies swayed and danced in the cter, releasing pt up emotions.


    Ev in the crowded "dance floor," it was difficult to make out the faces of the people in front of you, as m and wom shed their daytime personas and indulged in the fleeting joys of their youth.


    Some girls were already topless, screaming and shaking their heads with their eyes half closed, as if lost in a dream. M might grope them, but who cared? By morning, no one would recognize anyone, and that was the true essce of Tropical Jungle.


    Release and indulgce. All negative emotions evaporated as soon as you stepped inside.


    Morris laughed as he squeezed into the dance floor, pressing against the bodies of young m and wom, reveling in the chaos.


    In the distance, from one of the dark tunnels, faint sounds could be heard, masked by the loud music. For these people, this place was heav! S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Morris wandered a the dance floor for a while but couldn''t find a target. He wasn''t interested in the overly wild ones, perhaps due to his lack of education and his respect for intellectuals and high society. He loved educated girls, and at the momt he had them under him, it felt as if he could conquer the world.


    With his skills, he would tear through their education, culture, and social standing as if he could dominate the tire universe.


    Suddly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a girl sitting quietly at the edge of the dance floor. She wore glasses and had a long ponytail, giving off an intellectual vibe. Morris didn''t know what "intellectual" meant, but he knew one thing: this girl attracted him.


    "Alone?" He squeezed over and sat down beside her. The girl glanced at him and shifted away, putting distance betwe them.


    "No, my frids are over there," she said, pointing toward the indistinguishable crowd in the dance floor.


    Morris scooted closer, sitting right next to her again. "What about me? Can I be your frid, miss?"


    Morris had to admit that he had some charm. His flashy outfit and bold demeanor could intrigue girls seeking a thrill, especially those who were usually the good, quiet types. The more they were repressed during the day, the wilder they became here.


    The girl scooted ev further away. "I don''t like making frids with strangers."


    The more she avoided him, the more Morris was intrigued, and the more restless he felt. People have an odd instinct¡ªwh something is easily attainable, it loses its allure. But wh faced with resistance, the desire for conquest becomes stronger. The thrill of the chase was what really excited Morris.


    "My name''s Morris. Everyone knows me a here!" he said, moving closer again. "See? Now you know my name, so we''re frids!"


    §®???????.§³??


    The girl sneered. "I don''t know you, and I don''t like people like you. Please, keep your distance."


    Morris, usually thick skinned, felt a bit hurt by her repeated rejections. Just as he was debating whether to take a differt approach, the girl''s frids returned from the dance floor, likely tired from dancing.


    They were all very young, their faces still fresh with the air of academia, untouched by society''s harsh realities. Seeing them made Morris feel a pang of jealousy.


    He had once be young, but now, not anymore.


    One of the boys glanced at Morris and asked the girl, "Is this your frid?"


    Before the girl could respond, Morris stood up and extded his hand. "Yes, we''re frids. Nice to meet you all."


    The boy hesitated for a momt, unfamiliar with the adult social etiquette Morris was displaying, but evtually reached out and shook his hand. This small gesture of maturity seemed to give the boy a sse of having grown up, and he sat down beside Morris, looking pleased with himself.


    "I''ve never heard Nasha mtion having a frid like you. What''s your name?" The boy''s innocce amused Morris.


    Morris snapped his fingers at one of his followers and, after giving a quick order, turned back to the boy. "I''m Morris. I''ve got a bit of a reputation in Ternell City. If you ever need help, just let me know." As he spoke, Morris''s subordinate brought over a bottle of alcohol. Wh the group of studts saw it, their eyes lit up.


    Holding the bottle like a trophy, Morris boasted with a smirk, "This is ''Gold Classic.'' Some places sell it for eighte a bottle!".


    Eighte bucks in Ternell was ough to reach the minimum threshold of middle class income. In other words, this one bottle was worth as much as a middle class person''s monthly wage, or two ordinary workers'' combined salaries for a month!


    With a smooth motion, he popped the cap op and, smiling, asked, "Care for a drink?"


    ...


    At the same time, in the most luxurious hotel on King''s Avue in Ternell City, Julian was sitting with Kevin, chatting. Most of the time, Julian was listing while Kevin was speaking.


    "We categorize criminal acts into two types¡­" Kevin paused wh he said this, blinked twice with a smile, and continued, "One type results in serious consequces, and the other does not."


    "Gerally, crimes without serious consequces, once solved, are handled by the city court betwe 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. on Saturdays. The judge directly decides the punishmt, which is usually several months of labor, and the stce rarely exceeds eighte months."


    "For crimes that result in serious consequces, have a large societal impact, cause serious injury or death, or bring significant losses to individuals, companies, or ev the governmt, the lawyers on both sides will select a date for a trial. The decision of guilt is left to a citiz jury, while the judge is responsible only for determining the stcing."

 Chapter 37: Chapter 37 Discussing Law

    "If the losing party is dissatisfied with the city court''s ruling, they can appeal to a higher court, referred to as the state high court. The court system progresses from city courts to state high courts, and finally to the Empire''s Supreme Court."


    Julian listed to Kevin carefully and poured him a glass of water. As the most luxurious hotel in Ternell, they had everything you could want, but Kevin mtioned he never drank alcohol because it dulled the mind. For a lawyer, a dull mind meant the countdown to the d of their career had begun.


    After taking a sip of water, Kevin continued, "The state high court will consider the suggestions from both lawyers and hold at least three trials, with a jury of no fewer than twty citizs making the final decision on whether the charges hold. If the case itself holds no special significance, the state high court''s decision will be final.


    But if the case garners public atttion or causes a series of other issues, it will be handed to the Empire''s Supreme Court for a final ruling."


    "A small case of excessive self defse, and the deceased was a notorious gang member? Ev the state high court doesn''t want to be bothered with such cases. Ev if someone appeals, it will likely be rejected," Kevin said with a gleeful glint in his eyes, clearly satisfied with how easily he earned his fee.


    If it wer''t for his mother''s poor health and the fact that he hadn''t yet saved ough money to buy a house in the big city, he would have left Ternell two years ago. After successfully overturning a case involving a teacher accused of assaulting an underage girl, he had gained a solid reputation and status within the legal industry.


    He was frequtly invited to participate in lawsuits and defses, earning him a considerable amount of money.


    However, of his cases had brought in more profit than this one with Julian.


    A total of one thousand dollars. Ev if the victims families said, "he sold his soul to the devil," what differce did it make? If someone were truly righteous, they wouldn''t choose to be a lawyer. The momt someone decides to become a lawyer, their innocce is already lost.


    Kevin took another sip of water and suddly asked, "Mr. Julian, have you studied law or religious law?"


    This question had be on Kevin''s mind for three days. Wh Julian used terms like "surrder" and "minor," which had specific legal meanings, Kevin got the impression that Julian wasn''t as simple as he appeared. Without some backg in law, it would be difficult to use such critical legal terminology in a murder case discussion.


    A significant portion of the Empire''s law was directly copied from religious law, which every lawyer knew. After the royal family overthrew the theocracy, nobles with no legal knowledge were appointed to the judicial system. Faced with a blank slate, they struggled to draft a legal code for the nation. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Someone had a bright idea and oped the book of religious law, borrowing many of its interpretations, and some sections are still used to this day.


    For instance, the licy granted to minors comes from religious law, which states, "Childr are still ignorant; God has not yet bestowed wisdom upon them." The nobles may have thought it inappropriate to copy this directly, but they couldn''t think of a better phrasing, so on page thirte, line one, they wrote: "Crimes committed by minors should be treated with licy, educating and admonishing them on proper conduct toward others, with light punishmt." ???¦¥??£¤?.???


    Despite Kevin''s probing gaze, Julian didn''t show the slightest reaction. He toyed with his glass and shook his head. "As much as I hate to admit it, until a few days ago, I had only mastered writing about fifty words."


    Kevin was shocked. Over the past few days, he had spt most of his time discussing plans with Julian and had always assumed that Julian was well educated. After all, Julian''s manners and demeanor were far superior to those of an ordinary Guar. It wasn''t until now that he realized Julian had be illiterate just days ago.


    Kevin couldn''t believe what he was hearing. Illiterate?


    How could that be?


    "I finally believe what the preachers say¡ªGod is indeed omnipott!"


    Faced with Kevin''s sigh, Julian could only shrug. He couldn''t exactly explain that he had dreamed of another world, watching a newborn grow into a great man, only to be killed in a twist of fate, shot down by a bullet. So, he kept silt.


    After a while, there was a rhythmic knock at the door, causing both Julian and Kevin to pause. They walked to the floor to ceiling window and looked down at a car that had just stopped in front of the hotel trance.


    Morris was supporting Nasha, his hand under her arm, practically carrying her weight. Gold Label was called a classic for a reason¡ªits high alcohol contt could easily knock out first time drinkers, leaving them unconscious.


    "Do you need help?" Nasha''s "classmate" staggered over, clearly drunk. Morris had a good impression of the guy. If it wer''t for him, this girl named Nasha might have refused to drink. It was his persuasion, along with the couragemt of his two female frids, that piqued Nasha''s curiosity and led her to take a sip.


    The higher the alcohol contt, the less it initially feels like anything. But after Morris oped another bottle of Gold Label, it was clear Nasha had had too much. Perhaps she thought her frids would take care of her, or maybe it was the allure of such a high d drink, but she couldn''t resist and drank more than she should have.


    Now, this was the result.


    "I''ve already booked a room for you. Have a pleasant eving," Morris patted the boy''s arm with a knowing smile, th helped Nasha into the hotel.


    He was a regular here. A standard room for the night only cost three dollars and ninety cts, not a significant amount for him.

 Chapter 38: Chapter 38 Morris Life

    Morris had a strange habit. He always thought that getting into bed with a girl he liked was a sacred act. Unlike the younger m and wom who would casually find a hidd spot to satisfy their hormonal urges, he treated intimacy like a ritual. Only by completing each step of the ritual could he feel true inner happiness.


    After bringing the unconscious girl into the room he had reserved, he turned on all the lights, gtly placed her on the bed, and carefully removed all her clothes, covering her with a blanket. Thoughtfully, he placed a glass of water on the nightstand in case she woke up thirsty from drinking too much.


    Th, he undressed, neatly hanging his clothes in the closet. He donned a bathrobe and tered the bathroom, removing the robe and hanging it on the rack. Facing the mirror, he grasped the triangular pdant on his chest and prayed siltly. It was the emblem of the Catholic Church, with an eye inside the triangle, mysterious and intimidating.


    After a momt, he stepped under the shower, meticulously washing every part of his body. Perhaps due to the alcohol, he felt slightly dizzy, and every time he blinked, it seemed as though the whole world was spinning. He joyed that ssation, the feeling that he was the cter of the world, and everything revolved a him.


    After about t minutes, he felt more alert. He put the bathrobe back on and stepped out of the bathroom. Glancing at the bedroom, he casually poured himself a glass of water from the bottle on the table and took a sip.


    Looking at the girl sleeping peacefully in the bed, his heart began to race. Just as he was about to head to the bedroom to indulge in the night''s delights, he felt something cold and sharp press against his waist.


    In an instant, he sobered up.


    ...


    Morris was a stubborn gang member. He had joined a gang at the age of fourte. Over the past twty plus years, he had be to prison three times. The first two times were for violt acts, attempting to climb the ranks, resulting in two and three year stces for assault.


    The third time, internal gang issues arose, and while dealing with a traitor, he was accidtally witnessed by an ordinary citiz, who called the police. He took the fall for the gang''s big boss and served six years in prison. Since joining the gang, Morris had spt nearly half his time behind bars.


    This had earned him considerable siority, solidifying his status within the gang, especially after taking the blame for the boss. At that time, four people were killed. According to imperial law, Morris should have be stced to death by hanging.


    However, it was during the eve of a looming war, and society''s atttion was focused on the conflict, not the gang''s internal power struggles in some small town.


    Whether out of loyalty to his subordinates or moved by Morris'' sacrifice, the big boss did what any boss should. He spt a twty thousand dollars, bribing the judges, prosecutors, and ev the state attorney. In the d, Morris was stced to "self-defse" and "manslaughter," and with the help of a smooth talking lawyer and a hefty bribe, he received a t year prison term.


    On the last day of his sixth year, he was granted parole.


    ???¦¥?¦Ñ£¤§Á.?§°§®


    After leaving prison, the boss decided to give him a good job: raising funds for the gang. In gang slang, this role was called a "fisherman." Morris was very grateful for this. Before his release, he thought the gang might have abandoned him, and he would be giv a few thousand dollars and left to fd for himself.


    He never expected the big boss to remember him, let alone pull him out early and give him a dect job.


    Morris ambition had be worn down by his elev years of imprisonmt, so he was more than satisfied with this retiremt like job.


    Because of this job, Morris shifted his focus from gaining higher status and power to simply joying life and satisfying himself.


    It''s worth mtioning that the reason Morris joined the gang at fourte was because he recklessly fell for a girl, only to be ruthlessly humiliated. The girl was from a big city, from a good family, and well educated. She was in Ternell simply because she didn''t know where else to go during summer vacation, so she came with her frids.


    Wh the girl arrogantly lifted her head, giving Morris dirty clothes and dusty face a contemptuous glance, th mocked him with a dismissive tone, Morris felt something needed to change. He no longer wanted to cower under her aggressive gaze.


    He told himself that he had done nothing wrong. He simply liked beauty, and there was nothing wrong with liking someone.


    This led to the Morris of today, who joyed conquering well educated girls to fill the shadow left in his heart as a teager.


    However, Morris was rational. He never targeted wealthy individuals because he knew he couldn''t afford to offd the rich.


    At this momt, Morris slowly raised his hands, his eyes darting a, trying to find something reflective on the walls to see who was behind him. As he searched for an opportunity, he softed his tone. This wasn''t the first time he had countered such a situation. A few years ago, wh he was drunk and walking home alone, a similar thing had happed in an alley.


    The fact that he was still standing here meant he had survived that incidt.


    "Frid, if I''ve ever accidtally offded you, I apologize for my mistake. If you''re just looking to improve your situation, there''s some money in my coat, about a hundred dollars or so. You can take it all..." As he spoke and slowly started to turn a, there was a sudd whoosh of wind, and a blunt object struck his head hard.


    The back of the human head is fragile, unlike the front, which is sturdy. After being hit, Morris immediately felt two streams of hot liquid running from his nose. He staggered forward, bt over, and half knelt on the g. He touched his nose, and wh he looked at his hand, it wasn''t blood but a clear liquid. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He felt confused, not realizing that nosebleeds would have be much better than this transpart fluid.

 Chapter 39: Chapter 39 Action Begin

    Because that liquid was cerebrospinal fluid.


    After the brief shock, a sharp pain erupted from the back of his head, his brain throbbing. As he was about to stand up, a powerful kick landed on his rear, knocking him to the g.


    Falling wasn''t pleasant, especially since Morris was naked, having just tak a shower. His freshly washed skin made a screeching sound as it scraped against the floor. Heavy footsteps approached from behind, and th a dirty boot, which he wouldn''t have bothered to look at before, stomped hard on his hand.


    Just as he was about to scream, he saw a black shadow out of the corner of his eye, and his head was kicked to the side.


    As his consciousness began to blur, someone flipped him over. Morris eyes wided wh he saw a young man sitting on a sofa not far from him. He had se this young man three days ago in a bar called the Gold Crystal. Morris remembered how he had rejected the young man''s offer and forced him into a corner.


    Now, the tables had turned.


    Perhaps Morris, being a gang member with the boss backing him, felt he had some prestige in Ternell. His earlier weakness turned to defiance, and he snarled through gritted teeth, "Are you insane?"


    "Insane?" Julian shrugged. "Maybe. Wh someone blocks my path to money, I do go a little crazy. Have you ever heard the Guarians proverb: ''A man''s livelihood is his lifeblood.''"


    Graf, who had be stepping on Morris hand, looked dumbfounded at Julian, trying to recall where he had heard that saying, but couldn''t quite place it.


    Morris laughed in anger. "You call that worthless land worth a thousand bucks a path to wealth?"


    Julian shook his head. "It''s worth a hundred thousand!" As Morris stared in shock, Julian stood up from the sofa, walked over to him, and patted Morris carefully maintained face. "Goodbye!"


    With that, he grabbed an empty wine bottle from the table and smashed it over Morris head. The dull thud sounded like a bowstring being plucked. The bottle shattered, and Julian, holding the sharp d, stabbed it into Morris neck.


    Blood didn''t spray out like in the movies. At first, there was no bleeding, but wh Julian pulled the brok bottle out, Morris body convulsed violtly. Perhaps it was his intse movemts that caused the blood to start gushing out quickly, like a half oped faucet, rhythmically pouring out.


    If the brok bottle was the murder weapon, th Morris heart was the accomplice, as it was his heart pumping out the blood, not anyone else.


    In less than a minute, his movemts weaked, and just as he tried to raise his hand to grab something, his actions stopped abruptly.


    Julian set the bottle down. At that momt, another person tered from the foyer Kevin.


    Kevin''s expression remained calm. For a lawyer, murder cases were their favorite type of case because killers spared no expse to stay alive. After reading many case files, Kevin was no longer fazed by corpses.


    ???§¦§®§²?§Á.?§°?


    Julian stood up and pursed his lips. "Do you want to handle it, or should I?"


    Kevin glanced at the unconscious girl in the bedroom and thought for a momt. "You do it."


    Things were simple. In an era without DNA extraction, it was perhaps the favorite time of every pervert and killer. They didn''t have to worry about leaving behind any evidce. If the naked eye couldn''t see it, it didn''t exist.


    T minutes later, Julian walked out of the room, leaving with Graf and Kevin.


    Barely three minutes after they left the hotel, two police cars arrived, responding to a report they had received about a possible murder in the hotel.


    ...


    Early in the morning, wh the newspaper boy tossed the paper outside the door of 7 Que''s Road, the door oped slightly, and a hand reached out to pick up the newspaper before quickly closing again. The newspaper was carried through the hallway and placed on a dining table in the next room.


    About t minutes later, a young man walked into the dining room. He sat down on a chair beside the table and casually picked up the rolled-up newspaper, unrolling it. The front page of the newspaper, in bold and heavy type, reported the most ssational news from Ternell City yesterday.


    "The Death of the Sex Fid"


    A chilling headline. For those unaware, one might think it was the title of a movie or novel, not a newspaper article. Julian nodded in satisfaction. The headline was very accurate. After saying a quick "thank you" and withdrawing his gaze from Dave, he picked up the warm glass of milk and took a sip.


    He began reading the article line by line.


    "Late last night, a murder took place in this city. But what was unpredictable was that the victim turned out to be the real ''perpetrator,'' while the killer was actually the victim. After following up with officers and interviewing police, the reporters uncovered the truth behind this murder case.


    The tire report revolves a the death of Morris, filled with speculations and a collection of material, including information about a girl named Nasha. She isn''t from Ternell; she''s just a studt here. Her family lives in the capital of the empire.


    Her father is a businessman, her mother is ill, and with no one to care for her, Nasha was st to the countryside in Ternell to avoid the family conflict over her grandfather''s inheritance. If Morris''s soul hadn''t yet dispersed by the time this report was published, he might sigh and think, "This is all just a cycle."


    In short, Nasha killed someone, and Morris is dead.


    More importantly, the chaotic crime sce is far from what Nasha revealed in the newspaper, where she claimed to remember nothing. Prosecutor Dormier of Ternell City briefly discussed the murder case on the second page of the paper. In his view, Nasha is clearly hiding something.


    From the evidce collected at the crime sce and the conditions there, it seems there were three people in the room, not just two. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 40: Chapter 40 Meeting Again

    Prosecutor Dormier also remarked that trauma cannot cause someone to completely forget a certain period of time. Moreover, the way Morris died doesn''t seem like something a girl who had just be raped would be capable of.


    Therefore, Prosecutor Dormier believes Nasha is lying, concealing the most critical evidce, and suspects this might have be a premeditated murder."


    Julian casually tossed the newspaper onto the table. He couldn''t help but admire Kevin. The title of "famous lawyer" wasn''t just giv carelessly. Kevin had a clear understanding of how Prosecutor Dormier would react and think, which explained why there wasn''t a case in Ternell that Kevin couldn''t win.


    Wh Kevin first proposed his plan, Julian thought there was some risk involved. But now, it seemed that Kevin might as well be some kind of demon.


    Of course, spding a thousand dollars was for peace of mind. From here on, it was up to Kevin to handle things. If he failed, his whole career would be over, and that was why Julian felt reassured.


    Looking at the time, it was almost eight o''clock. According to the plan, his thirty thousand bottles of alcohol should already be in the temporary warehouse at the station. Per his agreemt with the suppliers, he needed to pay the deposit, and in the blink of an eye, over two thousand dollars were gone. The three major suppliers had no complaints about receiving only a t perct deposit.


    After all, they were the ones begging Julian to buy their products. Ev if they sold half and got paid later, they wouldn''t have said anything.


    Besides, wh supplying in such large quantities, only paying a deposit was standard practice.


    Thus, thirty thousand bottles of alcohol siltly tered the temporary warehouse at the station. Perhaps t days ago, Julian hadn''t imagined that in just half a month, his business could grow so large. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    That was a deal worth a hundred thousand dollars!


    "Yes, good, good, lift it a bit more... there, don''t move!" Following Julian''s instructions, the boys hoisted the parts of a large distiller and began assembling them piece by piece. They might not know what these things were, and they didn''t need to know. All they needed to understand was that these items were valuable.


    Under the powerful lure of money, the warehouse was quickly built. This warehouse didn''t need luxurious or high d finishes, it only needed to be watertight, windproof, and raised a foot off the g. With such simple requiremts and everyone working together, it was quickly completed.


    Once these distillers were assembled, they could start bringing in low proof alcohol in batches, distilling it into high proof liquor for sale.


    The untold wealth lying ahead filled Julian with ergy. ???§¦???§Á.???


    After assembling two distillers with the boys from the Fellowship association, Dave, who had be watching from outside, finally stepped in. He walked over to Julian and whispered something in his ear. Julian wiped the dust from his hands with a towel and instructed everyone to assemble the other distillers in the same way as the first two. Th, he turned and left the warehouse.


    As they walked, Dave said, "Our people have tracked down the whereabouts of the Hu family. After arriving at the location, they captured them, and they''ve just returned. They''re now in Warehouse T." Warehouse T was the last one built, just completed yesterday, and hadn''t yet be varnished.


    Julian nodded and said, "Good job." He didn''t say another word as they walked.


    Originally, he had giv the Hus ,800 dollars because he still had a shred of mercy in his heart. He believed that a person should keep some sse of deccy and kindness. He could have waited until Hu was completely desperate to buy the ranch, which would have saved him the ,800 dollars and the additional ,000 dollar consulting fee.


    His thought process was simple: ,800 dollars, plus whatever valuables the family might still have, would probably bring them another 00 dollars, making ,000 dollars in total.


    With ,000 dollars, whether they borrowed from relatives or frids, finding an extra 00 dollars wouldn''t have be impossible. He had left them a way out, offering them a final glimmer of hope, because he wasn''t yet the ruthless person from his dreams. But he had never imagined that this act of kindness would bring him so much trouble.


    As he prepared to face the Hu family again, Julian''s emotions were complex and hard to describe. There was some awkwardness, some restmt, and a bit of confusion.


    He pushed op the warehouse door, and the distinctive smell of fresh wood wafted out. Bright light slowly poured into the warehouse, allowing Julian to see the Hu family, tied up together. He stood with his back to the sunlight, his tire face hidd in shadow, and the people inside the warehouse couldn''t see his expression.


    Julian walked from the sunlight into the dark world of the warehouse, allowing Hu''s family to finally see who had tered. Hu let out a visible sigh of relief, and his wife and daughter visibly relaxed as well.


    Something seems off about this script?


    Actually, it was unfolding as expected. Wh Hu first returned to his family''s small, rundown home, a group of youths had pounced on him like wolves. They wielded knives, tied him up, and covered his head with a dark, opaque hood. As the black hood dropped over his vision, he recalled the past, reflected on the prest, and imagined the future, suspecting he might not have long to live.


    Hu was older and well expericed, ough to know that only two types of people used such black hoods. The first was judicial officers, who would put these hoods on prisoners, fit them with heavy shackles, and prepare the noose. It was said that people could still hear the snap of their own necks before their lives faded away.


    The second type of person was gang members. Wh a black hood covered someone''s head in their world, it meant the gang had stced them to death.

 Chapter 41: Chapter 41 Responsibility

    The judicial use of the black hood was rooted in an old belief from the Lord''s Prayer¡ªthat a dying person''s soul could latch onto the last face they saw, especially if that face fueled hatred. It was thought that such a lingering spirit could bring disease and misfortune to the living. Thus, during official executions, a hood prevted the soul from clinging to an innoct.


    For gangs, the black hood represted a death devoid of dignity or honor. They valued personal honor more than people might expect, and an ignominious death was a great shame. Dying under a black hood¡ªwhere you didn''t ev know who killed you¡ªwas perhaps the most dishonorable d.


    Hu assumed these youths were under Morris''s command, st to capture him on his orders.


    Julian shook his head with a smile. Perhaps this was the differce betwe people. If Morris had walked through the door, Hu would likely be groveling in terror, begging for forgivess, aware of the danger Morris posed to him and his family. Yet Julian''s presce seemed to reassure him. Did Hu see him as a kind man? or just someone easier to deal with?


    Julian crouched, lighting a cigarette. He''d picked up smoking since arriving in the city, though he hadn''t developed a strong habit yet. Partly influced by Mr. Kesma and partly by his dreams, smoking had become a sort of ritual. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The cigarette glowed brightly as he took a drag, the smoke cycling through his lungs before he exhaled. Licking his dry lips, he spoke, "I don''t like trouble." He smiled, examining the structure of Warehouse , adding, "Since I was young, I''ve hated trouble. I don''t like causing it for others, nor do I like others bringing it to me."


    "Mr. Hu, you''ve caused me quite a bit of trouble."


    Hu''s lips moved, and after a momt, he managed an apology. "I didn''t want it this way, Mr. Julian, but if I didn''t do it, Morris''s m wouldn''t let me go. I can''t lose my wife and daughter. For their sake, I had to deceive Morris a little. I borrowed from relatives so I could pay him back!"


    "No need to explain anything to me," Julian replied, shaking his head. "Morris has already gone to hell to atone, and soon, it will be your turn."


    Julian rose to his feet, pacing a few steps as he continued. "Honestly, I''m still shocked to hear myself saying such things. But my previous hesitation and kindness cost me dearly and nearly put me in danger. So¡­" He gave a rueful smile. "I''m sorry, Mr. Hu.


    As the presidt of the Fellowship association and an unlicsed bootlegger, I can''t afford a second foolish mistake. If we meet again, it''ll be in Heav."


    With that, Julian pressed his cigarette butt onto Hu''s forehead, drawing a scream of pain. As he let go, Julian laughed. "Look at that, my soft heart is acting up again. You fraudsters ar''t going to Heav. Have a good joury to Hell!"


    Leaving the warehouse, Julian tilted his head as Dave approached him, awaiting instructions. After a few whispered words, Julian left. He had too much to do to linger here.


    Not long after, Dave and some youths returned, carrying two wood barrels. These large wine barrels could each hold at least gallons¡ªmore than ough to contain a person. They tered the warehouse with the barrels, and Hu began to plead. "Please, let me see Mr. Julian. I didn''t deceive him!


    I really sold him the ranch. If anyone wants to trouble me, it should be Morris, not Mr. Julian!"


    §®??¦®??¦´?.§³¦¨§®


    Dave responded by kicking Hu in the face. "Morris? He''s already mingling with devils in Hell. If you''re so eager to explain, go join him."


    Hu collapsed, trembling and weak as he realized he had messed with people far more terrifying than Morris. At least Morris was only after money, but these people didn''t ev bother selling his wife and daughter¡ªthey were coming straight for their lives without any compromise.


    Dave smiled as he stroked the little girl''s head, his warm smile and handsome, well defined features almost soothing her terror.


    "Afraid of the dark? Don''t worry. Your mom will be right there with you. Just bear with it for a bit," he said before looking at Hu''s wife. "My apologies, madam. I don''t expect forgivess, no matter the reason."


    A stick landed on the back of the woman''s head, and she slumped forward. The little girl, too, succumbed to the same fate. Perhaps, Julian had shown them his last act of mercy by sding them into unconsciousness.


    "Put him in this barrel. Put them in the other. Th seal them with mud and dump them in Agate River."


    As the youths worked together to carry out the task, Hu and his family were each placed in a barrel, thick mud poured over them, the lids fasted with rivets.


    Perhaps no one would ever know that a fraudster lay hidd within these barrels.


    After hours of transport, the barrels were dumped into a tributary of the Agate River, sinking into the depths with a splash, the weight prevting them from surfacing. Evtually, they might resurface, but not anytime soon.


    With the matter settled, Dave returned to the ranch and briefed Julian on what had happed. Julian, seated on Hu''s couch, waved him away. Left alone, he lit another cigarette, staring blankly ahead.


    Wh had he become this ruthless? Why could he now so casually decide the fate of others, ev take lives without hesitation? He searched his past and his dreams, lost in thought, until the cigarette burnt down to his fingers, jolting him back to reality.


    Watching the butt roll on the floor, he chuckled bitterly. Perhaps it was his determination to avoid ding up like Hu¡ªhaving his fate decided by someone else without his const¡ªthat had led him to this state.


    This wasn''t mere cruelty; these actions were also part of his responsibility. Julian knew that behind him stood a doz youths of the Fellowship Association, their fate resting solely on his decisions. He had be soft once before, a mistake that nearly dragged his followers into a gang war. Perhaps strgth was the only path forward for him now.


    He reminded himself, It''s strgth¡ªa strgth born of survival and the need to protect my interests.


    Exhaling, he brushed the ashes from his lap, stood tall, and stepped outside, embracing the sunlight illuminating the world.

 Chapter 42: Chapter 42 Transportation Cost

    "Slow down¡­ a little!"


    "Yes, slow down a little!"


    "Alright!" Graf patted the side of the truck''s cargo bed, casting an vious glance at the young man stepping down from the driver''s seat. The young man couldn''t have be more than twty-something, yet he was already driving a truck. Graf''s childhood dream was to be a truck driver hauling cargo through city streets, freely cruising without anyone to hinder his path.


    Unfortunately, he still couldn''t afford a truck, nor did he know how to drive.


    The truck driver, Myron, was the son of Mr. Kre. Mr. Kre had invested a substantial sum in this truck, using his position and connections at the station to offer short-haul transportation services for various clits. It was clear that capitalists didn''t become successful by mere luck. His insight was sharp, and his instincts, astute.


    In less than a year, he had recouped his investmt, and now everything he made was pure profit. During particularly busy months, Myron earned more than his own father¡ªand not just by a little.


    This is the logic of supply and demand. Not everyone could afford a truck; those who could were gerally capitalists themselves. They''d prefer to spd more money on a sedan rather than buy a truck.


    What? How do they handle transportation? Of course, they let workers carry the loads! Otherwise, why provide them with food, drink, and wages? To spoil them like parts? No, they''re there to work!


    Moving ,500 crates of liquor isn''t something you can finish in one go, and this was just the first batch. All the The Fellowship Association members had come to help Julian store this liquor. Julian had giv them a dect salary and the courage to hold their heads high, so it was only right that they help him¡ªev if it wasn''t the most pleasant of tasks.


    Leaning against the cargo bed, Myron looked at the burly man beside him and patted his hairy arm. "Hey, buddy, got a light?"


    Graf rolled his eyes, took out a match, struck it against Myron''s trousers, and, with a whoosh, it ignited. Myron cupped his hands a the match, took a couple of puffs, and, after blowing out some smoke, patted Graf''s hand. Graf casually tossed the match to the g and stomped it out.


    "Tell me, why build the warehouse outside the city? The roads ar''t great. Won''t it be a hassle to transport it all back in later?" Myron, used to city deliveries, was puzzled by Julian''s choice. The roads outside the city were mostly gravel and dirt. They were fine wh the weather was clear, but a little rain would make them a nightmare.


    And rting storage within the city wasn''t particularly expsive, either. Ternell, being a small city, only charged about fifty cts a day for a hundred square meter warehouse about fifte bucks a month.


    Graf didn''t know how to answer and, with another eye roll, kept silt, watching the younger guys load the goods.


    "Because winter is coming," came a voice from the other side of the truck¡ªJulian''s voice. He walked over to Graf''s side, glanced at him, and Graf quickly joined the others at the back of the truck to continue loading cargo. "It''ll be winter in three months, and cold storage can damage certain elemts in the liquor.


    ???§¦§®???.?§°?


    I''m not exactly educated on this stuff, but appartly, too much cold affects the flavor in undesirable ways.


    "So, I bought this farm and built a specialized storage facility to sure the liquor gets through winter safely and is ready for next year''s festivities."


    Honestly, Myron didn''t really understand what Julian was talking about. What exactly changes? No one knew for sure. But he nodded along anyway, with an "Oh, that makes sse" look. He''d read more than most a here, so he needed to act like he understood, ev if he didn''t.


    "How were the road conditions on the way here?" Julian, having finished his explanation, smiled and patted Myron on the shoulder. Myron was still getting used to being patted by someone younger than him but knew well ough not to offd Julian¡ªJulian was wealthy. Myron and his father disagreed on many things in life, but they agreed on one point: don''t offd the rich.


    Taking a couple of puffs, Myron flicked his cigarette to the g and straighted up. "The road was alright, sir. Not too bumpy, no slippery spots, but it was a bit far."


    Hiring Myron for these deliveries at eighty cts per trip was reasonable, especially considering the multiple trips needed. Moving everything would take about sev or eight trips, costing a minimum of five dollars. It wasn''t easy to make five bucks back th; most station laborers only made a eight or nine a month. Only someone like Graf, with his size, could earn more than t.


    Julian''s eyes quickly fell on the truck. He ran his hand along the cargo bed, the cool metallic feel satisfying. "How much does a truck like this go for now?"


    "Five hundred fifty bucks¡ªand that''s not ev the full investmt." Julian crossed his arms and tilted his head, prompting Myron to elaborate. "For example, maintance. At least twice a year for parts replacemt and repairs, which costs about fifte bucks. Th there''s the cost of using crystals.


    "With my usual route mileage, I''m covering about three to four thousand kilometers a month. That means, on average, I''m spding a two bucks every three days, or over a hundred bucks annually. All in all, I''m looking at nearly two hundred bucks a year just to keep it running."


    At this, Myron couldn''t help sighing. Originally, he thought buying the truck for five hundred fifty bucks would be a one time investmt, only to find out it costs him an additional two hundred a year, and this all comes from his profits. If he didn''t have these costs, he''d have moved out to live on his own by now.


    Julian nodded, mtally calculating. With high proof liquor now bottled, he''d need to start planning for transportation. Relying solely on others for transport wasn''t sustainable. Transport costs made up a fair share of expses, and using third parties risked exposing certain secrets. He''d decided to buy a truck. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Buying a truck used to be a big deal for Julian¡ªfive hundred fifty bucks was like a fortune. But now, it was manageable, not ev cutting into profits much. Just fifty five bottles of high proof liquor would cover it.


    In this world, trucks and cars ran on crystals, unlike in his dreams, where vehicles ran on gasoline.


    Once a standard sized crystal was loaded into the power chamber and the chamber''s hatch closed, a catalyst would flow in wh the vehicle started.


    The catalyst''s contact with the crystal would trigger an intse reaction, producing high temperatures and pressure, which would vaporize the catalyst and create a sustained internal pressure that could drive the truck''s gears, propelling the vehicle forward.

 Chapter 43: Chapter 43 Making High Proof Wine

    Bottles of fruit wine were uncorked and poured into wood barrels. Th, someone st the barrels into the distillery, where the fruit wine was transferred into the distillation apparatus. The whole process was divided into many steps: the earlier stages required more people, while the later stages required fewer.


    This arrangemt was for secrecy, though whether the secret could be kept, Julian wasn''t too optimistic about.


    The Guar people, who had be forced to join the "gang" out of desperation, were indeed displaying loyalty for now. However, Julian doubted that this loyalty would last forever. Especially wh, through distillation, the fruit wine that was originally worth about two dollars per bottle was transformed into a high proof illegal product worth t dollars or more.


    The ormous profits created a significant impact on the minds of these impoverished youths, ough to alter some people''s values and life perspectives in a short time.


    Loyalty, after all, is just a matter of price.


    Once someone believed they had mastered this method and successfully tried it, Julian could easily imagine that a group of people would secretly leave, taking the distillation method with them to seek their own futures.


    No one could guarantee that everyone would remain loyal forever, so, in Julian''s mind, secrecy was no big deal.


    Moreover, selling this high proof illicit alcohol wasn''t part of his long term plan for the future. It was merely a way to raise funds and build his power. He ev hoped that someone would manage to steal the technique and go indepdt. That way, he could rely on these people to consolidate the market for high proof alcohol sales within the Star Empire, establishing standards and an try system.


    As the temperature in the distillery rose, a humid heat hit. The momt the first drop of crystal clear liquid with a strong alcoholic aroma dripped from the spout, Graf trembled with excitemt.


    This wasn''t just high proof alcohol; this was money, gold! From 50,000 bottles of fruit wine, factoring in losses, they could produce a 40,000 bottles of high proof alcohol. If they sold each bottle for just t dollars, that would be 400,000. After deducting the ,000 dollars in costs that Julian mtioned, the profit would be... Graf counted on his fingers¡ªa 50,000.


    His share was 40%, which meant about 0,000 dollars!


    In an instant, his breathing became rapid 0,000 dollars!


    One hundred thousand!


    Ev in his wildest dreams of becoming a millionaire, Graf had never possessed 0,000 dollars, not ev in his fantasies. But now, it was within reach.


    Unlike Graf, who was lost in his excitemt, Julian calmly watched the alcohol drip from the spouts one by one. Others might see this as a highly profitable business with a huge market, and of course, they wouldn''t be wrong. However, compared to the business giants in the commercial guilds, this money wouldn''t ev catch their eye. §®???????.???


    Since he had started reading newspapers and books, Julian had gained a preliminary understanding of the tire Empire and ev the whole world.


    The most profitable industries in the world were always those that were monopolized, like the military industry. In the front of them all were various war machines, particularly the AT war machinery and AT mobile platforms, which were currtly the most equipped in the Star Empire. Each of these machines cost over 00,000.


    Expsive, right? One machine costing that much? What was more terrifying was that the Empire had equipped over 6,000 of these machines, according to reports. And what about the ones that hadn''t be reported? Or the ones that could be assembled at any time?


    If such industries were too high d, requiring a long process of accumulation and experice to ter, what about clothing, food, housing, and transportation?


    What shocked Julian was that the most famous clothing stores in the tire Empire wer''t chain stores like in his dream but individual tailors shops. From the Emperor and nobles to commoners, their clothes were either made by themselves or sewn by a tailor for money. Going to a store to buy ready made clothes? Sorry, there wasn''t a single "departmt store" in the tire Star Empire.


    Ev if you wt to a tailor''s shop, you''d need luck to find ready made clothes that fit.


    Whether it was clothing, shopping malls, food, housing, or transportation, Julian saw each industry as a diamond mountain that hadn''t yet be mined, and a high purity, high yield op pit diamond mountain at that. There was no need to dig¡ªjust chipping off a piece could make a person, or a company, leap to become one of the most influtial brands in the Empire!


    So this small business of high proof alcohol? Julian really didn''t treat it as something precious.


    The dripping alcohol gradually turned into a stream, and the rich aroma of liquor filled the room. Seeing that the barrel was nearly full, Julian immediately instructed someone to tight the spout and push the nearly full barrel of "alcohol" aside. Th, they poured in the prepared fruit juice, stirred, and let it settle.


    In about three hours, the alcohol mixed with fruit juice would turn into the popular "Snow Elf" and "First Love" drinks. Once bottled in the redesigned bottles and labels, under Julian''s insistce, a bottle of t dollar high proof fruit wine was born. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The reason Julian insisted that the three major suppliers strictly follow his design for the bottles and labels was to create confusion. Although he didn''t treat bootlegging as his future primary industry, he still wanted to avoid unnecessary trouble.


    Wh certain special people became interested in these wines and examined the bottles and labels, they would think that this wine was imported and not domestically "produced."


    Ev if they wt abroad to look for it, they wouldn''t find this high proof fruit wine.


    Today was just the first experimtal production. Once the process and standards were confirmed, Julian wouldn''t need to come by oft. Wh a doz barrels of blded high proof fruit wine were pushed out of the tightly closed factory doors, almost everyone was shocked.

 Chapter 44: Chapter 44 How Could Someone Be This Stupid

    They wer''t shocked by the quantity of high proof bootleg alcohol, nor by the value of these products. What truly shocked them was Julian''s method of making high proof alcohol. After all, they had personally delivered barrels of low proof fruit wine inside. But wh it came out, it had turned into high proof fruit wine. Magic tricks wer''t this amazing.


    And it wasn''t just a cup or a bottle; it was over a doz barrels!


    Tons of it!


    Dave cleared his throat, and the young m, realizing their embarrassmt, quickly reined in their expressions of surprise and stood quietly to the side. Dave was also deeply shocked, though he didn''t show it, keeping his amazemt hidd. He had expericed far more than these young m, and having served time in prison, he understood the pottial profits here.


    If word got out that there was a method simpler than using Dragon Blood Wood to turn low proof wine into high proof alcohol in a short time, the world''s alcohol merchants would go mad. High proof alcohol prices had remained high for two reasons: the expsive cost of Dragon Blood Wood and the fact that it took at least half a year from brewing to market.


    If these two problems could be solved, high proof alcohol prices would drop to the level of low proof fruit wine. Ev if the Empire didn''t allow high proof alcohol sales, the price wouldn''t stay that high.


    Now, this technique was in Julian''s hands. It was like holding a mountain of gold. For the first time, Dave felt that following Julian might actually turn from a short-term occupation into a lifelong one.


    Under Julian''s orders, the youths put on long sleeved rubber gloves, cleaned up, and started bottling. As the fruit wine in the barrels decreased bit by bit, and the number of bottles awaiting sealing increased, the atmosphere in Warehouse No. grew more and more excited!


    ...


    Colt calmly watched his trusted subordinate stand against the wall with his head lowered, looking just like a child at home after getting into trouble at school, his face full of shame.


    It was supposed to be a very simple task¡ªjust to keep an eye on someone. Both Mr. Colt and this trusted subordinate of his thought it was an easy job, almost too simple. But problems arose precisely because of this seemingly small task.


    At first, this trusted subordinate¡ªwho actually had a name, Gawain¡ªthought that tailing a big guy was way too easy. Ev in a crowded place, he could spot the guy, who was a head taller than most people, moving through the crowd. He understood Mr. Colt''s intt because, after all, he was Mr. Colt''s capable subordinate.


    Wh this big lug named Graf brought in that high proof fruit wine, which had a very distinctive taste, and sold it all within two days, Gawain knew this was a gold mine. ??¨N§¦???§Á.??§®


    Mr. Colt was like the miner... no, the mine owner.


    His task was to keep an eye on Graf, see whom he was in contact with, and find out who his real supplier was. From there, the plan was to secure the supply of this high proof fruit wine and become the sole distributor in Ternell City. It was a crucial mission, and Gawain believed no one but himself¡ªMr. Colt''s trusted assistant¡ªwas capable of handling it. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    On the first day, he followed Graf back to the train station, waited outside until nightfall, and th followed him back to the workers dormitory. Gawain squatted at the corner of the dormitory wall for the tire night, evtually dozing off in the early morning. Fortunately, he remembered his mission and, as Mr. Colt''s trusted partner, woke up early.


    He watched as the workers came out of the dormitory one by one, heading to the train station. But he didn''t see Graf. His heart sank. It wasn''t until nine o''clock that Graf finally came out of the dormitory, yawning, stretching at the door, and wiping the tears and eye crust from his face with his sleeve.


    On the second day, Gawain personally saw Graf go to the station and th leave with a young man...


    If Gawain hadn''t personally witnessed Graf bringing wine to the bar to see Mr. Colt, he might not have believed that someone so prone to tardiness and early departures could have gott lucky ough to win over a supplier.


    For several days in a row, Mr. Gawain didn''t make any progress. Sometimes, Graf didn''t come out for a day or two, but whever he did, it seemed like he always wt to the train station.


    This time, though, it was ev more outrageous. Gawain hadn''t se Graf come out of the dormitory for over t days. He ev considered calling the police¡ªhad the guy gott into a fight with the workers and be killed inside? If it wer''t for the fact that he tried peeking through the dormitory window to see what was going on, he might not have discovered that the dormitory had two doors...


    "So, you stood at the dormitory trance for over t days, not knowing that Graf had already left, right?" Mr. Colt''s voice was soft, almost as if he were explaining Gawain''s mistake for him. Gawain, too ashamed to lift his head, didn''t ev know the dormitory had two doors. But ev if he had known, what could he have done? What could he have done with just one person? How could he watch both doors?


    Though filled with shame, there was a hint of stubbornness in him¡ªthis mistake wasn''t tirely his fault.


    Looking at the silt Gawain, Colt was so angry he nearly laughed. How could someone be this stupid? So stupid it made others feel despair? He must have grown to this age only because he was this world illegitimate son luck. Otherwise, such a foolish person would have died long ago.


    Luckily, Mr. Colt had dect self control. After all, he had received a good education and prided himself on being a civilized man. So wh he picked up the ashtray, it wasn''t to throw it at someone¡ªhe just wanted to move it to another spot.

 Chapter 45: Chapter 45 Liquor Business Start Again

    "Gawain, can you drive?"


    Gawain responded that he could. Before working for Mr. Colt, he had be a driver for a while. If it wer''t for a problem with the steering wheel of the car, he wouldn''t have lost that job and would never have landed his currt position.


    Mr. Colt nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. People with a skill always leave an impression. Starting tomorrow, you''ll be driving. It''s a very important job.


    The tire bar''s liquor supply depds on your timely transportation."


    Hearing that he was about to take on such an important task, Gawain was overjoyed. He pressed his lips together and nodded vigorously. "I won''t let you down, sir. I''ll become the best driver!"


    At that momt, Gawain truly believed this, and until the evt that occurred not long after, ev Mr. Colt believed it, too. After all, how complicated could picking up and delivering goods be? In Ternell City, seeing a car pass by every five minutes was considered heavy traffic!


    Mr. Colt waved his hand dismissively. "Do your job well, and that''ll be the greatest support for me. Go ahead and take over now."


    After Gawain left, Mr. Colt pulled a silver pocket watch from his coat. Wh he oped the cover, a picture of his daughter popped out. His heart warmed inexplicably, and he gtly stroked the picture with his thumb as if his daughter were right there beside him. Glancing at the time, it was fifte minutes to five¡ªGraf should be arriving soon.


    The reason he remembered today that he still had a subordinate named Gawain tracking Graf was that Graf had informed him that deliveries would start again today, with the liquor being brought over before five in the eving.


    There were t crates in total, bottles. At t dollars per bottle, that came to ,00 dollars. It was a hefty sum, but it also meant substantial earnings. With a cost of ,00 dollars, they could make at least 800 to 900 dollars in return. The final amount would depd largely on the bartders.


    A good bartder would add an extra ice cube and pour a little less liquor, saving ough that three bottles could make two extra glasses. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But as for those honest and obedit bartders, they were much more straightforward...


    At five minutes before five, Graf and two young m pushed op the door and tered, setting the t crates in the corner.


    "Is that all?" Mr. Colt frowned at the sight of the t crates with bottles. He knew all too well how popular this liquor was. Last time, they had run out, and several regular customers had complained. One frequt customer had never come back.


    Graf, who had rectly learned how to shrug, shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands. "That''s all there is. For reasons I don''t quite understand, each bar only gets this much stock each month."


    One hundred and twty bottles sounded like a lot¡ªthey could sell four bottles a day, or 0 glasses. But in reality, it was more like t glasses, because there were two types of liquor, and there were only two bottles of each, so that made fewer than t glasses.


    This supply was far from ough to meet the demand. Some customers drank three or four glasses in a single night, and a couple of tables could easily finish off two bottles.


    Though it was an honor for Mr. Colt and Wild Rose Bar to have a drink that customers loved so much, not being able to meet all their needs would turn into a hassle. ???¦¥??¦´?.???


    So, Mr. Colt blurted out, "What if I''m willing to pay a little extra? Can I get someone else''s share?"


    Graf immediately flashed a smile, showing two rows of slightly yellowing teeth. "If you don''t mind paying a little extra, it''s not impossible."


    Mr. Colt''s confidce returned. If the price wt up, it would just be passed on to the customers anyway. He smirked, "How much extra?"


    "For anything under 50 crates, it''s twelve dollars a bottle."


    "For betwe 50 and 0 crates, it''s fifte dollars a bottle."


    "For over 0 crates, it''s eighte dollars a bottle!"


    With each price Graf reported, Mr. Colt''s face darked further. Wh he heard that over 0 crates would cost eighte dollars per bottle, he wanted to bite Graf. He had se greedy merchants before, but nothing this outrageous. Why not just double the price? Mr.


    Colt quickly picked up the p on the table and did some calculations. If he wanted to order 0 crates, it would cost him 5,960 dollars, averaging over thirte dollars per bottle. After that, every additional bottle would cost eighte dollars.


    What a rip-off!


    Mr. Colt took a deep breath. "I''ll take fifty crates..." He glanced at the t crates on the floor. "Including these!"


    ...


    "Mr. Gorn, the ''First Love'' you''ve be waiting for has arrived!" The bartder expertly wiped the bar in front of Mr. Gorn again with a clean cloth, placing a coaster down. "Would you like this, or something else?"


    Gorn''s eyes lit up, and he tapped his fingers on the bar. "It''s finally here? Th I''ll have a glass. And don''t try to fool me with some other liquor¡ªits taste is quite unique and not easily replicated." After the bar ran out of "First Love," Mr. Gorn had gone to other bars. Some didn''t know about the drink, some had sold out.


    There were two bars that had it, but their versions wer''t authtic. While they had a hint of bitterness, they lacked the lingering depth that "First Love" offered, like the differce betwe a skilled woman in a red dress standing outside a high-d restaurant''s glass wall, and a noble, elegant lady in a red dress dining inside.


    The clothes might be the same, but the substance was tirely differt.


    "Don''t worry, Wild Rose Bar has a reputation to uphold!" The bartder soon served the "First Love," chilled with ice, onto the table. Under the dim lights, the ice and liquor shimmered, reflecting a mesmerizing glow. As Gorn inhaled the special aroma, he felt his heart almost swoon. He couldn''t wait and took a sip, and in that instant, his whole body relaxed.


    He felt himself once again tering a solitary, indepdt world.

 Chapter 46: Chapter 46 First Taste Of Fortune

    In this world, there was only a man, a glass of wine, and the lonely moonlight. Completely absorbed in his own world, the liquor in the glass dwindled until ev the last drop was tipped into his mouth.


    Exhaling a breath laced with alcohol, his melancholy gaze slowly lifted from the empty glass until it fell on the bartder''s face. "Was this bottle just oped?" Gorn asked. The bartder nodded. "First Love" was quite popular among middle-aged patrons, but younger people couldn''t yet appreciate the drink''s bitter, solitary taste.


    Gorn was the first customer of the night with such "taste," so the bottle was oped just for him.


    Seeing the bartder''s confirmation, Gorn smiled. "Give me the whole bottle, and refill my glass wh I''ve finished."


    Gorn didn''t ask about the price, and the bartder didn''t offer it either. The customers at Wild Rose Bar wouldn''t feel any pain from buying a bottle of wine, nor would they struggle to pay.


    The price of a full bottle was set at twty-two dollars for about 0 milliliters, ough for slightly more than four glasses, each priced at six dollars. Buying a whole bottle for twty-two was a standard and widely accepted sales concept.


    Love?


    He chuckled softly, shaking his head while humming the tune and sipping his drink. In his world, he was utterly alone.


    ...


    The quiet rollout of "First Love" didn''t meet with any setbacks. Its steady sales reassured the risk taking merchants. If "First Love" made them confidt that they wouldn''t be stuck with unsold stock, "Snow Elf" made them nearly laugh out loud with delight.


    Young people loved the icy-cool taste of "Snow Elf." On its first night at Dynamic Zone Bar, which catered primarily to younger crowds, they sold two tire crates!


    And that was without any major word of mouth promotion or wall advertisemts. A shining gold road had already appeared before the eyes of many bar owners.


    Meanwhile, Julian sat calmly in the conferce room on the second floor of 7 Que''s Avue.


    It was a house he had rted, three stories in total, costing 30 dollars a month. Initially, Graf had thought rting just one floor would be ough, but Julian didn''t follow his advice. After all, Graf''s brain was all muscle, and it would''ve be difficult to explain to him why rting all three floors was necessary.


    At that momt, in front of Julian at the large table, Graf and Dave stood by the window smoking, but their atttion was focused on Julian. Five girls were counting money. Small metal boxes were oped, and rolls of cash popped out. The girls, excited yet slightly nervous, stacked the money by domination and counted carefully.


    Wh the last coin was picked up by a girl''s delicate hand and dropped into a cup with a clear clink, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.


    Graf walked over to Julian, nervously gripping the back of Julian''s chair.


    Julian sat with his legs crossed, showing no signs of anxiety. He already had a good idea of how much had be sold and how much money they would have today.


    ???¦¥?¦Ñ£¤§Á.§³§°?


    He looked at the girl to his right and asked, "How much in total?"


    ...


    Just like wh Julian received the fruit wine from the supplier, he only paid a tth of the deposit.


    The bars also didn''t pay the full amount but followed the rules Julian trusted to Graf. They paid a minimum deposit of 30%.


    Julian wasn''t worried that anyone would dare to default, unless they no longer wanted to sell this unique, high proof fruit wine. If they defaulted, Julian had ways to recover the money, with both principal and interest.


    Capital has never be noble. It involves not only ugly exploitation and oppression but also brutal competition and suppression. Competition can be civilized or savage.


    Wh the girl, with trembling lips, announced the day''s earnings, Graf clutched his chest, and the cigarette Dave had just lit fell from his hand.


    After ing off the minor digits, the total was 9,600. Julian was quite satisfied with this figure. Although it fell 400 short of breaking the 0,000 mark, it was already an impressive sales result. And this was just 30% of the deposit. Once this batch of goods was sold out, they would collect a total of about 66,000!


    This was a step forward, and the future looked promising!


    Clutching his chest, Graf asked, "Julian, does this mean... does this mean I can get several thousand dollars?"


    Julian gave him a glance and turned to Dave, saying, "Explain it to this fool, and th tell him how much he''ll actually get." Of course, this money couldn''t be counted as pure profit. After deducting the costs, various necessary expses, and reserves, the net profit was a 5,000. Graf would take 40%, which was 6,000 dollars, and the rest belonged to Julian. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    However, Julian didn''t plan to distribute the profits as they currtly stood. It wasn''t because he was greedy or uncomfortable with Graf taking so much. Nor was he trying to covet Graf''s share. In any terprise, company, or ev a small organization that wants to grow and develop healthily, profits cannot be conctrated in the hands of just one or two people.


    These profits must be distributed and shared.


    There was a saying he found very true. In a dream, a business mogul once discussed this with the head of a consumer brand, and what the brand leader said stuck with Julian.


    "Wh wealth is conctrated, people scatter. Wh wealth is distributed, people gather."


    The principle is simple. As Julian understood it, if you try to take more for yourself, you inevitably harm those who ar''t equipped to resist risks, forcing them to leave. Whether running a business or any organization, it needs people and the help of people to succeed.


    Nothing can be accomplished without people.


    It''s not that things can''t be done alone, but without trusted people, success becomes near impossible. Thus, wealth must be shared to attract and keep these people.

 Chapter 47: Chapter 47 The Limits of Ambition

    This was what Julian wanted to do.


    He planned to take some of the shares from Graf''s side and some from his own, th spread that money a. Whether it was to win people''s hearts or smooth out the process, it was far more meaningful than keeping all the money in his own hands.


    Society is like a giant web. As we walk this network, if you can''t become a hunter, you''ll become prey. Julian didn''t want to be devoured, so he was building a web, an active one¡ªa vast and all compassing web!


    After locking all the money in a metal box, Julian slipped the key into his pocket. He casually took out a roll of cash, all in small two-dollar bills, counted out twty bills, and told Dave to distribute them among the girls. Th, patting Graf, who still hadn''t snapped out of his daze, Julian nodded toward another room, and the two of them walked inside.


    Julian closed the door behind them. The room hadn''t be rovated yet; there were only a few shabby chairs covered in dust. He walked to the window, took out a cigarette, and handed one to Graf, who was still smiling with joy. Th, he turned a, leaning his hands on the windowsill, and gazed at the few cars and pedestrians on the street below.


    Ssing that Julian had something to say, Graf came over, leaning against the windowsill with his back to the street.


    "Look a," Julian gestured to the suring buildings. Graf rolled his eyes and turned to follow Julian''s direction. Although he could only see the buildings along the street and the people walking by, there was a hint of prosperity. Julian retracted his arm, took a puff of his cigarette, shook his head, and sighed, "This is the countryside!"


    Two months ago, Julian hadn''t thought this way. In his mind, this was the big city, a bustling place. But now, looking carefully, it was nothing more than the countryside, as rural as it could get. The quiet streets, the low buildings, and the slow pace of life were perfect for retiremt but absolutely unsuitable for ambition.


    "Do you know what a real city is? A truly big city, like the capital?"


    Graf thought for a momt. "I know of them, but I''ve never be."


    Julian turned his head and looked at him seriously. "Do you want to go? Go to a big city, see the sights, and check out how the streets there differ from here. I heard there''s a 38-story steel building in the capital. If you stood on top of that building, wouldn''t the view be differt from what we see every day?"


    "Tourism?" Graf''s face broke into a naive smile, the kind oft referred to as a "fool''s smile." He scratched the back of his head, his eyes showing a bit of longing. "Sure, I''ve always wanted to visit those places, but I never had the money before. Now that I have money, I should go and see the world. Where are you planning to go? And for how long?" S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian flicked his cigarette butt away and laughed twice.


    "Tourism?"


    "No!"


    "It''s conquest!" §®??§¦???§Á.§³??


    Wh Julian uttered those words, Graf suddly felt a surge of blood rushing through his veins. A strange power emerged from within his body, filling him tirely. His face flushed red as he swung his arms, thicker than a girl''s waist, as if wanting to hit something, but there was nothing to vt on. His nostrils flared, and his breathing became heavy, making a snorting sound.


    He didn''t know what had come over him, but he felt an inexplicable impulse in his heart, though he couldn''t quite grasp it. His instincts told him this was the most important momt of his life, like wh he turned forty dollars into six thousand. Last time, he seized the opportunity, but this time, though he saw the chance, he didn''t know how to grasp it.


    It felt like he was on the brink of an explosive breakthrough, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn''t reach it.


    Pain, confusion, and frustration!


    Sometimes life is like that¡ªyou see it, but it doesn''t belong to you.


    "I have an idea. I will take out 9% of the profit-sharing rights as a reward mechanism, a way to strgth our power. If you''re willing, you can take out a portion too, and we can do this together. Of course, it''s not mandatory, so you know it''s like an early investmt."


    Graf thought for a while and hesitantly said, "How about I take out 5%?"


    He thought Julian would refuse because Julian was offering 9%, while he only offered 5%. But Graf had his own considerations. He already received one-tth less than Julian, so if he offered another 9% or %, he''d lose another tth. If Julian had asked him yesterday, he would have agreed without hesitation to take out % or more because, back th, he didn''t understand what % truly meant.


    But today, he understood.


    T perct could mean three to five thousand or ev thirty to fifty thousand.


    For someone like Graf, who had only ever saved forty dollars his tire life, offering up profit sharing worth sev to eight hundred dollars was no small feat.


    Julian didn''t object, didn''t refuse, and didn''t try to persuade him to offer more. He just nodded and said "good," and that seemed to settle the matter. He th asked Graf to bring in Dave.


    In the brief momt before Dave tered, Julian felt quite disappointed inside. He had hoped Graf would display a certain quality¡ªa leadership quality, an aggressive spirit. But, unfortunately, this guy wasn''t as strong as he appeared on the outside. He was just like an ordinary person. Wh he was so poor that he had nothing to lose, he was willing to gamble everything.


    But now that he had something, he became cautious.


    Simply put, his vision wasn''t big ough, and that was sad because it meant he wouldn''t be able to keep up, as his ambition had already reached its limit.

 Chapter 48: Chapter 48 The First Group Leader Of The Fellowship Association

    In simple terms, it''s like drawing a map.


    Two people are giv a map, and the facilitator tells them to draw circles. The wealth within the circle belongs to them. But, correspondingly, the smaller the circle, the smaller the risk; the larger the circle, the greater the risk.


    People with small visions might draw a small circle a a wealthy area, while those with larger visions would draw many circles, connecting them, or ev just draw one big circle.


    Graf was thinking about protecting his small piece of land in Ternell, while Julian was already thinking about conquering the Empire State Building. That was the differce!


    Soon, Dave came in. The young man was still as handsome as ever, which left Julian a bit speechless. His wool flat cap was pulled low, a style young people seemed to love. He wore a checkered wool sweater, revealing a pure shirt collar, paired with fitted trousers and leather shoes¡ªa far cry from the poor kid he used to be.


    Standing in front of Julian, Dave looked a bit nervous, ev though he was older than Julian.


    "I''ve heard about your past, and I regret what you''ve be through," Julian said, tossing a cigarette to Dave, who hurriedly caught it with both hands. Before Dave could light it, Julian pulled out a bronze lighter from his pocket. Lighters had only rectly gained popularity, and they were expsive, though very aesthetically pleasing.


    Many people were interested in these small, sophisticated items that symbolized status, which led to a surge in lighter sales. Anyone with some money would buy one to keep in their pocket.


    Of course, as the market expanded, more hot money flowed into the industry, leading to a flood of cheap, low quality brands. To date, there had already be more than a doz incidts of burn injuries caused by kerose leakage. As a result, people were increasingly demanding higher quality brands.


    Well known companies were doing better and raising their prices, while businesses that hadn''t built a brand were facing bankruptcy.


    Julian''s lighter was a product of "Bondy," the largest lighter manufacturing company in the Empire, with a price tag of 38 dollars.


    Dave stared at the flame, almost forgetting that he needed to lean in to light the cigarette in his mouth. He recognized the lighter, but it wasn''t its price that had him in a daze¡ªit was Julian''s gesture.


    In gangs, hierarchy and rank were strictly forced, and the more powerful the gang, the clearer these lines were. There was never a practice of superiors lighting cigarettes for their subordinates, except in one special circumstance.


    Julian was promoting him, giving him a raise in rank.


    Dave, trembling with excitemt, moved closer, cupping his hands a the flame to light his cigarette. He quickly stepped back, his facial muscles twitching as he tried to figure out how to react. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was all too sudd¡ªespecially after finding out how much money Julian had made, and now the possibility of a promotion. It was overwhelming. ?¡Ì?§¦?§²??.§³?§®


    Julian put the lighter back in his pocket and, looking at Dave''s failed attempt to calm himself, smiled. "We are a collective, we are brothers¡ªnow and in the future. I don''t believe in establishing strict hierarchies as the best managemt method, but until we find a better one, this is what we have to do, ev if it''s not my preferred way."


    "From today, you are the group leader!"


    "From now on, every month, you''ll receive 0.% of the profits from the illegal liquor trade, while the rest of the brothers and sisters will share % of the profit. Your task is to supervise the quality of our fruit wine and prevt any mistakes. Handle them."


    "Now, go tell everyone the good news!"


    Julian waved his hand dismissively. Dave, still trembling with excitemt and respect, stepped back a few paces, turned, and closed the door behind him. Just as the door clicked shut, he saw Julian standing by the window, bathed in sunlight streaming in from outside. The sce was like something out of scripture, filled with a sse of sanctity.


    As the door closed firmly, Dave''s excitemt oddly faded in the last second or two, replaced by a sse of calm, ev reverce. He slowly turned and, with a gtle smile on his face, walked into another large room. A small group of members had gathered there. Dave, now exuding authority, tered, and the room''s atmosphere instantly quieted.


    He glanced at each face before speaking with a smile, "I have two announcemts to make."


    "First, I''m now the group leader."


    A few of the younger members whistled and cheered. Dave had a good reputation among the younger crowd. First, he had siority¡ªnot only had he be in the game for years, but he had also done time in prison and had connections with several gangs in Ternell. In the eyes of these young people, respect for someone stemmed from two things:


    They could fight, or they had money.


    Hearing that Dave had be promoted to group leader was a source of couragemt for this group. In gang culture, a group leader or captain wasn''t exactly what the title suggested; it didn''t necessarily mean managing a specific number of people or overseeing specific tasks.


    The title was more like a placeholder for someone responsible for "a task." For example, if Julian needed something done, he would appoint a group leader, who would th gather people based on the task''s requiremts.


    If the job succeeded, there would be rewards, if it failed, the blame would fall on the group leader. Naturally, group leaders did have higher status and income than regular members, but with higher responsibility came higher stakes.


    Dave''s promotion to group leader meant that the association was no longer just a social club, and this excited the younger members. They felt that if they contributed to the association, they, too, could become group leaders in the future.


    Dave raised his hand to acknowledge the group''s cheers with a smile. "The second thing is, starting today, the farm will take out % of its income each month and share it among all of you!"

 Chapter 49: Chapter 49 Power Of Money

    If Dave''s promotion represted a new chapter for them, the announcemt about profit sharing directly affected everyone''s personal interests. Especially after hearing the girls earlier share their experice counting the money, these young people couldn''t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. Something as simple as that had gerated ts of thousands of dollars¡ªa truly astronomical amount!


    Some of them were already daydreaming about how great it would be if they, too, could get a share.


    As these thoughts swirled in their heads, Dave dropped the good news, and all eyes lit up with excitemt. They couldn''t help but cheer loudly.


    Sure, it was only %, and 99% wasn''t theirs. But everyone understood that ev a % share represted several hundred dollars. The association had only 9 members, so each person would get at least dollars.


    And that was just for Ternell. What if they expanded the illegal liquor trade to the tire state or ev the whole country? Th % of the profits each month could reach ts of thousands of dollars, or more!


    Being a member of the association meant receiving a monthly stipd, which they could see as a salary. Now, they would get an additional dollars or so. This sizable income would change every family''s situation, which was exactly what they had hoped for¡ªthrough their own hands and hard work, they could change their family''s difficult circumstances.


    Julian smiled as he listed to the cheers of "Long live the Fellowship Association!" and "Long live Julian!" coming from the next room. He wasn''t smiling because of their loyalty but because of the sheer power that money had over people.


    With money, you could do anything. That was the universal rule in any world.


    From the Emperor of the Empire to the common folk, no one could escape the grip of money. Perhaps money took on differt forms at higher levels, but its essce never changed.


    While the young members of the association were cheering for Julian on one street, three grim faced m were sitting together on another.


    These m were part of the city''s high d illegal liquor suppliers, controlling the mid to high d market for strong illegal liquor in Ternell. The launch of "First Love" and "Snow Elf" hadn''t affected the low d fruit wine market, because at 5 to 6 dollars a glass, these drinks were beyond the reach of low d consumers.


    So whatever changes occurred in the mid to high d market, it had no connection to the lower d market.


    But for the business of these three m, the impact was heavy.


    Ternell was a small city, and the three of them were already unhappy with how the mid to high d strong liquor market was divided. If it wer''t for the fact that a gang war wouldn''t guarantee profits exceeding the costs, they would have torn each other apart long ago. Their mutual dislike wasn''t a secret, but that didn''t mean they''d allow an outsider to ter the market. ???¦¥§®¦Ñ£¤?.?¦¨?


    In just one night, their revue had plummeted. Both young and middle aged customers had be drawn to "First Love" and "Snow Elf," either out of curiosity or guine preferce. The first day''s sales were outstanding.


    Perhaps it was just a temporary trd that would die down over time, but no matter how much it cooled off, some people would continue choosing these two drinks, taking up a portion of the market.


    Money had a way of making people do things they''d never imagine. The three m, who had previously be at each other''s throats, now sat together, united by their frustration.


    These three m, judging solely by their attire and appearance, might be mistak for members of high society. Each wore suits tailored by the finest seamstresses in the city and shoes handcrafted by the most rowned cobblers. A few trdy or classical accessories adorned them, making them look like big shots.


    But beath this exterior, they were nothing more than bootleggers, violating both imperial law and divine mandates by selling high proof illegal alcohol. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The power of money is remarkable, it can transform a person into someone else with just a little bit of spding.


    The room was small, and Wood, seated near the door, appeared to be in his forties. His slicked back hair was meticulously combed, not a single strand out of place, ev as his head moved. His thick yet short eyebrows resembled two triangular patches of hair above his eyes, and his narrow eyes gleamed with a cold, fierce light. In the tire city of Ternell, no one was unaware of his reputation.


    People "respectfully" called him "Wood the Lumberjack." At ninete, he took an ax and chopped three vagabonds who attempted to rob him into dozs of pieces. It took him less than a decade to climb to the top of Ternell''s elite. Ev today, some people would boast about his past deeds to flatter him. He was an interesting character.


    Ever since becoming one of the elites, he saw himself as differt from the people he once looked down upon. He was always careful about maintaining his image, presting himself as a cultured and sophisticated man no matter the occasion.


    No one would believe that Wood, who now wore a sull expression, could be the same man who normally appeared so gtle.


    The silce in the room made him uncomfortable, and ev his breathing became heavier. He tugged at his collar and knocked his knuckles twice on the table. "Gtlem, we need a plan. We can''t let this unknown person destroy our business!"


    Two bottles of alcohol sat on the table¡ªSnow Elf and First Love. Each man had two glasses in front of him, and they had all tasted both. They had to admit, they preferred the rich, slightly bitter flavor of First Love over the cool, fruity taste of Snow Elf. Overall, these newly introduced high proof bootleg liquors surpassed their own in both taste and quality.


    "Have you looked into these labels?" asked a man in his thirties, with fair skin and somewhat handsome features. His thick eyebrows and large eyes matched the currt societal ideals of beauty, and his flax hair gave him a refined and gtle appearance¡ªa befit of his mixed heritage, which allowed him to stand out visually.

 Chapter 50: Chapter 50 Woods Nephew

    If Julian were prest, he would be shocked to see this man. This was the very person who helped Julian earn his easiest money ever.


    His name was Ernst. He owned a wine cellar and a brewing company. Officially, he produced and sold low proof alcohol, but in reality, he was constantly producing high proof bootleg liquor. Since it was a family business, they had long since established the necessary connections. In fact, his father was a regular guest of the mayor.


    Ev though the other two m at the table wanted to get rid of him, they had to admit they didn''t have the guts to do it.


    Wood picked up one of the bottles and glanced at the label on the back, letting out a cold chuckle. "I had already asked some federal suppliers about it, and of them had ever heard of the ''Dawn of Tomorrow'' distillery, nor had they tasted such a drink."


    Julian''s plan to change the labels and manufacturing companies of the three suppliers had worked perfectly, leaving a false trail that was impossible to follow.


    Ernst nodded but said nothing. He turned to the third man at the table, an old man named Carrell. Carrell had a head of silver hair, giving him a kindly appearance, but anyone who knew him was aware of how many crimes he had committed and how many people he had killed. He survived in this world because he was ruthless. Anyone who dared testify against him would soon find their tire family dead.


    His cold blooded decisivess had led to situations where, ev wh prosecuted, there was no one left willing to testify against him.


    Of course, Carrell had survived this long because he was willing to spd money. He had plty of it, and he oft said, "If you can''t prove the value of money, th why be slaved by it?"


    He had certainly prov himself right. From the mayor to the police chief, ev a nobleman, they were all his frids. He had bought his way into their homes and into their fridships, proving the power of money.


    Carrell ran his fingers through his thinning silver hair¡ªhe was balding, so he needed to keep it curled. "There''s only be one shipmt of low proof alcohol at the station rectly. No high proof stuff."


    The other two exchanged looks. In their minds, low proof alcohol and high proof alcohol were two completely differt things. Low proof alcohol was mostly made from fruit, so it was cheap but had many flaws. For instance, it wasn''t very clear, and you could still feel the grainy ure of the fruit pulp wh drinking it.


    There was also the occasional sour taste, like that of rott fruit, which damped the drinking experice. But because it was so cheap, ev the lowest paid workers could afford it, so sales were dect.


    High-proof alcohol, on the other hand, was a differt beast. It was made with dragonwood shavings, which couldn''t just come from any tree. Only dragonwood aged at least 3 years could be used. After being dried naturally, the bark was removed, and the wood was sealed in a kiln at over 300 degrees Celsius. Once the temperature in the kiln cooled to room temperature, the wood would turn blood-red.


    §®??¦¥???§Á.?¦¨?


    This blood-red dragonwood was th finely shaved into splinters, mixed with spices, and added to a composite bld of brewing materials.


    These shavings helped purify the mash, and the higher the quantity, the higher the proof of the alcohol produced. Dragonwood splinters were single use and expsive, which kept the price of high proof alcohol consisttly high. Ev though countries had large dragonwood plantations, it was still far from ough to meet the global demand for alcoholic beverages.


    To these m, low proof alcohol was low proof alcohol, and high proof alcohol was high proof alcohol. Low proof alcohol could never become high proof, though high proof alcohol could be diluted into low proof if watered down.


    Since they couldn''t trace the new competitor threating their profits, they had no choice but to use the most straightforward method.


    "I remember the owner of Wild Rose is your nephew, right?" Ernst asked, turning to Wood. Wood''s face twitched, and he reluctantly nodded.


    He never liked to admit that Colt was his nephew, but he couldn''t dy the family connection. Colt was a distant relative of Wood''s wife who had come running to reconnect as soon as he heard that Wood had become a big shot. Somehow, through sweet talk, Colt had managed to convince Wood''s wife, and now Wood had a nephew.


    Wh his wife asked him to help Colt, Wood thought for a long time and finally decided to ld Colt some money to op a bar.


    Since Wood was involved in bootlegging, he knew very well how profitable bars could be. Colt followed his advice and oped one. On the surface, their relationship should have be fine, but the problem was Colt''s habit of taking advantage of others.


    Whever Colt''s bar ran out of alcohol, he would call Wood''s wife. She, seeing Colt as family, thought it was only natural to help him out, so she would arrange for alcohol to be delivered without discussing paymt. As a result, Colt ded up selling Wood''s bootleg liquor for free, nearly driving Wood mad with rage.


    Whever he tried to stop the shipmts, his wife would accuse him of being stingy over a few thousand dollars'' worth of alcohol, causing a commotion that forced him to continue sding free shipmts to Colt.


    Wood evtually managed to set a limit: only $3,000 worth of free alcohol per month. Anything beyond that had to be paid for at market price.


    But this nephew preferred to buy from Ernst or Carrell instead of Wood, claiming it was important to diversify his suppliers to avoid becoming too rigid and repetitive.


    If not for fear of upsetting his wife, Wood would have killed Colt with an ax long ago. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 51: Chapter 51 Wood & Colt Schemes

    So wh Ernst suggested tracing the supply chain back to the source through Colt''s bar, Wood''s face darked. He had always looked down on Colt and now had to ask for his help. However, he knew this was a serious matter and couldn''t let his personal feelings interfere.


    As for why they couldn''t approach other bars, it was because every bar in Ternell was either controlled by gangs or owned by the families of important people. None of them would agree to their request, not wanting to get involved in a brewing war.


    Colt was their only choice. Their only option.


    ...


    "Uncle Wood..." The momt the office door was suddly pushed op, Colt''s expression turned fierce as he glared at the person tering. He was just about to hurl some harsh words wh one of the two individuals, the one trailing behind, removed his bowler hat, revealing his meticulously slicked-back hair. As soon as Colt saw that hair, he knew exactly who had come. That head was all too familiar.


    Colt quickly stood up, putting on a respectful expression. He hurried over, taking Wood''s hat and coat and hanging them on a rack nearby.


    Although Wood didn''t like his freeloading nephew, he had to admit that, no matter how much you showed him disdain or cursed him, Colt would still wag his tail and stick to you like glue, shamelessly trying to please. Colt had reached the highest level of braz shamelessness. Wood''s expression softed a bit as he surveyed Colt''s office.


    As someone who prided himself on being a refined gtleman since his rise to promince, Wood had developed strict standards for both his own life and those a him.


    There were two glass-fronted bookshelves in the office, filled with books, which pleased Wood. Books were the steps to human progress, and reading more was always beficial. On the wall hung a taxidermy of a large antelope, its ormous horns twisted and macing. Ev in the wild, carnivorous predators would shy away from such a majestic animal.


    However, its presce here signified that, in the natural world, it remained weak in comparison to humans.


    The office was tastefully decorated, and Wood nodded in satisfaction. He walked behind the desk and sat down. Colt, while greeting Wood''s assistant, busied himself grinding coffee beans for Wood. "It''s rare for you to visit. Is there something you need me to do? Just say the word, and I''ll do my best to get it done.


    It will surely pay off."


    Wood was accustomed to Colt''s sly and opportunistic ways. If it wer''t for his wife''s fondness for this nephew, Colt would have be st to the slaughterhouse long ago.


    ??¨N¦®?§²?§Á.???


    "Do you have any First Love or Snow Elf here?" Wood asked, leaning forward with his hands on the desk and looking directly at Colt.


    Colt nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I rectly bought a batch, and it almost wiped out all my savings!" He sighed, "It''s expsive, but sales have be pretty good."


    Wood had remarkable patice. If he were t years younger, he would have picked up the kilogram crystal ashtray on the desk and hurled it at Colt. He wasn''t here to ask for repaymt or borrow money, so why was Colt leading with how broke he was?


    Taking a deep breath, Wood brushed it off as trivial and not worth getting angry over. He th asked, "Do you know a man named Graf, from the Guar people?"


    At the mtion of Graf, Colt instantly understood that Wood''s visit wasn''t really about him. His smile became more guine as he placed the coffee pot on the stove and sat down in a chair. "Of course, I know him. Graf is somewhat well known among the Guars, a good hearted fellow. He''s the one in charge of the First Love and Snow Elf business right now."


    Wood looked at Colt. "Good. I want you to tell him that First Love and Snow Elf are sold out and to sd another batch."


    Colt was momtarily stunned and immediately grasped the situation. He was well aware of Wood''s business, having heard about it from his aunt, and he had ev dealt with Wood himself. Knowing what Wood was up to, Colt wasn''t worried about getting dragged into this conflict. With Wood''s connections and methods, he was sure to bring Graf''s backers to their knees.


    Feeling a surge of excitemt, Colt scooted his chair forward, curiosity and eagerness in his voice. "Has he offded you? That damned Guar, a country bumpkin!" He spat out a few curses at Graf before continuing, "I have no objections if you want to deal with Graf... but once that''s settled, could you let me take over the distribution of this new product?"


    The idea had ignited a stronger desire in Colt. With Wood''s support, he could use these two products to become a major player in Ternell, second only to the top three. The prospect was too tempting. However, wh he saw Wood give him a disdainful glance and shake his head, Colt knew his ambitions were dashed.


    Leaning back in his chair lazily, Colt spoke with a hint of bitterness, "Uncle Wood, it''s not that I don''t want to help you, but as I mtioned earlier, all my working capital is tied up in this batch, so I can''t afford to pay for a new shipmt right now."


    If he couldn''t get the big reward, he might as well drink from the pot for now. Plus, buying a new batch of alcohol wasn''t cheap. Ev last time, wh they only required a third of the paymt upfront, it was still a considerable sum.


    Predictably, Wood''s eyes twitched. He pulled out his checkbook, glaring at Colt with a look that showed just how much he detested him. Colt, however, grinned shamelessly. "Fifte thousand!"


    "Fifte thousand? How could it possibly add up to that?" Wood asked, frowning as a drop of ink fell onto the checkbook. He''d heard that the bottles sold for a t or so each, so how could it possibly add up to fifte thousand?


    S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 52: Chapter 52 Suspicion

    With an innoct expression, Colt explained, "Just one hundred cases... and Uncle, who knows? You might ev make that money back!"


    It wasn''t a small amount, but Colt wasn''t wrong. Once the money was giv to Graf, and they traced it back to his supplier, neither Graf nor his supplier would need to stay alive, and the money would naturally find its way back into Wood''s pockets.


    Switching to a larger checkbook, Wood wrote a check for six thousand and tossed it to Colt. "This is the deposit. Do you really think I''ve never done business myself?"


    Colt smiled obsequiously, not daring to argue. He took the check, flicked it with his fingers, and happily tucked it into his pocket. At the same time, he stepped out into the hallway, pulling on a cord. On the other d, behind the bar, a bell rang. Every time Colt pulled the cord, the bell would chime, signaling the bar staff to come over.


    Before long, a short young man hurried over, wiping his hands on a towel. "Mr. Colt!"


    "Find any Guar out on the street and tell them to inform Graf that Wild Rose Bar needs one hundred cases of alcohol. I''ll provide ough of a deposit." Colt pulled two fifty-ct coins from his pocket, placing one in the young man''s hand. "This is your tip for running the errand." He th placed the other coin into the young man''s hand as well. "This is for the Guar.


    They won''t run errands for you for nothing. Got it?"


    The young man nodded excitedly, clutching the coins as he ran out the door.


    Most of the Guars lived on King''s Avue, which wasn''t far from here. Despite the grand name, King''s Avue was no rich district but rather a slum, where the city''s poorest residts lived. Those who lived in the slums knew most of their neighbors, at least by reputation.


    In contrast, the wealthy residts of neighborhoods like Malt Gard oft didn''t ev know how many people lived across the street from them.


    The richer you were, the colder you became¡ªa universal truth in all parts of the world.


    The young man quickly found a Guar, offering him twty cts. "Please tell Graf that Wild Rose Bar needs one hundred cases of alcohol."


    Wh Graf heard from a snot-nosed child, barely sev or eight years old, that Wild Rose Bar needed a hundred cases of alcohol, he had a strange feeling, as though someone might be trying to trick him. After asking a few questions, he learned that an adult had paid the child five cts to deliver the message. Fortunately, the kid had some sse of duty. Otherwise...


    One hundred cases were no small order, worth nearly sixte thousand dollars. Graf was puzzled, as he had only delivered fifty cases rectly. Had they really sold out in just three or four days? Something didn''t seem right.


    ... §®¡Ì¨N??¦Ñ??.???


    "Wild Rose ordered so much stock at once, I think there might be a problem."


    Graf stood beside Julian and voiced his thoughts. He had checked, and the alcohol was delivered three days ago. In just three days, fifty cases of alcohol were sold? That''s way too fast! Maybe the ormous profits from selling high-proof bootleg liquor were making Graf, a big guy as sturdy as a bear, feel nervous.


    Julian had his own perspective on Graf''s concerns.


    First of all, it''s not accurate to say fifty cases of alcohol were sold in just three days. That''s a misconception. No expericed merchant would wait until their invtory is completely depleted before thinking about restocking, so the Wild Rose Bar should still have some stock left. In the business world, there''s a well known but unspok rule: wh invtory drops to 30%, it''s time to restock.


    This means the Wild Rose Bar probably still has about a doz cases of alcohol.


    Secondly, Graf made another mistake. The fifty cases of alcohol were actually split into two differt categories, so it''s more accurate to say there were twty-five cases of each, making fifty in total. Based on differt customer preferces, the sales volumes of each category could vary. If each type sold about a doz cases in three days, while exaggerated, it''s not impossible.


    That''s a thirty or forty bottles a day per type. Calculating five servings per bottle, that''s less than two hundred servings.


    Julian wasn''t sure how many customers the Wild Rose Bar hosted daily, but if we assume each customer drank two servings, and two hundred customers chose their drinks, the restocking demand wouldn''t be that surprising.


    While these numbers might seem a bit exaggerated, it''s not impossible. Besides selling drinks by the glass to customers on-site, the bar also sells bottles for customers to take home. If someone really liked "First Love" or "Snow Elf," they might buy a bottle or two to drink at home or purchase several bottles for a party.


    With that in mind, the Wild Rose Bar''s sales figures don''t seem unreasonable, and there''s nothing particularly suspicious going on. At most, it means the bar''s positioning is excellt, and both types of alcohol have a broad appeal among its customers.


    After explaining this to the muscle bound giant Graf, Julian st him off to handle the delivery. Julian believed that as the new flavors of high-proof fruit liquor continued to sell and resonate with customers, the supply would only increase. This meant buying a truck needed to be prioritized. After all, they couldn''t expect the guys to carry two cases each and run to make the delivery, right?


    Ev using carts or horse-drawn wagons would carry risks.


    Julian thought for a momt and knocked on the bell at the corner of his desk. The sharp sound pierced through the air, and the office door immediately oped. Over the past three days, a simple rovation of the first floor of No. 7 had giv it a slightly more commercial feel.


    Dave pushed the door op and stuck his head in, "Boss?" S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 53: Chapter 53 Unexpected Encounter With The Police

    Julian waved him in, and Dave stepped inside, closing the door behind him.


    "Wild Rose Bar ordered a hundred cases, and Graf thinks there''s something off. I st him to deliver it, but we can''t ignore his concerns. It could be, as he suspects, a trap this time," Julian said after thinking for a momt, organizing his thoughts. "We''ve shak up the original market with what we''re doing, so it''s bound to provoke a reaction from the big players.


    Tonight, take some m, arm yourselves, and follow them. If anything happs, handle it."


    Dave was now the only team leader within the community association, so if Julian needed to assign someone, it would naturally be him. He was earning more money and holding a higher position than the others, so it was only fair that he took on more responsibility.


    Dave nodded firmly, indicating he understood. Before leaving, Julian reminded him again to be careful and not act unless absolutely necessary. But once they did, they had to clean up thoroughly.


    Julian didn''t have his own network in Ternell City yet, and he was still navigating in the dark. His only real connection was Kevin. Kevin had promised to introduce him to some contacts, but that would take a few days.


    As this crossed his mind, Julian''s gaze drifted downward to the newspaper.


    "Prosecutor Camille has filed charges against the out of town girl Nasha, stating that he has solid evidce proving that the man known as ''Leather Pants,'' Morris, was killed in a premeditated murder. This case has drawn atttion across the city. Rising star lawyer Kevin expressed his strong dissatisfaction with Camille and the city court.


    He hinted that Camille''s true motivation for prosecuting Nasha was to secure a high profile case that would help him rise to the position of State Prosecutor."


    "Kevin''s plan," Julian smiled. They had set up a crime sce full of holes, all to draw out Prosecutor Camille. Th Kevin would strike and bring him down. In the world of lawyers, prosecutors are lifelong adversaries, constantly challging every argumt, scrutinizing every piece of evidce to find fatal flaws.


    Kevin had already signed a contract with one of the three top law firms in the capital, Wier Law, but before leaving, he had to score one impressive win. A case that would show the snobby capital lawyers that ev someone from a small town like Kevin couldn''t be underestimated.


    There was no case better suited for that than this one¡ªtaking a hopeless case, where all the evidce pointed to Nasha being guilty of conspiracy to murder Morris, and flipping it tirely.


    Not only would this land a heavy blow on Camille, who had a high chance of becoming the next State Prosecutor, but it would also gain widespread public and social support, making people temporarily forget Kevin''s past associations with questionable clits. This was the gift Kevin had prepared, both for himself and for Julian.


    Once Kevin won this case, he would gain respect in Ternell''s high society. The wealthier the setting, the more likely it was to hide filth in its corners. Were the city''s powerful elites truly as clean as they appeared? No. No one was clean. That''s why they would all want a "brilliant lawyer" frid like Kevin.


    Once Kevin had public support, the backing of the legal community, and the dorsemt of high society, he would have the key to his career''s pinnacle.


    At that point, he would introduce Julian to the others. Whether out of respect for Kevin or not, they would accept Julian.


    Of course, Julian would need to contribute something as well. ??????£¤?.?¦¨§®


    Money.


    Not just a few hundred or thousand dollars.


    But thousands, perhaps ts of thousands, to win over those who could help Julian''s career.


    The chief of police, the head of the Imperial Tax Office, the leader of the Imperial Gdarmerie, and ev the mayor of Ternell City!


    That''s why the $5,000 profit was still sitting in the safe. Julian needed that money.


    Night descded without people noticing, deeping as they got caught up in other things. The streetlights flickered on, but there wer''t many pedestrians. Three horse drawn wagons trotted along the road. For the wealthy, cars were their go to transportation, but for the average person, horse drawn wagons were still more familiar.


    As the three wagons neared their destination, just one intersection away from the Wild Rose Bar, they ran into a bit of trouble.


    Two police officers in gray uniforms stopped them.


    "What''s in the wagon?" One officer approached the back and lifted the canvas covering with his rubber coated baton. Inside, it was packed with goods, but in the dim light, it was hard to make out exactly what was there.


    Graf stood to one side, scratching his head with a silly grin. "It''s food. A kind hearted gtleman gave us some food, and we''re taking it to the orphanage."


    The officer sneered, placing his foot on the wagon''s footboard and grabbing the side to hoist himself in.


    Has anyone ever asked you how much you would risk for a big reward? To do something you knew was dangerous, something that violated both morals and the law?


    Nobody had ever asked Graf that, but it didn''t matter, because he had already made up his mind. His past struggles and the happiness he now held tightly in his hands left him no doubt about his choice.


    Wh a person has nothing, they don''t care much about loss or gain, but wh someone who once had nothing finally possesses something, their greatest fear becomes losing it.


    The smile on Graf''s face slowly faded. In the dim light, his usually dull eyes gleamed with a cold glint. He raised his hand and firmly gripped the police officer''s hand, which was holding onto the wagon''s edge. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The officer, halfway into the wagon, paused and turned to look at him, an unspok disdain in his eyes. "What are you trying to do?" he asked.

 Chapter 54: Chapter 54 Bloody Actions

    Graf reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of money. This was the pocket money Julian had giv him, a small compsation from the first of profits. Graf had no complaints; he knew that without Julian, he wouldn''t be able to handle anything. Besides, it wasn''t a small sum¡ª0 dollars. After spding some on food, drinks, and wom, he still had over 70 left.


    For most people in these times, that amount of money was equivalt to what they could save after a year of scrimping and saving. Graf stopped counting after a few bills and shoved the rest directly into the officer''s pocket, gtly patting it afterward, smoothing out the wrinkles on the officer''s coat.


    "It''s late, officer. You must be tired from patrolling all night. Why not head to the restaurant ahead and grab something warm to eat?" Graf''s tone was soft and ingratiating, but his eyes told a differt story.


    To Julian, Graf might seem simple and foolish, but that didn''t mean Graf lacked life experice. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    What is life experice?


    Life is like a gigantic, reltless giant that constantly slaps everyone across the face. Wh you feel the sting from one of those slaps, that pain is life experice. Everyone grows through repeated blows until they learn ough to dodge wh life''s hand swings again.


    Graf had life experice, so he handled the situation in a way he believed would work.


    Under the dim streetlight, the officer''s eyes gleamed with greed, brighter than the light itself. He had se the money Graf was counting¡ªat least 50 dollars. His experice told him there was no less than 50 dollars in that roll. But 50 wasn''t ough to satisfy him. If Graf was willing to part with 50 dollars, the cargo in those wagons must be worth much more.


    It could be hundreds, ev thousands of dollars or more. As a police officer, he knew all too well about the shady dealings in Ternell City. He knew how the big players built their empires, and he knew who ran the dirty businesses. That''s why he had stopped these wagons¡ªbecause he didn''t recognize the m with them. They were new faces.


    Never underestimate the power of the unspok rules. Both the gangs and the police adhered to a code that most people couldn''t see. Every operation, every scheme had its procedures. But tonight was differt¡ªno one had informed him about any deliveries on this route. This felt like an opportunity. And wasn''t it his duty, as a police officer, to uphold justice and stop crime?


    Fully climbing into the wagon, the officer caught a faint whiff of alcohol. A flash of elation crossed his face. Just as he knew this city inside and out, he also knew the incredible profits from bootleg liquor. If this wagon''s cargo became his, he could leave this city immediately, no questions asked.


    But to be sure, he decided to pry op one of the crates. After all, the cargo might just be low-proof fruit wine instead of stronger, more lucrative contraband.


    The wood creaked under the pressure of his baton as he pried it op. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled out a bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig. His face instantly flushed red.


    Just as the officer decided to seize the cargo, Graf made a tough decision. The wagons had stopped, and the young m in the back were gathering. Graf glanced at the other officer, who was leaning against the wagon''s driver''s seat, smoking. A few of the boys nodded at him in understanding.


    Graf th pulled out a short steel rod from behind his back and climbed onto the wagon.


    Ever since Morris''s murder, Graf knew he had tak a differt path, and one day he''d have to make choices like this.


    ???¦®§®??§Á.?§°§®


    But he had no regrets.


    The wagon swayed slightly as Graf boarded. The officer inside turned, ready to intimidate the large man, just as he was about to take control of the cargo. But before he could speak, Graf swung the steel rod¡ªcommon on construction sites¡ªstriking the officer on the head.


    Graf quickly stepped forward, catching the collapsing officer and quietly laying him down.


    Outside, the smoking officer had just crushed his cigarette underfoot wh he realized something was wrong. As he reached for his gun, the group of boys suring him moved in closer, crowding him. His hand reached for his holster, but the young m pressed in too tightly.


    His gaze drifted down, and he saw it¡ªa knife pressed against his waist. The sharp sting of the blade was unmistakable, ev through his clothing. He hadn''t panicked yet. He hadn''t expected them to actually pull a weapon. But soon ough, fear crept in. The terror in his eyes replaced the earlier disdain.


    As he oped his mouth to shout, one of the boys covered it, while another swung a brick, hitting him squarely on the head.


    The tire altercation took less than t seconds. With the help of two or three boys, the officer was dragged into the wagon.


    Graf, his excitemt barely contained, wiped the blood from his steel rod onto the officer''s uniform before taking the money from his pocket. He spat on the g, sheathed his knife, and nodded.


    The curtain of the wagon was drawn back. Graf helped lift the second "sleeping" officer inside, and the wagons resumed their slow journey.


    Apart from a few faint bloodstains, there was little evidce of what had happed. Ev if there had be witnesses, who would dare say or do anything?


    If this group was bold ough to attack police officers, would they hesitate to harm ordinary citizs?


    Under the dim streetlights, the three wagons gradually disappeared into the night beyond the intersection, as if they had never stopped.


    A few momts later, a terrified bystander peeked out from the shadows of a nearby alley, shivering as he looked toward where the wagons had vanished.


    He was just a simple vagrant, not looking for trouble. He decided to leave.


    As he hurried away, fear and panic caused him to bump into another passerby.


    There wer''t many people on the streets of Ternell City at this hour, especially in this less busy area, where pedestrians were scarce after 8 p.m.

 Chapter 55: Chapter 55 Proceeding With The Transaction

    Apologizing, he looked up, only to find himself facing another group of young m. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The leader wore a flat cap and a trch coat, its op front revealing a checkered wool sweater underneath.


    "Watch where you''re going!" the young man said.


    The vagrant nodded repeatedly. The young man seemed to reconsider something, th reached into his pocket, pulling out a one dollar bill and tucking it into the vagrant''s coat.


    "It''s getting cold. Go buy yourself something warm for the winter."


    Stunned, the vagrant watched as the group walked away. It wasn''t until they were out of sight that he finally looked down at his torn pocket, where the one dollar bill lay siltly.


    "How do you use this thing?" Graf asked as he toyed with the handgun he had tak from the unconscious police officer. He wasn''t guinely interested in learning how to use the weapon, but he needed something to distract him from the fear gnawing at him after the attack on the police.


    In the momt he knocked out the officer, Graf had felt a surge of bloodthirsty excitemt, as if some long suppressed instinct had suddly be unleashed. But after that brief rush, he returned to being a regular person, filled with anxiety and fear.


    Wh people cross the boundary of law, they feel an overwhelming power in that momt, as if they are no longer restrained by law, morality, or society, and can become a differt person tirely, free to do as they please.


    However, once they step back from that boundary, they, like Graf, start to worry. The chains of law, society, and morality bind the most complete version of a person, locking their true self deep within their soul, never to see the light of day.


    That''s why he needed something to occupy his mind, to keep from dwelling on the consequces of attacking a police officer.


    His question was a good one, because most of the boys in this group came from single-part homes¡ªfathers who had be forcibly drafted to the front lines as cannon fodder. Because of this, they all had some familiarity with firearms.


    No sooner had Graf finished speaking than a boy named Simoric took the gun from him, holding it expertly.


    "First, you need to decide whether you actually plan to use it. See this part?" Simoric pointed to a small button near the grip of the gun. "You press this down, th push this up... and you''re ready to shoot."


    In this world, firearms still used crystal ergy as their driving force. It seemed the whole world revolved a these crystals¡ªlarge machines of war were powered by them, as were steam gines. The base of the handgun''s grip housed a sealed ergy chamber, and as long as the heat ergy from the crystal wasn''t fully depleted, the steam pressure would keep the chamber sealed.


    Wh the safety mechanism was toggled, the crystal was pushed into a catalyst chamber, triggering a reaction. ?¡Ì¨N¦¥?¦Ñ??.???


    Once the trigger was pulled, the projectile, or "bullet," was launched by the immse pressure, capable of causing lethal damage.


    The bullet was a hollow metal cylinder, just 7 millimeters in diameter and ctimeter long, with a conical tip. The range of this police-issued handgun was only about twty meters, with a firing rate of just two s per second.


    In the military, there were larger firearms with a variety of uses¡ªover a doz types in total. Some could fire continuously, with rates reportedly reaching five s per second. The most powerful automatic weapon, however, was likely the heavy gun mounted on the AT platform, with twelve barrels...


    Graf quickly learned how to operate the relatively simple handgun. After fiddling with it for a bit, the Wild Rose Bar came into view.


    Compared to the dark stretch of road they had just traversed, tering the cter of Ternell City was like stepping into a differt world¡ªbrighter, more bustling. Nearly all the city''s wealth and activity were conctrated within these few blocks. The wagons circled a to the back alley of the Wild Rose Bar, avoiding the front trance.


    The bar''s employees, already waiting, quickly called out for Mr. Colt. As soon as Colt saw Graf, he spread his arms wide, stepping forward to give the large man an awkward hug. Wh they parted, Colt glanced down at his clothes, noticing a smudge of dirt. Though he inwardly cursed Graf, his face showed nothing but happiness. "Fantastic!


    I must say, your stuff is amazing. I didn''t expect we''d need to restock so soon. So, did you bring my goods?"


    Graf stepped back, uncomfortable with the perfumed man''s embrace. "Of course. Where''s the money?"


    "Right here!" Colt pulled out a check and handed it over. He did have cash, but that was his own. The check, however, was Wood''s. Checks were the most widely used form of currcy in the world of capital, ingrained in everyday life. The Imperial Ctral Bank had ev issued checkbooks with a maximum limit of five thousand dollars per check.


    As long as the amount did not exceed the check''s limit and had the proper signatures and codes, it could be cashed at the bank.


    Graf couldn''t tell if the check was guine, but he remembered Julian''s advice: don''t worry about Colt not paying up¡ªunless Colt didn''t want to see the sunrise the next day. It wasn''t an idle threat. As a businessman dabbling in illegal activities, Colt knew full well the consequces of cheating. If he took what wasn''t his, he had better be prepared to lose the hand that reached for it.


    After pocketing the check, Graf looked at him again. "There''s more."


    "More?!" Colt froze for a momt. "I just gave it to you!"


    Graf gave him a strange look, forcing Colt to check himself for anything out of place. He was acting so naturally that Graf couldn''t tell whether he had truly forgott or was putting on a show.


    "The balance from the last shipmt. You''ve sold most of the goods already, so it''s time to settle the account." Graf reminded him, and Colt''s face fell.

 Chapter 56: Chapter 56 Inevitable Gang War

    He had be so focused on pocketing a hundred cases of alcohol on the side that he had completely forgott that restocking meant settling up the previous balance. Illegal liquor wasn''t a legitimate business, and it was under the constant threat of crackdown by both imperial and religious authorities. No bootlegger ever allowed a buyer to hold back paymt.


    The rule was simple: each shipmt was paid in full as soon as it was sold. No one had ever heard of paying for illegal goods on an installmt plan.


    It wasn''t a small sum¡ªseveral thousand dollars!


    Because it was no small amount, Graf''s expression gradually darked, and a deadly aura began to emanate from him, likely heighted by the fact that he had just killed someone. The murderous intt was so thick it seemed to seep from his very being.


    Colt blinked, th quickly laughed. "Of course! I was just messing with you. Don''t take it seriously!" He raised his hand, intding to pat Graf''s shoulder, a habit of his. Colt liked to do this to show his superiority over others, but in this momt, his hand froze in midair.


    It was as if an invisible wall had ris betwe Colt and Graf, stopping him from crossing the boundary.


    Colt gave a dry laugh and waved his arm. "Wait here a momt. I''ll go get the money. Can''t exactly carry that much cash on me, can I? I had to make sure you were really here first."


    This explanation made sse, and Graf''s deadly glare began to fade. Colt quickly rushed back inside the bar, cursing under his breath.


    "Damn filthy Guar," he muttered, glancing at the dark stains on his clothing, his hatred for them growing. Wh he reached his office, he oped his safe and pulled out the remainder of the paymt, stacking the bills together. It pained him to see the money¡ªhis "little darlings"¡ªleaving him.


    Returning to the back door, Colt quickly handed over the cash to Graf, watching as the big man tucked the money into a small iron box. The sight filled Colt with an overwhelming sse of loss.


    That was his money!


    Siltly, Colt cursed them, hoping they wouldn''t survive the night.


    Once all the goods were unloaded into the bar''s storage, Graf and his m left with the money. Colt, still smiling, waved them off at the back door as if he couldn''t bear to see them go. Yet his lips moved, siltly spitting out every foul word he could think of.


    Back in the office, Wood suddly appeared.


    Tonight''s business was no small matter, so there was no way Wood wouldn''t personally oversee it. He had stayed out of sight earlier to avoid any accidtal counter with Graf in the office. Instead, he had be hiding at the bar, warming himself with a drink.


    Just as Wood was about to speak, his eyes sharped. He strode toward Colt, who instinctively held his breath. Wood extded a finger and touched the two dark, sticky stains on Colt''s clothes, sniffing them.


    With his previous experice in killing many gang rivals, he immediately knew what it was. His expression turned grim. ?¡Ì?????§Á.§³§°?


    Pacing back and forth a few times, Wood put on his hat and quickly headed out.


    Watching Wood hastily disappear into the night, Colt looked down at the two dark stains on his shirt. Mimicking Wood''s actions, he touched the spots with his fingers, rubbed them, and sniffed, coming to a simple conclusion¡ªthe Guar are filthy!


    What Colt couldn''t understand was that the stains were actually dried, oxidized blood, and he certainly didn''t realize that Wood had rushed off because he underestimated Graf and the others.


    A person who has harmed or ev killed someone experices a profound change in mtality. Before crossing that line, they are bound by society''s moral and ethical rules, always seeking to resolve conflicts peacefully. But once that line is crossed, their perspective shifts completely. This was something Wood knew all too well.


    Before he killed those three vagrants who had tried to drag him into an alley, he had be a dreamer. But after taking lives, he stopped dreaming¡ªbecause he had realized and achieved his "dreams" through force.


    Crossing the line of morality isn''t difficult; it only takes a small step forward. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Once someone has crossed that line, wh they face danger, they no longer think about how to defuse it. Instead, they draw their weapon and eliminate the threat tirely.


    Wood had initially thought that these new faces, Graf and his group, were just inexpericed kids. But now he realized his mistake¡ªthey wer''t sheep; they were wolves.


    It wasn''t tirely Wood''s fault for misjudging them. His years of experice, while invaluable, had caused him to overlook some basic truths. These newcomers hadn''t made any introductions or sought permission from the established powers before tering the market, nor had they st anyone to smooth things over. They had simply barged in, breaking the unspok rules of the underworld.


    New players had to respect the existing order, or they would face consequces¡ªsometimes losing money, sometimes losing their lives.


    However, those drops of blood made Wood realize that this wasn''t just about cutting out a small, inconvit branch from a larger tree. This was war.


    War is a terrifying concept, whether it''s betwe nations, gangs, or factions. In war, one side is completely wiped out, and any ceasefires or reconciliations are just delays in the inevitable outcome.


    Wood wanted to push these new faces out of Ternell City and reclaim his share of the market, but he didn''t want to wage war.


    Unfortunately, he had chos the wrong opponts and used the wrong strategy.


    After years of dominance, Wood had grown overconfidt, leading him to make a grave error in judgmt.


    Standing at the dark crossroads, the chill autumn wind biting at his skin, Wood felt lost. He didn''t know which way to turn, much like how he now stood at a crossroads in his life, filled with uncertainty.

 Chapter 57: Chapter 57 Capturing Woods Men

    Meanwhile, the three wagons were moving faster on their return journey than wh they had arrived. Having unloaded a hundred cases of alcohol, ev the horses seemed more spirited. In the back of the wagon, Graf lifted a hidd compartmt and stashed the money box inside.


    Julian had specifically requested the compartmt be built, not just to hide money, but also to store contraband in case of a search.


    Sitting in the wagon with the two unconscious police officers still lying at his feet, Graf couldn''t shake the feeling of unease. He glanced at the officers, unsure of what to do next. After all, these were police officers, and no matter where they were dumped, their discovery would undoubtedly cause big problems. For now, taking them back to the farm seemed like the best option.


    Perhaps Julian would have a better solution.


    The wagons had be traveling for about t minutes wh they left the bustling cter of Ternell City behind. The streets grew quieter, with only the occasional passerby, heads down and hurrying along.


    Graf, lulled by the wagon''s movemts, dozed off.


    What Graf didn''t know was that, just as Wood was unaware of Graf''s path, Julian had arranged for Dave and his m to follow them to prevt any surprises.


    At that momt, Dave was watching as five or six m in felt hats and trch coats trailed the wagons. After thinking it over, he decided not to make a move just yet. It wasn''t that he was afraid¡ªfar from it. But there were too many people in the city, and who knew wh a vagrant might pop out of a dark alley like earlier? If a fight broke out and someone witnessed it, things could go south quickly.


    On top of that, the m following the wagons didn''t seem to want to intercept them. They were keeping a safe distance, which made Dave think it would be better to wait until they reached the outskirts before confronting them.


    Ternell City wasn''t large. About forty minutes outside the city cter, the buildings had become smaller and more run-down. After passing the last intersection, ev the streetlights disappeared. The only light in the darkness was the faint moonlight and the dim glow from the wagon''s lamps, like a lure for the "fish" trailing behind them.


    Wh they were just t minutes from the farm, Dave and his m sprang into action. As they charged forward, the m following the wagons, alerted by the noise, immediately scattered, diving into the tall grass on either side of the road. Dave quickly split his group in two, pursuing a couple of the stragglers, shouting orders as he ran.


    The sudd noise roused Graf from his sleep. He wiped the drool from his mouth, groggy but alert ough to hear the commotion.


    "Stop the wagons!" Graf knocked on the wood panel betwe the driver''s seat and the back of the wagon. The three wagons came to a halt. Graf jumped out, shivering slightly in the cool autumn air. The breeze brought with it the sound of Dave''s voice.


    "We got one! Don''t let the other one get away!"


    That single stce was ough to snap Graf fully awake. The muscles in his cheeks twitched, and he banged on the side of the wagon, pulling down the oil lamp. "Hurry! Let''s see what''s going on!" ???¦¥?¦Ñ£¤?.§³?? S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With the added light, two more of the stalkers were captured and tied up, their hands bound as they were hauled into the back of the wagon. Graf looked curiously at Dave and asked, "What''s this? Out catching thieves in the middle of the night? What did they do to piss you off?"


    Dave, looking a bit disheveled with grass stuck to his beloved checkered wool sweater and mud on his shoes and pants, panted heavily as he responded, "These guys¡­ they''ve be tailing you ever since you unloaded the goods. I thought something was off about them."


    ...


    "In this world, tertainmt options were limited. Without the luxury of television, most people turned to simple pastimes like reading the newspaper or finding their own ways to pass the time. Many busied themselves by having as many childr as they could while still able to work.


    Some, however, might not have truly wanted so many childr, but didn''t know how to avoid it.


    Julian, still single, didn''t ev have that distraction, so he simply wt to bed early."


    By the time Graf returned, it was already past t. Julian had long be cozied up in his warm bed, fast asleep. Despite the Hu family''s poverty, they had kept their house well maintained, especially the beds and lins.


    Just as Julian was deep in a bizarre dream, a knock on the door startled him awake. He immediately sat up, reaching under his bed for the dagger he kept hidd there, gripping it tightly in his hand.


    "Who is it?" His voice was calm and steady, showing no signs of panic or fear. He quietly slipped out of bed, threw on a piece of clothing, and stood outside his bedroom door.


    Soon ough, a familiar voice answered from outside. "It''s me. Are you asleep?" Graf''s deep voice, which always sounded a bit muffled, came through the door. Julian wasn''t sure if all big guys sounded like that, but Graf certainly did.


    Julian tucked the dagger into the waistband at the back of his pants and oped the door. Standing there was Graf, still dressed in the same clothes from earlier, with no time to change. Julian looked him up and down before asking, "Why ar''t you sleeping? What''s going on?"


    Graf hesitated, scratching his head, unsure of how to begin. After a long pause, he finally spoke, "We attacked two police officers on the road¡­ and caught some people who were following us."


    Julian''s drowsiness vanished at Graf''s words. He turned back to quickly dress and th followed Graf outside. As they walked, Graf recounted the evts from the afternoon and eving. Julian had no complaints about Graf''s choices.


    Allowing those police officers to take the shipmt and get away with it might seem like an easy solution, but it would only feed their greed, making them a problem that could grow into an unmanageable black hole.

 Chapter 58: Chapter 58: A Rash Move That Ruined Any Possibility Of Reconciliation

    As long as no one witnessed it, no evidce, no weapon, and no testimonies existed, it would be nearly impossible in this era for anyone to be convicted in court. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Once dressed, Julian walked outside with Graf. By the time they arrived, three defeated looking m were kneeling at the doorstep, their hands tied behind their backs, bound together with their feet.


    Hearing footsteps, the three m lifted their heads, their expressions filled with confusion. Before they had be captured, they had made some guesses about who could be behind the unauthorized introduction of new goods into the market without so much as a courtesy call.


    Perhaps it was a sinister old man with a hooked nose, someone who looked like he wanted to devour people with his gaze.


    Maybe it was a sharp looking middle aged man, dressed as a high society elite, like many big bosses who made their fortunes from illegal activities.


    Or maybe¡­


    But the last thing they expected was a boy. A boy who looked no older than sixte or sevte. How could someone like him dare to oppose the three major powers? Where did he ev get the bootleg liquor to sell? A flood of questions filled their minds, but as they glanced a, they couldn''t help but shiver.


    Suring them were about a doz young m, all a the same age as the boy in front of them, barely more than kids. Some still had patches of dark fuzz on their upper lips.


    "Who st you?" Julian casually tossed a cigarette to Dave, acknowledging his successful mission. The most important thing was that Dave had shown he could think, and that was valuable. Whether in gangs, businesses, or any faction, having someone who could think was crucial. Thinkers were the real talt, and all vtures needed talted people.


    Dave caught the cigarette with both hands, walked over to Julian''s side, struck a match against his pants, and with a quick flare of phosphorus, the match ignited. The sudd light briefly illuminated Julian''s face, casting a simple but sharp look.


    After a few puffs of smoke, Julian exhaled slowly.


    The three captives exchanged glances but remained silt. They didn''t believe these kids would actually harm them. Before the mission, their captain had told them their opponts were a bunch of grehorns, inexpericed and not particularly dangerous. After seeing this "boss" and his main crew, they were ev more convinced. These people didn''t seem dangerous at all.


    They probably hadn''t ev killed anyone. They might just make a few threats and th let them go.


    There was another reason for their silce¡ªthey were too scared to talk.


    Wood''s reputation as a ruthless butcher in Ternell City''s underworld was well known. Normally, he acted like a gtleman, offering polite couragemt wh things didn''t go as planned. But wh someone truly angered him, he would snap, becoming violt, bloody, and savage.


    Betrayal was one of the triggers that could sd him into a rage.


    ??¨N§¦???§Á.?¦¨?


    Julian wasn''t surprised by their silce.


    He didn''t have a reputation in this city. Unlike the established big shots, no one feared him yet. Slowly, Julian''s right hand moved toward the dagger tucked into his waistband. He was prepared to teach them what fear really meant, using blood and pain as lessons.


    But before he could act, Graf''s muscle-bound brain clicked into gear again¡ªjust as it had wh he killed the officer who had nearly discovered their bootleg operation. Back th, Julian had thought Graf seemed unusually sharp. Now, he seemed back to his normal self.


    Graf pulled the handgun he had tak from the unconscious officer out of his pocket. "Use this. It''s more interesting," he said.


    Firearms in the Empire were strictly regulated. During its conquest of other kingdoms and races, the Imperial authorities had gathered a great deal of restmt, so they didn''t want other groups gaining access to weapons. Hce, there were controls on firearms.


    Of course, as with many laws, these regulations had become a mere formality, but in a small place like Ternell City, guns were still relatively rare.


    Firstly, there was little need for them. There wer''t any major fortunes or valuable resources here worth fighting over with firearms. Secondly, after a brief period of chaos following the war, a new order had be established, and people gerally adhered to the rules, so guns wer''t necessary.


    Wh Graf produced the gun, the three kneeling m''s fates were sealed. Julian wasn''t going to let them live.


    The reason? Graf and the others had attacked two police officers and stol their service weapons.


    Once word got out that the officers had lost their guns, these three captives, who had se the handgun, would undoubtedly connect the dots. It wouldn''t take much for them to report this to the police chief, and once that happed, Julian and his crew would have no choice but to abandon everything and flee.


    Julian''s lips twitched. A second ago, he hadn''t intded to kill these m. All he wanted was to make money and rise to power, not to kill. He had hoped to join the game more peacefully, to become a player in the city''s underworld. To do that, someone would have had to spread the word. But now, that option was gone.


    Taking the gun from Graf, Julian quickly figured out how to use it based on Graf''s brief explanation. He flipped off the safety, pushed the crystal ergy chamber into the catalyst, and felt the gun''s grip heat up¡ªa sign it was charged and ready.


    Julian walked up to the first captive, using the gun to lift the man''s chin, pressing the barrel against his forehead. His voice was calm, almost like he was talking to a frid.


    "Tell me something I want to hear, and you''ll live. They''ll die."


    How much courage can one have wh facing death?


    It depds on the beliefs of the person staring death in the face. For those in some religious sects, death is not the d but a new beginning, perhaps ev the start of happiness. For them, death is not something to fear, as long as it comes in the right way. They would feel fulfillmt, not terror.

 Chapter 59: Chapter 59 Interrogations

    But what about a gang member?


    Without any faith to anchor the soul, death becomes an dless abyss of fear.


    The man felt the cold touch of metal against his forehead, and his expression shifted. At first, fear flickered across his face, but th he regained his composure.


    He didn''t believe this kid standing before him could actually pull the trigger. After all, he was one of Wood the Woodsman''s m. Wood''s reputation and influce in Ternell City wer''t something just anyone would dare to cross. So instead of fear, a trace of arrogance appeared on his face. "If you''ve got the guts, go ahead and¡ª"


    Julian''s finger squeezed the trigger. The bullet shot out of the barrel at 350 meters per second, smashing through the man''s skull. As it met resistance, the hollow point of the bullet expanded, the rear d peeling back under the intse pressure. As it tore through brain tissue, the metal edges of the bullet fully unfurled, spinning and ripping through the back of his head with ease.


    With a sicking thud, a fine mist of blood and brain matter sprayed into the air, splattering in red and fragmts. The man''s body jerked back as his head snapped backward, and th he collapsed forward, falling at Julian''s feet.


    A fist-sized hole had blown op the back of his head, and thick, warm blood still steamed in the cool night air. The other two m, who had initially maintained some semblance of calm, now looked horrified.


    This kid must be insane, right?


    We''re Wood''s m! Doesn''t he fear Wood''s retribution?¡ªwait, he doesn''t ev know who we are!


    The two remaining captives exchanged glances, their faces twisting in disbelief. They had overestimated their own importance. Not everyone needed to know who they were¡ªjust as not everyone in Ternell City knew who Julian was.


    Julian glanced down at the blood that had splattered on his sleep pants. He crouched down, wiped some off with his finger, and casually smeared it onto the dead man''s shoulder, muttering something to himself.


    He th moved on to the second captive, pressing the gun against the man''s forehead just as he had with the first. "See, he thought I wouldn''t shoot. I got so scared, my hand shook. Now, can you tell me who st you, why you were following my wagons, and what you were planning to do?" Julian raised a finger to his lips. "Shh... take your time.


    Think carefully before you answer. I wouldn''t want my hand to shake again."


    Cold sweat broke out on the man''s forehead, despite the chill of autumn. His body began to tremble. It was strange how people could only truly experice deep, complex emotions wh they witnessed death firsthand. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After a tse t seconds, Julian nodded. "So? Have you thought about it?"


    "I... I have. We''re Wood''s m..." the man stammered.


    §®??§¦????.?¦¨§®


    All eyes shifted to the third man, the last one remaining. The second captive, the one with the gun to his head, turned in disbelief toward his usually loyal comrade. Had he really just rushed to answer in a life-or-death situation?


    A second later, the gun fired, and the second man fell, his expression froz in shock and restmt. Julian had blown a hole in his head, just like the first. Julian figured that in the next life, if there was one, the man might learn to be a bit smarter.


    Of course, there was no restmt or bitterness left in the man''s body. As soon as the bullet passed through his skull, he no longer had the luxury to think or feel.


    After killing the second man, Julian tucked the gun away and turned to the third. "Congratulations, you''ve learned to answer quickly. Can I ask your name?"


    "Johnny!" The man quickly replied. "Sir, my name is Johnny, and I''m¡ª"


    Julian placed a finger on Johnny''s lips, looking at him seriously. "I ask, you answer."


    Johnny nodded rapidly, feeling like he was on the verge of madness. At that critical momt, he had the sudd urge to pee, but he didn''t dare mtion it. He couldn''t stop himself, though, and soon felt the hot wetness streaming down his leg, cooling in the autumn wind.


    "Question one: Who is Wood?"


    Swallowing hard, Johnny quickly answered, "Wood is our boss. They call him Wood the Woodsman. He controls all the bootlegging and smuggling operations in Ternell, along with two others. They''ve got a stranglehold on the tire high proof bootleg market in the city."


    "Very good. That was detailed, and I''m pleased. Here''s a reward¡ªI think you''ll appreciate it." Julian took out a cigarette, placed it in Johnny''s mouth, and lit it with a kerose lighter. "Now, for the second question: Who made these rules?"


    After a few drags on the cigarette, Johnny began to calm down. His mind cleared, and he quickly responded, "It was Ernst''s idea. He''s backed by the mayor and a few big shots. Wood and Carrell¡ªthat''s the other guy¡ªdon''t want to go against Ernst, so they agreed to the rules he set."


    "Third question: What were you planning to do tonight?" Julian''s hand lightly patted Johnny''s cheek, causing him to flinch. "I keep my promises, and look¡ªthere''s no one here but you. No one will know it was you who told."


    Moved by Julian''s reassurance, Johnny spilled everything.


    Wood had ordered them to track Graf, find out where his base of operations was, and assess how many people were there. Once they had that information, they planned to return in the middle of the night to kill off anyone unimportant and capture Graf, along with the person sleeping in the same room as the money.


    Wood believed that whoever was with the money¡ªwhether it was Graf''s boss or someone else¡ªwould have valuable information. With nearly t thousand dollars at stake, no one would trust such a sum to Graf alone.


    Once they found the higher ups, everything would fall into place. Whether Wood dealt with them personally or hired someone else to, it wouldn''t be a big deal for the three bootlegging bosses.

 Chapter 60: Chapter 60 Wood The Axeman

    After extracting all the information he needed, Julian pulled out the gun and shot Johnny, ding his life.


    As if explaining his decision, Julian muttered, "I didn''t allow you to answer out of turn." S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He casually tossed the gun to Dave, trusting that he would handle it better than Graf, who had just ruined his plans momts ago. Julian th took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the blood from his fingers, and pointed at the three corpses on the g. "Strip them. Burn the clothes. Bury them with the two cops in the back lot."


    "Get some rest tonight, after that we will have a lot of work to do." With that, Julian shook the dust from his coat and returned to the house, shaking his head as he walked.


    Things escalated quickly and beyond anyone''s expectations the momt Graf drew the gun. The fate of Wood''s subordinates was a foregone conclusion after that. Neither Julian nor Wood had any room left to negotiate.


    Unlike disputes in business or politics, gang conflicts wer''t easily resolved. Business disagreemts were just about dividing profits, and a compromise could be reached. Political conflicts were about power and influce, and a few concessions here or there could settle matters.


    But wh it came to gangs and factions, the law of the jungle ruled.


    Every gang had its territory, just like a lion. Newcomers like Julian were akin to hyas.


    Lions didn''t fear hyas. Wh a lion roared, hyas typically backed down, knowing they couldn''t win. But if a lion didn''t respond to provocation, other hyas would gather, ssing weakness. They would pounce, knowing that the lion was either old or injured. They would tear the lion to pieces.


    It was the same in the underworld.


    Tonight, Wood had lost three m. If he didn''t respond, if he remained silt, others would come to test him, ev if Julian did nothing. They''d see if Wood had truly gone soft. And once they confirmed that he had, the powerful elites of Ternell City would pounce, tearing Wood apart and swallowing his empire whole.


    There was no turning back now.


    Wood had to prove that he was still the king, capable of crushing anyone who dared to challge him.


    And Julian had to face Wood head-on to sure his survival. Otherwise, not only would Wood come after him, but others smelling blood would, too. They would sacrifice Julian to please the still dominant lion.


    There would be no peace until one side was dead.


    ...


    This was the first time Wood had allowed himself to fall into such a disheveled state after his success.


    ??¨N¦®?¦Ñ??.?§°?


    He violtly smashed a vase onto the g. In his fury, all semblance of gtlemanly demeanor had vanished. His meticulously groomed hair now hung loosely, as though he had just weathered a storm. Hot breath escaped from his slightly parted lips as he panted, retreating a few steps before sitting down on a chair in the storeroom.


    One of the buttons on his elegant waistcoat had popped off, and the collar of his expsive shirt was torn op, revealing a patch of black chest hair. He looked like a wounded beast hiding in the corner.


    He had be threated and wanted to fight back. But wh he suggested to Ernst and Carrell that they should band together to crush those who refused to play by the rules, Ernst remained unexpectedly silt, and so did Carrell. After fighting alongside them for over a decade, how could Wood not guess what they were thinking?


    They were like everyone else outside, waiting for him to show signs of exhaustion, to reveal a momt of weakness, so they could tear him to pieces.


    The three of them had divided the city''s illegal liquor market, but why would two, or ev one, be contt to share wh they could have it all? Wood had known for years that the so called "Three Kings" would inevitably clash one day. The only thing that had kept them at peace was not some lofty rule, but the absce of an opportunity to ignite the conflict.


    Now, that opportunity had arrived.


    If he failed to handle this properly and let everyone know that "Wood the Axeman" was still the same ruthless man who would chop people to pieces with an axe, those people would turn into savages and rip him apart.


    Thinking was easy, but acting was much harder. Just wh Wood was determined to prove that he was far from being "over the hill," he suddly realized he knew nothing about his opponts.


    He had no idea how many people they had.


    He only knew one of their key members, a brute named Graf.


    He didn''t know what their currt plans were.


    In short, he knew almost nothing about his emies. Worse yet, he had no idea where to start!


    His many years as a "gtleman" had nearly made him forget that he was once a thug, a "woodcutter" with blood on his hands. He had decorated his image with the trappings of high society, so much so that ev he had nearly become a monk in a cathedral. Now, being thrust back into the cutthroat, life and death struggles of the past made him feel out of place, with a heart racing with unease.


    His trembling hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette case. He lit one, and as the smoke swirled a him, his once uncertain gaze became sharp. He threw the remaining cigarette butt to the g and rolled up his sleeves, retrieving the lumber axe that had be hanging behind the storeroom door and gripping it in his hand.


    Wh he pushed op the door, many people were waiting outside. These were his subordinates, including family, frids, and the assistants who had stood by him through hell and back.


    His gaze was firm, just as it had be many years ago. After a whole night of contemplation, he had finally come to a conclusion: power in this world is everything. All the high society luxuries and superficial actions are nothing but extra decoration. He had once forsak his true nature for the sake of pleasing others and seeking validation, but things had changed now.


    He had finally rediscovered his true self, he is ''Wood The Axeman''.

 Chapter 61: Chapter 61 The War Cry

    Many of the older m were visibly excited, especially wh they saw the lumber axe in Wood''s hand. Their blood seemed to boil in that momt. Whether seated or lying down, everyone stood up and gathered a him. They said nothing, simply suring Wood in silce, looking at him with eyes full of trust and admiration.


    In that momt, Wood felt something he had almost forgott during his "gtlemanly life"¡ªa feeling of pure power!


    "Boss, what do we do now?" asked Jim, a short, stocky man wearing a brown waistcoat. His belly looked as if it were stuffed with a bag of flour, and a greasy she of sweat covered his bald head. Jim was once one of Wood''s most relied-upon subordinates and was known in the city of Ternell as "The Meat Grinder."


    Jim now ran a pet store, dealing primarily in pet food and fierce dogs.


    His pet shop was one of the places Wood''s crew had used for disposing of bodies. They would quietly kill their emies and sd the bodies to Jim''s shop. Jim would take the knives his father had giv him, with the hope that he would become a skilled chef, and carve the bodies into tiny pieces.


    After adding a few ingredits and dehydrating them, he turned them into thumb-sized chunks of meat, which he mixed into other pet food and sold to the pets of Ternell City.


    His business had once thrived, but as Wood''s status rose, his pet store had fall into near bankruptcy, with few customers.


    Wood''s gaze swept over each of the m''s faces, finally resting on Jim. "First, find out how many of them there are, who they are, their names, and what social connections they have. Find their hideouts, and th give them a big surprise."


    Jim''s wife was from the Guar people, and he could use her connections to investigate them more thoroughly and accurately.


    "Robin, go retrieve our things from the western suburbs. We need them now!"


    Robin, a tall, skinny man in his forties with a sallow complexion, grinned widely, showing his teeth. He raised his hand in a salute, one used by soldiers of the Star Empire. "Yes, boss. By tomorrow, you''ll see those beauties!"


    "Jiji, take two people with you tomorrow and withdraw 0,000 dollars for me¡ªin five-dollar dominations!"


    Jiji was a short, muscular man with sharp features and broad shoulders. He had once be an athlete before the war and other evts led to the disbanding of the sports clubs in Ternell City. Left without a livelihood, he turned to underg fighting. Before being recruited by Wood, Jiji had already killed three m in the ring and was known as "Claw Jiji."


    He had be Wood''s bodyguard for a long time, sharing meals and ev staying in the same house.


    As Wood assigned tasks, the once-feared figures of Ternell City felt a surge of untamed power coursing through them. Perhaps, thanks to this matter, their time would come again.


    Having arranged everything, Wood was brimming with confidce.


    He had money, ough to tempt many gangs to his side.


    ?????¦Ñ??.??§®


    He had connections, wide ranging, ev to the point of being on brotherly terms with the police chief.


    How could he possibly lose?


    ...


    "He''s definitely going to lose!" At the same time, in a farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, Julian declared this in front of many people.


    Both Graf and Dave were surprised, though they had maintained their composure since last night. After all, their oppont was other than the infamous "Wood the Axeman," a name these young m had grown up hearing about. There was an instinctive, subconscious fear of such a legdary figure.


    Julian knew this, and he needed to lift their spirits, to make them understand that they wer''t facing some terrifying beast, but simply another human being like them.


    "I''m not saying this for no reason," Julian said, standing confidtly before the group, as if their oppont were just a petty thug. "First, he''s in the light, and we''re hiding in the shadows."


    The youths wided their eyes, staring at Julian. They needed something to convince them, and they also craved victory. They all knew that if they lost, some of them might die, and the rest would have to leave Ternell City, wandering aimlessly, possibly never returning.


    Never underestimate the memory of these ''previously gang bosses.''¡ªif they hate something, they will remember it for a lifetime."


    But if they won, they would change the tire situation in Ternell City. They would become "respectable people" in the eyes of others, and their words would carry weight within their families. They would also change their family''s circumstances, improve the living conditions, let their siblings wear new clothes, and ev sd them to school. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Most importantly, they would change their own destinies.


    Win or lose, this was a battle where everything was at stake. So, they needed to hear something that would uplift them, make them go all out before the war broke out¡ªnot just sit somewhere, waiting for death.


    Looking at the eager eyes before him, Julian smiled easily. In a relaxed tone, he said, "Look, we all know his name is Wood, and we also know his nickname is ''Wood The Axeman.'' We also know the name of his previouse Gang ''The Woodsm'', We know he lives at 93 Wheat Fragrance Gards, and we know his office is on the third floor of 93 Coastal Avue.


    We know he has many underlings, like Robin and Jiji, and we''ve found out almost all his details.


    "But," Julian''s tone shifted, becoming slightly more intse, "what does he know about us? He doesn''t know I''m called Julian, he doesn''t know that this beast like guy is called Graf, nor does he know that this pretty boy, who looks better than any girl, is called Dave.


    "So, how can he defeat us? Is he going to shoot into the air?"


    This remark made many of the youths laugh. "Shoot" could mean a bullet, or something else tirely¡ªit was an unhealthy double tdre, but it worked well with this group of thugs teage boys.

 Chapter 62: Chapter 62 Kidnapping

    Julian laughed along with them. "Secondly, he''s a famous big shot in high society. He has dless amounts of money, and countless people willing to help him, ev risking their lives for him. Hearing all this, are you feeling a bit scared? But not all those people are truly his; those willing to risk their lives for him may not be so eager if they don''t get ough in return."


    "So what else does he have besides money?"


    "This society teaches us that if a man only has money but doesn''t have the strgth to protect it himself, and can only rely on others'' strgth, he will certainly lose, and he''ll lose miserably."


    "And here''s the third point!"


    Julian''s eyes gleamed as he looked at every young face. "He''s too wealthy, possessing everything people desire, while we have nothing! Precisely because we have nothing, what should we be afraid of? Ev if we lose, we either lose our worthless lives, or we leave this place that has nothing for us."


    "But he''s differt. He has too much, too many concerns. Each time he makes a choice, he has to think carefully about how it will affect the things he has.


    "I could walk right up to his villa at 93 Wheat Fragrance Gards with a gun and pull the trigger, but would he dare do the same? No. He''d think it over, hesitate, and th pay someone to come find us. And ev th, he''d have to watch out for others and for the people he hires¡ªwho might not ev be willing to risk their lives! S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "We can afford to lose, once, twice, ev more. We can afford to lose. But he cannot. If he loses just once, he will retreat into self preservation and lose everything.


    "So, as I stand here, I''m telling every one of you: we will win!"


    After the meeting, Dave pulled Julian aside, shielding him from the others as he whispered, "I heard that Wood has quite a few guns, at least several." His face showed a trace of worry. Guns held an overwhelming threat in gang wars, far beyond what numbers alone could resolve.


    If the other side had just three or five shooters willing to fire, they could easily crush the morale and fighting spirit Julian had built up today.


    Julian had actually considered this problem last night. He patted Dave on the shoulder, appreciating his sharp mind. It was rare, and extremely important, for someone to still be thinking in these critical momts. Julian glanced at the boys standing nearby and smiled, "I''ve thought it over already. We may not have guns, but we have bows!"


    In the Star Empire, except for some developed cities, the land was mostly rural. In such undisturbed natural vironmts, wildlife oft became a serious problem. While some had proposed granting firearms to farmers and ranchers in the countryside, this idea was ultimately rejected. Instead, they distributed bows and arrows to replace guns.


    This was done to prevt conquered people from obtaining ough firearms and ammunition to pottially start an uprising. Some extreme organizations among the conquered had armed themselves, but no one had se any uprisings or significant action.


    At the core, people only pursued two things: power and wealth.


    ???¦®??¦´?.?§°§®


    Of course, of this had much to do with Julian at the momt. The widespread use of bows instead of guns meant that many farmers in rural areas had developed dect archery skills. Almost every household could shoot. In the cities, there were ev archery clubs, although these were not op to ordinary farmers.


    To the elites, the farmers didn''t practice archery¡ªthey practiced hunting, an unsophisticated use of the bow.


    Only they, using expsive, elaborate bows and shooting costly arrows, could call it archery.


    In actual combat, bows were far more useful than handguns. A handgun''s range was only about twty meters, while a bow''s effective range exceeded fifty meters, with skilled hunters able to shoot targets from as far as eighty meters.


    In direct combat, using bows would be far more effective than using handguns¡ªand ev more surprising.


    Seeing that Julian had already considered the matter, Dave said no more. His strgth lay in his bravery and ruthlessness, along with a certain level of intellect. But compared to Julian, he felt he was still a bit lacking. Plus, he was just a team leader, so he trusted that Julian could handle everything.


    The bar continued to supply alcohol, but more people were now assigned to escort the goods. For several days, nothing happed, which left some in Ternell City who were aware of the situation feeling puzzled.


    Shouldn''t a fight have brok out by now? Why was there still no movemt from either side?


    What they didn''t know was that the two sides hadn''t ev se each other yet, so how could they talk about fighting?


    This tse, oppressive atmosphere was finally brok on the ninth day.


    Graf stormed into Julian''s office like a wounded bull. Julian, sitting calmly in his chair, looked at him without the slightest hint of emotion.


    Graf felt utterly uncomfortable. He instinctively waved his arms, paced back and forth a few steps, th punched the newly rovated wall of the office. The wood panel shattered, costing him five dollars with that one punch. New wall panels, new wallpaper, and the labor to fix it¡ªall together, it would cost a fortune for just that one spot.


    "If you need to burn off some excess ergy, I suggest you head up to the third floor. I''ve hung several punching bags there, made of cowhide. If you manage to break one, I might be impressed."


    After breaking the wall, Graf''s frustration eased a bit. He slumped into a chair, which creaked under his weight. His hands cradled his head as he looked completely helpless. "My mother and my brother have be tak."


    Julian knew that Graf had a mother, but it was the first time he learned he had a brother. A few years back, Graf had hidd in the wilderness to avoid being forcibly conscripted. He had mtioned this before, but he had never talked about having a brother. This left Julian feeling slightly displeased, though he hid it well. "Who took them, Wood?"

 Chapter 63: Chapter 63 The Second Trial In The Morris Case

    "Who else but that bastard?" Graf roared. He had only learned about it from a neighbor wh he wt back to deliver some money. He felt like he was going crazy!


    They were his only family, especially his brother, who had be by his side for years. All the money Graf had made over the years, aside from what he kept for himself, he''d st to his brother for school. He had never told anyone about his brother, because his brother was a "good kid," a top studt who was currtly studying at the capital''s university.


    Rectly, Graf had st him so much money that his brother wt from surprised to scared, afraid that Graf had done something illegal. His brother had secretly tak leave and returned to Ternell.


    Unfortunately, Wood''s m had found him, and along with Graf''s mother, they had be tak.


    "Do you trust me?" Julian asked, maintaining his composure in his comfortable boss chair despite Graf''s emotional outburst. He played with a bronze lighter, his calm and confidt expression meeting Graf''s gaze fearlessly. "Do you trust me?"


    He repeated the question. Graf, like a wounded beast, had redded eyes, his chest heaving violtly as intse emotions made it hard for him to breathe. He locked eyes with Julian, and after a momt, Graf nodded vigorously. "If I don''t trust you, th who the hell can I trust?"


    Julian nodded in return, leaning back into the veloping chair. Despite the world''s technological backwardness compared to the one Julian had dreamed of, it excelled in indulgce and luxury, especially for those born into nobility. These elites had unparalleled power, status, and wealth, and beyond seeking more power, they wasted their excessive lives on extravagant pleasures and tertainmt.


    Over the past few days, Julian had Dave gather information on Wood, and by now, they had learned almost everything. Wood''s move at this momt suggested that he had also dug into Julian and his group.


    In this world, there was no such thing as an impetrable wall. Once they had targeted Graf as the breakthrough point, money would pave the way. Some people, like the workers at the station, would always be willing to reveal a little something for the right price.


    Not everyone could resist the lure of money over fridship, and there were always some who would sell information that wasn''t particularly useful to them or their families.


    Just as Julian used money to pave his way, though perhaps he had less of it than Wood, and couldn''t throw a large sums to get all the information he wanted, this wasn''t a one sided market. For those who possessed information about Wood, Julian was the only buyer in this market. He didn''t need to spd much to get what he wanted.


    Graf kept his eyes fixed on Julian, unblinking, waiting to see how he would resolve this problem.


    "I understand how you''re feeling right now. I love my family too, but love and impulse won''t solve anything. They kidnapped your family to put you¡ªand us¡ªin a vulnerable position. Whether we try to rescue them or compromise, we''d fall into their trap." ???§¦????.???


    "So, do we just abandon my mother and brother?" Graf asked through gritted teeth. His fierce gaze showed no attempt to hide his inner turmoil, and his tone made it clear that if Julian said they wer''t going to save them, Graf would leave in a fit of hatred.


    Julian chuckled. "Of course we''re going to save them, but there are many ways to do that. Charging in and getting yourself shot is one way. Killing ough of them to force them to sd your family back is another."


    Julian wasn''t afraid that this muscle bound guy would recklessly charge in and get himself killed, but such a move would put him in a vulnerable position.


    To Julian, the situation was simple. Wood''s large, prosperous estate couldn''t withstand too much chaos. He made such a grand display, not only to intimidate Julian and his group but also to show others that Wood still had strgth. But his vast holdings were also his greatest weakness. Once Julian found a way in, the bigger the estate, the harder it would fall.


    The next morning, Julian appeared in Courtroom Three at the city courthouse. This was the second trial in the "Morris Case." Julian hadn''t attded the first one, and Kevin hadn''t wanted him to, as the first trial mostly involved the prosecutor''s witnesses and evidce, and Kevin had chos to appear weak.


    This was a strategy¡ªlet the oppont throw punches, dodge them, th strike back. Wh Camille prested his evidce and lobbied the jury, it was already clear that he had lost to Kevin because he wasn''t aware that Kevin had be involved in the case from the very beginning, ev planning it.


    At exactly 9:5, Kevin appeared outside the courthouse, wearing a sharp suit and carrying his briefcase. Reporters immediately sured him, camera flashes going off and smoke rising from the constant flash bulbs.


    Kevin wore a confidt smile. Unlike the previous trial, he didn''t rush into the courthouse. Instead, he stood outside under the grand scales of justice, facing the reporters.


    "Kevin, some people say that wh you go up against the prosecutor for that girl Nasha, your ''gold reputation'' will be shattered. What do you think about that?"


    "I''m a reporter from Starlight Daily. The whole of Canlos is watching this case. While people are angry about what happed to the girl, they''re also focused on you. Do you believe you can win justice for her?"


    "Some say you took on this case against Camille because of a grudge from your younger days. Is that true?"


    Kevin smiled and nodded as the questions came. Wh he heard something he didn''t like, he raised his hand, and the noisy reporters immediately fell silt. He cleared his throat, and an unparalleled confidce appeared on his face, as bright as the sun. His tone was slightly elevated. "First, I want to thank the public for their concern about this case. Secondly, I''ve never believed I would lose." S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 64: Chapter 64 The Testing Stage Is Over, The War Has Begun.

    The reporters murmured at this bold statemt. Based on the evidce Camille had submitted, there were several unsolvable doubts in the Morris case. Many legal experts had expressed their opinions to the press, saying Kevin was likely to break his record of "no losses" with this case, adding a less than impressive mark to his career.


    Some anonymous sources had ev suggested that Kevin took this case because of an old rivalry with Camille. Both m had attded the same high school and were ev classmates. Initially, their relationship had be good, but after a falling out over a girl, they became bitter emies. At one point, Camille had ev hit Kevin.


    The mity had persisted, and ev though both had gone on to graduate from the prestigious Aurea University Law School, they returned to their hometown of Ternell City. It seemed impossible that nothing had happed betwe them.


    One reporter couldn''t resist asking, "Kevin, are you really that confidt?"


    Kevin pointed to the reporter. "Good question. It''s not just my confidce that guarantees victory, but I firmly believe that reason, law, and justice always stand on the side of what is right. We will defeat evil!" With that, he nodded politely. "I''m sorry, but the trial is about to start. If you have more questions, save them for the day the verdict is announced."


    The reporters were satisfied, especially with Kevin''s final words. They echoed those of the Emperor himself wh he couraged soldiers during the most difficult days of the war.


    "We will defeat evil!"


    It was a clever statemt, aligning with modern societal values. The case had garnered national atttion, and people sympathized deeply with Nasha, hoping her lawyer would win the case.


    As the courthouse doors closed tightly, the crowd outside didn''t dwindle. In fact, it grew larger as time passed. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Meanwhile, Jim struggled to squeeze out of his carriage, letting his massive belly drop down as he freed himself. Why were carriage doors so narrow? He''d once considered widing the doors but decided against it. If his carriage doors were wider than standard, wouldn''t that oply declare that a man too large to fit through a normal door was inside?


    Wiping sweat from his forehead, Jim, like many overweight people, sweated profusely with the slightest movemt. He licked his lips as he headed toward a nearby barbecue restaurant.


    This place was called "Daily Delight BBQ," and it was well known in Ternell City. Its specialty was beef ribs with meat still attached, and not the cut kind. Each rib was half a meter long, with at least two pounds of meat on it, marinated in a secret sauce and grilled to crispy perfection. The thought of it made mouths water.


    It was Jim''s favorite food. He came here almost every three days, eating two ribs each time and washing them down with some fruit wine.


    §®¡Ì?¦¥????.?¦¨?


    "Wh eating such greasy food, that tart fruit wine really proves its worth!" Jim said to his subordinate as he sat on a double bch at an outdoor table. "The sour and tart flavor keeps my stomach from feeling too greasy. Oh heavs, I''m drooling already!"


    "Look, my food is here!" Jim''s mouth watered as he watched a waiter approach with two half meter long ribs hanging from hooks, their gold brown surface dripping with hot beef fat. "I can''t wait any longer. Damn it, can''t you walk faster?"


    The waiter, who looked no older than 7 or 8, still had a childish look about him, with a faint line of black fuzz on his upper lip. He carefully carried the two ribs over, with one hand still supporting them. Wh he placed the beef ribs onto Jim''s plate, they were positioned straight in front of him, which made Jim quite unhappy, as he couldn''t see more of the meat.


    So, he raised his short, thick hand and waved. "Are you new here? Turn them a, and lay them across in front of me!"


    The young waiter, his face showing shy embarrassmt, immediately moved from in front of Jim to his side. The bodyguard standing nearby stepped aside, knowing that the best thing he could do at this momt was to let Jim joy his meal undisturbed.


    Everyone has their own temper, and Jim was usually very easy to talk to. There was no trace of the ferocity that had earned him the cruel nickname "Meat Chopper." You could ev joke with him a bit harshly, and ev if he was the one being made fun of, he would laugh and throw out a few curses without ever getting angry.


    But the one thing you couldn''t do was disturb him while he was eating.


    Wood once said that Jim was like a dog guarding its food¡ªif you disturbed him during a meal, he would show his fangs. Ev Wood wouldn''t bother Jim too much while he was eating, as he knew it would ruin Jim''s appetite.


    The bodyguard stepped aside, and the young waiter walked to Jim''s side, laying the ribs across in front of him. Jim''s smile bloomed like a summer flower, and he ev laughed out loud. He didn''t bother with utsils or trying to eat in a "civilized" manner.


    He wasn''t a refined person wh it came to food, so he grabbed the ribs by the bones, which had slightly shrunk due to the heat, and took a huge bite.


    His teeth crunched into the crispy surface of the beef. The meat was seasoned with chopped fruit peppers and spices, and the flavors of butter and beef exploded on his taste buds. He tilted his head back in satisfaction, savoring every change in taste. It was absolutely delicious!


    At that momt, a young man who had be standing unnoticed behind Jim''s bodyguard suddly whipped off his scarf, jumped up, and wrapped it a the bodyguard''s neck, tighting it while pressing his knee into the man''s back. As the bodyguard struggled, the young waiter took his chance.


    He swiftly plunged the hook used for the ribs into Jim''s chin, with the smaller hook catching onto the back of the chair.

 Chapter 65: Chapter 65 Relentless Assassinations

    Jim immediately started struggling, but the steel hook, strong ough to hold up hundreds of pounds of meat, had pierced through his jaw, with the other d fasted to the chair. He couldn''t ev op his mouth, let alone speak. His tongue was also pierced, leaving him unable to do anything but let out muffled whimpers and thrash his arms wildly.


    It was at this momt that Jim realized the importance of losing weight.


    The young waiter turned a, now standing behind Jim. Ignoring Jim''s furious, wide eyed glare, he grabbed the unused knife from the table and stabbed it into Jim''s neck. Blood gushed out instantly, steaming as it splattered onto the plate, mixing with the flavors of the barbecued ribs.


    He stabbed Jim several times, the last one piercing his chest. After the vital blows, Jim''s struggles surged momtarily before finally weaking. The attacker pulled out the knife, turned, and stabbed Jim''s bodyguard in the chest twice. Th he and the other boy quickly fled. Only th did the nearby patrons, froz in shock, begin to scream.


    The tire attack, from start to finish, had tak no more than t seconds¡ªso fast that many people didn''t ev realize what had happed before the two assailants had already run away.


    The owner, who had be in the back showing his son how to grill ribs, rushed out in an apron. Wh he saw Jim''s lifeless hands hanging at his sides, his vision darked, and his legs gave out beath him.


    It was over. Jim was dead, and Wood would certainly seek revge! sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The owner had lived through those times and knew that these people wer''t nearly as glamorous as they seemed. Thinking about the consequces he might face, he felt as though his soul had left his body.


    On another street, a group of people were gathered. These were the spies Wood had hired to collect information on Julian. However, all they had managed to gather so far was Julian''s name, appearance, and age. Ev though this information had be repeated over and over, Wood didn''t mind. He had Jiji distribute the paymt as promised.


    Since Wood had begun his efforts to become a gtleman and ter high society, he had lost many things. Now, he regretted it, so he needed to spd ev more money to buy back what he had giv up.


    After this incidt, he no longer wanted to be a gtleman. Perhaps he was better suited to being a thug, a villain, rather than a beast in gtleman''s clothing.


    "Mine¡­" A skinny man reached out to take his share of the money from Jiji, but Jiji pulled his hand back, causing the man to yelp in surprise.


    These street wanderers were cheap¡ªfive dollars was all it took to buy information from them. Wood had raised the price, offering t dollars for each piece of information, ev if it was junk, which had driv the homeless and street drifters into a frzy. Seeing the stack of at least fifty dollars in Jiji''s hand, the skinny man''s facial muscles twitched, and a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes.


    But Jiji wasn''t afraid of these people. Ev if they ganged up on him, of them would dare touch him. Everyone knew Jiji was Wood''s bodyguard, and challging Jiji meant challging Wood.


    Ignoring the man''s threating glare, Jiji said, "If you want money, fine, but if you give me garbage information like this again, don''t expect to get a ct next time. Got it?"


    The skinny man hesitated for a momt before the fiercess left his face, replaced with a flattering grin. "Got it, got it. Next time, I''ll give you real information, or I won''t take any money!"


    ????§®???.?§°?


    Satisfied, Jiji handed him the money. The man quickly snatched it and walked out of the crowd, counting it twice before shoving it into his pocket with a grin.


    As the crowd dispersed, the people were now ev more motivated to gather information for money. Just as Jiji was about to leave, a young man in a trch coat and peaked cap approached. Jiji took a second look because the young man was very handsome, with a bright, sunny demeanor.


    No matter the era or cultural backg, face culture had always be mainstream¡ªwhether overt or covert, it never changed.


    The handsome young man approached with a smile so warm that it made people feel at ease. Jiji had be about to leave but stopped because of the young man''s smile.


    The young man came up to him, smiling and nodding. "Are you Mr. Jiji?"


    Jiji, normally a man of few words, surprisingly responded. "Yes, I''m Jiji. What do you want?"


    The young man nodded vigorously. "Mr. Julian asked me to say hello to you!"


    In the next second, the sight of the pistol emerging from the young man''s pocket reflected in Jiji''s terrified eyes. He tried to turn and flee, but no matter how fast he moved, he couldn''t outrun a bullet.


    A violt burst of air, tinged with mist, erupted from the pistol''s barrel. Jiji could ev see the bullet spinning through the air.


    With a sicking thud, a cloud of blood exploded next to Jiji''s head, and his short, stocky body collapsed. The young man calmly approached and fired several more shots into Jiji''s head until it was completely shattered. Th he pocketed the gun and swiftly left.


    Jiji''s lifeless body twitched on the g. The homeless and street drifters who had retreated earlier rushed back, crawling over his body to search his pockets for money.


    As for what had just happed or what would happ next?


    Who cared?!


    A series of reltless assassinations instantly pushed Wood into an extremely passive situation. Julian struck him so hard that he saw stars. If it wer''t for Robin suddly remembering that he had left his key at home and getting off that damn carriage, he might have already be reduced to a pile of ash!


    From the momt Wood decided to have Graf''s mother and brother captured, he had considered Julian''s retaliation, but he never imagined that a young man he had never heard of, along with a group of youths, could act so ruthlessly and decisively! In just one day, apart from Jim and Jiji, three more captains fell to assassinations. The spread of rumors was far faster than anyone could have anticipated.


    In less than an hour, certain people in the tire city of Ternell already knew that Wood was in a very dire situation!

 Chapter 66: Chapter 66 Second Trial

    Ev more troubling was another incidt: Jim''s wife was skinned and hung outside the op balcony on the third floor of Jim''s house. According to Guar tradition, the harshest punishmt for a traitor is skinning the person alive and crucifying them.


    Everyone who knew the inside story was shocked by the ruthlessness of that young man. At the same time, a strange emotion began to spread, as if this Guar youth was differt from the others.


    Julian''s name began to spread wildly within the Guar community and ev started to reach the outskirts of Ternell City. Some ev began to say that he was the inheritor of the will of the Guar Kingdom, seeing him as the future hope of the Guar people!


    A series of brutal tactics finally jolted Wood awake from his perfect plan. Especially wh he personally saw an unsigned velope placed on his office desk, he was so frighted that he broke out in cold sweat, his body trembling uncontrollably.


    "Damn it, investigate! Investigate every single one of them! Who the hell brought this damn velope in here and placed it on my desk?" Wood, raging with anger, tried to mask the fear in his heart. The fact that Julian''s people were able to put this velope, containing a bullet, on his desk today¡ªdid it mean that tomorrow morning, instead of his wife''s good morning kiss, a bullet might greet him?


    All the Guars in Wood''s home and company were dismissed. Ev suspected Guars were illegally detained and beat, but the truth did not come to light. Wood knew that if he couldn''t strike back as hard as he was struck and do it fast, he would likely become a laughingstock¡ªor worse, a stepping stone.


    Meanwhile, Julian showed no trace of satisfaction or joy. He sat calmly in Courtroom No. 3, observing the "duel" betwe Kevin and Camille. From the beginning, Kevin had laid a trap, needing Camille to believe that this was a premeditated murder, and that the "victim" Nasha was one of the masterminds.


    For this reason, he left ough doubts for Camille to uncover, expose, and seek explanations for, leading him step by step into the trap.


    During the trial, Kevin prested a new viewpoint that no one had previously considered: that the killer might not have known Nasha at all. In Camille''s perspective, the case involved two sides: one was Morris, and the other was Nasha and an unknown figure. This was the only way to explain the suspicious details and evidce at the sce.


    However, after Kevin introduced the "three-party theory" and corroborated Camille''s guesses on some key evidce, he constructed a more plausible scario that fit the facts at the sce. He not only convinced the spectators but also the jury.


    In the d, he provided ough evidce¡ªa blood stained adult male''s clothing and two testimonies from hotel staff. Ev the judge believed that Kevin''s argumt was plausible.


    "My view is that from start to finish, my clit, Miss Nasha, was the first victim. First, we must acknowledge that Miss Nasha is a believer who would not have violated her religious principles by gaging in premarital sexual activity."


    Kevin handed out his prepared materials to the jury, the judge, and Camille.


    ?¡Ì¨N¦¥?¦Ñ??.??§®


    "After the incidt, the coroner performed an autopsy on Mr. Morris. According to the findings, it''s clear that Mr. Morris had not gaged in any form of sexual activity before his death. Based on this, my argumt is that after Mr. Morris brought the unconscious Miss Nasha into the room, someone tered while he was taking a shower, taking advantage of the sound of water to mask their movemts."


    "Wh Mr. Morris came out of the bathroom and prepared to get dressed and leave¡­ if you believe that." As Kevin said this, the somber courtroom erupted in laughter, and ev the judge''s lips twitched slightly.


    Ternell was not a bustling metropolis; it didn''t have an dless population of permant residts. It was a small city, so small that if something happed on one side, people on the other side would soon hear about it. "Leather Pants" Morris was no unknown figure. Most people knew of his misdeeds, so Kevin''s small joke made many people smile knowingly.


    Ha! Morris would let a girl he''d stripped lie on the bed, take a shower, and th leave?


    Come on, that''s impossible.


    Camille stood up with a dark expression. "Your Honor, I object! The defse counsel''s mockery of the main victim, Mr. Morris, is defamatory!"


    The judge tighted his expression and knocked the gavel. He looked toward Kevin, though there was a hint of amusemt in his eyes. "Objection sustained. Please show respect to the deceased, defse counsel."


    Kevin offered an apologetic look. "Alright, I apologize for my previous commt."


    "The third party who tered the room indeed countered Mr. Morris as he was about to leave. During their altercation, Mr. Morris was killed. To cover up the truth, this mysterious person forced himself on the unconscious Miss Nasha and fabricated the sce, making it appear as though Miss Nasha, during her resistance, accidtally killed Mr. Morris while being assaulted.


    "According to testimony from the hotel doorman, a young man was se leaving in a hurry during the time of the incidt. The same young man bumped into a hotel staff member as he left. This supports the notion that an unknown third party was prest at the sce. This person not only brutally murdered Mr. Morris but also assaulted the unconscious Miss Nasha. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "And this third party is the true culprit in this case!"


    Camille couldn''t help but stand again. "Your Honor, I object! The defse counsel''s narrative of the crime is purely speculative. Without sufficit evidce, his argumt is mere conjecture and should not guide the outcome of this case!"


    The judge thought for a momt, th shook his head. "The defse counsel''s argumt aligns with the conditions at the crime sce, and he has provided critical evidce and testimony. Objection overruled."

 Chapter 67: Chapter 67 A Game Of Sympathy And Scorn

    Camille glared at Kevin, as if he wanted to tear him to pieces. Previously, he had boasted in the media that Nasha was one of the masterminds behind the case and vowed to pin the blame on her. But Kevin had suddly turned everything a, and now the case was heading in the exact opposite direction from what Camille had hoped.


    The worst part was that the bold claims he had made had already be published and attracted atttion.


    Ev though the outcome of this case wouldn''t harm him directly, those powerful figures who could decide his future might not appreciate a young man who acted so recklessly.


    Thankfully, this was only the second of three trials¡ªthere was still one more. He still had a chance!


    After the second trial ded, Kevin smiled and extded his hand to Camille. He felt confidt, holding onto key evidce and witnesses. Regardless of whether Camille could find new evidce and witnesses to support his "mutual murder case" argumt, he would not be Kevin''s match. After all, no evidce or witness could ever carry more authority than the killer himself.


    Since victory was certain, why not display the cultured demeanor of an educated man?


    Only the victor deserves a victor''s smile!


    Faced with Kevin''s provocative gesture, Camille''s face tighted, and his eyes flashed with anger. After a momt, he turned away and resumed his work, packing up the materials on the table. Finally, he gathered them up with force, slamming them onto the table with a loud bang.


    Many of the spectators and jury members who had already left halfway turned a, curious. In their eyes, they saw Kevin, courteous and polite, ev extding a fridly hand to his "oppont." Meanwhile, Camille, the district attorney, appeared rude, ignoring Kevin''s goodwill and instead creating a loud noise to express his dissatisfaction and hostility.


    People oft like to side with the underdog challging the powerful. Kevin, represting the poor girl, Natasha, undoubtedly gained their sympathy. It was as if they had forgott that they once called Kevin the "Devil''s Advocate." Now, they were more inclined to support Kevin against the rude district attorney.


    This sce did not escape the judge''s notice either. The judge smiled, shook his head, and left through a side passage. Based on his rich experice, he could already predict that during the final trial, Camille would lose, and lose badly.


    This was not some mystical foresight but a judgmt based on experice. The more confidt someone was, the more polite they appeared, because they were certain of their victory. On the other hand, those who became flustered always ded up losing. Psychologically, Camille had already lost.


    The judge had high hopes for Camille. He was young, ergetic, and had an insatiable desire to uncover the truth. More importantly, he was a man of justice. However, the momt Camille was chos as a candidate for the position of state prosecutor, he lost his balance.


    He wanted to make a big splash and establish his dominance, but he had tripped up unexpectedly.


    Kevin glanced at his right hand, shrugged, and th turned and walked briskly toward the door. Julian, who had be sitting siltly, now stood up and followed Kevin outside. ??¨N¦¥§®¦Ñ??.?¦¨?


    "I must congratulate you. It looks like you''ve got this in the bag."


    Kevin was pleased with Julian''s complimt. This case would not only allow him to leave Camille far behind, but the ultimate victory would also add a bright feather to his cap. After all, not everyone could defeat a prosecutor wh starting from a disadvantaged position¡ªof course, cheating didn''t count.


    He had paved the way for his future in the capital and earned a thousand dollar fee. There was nothing about this case that didn''t satisfy him.


    Kevin''s joy was writt all over his face. "There''s nothing really to be proud of, although I do feel proud..." He stopped, raised his arm, and adjusted his sleeve just ough to reveal his wristwatch. "I have a dinner later. Why don''t you join me? I''ll introduce you to two people."


    As a seasoned lawyer, Kevin oft mingled with all sorts of people, from vagrants to city magnates. Any of them could provide valuable information or become pottial clits. Among his most frequt contacts were police officers and their chiefs.


    In Ternell, you could offd anyone, but never the police chief.


    According to imperial law, police had the right to briefly detain individuals they deemed suspicious. If they found ev a shred of evidce, they could apply for arrest and search warrants. Over the past decade, at least three magnates in Ternell had be ruined after offding the police chief. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    However, this didn''t mean the chief was a tyrant; he was smart ough to know that not every magnate was an easy target.


    Kevin''s invitation was timely. With things heating up outside, Julian naturally needed a powerful backer to shield him, and the police chief was one of the strongest supporters available.


    The two of them got into Kevin''s car. It was notable that despite Julian''s rising fame in Ternell, he still didn''t own a car¡ªquite humble, indeed.


    Lunch was at Ternell''s finest restaurant, Jasmine''s Iridesct Onyx River. Jasmine was the name of the restaurant''s owner, a stunning woman in her thirties. Rumor had it she was the mayor''s lover, with some colorful versions of the story fueling the imaginations of workers. No one dared to discuss it oply though, whether true or not, as it meant crossing powerful people.


    The restaurant''s real name, "Iridesct Onyx River." Located at the corner of Twelfth and Elevth streets in the city cter, across from Ternell''s City Hall, the restaurant was quite prestigious. Unlike other restaurants, there was no public dining area here. From the momt they tered, staff guided Kevin and Julian into Private Room 9.


    Some said this restaurant was a hotbed of shady dealings, while others claimed it was a breeding g for corruption. In any case, those who dined here were either chasing wealth through power or possessed vast fortunes and sought more influce.


    Upon tering Private Room 9, the opult decor made one feel as though they had stepped into a palace. The dominant colors were crimson, gold, and iridesct , with every detail reflecting the designer''s meticulous efforts.

 Chapter 68: Chapter 68 The Unwritten Rule Of The Game

    In the room sat two middle aged m. One was slightly chubby, balding, and had fair skin. The other had darker skin, somewhat resembling a person from the southern provinces, with a sharp look and a small mustache on his upper lip.


    Kevin tered, closing the door behind him, and hung his jacket on the rack. "This is my very good frid, Julian," he said, first introducing Julian. The two m adjusted their expressions slightly. Kevin th introduced them to Julian. "This big guy here is Mr. Gawain, a brave veteran of the Empire, now serving as the Fire Chief."


    "And this is Mr. Prando, the guardian of our city and the bane of criminals¡ªthe police chief!"


    Julian humbly walked over, bowed slightly, and lightly shook hands with both m. After a few polite exchanges, he returned to Kevin''s side. Kevin was a man of his word. He was an honest lawyer, and if he said he would introduce Julian to important figures, he would follow through. Whether Julian could befrid them, however, was up to him.


    The slightly tse atmosphere in the private room lasted less than a minute before Julian spoke up.


    Kevin looked at him with interest, while the two bigwigs regarded Julian with a mixture of arrogance and curiosity. They already knew that since Kevin hadn''t mtioned any specific title or backg for Julian, he was likely a nobody.


    "Mr. Prando, funny ough, I was planning to visit the police station. A few days ago, while handling some business at the Imperial Ctral Bank, I found a key but couldn''t locate the owner. I was going to hand it in at the police station, but now that I have the pleasure of meeting you here, I thought I''d ask for your help in finding its owner."


    He produced the key, intricately designed with a complex pattern on the head.


    Anyone with a bit of knowledge would immediately recognize it¡ªthe key to a private safety deposit box at the Imperial Ctral Bank.


    The next second, the haughty look on Prando''s face vanished, replaced by a warm, fridly smile. He pointed at Julian and said with a chuckle, "You''re quite an upstanding young man. In such a chaotic society, maintaining basic morals is commdable." He carefully pocketed the key to the Ctral Bank''s personal vault.


    Gawain, expressionless, siltly observed the subtle exchange of bribery, his gaze still fixed on Julian.


    Many people think the fire departmt is not a power departmt but a service departmt. After all, wh there''s a fire or someone is in trouble, the first thought is to call the fire departmt and those helmeted firefighters in heavy gear. But in reality, the fire departmt holds significant power. Many gangs not only need to pay a tribute to the police departmt but also to the fire departmt.


    According to imperial law, all facilities have a maximum occupancy limit, and they must be equipped with fire safety equipmt. In Ternell, the most profitable businesses are oft tied to bars, which are also a significant source of cash. The daily sales of cider and moonshine provide gangs with far more profit than any other avue.


    So, to keep their bars running, they must maintain good relations with the fire departmt.


    If someone offds the fire departmt, having their bar shut down for rectifications is just the beginning. Once, a gang behind a thriving bar had a dispute with the fire departmt over the amount of tribute, leading to the bar''s closure. The fire departmt claimed the bar had fire hazards and poor design, limiting the occupancy of a nearly 500-square-meter bar to just t people! ???¦®????.§³¦¨§®


    Failure to comply not only meant closure but also hefty fines.


    In the d, the bar was shut down, and the gang behind it had to spd a fortune finding an intermediary to admit their mistake to the fire departmt and promise to pay tribute according to the rules. Only th did they reop the bar under a new name.


    If the police departmt is the sharp blade hanging over the gangs, the fire departmt is the hidd gun. Offding either side without sufficit power would make survival in Ternell impossible.


    Julian, having giv a key to the police chief, certainly wouldn''t forget the fire departmt. With a sincere smile, he spoke clearly, "I rectly started a company on Que''s Boulevard, and it''s currtly under rovation. I hope Mr. Gawain can take some time to guide us on fire safety installations and rovation issues."


    Gawain maintained his stern expression but visibly relaxed, his gaze softing. He nodded, signaling his body had loosed up. "Serving every taxpayer is the duty of our fire departmt. Leave the address, and I''ll personally supervise the site."


    Before the meal ev began, both Prando and Gawain had secured some extra income, leaving them quite satisfied. Prando ev smiled at Kevin and said, "Your frid is quite interesting!"


    Your frid!


    Not my frid!


    Nor did he specifically mtion Julian''s name! S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It wasn''t that Prando had forgott Julian''s name or that he didn''t want to be frids with him. It was just that they wer''t sure yet if Julian was truly sincere in his desire to become frids. They were aware that many wanted to befrid them, but few showed sufficit sincerity.


    Kevin remained silt, merely casting a surprised look at Julian, who stayed calm.


    Bribery had become an unwritt rule of the game. Ev the mayor had some questionable funds tucked away in anonymous bank accounts. Governors, state legislators, and council members were no exceptions; could escape this vortex. Some willingly embraced corruption, while others had to learn to play along.


    Standing out as an opposition to this trd would achieve nothing but getting crushed by the wheels of the system or drowned by its tides.


    While everyone was lining their pockets, there were still ways to do it properly. For low level officers, like patrolling police, no special approach was needed¡ªjust hand them twty dollars on the spot, and that would be more satisfying than any other method. But for higher level officials like Prando and Gawain, blatantly offering cash would only offd them and yield no help or favor.

 Chapter 69: Chapter 69 Bribe

    Kevin never taught Julian how to bribe, yet Julian managed to play a game Kevin had never se before. It was public, yet so well played that Kevin was impressed.


    Without a doubt, the Imperial Ctral Bank''s private safety deposit box likely held a large sum of cash. Once Prando unlocked that box, the money would be his. As for taking bribes?


    Don''t be ridiculous. He simply found a key and failed to suppress his curiosity and greed. That wasn''t a crime, merely a moral shortcoming. Superiors wouldn''t dismiss someone over a moral lapse, especially if it could be "handled" with some dialogue. Through this subtle bribe, Julian had already won over the two influtial m at their very first meeting, an impressive feat.


    Had Julian be 5 or 30 years old, Kevin would have thought nothing of it. Surviving that long without being deceived oft meant ough life experice. But Julian was only sixte¡ªwhere did he gain such wisdom?


    Some things were truly terrifying to think about.


    The meal was pleasant for all parties. Julian left first, ssing that Kevin, Gawain, and Prando avoided discussing anything ssitive because of his presce. Realizing this, he excused himself, leaving them the privacy they needed. His courteous departure left a favorable impression on the trio, such considerate young m were rare.


    Once the door closed, Prando chuckled, patting his pocket. "That kid''s quite something. I just wonder if his sincerity is as strong as it seems."


    Kevin, picking his teeth, raised an eyebrow and mumbled, "Don''t worry, it won''t be less than a solid figure."


    A "solid figure" was code for t thousand dollars, an exorbitant sum for a small place like Ternell.


    Both Prando and Gawain were tak aback. According to their usual arrangemts, the monthly tribute from gangs, disguised as charitable donations from community minded merchants, was only three to five thousand dollars. This money was split from the top down, with every officer and ev the doorman receiving a share.


    Ternell''s police force consisted of five stations and a total of 70 officers, overseeing a city of nearly 400,000. Depding on their rank, each officer received betwe three and fifty dollars monthly from these tributes, while Prando took five hundred dollars for himself.


    The situation at the fire departmt was similar. Though their contributions from the "charitable donations" were smaller, Gawain''s share was notably less than Prando''s¡ªhe received only three hundred dollars.


    So wh Kevin mtioned a "solid figure," the young man''s gerosity astounded them!


    Money was good, but sometimes too much money could be unsettling.


    "There won''t be any problems, right?" Prando wiped his face with a wet napkin, trying to calm down. "I may be the police chief, but I''m not omnipott. Some things ev I can''t handle. If we take the money but do nothing, that could spell trouble." ???¦®?¦Ñ?§Á.???


    Little did Prando know, problems were already brewing before he ev got his hands on the money.


    ...


    "Boss, someone reported witnessing a murder on the street. What should we do now?"


    Pronto had just returned to the police station, and one foot was still outside the door wh a young officer approached him. The officer pointed to an elderly woman sitting on a nearby bch. Pronto rolled his eyes, let out a burp laced with the sct of alcohol, and muttered, "What should we do? Of course, we op a case and investigate, find the murderer.


    Do you need me to hold your hand and walk you through it so you know what to do?"


    Just as Pronto was about to walk inside to his office, intding to rest for a while in the backroom, the young officer stepped in front of him again, blocking his path. In less than a second, Pronto''s expression shifted from annoyance to a flicker of anger. His eyes gleamed with irritation, and his tone was sharp, "For God''s sake, what now? Did someone''s cow go missing, or is there a clogged sewer?"


    The young officer awkwardly smiled and whispered, "The deceased is one of Wood''s close associates, Mr. Jim."


    The buzz of alcohol instantly left Pronto''s body. He shuddered slightly, grabbed the young officer by the collar, and pulled him close, their faces almost touching. "Did you say Wood? And you mtioned a public murder? There must be more than one witness. Get the facts straight, and follow me."


    As he was about to ter the office, Pronto knocked on the desk next to the door, and a woman in her thirties, with a pleasant face, looked up at him. "Get Shaun over here, now!" he barked, before storming into his office, the young officer trailing behind.


    Sitting in his comfortable boss''s chair, Pronto tugged at his collar and pointed to the bar in the corner. "Get me some damn ice water. God, did they only teach you how to stand at atttion at the academy?"


    The young officer lowered his head, walked to the bar, and prepared a glass of iced water for Pronto. It was said that the capital had already started selling household mini-freezers, but that was still a distant dream for Ternell. All the ice in the city came from the Ternell Ice Factory, divided into three categories: ice made from boiled water, tap water, and well water.


    The materials used dictated the price, and naturally, Pronto used only the best. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He took the glass of chilled water, gulped it down, and felt an instant sse of relief wash over him. Being overweight had its downsides¡ªhe needed ice water to cool down ev in autumn. He placed the glass on the coaster on his desk and looked at the young officer, motioning for him to speak. "Don''t you think you should say something now?"


    The officer jolted and immediately started talking. "Aside from the elderly woman outside who needs to rest due to shock, over twty people have come forward, all claiming they witnessed the murder. The only idtified deceased so far is Jim. He was stabbed multiple times and died on the spot."

 Chapter 70: Chapter 70 Shaun

    "In addition to that, there''s another murder victim, but their face was completely disfigured. We hav''t be able to idtify them yet. According to witnesses, the victim was se hanging a with a group of vagrants, possibly gang-affiliated..."


    It took a momt before Pronto finally looked up at the officer. "What did you just say?" The officer stiffed, about to respond, but Pronto waved him off. "Never mind, I get it. You''ve done well. Keep investigating this, now!" S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After the young officer left, Pronto sighed. He hadn''t paid atttion to what the officer said after learning that Jim was dead. His mind immediately wt to the gang wars. Rectly, he had heard that someone had violated the rules of the three major bootlegging factions in Ternell, secretly selling high proof illegal alcohol to bars without their const.


    Since the day he heard about it, he''d had a feeling that if that fool kept breaking the rules, the three factions would join forces to crush him. Sure ough, within days, Wood had already lost three people st to gather information. It had to be the hot headed youngsters who had done it. Back th, Pronto still thought there was a chance to de-escalate the situation.


    If those involved were willing to pay up, apologize, and follow the rules, maybe things wouldn''t escalate further.


    And now? Jim was dead!


    Did this mean the two groups were about to go to war?


    As the police chief of Ternell, Pronto hated¡ªand feared¡ªgang wars the most. Small time gang wars were easier to deal with due to the limited numbers and scope, but wh the big players wt to war, it was a disaster. They would mobilize more people, fight on a larger scale, brazly gaging in mutual vdettas and ev large scale slaughter!


    This wasn''t unheard of in Ternell. Every time a major gang war broke out, it meant big trouble for Pronto¡ªfrom the public, from his superiors, and from taxpayers.


    If things got too out of hand, the Imperial Bureau of Criminal Investigation would definitely step in, and if things wt wrong, he could find himself reassigned to some godforsak place to guard fish ponds.


    This was indeed a big problem!


    At that momt, the door swung op, and a guy strolled in, casual as ever, not ev wearing his uniform¡ªShaun. He wasn''t a police officer; he belonged to the Imperial Bureau of Criminal Investigation, officially known as the Imperial Security and Defse Investigation Bureau.


    While the local police handled regional security, the Bureau managed the security of the tire empire, including major criminal cases. They had more authority than the local police, with agts stationed in every city.


    Shaun was Ternell''s agt.


    Rumor had it that Shaun had messed up somewhere and was st to Ternell as a form of punishmt. He was young and had a bit of a devil-may-care attitude. Since arriving in Ternell, he hadn''t caused Pronto much trouble. In Pronto''s eyes, Shaun resembled a gang member more than an investigator. He spt most of his time hanging a with shady individuals or frequting various bars. §®¡Ì?¦¥????.?¦¨?


    Shaun had only be in Ternell for less than two years, but wh it came to understanding the local gangs, he knew more than Pronto himself.


    "What''s up?" Shaun rubbed his eyes. He''d spt the night partying with a woman, and if Pronto''s secretary hadn''t called him, he''d probably still be asleep. By the way, Shaun''s office was on the second floor of the police station, in the southernmost corner.


    He grabbed a glass from the bar, dropped in a few ice cubes, and pulled a bottle of thirty-five-dollar liquor from the shelf, pouring himself a drink.


    Watching him move a as if it were his own home, Pronto''s eyes wided. "Didn''t you hear? Jim is dead!"


    Shaun took a sip, nodded in satisfaction, and asked, "Where''d you get this? It''s pretty good."


    Pronto slammed his hand on the desk, his temper flaring. "Are you deaf or something?"


    Shaun paused, th said, "Are you speaking in a non-human language?" He chuckled, taking advantage of Pronto''s temporary silce to walk over and press him back into his chair. "I heard you, I heard you. Jim, right? He''s dead. So what? Everyone dies, ev God messger is dead, Only God is eternal."


    Pronto, who had be fuming, suddly felt there was no point in getting angry. No wonder Shaun had be st to Ternell¡ªhis attitude made him more suited for the countryside!


    It might have be the alcohol, or maybe it was because Pronto had yelled at him, but Shaun was gradually sobering up. He shook the glass that now only had ice left in it and casually placed it on Pronto''s desk. Pronto immediately removed the condsation-covered glass from his beloved desk and wiped the faint water stain with a handkerchief.


    Wh it came to Shaun, Pronto felt utterly helpless. At first, he had be somewhat in awe of him¡ªafter all, Shaun was from the Imperial Bureau of Criminal Investigation, a figure not to be trifled with, especially for someone like Pronto, who had spt his whole life in the small city of Ternell. But it didn''t take long for that initial awe to fade into indifferce.


    Sometimes, Pronto ev questioned how Shaun had become an agt; he didn''t have the demeanor or the awaress of one.


    Shaun behaved like a street thug, always hanging out with lowlifes and never showing interest in the cases occurring in the city. Ev the telegrams from the capital were oft tossed directly into the trash by him. It was as if he had giv up completely and was now indulging himself. He didn''t ev bother with the systematic corruption within the police departmt, where everyone received bribes.


    In fact, he had ev asked Pronto to cut him in.


    His reasoning was simple: as a member of the Ternell Police Departmt, he was titled to the extra "subsidies" that came with the job, and he demanded fifty a month.

 Chapter 71: Chapter 71 The New Player In The Town

    How could Pronto feel any respect for such a person, despite his unusual authority?


    Annoyance was more like it!


    Standing by the window, Shaun snapped his fingers and turned to sit on the windowsill. "I remember now¡ªJim, Wood, right?" Pronto weakly nodded, and Shaun''s face lit up with a grin. "I knew I''d heard that name before. What''s up? He''s dead? Who did it?"


    Pronto shot Shaun a tired look. Shaun must have realized something because he awkwardly chuckled, patting Pronto''s shoulder without a hint of shame. "Oh right, you''re asking me."


    In truth, Pronto didn''t know much about this case. He avoided close ties with the gangs and didn''t like being se interacting with them. If word got out, it could cost him his job. Gangs also avoided associating with him. For gang members, ev if they lost an arm to an emy, they''d rather hold out for revge than call the police. They would never seek justice through law forcemt.


    Any disputes betwe gangs had to be settled according to gang rules. Anyone who involved the police would be despised and ostracized by all gangs and might ev face vigilante justice, like Jim''s wife did.


    Pronto had no idea that Wood had kidnapped Julian''s mother and brother, which explained the swift and ruthless retaliatory killings.


    At that momt, Pronto classified the two murders as acts of revge. But he also knew that no matter how he labeled it, it didn''t change one fact: war had begun. He furrowed his brow slightly and asked, "Is there any way to de-escalate this? Like finding a mediator, getting both bosses to sit down and talk, and avoid a full blown war?"


    Shaun cast a disdainful glance at Pronto. The way he moved, the look in his eyes¡ªit was as if he were a gang member himself. "Are you kidding? Wood''s already lost two of his top m. Do you really think he''s going to agree to a sit down?"


    "Forgive my bluntness, but this is beyond your ability to stop or interfere with. You don''t have the... capacity." What Shaun really wanted to say was that Pronto didn''t have the qualifications. Sure, Pronto was an impressive figure as the police chief of Ternell, responsible for the city''s security.


    But so what? He wasn''t a robot, nor was he a war machine. He was just a chubby human being, no differt from the thugs on the street. He could make a mistake, just like anyone else. He could be injured by a knife or killed by a bullet, just like Jim. In fact, he might ev be more vulnerable because he didn''t have the same level of caution as those thugs.


    Of course, wh everyone played by the rules, Pronto, as the police chief, was the biggest piece on the chessboard. Everyone had to respect and follow the rules he laid down. But once someone stepped outside those rules, what was Pronto th?


    Just another imperial official who could be assassinated, silced like anyone else.


    So, in Shaun''s eyes, Pronto didn''t count for much. He was far less dangerous than those gangsters who wer''t afraid to kill.


    While Shaun was focused on Pronto, Pronto''s atttion was on the name Shaun had casually mtioned¡ªGraf, and more importantly, Julian!


    "You mean... Julian?" Ev now, Pronto couldn''t believe it. "You''re telling me that the person going to war with Wood is a guy named Julian?" §®??¦¥??¦´?.?§°§®


    Shaun nodded, a bit puzzled. "Yeah, Julian. The whole city of Ternell knows about him by now. He''s young, ruthless, and shrewd. Most importantly, they''re not afraid to kill. Wh Wood''s m wt missing, everyone suspected it was Julian''s doing, though there''s no proof.


    Impressive kid, but hey, I wasn''t too bad back in the day either¡­" S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Sixte!


    A young man!


    Pronto''s heart inexplicably raced. He touched the heavy key to his Imperial Ctral Bank safety deposit box in his chest pocket, suddly finding it burdsome. After a momt of thought, he ignored Shaun''s reminiscing about his lost youth and drove straight to the Imperial Ctral Bank, where he located the safety deposit box the key belonged to.


    Inside the box were t stacks of t-dollar bills. Although they were labeled as "old bills," they wer''t very old¡ªjust circulated and used bills with non sequtial serial numbers. Tracking these bills was difficult, ev for the Imperial Bureau of Criminal Investigation, which made them the favorite type of currcy for bribe takers.


    In the past, Pronto would have be thrilled¡ªafter all, t thousand dollars was the largest "donation" he had ever received. But now, he couldn''t bring himself to smile.


    Because the person who had giv him this money was Julian!


    More importantly, he now understood Julian''s methods. That seemingly young, innoct looking boy had orchestrated two brutal murders, right out in the op. He didn''t care about witnesses¡ªPronto ev suspected he wanted to be se. It was his way of sding a message, a signal to all the bigwigs in Ternell: they had a new player in town!


    ...


    Though a storm was clearly brewing, there wasn''t ev a hint of tsion in the air.


    Wood stared at the three bodies on the g, his eyes filled with sorrow. People on the outside called him a thug, a mad butcher, but that didn''t mean a butcher or a thug was devoid of feelings. He was still human, capable of joy, anger, sadness, and happiness. Both Jim and Jiji had be with him for a long time. These two m were more than just his comrades¡ªthey were like family to him.


    Whether they were so poor they couldn''t afford to eat meat or charging into battle against powerful emies, these two had always stuck by his side, never once falling behind. Their presce had become an inseparable part of Wood''s life, something that could never be erased, no matter the method or the momt.


    But now, they were dead, their bodies lying right before him.


    He wanted to cry, but he couldn''t find the tears to break through his eyes.

 Chapter 72: Chapter 72 The Consequences Of Interrupting The Guar Crucifixion

    He almost felt like laughing¡ªafter all, they had promised to travel the world together wh they were old and gray, but they''d tak a step ahead of him and would never get to joy those sights.


    In a way, they were the ones who lost out! sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    No matter how turbult the emotions storming within him, his outward appearance betrayed nothing. He sat backward in a chair, his hands resting on the back of it, propping up his chin. He had be staring at the three bodies for a long time, without moving, as though time had froz a him.


    Inside the room, a few others were prest, with ev more people gathered outside, but no one dared to make a sound. They all wanted to know what to do next, but no one had the courage to ask.


    After what seemed like an eternity, as the oppressive atmosphere threated to drive everyone mad, Robin stepped forward. He grabbed a cloth and covered the three bodies. Wood''s gaze shifted from Jim and Jiji to Robin. His eyes were deep, filled with rage and violce, yet eerily calm.


    "Tell me, wh you were a teager, did you ever think a day like this would come? That one day, I, or someone else, or maybe ev these two idiots, would suddly leave us and be embraced by the Lord?" Wood''s tone was steady as he spoke, but only Robin could sse the faint tremor in his voice.


    Robin thought for a momt, th shook his head. "You need to pull yourself together now. You didn''t just have them, you also have¡­"


    Before Robin could finish, Wood abruptly stood up, lifting the chair and slamming it to the g. Splinters of wood flew in all directions. He picked up what was left of the chair''s backrest and smashed it against the wall. With a loud crash, the backrest shattered into pieces.


    Wood paced back and forth a few times, pointing at Robin but saying nothing. He paced again, th stopped, looking straight at Robin. "I want blood for blood. Sd Graf''s mother and brother to serve as slaves for those two idiots!" It was the only solution Wood could think of that would satisfy his rage.


    But Robin didn''t move, remaining where he stood.


    "What? Didn''t you hear me?" Wood''s voice grew louder as he stormed over to Robin, nearly face to face. Staring directly into Robin''s eyes, he asked in a voice dripping with hatred, "Or do you think I can''t command you anymore?"


    Robin took a step back, raising his hands with palms outward in a calming gesture. "You need to stay calm. Killing them won''t solve anything¡ªit will only make things worse. To be honest, I''d rather sd them to meet the Lord right away myself. I almost died because of them."


    "If you blindly kill Graf''s mother and brother now, all it will do is make more Guar supporters rally to their cause, making them ev stronger. It won''t befit us at all. Wood, you have to calm down!"


    As Robin spoke, the sound of glass shattering suddly came from upstairs. A group of m wearing trch coats and bowler hats rushed out of the room.


    Wood and Robin were momtarily stunned. A couple of m quickly wt upstairs to investigate, and within two minutes, they returned, holding a brick with a piece of paper attached to it. The man who brought it down had an odd expression on his face as he set the brick on the table. ?¡Ì??????.?¦¨?


    Wood snorted and walked over, pulling the paper from the brick. Scrawled in crooked handwriting, it read: "All traitors must face the consequces of their actions. You freed her, so now you will take her place and face judgmt!"


    Wood read it twice before shoving the paper into Robin''s hands. "What the hell does this mean?"


    Robin glanced at the note, his expression darking. He turned to look at the three bodies covered with cloth and said in a low voice, "In the Guar faith, traitors are flayed and left crucified to bake in the sun for three days. If they survive those three days, it means they''ve be forgiv by their faith and can live on."


    "The process cannot be interrupted. If someone interrupts it, that person must take their place and face the judgmt."


    Robin wasn''t a Guar, but he had heard about their customs after Jim''s wife had be flayed, which had left him in disbelief. He had asked someone with knowledge of the Guar faith and learned what flaying meant.


    There wer''t many words on the note, but the message was clear: someone was going to flay Wood. Whether it was someone from Julian''s side or another Guar, it wasn''t good news. It would crush the morale of everyone. Robin stuffed the note into his pocket and crumpled it, suring no one else would see it.


    The m who had rushed out earlier came back empty-handed, though they reported hearing from the gatekeeper that the culprit was just a child, no older than thirte or fourte.


    Wood and Robin exchanged a glance¡ªit had to be one of Julian''s m.


    "We have to strike back!" Wood shouted, clching his fist. His words lifted the spirits of everyone in the room. With two key figures dead, doing nothing would only lead to disappointmt. Wh Wood spoke of retaliation, they nearly erupted in cheers. Wood paced a few more steps. "Have we found out where Julian and Graf are hiding?"


    With Jim and Jiji dead, Robin had effectively become Wood''s "right-hand man." He quickly replied, "Our m are keeping an eye on Graf. We''ve also got someone watching Julian. They''re holed up in an office on Que''s Avue."


    A cruel smile crept across Wood''s face. "What are we waiting for th?"


    ...


    "They''re coming out!"


    Outside the security booth at Maixiang Gard, a young plainclothes officer spotted a group of people emerging from Wood''s villa and quickly ducked back.

 Chapter 73: Chapter 73 Benefits Of Walking

    Pronto had stationed him here with instructions to report any large scale movemts of Wood''s m directly to the police station. If anything like that happed, the officer was to notify Pronto immediately.


    The young officer showed no sign of fear or tsion despite the looming threat of a gang war. Instead, his face was filled with the excitemt and anticipation typical of youth. He, too, was a young man with the same restless ergy, eager to prove himself and make a mark on the world.


    In many ways, he wasn''t so differt from the gang members wandering the streets, except perhaps for his fortunate upbringing, which had giv him a respectable job right after school.


    Being a police officer was certainly a respectable job, but it wasn''t necessarily one that satisfied the ambitions of a young man. It was a job suited for older m nearing retiremt, not for someone still full of curiosity and dreams for the future.


    Three cars¡ªno, four¡ªquickly pulled out of Maixiang Gard, packed with people. The young officer clched his fists tightly as he watched them drive away. He immediately grabbed his unlocked bicycle, ready to follow. His older partner, however, grabbed his arm before he could leave. The younger officer tried to shake him off but couldn''t.


    The older officer shook his head, advising, "List to me. Don''t go after them. As a police officer, you''re in more danger than anyone else."


    The young officer retorted, "Exactly because I''m a police officer, I have to follow them. You go back to the station and tell the chief that Wood is probably out for revge. I''ll follow them." With that, he pried the older officer''s hand off and pedaled away on his bike.


    The older officer called out after him a few times, but the young man didn''t look back. All that was left was the sight of his retreating figure and his name echoing in the air.


    The older officer shook his head and mounted his own bike, pedaling hard toward the station, hoping to get back to the safety of the station as quickly as possible.


    The news soon made its way back to the Ternell City Police Station, and Pronto was informed. Faced with Wood''s impding act of vgeance, Pronto had few options. He could either take all his m and try to stop the revge attack¡ªwhich might force Wood to back down, but only temporarily. Wood would still march toward Que Street tomorrow, determined to find Julian.


    And there was another risk: if Julian managed to escape due to Pronto''s interferce, Wood might hold him responsible.


    Pronto never believed that his position as police chief made him untouchable. Ev the imperial prime minister had be assassinated twice, so what made him, a mere local police chief, think he could avoid all threats?


    Ignoring the situation tirely would also bring trouble.


    Gang wars were always a ssitive topic, especially for politicians who wanted their territories to seem peaceful and prosperous. If something happed that shattered that illusion, the always smiling politicians wouldn''t be smiling anymore. As the primary person responsible for Ternell''s security, Pronto would be the first to face questioning, and he might ev be dismissed and investigated.


    On one side was the possibility of angering a powerful figure, which could lead to threats. On the other was the risk of losing his position and the chair beath him. After only a brief momt of thought, Pronto made his decision.


    ???¦®????.???


    He would interve¡ªnot to stop the conflict, but at least to manage it. That way, if anyone asked later, he wouldn''t bear too much responsibility. He could argue that he had done his best, but giv the outdated equipmt and the elderly officers in the Ternell police force, he simply couldn''t do more.


    It wouldn''t be his fault!


    With that in mind, he immediately had his secretary inform all officers to gear up and prepare to move out. As he did so, a troubling thought crossed his mind. Two officers from the night patrol had mysteriously disappeared rectly, and their families had be causing a commotion at the station for days before he managed to calm them down.


    Whether those two had be killed or run off after doing something shady, they had left him with a mess to deal with.


    Wh all the available officers were ready to move, a police sergeant in his thirties asked, "Chief, are we going on foot or driving?"


    Pronto''s eyes wided. "Of course we''re walking!"


    The older officers, who had be a bit tse, immediately relaxed upon hearing this. Walking?


    No problem!


    It would take about fifte minutes to walk from th Street to Que Street at a fast pace, and no more than half an hour at a slower pace. By the time they arrived, Wood''s m would likely already be at Que Street. By the time they got there, the fight would probably be over, and the bodies cold. They could simply show up, clean up the mess, and that would be that.


    Just as they thought, four cars packed with people stopped in front of one of Julian''s properties. Wood looked at the lifeless building and felt his eyelid twitch.


    "Are you sure they''re inside?" he asked, glancing at Robin, who had just stepped out of the driver''s seat. "Because I don''t think anyone''s in there."


    Robin looked at the corner building with its large glass windows, which showed off the newly furnished interior of the first floor. But there wasn''t a person in sight. The curtains were drawn on the second and third floors, hiding whatever was inside. Robin hesitated and glanced a.


    At that momt, a figure in a high-collared trch coat and bowler hat, wrapped tightly in layers, emerged from a nearby alley. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Are they still inside?" Robin asked.


    The figure nodded, taking one last drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the g and grinding it out with his foot. "I saw Julian go in with my own eyes. They hav''t come out. They''re definitely still in there."

 Chapter 74: Chapter 74 Robin Last Moments

    Robin looked to Wood. Wood waved his hand without saying a word, and two m wielding clubs smashed the first-floor windows and oped the door from the inside. At least twty m swarmed into the building, armed with clubs, machetes, and two with handguns.


    After searching the first floor and finding no one, they charged up the stairs to the second floor like wolves. That''s wh Julian''s m struck back.


    Several brok stone pillars were thrown down from the second floor, crushing some of the m who had rushed ahead. Skulls cracked op, legs were shattered, and the air filled with agonized wails.


    In this kind of fight, stairways were the best places to defd and the hardest to attack. Stairways were narrow, allowing at most two people to pass at a time, while the top of the stairs was wide op, allowing a larger group to attack the smaller one below.


    This was why sieges in the age of cold weapons required waves of lives to fill the gaps¡ªbecause the attackers were always outnumbered by those defding.


    One man, who had be at the back of the group, rushed forward, spotted a figure on the second floor, and fired two quick shots without bothering to aim. The bullets tore into the wood, sding splinters flying. Taking advantage of their emy''s hesitation, several more m charged up the stairs. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The sound of fighting and shouting filled the air, with occasional gunfire ringing out. Not long after, three more cars sped down the street and screeched to a halt nearby. More m poured out¡ªthese were the ones who had heard of Wood''s revge and had come from other parts of the city. They were armed with clubs and machetes and rushed up the stairs without a word.


    They were ev more eager to kill Julian and Graf. These were Jim and Jiji''s m, desperate to avge their bosses by taking the lives of Julian or Graf.


    Just as the noise of battle began to spread to the third floor, Robin noticed something moving at the edge of his vision.


    Humans are animals, too, and are naturally more ssitive to movemt. Wh Robin turned to see what had caught his atttion, his eyes narrowed, and in an instant, every hair on his body stood on d as chills ran down his spine!


    In the shattered glass mirror, Robin saw his frail self, the disheveled Wood beside him, and behind them, a group of young faces wearing flat caps began to close in.


    Sometimes, gangs are indeed better than the police at figuring things out. For instance, wh Jiji was killed, someone saw a young man in a trch coat and flat cap approach Jiji, pull a gun from his pocket, and shoot Jiji in the head. He was a very delicate looking young man, with features that leaned toward the feminine. Some ev swore that it was a girl, not a boy.


    ???¦¥?¦Ñ£¤?.§³??


    However, no matter what, Robin came to one conclusion: they were facing a "young emy." Apart from Graf, most of the people in this unique group were young¡ªfifte, sixte, sevte, eighte, or a twty years old. They were all Guars, all impoverished and destitute. They needed to change something, so they became Julian''s accomplices, helping him brutally murder his own brother.


    So what about the people behind them right now? Were they also part of Julian''s gang?


    In that instant, Robin''s mind seemed to flash back to his younger days, wh every detail and every clue worth noting separated themselves from countless fragmts, piecing together. In the next second, he grabbed Wood by the collar and, with Wood''s astonished expression, rushed towards the nearest car.


    It was a trap!


    He shouted frantically, "Those people upstairs are just bait, we are the real targets!" He shoved Wood into the back seat of the car, not ev bothering to close the door, his leg already stepping into the driver''s seat.


    The car keys were still in the ignition. He just needed to push a lever, let the catalyst ter the filling chamber, react with the crystal, and th wait for about t seconds, and the car would quickly speed down the street.


    But in just those one or two seconds, he heard footsteps closing in, felt a hand grab his collar, pulling him back. His face flushed, gripping the steering wheel, and with his other hand, he reached under the driver''s seat. Most people liked to keep handy items there. As he grabbed a wrch, he felt a sharp pain in his lower back. Without ev looking, he swung the wrch backward.


    With a dull thud, his hand tingled, and the force holding his collar suddly disappeared. He scrambled into the driver''s seat, twisted the key, and pushed the lever. He could feel the catalyst already reacting violtly with the crystal, and the car began to tremble slightly. Glancing to the side, he saw a group of young people rushing towards him.


    With a loud crash, the driver''s window shattered, and several knives plunged into his body. He clamped down on their arms with all his strgth, and at that momt, the car''s tremors intsified. He stomped on the accelerator, and the car lurched forward.


    In the back seat, Wood gasped for breath. He had also be attacked, with a slash on his back, another on his arm, and a cut about t ctimeters long on his face, the skin peeled back, exposing the yellowish fat beath. He was panting heavily, his whole body aching, but at that momt, he felt most grateful to Robin.


    If they had be just a little slower, he might have be killed. He had to admit that these young people were ruthless and decisive, always aiming for vital points with each attack. If not for Wood''s habit of staying active, he would likely be dead by now.


    "Wh we get back, bring in Godor''s m. No matter the cost, I want that guy dead in front of me!" Wood growled through gritted teeth, wincing in pain. He knew he had be too reckless and too impulsive. He should have listed to Robin, waited until everything was planned out before making a move, instead of rushing out blindly in a fit of rage without any preparation.

 Chapter 75: Chapter 75 The Slaughter

    He patted Robin on the shoulder. "I''m sorry. I should have listened to you!"


    Suddenly, the car swerved, and Wood was flung to one side, crashing hard against the door. With a thud, his shoulder was cut again by the shattered glass. He looked at Robin in confusion, but before he could speak, the speeding car came to an abrupt halt.


    With a screech of brakes, the tires smoked, leaving four long black skid marks on the ground, stretching more than twenty meters before the car finally stopped.


    Robin struggled to keep his eyes open, pushing the door open and tumbling out, collapsing to the ground. Wood''s mind went blank as he followed him out of the car. He looked down at Robin, who lay on his back, his chest barely rising and falling. Wood''s eyes immediately filled with tears. He screamed aimlessly, roaring as he knelt down, cradling Robin in his arms, shaking him desperately.


    Three fatal wounds¡ªtwo pierced his chest, one pierced his abdomen, and a large amount of blood had turned Robin''s favorite light brown wool sweater into a dark, blackish red.


    Coughing, Robin spat out a mouthful of blood, and for a moment, he seemed to improve. He opened his eyes, looked at Wood, and slowly lifted his hand, clutching Wood''s sleeve tightly. "Round the world trip..." The last word never left his mouth. His body tensed, then relaxed completely, and his hand slowly fell to the ground.


    Staring at Robin, now devoid of life, Wood remained silent for a moment. He suppressed the pain in his body and stuffed Robin into the back seat. By now, a crowd had gathered to watch, but he didn''t care in the slightest. He swore, he would avenge his brother, no matter the cost!


    Meanwhile, elsewhere, a massacre had just begun.


    Julian plunged a knife into the back of the guy who had been keeping watch in the alley. In fact, three days earlier, Julian had already noticed that someone was constantly observing the company from outside. The man thought he was well hidden, but who wears a bowler hat and a high collared trench coat every day, hiding in the same alley?


    So Julian bought the house next door and secretly had a door installed.


    When the guy outside thought Julian hadn''t left, he had already moved to the back room, changed clothes, crossed the street, and walked into the building next to the guy. He had rented an entire floor there, just in case of a sudden attack.


    When Wood showed up, all of Julian''s precautions paid off many times over!


    Pedestrians on the street either fled in panic or stood at a distance, silently watching. Julian, wearing a mask, ignored the man''s desperate gasps as if drowning. He pulled the bloodied knife out of his body.


    By then, some of the men from the company had retreated outside, but when they saw a group of teenagers with knives stabbing the five guards to death on the ground, and noticed that Wood and Robin were gone, their minds went blank.


    They had the advantage, the enemy was supposed to be hiding on the third floor¡ªso how had the situation turned around so suddenly?


    A guy holding a gun had just rushed out of the company''s front door, staring blankly at the group of masked youths closing in. In that moment of confusion, Dave fired. The bullet hit the guy square in the forehead. Because of the short distance, his head jerked back, and he fell to the ground, still twitching, struggling to get up.


    The gunshot was like a signal, the beginning of a bloody massacre.


    Meanwhile, Pronto was walking slowly, wiping sweat from his brow and gasping for air. "God above, will someone help me out?"


    ...


    In Julian''s dreams, the figure who had always appeared often warned him with a phrase: ''When two meet on a narrow road, the brave shall win!''"


    If you don''t want to become someone else''s stepping stone, then make others your stepping stones.


    "Fate is relatively fair. It gives opportunities to everyone, but whether one can see those opportunities and seize them has little to do with fate. For instance, a farmer might face years of drought, yet in a single rainy season, their fortunes could change entirely. But all this requires one''s actions to always be brave and bold."


    It may have been brief, but at least he shone with a brilliance that lasted for decades.


    This time, it was Julian''s opportunity. He would not let it slip away. If he eliminated Wood, he would undoubtedly secure a place for himself in Ternell City. Others might underestimate him for his lack of foundation and accumulation, but that didn''t matter to him. He only needed people to fear him, not respect him.


    Fear would make them listen to him, obey his orders, and become his sheep. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Respect would inevitably lead to questioning, opposition, and even obstacles in his path.


    Therefore, Wood must die!


    The slaughter spread from downstairs to upstairs, and the thugs crammed on the stairs were in despair. They realized that their opponents this time were unlike any they had ever encountered before. These enemies didn''t shout or curse to boost their morale or insult others. They were like beings born for killing¡ªsilent, efficient assassins.


    Every blade strike found a vital point, and every swing of their weapons aimed for the head.


    More importantly, they were unafraid of death. Like famished wolves who had tasted fresh blood, they only wanted more. They knew no fear, only the hunger to devour their enemies.


    A brand new truck emerged from one of the alleyways. Julian had bought it with cash from Ternell City''s only truck dealership four days ago. It was the most common "Hero 50" model on the market.


    The truck got its name from the Star Empire''s war of national defense, where railway lines for steam locomotives were severely damaged, preventing supplies and reinforcements from reaching the frontlines by train. The commanding general had to requisition a large number of trucks, transporting soldiers and supplies to the front lines batch by batch.

 Chapter 76: Chapter 76 Aftermath

    According to official statistics, each truck of this model, along with its driver and co-driver, could fit up to fifty people, stacking them like cargo. After the war, during a victory speech in the capital, the prime minister passionately proclaimed that the transport capacity and reliability of these trucks had been crucial in ending the war as planned, in victory.


    This truck was the hero among trucks, a true hero''s truck! sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The truck slowly pulled up to the company''s entrance. A few young men immediately began loading the corpses onto the truck. As the bodies piled up, blood started to drip through the gaps in the truck bed, and the sounds of slaughter within the company began to subside. Corpses were carried out by the young men, thrown onto the truck as if they were nothing.


    When the last injured thug, still barely alive, let out a faint moan, Dave walked over and plunged a dagger into his chest.


    He, too, was tossed onto the truck.


    The truck, loaded with bodies, along with a dozen injured young men and several members of The Fellowship Association who would never stand again, headed out of the city.


    What followed was a thorough cleanup. The girls and boys washed away the bloodstains on the road with water, and the blood splattered throughout the company''s interior was wiped away. Places that bore signs of struggle were smashed into fine pieces with thirty-pound hammers.


    If one ignored the pinkish water flowing into the sewers, no one would ever suspect that a battle had taken place here, one that claimed over thirty lives.


    As the cleanup was underway, the protector of Ternell City, Director Pronto, finally arrived, wobbling slightly with the support of two strong officers. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the sweat off his face, and sighed in satisfaction, "This damn weather is too hot..." His curious eyes glanced toward the building behind Julian.


    There were no gang members with drawn swords, no blood soaked, mangled bodies¡ªnone of the scenes he had expected.


    Wasn''t Wood supposed to be seeking revenge?


    Before Pronto could greet him, Julian disappeared into the alley, returning three minutes later in a different outfit, his mask removed. Pronto squinted, feeling a pang of jealousy. He understood why Julian had done this and had to admire his caution, prudence, and cleverness.


    Pronto then noticed a small detail: all the young people quickly dispersing from the street were wearing masks. If this wasn''t Kevin''s idea, then the young man smiling faintly in front of him was terrifyingly shrewd. Whatever had happened here, whatever witnesses might step forward to accuse Julian, they would have to face cross-examination from lawyers.


    How could they be certain of someone''s identity when they only saw two eyes under a hat and mask?


    Pronto could already imagine a group of young men standing before the court, all wearing hats and masks, indistinguishable from one another. How could any witness positively identify Julian in such a situation? Without clear identification, no matter how many people claimed they saw Julian, their testimony wouldn''t stand.


    Especially in a society where money could change certain things, without witnesses, testimony, or evidence and with money there would be no need for a trial, only a direct acquittal.


    This young man was very clever. And also very dangerous. At least for now, it seemed Wood had suffered a loss.


    "Director Pronto, is there some major event happening for you to bring so many officers with you?" Julian pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Pronto.


    Normally, Pronto would have refused¡ªnot because of the quality of the cigarette, but due to the difference in social class. Sometimes, the gap is so vast that even if you offer a delicious piece of meat to those in high positions, they''ll reject it not because the meat isn''t good, but because the person offering it isn''t "worthy."


    But this time, Pronto accepted it and put it in his mouth. Julian lit it for him and then lit his own.


    Pronto thought for a moment before smiling and saying, "The weather''s been cooling down, and the city''s heating hasn''t started yet. It''s cold in the office, so I brought the officers out for a walk to warm up."


    He was offering Julian a favor, knowing that whatever had happened today was no longer his concern. Anyone trying to pin this on him would need to consider if it was worth it.


    Julian nodded in agreement, criticizing the city''s inaction, then shifted the topic. "How about this? I''ll personally donate fifty radiators to the police station so that everyone can stay warm as the weather changes before the heating starts."


    A single radiator cost fifteen dollars, making it a total of seven hundred fifty dollars¡ªnot too much, but not too little. More importantly, he wasn''t giving money. Money only garners attention for a brief time, and once it''s spent, it''s forgotten. But items are different. Especially radiators¡ªthey could be used at home or in the office.


    Every time someone used them, they''d remember who had given them the radiators.


    Even if someone had a personal grudge against him, using the radiators that improved their living and working conditions would slowly change their perception.


    Pronto immediately nodded in praise, warmly shaking Julian''s hand and patting his arm¡ªhe didn''t dare pat Julian''s shoulder. "On behalf of all the officers in Ternell City, I thank you for your generosity!" He glanced back, and the stunned officers snapped to attention, clapping in unison.


    Julian smiled and said, "It''s only right. As a member of this city, this is what I should do. It''s because of your protection that our city is so peaceful and beautiful!"


    After the two exchanged some words that no one else could understand, Pronto immediately led the officers away. After walking a short distance, the friendly smile on his face gradually faded. He paused, stopped in his tracks, and slightly turned his body, glancing over his shoulder to watch Julian and two young men walk into the nearly destroyed storefront before shifting his gaze back.

 Chapter 77: Chapter 77 Casualties

    On the way back to the police station, Pronto didn''t say a word, and his face remained expressionless the entire time, maintaining a stern look from start to finish.


    To be honest, he didn''t like Julian. In fact, he disliked him very much. If given a choice, he would currently choose to support Wood instead of Julian. As part of the rule makers in Ternell City, he didn''t like "disruptors" who easily crossed the line and broke the rules. Those big figures above him the council members, or the mayor wouldn''t like Julian either.


    They preferred players like Wood, who followed the rules. Wood played by the game these powerful figures created, carefully maintaining the order. No matter what he encountered, Wood''s first thought was not to overstep, which was precisely what the rule makers appreciated.


    They had painstakingly crafted a vast and complex system of order, not for it to be broken, but to see everyone work together to maintain it, ensuring the smooth operation of the game.


    But Pronto had to show a level of closeness with Julian, and it was only at this moment that he realized the quiet, obedient young man at the dinner table, who barely spoke, was far from the silent person he appeared to be!


    That ten thousand dollars had become too hot to handle, impossible to shake off. Even if it felt like a scorching piece of meat, he had no choice but to swallow it whole because Julian was someone who didn''t follow the rules.


    Feeling deeply troubled, Pronto returned to the police station and headed back to his office. He pulled out a bottle of high end liquor gifted to him by someone and poured himself a glass.


    He needed to think. Think about how to pull this guy, who had one foot already outside the lines, back into control¡ªat least, to stop him from acting so recklessly. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Pronto may not have noticed that a young officer hadn''t followed them. Having just witnessed the brutal massacre and the swift cleanup as if nothing had happened, the other officers had also overlooked the fact that this young officer had trailed Wood''s car and had yet to return.


    This officer had been there the whole time, standing by the roadside, witnessing the entire "murder" unfold. He was angry, confused, and utterly at a loss.


    When had the line between black and white become so blurred in Ternell City? When he saw Pronto leading a group of officers to the scene, he had even thought that the chief was going to arrest these ruthless, brutal gang members. He had been ready to step forward and testify against Julian for his actions earlier.


    But when he saw the hot tempered chief conversing with that young man like old friends, even waving goodbye, he felt ashamed¡ªhe felt humiliated!


    "I am an officer. Upholding justice is my duty..."


    He had always told himself this, even though his original aspiration wasn''t to be a police officer.


    In that moment, his worldview, values, and outlook on life were shattered. He felt the need to talk to his family to figure out whether it was he who was sick, or the world around him.


    As he turned and walked away, Julian, with a dark expression, entered his store. The entire building had already been cleaned once, but the place still reeked of disinfectant, a harsh smell that masked the stench of blood and a faint rotten odor.


    The disinfectant had been purchased from a hospital at Julian''s request¡ªone dollar for less than three gallons of it, pungent enough to cover the smell of blood.


    Everyone gathered around, and Julian''s gaze lingered on each person for a moment. Except for a few girls, almost everyone was wounded. However, their spirits were high. None of them appeared dejected or in pain; instead, they seemed... exhilarated, meeting Julian''s eyes with fervor.


    "How many of us died?" Julian couldn''t help but light another cigarette, needing to ease the pressure in his heart.


    Dave smiled wryly, "Six are dead. One was shot, and the other five were stabbed to death." He paused, then added, "Nine are seriously injured. Of those, maybe only four or five will fully recover. The rest will likely be left with permanent disabilities."


    For the families of these men, they had raised their children for over a decade, only for them to suddenly leave this world. Even if it was just a pet cat or dog that died, it would still be heartbreaking, let alone a living, breathing person¡ªa relative with deep emotional ties.


    Of course, the situation wasn''t as unbearable as one might imagine. In most families of the Guars, there were often multiple children. Though losing one was certainly heartbreaking, it wasn''t entirely unmanageable.


    Julian paced back and forth a few steps and then said, "Everyone who attended today''s gathering... fifty dollars each." When he mentioned fifty dollars, the young men''s eyes practically lit up, and the girls glanced enviously at them. Julian pointed at them, "You all get fifty as well!" At that, the girls grinned from ear to ear, laughing foolishly.


    They were certainly saddened by the loss of their brothers, as well as those who were now facing permanent disabilities. But they were more pleased with their rewards. To put it bluntly, they were risking their lives for fortune. Their lives were cheap, but even a cheap life had its price.


    Fifty dollars was half a year''s wages for some people, and for these teenagers eager to prove themselves, it was no small sum.


    Julian wasn''t finished. He continued, "Those who were injured get an additional fifty, and the company will cover all medical expenses. For those left disabled, they get an extra hundred. Once they''re out of the hospital, they can work in the company, starting at twenty dollars a month, with annual raises."


    By this point, many were deeply moved. In society, those who were injured or disabled while working for gangs were usually given some easy job. The pay wasn''t great¡ªenough to keep them fed and clothed but not enough to save or plan for a future. After all, gangs operated illegal businesses and didn''t have many positions to support non-working members.

 Chapter 78: Chapter 78 Those Living At The Bottom Of Society

    But this was different. Twenty dollars a month, with yearly raises, meant that even if they were disabled, they wouldn''t have to worry about survival. They could save money, buy a house, or even start a small business in the future.


    Dave nodded quietly. This level of treatment was indeed very high, at least by Ternell''s standards.


    Julian took a deep breath, flicked his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, scattering a few sparks, and said, "As for the brothers who have already sacrificed themselves, each family will receive five hundred dollars, and the same twenty-dollar monthly allowance, with a two-dollar annual increase! No matter what, you are all my brothers and sisters!"


    "There''s no such thing as brothers and sisters sacrificing for me while I remain indifferent. Once you''re my family, you''ll always be my family. Today, they left us, but their parents are now my parents, and their siblings are now my siblings. As long as I, Julian, have fortune, they will never lack food or clothing!"


    "If one day, I fail to fulfill what I''ve promised today, any of you can come find me with a knife in hand, and I won''t resist!"


    As his resolute words echoed through the room, only the sound of heavy breathing remained.


    The atmosphere was thick with solemnity, as if frozen in place!


    The powerful words resonated deeply with the young people, moving them to their core. They stood there, already prepared for the dangers ahead. The poverty-stricken lives they led, the crushing burdens of their families, weighed heavily on these teenagers, barely giving them room to breathe.


    Yet, despite all of this, they still held on to their dreams of tomorrow, their hopes for a better future, and that is why they found themselves here.


    Given the choice, no one would willingly join a gang and live a life constantly teetering on the edge of danger.


    But they had no other choice. They could either become laborers at the very bottom of society, working long hours of backbreaking physical labor for barely enough wages to support their families. Eventually, they would marry someone equally uneducated, toiling in a job that, in the eyes of the wealthy, was considered degrading.


    They would live in dark, shabby slums and spend their days bickering over trivial matters, leading a grey, monotonous life.


    Or, they could risk their lives to fight for a brilliant future. Even though the road ahead might lead to failure, or they might be forever stuck where they started, at least they would have tried. They would have tried to seize their dreams and the future they longed for with their own hands. Even if it led to death, at least they would have embraced it.


    When that moment came, they wouldn''t regret it.


    Better to light a moment of brilliance than to waste away a lifetime!


    The heavy breathing of the boys revealed their stirred emotions. They wanted to shout, to cheer. Never before had they imagined that they were so close to their dreams¡ªso close they could almost reach out and hold their future and ideals in their hands.


    It wasn''t a dream, nor a deception. It was real, something tangible that made them feel the sun shining brightly and its warmth touching them.


    Julian''s promise erased their last hesitation completely. If their lives could be sold, then they''d gladly sell them to him!


    After a moment of silence, Julian turned to Dave and said, "Grab the guns and go find that bastard Graf. I hope he''s gone to Ternell city. But if he''s not there, come back immediately." Then, he pointed to one of the bloodstained young men he had interacted with several times before. "I remember your name is...Eirlys?"


    The boy named Eirlys stepped forward from the crowd, and many eyes turned to him. He was among the first to join the association. His father had died in the war, and the Empire had given their family 86 coins in compensation, with an additional 4 coins each month as a pension.


    But with two younger brothers, a sister, a sick mother, a grandmother, and a grandfather, the burden of survival was overwhelming.


    Before joining the association, Eirlys had worked at a hotel as a helper, earning only four cents an hour. He worked eleven hours a day but was only paid for six¡ªthe Empire''s laws clearly stated that child laborers under sixteen could not work more than four hours a day, and those under eighteen no more than six.


    He didn''t dare resist, knowing full well that if he lost his job, his family would have no means of survival. His meager wages could not cover even a few days without work. So, despite his reluctance, he numbly endured everything¡ªuntil his friends found him. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Eirlys was stronger than most boys his age, but he was shorter, likely due to working from a young age and the lack of proper nutrition. His heart pounded like a drum as he stood before Julian, so excited that he even forgot the pain from his wounds.


    Julian raised his hand, pointed at him, and opened his mouth. "From today onwards, you''re promoted to group leader!"


    Eirlys began trembling. This meant that his family and their bleak future had been completely transformed. He walked over to Julian, holding his hand with both of his own, and kissed it, tears spilling from his eyes as he repeatedly thanked Julian for this promotion.


    No one knew what he had endured over the past seven years.


    No one.


    Sometimes, he thought he might be better off dead, at least he wouldn''t have to live in constant despair. If it weren''t for his siblings, and the fear that his mother might collapse after losing him, he would have chosen the eternal release long ago.


    But today, everything changed because of a glance, because of a single sentence.


    He didn''t know how to thank Julian, how to show his gratitude, or how to convey the depth of his appreciation.

 Chapter 79: Chapter 79 Rules Of The System

    So, like a pilgrim kneeling before a bishop, he kissed Julian''s hand.


    It was the most respectful gesture he knew.


    "You take a few people and find Wood. Don''t act recklessly, and if you face danger, leave immediately," Julian said, looking at the boy who was so moved that he cried. He felt a bit emotional himself and patted Eirlys on the shoulder. "You''ve earned this. Out of everyone here, you''ve got the most wounds, so this promotion is yours!"


    Eirlys nodded fervently, wiping away his tears. "Don''t worry, I''ll find Wood, even if he''s hiding in the sewers!"


    Julian tossed him a cigarette and lit it for him. Eirlys had never smoked¡ªpoverty hadn''t allowed him to afford it. After taking one puff, he started coughing, making the other boys laugh, easing the tension in the room. Julian smiled, pocketed his lighter, and patted his shoulder again. "What are you waiting for? Go!"


    After Dave and Eirlys chose their team and left, there were only six boys and four girls remaining in the room. The boys stayed behind to handle any emergencies, while the girls were tasked with cleaning up the newly renovated but now wrecked space.


    Julian gave them some instructions before returning to his office. Sitting in the boss''s chair and looking out the window, he felt a bit uneasy.


    According to the plan, assassinating Wood''s right-hand man would infuriate him, making him lose his composure and come for Julian himself. Julian believed that Wood wouldn''t retaliate against Graf''s mother and brother, as doing so would make him appear weak¡ªa perception that could be fatal for someone like Wood. Even if he had the idea, anyone level-headed in his ranks would stop him.


    If your trusted ally gets killed, and you take it out on women and children?


    Can you still call yourself a "big shot"?


    The desire for revenge would force Wood to confront Julian directly, since he knew exactly where Julian was.


    Everything had gone as Julian expected, except he didn''t foresee Graf taking two boys and running off. It was clear to Julian that Graf had gone to save his mother and brother.


    Julian didn''t blame him. After all, they were his family and were in danger. It was the natural thing for a son to do. But by doing so, he had ruined today''s plan to deliver a fatal blow to Wood. If Graf had stayed, Robin wouldn''t have had the chance to get into the car. Though the boys were ruthless, they still lacked the strength of grown men.


    Whether Graf stopped Robin or Wood, the outcome would have been the same.


    Julian stared out the window at the misty clouds floating in the sky, his expression blank as he shook his head.


    ...


    Wood drove his car frantically, racing to the other side of the city.


    In Ternell city, a small place hidden from sight, there were strict rules and territories. The entire city''s underworld was controlled by two and a half gangs. It was called two and a half because one of the gangs was barely surviving. That half gang still existed thanks to the influence of the big shots shaping the layout of Ternell city.


    The mayor, the council members, and heads of various departments, they sat in the light, designing the rules for the city. Every "world" had to ensure a certain level of "competition," but also maintain stability as much as possible.


    Simply put, the big shots wanted the gangs and factions to hate each other, but at the same time, they needed to restrain themselves. Moreover, they ensured that no business or channel could ever be completely unified. These big shots understood well that if one gang or force unified the entire city, it wouldn''t be good for them.


    Once that happened, the unified force would gain the power to challenge them. They had no desire to see their position shaken, much less to become losers. So, they established the most favorable rules for themselves and played the game. Whenever a faction showed signs of overpowering the rest, they would support its enemies to strike back.


    The big shots carefully maintained the city''s balance. Maybe it wasn''t the best system, but for Ternell city, it was the most suitable one¡ªat least, for now.


    The underworld of Ternell city was divided into two large areas and one small one. The southwest part of the city and half of the central district were the turf of Tiger, leader of the "Flaming Skull" gang. His main businesses included smuggling contraband and running brothels disguised as community service centers.


    Occasionally, he dabbled in human trafficking, either buying girls from other regions or selling them abroad.


    Tiger was ruthless and extremely cold hearted, but he had one redeeming trait: he strictly adhered to the rules and never crossed the line. He was also very generous.


    Or perhaps it was better to say he loved to splurge.


    He treated his men fairly well, using money as a way to greet people. This drew around him a group of people willing to do anything for money.


    The other half of the central district and all of the eastern district belonged to Gador, leader of the "Lizardmen." He had around 200 men under his command, making him the most powerful and wealthiest in Ternell. People spoke of him as a very clever leader. Many believed that in the next five to ten years, he would rise from being a second rate gang leader to one of the city''s tycoons.


    He barely engaged in illegal activities. His income came primarily from running entertainment venues, such as bars, dance halls, and small theaters. He was smart, something everyone recognized when they spoke of him.


    Besides selling some bootleg liquor in the bars, arranging provocative dances in the dance halls, and putting on risqu¨¦ performances in the theaters, he hadn''t done anything else illegal. Of course, brawls and making certain people disappear didn''t count those were just gang activities.


    S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 80: Chapter 80 The Real Intent Behind Whitewashing

    Wood was very familiar with him. Through the bootleg liquor trade, Wood ran three different sized bars for Gador, which required large quantities of low cost, high profit bootleg alcohol. Wood could meet all of Gador''s needs for such liquor, so they were not only business partners but also friends.


    When things went wrong, Wood''s first thought was to find Gador. With their long standing relationship and a bit of money, Gador could easily take Julian out. At this moment, Wood was filled with regret. Ten years ago, he had been nearly identical to Gador one step away from becoming a tycoon, with a large group of various men under his command.


    Even the city''s biggest players would tip their hats to him in greeting.


    Then he had taken that step forward. To make himself more suitable for the image of a successful upper class man, he disbanded his gang and relocated many of his men. He opened his fine suits and presented himself as harmless to everyone, stepping into the halls of the elite.


    But now, he regretted it.


    In all these years, aside from money and a bit of minor fame, he hadn''t gained much else. Those real big shots had looked down on him before, and they still did. His fancy suits and slicked back hair hadn''t changed their opinion. Just because he stopped making people lose their most valuable possessions didn''t make them respect him.


    In this city, nothing had really changed for him those he couldn''t offend, he still couldn''t; and those who dared not offend him still wouldn''t.


    But he had lost the most important thing of all his axe, the symbol of his madness!


    It was at this moment that he suddenly realized the true intent behind the rules. When someone exceeded the limits, the rules would push them into another realm, forcing them to voluntarily disarm before they could become a real threat.


    Dazed, his car sped into Gador''s estate in the eastern district. A group of armed men rushed up to the stopped car, dragged Wood out, and pulled him inside.


    Gador stood on the second floor balcony of his manor, watching as Wood was hauled out. He frowned. Waving his hand, he ordered his men to bring Wood inside and called for a doctor. At the same time, he sent a team out to gather information.


    He wanted to know what had left "Wood the Axeman" in such a dire situation, fighting for his life.


    Before long, Julian''s information was laid out on his desk. To Gador, the city held few secrets. As the head of the most powerful gang in Ternell, he had access to plenty of resources.


    "Does anyone know anything about this association or this Julian guy?" Gador asked, leaning back on the sofa in the grand hall, his legs crossed, the polished tips of his shoes reflecting the soft glow of the chandelier above.


    Most of the people in the hall remained silent, including a few Guars. Gador''s gaze lingered on the Guars, but they stayed silent.


    The sight of a flayed corpse had reminded all the Guars of their traditions.


    Betrayers had to be judged.


    In the silence, Gador chuckled and shook his head. "I never expected there''d be something I didn''t know about. Wake Wood up and ask him what he plans to do." S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "After all, he''s an old friend of ours!"


    ...


    Every established gang has its own dedicated doctor. These doctors help gang members deal with issues that can''t easily be treated in hospitals. After all, with gangs ranging from twenty or thirty members to a couple hundred, there are always people falling ill or getting injured, making having a doctor almost a requirement for a fully formed gang.


    In Ternell city, the most common ailments were colds and fevers. The poor couldn''t afford the high quality filtered water from the waterworks and had to rely on well water for their daily hydration. Well water wasn''t exactly clean but also not completely dirty.


    The real problem was that many people didn''t bother to boil the water before drinking it, especially younger men who would drink straight from the pump without a second thought.


    So, fevers and colds were rampant.


    Under the care of the private doctor, Wood''s wounds were stitched up. Fortunately, he had been unconscious the entire time, feeling none of the pain. Otherwise, it would have been impossible to say how long it would have taken to finish stitching all the wounds.


    Ternell wasn''t without anesthetics, but their side effects were significant. The main ingredient in the anesthetic came from a mushroom that induced hallucinations. This mushroom, once widespread, caused some terrifying symptoms when eaten accidentally.


    The head knight of the Inquisition, a prominent figure in the Holy Church, once declared that the "These mushrooms" was a seed sown by the devil. Its use would gradually lead people to lose their sanity and embrace the devil''s influence.


    With the loss and dangers linked to These mushrooms, the Star Empire launched a large scale "eliminate the devil" campaign, where people uprooted the mushrooms and burned them in large fires. Both religious law and imperial law were revised to include strict bans on cultivating, consuming, or selling These mushrooms, with severe punishments for violators.


    Though these mushrooms seemed to have disappeared, the Empire''s scientific academy had never stopped researching them. Experiments found that in small doses, besides causing mild hallucinations, the mushrooms had a special property: they blocked pain. In simpler terms, they contained a substance that disrupted the transmission of pain signals between neurons, rendering even a broken bone painless.


    However, the use of these anesthetics was strictly regulated. It required an application from the lead surgeon and a metrologist, followed by approval from the "Sensitive Materials Committee." Fortunately, this process took only about thirty minutes.


    Like any structure built to weather storms, there were always leaks. Occasionally, anesthetics would slip through the cracks of this strict system. Gador, for instance, had two doses stashed away for emergencies. Clearly, Wood''s injuries didn''t qualify as such an emergency.

 Chapter 81: Chapter 81 Gador

    When Gador finally woke Wood, his body tensed, and his face turned as white as paper. The intense pain made him want to slam his head into the floor to knock himself out. After a few moments, his clenched jaw loosened slightly, though not because the pain had lessened, but because he had become somewhat accustomed to it.


    "How did you end up like this?" Gador leaned against the wall, playing with the latest windproof lighter from Aurordo, a smirk on his face as if enjoying the spectacle.


    Wood sat up, enduring the sharp pain in his body. Yet the physical pain was nothing compared to the torment in his mind. His eyebrows shot up, and through gritted teeth, he spat, "It''s all that bastard Julian''s doing. I underestimated him. Maybe I was his target all along¡­." He gasped as the movement strained his stitches, causing fresh blood to seep from the wound and bringing a new wave of pain.


    After a few deep breaths, he steadied himself and continued, "I want that bastard dead, right in front of me. I want him killed in the most brutal way possible. I don''t care about the details¡ªname your price!" Wood wisely didn''t try to leverage their friendship to get Gador to help him. He understood that the more ambitious someone was, the more they separated business from personal matters.


    This wasn''t personal, so he didn''t use that excuse. Instead, he let money do the talking¡ªthe most effective approach.


    Gador chuckled and asked, "How much do you think Julian is worth?"


    Wood had posed a difficult question to Gador, and now Gador returned the favor.


    This was a question with no easy answer. If Wood offered too little, Gador might refuse to help. And even if Wood raised the offer, it wouldn''t guarantee Gador''s assistance, as the issue was one of principle. If Gador helped Wood purely for the money, people would assume it was because of their relationship, not the cash.


    But if Gador rejected the first offer and later accepted after a price increase, people would think he only cared about money, willing to compromise his principles for the right price.


    Wood''s body tensed for a moment, then he wiped the sweat from his forehead and said in a low voice, "One no not one¡­ two hundred thousand!"


    Two hundred thousand wasn''t all of Wood''s savings. Over the years, he had earned several hundred thousand. Some of it had been squandered, and a portion had gone to grease palms. His savings in the Imperial Central Bank amounted to just over 1.1 million.


    Giving up nearly twenty percent of his wealth in one go to end Julian did sting, but he knew he had to do it. The failure today had already etched itself into the minds of certain people, who were likely sharpening their knives in the shadows, waiting to strike. He had to retaliate in the most ruthless way possible, forcing those plotting against him to think twice before daring to take him down.


    Two hundred thousand would be enough to get Gador''s full attention. What Wood needed now was time¡ªto deal with Julian as quickly as possible. Only then would he have a chance to survive in this city. Otherwise, he might end up taking his wealth, his family, and himself straight to hell.


    Gador nodded in satisfaction. "Given our friendship, helping you is the least I can do. You''ll hear good news from me soon."


    ...


    After a quick bandage job, Eirlys donned a high collared trench coat and a rounded felt hat, standing at a street corner in the Eastern District. Across the road stood a magnificent manor, its artistic landscaping exuding an air of high class sophistication, making it hard to believe this was the headquarters of a gang leader.


    It seemed more fitting for a tycoon or some influential figure rather than someone operating in the grey and black zones of society.


    The manor''s gate had been smashed, and a few men were busy fixing a bloodied car with a damaged front end. Even in its battered state, the car was clearly a luxury model, worth thousands. Its presence alone was enough to show that those who rode in it could afford to treat precious resources as mere consumables. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was similar to people who, despite financial constraints, splurge on expensive decorative items to prove their social standing. Whether useful or practical wasn''t the point¡ªwhat mattered was demonstrating that they could afford such luxuries.


    People often unknowingly strive to elevate their social class, even if it means tightening their belts.


    Young Eirlys wasn''t yet troubled by these societal pressures. His mind wasn''t "advanced" enough to grasp such complexities. His attention was focused entirely on the car¡ªit belonged to Wood.


    Ternell city had no traffic police, primarily due to its remote location and underdeveloped economy. Horse-drawn carriages outnumbered automobiles on the streets. Additionally, the city was so small, with a grid-patterned road system, that there was no real need to direct traffic. As a result, cars in Ternell city didn''t have license plates.


    It was said that Aurordo and other large cities had begun using license plates, but not here. There were two ways to tell who owned a car.


    First, by looking at the headlights, and second, by the insignia.


    Many "luxury" cars still used kerosene lamps to save costs¡ªthose old lamps with iron-wire frames, glass covers, and small flames inside. Wealthy car owners usually modified their vehicles upon purchase, fitting them with engine-driven gear systems that powered brighter lamps, a status symbol for every car owner.


    For those willing to spend 200 coins on headlights, it wasn''t a stretch to invest another 200 to customize the lampshades, giving them a unique design or personal significance.


    The second distinguishing feature was the insignia.


    With no license plates in Ternell, recognizing who was in a speeding car came down to identifying the headlights or insignia. Each person''s insignia was designed with symbols that reflected their characteristics or held special meaning. The mayor''s insignia was a pure silver angel with outstretched arms, while the councilman''s was a golden compass.


    Wood''s insignia was easy to spot¡ªan engraved gold stump.


    And that very car stood across the road from Eirlys. Sweat formed on his forehead¡ªpartly from the physical exhaustion of walking while injured and partly from the nervousness of being so close to the manor of Gador.


    Gador was a well known figure in Ternell city. Although he wasn''t infamous for evil deeds, people feared him. If Wood had hired Gador...


    Eirlys didn''t dare finish the thought. He instructed his companion to keep watch at the gate and hurried back to Queen Street. He had to report everything to Julian as soon as possible.

 Chapter 82: Chapter 82 Internal Conflict

    Meanwhile, Dave, along with three others, had entered Ternell''s renowned Wheat Blossom Garden. Normally, people like Dave wouldn''t be allowed in, but they arrived in one of Wood''s car, which the gatekeepers recognized, so they were granted entry.


    The car slowed to a stop about thirty meters from Wood''s villa. Through the windshield, Dave spotted two men in coats leaning against the villa wall, smoking. Inside the yard, which was surrounded by low shrubs and iron railings, three more men were chatting and laughing. On the second floor balcony, another man was pacing, his eyes sweeping over the entire villa.


    As for the inside of the villa, Dave didn''t have the powers of the priests¡ªhe couldn''t see through walls. But judging by the scene outside, Graf wasn''t there, which puzzled Dave. Given Graf''s muscle bound, thick headed nature, he should have been there. Unless...


    Unless Graf had figured out where his family was being held and had abandoned the plan to rescue them on his own?


    Where could that be?


    Dave wasn''t sure. Who knew where Wood had hidden them? He had done his best by coming here, but the rest wasn''t his concern. A peculiar tension had been brewing within the association, one that centered around Graf Willful nature.


    Especially now, after he had gone off on his own and ruined Julian''s carefully laid plans, people''s attitudes toward him were starting to shift.


    Dave felt it might be time to discuss the matter with Julian.


    Upon returning, Dave didn''t even have the chance to bring up the subject. As soon as he pushed open Julian''s office door, he saw Graf crouched on the floor, his clothes soaked in blood, head hanging low.


    Julian stood by the window.


    Hearing the door open, Julian glanced at Dave but said nothing. Dave, treading lightly, entered and closed the door behind him, standing silently in the corner.


    "Six people now."


    Julian''s voice was quiet, as though speaking casually, but Dave could sense the volcano simmering beneath his calm tone. He shrank back, lowering his head, not daring to make a sound. He suddenly felt an unfamiliar pressure emanating from Julian¡ªa force that weighed down on him, unlike anything he''d felt before.


    "Six people have died, Mr. Graf. Do you know what it feels like to see six people you once laughed and joked with, lying neatly together?" Julian chuckled bitterly. He rapped his knuckles on the desk, then pointed at Graf. "I find it absurd!"


    The bodies of the dead had already started to stiffen, their skin stretched tight around the hastily sewn wounds, with black blood marks trailing from the stitches. Up until the moment death claimed them, they likely couldn''t believe they were leaving this world. No matter how much the world had hurt them, there was always something worth clinging to.


    Yet, they were gone¡ªall because Graf had disrupted the plan and failed to kill Wood at the critical moment.


    The worst off was the boy who had grabbed Robin from behind and stabbed him. Julian vaguely recalled his name had something to do with "De." His right temple had been shattered, the bone around it crushed and caved in. That was the result of Robin''s last burst of life, a wrench that delivered a fatal blow. It didn''t have to end this way. If only Graf had been there.


    All assumptions hinged on the perfect execution of the plan. But there are always people¡ªor circumstances¡ªthat wreck even the best laid plans.


    Graf crouched on the ground, clutching his head in silence.


    Sure, his mother and brother had been rescued, just as Julian had said. When they struck at Wood''s men, Wood hadn''t harmed Graf''s family. A lion might devour its prey to intimidate the jackals, but if those jackals dared to provoke it before it fed, no matter how hungry the lion was, it would first kill them to maintain its dominance.


    This sequence was immutable, and the younger and stronger the lion, the more it valued its reputation.


    So yes, Graf had saved two people, but six had died. And the most important target had slipped away. That was the price. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As Julian''s accusations piled on, Graf could do nothing but endure the pain in silence, his head still buried in his hands. He knew he was at fault. There were no excuses that could absolve him, and that''s why people trusted him¡ªhe was someone who accepted responsibility.


    Most of the time, at least.


    The room was suffocatingly tense. Julian''s eyelids drooped slightly, his gaze piercing through the half-open slits like daggers at Graf. After a long moment, Julian sighed, walked back to his desk, and sat down. Crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knee, it was a simple posture, yet it conveyed something powerful. It was as if¡­he controlled everything.


    "Here''s what you''ll do, you''ll personally apologize to the families of each person who died, offer compensation, and console them. If they all forgive you, I''ll forgive you too. But that''s all it means. You''ve got enough in your Imperial Central Bank account to live the life you want."


    Julian shook his head gently. "You''re not like us, Graf. There are things you just can''t do. Don''t push yourself."


    Graf loosened his grip on his head, his bloodshot eyes glaring straight at Julian, filled with a murderous intensity as if he wanted to tear Julian apart. But Julian didn''t flinch. His gaze remained calm, unwavering.


    "You''re trying to push me out!" Graf slowly stood up. For a moment, his large frame seemed to exert a crushing pressure as he loomed over Julian. But Julian didn''t see himself as smaller or weaker than Graf. Maybe he wasn''t tall, but his spirit was immense, powerful, and unyielding.


    Julian shrugged, completely unsurprised, and nodded. "This isn''t about me, brother. It''s about you, understand?" He raised one hand, tapping the desk with his finger as he spoke, emphasizing each word. "You are the one with problems."


    Graf''s face twitched. "What problem do I have?"

 Chapter 83: Chapter 83 It’s Time For You To Leave

    "Drinking," Julian said, holding up one finger. Then he raised a second. "Staying out all night. I know where you''ve been, wasting your energy on cheap women and not coming back to supervise the work you were assigned."


    Julian lifted a third finger. "And finally, you don''t have the heart to follow orders. You wrecked our plan, and it cost six lives for your two family members, who were already safe. Let me guess, Graf¡ªthe people guarding your mother and brother, there weren''t more than three of them, and they probably didn''t even have a knife on them. Am I right?"


    Julian''s bold assumption made Graf freeze. He was right. His mother and brother had been kept in a villa on the outskirts. Other than being starved for a few days, they hadn''t been treated cruelly at all. Because at that time, Wood was still¡­a gentleman.


    Graf had rescued his mother and brother easily, without encountering any real trouble.


    Now, overwhelmed with guilt, Graf''s emotional state was raw. He had acted on his own, thinking his role wasn''t crucial, and it had resulted in the deaths of six young boys. His heart wasn''t bad, and now he hated himself more than ever. And now Julian was planning to push him out, adding to his confusion. Graf had built the association with his own hands and then made Julian its leader.


    He had personally recruited almost everyone in the association. The six bodies weighed even more heavily on him than on Julian because they had joined under his invitation.


    And now, Julian was telling him to enjoy a peaceful life and leave everything behind¡ªall because of his mistake.


    He hated himself. But he also hated Julian''s ruthlessness. It was just a matter of a few words, so why did it have to come to this? sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He was breathing heavily. Sitting across from him, Julian could even feel the air being pushed out of Graf''s nostrils circulating in the room. Graf stared at Julian, shaking his head, "No, I won''t leave. The association belongs to me as much as it belongs to you! I will never, ever leave!" His face was now just inches away from Julian''s, less than twenty centimeters apart.


    But those twenty centimeters were an insurmountable distance for Graf.


    Julian remained motionless, sitting as he was, without a change in his posture or expression.


    Dave, who had been standing off to the side with a cold look, now pressed the barrel of his pistol to Graf''s temple.


    Graf slowly turned his head, staring in disbelief at Dave, who was now pointing a gun at his head. His mind went blank, unable to process what was happening. He opened his mouth slightly, a gesture of shock, his eyes unfocused. After what felt like an eternity, he finally regained his senses and looked at Dave with an expression filled with disbelief and hurt.


    His voice, when he spoke, was tinged with bitterness, "Dave, you''re my friend. I was the one who introduced you to the association, and now¡­ you''re pointing a gun at me?" ?!§à§á¦Ó@?%§á!?-+¡Ò¦Ò§è*§Ô??-


    Dave and Graf were close, somewhere between friends and brothers. If they had spent a little more time together, perhaps helped each other out a couple more times, they might have crossed that line and become brothers. But from the moment Dave entered the association, their bond had always been just a bit short of that.


    Just that small missing piece¡ªif you measured it with your fingers, it would be as thin as a stack of ten-dollar bills.


    But now, at this moment, Dave was holding a gun to Graf''s head. Graf could feel the cold metal of the barrel pressing against his skin, and the faint warmth from Dave''s hand gripping the gun. The safety was off, the chamber loaded with a bullet, ready to fire at any moment.


    Just a month ago, Julian and Dave hadn''t even known each other. They could have passed each other on the street countless times without so much as a glance, let alone stopping to exchange words.


    It was Graf¡ªhe had introduced Julian to the Guars in Ternell city.


    It was Graf who had first proposed forming an organization to help Guars band together and support each other.


    Graf had played a critical role in everything, and yet now, his friend Dave was pointing a gun at him instead of at Julian. He couldn''t believe it¡ªhe didn''t want to believe it. Why was everyone turning against him at this moment?


    Dave stared at Graf with an expressionless face. He hadn''t wanted to speak, but he felt like he had to say something. He wasn''t just a regular member anymore¡ªhe was a group leader now, with some status and authority within the association. He also genuinely had things to say. If he didn''t speak now, he might never get another chance, and he knew he''d regret it if he stayed silent.


    "We are a team," Dave said, his first words cutting through the silence. Julian nodded slightly in approval. "Like the boss said, you can act as recklessly as you want when things are calm, and we''ll tolerate it. But when something big happens, and you still rely on your own personality and whims, it only harms all of us."


    "We''re a team, Graf, but you can''t fit into this team, and that''s why we have six brothers lying here dead."


    "And next time? How many more will there be? Five? Ten? Will it take me and the boss lying there before you finally understand?"


    Dave cracked a bitter smile. "Graf, we''re friends, and I know you. You can be a good man with a little bit of edge, but you can''t be a bad man. This isn''t your game, and it''s time for you to leave."


    Graf was, as Dave had said, a good man with a bit of roughness around the edges. He could be unreasonable at times, but he was also passionate and helpful¡ªmostly the latter. Anyone from the Guars community, no matter their age or gender, could come to him for help, and he would do his best to assist them.

 Chapter 84: Chapter 84 What Exactly Does The Upper Class Offer

    It was that trait that had once landed him in jail for helping someone. And it was that same quality that had moved a tycoon to pay for his release.


    He was trusted, he had a good heart¡ªand because of that, he wasn''t cut out to be a villain or commit evil deeds.


    Sure, he had killed for others, and he had rushed into dangerous situations before, but he had never been able to fully adapt to the violent world he was now part of. Instead of struggling painfully in this environment, it was better for him to return to a life where he could continue being that rough edged good man, rather than trying to be something he wasn''t.


    Graf wanted to argue, to say that he had been prepared for this all along, but no matter how hard he tried, the words wouldn''t come out.


    He couldn''t say it, because deep down, even if he thought he was ready, it was only his belief¡ªnot the truth.


    "Do you mean¡­" Graf''s voice was raspy as it scraped its way out of his throat, filled with a rough texture of emotion, "Do you mean I had to abandon my family to be truly prepared?"


    At that moment, Julian stepped in, "You''ve got it wrong, Graf." He lit a cigarette and gestured for Dave to lower the gun. Dave complied, stepping aside and leaning against the wall. Julian flicked his lighter a few times before the flame caught, igniting the cigarette. After taking a deep drag and exhaling slowly, he continued, "You didn''t abandon any family.


    From the day we all joined the association, we became family. Every one of us."


    Those words sent a shiver through Dave, and his gaze toward Graf grew more conflicted. Julian was right¡ªthe brothers and sisters in the association were all family. But in Graf''s eyes, his family was his mother and brother, not those six dead boys lying on the ground, who couldn''t even take another breath.


    Graf was momentarily stunned. "That''s not what I meant, I¡ª"


    Julian suddenly stood up. Even though he was shorter than Graf, in that moment, to Dave, it felt as if Julian towered over him¡ªso tall that he had to look up to see him.


    Whatever Graf had been about to say died in his throat. His lips moved, but no sound came out.


    With the cigarette still in his mouth, Julian walked around the desk and stood in front of Graf. His expression softened, and he smiled slightly. Then, to Graf''s surprise, he opened his arms and embraced him tightly, gently patting his back. "It''s time to go home. Go live the life you''ve always wanted. Even if you leave today, we''ll still be your friends, your brothers.


    "Once family, always family."


    Suddenly, Graf lowered his head, eyes closed tight. His eyes burned, and for some reason, he felt an overwhelming urge to cry. The last time he had felt this way was when his pet cat had been kicked to death by a passing horse. He didn''t think of himself as a weak person, but in this moment, he felt a vulnerability that didn''t seem right for him.


    He shook his shoulders, breaking free from Julian''s embrace, then turned and walked out the door.


    As Julian watched the empty doorway, he shook his head and returned to the window.


    Today, they had said goodbye to six brothers¡­and Graf. Who would they say goodbye to tomorrow? S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Through the glass, Julian watched Graf wiping his face as he marched away into the distance, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth.


    This path is too dangerous for a fool like you. Stay out of the way.


    When Eirlys entered the office, his clothes had a few patches of red seeping through. He had run all the way back, leaving his bicycle with his companions so they could use it to return quickly in case of any emergencies. He was slightly out of breath, his face pale, and as he pushed open the door, he felt the heavy atmosphere in the room.


    But he quickly shifted his focus to the message he had to deliver.


    "Wood¡­ went to see Gador!"


    That single sentence was enough to make Dave, who had been staring at the floor with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, look up. It also made Julian, who had been gazing out the window at the pedestrians and cars, turn around.


    Julian wasn''t as familiar with Ternell city as the other members of the association. His knowledge of the city was still superficial. But even so, he had heard the name Gador and knew some of his reputation.


    When people start praising a gang leader, it means that leader and his gang are about to undergo a transformation in terms of status and identity.


    Either they rise or they fall.


    Gador clearly belonged to the former category. Most of his businesses were now legitimate, though some of them likely still violated imperial or religious law. However, for him, these violations were minor. Once he fully legitimized his operations, he would cross a threshold that every gang leader in Ternell dreamt of crossing¡ªjoining the upper class.


    Everyone aspired to be part of the upper class, but what exactly did the upper class offer?


    Nothing, really.


    Even in the upper class, people still had to eat, drink, and earn money. They were still restrained by rules. Yet, everyone wanted to be part of it because it represented a shift in identity, in the people you associated with, and in the things you were exposed to. If you couldn''t cross that line, you would forever remain part of the lower class, constantly exploited and oppressed.


    The upper class was simply a platform, a ladder to even higher levels. Climbing this ladder often required shedding some burdens, but almost everyone was willing to do so for the chance to ascend.


    Gador was one such figure who had made a name for himself in Ternell city. Stories of his kindness, ruthlessness, integrity, and hypocrisy were widespread.

 Chapter 85: Chapter 85 Seeking A Higher Level Figure

    He was also the leader of Ternell''s largest gang, with hundreds of men under his command¡ªfar more than Wood, who had already washed his hands of the gang life.


    This was the biggest crisis Julian had ever faced. If he couldn''t find a way through it, his only option would be to flee.


    Yes, Gador was actively trying to go legitimate, but that didn''t mean he wouldn''t take action if necessary. What might be a minor incident for Gador could be a catastrophic blow for Julian.


    Julian rubbed his face and slapped his cheeks, turning to Dave. "Is there any chance we can take him out?"


    Dave''s face was grim as he shook his head. "Gador''s rise is practically a legend. He understands the rules very well, and a lot of powerful people like him because of that. Some of those big shots even rely on him to do things they can''t do themselves.


    "He''s also incredibly cautious. Whether at home or out in public, he always has plenty of men around him. In the past nine years, there have been at least thirty attempts on his life, and none of them succeeded. In fact, they only made him more careful."


    Julian nodded in agreement. That made sense. No matter how clean Gador''s hands were now, he had risen to power by stepping over the blood and bones of others. The number of people who hated him was beyond counting, and he would have to be extremely vigilant to protect himself.


    So, how could Julian get out of this mess? Killing Gador was out of the question, but perhaps he could at least convince him to stay neutral.


    Julian fell into deep thought. Seeing this, Dave and Eirlys quietly left the office, closing the door behind them.


    About twenty minutes later, the office door swung open again. Julian walked out, his expression calm but with a confident gleam in his eyes. Dave and Eirlys immediately stepped forward, looking at him expectantly.


    "I''ve got a plan," Julian said, nodding firmly.


    Julian''s plan was actually quite simple¡ªsatisfy Gador''s "conditions."


    If Gador was willing to help Wood without expecting anything in return, why hadn''t he intervened earlier? Julian suspected that the relationship between Wood and Gador wasn''t as solid as he had initially thought. Wood must have offered something to convince Gador to step in on his behalf.


    So, in reverse, if Gador could be swayed by something Wood offered, couldn''t he be swayed to change his stance by something else?


    Julian believed it was possible. From what little he knew about Gador, the man was ambitious and disciplined. His goal was to become one of the tycoons of Ternell, a rule-maker¡­ or at the very least, a rule-enforcer.


    What could be more important to Gador than a quicker path to the upper class, allowing him to cross that threshold that so many others had failed to cross?


    Nothing.


    Satisfy his "conditions," watch him transform, and then wait for him to make a mistake at which point Julian would deliver the final blow.


    But first, Julian needed to meet with a few key people those who could influence Gador''s decisions.


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    He instructed Eirlys to keep an eye on Gador and ordered all the boys from the association to return to their homes. Until this matter was resolved, none of them should show their faces in public. Julian didn''t want Gador taking his frustration out on any of them while they were still vulnerable.


    When Julian found Kevin, he was packing his bags.


    Not long ago, the city court had sent notice that an additional hearing would be held in three days. Apparently, the state court of Canless had pressured the local court to expedite the case, which had drawn nationwide attention, in order to minimize any further negative impact.


    As a result, the Ternell city court had moved the final trial from next weekend to Tuesday, just three days away.


    Upon hearing the news, Kevin had started packing his bags. He had already booked a steam train ticket to the capital and was ready to leave as soon as the final verdict was delivered, bringing his victory with him.


    The capital was where Kevin''s true stage awaited where he could fully showcase his talents!


    Julian stood outside the door, raised his hand, and knocked. The dull sound startled Kevin, who was packing his luggage. He straightened up, stretching his back and shaking his arms a few times before walking over to greet Julian into the room.


    Julian carefully stepped over the piles of documents, glancing at the scattered papers and some luggage on the floor, then flashed a bright smile. "Congratulations, Kevin, you''ve accomplished what you set out to do. That''s impressive!"


    Kevin happily accepted the compliment, patting Julian on the arm. He turned to fetch a cup of coffee and placed it on the corner of the table. "I just brewed it, the temperature should be just right. You know I don''t drink alcohol, so¡­" He shrugged. "What brings you here? If I''m not mistaken, those two big shots should be able to handle most of the issues in Ternell city, right?"


    Julian picked up the saucer, delicately holding the tiny cup handle with one hand, and brought the coffee to his nose for a sniff before taking a small sip. He pretended to swallow the coffee nonchalantly but quickly set the cup back down, unable to enjoy the strange taste. "Their influence isn''t enough.


    I want to establish a connection with higher level figures, like the mayor or the council members."


    Kevin curiously looked Julian up and down, blurting out, "What kind of trouble have you gotten into? Or have you inflated your ego so much that you think an unknown bootlegger like yourself can directly converse with someone at the mayor''s level?"


    "Sorry, I''m not mocking you, just stating the facts. They are unlikely to meet with you, and even if they do, they won''t form any friendship with you!"


    S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 86: Chapter 86 Delier

    Kevin wasn''t intentionally belittling Julian; it was just the reality. To such high-level figures, Julian was a nobody. Regardless of his achievements, until he became a tycoon in this city, he was nowhere near that level. Let alone establishing a relationship with giants like the mayor or council members.


    Julian didn''t shy away from the issue, revealing the truth directly. "Wood probably paid a price and brought Gador to deal with me. You know, while I have some people working for me, I''m far from matching someone like Gador, who has been dominating East City for so many years. I need someone at that level of power to exert pressure on Gador and force him to change his plans."


    Kevin put down the documents and luggage he was sorting and sat down across from Julian with an exaggerated, amused expression. "My God, you really aren''t afraid of death. Gador rarely engages in killing anymore; he''s been busy cleaning up his image."


    After teasing Julian, Kevin grew serious, thinking for a moment before speaking. "I can help you get in touch with the mayor''s¡­ wife. But as for how to leverage that to get to the mayor, I can''t help. You''ll have to figure that out yourself."


    Julian didn''t press Kevin to stay. He had discussed with Kevin earlier, hoping Kevin would stay and help, but Kevin had refused. His ambitions lay in the tempting allure of the big city, not this small town. Money alone wouldn''t convince Kevin to stay. Though Julian was disappointed, there was nothing he could do to keep this brilliant rising star, smart enough to alter legal outcomes, from leaving.


    The two had made what seemed like a childish promise: if one day Julian entered the heart of the Empire as a victor, Kevin would immediately quit all his jobs to serve him. Of course, Julian would have to offer a salary befitting his status.


    "The mayor''s wife is named Vivian, a classic Ordinian high-society woman. She has impeccable taste and style. Her favorite activities are organizing flower arrangements or tea parties with women of similar status."


    "Vivian was the key reason the mayor emerged from seven candidates to become the mayor of Ternell city. When it comes to her requests and suggestions, the mayor often chooses to support and approve them."


    "If you can win over that woman, any trouble you have will no longer be trouble!"


    Kevin rummaged through his cardholder for a while before pulling out a card and handing it to Julian. "This is the card of the curator of Delier Art Museum. Say Kevin referred you, and he''ll meet with you. As for the rest, I can''t do much more to help, as you know!"


    Julian accepted the card with sincere thanks, knowing that his relationship with Kevin ultimately hinged on the thousand dollars and the favor of helping Kevin take down Camille. The two could be considered friends, discussing some "deeper" topics, but their friendship hadn''t reached a point where Kevin would use his connections to solve Julian''s problems.


    Many say that big figures lack humanity, but it''s not that they lack compassion; rather, those saying this aren''t qualified enough for these big figures to show compassion. Until Julian proved himself equal to Kevin in status and power, deepening their friendship was just wishful thinking.


    After leaving Kevin''s place, Julian immediately headed to Delier Art Museum on 8th Street, holding the card.


    Although Ternell is a small city, it has all the essentials because, no matter how small, a city still has its big figures. How do you distinguish yourself from those who emit the stench of the ordinary? High art is clearly the simplest and most direct way! To cater to the city''s elites and legally extract money from their pockets, Delier Art Museum was born.


    Every Monday and Friday, the mayor''s wife, Vivian, hosts a salon party for elite women, usually centered around flower arranging or other trendy activities.


    This was Julian''s only chance!


    The curator of the Delier Art Museum, as his name suggests, was Delier himself¡ªa man with an unmistakable Ordinian arrogance. Even though he exuded a certain artistic aura, it couldn''t hide the disdain in his eyes when he looked at Julian.


    It was the kind of contempt a gentleman wearing polished boots in a grand hall might feel, looking down at a muddy-footed country boy leaving dirty footprints on the pristine floor.


    Delier was a very "artistic" man. He wore a shiny purple, androgynous suit with silver threads outlining the edges of the white collar¡ªprobably pure silver, judging by the way it gleamed under the light.


    His white crocodile-skin shoes set him apart from the rest; people generally preferred boots over shoes because, in a society where roads were still problematic, shoes made it far too easy for dirt to sneak in and soil one''s socks.


    His hair was slicked back like Wood''s, but it appeared softer, not stiff. Seven parts of his hair curled toward the right, while the remaining three parts were brushed back. His pale, thin face was even adorned with light makeup. If it weren''t for the "Mr." at the end of his name on the business card, Julian would have thought Delier was a rather masculine woman.


    Delier took Julian''s card and glanced at it. Like many artistic types, Delier''s business card had an artistic flair. His name was handwritten, and Julian had to consult someone just to recognize the flourished strokes as letters. Delier slipped the card into his pocket, crossing one arm over his chest while the other rested on it, holding a thin white cigarette between two fingers.


    "So, you''re friends with that scoundrel Kevin? Then you must be no good either," Delier said in a high-pitched voice, this time making no effort to hide the hint of revulsion in his gaze, as if Julian were not a person but a pile of trash. Delier and Kevin didn''t have the smoothest relationship. In fact, they had met when someone hired Kevin to sue the Delier Art Museum.


    It was during that case, which was settled out of court for a thousand dollars after Kevin''s persuasion, that the two got acquainted. read-on-MVLeMpYr sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 87: Chapter 87 A Brutal Approach

    Julian shrugged, indifferent to Delier''s sarcastic words. "He''s the devil, and we''re all friends with the devil!" His meaning was clear: if Kevin truly was a bad guy, then, by Delier''s logic, everyone associated with Kevin must also be bad. Therefore, Delier himself must be no better.


    Delier scoffed, turning his head to exhale a cloud of smoke, his gaze slanted at Julian. "My time is limited. State your business." this-chapter-is-MVLeMpYr


    At that moment, Julian noticed that Delier had even painted his nails¡ªpurple, no less. It seemed he was fond of the color. Julian refocused and lowered his voice. "I think we should discuss this in your office. I''ll offer you a price that''ll satisfy you."


    Delier''s eyes brightened slightly, hesitating for a moment before nodding. Clearly, money spoke louder than his distaste for what he disliked.


    The two entered Delier''s office, one behind the other. It was minimalist, yet undeniably artistic. Unlike the leather sofas used by other important figures, his sofas were fabric-covered, a style just starting to trend in the Empire. Many elites considered fabric sofas to be for the poor, so it hadn''t caught on widely.


    After all, if a trend wasn''t embraced by the mainstream, it wasn''t a trend; it was just alternative.


    Delier gracefully lowered himself into his round swivel chair, He sank into it, crossing his legs, took one last drag of his cigarette.


    "So, what do you want from me, and what are you willing to pay?"


    Direct¡ªJulian liked that. He walked to the desk, sat in a crooked wooden chair, and held up three fingers. "Get me in touch with Vivian as soon as possible, and I''ll pay you three thousand dollars."


    Three thousand dollars was no small amount. Even though Delier Art Museum was the only one in Ternell and catered to the town''s elite women, its monthly income was only about three to five hundred dollars¡ªsometimes even less. Three thousand was enough to cover half a year''s income, and Delier was tempted, but he quickly refused.


    "Sorry, I can''t help you. You can leave now," he said reluctantly, the words clearly paining him. That was three thousand dollars¡ªenough for a long stretch of indulgence. Watching that money slip away from his grasp nearly made his heart stop.


    Julian pressed on. "Five thousand dollars."


    Delier inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. His trembling eyelashes revealed the intense inner conflict he was going through, but soon he refused again.


    It wasn''t that Delier didn''t want the money; it was that the target of the deal was too tricky. The mayor''s wife, Vivian, wielded considerable influence in the social circles of the elite women. Not only was she the honorary president of the Star Empire Women''s Protection Association, but she was also the daughter of a former governor. Without knowing Julian''s intentions, Delier dared not reach out.


    If something went wrong, it wouldn''t just be Ternell that he''d have to leave; all of Star Empire, and perhaps even the entire South, would be off-limits to him!


    It wasn''t worth ruining his business for a sum of money, no matter how large.


    Julian sighed. "It''s a shame we couldn''t come to an agreement." He stood up and, under Delier''s watchful gaze, walked around the desk. Delier, sensing something amiss, opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat, unable to come out.


    Julian grabbed Delier by the neck with one hand and clenched his other hand into a fist, smashing it into Delier''s meticulously groomed face. The punch was full of strength. Although a sixteen or seventeen year old boy''s power and physique were far from that of an adult, given Delier''s frail frame, the damage from the punch was already significant.


    Blood immediately flowed from Delier''s swollen, painful nose, the hot metallic taste spreading along his lips. He stared at Julian in terror, struggling desperately.


    Without hesitation, Julian landed another punch, then another, and another!


    The only sounds in the office were the dull thuds of the punches, "thud," "thud," "thud."


    After delivering seven or eight punches, Delier''s eyes revealed a mix of pleading and fear. He stopped struggling, seemingly conceding. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian released his grip on Delier''s neck and shook his arm; after all, his fists hurt too. There wasn''t much flesh on Delier''s face, and the punches landed mostly on his cheekbones, making his own hands ache as well.


    Freed, Delier gasped for air, curling his entire body up like an egg, staring in terror at this rude, unreasonable, savage young man.


    "You can''t treat me like this!" Delier''s voice was slightly sharp, and the terrified, contorted expression on his face made any trace of his artistic flair disappear instantly.


    Julian raised an eyebrow and casually picked up an ivory carved miniature totem pole from Delier''s desk. With a forceful swing, he smashed it onto Delier''s arm. The sharp sound made both of them realize that between the arm and the ivory, one of them must have broken. Of course, it wasn''t the ivory; it was Delier''s arm.


    Delier''s scream barely lasted a second before Julian raised the ivory high again, abruptly cutting off the scream as if it were a high pitched note interrupted.


    "Mr. Delier, can we have a proper conversation now?" Julian asked, looking down at Delier, who was curled up, clutching his arm and sobbing as if he had been violated. His eyes were dangerous and fierce.


    Delier nodded with his lips tightly pressed together, tears and blood from his nose mixing and dripping onto the collar of his favorite clothes, forming alarming red stains.


    "Good, that''s very good!" Julian casually placed the ivory sculpture back where it was, adjusting it slightly to its original position. He straightened his clothes and appearance, then sat on the desk. "So now, can you tell me how I can quickly get in touch with Mrs. Vivian?" he asked, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket.


    After lighting it and taking a drag, he flicked the ash directly onto Delier.

 Chapter 88: Chapter 88 High Society Art Is Really Dirty

    Trembling, Delier responded in a quivering voice, "Mrs. Vivian has a passionate pursuit of all things beautiful..." He paused, unsure whether to speak the truth. Glancing nervously at Julian, whose eyes had turned fierce again, he shivered and decided to confess everything. His only hope now was that Julian had no serious intentions toward Mrs. Vivian; otherwise, his fate would be grim.


    "Mrs. Vivian has a peculiar preference... She likes young boys, not too young, around thirteen or fourteen years old, who are either handsome or pretty," Delier continued. Since he had already started speaking, he figured he might as well spill everything. After all, saying half the truth would lead to his death, and saying everything would lead to the same.


    He might as well try to survive the present and think about the future later.


    "Actually, many of the ladies enjoy these indulgences," Delier continued. "Their husbands often keep mistresses outside, and even if they come home, they rarely do anything intimate. I''m not sure if it''s out of revenge or some inherent habit among women, but quite a few ladies share this hobby."


    "I''ve told you everything. Will you let me go now?"


    Julian suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He glanced around. This place, which was supposed to be an art gallery full of artistic elegance, was secretly involved in such filthy business. The curator of this gallery was, astonishingly, a peculiar kind of pimp!


    But when he thought about it from a different perspective, it actually made sense. These high status ladies, deprived of attention and affection for long periods, were bound to harbor resentment. Some of them could endure it, but others simply couldn''t, especially women like Mrs. Vivian, who had her own influence and didn''t care about what her man thought or did.


    He had heard Kevin mention before that the mayor¡ªor was it a councilman?¡ªhad kept a restaurant owner as a mistress. He never expected to stumble upon this kind of sordid business here.


    What Julian didn''t know was that Delier hadn''t revealed the full truth. The so called flower arranging and tea parties were nothing more than wild orgies for these ladies, a hormonal frenzy set in the midst of this artistic sanctuary.


    As for the boys Delier scouted, they weren''t exactly victims. Besides receiving some special favors, they also made a considerable amount of money.


    Each party got what they wanted. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But this particular hobby of Mrs. Vivian''s made Julian scratch his head. If she had liked money, he could have provided it. If she liked certain things, he could have figured out a way to get them. But she was into young boys? What was he supposed to do, offer himself?


    In a split second, Julian thought of someone¡ªDave.


    That pretty boy, whose looks were almost feminine, would definitely be popular among these ladies. And for Dave, it wouldn''t even be a disadvantage.


    With that thought, Julian shifted from his seat on the desk. He approached the egg-shaped chair, where Delier still sat. Delier, thinking Julian was about to hit him again, quickly shielded his head, his body trembling. After a moment of silence, when no blows came, Delier hesitantly lowered his arms and chuckled nervously.


    Julian, with a calm demeanor, extended his hand and straightened Delier''s collar, even brushing off the ash that had fallen on him. "Look, I''ve learned some secrets I probably shouldn''t know. If you don''t want people to find you floating in the Agate River one day, you''d better keep your mouth shut."


    MVLeMpYr-unofficial-text


    Delier nodded blankly.


    "I remember. Two days from now, Mrs. Vivian will be coming for art appreciation!"


    Satisfied, Julian nodded back. He pulled out a roll of ten-dollar bills from his pocket, casually counted ten of them, and tucked them into his pocket. The rest he threw toward Delier.


    The unbound bills turned into a flurry of paper, spinning and swirling as they slowly floated down.


    As Julian walked away, Delier, staring at the shower of bills, felt like he''d just been humiliated and then patted on the back.


    When Julian returned to the temporary hideout, Dave immediately approached him. He knew that Julian had gone out to deal with the threat posed by Gador, and he was nervous. The current state of their organization, the Brotherhood, was far weaker in both size and power compared to Gador.


    Gador was different from Wood. Wood had "cleaned up" his image. This so-called cleaning up wasn''t just about erasing past misdeeds from public knowledge; it also involved cutting away any remnants of unsavory activities, like his hired thugs, weapons, and illegal operations. He was like a tiger whose claws and teeth had been removed, locked inside a cage with a label outside that read "Tycoon."


    On the surface, Wood seemed incredibly imposing¡ªeveryone knew him as the tycoon Wood. But the reality of his situation was something only he fully understood. To maintain his dignity and status, he could no longer do anything that would tarnish his reputation.


    He couldn''t keep an army of thugs, couldn''t engage in illegal business ventures, and couldn''t resort to violence at the slightest provocation like before. No matter what issue arose, he had to abide by the rules of the game.


    So when it came to dealing with Wood, Julian had no hesitation.


    He was up against a tiger that had forgotten how to tear apart its prey with claws and teeth. He may have once been a dominant figure in the jungle, but now, Wood was nothing more than a gentleman, bound by the rules set by the powerful, incapable of putting up a real fight.


    Gador, on the other hand, wasn''t yet constrained by these rules. While he followed them, he hadn''t risen to the ranks of high society just yet. He was merely a dirty gang leader. Until he crossed that threshold, whatever he did was acceptable in the eyes of the public. After all, wasn''t he just a gang leader acting according to his role?

 Chapter 89: Chapter 89 You Have To Make Sacrifices

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    This was why dealing with Gador seemed more troublesome for both Julian and Dave. A single mistake, and the newly formed Fellowship might have to leave Ternell and start over in another city, fighting to survive. If they could avoid it, who would want to be driven away and forced into exile?


    If possible, wouldn''t everyone prefer to leave with glory and move to a bigger stage to pursue their ambitions.


    "So, any solutions?" Dave asked as he handed Julian an open bottle of fruit wine. Julian waved it off; he didn''t drink alcohol unless it was necessary.


    After hanging his coat on the rack, Julian sat heavily on a sagging sofa in the dimly lit room, which had yellowed walls and dried water stains on the ceiling. The room had been temporarily rented through a third party. As he sat, Julian felt the wooden frame of the sofa press against him, nearly causing him to wince in pain.


    He stood up, kicked the sofa in frustration, then paced a few steps before turning to look at the anxious Dave.


    "There''s a way to get close to the mayor''s wife, Mrs. Vivian. From what I''ve gathered, the mayor keeps a mistress outside, but he still respects his wife''s opinion. This gives us an opportunity. If Mrs. Vivian says a few words, it will be more effective than us doing anything out there.


    It is not easy to get close to Mrs. Vivian, and it may require you to make sacrifices..."


    Before Julian could finish, Dave raised his hand to stop him. He took a swig from the wine bottle and took a deep drag of his half smoked cigarette, his eyes slightly reddened as he stared at Julian. "I don''t know where my father is¡ªmaybe he died on the battlefield, or maybe he faked his death and ran off. My mother raised us, her children, on her own. It hasn''t been easy for her all these years..."


    "Tell them I love them." sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Now tell me, what do you need me to do? Do I need to assassinate someone, or do something else?"


    Julian stared at the overly emotional Dave for a moment, then burst into laughter, so much so that his stomach began to hurt. Dave, confused and uncertain whether he had said something wrong, stared blankly at Julian.


    It took Julian a while to stop laughing, but when he saw the silly expression on Dave''s face, he couldn''t help but chuckle again.


    "Actually... it''s not what you think!" Julian explained, realizing he had spoken too quickly earlier. In their language, the word "sacrifice" and "death" could often be confused without proper context. Dave had thought he''d have to give his life to win over Mrs. Vivian.


    Once Julian finished explaining, Dave laughed as well, rolling his eyes after a moment, and took another swig from the bottle. "You scared me! I thought I was headed to meet the Almighty. Next time, could you please choose your words more carefully?"


    Julian shrugged. "My bad, I admit my mistake. But... you''ll still need to ''sacrifice'' a bit."


    "I feel much better now!" Dave said, rubbing his face. "At least it doesn''t involve dying."


    Julian then laid out the plan, and Dave''s face turned pale. He realized that the "sacrifice" really was a sacrifice¡ªhe''d have to charm a forty something year old woman. His facial muscles stiffened. "Can''t we... find someone else?"


    Julian asked, "Do you really think anyone among us is more handsome or charming than you?" He spread his hands, answering his own question, "Nope. So, in the end, I have no choice but to give you this important mission. Plus, it''s not such a bad deal. You get to enjoy a little adventure with a high society lady, no consequences. Don''t you find it exciting? Just imagine...


    you and the mayor could become relative. Think about how impressive that sounds."


    "If you think that saying all this will make me feel any better, your plan has failed!" Dave lit another cigarette, took a deep drag, and brooded. Julian didn''t interrupt his thoughts. After a moment, Dave suddenly flicked the cigarette to the ground and said, "Fine, I agree. Damn it, I hate you and your plan, but I''ve agreed!"


    ...


    Mrs. Vivian began preparing herself early in the morning, standing in front of the mirror as she tried on one outfit after another. Her servants held up over thirty new dresses for her to choose from, their eyes flickering with envy and jealousy.


    People, in the end, are not the same.


    All women, yet some could afford to choose from countless outfits, perhaps never even wearing them, before packing them away in storage as if they were never bought. Others, however, had to hold clothes that might take them years to afford and could hardly ever dream of wearing them, even once.


    So when it comes to people, it''s not about equality. The only thing equal is the chance of being born, not the status, wealth, or identity one is born into.


    "This will do. I''ll go with this one," Mrs. Vivian finally declared, satisfied with how she looked in the mirror. Though she was already forty one years old, she took excellent care of herself. The privileged life she led allowed her to use things most people couldn''t even imagine to preserve her youth.


    At first glance, she appeared to be in her early thirties, with smooth, firm skin that showed no sign of aging. Her mature charm, combined with a floral dress, made her look young enough that it wouldn''t be hard to believe if someone guessed she was even younger.


    Taking a cream colored sun hat adorned with red trimmings from one of the servants, she grabbed a small designer purse crafted by a master artisan and stepped out. She didn''t need to inform anyone where she was going; her husband was either at city hall handling his many responsibilities or indulging himself in the bed of some other woman. But she didn''t care about that.

 Chapter 90: Chapter 90 I Got Hit By A Pig

    Her father had been a governor¡ªa former governor. Growing up in such a prestigious family, she had access to things others couldn''t even dream of, but she had also seen things they could never imagine. Like her father, for instance. Many believed his frail health in old age was the result of war and years of political battles.


    He had collapsed one night, suddenly unable to walk, and when the doctors arrived, they confirmed he would never stand or walk independently again.


    She knew, however, that the real reason was his reckless behavior with younger women, even into his sixties. He had lived indulgently and suffered the consequences. Because of this, she turned a blind eye to such matters, having grown used to them, perhaps even accepting them.


    Her mayor husband had his own entertainment, and she had hers¡ªlike visiting Delier''s Art Gallery.


    Just as many old men enjoyed the company of younger women, Mrs. Vivian liked young boys, even those who could still be considered adolescents. She enjoyed their youthful energy and innocence, and while this might be considered morally questionable, it didn''t cross any legal boundaries.


    Delier had sent word that he had a special "gift" for her, which made her quite happy. She felt her investments in these "art pieces" over the years had been worth it. As she left her estate and approached the car sent to pick her up, she froze for a moment when she saw the driver.


    Standing beside the car was a strikingly handsome young man in a black and red checkered coat, wearing a gray newsboy cap. Despite his simple, old-fashioned attire, his near-perfect appearance was impossible to conceal.


    "What''s your name? I''ve never seen you before," Mrs. Vivian asked, placing her hand on his as she eased herself into the backseat of the car. Her eyes, full of a burning intensity, locked onto the boy''s blue ones.


    The young driver removed his cap, revealing his well groomed hair. Though it wasn''t slick with oil, it was clean and soft. Mrs. Vivian could even smell the unique, masculine scent wafting from him¡ªa scent that could be described as either "well-worn" or the fresh fragrance of a young man just reaching maturity.


    Blushing slightly under Mrs. Vivian''s predatory gaze, Dave silently cursed Julian several times in his heart before responding in a low voice, "My name is Jon, madam."


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    "Jon?" Mrs. Vivian repeated, savoring the sound of his name, then flashed the sweetest smile she had ever mustered. "Are you an Ordinian? But your hair color... I''m sorry, I''m being too forward."


    Dave shrugged, smiling with the youthful energy she seemed to crave. "No worries. I''m mixed. A lot of people say that. I''m used to it."


    Still lightly brushing Dave''s taut and smooth skin on the back of his hand with her fingertips, Mrs. Vivian chuckled gleefully. "Alright then, my apologies. So, are you my driver for today?"


    "Yes, ma''am. The previous driver fell ill, and I''m his nephew, here to fill in," Dave said as he gently nudged her further into the car, eager to escape the awkwardness of being flirted with by an older woman in public.


    Mrs. Vivian finally released his hand, chuckling with a hint of regret, but she quickly perked up. She now knew what Delier''s "special gift" was. A boy like this, she thought, could keep her entertained for at least three years, as long as his appearance didn''t change too much as he matured. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Feeling generous, she decided she''d invest in a few more "art pieces" as a reward for Delier''s thoughtful gesture.


    After closing the door, Dave shuddered slightly before climbing into the driver''s seat, driving the car toward Delier''s Art Gallery.


    The entire ride, Mrs. Vivian remained completely silent, a far cry from her previous impatient demeanor. But the quieter she was, the more nervous Dave became. His heart raced as he silently prayed to the Almighty for his "fate."


    It was a forty-minute drive to Delier''s estate. After what felt like an eternity, the car finally stopped in front of the gallery.


    Dave circled around to open the door for Mrs. Vivian and helped her out. Delier, who had been waiting outside, immediately rushed over.


    "What happened to your face?" Mrs. Vivian asked, noticing Delier''s bruised and swollen face, her expression full of curiosity.


    Delier paused for a moment before laughing awkwardly, "I got hit by a pig!" Dave gave him a side glance, and Delier quickly corrected himself. "Actually, I was robbed. Those brutes were really rough and uncivilized."


    Mrs. Vivian smiled as she sized him up. "I''ll communicate with Director Pronto. Do you still remember what those people looked like yesterday?" Mrs. Vivian felt reassured by Delier. She knew that when someone learned things beyond their social standing, they either submitted fully or had no choice but to run for their lives.


    She wasn''t afraid of Delier revealing certain things. The fact that she dared to do such things meant that exposing them wouldn''t affect her much.


    Furthermore, Delier had been diligently scouting for people for her and other noble ladies, so Mrs. Vivian had grown more attentive. This time it was just a robbery, but what if they had drawn a knife or harmed him in some way? What would they do next time?


    Delier eagerly nodded and said, "I sketched their portraits. I''ll never forget those faces. The money doesn''t matter, but they shouldn''t have damaged my handsome face!"


    Mrs. Vivian only chuckled at his words. Handsome?


    "I am very satisfied with the big gift you gave me. When I leave, hand over the portraits, and I''ll take care of it." As she spoke, she lightly brushed off the nonexistent dust from Delier''s shoulder. "You''ve done so much for me. I can''t let you suffer, right? Sometimes these things can trip us up."


    Dave hesitated slightly before supporting Mrs. Vivian as they entered Delier''s art gallery.


    Watching the two disappear down the corridor toward the viewing room, Delier suddenly shivered.

 Chapter 91: Chapter 91 No human Could Possibly Look Like That

    Last night, someone just like him was indeed robbed. Anyone seeing someone standing under the streetlight at the alleyway''s entrance, counting a thick wad of cash, would be tempted by the thought, "How great it would be if that money were mine." Some people, constrained by their moral compass and the law''s threat, would keep such thoughts to themselves and pass by quietly.


    But others, accustomed to ignoring the law''s deterrents, would turn those thoughts into reality.


    Thus, a stylish individual in a purple unisex suit was dragged into the alley by several thugs, who gave him a not so friendly "greeting" and took the money that didn''t belong to them.


    For these people, this was probably a trivial matter. They had already memorized the names of those they couldn''t offend, people they''d never forget for the rest of their lives. Obviously, the guy counting cash wasn''t one of those people, so they felt no pressure.


    The few hundred dollars in cash would allow them to live comfortably in Ternell City for at least a month. However, they didn''t realize their actions would have consequences for their boss''s boss. Their social standing was too low to fully grasp the ramifications, so they couldn''t be completely blamed. this-chapter-is-MVLeMpYr


    At first, Julian''s plan was to use Mrs. Vivian to make a connection with the mayor, but he quickly realized how wrong that was¡ªespecially using Mrs. Vivian. Their social status and needs were far beyond anything Julian could offer.


    Though Mrs. Vivian liked to have friendly interactions with younger men, Julian believed that if asked to do anything beyond that, she would refuse. The reason was simple: she was merely a "consumer." Consumers never concern themselves with the struggles of the manufacturers behind the products they use.


    All they cared about was whether they were satisfied with the product; everything else was irrelevant to them.


    So Julian changed his plan. If he couldn''t push Gador to cross that threshold and turn from a gang leader into a tycoon of Ternell City, then he would send him to hell instead! Julian shared this idea with Dave, who agreed but had a question.


    Since the plan had changed, did that mean he wouldn''t have to act anymore?


    Julian cruelly informed him of the harsh truth: because the plan had changed, Dave would not only need to "sacrifice" himself, but he would have to sacrifice with great effort. Only by doing this and completely satisfying Mrs. Vivian with Delier''s "gift" would she feel a "guilt" over Delier''s injury. This emotion would drive her to act more effectively than money or anything else.


    Without needing anyone to remind her, Mrs. Vivian would take action on her own, as long as she remained happy.


    Standing in the alley across from Delier''s art gallery, Julian saw the melancholy in Dave''s retreating figure and suppressed a laugh, rubbing his face. Whether the plan would succeed depended on how well Dave performed.


    A person who truly sacrifices will always give their best, right?


    As evening approached, Julian shook off his coat. The weather was growing colder. He stomped his feet and bought a smoked meat sandwich from a nearby food cart. As he bit into it, he watched the entrance of Delier''s art gallery.


    About ten minutes later, Mrs. Vivian emerged, her face glowing. She walked with much more vigor than when she had entered, her lips curved in satisfaction. A bruised and battered Delier followed closely behind her. Julian didn''t see Dave. Delier said a few things while bowing and nodding, then personally escorted Mrs. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Vivian to her car. After watching the car disappear down the street, Delier wiped nonexistent sweat from his forehead and vigorously shook his arms.


    Julian quickly swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and ran across the street. "How did it go?"


    Delier nodded. "I think there''s no problem."


    "Where''s Jon?" Julian couldn''t help but chuckle as he mentioned the name. Dave had even adopted a stage name¡­ how amusing!


    Delier''s expression was strange, constantly sending Julian the wrong signal, as if¡­ something was off.


    "He''s probably resting. After all, he''s a teenager, and his physical condition is something to be envied." Delier''s statement was clearly incomplete, leaving a hint of suggestiveness hanging in the air.


    Carrying the three portraits, Mrs. Vivian didn''t go straight home but headed to the Ternell City Police Department. There, she found Pronto, who had already changed out of his uniform and was preparing to head home. Arrogantly, she placed the three portraits on his desk, not even bothering to look at him directly. She had the confidence and power to act that way.


    Even though Pronto was the chief of police in Ternell City, he wouldn''t dare hold any grudges against her.


    After all, aside from being the mayor''s wife, Mrs. Vivian was the daughter of the former governor. She had deep connections and influence throughout the Star Empire, far beyond what a local police chief like Pronto could challenge!


    "Find these three people and arrest them. Handle it however you see fit."


    Mrs. Vivian quickly left the Ternell City Police Department; she disliked the place, feeling it was filled with "filth."


    It wasn''t that anything here made her feel repulsed, nor would anyone dare to act indecently toward her. For her, "filth" referred to things that were inferior, vulgar, ugly, or dirty¡ªa collection of negative descriptors. She was like a pristine piece of holy silverware, clean and pure, while this place was filled with the foul and detestable.


    Watching Mrs. Vivian''s car drive away, Pronto collapsed into his chair, utterly dejected. It was the end of the day, and just a minute ago, he had been humming a tune, ready to change into casual clothes and relax at a bar. But now, he could barely stop himself from cursing.


    Damn it! Sure, Ternell City was small, but it wasn''t so small that it only had three or fifty people. This was a city, not a kindergarten! Who the hell knew who the guys in the three portraits were or where they lived? And those distorted lines¡­ Pronto couldn''t even find the words. If someone really looked like that, they had to be the devil''s spawn.


    No human could possibly look like that.

 Chapter 92: Chapter 92 Finding The Attackers

    If someone else had given him this task, he might have been able to brush it off. After all, he was the chief. It was normal to delegate such requests to his subordinates, and by the time the person came back, he could have one of his least favorite officers take the blame. Problem solved¡ªeveryone would understand that he was powerless to help.


    If they still pushed him, it would be clear they were picking a fight.


    But Mrs. Vivian was different. Neither her husband nor her own power and influence were things Pronto could dismiss. He was certain that if he didn''t find these three people soon, he''d be in serious trouble. Trouble, after all, meant losses.


    It could mean a loss of money, his badge, or something even more important.


    As Pronto called over two officers, sharing his frustration, Shaun, who had just woken up, came down from the second floor yawning. He rubbed his eyes, wiping away the remnants of sleep from the corners.


    That nap had been fantastic! There was nothing like falling asleep in the sunlight. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As he was about to leave the station, the light from the office caught his attention. He hesitated for about half a second. His original plan was to find a bar and spend the night with a fun, carefree girl, then return for a lazy sleep.


    But after that half-second of hesitation¡ªwhether due to a pang of conscience or just curiosity¡ªhe walked toward the police chief''s office, which should have been closed by now.


    When he opened the door, the corner of his mouth twitched. Pronto and two middle aged officers he vaguely recognized but couldn''t name were staring at the portraits on the desk, their eyes bloodshot. There was a pile of cigarette butts on the floor, still smoldering.


    "What''s this? A masterpiece?" His curiosity grew stronger, and he couldn''t help but speak up as he walked over, positioning himself between the three men and the portraits. After a close look, he stuck out his pinky and cleaned his ear with its narrow, sharp nail. "Did you hire a new artist? If I were you, I''d fire him right away.


    If it weren''t for the three moles, I wouldn''t even know these are supposed to be humans!"


    The next second, Shaun felt as though he had grown two inches taller, as Pronto grabbed him by the collar and shook him vigorously. "Let me down! We can talk this out! I only stole a few bottles of your liquor, no need to be this harsh!"


    Pronto paused, glancing instinctively toward his liquor cabinet. The cabinet, designed like an X-shaped fence, held 32 bottles of expensive liquor gifted to him. Or at least it had¡ªhe counted and found only 11 remaining.


    Why hadn''t he noticed before?


    That damn thief!


    MVLeMpYr-com-story


    Just as Pronto was about to act, his hands loosened, and he grabbed one of the portraits, shoving it in Shaun''s face. The portrait depicted a man with three wild strawberry-like marks on his face. "You know this guy?"


    "Relax, man. I was just making a comment. You want answers? I''ll tell you everything. Want to know the color of my underwear?" Shaun raised his hands in surrender, a forced smile on his face as the barrel of Pronto''s gun pressed against his chin. "Oh, you mean this guy?


    Of course, I know him. He''s one of Gador''s men¡ªname''s Corder. He''s been with the gang for eleven years and has been charged six times. Four of those times, he was released due to lack of evidence, and the other two were settled out of court. His file is in the ''Gador Crime Syndicate'' cabinet, first drawer, document number 33!"


    Pronto and the two officers stared at each other in disbelief. Was it really necessary to say all this just because a gun was pointed at him?


    Pronto holstered his gun, tilting his head, and one of the officers ran off to the archives. Pronto pointed to the liquor cabinet. "You can have all of it."


    Shaun''s expression went from annoyed to ecstatic in an instant. He threw his arm around Pronto''s shoulder, giving him a hearty pat on the back. "Good man! Since you''re so generous, I''ll let bygones be bygones."


    With a swagger, Shaun left the office. If Pronto hadn''t known his background, he might''ve thought Shaun was a gang member fresh out of jail.


    Soon, the officer returned with Corder''s file, revealing a bald man with a fierce expression in the photo.


    Comparing the photo to Mrs. Vivian''s portrait, Pronto''s lips twitched. Even if the real person stood next to the portrait, it''d be impossible to link the two.


    He slammed the desk in frustration. "Tell the officers on duty to find this guy immediately. And prepare a car¡ªI''m going to see Gador!"


    A police car, adorned with the city''s badge, slowly drove into Gador''s estate. Gador stepped out of the house to greet them. He hadn''t yet become a tycoon, but even if he had, he would still need to show Pronto a certain level of respect. After all, the messes he left behind could never be fully cleaned up.


    If Pronto decided to cause trouble for him, regardless of his future status, it would be extremely inconvenient.


    People generally disliked trouble, but they often showed respect to those who could create it.


    Gador, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a sharp suit, looked no different from the city''s high society tycoons. Since yesterday, he had started using hair wax, perhaps influenced by Wood. Regardless of whether he could eventually cross that threshold into high society, he felt he needed to show respect for the rules and was mentally preparing himself.


    As Pronto stepped out of the car, Gador''s smile blossomed instantly. He hurried down the stairs with both hands outstretched. His shirt cuffs, perfectly clean and stark white, peeked out an inch from his suit sleeves, almost blinding in their brightness. Gador warmly clasped Pronto''s chubby hands and gave them a firm shake. He wanted Pronto to feel the warmth in his palms¡ªthe warmth of enthusiasm.

 Chapter 93: Chapter 93 Gador And High Class Etiquette

    "What brings you here today?" Gador asked, releasing his grip and motioning with his hand, inviting Pronto inside. He stepped aside, leading Pronto toward the house. This was something he had learned in etiquette class, for which he had spent a considerable sum to hire a retired royal etiquette master to teach him the daily courtesies of high society.


    This also made him realize that continuing down his current path was utterly meaningless.


    Three hundred bucks for a thirty minute lesson. You could say it was expensive, or you could choose not to learn, but plenty of people wanted to learn, and Gador had to pull some strings with a big boss just to secure the etiquette master. The more Gador was exposed to the things of high society, the more he felt his own insignificance.


    For Gador, this was a good thing because it allowed him to finally understand that he wasn''t as grand as he thought. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As Gador led the way into the house, Pronto wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, giving Gador a sideways glance before letting out a cold chuckle without answering his question.


    That cold laugh sent a shiver down Gador''s spine. His smile froze momentarily, but he recovered quickly and smoothly, not asking any more questions. He continued to lead Pronto into his study.


    The study was opulent, with a thick camel-hair carpet underfoot that felt like walking on butter, sinking slightly with each step. Gold and red wallpaper adorned the walls, giving the room a grand, palace like atmosphere, complemented by luxurious light fixtures and ornate decor.


    Pronto made his way to the desk and plopped himself down in the fully enclosed chair, letting out a contented sigh. He beckoned with his finger, and the older police officer following them handed him a file folder. Pronto slammed it onto the desk with a scowl.


    Gador, suspicious and uneasy, picked up the folder and extracted a document. His pupils instantly contracted. Keeping his composure, he placed the file about Corder back on the desk, furrowing his brows slightly. "I don''t quite understand, Chief. If you''re here because of those past slanders and accusations, I think it''s unnecessary.


    The city court has already rendered its final verdict, and according to the Imperial law, once a final ruling is made... in short, there can be no further pursuit of a closed case."


    Indeed, Imperial law stated that any charge could only be judged once, and after the final ruling, even a wrongful conviction would be considered "resolved" and could not be pursued again. The old nobility had crafted this law to protect their own interests, and now criminals were also exploiting it.


    Although Gador was a gang leader, that didn''t mean he was uneducated. He read books, and out of the 397 books on the shelves behind Pronto, there were only a mere six that he hadn''t... carefully perused yet. The rest, he hadn''t had the chance to finish. But those six books all dealt with divine and imperial law.


    He remembered his boss once told him, "A smart butcher not only knows how to slaughter pigs, but also how to sharpen the knife."


    So, whenever he needed to sleep, he would pull out one of those books, read three to five pages, and then drift into slumber.


    From reading so many books, he had retained a bit of knowledge. This particular law stuck with him because he often needed to rely on it.


    Pronto looked at Gador, who met his gaze without fear.


    Gador wanted to project an air of openness. His etiquette teacher had told him that when making a controversial choice, meeting someone''s eyes with a calm gaze would convey sincerity and honesty.


    But to Pronto, it seemed like Gador was deliberately provoking him.


    Pronto chuckled coldly again as he stood up from the chair, dusting off his pants with the brim of his police cap. "Well, if that''s the case, then I have nothing more to say. Goodbye!"


    Why didn''t it work?!


    Gador could no longer worry about etiquette. He knew full well that for a police chief like Pronto to disregard public opinion and come here personally, something serious must have happened. Letting Pronto leave now, what if something went wrong later? Who would he cry to then? With a flattering smile, he grabbed Pronto and pressed him back into the chair.


    He quickly retrieved a pack of "Le Tu" from his desk.


    "Le Tu" was a kind of drugs that could soothe intense emotions and induce a subtle sense of happiness.


    It had once been a specialty of the Mexican Empire, and after the Mexican was conquered by the Star Empire, it became a prized product of the Empire. The main production area was in the southeastern part of the Empire, and due to its popularity among pleasure seeking nobles, it quickly went from being abundant to nearly extinct.


    Now, it was an economic pillar for two provinces, mainly supplied to high society social circles.


    Because of its unique effects, it was dubbed "Le Tu!"


    A standard box of Le Tu contained twelve pieces and sold for between five hundred and six hundred dollar. If made from wild fungi, the price would exceed a thousand per box, with only six pieces inside.


    Clearly, this wasn''t wild fungi but cultivated. After all, the sale of this stuff was propping up the economy of two provinces, so its value was self-evident! chapter-source-MvLeMpYr


    Pronto, satisfied, crossed his legs and watched as Gador used a solid gold cutter to snip the end of the Le Tu before lightly heating it and handing it over. Nodding in approval, Pronto took a puff, immediately relaxing and even feeling a touch of laziness. He glanced at the Le Tu between his fingers and remarked, "This is good stuff."


    Gador immediately placed the gold cutter into Pronto''s pocket and handed the rest of the box to the old officer nearby. "Since you like it, Chief, take it with you!"


    Pronto smiled, pointing at him before finally speaking leisurely...

 Chapter 94: Chapter 94 The Missing Corder

    "This guy named Corder, I''m not sure what he did to offend Lady Vivian, but she specifically wants him and his two accomplices taken down. Do you understand?"


    As Pronto spoke, Gador suddenly felt overheated in his outfit, and he ripped open his collar, pacing a few steps. The smile he had been carefully maintaining began to turn slightly grim. In Ternell City, there was an interesting saying: Lady Vivian was considered the "shadow mayor," and whatever she decided, even the official mayor couldn''t change.


    Many policies already in effect were only implemented after receiving her nod of approval.


    This rumor circulated among the tycoons who had glimpses of the truth, though it remained unclear. Gador had once heard about it during a private dinner with some bosses. A reporter had once insinuated that although Lady Vivian''s father, the former governor, had stepped down due to illness, he still held onto his power without passing it on.


    The reporter had also criticized the influence of women in Ternell City''s politics, but the underlying message was aimed at Lady Vivian''s father.


    Less than three days later, that sharp-tongued journalist was found floating in the Agate River, his body already bloated.


    It was obvious that Lady Vivian''s father had ordered the hit, and the person who had influenced the journalist was none other than the new governor.


    Because Gador knew a bit too much, when he heard Pronto mention the name "Lady Vivian" with its near-magical weight, his anxiety spiked. Such a figure didn''t even need to lift a finger to deal with him¡ªjust a word, and he could be ruined, unless his boss was willing to protect him.


    But was he worth that much?


    He didn''t think so. Doing dirty work wasn''t exactly difficult; anyone could be found to do it. So, he had to save himself.


    He slammed the bell on the table with force, and soon someone entered the room. Turning back, his voice cold, he ordered, "Bring Corder here. If he resists, break his limbs!"


    The person hesitated for only a moment before nodding and leaving to carry out the task.


    Unfortunately for him, they would not be able to complete Gador''s command, as Corder was now in Julian''s hands.


    In a warehouse on a suburban farm, Corder and his two partners still couldn''t understand why they had ended up in the hands of these young people, or why they had been kidnapped. They had no money... well, maybe they had once, but that was all wasted on strong booze and cheap women. Corder wasn''t married and had no family, so he saw no need to save money.


    Living happily day to day was his only real wish.


    With a clump of scratchy grass shoved in his mouth and a scarf tied around it, he couldn''t spit it out or swallow. The saliva his body produced, thinking he was eating, mixed with bitter grass fibers and trickled down his throat, making him feel miserable. He swore that if he made it out of here, he would bring his crew and toss everyone in this place into the Agate River.


    He didn''t know how much time had passed before the warehouse door suddenly opened. Squinting into the light pouring in, he could see figures moving against the bright background. It took about ten seconds for his eyes to adjust from the darkness to the light.


    It was the group who had kidnapped him, and suddenly, his emotions flared. He struggled violently, letting out muffled grunts.


    One boy, clearly different from the others, approached him. Hooking his finger on the scarf, he pulled it down, allowing Corder to spit out the clump of grass with a loud gagging sound. His eyes glared fiercely at the boy, the muscles on his cheekbones twitching like a wild dog ready to fight over its food.


    "Corder?" the boy asked, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he looked down on him from above. Corder hated that feeling, so he turned his face away without answering.


    At that moment, a fist came from the side and struck his face, snapping his head to the side. His brain buzzed from the impact.


    "I don''t like being disrespected when I''m talking. That was just a small lesson. If it happens again, I''ll cut off your ear!"


    "Go ahead, cut it off!" Corder snarled, raising his eyebrow and turning his face toward the boy, exposing his ear. "Do it now! Cut it off!" He licked the swollen, painful spot on his lips, showing no fear of the threat.


    brought-to-you-by-MvLeMpYr


    One of the other boys, who looked almost like a girl, actually pulled out a knife from behind his waist. Grabbing Corder''s ear, he swiftly sliced it off. The blood didn''t spurt out but instead quietly flowed, and the ear, with bits of skin and muscle attached, dropped into the elegant boy''s hand.


    "Hey!" Corder gritted his teeth and didn''t scream, but instead sneered. "Good, very good. Come on, kill me! If I walk out of here alive, you''re all dead!"


    Julian shook his head, amused. "Do you really think you have any value left? Do you think I''m scared to kill you?" he said as he pulled out a gun and pointed it at Corder''s head. Just as Corder was about to spout more arrogant words, Julian pulled the trigger.


    The bullet shattered Corder''s skull, caving in the area from his temple to his brow. A mist of blood and brain matter sprayed from the back of his head, filling the warehouse with a metallic stench. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The two other tied-up men began trembling. They were Gador''s men, and in this city, apart from the big shots and tycoons, there was no one they feared. But why did these people seem unafraid of them? Why did they dare to attack them? They didn''t understand, nor did they want to. They just didn''t want to die.


    Without any pity, Julian looked at the two men, their eyes pleading as they struggled frantically. He fired two more shots, and the two were silenced forever.


    Julian holstered his gun and shrugged. "Clean this place up. I was planning to add a bit more trouble for Gador, but it doesn''t matter. He won''t get through this anyway."

 Chapter 95: Chapter 95 Looking For Corder

    Yes, Julian had orchestrated the entire plan himself. He had someone play Delier under the lights, counting money, knowing Corder would "just happen" to come across it and rob him. There had been at least five witnesses to the whole event.


    Julian had also arranged for Corder and the other two to be kidnapped in an unlit part of the street¡ªwhere he had someone break the streetlights at dusk¡ªand brought to the warehouse.


    He had come today to deal with the three of them and bury them on the farm. Once Gador couldn''t find them, Pronto would have no excuse to protect him. When faced with someone of Lady Vivian''s stature, just saving himself would take all Pronto''s effort. Why would he risk helping Gador? Gador wasn''t his son, nor had he given Pronto any significant benefits.


    By then, regardless of what Pronto wanted, his only way to remove himself from the situation would be to tell Lady Vivian that he had done his best, but Gador refused to hand over the people. He could even raid one or two of Gador''s territories to prove his dedication to the task.


    Feeling guilty, Lady Vivian, in gratitude for the sacrifices made by "John," would likely bring the matter up with the mayor.


    Of course, not the matter of her affairs with "John," but asking the mayor to put pressure on Gador to avenge Delier¡ªwithout needing to say too much.


    Whether or not the mayor had ties with Gador, he would have to consider which side offered him more benefits before making a decision. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    One was the daughter of the former governor, who still held considerable power in Kanros State and had an extensive social network.


    The other was merely the leader of a gang in Ternell City, who could help with some shady business occasionally but didn''t offer much else in return. Besides, Gador knew too many things for his own good.


    With such a comparison, the mayor would easily decide who to keep and who to discard.


    By then, even if Gador somehow survived, his power would be significantly diminished, making it much easier to deal with him later.


    Gador''s manor was brightly lit, with people constantly coming and going. Everyone belonging to Gador in Ternell city had been mobilized. Though they didn''t fully understand Gador''s orders, it didn''t stop them from carrying them out.


    Find Corder at any cost¡ªthat was the task Gador had given them. It had been years since anyone or anything had made Gador use the phrase "at any cost." Now that he had said it, all the gang members understood the gravity of the situation. Gador''s people were acting both visibly and behind the scenes. They even searched trash cans, thinking perhaps Corder had heard something and was hiding there.


    They lifted sewer covers, assigning dozens of people to check the pipes thoroughly. These men scoured every corner of the city, yet there was no trace of Corder.


    Staring at the woman kneeling in front of him, disheveled and terrified, Gador showed no sympathy. He considered himself a ruthless man, or at least that''s how he saw himself. He would rather reserve pity for small animals than waste it on humans. A small animal might bite you when you''re not paying attention, but a person could take your life.


    His face remained stern, head lowered, and the glow from his cigarette flared up as he took a deep drag, momentarily illuminating his face, which lay in the shadows outside the light''s reach.


    He flicked the cigarette ash, which tumbled and shattered on the floor.


    "Where did Corder go?" he asked.


    The woman before him was Corder''s "old flame." She wasn''t his girlfriend, nor his wife, just a woman with skills. With her talents, or perhaps for other sentimental reasons, she had become Corder''s most frequent companion. Sometimes Corder would even stay at her place, and many people thought it was only a matter of time before they''d live together permanently.


    Corder occasionally entrusted this woman, named Amy, with personal matters. She knew quite a bit, so when Corder couldn''t be found, she was the first to be brought here.


    Amy''s lips trembled, the corners of her mouth quivered, and even the muscles on her face twitched uncontrollably. Tears streamed from her eyes, ruining the makeup she had carefully applied earlier, creating a black torrent as her cheap cosmetics mixed with her tears. She wanted to cry but didn''t dare to make a sound. She knew Gador''s terror better than most, and that fear kept her from crying aloud.


    "I... I don''t know!" she stammered, her voice shaking as much as her erratic heartbeat. She quickly bowed, her forehead hitting the ground with a thud. Ignoring the burning pain and brief dizziness, she added, "I really don''t know where he is. He hasn''t come to see me in days. Please, spare me."


    see-MVLeMpYr-for-more


    Gador indifferently took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling a column of smoke. In the darkness, he tilted his head slightly. "But I heard that three days ago, you were still with him. Am I being deceived, or do you think I don''t know what''s going on?"


    Under the immense pressure, Amy broke down into soft sobs. She slowly straightened herself, her once neatly styled hair now covering most of her face. With her forehead wrinkling from the upward gaze, she pleaded, "God as my witness, I haven''t seen him in days. He was with me three days ago, but I had to go to work that night, so I left alone... Oh, right, he said Ken would come find him.


    They were going to have some fun together."


    "I swear, I don''t know where he went... God, I just want to go home!" As soon as she finished speaking, at least four men rushed out of the room. If they couldn''t find Corder, then they''d go after Ken. Ken was also a member of the gang and close to Corder. The two were like brothers, always playing together.


    Someone had already gone to Ken''s house, but he wasn''t home, and not wanting to waste time, they hadn''t looked further.

 Chapter 96: Chapter 96 Scapegoat

    Now, from Amy''s words, it seemed possible that Corder and Ken were together. They had already searched everywhere Corder might be, so why not try looking in Ken''s circle of contacts?


    Gador casually flicked the cigarette butt from his fingers and squatted in front of Amy. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he began gently wiping away the makeup smeared by her tears. Amy trembled violently, too scared to move as the man tenderly cleaned her face, yet she felt no warmth¡ªonly a coldness that engulfed her entire body.


    "Why didn''t you say this earlier?" Gador asked softly, continuing to wipe her face. "I don''t have much time, you understand? Not even a minute, not even a second." As he spoke, the handkerchief floated to the ground. Amy''s eyes rolled downward frantically, filled with a sense of profound despair. In the next moment, Gador''s hand closed around her throat, his face twisting with rage.


    Pronto''s words had put too much pressure on him. From a boy with nothing, he had risked his life and dignity to achieve his current status and possessions. He didn''t want to lose anything, whether it be his life or his power.


    But now, it seemed he might lose everything, simply because he hadn''t found that damned Corder, or that damned Ken, and all of it was because this woman hadn''t told the truth right away!


    The veins in his hand bulged as he tightened his grip. His thin, tightly pressed lips made him seem utterly merciless.


    Amy struggled under his grasp, but his other hand joined in, squeezing her neck tightly. She tried to pry his hands away, but a woman in tech was no match for a gang leader. Her struggles soon turned to slaps and frantic clawing. Gador tilted his head back, half-crouched, his arms extended, and his grip tightened.


    The movements of the woman in his hands grew smaller, weaker, until finally, there was no movement at all.


    He tossed Amy aside and stood up, brushing off his slightly disheveled clothes. After pacing for a few steps, he turned around and ordered, "I remember Corder, Ken, and someone else... Eden? Yes, him. The three of them were always close. Send someone to find Eden.


    I don''t care where they''re hiding, but you must find them soon, or we''re in big trouble!" Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Understand?"


    "Big trouble!"


    Watching his men rush out, he returned to the shadows and sat down in a chair. Without showing any sign of urgency, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.


    It was indeed big trouble. As the head of the most powerful underworld faction in the city, failing to find Corder meant losing control of his gang, or worse, defying the demands of those powerful figures. No matter what others thought, he knew he was in serious trouble. welcome-to-NovelFire


    At that moment, he thought of Wood.


    ...


    "What should I do now?"


    Wood glanced at Gador, who was sitting across from him. He wasn''t sure what was on Gador''s mind, but he noticed a slight furrow in his brow.


    These past few days, Wood had stayed here, waiting for Gador to bring him good news. Unfortunately, that good news seemed to be delayed, while the bad news had already arrived.


    Wood knew Madam Vivian quite well. As one of the city''s tycoons, he was often seen at gatherings of the elite, though he never openly admitted that he didn''t enjoy those events much. He always sensed a lack of respect from the influential attendees, who mockingly referred to him as ''The Axeman Wood,'' a nickname that belittled his rural origins.


    But he couldn''t avoid those circles. His life''s pursuit was within that small group, and after finally squeezing his way in, how could he just leave without hesitation?


    If it weren''t for recent events, he might have continued as before, dreaming of one day entering politics. He had even invested most of his savings in that path. His original plan was to apply for the election when the terms of the two councilmen in Ternell city ended in two years, but all that had been brought to an abrupt halt a few days ago.


    He felt a strange mix of relief and bitterness at the losses he had suffered.


    His thoughts quickly returned to the present. After a brief pause, he nodded and said, "You made a mistake!" Gador listened seriously, his expression like that of a diligent student in a classroom, which gave Wood a peculiar sense of satisfaction. "You shouldn''t have met Pronto face to face, and you definitely shouldn''t have spoken to him.


    Do you really think he came here, driving a police car in broad daylight, because of the pressure he felt?"


    "No, you''re wrong!"


    "His goal was to let everyone know that he, the chief of police in Ternell city, had come to see you. By doing that, he distanced himself from the issue. It''s easy to understand. Given Madam Vivian''s status, she would never come into contact with someone like Corder, a mere gang member. She doesn''t even know who he is.


    The responsibility lies with Pronto, and if Corder can''t be found, Madam Vivian will be furious, and Pronto will be the scapegoat."


    "But by swaggering over here in full view, he transferred that responsibility to you. And like an idiot, you took it, turning that responsibility into a noose and placing it around your own neck."


    Gador''s face darkened. In front of Wood¡ªat least in this moment¡ªhe didn''t need to maintain any pretenses. Wood was an experienced man who understood his feelings. What Gador hadn''t expected was that there was this layer of manipulation behind the situation. It made him feel like he had been played, taking on a burden that wasn''t even his to bear.


    He took a deep breath, calming himself before lowering his voice to ask, "I don''t want to hear this. I just want to know how to survive this crisis if I can''t find Corder."

 Chapter 97: Chapter 97 Everyone Is Shirking Responsibility

    Wood dodged the question and instead brought up another topic. "Do you know how we deal with people like you?" Without waiting for Gador to respond, Wood continued, "We''d pin a crime on you, throw you into the regional jail, and some insignificant thug you once humiliated would stab you in the back when you weren''t looking.


    Over the next while, you''d die from some ''accident,'' and you''d be marked as a casualty of gang warfare. Then, a new leader would rise, and the cycle of retaliation would continue."


    "See? Problem solved, and we''ve cleared out another destabilizing factor in the city¡ªa win-win."


    Just as Gador was on the verge of an outburst, Wood raised a hand to calm him down. "To resolve this problem¡­ well, it''s both simple and not. First, you need to remove yourself from the situation, just like Pronto did, by shifting the responsibility onto someone else."


    Wood''s suggestion left Gador puzzled. Seeing the confusion in Gador''s eyes, Wood gave a wry smile and shook his head. "I''ve had time to cool off these past few days. I was a fool back then. Robin had already told me the truth, but I ignored it and made a terrible mistake. Don''t think I''ve gone mad¡ªI haven''t!"


    At this point, Wood had gradually woken up from the pain and impulsiveness. Just a few days ago, he was consumed with thoughts of revenge, dreaming of inflicting a hundredfold suffering on that kid, Julian.


    But as he calmed down, he realized that all his pain stemmed from his own actions¡ªhis rigid, impulsive decisions had led to these consequences.


    If he had been willing to sit down and talk with Julian, if he had followed Robin''s advice to remain calm in the face of his close friend''s death, perhaps none of this would have happened. But he had been too impulsive.


    His years of surviving in high society had made him feel like his conflict with Julian was a personal insult, and all he wanted was to quickly erase that humiliation, neglecting so many crucial details. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In many ways, it was his fault.


    He continued, "First, we need to shift the responsibility, without question. At the same time, you need to demonstrate a sense of ''responsibility'' to the big players, showing them that even if it wasn''t your fault, you had the courage to take it on. That will win you some favor, even if that favor isn''t worth much."


    But Gador wasn''t listening. Frowning, he asked, "What should I do?"


    Wood pressed his lips together. "Plant evidence, frame someone else, and throw the blame on Julian."


    "You''re just using this to get revenge on him, aren''t you?" Gador was visibly displeased. He thought Wood hadn''t truly come to his senses, trying to exploit this situation for his personal vendetta against Julian. How could Wood claim he was calm?


    Wood smiled reassuringly at Gador. "This is exactly what you should do¡­"


    ...


    "Taken by Julian''s men?" Pronto rolled his eyes. "Do I look like an idiot?" Gador remained silent, which only deepened Pronto''s displeasure toward him. He had gone to great lengths to shift the responsibility to Gador, essentially asking him to take the fall. But now Gador was trying to push the blame onto Julian. Whether Julian could bear that burden or not wasn''t the issue.


    The problem was that if the blame kept getting passed around, it wouldn''t be Gador or Julian who looked the worst¡ªit would be Pronto.


    It was obvious. When the higher-ups handed down responsibility, it wasn''t to make Pronto''s life difficult. Madam Vivian''s intention had been clear. She and Pronto were from different worlds, and she had no need to make things hard for a local police chief to assert her status. She simply entrusted the task to the most suitable person, and that was it¡ªno hidden agenda.


    When Pronto passed the responsibility to Gador, Madam Vivian would understand. After all, no one expected a police chief to personally comb the streets looking for someone. She had given the job to the right person, and that person, like her, passed it on to someone else. This is where the chain of responsibility should have ended. It couldn''t be passed along any further.


    But Gador trying to pin the blame on Julian signaled something else¡ªthat everyone was shirking responsibility. This clearly amounted to brushing off Madam Vivian''s request.


    Failing to complete the task because of incompetence was one thing; you couldn''t blame a rooster for not laying eggs. But shirking responsibility was a different matter. It showed disrespect, disregard, and possibly resentment¡ªtoward whom?


    Madam Vivian might think that Pronto, the local police chief, was harboring some resentment toward her, hence his carelessness and lack of respect in handling the matter.


    And if Madam Vivian felt that way, what would she do?


    She would vent her frustration on Pronto. Either she''d strip him of his badge or give him a harsh reprimand. Neither outcome was something Pronto wanted.


    So, Gador had stepped right onto a landmine.


    After a moment of silence, Pronto''s eyes fell on the box of cigarettes on his desk. Annoyed, he opened it, intending to light one, only to find that a few sticks were missing. His look of confusion quickly turned to frustration as he slammed the box shut. He wasn''t about to lock it away in front of Gador, but he swore to himself that he''d give Shaun a lesson¡ªa serious one.


    There was no doubt. The only person bold enough to steal something from his office was Shaun.


    Already in a bad mood, and now feeling disrespected by Shaun, Pronto''s temper flared. He grabbed a stack of files from his desk and threw them at Gador. Gador didn''t dare dodge, taking the hit as the files scattered across the floor. Pronto stood up, walked a few steps behind his desk, and pointed a finger at Gador''s face. "Stupid. Completely idiotic.


    I don''t know which fool gave you this idea, but thinking you can avoid danger with a move like this is the height of stupidity." thank-you-for-using-NovelFire

 Chapter 98: Chapter 98 There Are Many People Named Corder

    "You need to understand one thing: this is a task given by Madam Vivian, and it hasn''t gone public yet. What do you think will happen if you fail to frame Julian?" Pronto sneered with anger. "Yes, I might face punishment, but you, Mr. Gador, the future big shot¡ªyou will face a much worse outcome."


    Pronto''s finger jabbed Gador''s chest as he spoke, pressing harder with each jab. Gador''s eye twitched, but he didn''t move, simply staring straight at Pronto, the police chief. Explore m,v,l,e,mpyr today.


    Pronto wasn''t exaggerating. The fact that Julian had managed to leverage his connection with Kevin meant he likely had ties to other influential figures as well. Ternell city didn''t belong to any one person. It belonged to a small group of people, visionaries with power. Moreover, the vice president of the city''s Chamber of Commerce was a Guar who had once pulled Graf out of prison.


    Pronto found it hard to believe that such a prominent figure had no connection to Julian.


    If there was one connection, it likely meant there were more¡ªpossibly many more¡ªthat Pronto wasn''t aware of. Julian''s grand gestures had even left Pronto with little resistance, so the higher-ups were probably even more impressed with his sincerity.


    Whether Julian knew more powerful people wasn''t the real issue. The real danger was what would happen if Gador''s attempt to frame him failed and Julian retaliated.


    Pronto knew that Madam Vivian had entrusted him with this task not just because she cared, but because it was a private matter¡ªsomething best kept quiet.


    A private matter is private only as long as it remains so. Once it''s public, it''s news. If they couldn''t catch the culprits and Julian was offended in the process, and if they also ended up angering Madam Vivian, Pronto figured he might as well jump out the window to spare himself further torment.


    For this reason, Pronto was completely against Gador''s plan to frame Julian. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This wasn''t digging a hole for someone else¡ªit was digging a grave for himself.


    "So, what do we do now?" Gador asked, taking a sealed envelope from his pocket and placing it on the table. Pronto glanced at it and sneered. The envelope contained little money, no more than two thousand. In the past, Pronto might have thought Gador was a decent young man¡ªaware of the rules, quick on the uptake. But after his dealings with Julian, Pronto now saw Gador as short sighted.


    In terms of making money, Julian wasn''t yet Gador''s equal, but Julian had offered ten thousand as a greeting gift, while Gador, with his bigger name and higher status, had only come up with two thousand to bribe Pronto. The comparison made Gador seem insignificant in Pronto''s eyes.


    Pronto calmed down a bit, considering his next move. Madam Vivian''s order was to capture the culprits and lock them up. Surely, she wouldn''t show up to personally witness it. Casually, Pronto pocketed the envelope, then put an arm around Gador''s neck, forcing his head slightly lower than his own. "There are many people named Corder in Ternell city. Go find the one you''re looking for!"


    ...


    "Ship this batch out as soon as possible... no, don''t wait for the evening. Send it during the day," Julian said to Ellis, giving instructions about the bootleg liquor shipment.


    Several bars in the city had already begun inquiring about how to stock ''First Love'' and ''Snow Elf.'' They had little choice. Beyond a few wealthy young patrons, the core customer base for bars consisted of successful men in their thirties, forties, or even fifties. The key was that they were successful.


    These patrons didn''t mind how much they spent in a single night; they only cared about getting their money''s worth.


    Not everyone might like the taste of "First Love," but if one in three did, that was already a remarkable number. And right now, many of the core customers loved the flavor of "First Love." After all, not everyone''s life from birth to success was smooth sailing, and "First Love" resonated with those who had experienced hardship.


    So, the bars that hadn''t yet received the liquor were desperate to avoid losing their clientele and quickly reached out to Julian, hoping to stock "First Love" and "Snow Elf" on their shelves as soon as possible.


    Ellis, who had been in charge of production lately, followed Julian''s instructions without question, nodding repeatedly. Just a moment ago, he had asked whether they should transport the liquor at night to avoid Gador''s surveillance. But Julian immediately rejected the idea and instructed him to ship it during broad daylight.


    Ellis still didn''t fully understand why, but that didn''t stop him from executing Julian''s orders.


    In fact, Julian was right. The danger of transporting at night far exceeded the risks of doing it in the day. No matter how reckless Gador might be, he wouldn''t dare engage in street violence in broad daylight, unless he wanted even more trouble.


    After settling the shipment arrangements, Julian and Ellis chatted briefly, just as Dave entered the room with a serious expression. In the past, Ellis might have taken this as his cue to leave, closing the door behind him, but his role had changed. Now, he no longer needed to step aside like an ordinary member of the guild.


    Dave''s expression was grim as he kicked off his boots. "They found Corder and took him to the police station. The police have already convicted the three men for robbery and plan to send them to the regional jail in the coming days." The thought of how his "sacrifice" had been dismissed so easily filled him with an unspeakable fury. He glared at Julian, who simply smiled.


    "Don''t worry. The more tricks they pull, the quicker they''ll die," Julian said, understanding that nothing ever went exactly as planned. Whether you were a noble or just an ordinary person, you had to constantly adjust to the complexities of the situation. His original plan was to exact revenge on Gador and Wood, but somehow Pronto had been pulled into the mix as well.


    While this wasn''t part of his plan, he didn''t mind.

 Chapter 99: Chapter 99 Escalating A Failure Into Outright Deceit

    In his initial strategy, Gador''s inability to produce Corder would have enraged Madam Vivian, which would, in turn, catch the attention of the mayor and the two councilmen. Those three, the most powerful figures in Ternell city, would easily discard someone as insignificant as Gador to appease Madam Vivian''s wrath. Julian had never imagined that Gador would actually produce three men.


    Clearly, he had cheated.


    Gador had found three individuals willing to take the fall for Corder and his group, passing them off as the now deceased trio. He then handed them over to the authorities, perfectly fulfilling Madam Vivian''s request. When the time was right, Gador would likely pull the men out of jail, or simply silence them, neatly tying up the whole matter.


    This wasn''t about Gador''s bravery but about how well these people understood the arrogance of the elite. The upper echelons of society were so self assured that they believed no one would dare defy or deceive them. In their eyes, the only difference between them and god was that they couldn''t revive the dead. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was precisely this arrogance that allowed people like Gador to find loopholes, to deceive and manipulate, unchecked.


    Gador and whoever advised him likely believed that someone as high ranking as Madam Vivian wouldn''t personally inspect the three men. Even if she did, they assumed she wouldn''t recognize whether these were the people she was looking for. Unfortunately for them, they overlooked one crucial detail¡ªthis wasn''t a random incident. It was a deliberately orchestrated "accident."


    Because they missed this key element, they had effectively placed their necks in a noose.


    If Gador''s failure to produce the real Corder was seen as disrespectful to Madam Vivian, then this charade¡ªsubstituting impostors¡ªwas outright deceit, a far worse offense!


    And a greater offense naturally brings harsher consequences.


    Julian felt a brief twinge of guilt for Pronto. In the end, if it weren''t for Pronto''s cooperation, the three men wouldn''t have been so easily identified as Madam Vivian''s targets and sent to the regional jail. Without Pronto''s involvement, Gador would still be in deep trouble, scrambling to provide results. Their cooperation had expedited the entire process!


    After a silent prayer for Pronto, Julian set the matter aside. As long as the three men were locked up, Gador would suffer greatly, even if he didn''t die. This was the downside of operating without all the necessary information.


    Bidding Ellis farewell, Julian took Dave with him to the Guar residential district in Ternell. He needed to visit the families of the fallen members, a promise he had made and one he intended to keep. He firmly believed that integrity was the foundation of any person''s success in society. If you made a promise, no matter how awkward or humiliating, you had to keep it.


    Otherwise, no one would trust you, and you''d find yourself at a standstill.


    The Guar residential district was as impoverished and desolate as ever. Most of those with the ability to work had left for other parts of the city, leaving only the elderly, women, and children.


    A group of six- or seven-year-old children, dressed in clothes that were either too large or too small and covered in patches, ran up and down the garbage-filled streets, their laughter echoing in the cold air. Nearby, a few middle-aged women sat together in small groups, basking in the sun, their eyes following Julian, Dave, and their car with curiosity.


    Some of the children gathered around, their dark eyes filled with wonder as they gazed at the car, which wasn''t particularly new, but still a novelty. They reached out their hands.


    They were asking for candy or coins¡ªanything. This behavior had become an unwritten rule in the world''s slums: if you didn''t give a little money or a small gift, you might find it difficult to proceed. But if you did give, it wouldn''t be a small amount.


    Several adults had already turned their attention to the scene. If Julian or Dave handed out even a single coin, they would immediately start banging on their doors, calling their children out to join the beggars.


    Many had criticized the Guars for this behavior, but if life and society hadn''t pushed them to such extremes, perhaps they wouldn''t be so desperate.


    Sometimes, even though you know what you''re doing is wrong and should not be done, there are always reasons why you must do it.


    Julian took a roll of one-dollar bills from his pocket. He didn''t particularly like this habit of rolling bills into a cylinder, but people here loved doing it. Holding a roll of money tightly in their hands seemed to bring them more pleasure and satisfaction.


    The knocking on doors on the street began immediately, like a majestic symphony. More and more children came out of their homes, some as young as five or six, without clothes or shoes, running out as clean as they came into the world. They gathered around the car and the two young "big shots."


    Handing out paper bills to each one of them was rather troublesome because you had to consider everyone''s feelings and distribute them one by one. Although these children were poor and sometimes difficult to handle, they were very polite, and this was not contradictory.


    When Julian handed a dollar to a little girl, who looked no older than five or six and was wearing nothing but patched-up pants, she sweetly said, "Thank you," and then withdrew from the crowd.


    More and more children gathered around, and many of them recognized Dave, calling out his name. chapter source m vl _emp-y,r


    Dave had a certain reputation among the young Guar people and children in Ternell city. His peers looked up to him as an idol and a goal because, whether in the past or now, he had changed his family''s circumstances through his own efforts, making himself look impressive. Younger children feared him; adults didn''t always speak positively about Dave.


    They would use his name to scare the kids, saying things like, "If you don''t behave and go to sleep, I''ll have Dave come beat you," or "Put down that bread, or I''ll send you to Dave."

 Chapter 100: Chapter 100 Uniting The Guar

    The children surrounding them hesitated, but under the temptation of the money in Julian''s hand, they kept pressing forward.


    With more and more kids coming, Julian realized that this could go on forever. He pulled out another roll of bills, combined two rolls together, and threw them into the crowd. In an instant, over a hundred bills were tossed into the air, falling like snowflakes, creating a "rain of money" over the crowd.


    The children''s attention immediately shifted from Julian and Dave to the bills falling from the sky.


    This generous display also brought some adults out of their homes. They didn''t take action but stood on the street, watching as one unfamiliar and one familiar young man walked toward them.


    "Hey, Dave, what are you doing here?" someone asked. Dave smiled and shook his head without saying a word, pointing at Julian.


    Julian stepped onto the sidewalk. The children were still scrambling for the bills raining down, and there was no one around him. He adjusted his clothing and put on a serious expression, trying to look as earnest and solemn as possible. His gaze slowly moved over the adults standing by the roadside, and most of them instinctively looked away when his eyes met theirs.


    It wasn''t that Julian''s gaze was particularly fierce, but his previous extravagant behavior made these adults realize that this was a young man they couldn''t afford to offend.


    Because he had money.


    In this cruel yet fantastical society, money was the standard by which everything was measured. If you had money, you were powerful, you could be justified, and even unreasonable. If you didn''t have money, it was better to remain a peaceful, unbothered poor person and avoid bringing trouble upon yourself.


    "My name is Julian!" Julian introduced himself in a deep voice to the adults around him. "Some of you may have heard of me but never seen me. Today, I''m here to bring sad news and offer my confession."


    "I''ve never thought of myself as some great figure. I''m just a normal person struggling in this damned society. Maybe one day, I''ll have countless bills and lay in a mansion fooling around with dozens of women." Some people around chuckled, but Julian didn''t. The next part wasn''t funny.


    "But there''s also another possibility: I could die one day, at an unremarkable moment, from a stray bullet at a street corner."


    "I understand that I''ve caused some of you to lose children and loved ones, and for that, I am deeply sorry. I sincerely apologize for my mistakes and for the pain I caused in your families. Now, following the course of fate, I stand before you to offer my most humble apology."


    The crowd slowly parted, and two women with grief-stricken faces supported each other as they walked up to Julian. These were relatives of two teenagers who had died in a fight. The sorrow on their faces was as deeply etched as an artist''s sculpture, carved into their skin, muscles, and even their souls!


    Julian stepped forward, grasped their noticeably aged hands, and held them tightly. "I know that no matter how much I try to make amends, I can never fill the void left by your lost loved ones. But I''m here. I don''t expect your forgiveness, but I hope I can use my humble abilities to do my best to compensate for your loss."


    At this moment, Dave walked over and pulled out two rolls of money from his pocket. Each roll was made of ten-dollar bills, totaling several hundred, maybe even a thousand dollars. The surrounding Guar people gasped. This was the most money they had ever seen in one place in their entire lives. The impact was like facing a towering tsunami, shaking both their bodies and spirits.


    Julian placed the two rolls of money into the hands of the two women, pressing them tightly. "I am a shameful person, for in this moment, I find no other way to comfort you than with money. Accept this, along with my apology, my promise, and my remorse!"


    "I will build a school nearby, a free school where any Guar child can receive an education without paying a single penny. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I will build a park where all the children can play on clean lawns. Enjoy exclusives from m-vle-mpyr.


    "I will establish a hospital, perhaps not the most advanced, but I guarantee there will be no consultation fees, and treatment costs will be far lower than other hospitals."


    "I am Julian. Keep your eyes on me, and I will lead everyone down a different path. There may be difficulties, death, and sacrifices, but as long as I live!"


    Julian''s words poured down over the entire neighborhood like a torrential rain, drawing more and more adults closer. They constantly asked those around them what Julian had just said and why everyone was so excited.


    The world majority of people provided for the luxurious lives of the few, elevated their social status, and allowed them to enjoy wealth and wield unlimited power. But if one day, these 95% of the poor no longer wish to raise them, what will they have left?


    Julian never considered the poor Guar people as a burden on his path to struggle and development. On the contrary, these people could very well be the strongest foundation for building his empire!


    "I once promised..." As soon as Julian spoke, the previously noisy crowd quieted down instantly. Aside from the occasional laughter of the children, only Julian''s voice could be heard on the street. "The parents of every member of the fellowship are my parents. We should be one family; all Guar should be one family.


    God has bestowed upon us the bloodline of King Ordlero, and we should unite closely together to roar against all who dare to discriminate against us, threaten us, or mistreat us!"


    "The bloodline of King Ordlero still flows within us. The will of the king has never been extinguished, and even though our nation has fallen, the descendants of Ordlero will never submit to the manipulations of fate!"

 Chapter 101: Chapter 101 Building A Solid Structure For The Gang

    Ordlero was the first emperor of the Guar kingdom, a ruler with immense personal charisma. He wasn''t just an emperor; he was also a great thinker, a great artist, a great statesman, and a beloved king. This history dates back over a thousand years. The once-powerful kingdom nearly ruled the entire world, which is why all Guar proudly refer to themselves as descendants of King Ordlero.


    Julian''s words sparked a strong reaction once again. The Guar people, who had always been treated differently, felt an indescribable heat surge to their heads, something welling up in their eyes. They spontaneously pushed forward, wanting to get closer to this young speaker. Read stories at mvl|emp|yr.


    "Some of you may ask me, ''Are you saying all this to restore the kingdom?''" Julian tightly pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I''ve never thought of using other people''s lives in war to achieve something for myself or a few individuals. I don''t seek the restoration of the kingdom.


    What I fight for is justice, equality, and respect that should belong to us in this society but has been taken away from us!"


    "I am unwilling, I am in pain, I am angry!"


    "When I walk the streets, and those Ordinian or Provian eyes of disdain fall upon me, I feel like dying. I am the descendant of the great King Ordlero. We once conquered the world, and we should be respected, but we are not." His voice grew louder so that all could hear him.


    He waved his fist and shouted, "No one respects us! We only receive mockery, ridicule, and contempt! Whose fault is this? Is it the Ordinian''s fault? Is it because the Star Empire defeated us that we lost all this? Should we blame them?" Julian waved his arm fiercely.


    "No! This is not the fault of the Ordinians, nor the Star Empire. It is our fault."


    "Someone threw a dog''s food bowl in front of us, and some of us knelt down, eating the food from the bowl like dogs. How could they possibly treat us as equals, how could they respect us?"


    "They are poor, content to be poor, content to receive relief food, content to wallow in such an environment. They kneel on the ground, crouching by the dog''s bowl, barking when they don''t get their way, wagging their tails when they do."


    Julian pulled his gaze back and continued to shout, "There''s a question you may have already been asked, and today, I ask you the same thing: ''Do you want happiness?''" This was the slogan the church used to entice ordinary people into their chapels. It had once even been printed in the most authoritative imperial magazine, The Pioneer.


    Many were drawn by this slogan and walked into the church, becoming its followers. When Julian asked this, many people couldn''t help but nod. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Poor neighborhoods were always the church''s main targets for expansion. The church knew well that while the rich might join, they would never sincerely devote everything to the church. Because they were rich, they had fewer emotional and life deficiencies than the poor. As long as they had money, they were happy, and money was their happiness.


    Thus, the church preferred to spread its message in places where the poor gathered, attracting more people and expanding its divine power.


    This phrase had circulated on this street more than once, and everyone had heard it before.


    Julian nodded slightly in acknowledgment, his face serious and his eyes sharp. "I cannot give you happiness!" The crowd murmured in confusion. This statement was in stark contrast to the previous one. Many people had nodded, hoping for happiness, only to find Julian now saying he couldn''t give it to them. The abrupt shift made them feel deceived, though they hadn''t erupted just yet.


    Julian smirked slightly and said, "Because happiness is never something that anyone can give you. It''s something you must strive for with your own hands. And that, too, is why I''m here! While some people still willingly become wagging dogs, accepting the fate handed to them and begging for food from others, there''s already a group of people who have stood up.


    They use their hands, their lives, and fight with everything they have to pursue happiness.


    "Some may mock them as fools: ''Look at them, they died for nothing.'' But I''m here to tell you that they are not fools. Those who carry hope for the future, who live their lives passionately, can never be looked down upon by those who are already dead inside while still alive! No one, no one, can look down on a warrior. They haven''t left us.


    They''ve only become spirits, accompanying me, guiding those willing to rise, to break free from hardship, and create our own glory!"


    Julian jumped off the stool and walked to the two mothers, once again grasping their hands tightly. "No one can mock your children because they are heroes!"


    ...


    After crossing several intersections, by the time Julian drove away, a large crowd had already gathered on the street to see him off. In their eyes, there was a long lost sense of anticipation, as if the sky itself had split open because of this man named Julian. Brilliant colors broke through the heavy, gray clouds, falling to earth and bathing the world in a dazzling glow.


    Julian withdrew his gaze from the car''s rear windshield, sat upright, and adjusted his clothes. He had spent a lot of money today, but every penny was necessary. He recalled in one of his dreams, where he had met many powerful and varied people, a particular individual whose words left a deep impression on him.


    That man was a professor. Julian wasn''t entirely sure what he taught, but the prominent figure Julian often saw in his dreams held him in high regard. After a social gathering over tea, the professor said something memorable to the influential man:


    "When people construct a building, they consider every possible and impossible contingency. So, they make the structure as grand and solid as possible. Earthquakes, tsunamis, floods¡ªnothing can easily destroy it. You have to build your business empire with the same foresight, because once it''s up and running, the wolves will already be waiting outside, and you''ll have no chance to go out and fix it."

 Chapter 102: Chapter 102 Discovering The Immense Opportunity At His Hands

    "But een so, you still have to be wary, because the wolves aren''t your biggest worry. If someone wants to destroy it from the inside, tampering with just a few critical points will cause the entire structure to collapse at an unimaginable speed."


    For a long time, Julian''s lasting impression of the professor''s words was tied to a desire for destruction. He wanted to test whether, as the professor claimed, merely targeting a few key points could bring down a solid structure. But in this moment, what he thought of was something else¡ªpower. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The building the professor had described seemed eerily similar to the present-day society of the Star Empire. The Empire''s framework and rules had been in place for many years, with annual revisions and reinforcements. Even the recently concluded War of the Nations showcased this resilience. It was difficult to destroy this colossal "building" from the outside. So, what about from the inside?


    Of course, as Julian had promised, he didn''t seek regime change. He knew he lacked the power to achieve such a feat. What he needed was to build his own set of rules, his own inner structure within the existing framework. His identity and bloodline were his building materials.


    Anyone aiming for greater heights must be fully prepared. The Guar were a minority in Ternell city, few in number and poor, but they had something others lacked¡ªthey had been pushed to the brink, and that was precisely what Julian needed.


    He hadn''t lied. He would lead everyone toward happiness, but only under the condition that these people were his "followers"¡ªhis "own people."


    It was at this moment that Julian suddenly realized why Heidler had supported his creation of the guild and was willing to fund it. Heidler needed this force too. In ancient Guar mythology, there was a parable called "The Sea of Sparks." It wasn''t about another world or some celestial body floating in space, but rather about a single spark that ignited a catastrophic fire.


    The parable described a thriving city that was destroyed by a single spark from an oil mill.


    Ternell city was the oil mill, and the Guar were the spark.


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    Julian''s eyes lit up. He closed his eyes, and Dave immediately instructed the driver to slow down, sensing that Julian had likely thought of something important.


    What had Julian thought of?


    He had thought of something deeper, thanks to what he had seen and experienced in his dreams, which were now gradually coming into use.


    At this time, the Empire had not yet recovered from its pyrrhic victory in the War of the Nations. Rumor had it that anti-government armed forces were emerging across various regions, actively seeking either restoration or independence, further exhausting the already weary Empire.


    On the political stage, the New Faction was loudly advocating for constitutional monarchy, overthrowing one noble after another. Even His Majesty the Emperor had no choice but to make concessions in the face of this sudden political storm.


    In such an internally and externally troubled environment, what was most important?


    Stability.


    Whether it was the nobles labeled as the Old Faction or the reformists known as the New Faction, they both sought stability. The essence of their conflict lay in their desire to resolve the current chaos and eliminate corruption.


    Although the Guar were a small and seemingly insignificant part of the Empire, in Ternell city, though a minority, they were a force that could not be ignored. Previously, no one had united them. Firstly, the feudal system was inherently more cautious and harsh toward outsiders, making it too dangerous for anyone to try uniting them.


    Even those who had the thought didn''t dare act on it, and no one else dared respond.


    Secondly, there was no suitable leader. While Heidler was wealthy and held significant influence in the Empire''s upper circles, he was "unreliable." As the descendant of traitors and with the stark class disparity, he lacked the foundation to unify the Guar. Among the Guar, there was no one who could lead them out of the shadows.


    Dreamers might exist, but dreamers never become the mainstream, nor could they lead the charge, like a cannon in a dream.


    But Julian¡ªhe was an exception.


    He was the son of a farmer, or rather, a commoner, not much different from the countless ordinary Guar. He had improved his own circumstances through his own efforts and changed his fate. Naturally, he became a symbol, a guide, and ultimately the one who could lead the way. Heidler had seen this in him, which is why he was willing to support him.


    With this realization, Julian''s previously uncertain thoughts about the future suddenly became clear. Ternell city would be his starting point, radiating out to the whole of Kanus, and eventually, the entire Empire!


    The car quickly disappeared at the end of the street, and the crowd slowly dispersed, though many of their eyes were still gleaming with excitement.


    Early the next morning, Dave knocked on Julian''s door.


    Although Gador might no longer pose an immediate threat, caution was still necessary. Julian was staying in a residential home.


    He rubbed his face, got out of bed, and put on a clean, freshly ironed shirt¡ªpressed by the landlady, for which he had paid twenty-five cents. He opened the door and looked at Dave.


    "This morning, at least fifty people have expressed interest in joining the Fellowship guild. So many people showed up that I didn''t dare make a decision. What do you think we should do?" Dave''s face was filled with excitement. Everyone wants to have power, for only by becoming strong can one resist the whims of fate!


    "Having people want to join is definitely a good thing. It means that, to some extent, we now have the strength to represent the majority. Let them join. I''ll meet with everyone tonight," Julian said. Dave nodded and turned to leave, but when he was halfway down the stairs, Julian called him back. "Wait a minute.


    Don''t let them join the Fellowship guild right now. Instead, hire them as employees under the company''s name and have them start by delivering goods."

 Chapter 103: Chapter 103 Vivian

    Calling Dae back was a result of Julian''s careful consideration. Just moments after agreeing to let those people join the guild, he suddenly realized a problem¡ªno matter the form or purpose, in many people''s eyes, a guild like this would be seen as a gang. As Graf had once put it, this was a gang, not just a community organization with a different agenda. It was a gang.


    Julian didn''t oppose this idea, but he didn''t fully support it either. Where the sun doesn''t shine, shadows inevitably exist. However, he didn''t want a future where the first thing people associated with his name was the title of a gang leader. It wasn''t that he looked down on such a role; rather, he needed more "business cards" and wanted to minimize negative associations as much as possible.


    Thus, light and darkness needed to be separated from the chaos and held in each of his hands.


    One hand for light.


    One hand for darkness.


    Some people are born to carve a path through blood and fire, but others are not suited for such a road. Julian had made bold promises and couldn''t force those unsuited for this path to march toward their deaths. Instead, he would place them on the side of the light, making them employees of the company. This not only resolved confidentiality issues but also fulfilled his commitments.


    Julian''s sudden change of heart didn''t surprise Dave. Dave knew he wasn''t a smart man, so he merely needed to follow orders. He nodded, turned, and left. Julian went back inside to freshen up and prepare to go out.


    He glanced at the morning newspaper Dave had brought, its bold, black headline reading "Victory of Justice." Below the headline was an image of Kevin embracing that girl in court.


    They had won the case, especially after Kevin presented additional evidence, had two witnesses supplement their testimonies, and produced the "killer''s" confession letter, which dealt a decisive blow to Camille and secured their victory.


    There were still some unresolved questions in this case, but as Kevin had said before the trial, when the majority wants to be on the side of justice, justice will stand beside them.


    The judge knew there were still issues with the case, but under pressure from public opinion and higher authorities, he declared the girl not guilty, effectively sentencing Camille career to "death." The public cheered, the "justice-loving" citizens celebrated, and even the elites breathed a sigh of relief. A win-win, right?


    As for minorities like Camille...


    Sometimes, justice is "sacrifice."


    Kevin had already left Ternell, heading to the Empire''s capital to begin his new journey, thus putting a perfect end to his past.


    Now, Julian too had to tie up the loose ends of this sudden series of events.


    ...


    "Dear, what happened to your wrist?" The mayor of Ternell, Peter Turner, asked as he sipped his milk tea, laced with fresh cream and sugar. He had noticed the bruise on his wife Vivian''s wrist. Reaching out to grab her hand, she pulled away.


    Peter Turner, an Ordinian born into the middle class, had graduated from the Empire''s Second Military Academy before making a name for himself. Initially assigned to the Canus-Ordo Army Logistics Unit, he later transferred to the military police, where he met Vivian, propelling his rapid rise from soldier to politician, eventually becoming mayor.


    Outwardly, he was an attractive middle-aged man, with meticulously groomed hair and a face radiating mature male charm, enough to attract many women.


    He kept in excellent shape, and his authority imbued him with an air of gravitas¡ªhe was an incredibly charismatic figure. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When his wife pulled her hand away, Peter merely smiled, though he felt a hint of annoyance. His face, however, betrayed nothing. He still relied on his bedridden father-in-law for many things, so he tolerated his wife''s impoliteness with a gracious smile.


    "I just got it caught accidentally; it''s no big deal," Vivian said, a flicker of displeasure in her eyes. Her father had once warned her that this was never going to be a happy marriage.


    Ambitious men may be charming and make for pleasurable lovers in the short term, but they do not make the best partners. At the time, she hadn''t understood what he meant, and she married Peter without hesitation. Now, however, she understood all too well.


    Peter smiled and nodded. "Be more careful in the future. If there''s anything that needs doing, let the servants handle it. You just supervise."


    Vivian gave a faint, insincere smile, nodded in agreement, and excused herself with, "I''m full." She stood and left. Peter glanced at the untouched breakfast on her plate and shook his head. Find more at mp-y,r.


    Vivian was deeply frustrated. Even though she knew her mayor husband had lovers outside the home¡ªpossibly more than one¡ªshe still wished he would at least come home at night to maintain a semblance of dignity between them.


    Last night, he hadn''t returned, and even though he emerged from the study this morning, stretching and claiming he had slept there to avoid disturbing her, she knew full well he hadn''t come home until dawn.


    At this thought, she let out a cold laugh and ordered the butler to prepare her car. She was going to see Delier, and that delightful young fellow.


    The bruise on her wrist was a remnant of their last passionate encounter. On the surface, Vivian appeared strong and composed, always displaying a gentle smile, but deep down, she was a fiercely dominant person. She enjoyed conquering young men, or perhaps¡­ being conquered.


    Thinking of Jon, her heart stirred with anticipation.


    This marriage had been a twisted political arrangement from the start. Perhaps she had once loved Peter, but she had long since woken up.


    When she saw Delier, whose face was still swollen and bruised, she recalled her earlier instructions and casually said, "Those three people you mentioned have been found. If you want to do anything, I''ve already avenged you."


    Delier flashed a perfect smile before inhaling sharply and saying, "I truly cannot thank you enough, but I have a small request, though it may be a bit impolite..."

 Chapter 104: Chapter 104 The Root Of The Problem Wasnt Vivian

    Delier wanted to personally exact revenge on the thugs who had nearly ruined his handsome face, but Lady Vivian didn''t give his request much thought. In her eyes, this was just how Delier was unable to differentiate between important and trivial matters, and never learning the kind of tolerance that only upper class people possessed. So, without hesitation, she agreed to his request.


    To her, this was truly a minor issue.


    "This is my card. Take it to the district police station and look for Chief Pronto. State your request, and he will help you settle the score," Lady Vivian said as she pulled a gilded card from her small handbag. Casually, she grabbed the pen from Delier''s chest pocket, where it served as decoration, and wrote her name and the date on the card.


    In upper society, men liked to use calling cards, which they designed in various ways to reflect their personality. Some cards were grand and ostentatious, while others were subtle and restrained. There was even a book once published, titled Personality Through Cards, which sold well for two years.


    Women, on the other hand, preferred using calling cards, with one letter''s difference in the term between men and women, yet a vast distinction in meaning.


    Calling cards for men had their own set of rules¡ªsize, thickness, even the colors and embellishments all followed specific guidelines. But calling cards for women were much more flexible, aside from a few essential considerations. For example, Lady Vivian''s card was about eight centimeters wide and twelve centimeters long, made from soft yet resilient paper.


    The edges were gilded with gold leaf, forming a vine pattern that represented her noble lineage. According to the rhetoric of the New Faction, only a decayed aristocrat¡ªat least of earl rank¡ªhad the right to emboss their cards with gold.


    At the top of the gilded vine was a blooming flower, the crest of Lady Vivian''s family. Inside the vine were images of a green field and a blue sky that took up most of the space.


    She signed her name and wrote the date, which was key. Before the New Faction overthrew the decaying feudal regime, aristocratic calling cards had a fearsome authority and influence.


    Once, a farmer who had never attended a single day of school managed to obtain the calling card of a high-ranking imperial figure and used it to scam his way through a remote area, eventually making off with tens of thousands of gold coins.


    Since then, aristocrats began signing and dating their calling cards.


    After the New Faction toppled the old feudal system and established a new order, dating these cards lost much of its significance. Official matters were now handled through more formal documents, and aristocratic calling cards had lost their former power. Nonetheless, many aristocrats still signed and dated their cards out of nostalgia, as a symbol of maintaining their noble status.


    A pitiful symbol.


    Delier took the card and left. Not long after, "Jon" appeared before Lady Vivian''s eyes. She smiled and walked toward him. "Have you been waiting long?" she asked, her hand gently smoothing a small crease on his collar. Then she affectionately linked her arm with his and walked with him into the art gallery. "Sorry for calling you here so suddenly.


    I just didn''t know what else to do¡­"


    The two gradually disappeared into the depths of the gallery, and when the heavy bronze doors closed shut behind them, not a sound could be heard. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Meanwhile, Delier, holding the calling card, found Pronto. Pronto took the card and carefully examined it several times before reluctantly confirming it was indeed Lady Vivian''s card. He had his methods of verifying such things, and as the district police chief, it was a skill he had to have.


    After placing the card in his drawer, Pronto leaned back, his hands resting on the desk, and looked up at Delier. "So¡­ what is it you want from me?"


    Delier touched his cheek, feeling a sting that made his eye twitch slightly. He still hadn''t forgotten how those three thugs had suddenly jumped him, beating him up and robbing him of the "hush money" he had received from Julian. The physical pain and financial loss filled him with hatred, and to Pronto''s surprise, he actually smiled. "I want to see those three guys suffer, do you understand?"


    "Which three?" Pronto asked impatiently. He was well aware that Lady Vivian was a powerful figure, far more influential than he was. But that didn''t mean every person holding her card could come in and push him around¡ªhe was, after all, the district police chief! But just as he furrowed his brow, a cold sweat ran down the side of his face.


    Everything had happened so quickly, as if that drop of sweat had been waiting for this very moment. experience NovelFire,mp|y|r


    Delier''s next words confirmed Pronto''s fears.


    "The one with three moles on his face, and his two accomplices!"


    Damn it!


    That was Pronto''s first reaction. To avoid trouble with Gador, he had subtly suggested that Gador find three random people to take the blame. He planned to turn a blind eye, make a gesture, and everything would be brushed under the rug. And besides, Lady Vivian''s description of the suspects had been so vague and abstract, resembling modern art more than an actual portrait.


    Since she wasn''t likely to personally follow up on the matter, Pronto had figured that as long as he fudged the details, it would all blow over.


    He hadn''t been wrong¡ªLady Vivian had nearly forgotten about the issue by the next day. It was such a minor affair that she didn''t feel the need to keep it in mind. If she hadn''t seen the bruises on Delier''s face, she might not have even remembered it at all.


    But the root of the problem wasn''t Lady Vivian¡ªit was Delier.


    Pronto''s gaze grew sharp as he glared at Delier. Usually, Delier was the type to raise his chin arrogantly, mutter something about "vulgar commoners," and leave with a haughty air, refusing to stoop to Pronto''s level. But now, under the intense stare of the police chief, Delier shifted uncomfortably and averted his gaze. "You mean Corder¡­" Pronto began.


    Delier nodded, and Pronto continued, "I''m afraid you''re too late. They''ve already been transferred to Ternell City''s district prison. Without the warden''s permission, not even I can see them."

 Chapter 105: Chapter 105 Make Sure Their Faces Are Unrecognizable

    Delier was taken aback; he hadn''t expected that.


    Though the police and prison systems appeared closely linked, they were actually independent entities. As Pronto had said, without the warden''s consent, no one could see the prisoners. Even dismissing the warden required layers of bureaucratic approval, and by the time those papers passed through, it wouldn''t be surprising if a prisoner suddenly "died" along the way.


    The prison system might not be particularly powerful in the broader social structure, but once you crossed paths with it, you''d feel the weight of the "independent king" authority it wielded.


    In prison, inmates often referred to the warden as "His Majesty the King" because every rule and regulation was dictated by the warden alone.


    Wardens had near-absolute authority within the prison, but outside of it¡­ they were nobodies, especially when unrelated to their domain.


    Though this situation was troublesome, it wasn''t as dire as Pronto made it seem. He had exaggerated the truth, using a small detail to muddle the facts. In reality, he and the district prison warden were good friends, with no reason for the warden to deny him a visit. Pronto''s real aim was to deter Delier from pursuing the matter any further, to avoid any potential mishaps.


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    However, Pronto had overlooked one key detail: this wasn''t Delier''s issue alone. Normally, Delier would have scoffed, thrown his head back with a haughty sneer, and left with a dismissive comment. But the problem now was that it wasn''t just Delier pushing for this¡ªit was Julian.


    The memory of Julian''s merciless beating, when he had been tied to a chair, filled Delier with dread. He decided to stay and take this matter seriously.


    "If you can''t do it, then return the calling card to me, and I''ll go speak to the warden myself," Delier said, flipping his wrist so that his palm faced upward, rolling his eyes as he gazed at the ceiling.


    Pronto was silently cursing, though his face remained composed, upholding the demeanor of a police chief. He opened his drawer and placed his hand on the card but didn''t take it out. "Even if I gave it to you, there''s no guarantee the warden will let you see those three."


    Delier, no stranger to the ways of the world, scoffed, still staring at the ceiling. "You don''t have to give it to me, but I can always go back to Lady Vivian for another. I''ll also make sure to tell her everything that happened here."


    At these words, Pronto raised his arm and placed the card on the desk, though he still didn''t hand it to Delier. He needed to try a bit harder. "I sincerely apologize. Until now, I didn''t catch your name¡­ Delier? Very well, Mr. Delier. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I can give you the card, but have you considered how you''ll get the warden to cooperate? He''s a rather¡­ difficult man¡ªdangerous and rude. How about this?"


    Pronto''s brain whirled at the speed of a man caught cheating by his wife. If someone were to place their ear against his head, they might even hear the sound of his brain overwroking; "I''ll accompany you, card in hand, and we''ll go see the warden together. I''ll persuade him to agree to your request.


    After all, you''re asking to vent your anger on people who are already under his control, which is a bit disrespectful to him, don''t you think?"


    Pronto''s words flowed more smoothly as he smiled. "You''ve probably heard that the prisoners call the warden ''King.'' To those inmates, the warden is like their sovereign, and you''re asking to punish his ''subjects.'' So, this will need some tactful negotiation. Fortunately, I have a decent relationship with the warden and should be able to convince him.


    This way, you''ll get your chance to settle the score!"


    Delier hesitated for a moment before finally nodding. "But you''d better hurry. I need to meet Lady Vivian by five this evening. If I''m late, the one in trouble won''t be me."


    "No problem!" Pronto secretly breathed a sigh of relief, handing the card to Delier and then stepping out from behind his desk. "Sit tight for a moment while I make a few arrangements. We''ll be on our way in less than five minutes, and we''ll take my police car."


    Having achieved his goal, Delier decided not to cause any more fuss. He sat at the bar inside the office and, thanks to Pronto''s hospitality, was even served a drink.


    That "five minutes" ended up stretching into nearly fifteen.


    As soon as Pronto left his office, he immediately sought out an old officer he was familiar with. He didn''t dare approach a younger cop¡ªhe knew too well the irritating sense of justice that recent police academy graduates or former soldiers possessed. A police officer needed a sense of justice, yes, but it had to be exercised at the right time.


    People who were always bursting with moral righteousness would only make a mess of things.


    "Have Corder and his crew been transferred yet?" Pronto asked as they descended the stairs to the first floor. The old officer nodded, confirming that Corder and his gang had been gone for about an hour. This answer put Pronto completely at ease.


    From the police station to the district prison, the transport vehicle would need to cross the entire city and then drive another twenty kilometers out of town to reach the prison''s perimeter.


    The transport didn''t move quickly¡ªnot because of bad roads or faulty vehicles, but because of an unspoken rule. Sometimes, along the route to the prison, relatives, friends, or even gang bosses would wait by the roadside to pass along final messages or soothe the inmates. During these informal meetings, it wasn''t uncommon for the police officers escorting the prisoners to receive a few "benefits."


    Cash was the most common gift¡ªsmall amounts like thirty or fifty dollars, sometimes even a hundred. In addition to money, there might also be cigarettes and alcohol. Escorting prisoners could be quite profitable, so the officers would drive as slowly as they could, wishing the trip could take as long as possible.


    By Pronto''s calculations, the transport had only just left the city.


    Pronto looked around cautiously, then lowered his voice. "Go find Gador and tell him there''s been a change of plans. He needs to intercept the transport and beat the hell out of those three guys¡ªmake sure their faces are unrecognizable. You go with him."


    The old officer''s face turned serious as he nodded vigorously. "Got it. Find Gador and make sure those three get beaten beyond recognition. I''ll go with them."


    "Good," Pronto praised. "Just don''t kill them, but make sure no one can recognize their faces. Get him to do it immediately. Afterward, you head straight to the prison. If you see my police car, wait outside."


    "Understood¡ªdon''t kill them, head to the prison, and if you''re there, I''ll wait. If not, I''ll stop the transport." The old officer slightly modified the plan, but Pronto didn''t object.

 Chapter 106: Chapter 106 What Exactly Are You After

    Pronto patted the man''s shoulder, straightened his collar, and dusted him off. "This has to go off without a hitch. Do this right, and Gador will make sure you''re well-rewarded. When old Anders retires, you''d better be ready." exclusive content NovelFire-lempyr


    The old officer shivered. Anders was the chief of one of the four police precincts in Ternell city. While precinct chiefs didn''t wield immense power, this promotion would be a major step up. It meant that one day, he could aspire to become the district police chief.


    Even if he didn''t achieve that, he''d still have considerable authority within his precinct, and power often had a funny way of turning into wealth. For a man nearing middle age like this old officer, power and money were all that mattered.


    Watching the old officer hurry away, Pronto breathed a sigh of relief. He ducked into the records room and kept an eye on the clock, waiting for about ten minutes. After estimating that the old officer had had enough time to contact Gador, Pronto finally stepped out.


    He smiled as he pushed open the door to the chief''s office. "Kept you waiting, didn''t I? Sorry, work''s been crazy. Let''s get going!"


    When Delier got out of the car, he rubbed his backside, suspecting that the bumpy ride had split his rear. He had never seen a road in such poor condition. Besides the endless potholes, the ground was littered with stones of all sizes. While the police car might be sturdy, its comfort left much to be desired.


    Delier felt as if the car was about to take off, making him feel like he was traveling on a road to hell. He glanced at Pronto, who only smiled without saying much.


    They were traveling on a small road, which was longer, bumpier, and harder to navigate, with the clear intention of making Delier uncomfortable. When people feel miserable, the first thing they think of is home, no matter how rundown it might be. The meaning that home holds is entirely different. Comfort, warmth, and coziness seem to define the essence of home.


    After such a stark contrast, Delier might have seen those three brutally beaten men and immediately wanted to leave.


    The warden was just as Delier had imagined¡ªoverweight, with a protruding belly and a bald head. The oily sheen on his face made Delier feel somewhat disgusted. Particularly revolting was the warden''s nose hair, which was clearly visible, with one strand even poking out of a nostril, bobbing up and down as he breathed and spoke.


    Delier felt an overwhelming urge to grab a pair of scissors and trim it for him, as he was a man who liked cleanliness and elegance, someone with a refined, artistic temperament.


    The warden was very amiable, speaking with remarkable politeness, quite unlike the unreasonable person Pronto had described earlier. There was even coffee in his office. Delier had thought that aside from drinking, the warden did nothing else, and for that, he mentally apologized to the man.


    The wait was long. The warden informed Pronto and Delier that the three prisoners, including Corder, had not yet been transferred. As Delier listened to the vulgar and obscene jokes exchanged between Pronto and the warden, he felt like he was about to go insane. How could these men be so shameless as to make jokes about human anatomy? Did they have no sense of shame?


    Just when Delier was on the verge of losing his composure, the clock struck noon, and someone came to report that Corder and his friends were being processed for imprisonment. Delier sighed in relief¡ªfinally, he could proceed with his "duties."


    Before arriving, Julian had told him that no matter who he saw that resembled Corder, they were absolutely not Corder, because Corder was already "closely acquainted with the earth" in Julian''s hands. Delier was to insist that the three people he saw were impostors and report this information back to Mrs. Vivian.


    For this, Julian would pay him a thousand dollars and promise not to hit him for the next month.


    Likewise, if Delier failed, he would lose the thousand-dollar reward and would endure a "friendly" conversation with Julian every weekend for the next month. Whether for the money or to avoid being beaten, Delier resolved that even if the three people before him were the ones who had robbed and beaten him, he would still lie and claim they were not.


    However, Delier overlooked one crucial detail: Julian meant for him to report to Mrs. Vivian, not to make the declaration right there and then.


    When he saw the three men, barely able to stand and supporting each other as they walked past him, Delier felt no excitement, only fear, trembling, and a bone-chilling cold from the depths of his soul! At that moment, he realized that the consequences of what he said to Mrs. Vivian would affect not only Gador but also Pronto, the head of the local police, and possibly even the warden.


    Yet he had no choice but to go through with it, even though he knew full well what the consequences would be.


    "They are not the ones who robbed me, absolutely not!" Delier''s voice was cold and "aloof" as he spoke, like a solitary flower standing against the cold wind and snow.


    Pronto and the warden exchanged glances, remaining silent for a long while. No matter how they examined the faces of the three men, they could not find any resemblance to "humans," let alone think of them as actual people. How, then, had this dandy been able to identify them as the wrong men?


    A dangerous glint flashed in the warden''s eyes. As the sovereign ruler within the prison, he knew that once someone entered its walls, their life no longer belonged to them¡ªit belonged to him. If he wanted Delier dead, he wouldn''t even need to speak.


    A mere glance would suffice, and his subordinates would make a "mistake" in their duties, allowing a prisoner to break free and take Delier hostage, resulting in the tragic "death" of both the captor and the captive.


    Pronto, momentarily tempted, quickly dismissed the warden''s idea. Delier might be insignificant, but behind this flea was a lioness. Crushing the flea would be as easy as the lioness crushing them. Killing Delier was not a difficult task¡ªPronto himself had many ways to make Delier "accidentally" die. But the problem was that Delier had Mrs.


    Vivian''s attention, and if anything happened to him before he returned to her, Pronto would bear the brunt of the responsibility. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Not wanting to jeopardize himself because of the warden''s rashness, Pronto did not support that decision.

 Chapter 107: Chapter 107 Prontos Suspicion

    "Perhaps you made a mistake." Pronto pulled out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, then removed it and slightly raised his hand in a polite, gentlemanly gesture, as if seeking Delier''s approval. Delier shrugged and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his bag as well. Pronto leaned closer, "Look at them¡ªthey''ve been beaten to a pulp. It''s quite normal to mistake them for someone else.


    Did you notice the man with the three moles on his face?" Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Delier followed Pronto''s gaze and saw that one of the men indeed had three moles on his cheek, but he knew full well that these three were not the men he was looking for.


    Seeing Delier''s silence, Pronto tilted his head slightly, and the two of them moved aside.


    "What exactly are you hoping to get from me?"


    If Pronto hadn''t realized there was something amiss by now, he wouldn''t be fit for his position as the police chief!


    Exclusive content from m-vlemp _yr.


    During his time as police chief in Ternell City, Pronto had encountered far more complex individuals than the average person. It was precisely because of his extensive experience and his position in the political arena that he sharply caught on to something¡ªDelier likely didn''t actually know those three men.


    Especially when Delier saw the three disfigured individuals, barely recognizable as human, and yet could immediately declare their identities as false, Pronto understood.


    Delier didn''t know those men, but he knew exactly what to say, indicating that Delier''s desire to "vent" wasn''t his true intention. He must have had another agenda. This realization only deepened Pronto''s confusion. Whether it was extorting him, the regional police chief, or trying to blackmail the gang leader Gador, neither seemed like a good option for someone like Delier.


    Delier couldn''t rely on Mrs. Vivian''s protection forever, and to Vivian, Delier was likely replaceable. Using his life as leverage to extort two people he couldn''t afford to offend¡ªwas he insane, or did he have another plan?


    That''s why Pronto pulled him aside and bluntly asked, "What exactly do you want from me?" The smile disappeared from his face, replaced by a cold, sinister expression. "Whatever you''re after, name your price. This isn''t a one-man game¡ªit takes multiple players to complete the final deal."


    Delier froze for a moment and looked away. "I don''t know what you''re talking about."


    "You do!" Pronto''s tone was harsh, and he let out a cold laugh. "Do you want money? Are you here on behalf of someone whose name can''t be spoken to get someone out? Or have you done something that you need to cover up in this way? Spit it out, and I''ll consider it."


    In this situation, Pronto actually became more cautious the more direct Delier was. Delier''s hesitation, fear, and slight cowardice revealed an opportunity to Pronto.


    He couldn''t afford to offend Mrs. Vivian, but Delier was another matter. Sure, Delier was associated with Vivian, but people in society have different values. Between a regional police chief and an art gallery director, it was obvious who held more weight. If Pronto went too far with Delier, Vivian might take it out on him.


    But anger wasn''t the same as hatred; anger was temporary and would fade with time. Pronto figured he could make up for Vivian''s anger in his own way, but the uncertainty from Delier''s silence tormented him.


    He was desperate to know what Delier was really after.


    Delier''s face twitched. As he felt Pronto''s intense and threatening gaze piercing him, his heart began to race, his body heated up, and his back started to sweat. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. The next second, a great force slammed into him, sending him crashing against the wall.


    With a loud thud, Delier''s face twisted in pain. Pronto grabbed him by the collar and lifted him, pressing him firmly against the wall.


    "My patience is limited, and I don''t enjoy playing guessing games. You can stay silent, but you need to understand where you are. There are at least two thousand filthy men here who can''t wait to tear you apart. I can''t guarantee you''ll walk out of here on your own two feet, and your choice determines everything."


    If the situation was simple, Mrs. Vivian might just say a few bad things about him to the mayor. But if things were more serious, Delier''s statements could cause Pronto to lose something irreplaceable.


    Since that was the case, why not take a gamble?


    Dizzy and aching as if his back had split open, Delier''s face turned pale. The sweat on his heavily made-up face couldn''t stay put and rolled directly onto Pronto''s hand. Gritting his teeth, Delier groaned for about ten seconds before finally shouting, "I''ll talk, let me go, let me go!"


    Pronto released him, stepped back, and took the cigarette from his mouth, placing it between Delier''s lips. "I''m listening."


    Delier nervously took a drag from the cigarette, his trembling hand removing it from his lips. His eyes darted around before he finally said, "I want money, a lot of money..."


    Bang!


    Pronto''s fist slammed into the wall next to Delier''s face. "You''re lying!"


    His judgment was based on two things: First, while Delier''s art gallery might seem prestigious, it didn''t generate much direct profit beyond occasionally teaching students. But Pronto knew that several wealthy women liked to buy "elegant" and incomprehensible art pieces from Delier''s gallery. Those paintings and sculptures might not be to Pronto''s taste, but they sold for staggering sums.


    With those patrons, Delier, as the gallery director, wasn''t short of money.


    Second, trying to extort wealth from either him or Gador with such crude tactics was too low-level and immature. With Mrs. Vivian''s influence, Delier could easily have money sent his way just by her saying a word.


    So Pronto was sure Delier was lying, which only made him more nervous!


    Delier was on the verge of tears. His lips quivered violently as he repeatedly muttered, "It''s true, it''s true!"


    Pronto''s narrowed eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. He was starting to suspect that someone had set a trap for him, and that like a fool, he had walked right into it. His breathing became heavier as he leaned in closer to Delier, their noses almost touching. "I won''t ask who you work for. Once I turn around, I''ll forget everything I''ve said and heard. No matter the outcome, I guarantee your safety."


    Seeing that Delier still refused to speak the truth, Pronto drew his gun and pressed it under Delier''s chin. "You have one minute to decide whether to talk, but once you make your choice, don''t regret it!"

 Chapter 108: Chapter 108 Pronto Extricate Himself From The Game

    Delier''s barely noticeable Adam''s apple made a clear movement as he gulped dryly, torn between his inner struggle.


    To speak or not to speak¡ªthat was the question.


    If he spoke, who knew what that brute Julian would do to him? He certainly didn''t want any marks on his flawless face, nor did he want to endure the beatings that Julian seemed so fond of dishing out every few days.


    But if he stayed silent... the cold metal barrel pressed against his chin made it difficult to breathe. This was a life-or-death situation!


    Faced with the choice between a beating and his life, Delier, as always, chose self-preservation without hesitation.


    He whispered a name¡ªGador!


    Pronto''s eyes lit up instantly. He quickly holstered his gun, and the friendly smile returned to his face. Cheerfully, he started to fix Delier''s clothes, though Delier recoiled in fear.


    Pronto clasped his belly and began apologizing profusely for his rash behavior, though inside, his mind was racing.


    Someone was targeting Gador¡ªthis wasn''t news.


    Ever since Gador had made a name for himself in Ternell City, there had been numerous threats against him, but he was still alive and well, wasn''t he?


    But this time felt different. Pronto immediately thought of how Gador was just one step away from becoming a major player, and perhaps someone didn''t want him to cross that threshold. This wasn''t merely speculation; the upper echelons of society were rife with cutthroat competition, though the methods used there differed from the violence seen among the lower classes. read on NovelFire,em,pyr


    In high society, they wore masks and hid knives in their cloaks, smiling and shaking hands while plunging blades into each other''s chests.


    At the heart of it all was "resources."


    The term "tycoon" might be loosely understood by the common folk as simply "the rich," living lavish lives without a care for money. However, in the elite circles, being a tycoon meant much more than having wealth¡ªit was about political power.


    True tycoons weren''t after money but political resources.


    There were only so many officials and so much power in places like Ternell and Kanros State, which naturally made political resources scarce and highly sought after.


    Take Wood, for example. He was a tycoon, but that didn''t mean his life was one of constant indulgence. No, he actively contributed to the Old Party¡ªsociety''s nickname for the current aristocratic power structure. In exchange for his political donations, he earned the support of political figures, positioning himself to potentially become one of them in the elections two years down the road.


    A politician who wanted to maintain their status couldn''t afford to support just anyone who threw money at them. They needed to make calculated choices, ensuring loyalty and dedication from their supporters. This politician, to the tycoons, represented the very political resources they were fighting over.


    Gador had a powerful boss behind him, which everyone with any sense knew. His boss wasn''t just influential; he had deep political connections. If Gador crossed that final threshold and became a player in the "new game," it would dilute the available political resources. His boss would undoubtedly support him, making him an asset in future elections or political events.


    With the next round of elections fast approaching, it wasn''t impossible that someone, threatened by Gador''s potential rise, would try to prevent him from advancing. After all, even a slim chance of losing a critical supporter couldn''t be ignored. In such a case, the mysterious adversary would do whatever it took to stop Gador, knocking him down before he could take that next step.


    If there even was a next time.


    In that instant, Pronto felt like everything had clicked into place. He cursed himself internally. Why had he meddled in Gador''s affairs in the first place? If Julian wanted to frame Gador, so be it. While there was a chance Pronto might have been caught in the crossfire, it was far better than getting stuck in this elaborate trap.


    Of course, Pronto hadn''t managed to secure his position as police chief in Ternell City by being foolish. He had his own "resources" and at least a reasonably functioning brain.


    He quickly made a decision and breathed a sigh of relief. Things hadn''t yet spiraled into an irreparable situation. In fact, he had every opportunity to cleanly extricate himself from the mess¡ªand it would be Gador who paid the price.


    Pronto immediately grabbed Delier and headed back to Ternell City, waiting for the chance to clear his name.


    When Mrs. Vivian, with a mischievous smile and a healthy flush on her face, stepped out of Delier''s art gallery, she unexpectedly saw both Pronto and Delier standing at the foot of the stairs, their heads lowered. She slowed her pace and stopped when she reached the third step. S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She chose silence, but Pronto couldn''t afford to. He stepped forward and, with his head still bowed, confessed his "mistake" to Mrs. Vivian. "I deeply apologize, madam. The three men arrested, including Corder, were confirmed to be impostors by Mr. Delier.


    This was a failure in my duty, and I must admit to my negligence. I hope you will punish me accordingly."


    Mrs. Vivian glanced down at Pronto with an air of indifference before turning her gaze to Delier. Quick to catch on, Delier explained, "It''s like this, madam. After visiting the regional prison, I realized that the three men were not the ones who robbed and brutally assaulted me. I have already explained this to Chief Pronto."


    Though somewhat irritated, Mrs. Vivian composed herself and asked, "Who sent the men?"


    Pronto stepped forward again, bowing even lower. "It was a citizen named Gador who delivered them. He claimed these three were Corder and his accomplices, the ones who robbed Mr. Delier. So, I¡ª"


    Mrs. Vivian cut him off with a nod, descended the stairs without a word, and climbed into her car, which swiftly disappeared down the street.


    Pronto exhaled deeply, wiping the sweat from his brow. He glanced at Delier, who still looked somewhat fearful, then patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you for your cooperation. I may have a temper sometimes, but I mean no harm."


    Delier''s lips twitched into a crooked smile.


    Later that evening, Mrs. Vivian set down her knife and fork, picked up a neatly folded napkin, and dabbed her full lips. She turned to her husband, who had been quietly eating his meal, and said, "I''ve heard there''s been a spate of robberies on the streets lately. Has the city''s security deteriorated so much?"


    Before the mayor could respond, Mrs. Vivian gave a small smile, leaned forward slightly, and then rose to leave.


    After she left, the mayor put down his cutlery and straightened up. His butler immediately leaned in.


    "Look into it!" he ordered.

 Chapter 109: Chapter 109 Gador Benefactor

    "I have a bad feeling about this," Gador muttered as he paced nervously around the room. He rubbed his eyes, unable to shake the sensation of his eyelids twitching, an omen that something was off. One persistent question nagged at him¡ªwhere had Corder and Kent gone? He had mobilized all of his resources, searching every possible place, but they had vanished without a trace.


    Following Pronto''s instructions, Gador had picked three low-level gang members who were struggling to make ends meet, promising them promotions to captain and a cash reward once they got out. He had also beaten them to a pulp, just as Pronto had demanded. So far, no bad news had come his way. He and Pronto were in this together¡ªif Gador went down, Pronto wouldn''t escape either.


    Without Pronto''s cooperation, there was no way Gador could have gotten away with using three stand-ins to cover for the real culprits.


    But something still didn''t sit right with him. He wasn''t exactly a thinker, and the more he dwelled on it, the more frustrated he became.


    He thought about going to Wood for advice, but Pronto''s private warning echoed in his mind, making him reconsider. Wood had already been "eliminated." The moment he failed to handle this situation properly, his backers would have deemed him unfit. The big players needed effective tools, not ones that caused them headaches.


    Gador had made it this far through his own hard work and his boss''s favor.


    Years ago, he had been nothing more than a low-ranking member of the gang, working with a few other young boys outside a theater, parking cars and cleaning horses for the big shots inside.


    It had been a rainy day when a distinguished man stepped out of his carriage. A servant had opened a black umbrella to shield the man''s face from view, but Gador had caught glimpses of his fine suit, polished boots, and the white scarf draped around his neck. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As the man stepped into a puddle, muddy water splashed onto his pristine boots. While everyone else stood frozen, unsure of what to do, Gador instinctively knelt down and, in the pouring rain, used his sleeve to clean the man''s boots. When he finally looked up, he heard a raspy voice ask him, "What''s your name?"


    Suppressing his excitement, Gador flashed what he thought was his most perfect smile and replied, "Gador. My name is Gador!"


    The man had walked into the theater without another word, leaving Gador stunned. His companions looked at him oddly, but Gador simply waited under the theater''s awning, silently biding his time for the next opportunity.


    On the ninth day, a man in a trench coat and hat approached him, asking him one simple question.


    "Do you have the guts to kill?"


    Gador nodded vigorously. "Yes. A knife right here," he pointed to his chest, "and it''s over in one stroke!"


    The man handed him a slip of paper with two names, an address, and a time.


    Thirteen-year-old Gador had stolen the family''s only kitchen knife¡ªa badly worn one¡ªand spent the night by the well sharpening it. The next day, without resting, he went to the address on the note and waited for the two people who would change his fate.


    That was the day Gador gained a benefactor, and from then on, his rise was unstoppable.


    He wasn''t a thinker, but to the powerful, he was the perfect weapon. His boss had told him that if all went well, two years from now, he would back Gador to become the police chief of Ternell City. But first, Gador needed to clean up his act and groom a suitable, obedient successor.


    Not being much of a strategist, Gador usually did as he was told. After much deliberation, he decided to seek his boss''s counsel.


    An unremarkable car pulled into an alley. Two patrolling officers approached to tell the driver that parking was prohibited, but upon seeing the car''s insignia, they wisely chose to keep quiet and walked away.


    Gador walked through the alley, then crossed two more streets before arriving at a house near city hall. He knocked on the door.


    A white-haired, slightly curly butler in a well-tailored tailcoat with a bow tie opened the door. After giving Gador a once-over, he frowned slightly and shut the door. About three minutes later, the butler opened it again, this time stepping aside to allow Gador to enter.


    As Gador entered the modest house, he removed his hat and held it carefully in his arms. He followed the butler to the garden at the back. There, an old man dressed like a farmer, wearing glasses, was hunched over a potted plant, delicately snipping away at a branch with his shears. Neither the butler nor Gador spoke or made a sound.


    They stood quietly at the edge of the garden, watching as the elderly man worked for nearly an hour before finally putting down his shears.


    "What is it?" the old man asked, removing his dirt-covered gloves and washing his hands in a basin. "You know you shouldn''t be here."


    The raspy voice was the same one Gador had heard all those years ago. Instinctively, Gador lowered his head, drew in his chest, and bent his back, speaking with humility. "There''s something I don''t quite understand, so I''ve come to seek your guidance."


    The old man''s face remained expressionless. Someone of his stature shouldn''t even be meeting with Gador. But over the years, Gador had eliminated enough "unnecessary" people for him that he now occupied his current position. Tilting his head, the old man said, "Speak, I''m listening." As he spoke, he unfastened the buttons on his shoulders and headed toward the wooden door.


    Gador hurriedly stepped aside, following close behind.


    As they entered the study, Gador recounted every detail of the past few days, leaving nothing out. Just as the old man was changing out of his overalls, he froze mid-movement. In an instant, he backhanded Gador across the face, the slap echoing through the entire house. Footsteps could be heard scurrying upstairs as the old man''s expression softened slightly. He motioned toward the study door.


    "Get in here!" he barked.

 Chapter 110: Chapter 110 The Councilor

    The study was rather ordinary, with no rare antiques or priceless collections; just three enormous bookshelves filled with all sorts of books. Some were relatively new, while others had worn covers exposing the linen underneath, used to reinforce the bindings. These hundreds of books were just a small portion of the elderly man''s collection, yet they were the most frequently read.


    He had spent his life reading, meticulously going through every book he deemed valuable and leaving behind detailed notes.


    The elderly man had graduated from a prestigious university with outstanding character and scholarship. He had devoted his entire life to his work, rising and falling several times, and finally, before his retirement, he successfully became a councilor¡ªa councilor of Ternell City.


    The role of councilor was not a recent invention. It existed even during the era of feudal imperialism, though back then, they worked in the "Imperial United Council," often dealing with disputes between nobles and commoners or among nobles themselves. Occasionally, they would address state affairs, but the final word on these matters usually belonged to the emperor.


    After the New Party toppled the Old Party, the roles and powers of councilors and the council underwent massive changes. Considering that the empire was essentially built through prolonged conquests and looting by the Star Empire''s royal family, there were various levels of resistance across the regions.


    Most resisters were former nobility or privileged individuals from previous dynasties who refused to accept a life as commoners. These individuals often stirred up minor disturbances.


    This is where councilors came into play. They acted as the conduit for demands from the grassroots to the upper levels, conveying reasonable grievances from the public to the ears of those in power, prompting adjustments to regional policies. Simultaneously, they were the upper echelon''s means of understanding, controlling, and governing the localities, assisting in enforcing their rule.


    On the surface, the role of councilor seemed service-oriented, yet the power it wielded had expanded immensely over time. Their authority now rivaled, if not exceeded, that of a mayor. In an era when few could afford telegrams, and telephones were novelties in only a handful of cities, this role gave councilors considerable maneuvering space and convenience.


    With the added power to craft policies that governed the empire as a whole, their authority magnified even further.


    The elderly man slowly walked to his rattan chair, settling into it with precision. A quick flash of pain crossed his face before he resumed a composed expression. It was an old affliction; too many hours bent over in the garden left his back sore whenever he tried to straighten up. Oddly, he seemed to enjoy this brief moment of pain.


    "Do you know why I want to hit you?" he asked, taking a pair of copper-rimmed glasses from his chest pocket and polishing them with a piece of leather that could buy a hundred pairs of glasses. His glasses had two legs secured by slender silver strings hanging around his neck, much like many elderly middle-class men.


    Gador lowered his head without a word.


    The elderly man seemed like any other senior citizen. He enjoyed tending to his flowers and plants, spending his limited time caring for motionless greenery, basking in the sun by the window, reading a book... But Gador knew that behind this facade, there was another side to the man¡ªone that was frightening.


    The man wiped his glasses for a while, then positioned them on his nose. He slightly hunched forward, lowering his head as he peered at Gador through the gap between his glasses and the rims. "I knew you wouldn''t understand; you''re as foolish as you were twenty years ago¡ªbeyond saving!"


    Hearing these words, Gador let out a sigh of relief, knowing that he likely wouldn''t face any serious repercussions this time.


    It was an old topic. Twenty years ago, shortly after Gador began serving the elderly man, he had a brief meeting with him. During that meeting, someone had fired three shots at the man, leaving blood on the ground. However, the bullets hit Gador instead. The assassination had nearly sent Gador to meet his maker, but he survived, seizing the second most important opportunity in his life.


    Later in the hospital, the elderly man asked Gador why he had shielded him with his body instead of figuring out the best course of action. Gador, with a foolish smile, replied, "Because I''m stupid. I didn''t know what else to do, so I used my body to shield you."


    The elderly man wasn''t moved by this answer. As he left, he pointed at Gador, who was still bedridden, and from that moment on, Gador rose steadily within the underworld until today!


    Time is a profound mystery, constantly slipping away unnoticed, and as the years pass, yesterday feels like it''s still within reach.


    "Someone is out to get you, setting up a trap. What does it mean if you can''t locate those three people?" the man asked, glancing at Gador before angrily throwing a book at him. "It means those three people are either being controlled or are dead, you fool! Yet you actually followed the advice of Pronto and that Wood, messing everything up. You''re utterly hopeless!"


    The elderly man had spent his life in a world of schemes and deception. Upon hearing Gador''s account, he knew the fool had fallen into a trap.


    He quickly quieted, lost in thought, pondering whether this incident hinted at a deeper objective, perhaps¡­ him! S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It wasn''t improbable. As a former councilor of the Old Party, the situation in Kanros State was far from the peace it appeared to have. The new governor had been at odds with the former governor. Though the old man was now bedridden and unable to sit up, he still held a substantial portion of the province''s power.


    The old governor was Old Party, while the new governor was New Party. Naturally, the new governor wouldn''t tolerate his authority being held by a bedridden old man, leading to multiple confrontations. With the upcoming mid-term election, if the governor started cutting the Old Party''s influence from the ground up, it would pose a significant threat to the Old Party in Kanros.


    Whether the incident involving Gador was an isolated event or part of a larger scheme was worth considering.


    No rational person would take a power struggle lightly; no one ever would.

 Chapter 111: Chapter 111 A Way Out?

    Is there any way to fix this?


    The old man sat with his eyes closed, basking in the sunlight, lost in thought. Dust danced slowly in the air, shimmering in the light, and everything seemed so peaceful. Yet, within him, a storm raged, with no moment of calm.


    Political struggles have always been the cruelest battles, devoid of the smoke of the battlefield or the assault of bullets, but they drag everyone into a whirlpool of endless struggle until they ultimately drown.


    Regardless of whether the opponent is with the New Party, the trap has already been set, and to make matters worse, that fool Gador has already fallen into it. Getting him out of this mess would be relatively easy; it would just require a word with Lady Vivian, swallowing some pride. Lady Vivian would surely give him some leeway and let the matter slide. But would doing this leave behind any clues?


    Would it expose any flaws?


    After carefully weighing the options, the old man decided there might indeed be some issues.


    In political maneuvers, problems don''t come in big or small; a big problem just skips the fermentation period and some necessary means, allowing the opponent to reveal their true intentions directly. A small problem requires time to ferment and the use of other methods to amplify its severity. Either way, it can create the same opportunities that arise from a major issue.


    Where is the problem?


    The problem lies with Pronto!


    This is a criminal case involving robbery and bodily harm. Pronto, eager to appease Lady Vivian and resolve the matter quickly, used certain means to convict three people and imposed appropriate penalties in record time. All of this was done with procedures, which are sometimes prepared for oneself but, more often than not, are prepared for the enemy.


    Once the New Party seizes on the fact that Pronto, the local police chief, abused his power and colluded with gang members to obstruct justice, a small problem will turn into a big one. When the Ministry of the Interior''s investigation team arrives, even if no problem exists, they might create one.


    The more he thought about it, the more the old man admired the person behind this move, who, at a clever and sensitive time, used such an inconspicuous method to subtly alter the entire power structure of Ternell City.


    It''s foreseeable that once Pronto is taken down, those behind him will inevitably have conflicts and divisions, and the New Party will be able to smoothly pry the police chief''s position away from the Old Party''s territory in Ternell City.


    If this crucial role falls into the New Party''s hands, they could use "enhancing public safety" as an excuse to begin purging certain undesirable individuals and matters.


    By that point, all Old Party forces within Ternell City would be affected, potentially triggering an avalanche effect that could influence the upcoming midterm elections.


    The more he thought about it, the more the old man felt he could not afford to get involved. Internally, he had already conceded, a dangerous state of mind, signaling his retreat, though he hadn''t yet realized it.


    Intervening was not feasible. With the speed of telegraph communication, the events unfolding in Ternell City today could be on the front pages of all the Empire''s mainstream media by tomorrow morning. The public and the press had no sympathy for the Old Party, and once public opinion began to stir, the rot within Ternell City''s political system would quickly spread across the entire Empire.


    But if he didn''t intervene, Gador would become a discarded pawn. He knew too much and had handled too many dangerous matters. If he started talking, it wouldn''t just be the old man who suffered; it would implicate every key figure associated with the Old Party in Ternell''s high society.


    The old man opened his eyes at this moment, his gaze dull and murky. He looked at Gador and asked, "Do you still have the courage you had twenty years ago?" Then he added, "Do you still have the guts to gamble with your life?"


    After analyzing and understanding the old man''s words, Gador nodded firmly. "I can do it!"


    The old man nodded with satisfaction. "Good, I like that about you."


    "Pronto is a clever man, and he''s always in control. He must have found a way out, so in this matter, you''ll be the only one to suffer in the end. But you don''t need to be afraid; offending Lady Vivian is not an insurmountable issue. If she goes too far, His Excellency the Governor will step in to advise her. More than three months."


    "Act like you know nothing for now. When Lady Vivian takes action, don''t resist; admit your guilt and explain the situation honestly. They won''t completely destroy you, as you are still my man. Once you plead guilty and serve your sentence, this matter will end. Given your abilities, I''m confident that even if you end up in the local prison, you''ll enjoy privileges others won''t."


    A classic sacrifice, but if a pawn can save more valuable pieces when discarded, then even a sacrificial piece has significant worth.


    After finishing his words, the old man waved his hand, indicating that Gador could leave. He had said all he needed to; the rest was up to Gador to execute. Gador''s expression showed no change as he maintained a respectful demeanor, bowed slightly, took two steps back, and then turned to leave.


    Watching through the window as Gador got into his car and disappeared down the street, the old man called his butler, whispered some instructions, and closed his eyes again.


    It was unclear whether he was pondering a solution or merely resting.


    Sitting in the car, Gador was jolted from his thoughts by the bumps in the road. He clenched his fists, knowing that he was facing the third major crisis of his life. He wasn''t sure if he could survive this one, as no one can always rely on luck in times of danger.


    He understood the old man''s message: continue as he was, clash directly with Lady Vivian, and then spend three months in prison before getting out. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    However, as a gang leader, Gador knew very well that without someone pulling strings on his behalf, that place would be far from pleasant. He could get in, but whether he would come out alive was another matter.


    He was troubled, unsure whether he should heed the old man''s advice and take a risky gamble. Since someone had set him up, they¡ªor some faction¡ªmust have considered all his options.


    He was no longer the man he was twenty years ago, with nothing to lose and the guts to gamble his life.

 Chapter 112: Chapter 112 Follow Protocol

    On this day, a strange event occurred at the Ternell District Police Station. Habitual unsolved cases were suddenly seeing a steady stream of people turning themselves in. These individuals, covered in tattoos and clearly not of the respectable kind, nearly overcrowded the police station. Although their methods varied, they all shared the same goal: getting themselves incarcerated.


    After sending the junior officers out of the room, Pronto handed a cigarette to Gador and lit it for him. The two men smoked silently, neither wanting to break the silence. Perhaps out of a shared understanding of Gador''s situation, Pronto''s mood was somber. Did Gador come to confess some of his crimes out of a sudden moral awakening or a clear conscience? Absolutely not.


    At Gador''s level, even if everyone knew he was guilty, he would somehow remain innocent.


    The reasoning was simple. He had too many subordinates willing to take the fall for him. Like Morris, who had already gone to meet the angels, taking the blame for a gang leader was considered an honorable act and, for some members, the best way to exit the gang. Pronto believed that the moment Gador spoke, there would be a line of people vying for that one opportunity to take the blame.


    Yet, Gador had come in person to confess. He had no choice but to bow his head because the man behind him demanded it.


    "How many more people are you planning to send in?" Pronto asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette as he gazed out the fourth-floor window at the ever-growing crowd of gang members outside, rubbing his temple with some frustration. So far, over sixty people had come forward, a number that was absurdly excessive.


    The local prison was both large and small; if this many people were admitted at once, it was undeniable that aside from the warden, Gador''s influence would dominate the prison.


    Gador sneered, "One hundred."


    Only one hundred, and it still felt insufficient. If it weren''t for the need to maintain the gang''s order and deterrence, he might have considered packing up his entire gang and taking them to prison together. This was the only way he could face the harsh outcome, using numerous members to protect him, at least ensuring he wouldn''t inexplicably die behind bars.


    He had considered leaving Ternell City, escaping this damn trap, but in the end, he rejected the idea. It had taken him years to get this far; how long would it take to start over somewhere else? As the boss said, twenty years was not a short time, but at the same time, it was just a fleeting moment. He didn''t want to struggle step by step from nothing again, so he decided to take a gamble.


    Just as Pronto was about to say something, a familiar figure appeared at the police station''s entrance. He stubbed out his cigarette, turned, and walked over to Gador, patting him on the shoulder. "I''ll be back in a moment."


    Gador said nothing; he just wanted to be alone.


    Pronto left the room quickly and went downstairs to meet the old man. After a brief greeting, he bowed slightly and stood beside the elder. The old man gestured to a nearby corner, and the two walked over one after the other.


    Some onlookers glanced curiously in their direction but soon averted their eyes. The two were speaking, but no one knew exactly what was being said.


    "Yes¡­ yes, I understand¡­ yes, I know what to do," Pronto replied cautiously, bowing continuously to the imposing figure of the elderly butler with a wig and an expressionless face. Relief spread across Pronto''s face. He knew that not long ago, if he hadn''t figured everything out, he might have ended up in ruin alongside Gador. Yet, a sliver of doubt lingered in his mind.


    Whatever the planner behind this scheme intended, what was the point of targeting Gador?


    As it stood, Gador''s boss had simply discarded this piece. What could the mastermind behind the plan do? S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The butler was none other than Gador''s boss''s trusted aide, and his sole purpose for coming here was to sternly inform Pronto that Ternell City remained under effective control, with no dark forces present, let alone any large-scale criminal organizations.


    What did that mean?


    With Pronto''s years of experience as the police chief, he understood that the boss was telling him to "follow protocol." Politics is a fascinating game because every skilled politician knows how to use the most ambiguous language to express their intentions fully without leaving any leverage in others'' hands. What did "follow protocol" really mean?


    Plainly, it meant silencing people, but of course, they couldn''t openly say such things, leaving incriminating evidence behind. In this context, using the term "follow protocol" and the surrounding implications made perfect sense.


    The sudden trap had made the high-ranking figure feel a sense of crisis, prompting him to swiftly eliminate all factors he thought could lead to his downfall. Gador was just one of many¡ªcertainly not the only one. Secrets are never truly safe with people.


    To ensure some secrets stayed buried, leaving them to decay in history, the most reliable solution was to make everyone who knew the secret part of the secret itself.


    A hint of relief appeared on the butler''s rigid face as he slightly bowed and left. Watching the butler leave, Pronto shook his head with a bitter smile. For people of their status, a casual remark from one of these untouchable figures could change their lives entirely. Pronto was a clever man, so he knew the stance he needed to take on this matter.


    He also understood that Gador undoubtedly had crucial evidence and testimony. If he could get his hands on it, not even Gador''s boss could deal with him harshly. However, possessing such evidence wouldn''t bring him any benefits; rather, it would label him a "dangerous man." A police chief who enjoys uncovering secrets is not a good police chief.


    In the lower and middle echelons of society, feigning ignorance and diligently performing one''s duties is the only surefire way to survive.


    With his back to the crowd, Pronto took out his pistol, checked the magazine, and adjusted his clothes before returning to the police station.


    From the moment he stepped inside, it took less than ten minutes before Gador stood by the window. Suddenly, he lost his balance and fell out.


    Falling from over ten meters wouldn''t necessarily be fatal¡ªunless one landed headfirst.

 Chapter 113: Chapter 113 Shaun

    At this moment, Gador was both furious and terrified. He couldn''t believe that Pronto had deceived him into standing by the window, claiming that the boss''s men had arrived, and even more unbelievable was Pronto''s readiness to draw a gun and shoot him without hesitation. The shot wasn''t fatal¡ªa wound to the shoulder rarely threatens a person''s life.


    This was knowledge Gador had gained through countless experiences. He could clearly feel the bullet lodged in his shoulder, and it was the force from that impact that caused him to lose his balance¡ªright at the window''s edge.


    The fear from the tilt and the sensation of hanging in the air made Gador struggle desperately, but it also accelerated his fall from the window. He tumbled out, the wind howling in his ears like the mocking laughter of those high-powered figures who always looked down on him with disdain.


    The ground''s presence grew stronger and stronger, and amidst the frantic rush of wind, he could already smell the faint scent of soil. The next moment, with a sickening thud, everything went silent.


    People watched in horror as Gador''s body, heels pressing against his shattered skull, twisted grotesquely and then collapsed against the ground with a splat. No matter how hard Gador''s head might have been, the moment his heels met the back of his skull, his fate was sealed.


    Blood spattered far and wide, after a moment of dead silence, the crowd erupted into screams and shouts of outrage.


    Gador was dead!


    Pronto approached the window with a stern, indifferent expression, carefully holstering his pistol. He extinguished the last trace of pity from his eyes with ruthless precision, as he internally reviewed the heap of flesh that was Gador on the ground. The remnants of sentiment within him gradually faded away. He felt it wasn''t the boss''s fault, nor was it his own¡ªit was Gador''s fault.


    Gador had failed, hadn''t he?


    "We''re just tools. When a tool becomes uncooperative, it has to be replaced."


    "Didn''t see that coming, did you?"


    The faint sound was like the wind in the moment Gador fell from the window, sending a chill through Pronto. He wondered if Gador had experienced a similar sensation as he fell. A shiver ran up his spine, and his neck stiffened as he instinctively drew his pistol again. But before he could turn around, an arm pressed down on his shoulder.


    He saw a profile¡ªit was Shaun. In that instant, countless thoughts flashed through Pronto''s mind, and his eyes narrowed with a sinister and determined glint. Just as he was about to make a decision, Shaun turned his head and met Pronto''s gaze.


    "Are you trying to frame me?" Shaun smiled. "That could be interesting, you know?"


    Pronto felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. He did indeed have that thought: if Shaun had driven Gador to his death to extract information, it would be the perfect conclusion.


    People would readily come up with a plausible motive¡ªShaun was an agent of the Imperial Security Bureau stationed in Ternell City, and perhaps he saw Gador as a chance to regain a central role, ignoring others opposition and subjecting Gador to brutal interrogation. Faced with Shaun''s ruthless torture, Gador, loyal to his secrets, chose death by jumping out the window.


    Such a scenario would not only clear Pronto of any trouble but would also show the boss that he was genuinely doing his job while pushing Shaun into opposition with some of the boss''s allies. A win-win situation, wasn''t it?


    On the surface, Shaun seemed carefree, spending his days either partying with women or drinking himself into a stupor. But Pronto had never let his guard down around Shaun. He could overlook small transgressions, like Shaun stealing his liquor or taking his joyrides, but when it came to significant matters, he maintained strict vigilance.


    Sometimes, Pronto even wondered if Shaun''s current behavior was genuine or if he was simply biding his time, waiting for the right moment.


    After all, Shaun had once been a prominent figure involved in major affairs. He had been exiled to this backwater, but he certainly wasn''t resigned to his fate. Wouldn''t someone think that Ternell City, a stronghold of the Old Party''s influence, could be the breaking point to breach the Old Party''s defenses across Kanros State?


    It wasn''t impossible. If he could use this opportunity to drag Shaun down, then Shaun''s superiors¡ªif they existed¡ªwould undoubtedly be disappointed in him and eventually discard him, leading him to gradually disappear from public view until he was forgotten.


    The plan had been perfect, at least for a moment, but once Shaun exposed his intentions, Pronto no longer thought so.


    "How could you think such a thing? We''re friends, aren''t we?" Pronto slipped his pistol back into its holster, his smile radiant as if it were a summer blossom reflecting sunlight.


    Shaun patted his shoulder meaningfully and leaned over to look out the window. In that instant, Pronto felt an almost uncontrollable urge to shove Shaun out as well. But he ultimately didn''t dare to do it, because Shaun was indeed different.


    The Imperial Security Bureau was not like other institutions. From the days of the feudal imperial era, the Empire had faced an unspeakable issue: most regions had a tendency to break free from central control, becoming semi-independent but without formally declaring independence.


    The nobles power had grown so strong that each lord ruled a territory, with some of these Lords tracing their lineage back five or six hundred years.


    During such long reigns, the people living under noble rule often recognized the nobles as their legitimate authority rather than the emperor. To change this situation, which had begun to alarm the royal family, the predecessor of the Imperial Security Bureau was established¡ªthe Imperial Emergency Special Operations Unit. Officially, this unit handled disaster relief and prevention.


    However, its real purpose was to monitor the nobles. If any noble displayed signs of rebellion or separatism, the unit was tasked with assassinating them as quickly as possible. Over its century-long history, the unit carried out many missions, including the infamous incident involving the Duke of Gewaren.


    According to the newspapers and official accounts, the Duke and his family went on a trip shortly after a rainstorm and were caught in a landslide, leading them all to meet their end.


    The Special Operations Unit saved the Duke''s grandson from the disaster. In the following twenty years, the grandson, known for his vices, died young, bringing an end to the Gewaren lineage. Whatever the truth was no longer mattered; what mattered was that this department''s reputation had long since instilled fear in the hearts of many powerful figures.


    After the New Party''s "uprising," the Imperial Emergency Special Operations Unit wasn''t disbanded but was instead absorbed entirely by the Imperial Security Bureau, leading to speculation that the so-called "uprising" had the tacit approval of the emperor and the royal family. Their goal was to change the increasingly precarious situation and prevent the Empire from collapsing.


    As previously stated, the truth was irrelevant; what mattered was that Pronto knew he could never touch Shaun, no matter how despicable Shaun might be.


    If Shaun died, the Security Bureau wouldn''t send another person; instead, they might send in a "cleaner."


    S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 114: Chapter 114 Gadors Death

    Meanwhile, neither Pronto nor Shaun noticed the figure across the street from the district police station. Standing near a lamppost, dressed in a trench coat and wearing a bowler hat, he silently turned away, blending into the crowd and disappearing without a trace.


    That person was Julian.


    He let out a long sigh. Gador''s death was somewhat unexpected. In Julian''s view, a ruthless man like Gador, who specialized in dirty work for powerful figures, wasn''t supposed to meet an untimely end so easily.


    In the underworld, he had handled everything with cruelty and bloodshed, while in high society, those bigwigs, though they looked down on him, also feared him because he knew too many secrets that weren''t meant to be known.


    For example, last year a mid-tier actress had died, reportedly from a horse-riding accident where she fell off a small slope and was trampled by the horse, resulting in her death. The report was impartial and didn''t show any obvious bias, but that wasn''t the true scene of the incident.


    The real location was the basement of a certain magnate''s estate, where the actress died after being unable to endure the abuse. Gador took care of the aftermath.


    Logically, even though they were all part of the "Old Party," they had different positions and shouldn''t have used another''s subordinates for such matters. After all, it would risk exposing their own secrets. However, this world was different from the one Julian had dreamed of, the social system shaped different perspectives.


    Here, they believed that having one or two "dirty hands" was sufficient, and when necessary, eliminating those hands could sever all connections and protect the secrets.


    Moral and ethical values played a role, too. Even if they used Gador for their dirty work, they didn''t have to worry about him speaking out. Otherwise, it wouldn''t be them cleaning up Gador, but his own boss. Of course, no one would actively harm Gador, either. Despite differences in values and ethics, one thing was certain: the greater the power, the more intense the suspicion and paranoia.


    If someone had silenced Gador, how would others perceive it?


    It could even be explained as a "collusion case," where the ruling class of the entire city had become corrupt, blatantly trampling the law while simultaneously upholding it. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    So, from Julian''s perspective, Gador, no matter how lowly, shouldn''t have been silenced so swiftly. Julian had anticipated that Gador would spend some time in prison, then die unexpectedly, as they had always done. The current approach seemed a bit too crude.


    Nevertheless, the deviation wasn''t too far off¡ªGador was dead, wasn''t he? That meant Wood was now unprotected, allowing Julian to continue moving forward, pursuing his path toward the light!


    Gador''s death had a far greater impact within the gang than in society. Some advocated avenging Gador, surrounding the district police station and brandishing weapons, shouting for vengeance. Others argued for stabilizing the gang first and seeking revenge against Pronto later. Regardless of their stance, their motives were selfish, each with their own agenda.


    Gador''s death didn''t mean the end of the gang. Whoever could take Gador''s place would inherit everything he had.


    As those high-powered figures would say, when a tool doesn''t function properly, just replace it.


    The power, prestige, and opportunity for advancement were things every ambitious gang member craved, so chaos naturally ensued.


    Arguments.


    Insults.


    Shoving.


    Brawls!


    Wood paced anxiously in his room, rubbing his hands together as if trying to wash away dried blood, just like he had after his first kill when he hid in a dark corner, trembling with fear. He kept glancing at the door every time he heard footsteps approaching, only to quickly lower his head again.


    He wanted to get out of there. He didn''t want to go down with these crazed men. The moment someone suggested attacking the district police station and gained some support, Wood realized things had gone terribly wrong. Was the district police station that easy to bully? Was Pronto, that sly old fox, easy to provoke?


    That man could smile and joke, but the moment you turned your back, he''d stab you without hesitation.


    Wood''s career was over, but he wasn''t ready to gamble his life. Just as he made up his mind to leave, there was a knock on the door.


    Cautiously, he picked up a flower vase from the table, filled with water to increase the impact if he had to swing it. He positioned himself beside the door, not behind it, knowing full well that people often liked to kick doors open, making standing behind them a dangerous choice.


    "Who is it?" he asked.


    A somewhat unfamiliar voice answered from outside, "No one knows what to do right now. You were close to the boss, and we''re hoping to get some advice from you."


    Wood didn''t open the door. After a moment of silence, he replied, "Sorry, I don''t even know what to do myself, so I can''t offer any help."


    "Alright then," the voice said, sounding disappointed. Footsteps grew fainter until they faded away.


    Wood put down the vase, having made up his mind: if he didn''t leave now, it would be too late. He knew these gang members weren''t civilized, let alone gentlemen. If they had already taken an interest in him, they''d come back, and it wouldn''t be just one or two people; it would be a group. Once they "persuaded" him, escaping would become nearly impossible!


    He changed his clothes, pressed his ear against the door, and listened for a while to ensure no one was outside. Then he gently unlocked and opened the door. The hallway was empty, though the noise of arguments came from the lobby downstairs.


    The gang members still didn''t know what to do. Gador''s "dictatorship" had indeed made governing the gang easier, but now that he was gone, the gang was falling apart. Wood tiptoed past the staircase and made his way to a second-floor window on the west side. Outside was a drainpipe and plenty of vines, leading down to a lawn adjacent to the manor and less than thirty meters from the gate.

 Chapter 115: Chapter 115 You Must Have Money

    He climbed out the window, carefully descending the vines and drainpipe. Once he reached the ground, his pounding heart finally began to calm down. Dusting himself off and lowering his hat brim, he headed toward the gate. Outside, many people and cars were gathered, their expressions a mix of anxiety, hatred, and uncertainty about the future.


    Gador had been a successful leader, but not a suitable head, which was why the gang was now in such disarray.


    His departure went unnoticed. With the boss dead, everyone was too preoccupied with their own thoughts and actions to care about what anyone else was doing, which explained the bickering and divisions.


    Wood slipped away, and as he reached the sidewalk, he felt as if he had just stepped into a new world. He glanced back at Gador''s grand estate, shook his head slightly, and with a vague smile that hinted at something undefinable, began walking away. Though he had lost, he still had money. He could retire somewhere else, leave Ternell, and even Kanros, to start anew.


    A smile lingered on his face¡ªuntil he heard someone speak.


    "Julian sends his regards!"


    Wood hands were already trembling, much like a drained, deflated sack once filled with barley. One hand pressed against his abdomen, where a steady stream of warmth gushed into his palm. He looked down, and the sight of bright red blood met his eyes. Stumbling a step or two, he grasped a nearby lamppost, leaving a twisted, gruesome red handprint on the gray pole. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Oh, my God, what happened to you?" A woman in a blue dress and a pale yellow sun hat stood a short distance from Wood, covering her mouth in shock. She screamed, "Someone, help! This man is hurt!" Soon, people of all sorts gathered¡ªbeggars, barely clothed homeless people, and well-dressed professionals in suits.


    Their curious, satisfied, or surprised gazes focused on Wood, but no one stepped forward to tell him what to do or to help the unfortunate soul.


    The more blood flowed, the weaker his body became. His feeble legs struggled to maintain the last shred of dignity, but his muscles, suffering from severe blood loss, refused to obey. He slid down the pole and collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his mouth. His body convulsed slightly, eliciting gasps from the crowd, which began to disperse in confusion.


    The spasms grew more frequent, and the intervals between the crowd''s gasps shortened. These were complex reactions processed by the central nervous system, but the knife wound in his abdomen, which had torn apart the muscle tissue, rendered all responses futile.


    He felt cold, and his vision grew blurred and dim, like a newborn child entering this world¡ªnaked, cold, and helpless.


    A young man stood among the crowd, indifferently watching Wood''s now still body. He lowered the brim of his hat and disappeared into the pulse of the city with the other spectators, who dispersed once there was no spectacle left to watch.


    Wood was dead. The onlookers sighed, seemingly mixed with a hint of satisfaction, then quickly dispersed, leaving only the lifeless body of a wealthy man in the street.


    As the news of Wood''s death spread throughout the city.


    When Gador was forced to jump to his death, choosing to die to keep secrets.


    Another name began to circulate among the upper echelons of society alongside these two figures¡ªJulian.


    Every action had a clear target, and although the target might be misleading, the executor would never get it wrong. Therefore, some people never wasted time observing the artificial facade, instead, they saw past the false cover and targeted the true beneficiary.


    As mentioned earlier, all planned actions¡ªeven some unconscious ones¡ªwere beneficial to the individual. Wood was dead, and Gador was dead. Who then reaped the most benefit from these two events? Was it Gador''s subordinates? Wood''s subordinates? Or perhaps some tycoon or a boss?


    None of them!


    The beneficiary''s name was Julian, a once ordinary figure a month ago, now someone people would remember¡ªJulian.


    He had climbed to the pinnacle of life by stepping over Wood''s corpse, accomplishing in less than a month what had taken many others half their lifetime. However, he still lacked a crucial identity, a key that would grant him entry into the higher echelons of society¡ªhis stance.


    Stance did not refer to his occupation or his attitude, but to his political position.


    New Party?


    Or Old Party?


    Everyone was watching him, waiting for his final decision.


    "We are businessmen!" Julian pounded the table with his knuckles. When he returned to the newly renovated corner store, the room was filled with excitement from the members of the hometown association and the newly renamed "Southern Star Empire" Trading Company.


    Ever since Julian had visited the slums, a legend that might seem laughable to outsiders had spread among the Guar people. The legend initially circulated among elderly Guar women and gradually gained acceptance.


    "The Resurrection of the Guar King" was the core of this legend. The elderly women, using their rich life experiences, crafted a story in which King Alderrow returned from the realm of the dead, tore apart the decayed veil, and created a new world where all Guar people lived happily.


    Julian saw the story as a metaphor for himself, especially the first time he heard it. He simply laughed it off, knowing it wouldn''t harm his reputation or his standing among the Guar people, right?


    Driven by the legend, many considered joining Julian as a promising path. Had he not requested to avoid absorbing too many Guar people, the room might already have been too crowded.


    The young faces were filled with excitement and a reverent expression, almost like pilgrims. Wood was dead, and Gador was dead; all threats to Julian had been swept away. Nothing could now stand in the way of his rise, and they, being part of it, felt proud, exhilarated, and full of vitality.


    "I must emphasize, we are businessmen, not gangsters, not thugs. We are law-abiding citizens, legitimate subjects of the Star Empire!" Julian said, pacing back and forth before speaking again, "Our happiness should not be built on fear. Fear only brings resistance and destruction, but respect can make us eternal. Today, I will share the key to achieving this."


    "And that is..." He paused to draw everyone''s attention before smiling and saying, "You must have money!"

 Chapter 116: Chapter 116 Meeting Of The Illicit Alcohol Tycoons

    People always talk about successful individuals as if they were born with some extraordinary quality that sets them apart. However, the reality is different. Charisma and a sharp mind are, in fact, built upon the recognition of wealth by society.


    We often praise a particular entrepreneur for being bold, but we overlook the ninety-nine others with the same boldness who end up searching through trash piles for food after losing everything.


    We acknowledge the successful entrepreneur¡ªbehind whom lies the numbers representing status and wealth. The bigger those numbers are, the more firmly we affirm our belief in him.


    So, no matter what Julian says, in the eyes of those whose numbers are smaller than his, he is always right because he succeeded. We always believe in the successful because we have not yet succeeded ourselves.


    That is the goal, that is the example!


    Batch after batch of illicit alcohol was packed into sturdy wooden crates and loaded onto trucks. The trucks, filled to the brim, raced along the city streets, transporting low-proof liquor that, when poured out, turned into cash. More and more low-proof liquor gathered here, and more and more money flowed into Julian''s bank account.


    It''s worth mentioning a small anecdote here. Some people constantly reminded Julian that the Imperial Central Bank was unreliable because it was run by Ordinians. They suggested he should hide his money in a cellar.


    Well, that''s just a joke.


    The successful influx of high quality illicit alcohol into the market made life difficult for two other figures.


    In a quiet restaurant, there were only six people: two attendants, two bodyguards, and two tycoons.


    Ernst sat elegantly at one end of the long table, cutting his steak with grace. The quality of the steak was incomparable to the food consumed by the lower classes. While cows might be cheap, there were exclusive, expensive breeds meant only for nobles and capitalists.


    These cattle ate better than some middle-class families, and to ensure the fat was perfectly distributed within the muscle, each high-quality Wagyu cow had a team of at least three people to care for it.


    They fed the cattle expensive fruits and even other quality beef to increase the amino acid content in the meat, making it tastier. They also gave the cows regular massages to evenly distribute any excess fat throughout the meat. Of course, the cows needed exercise, too. Their daily life resembled that of noble lords, pampered and attended to, until they were finally served on someone''s plate.


    A nearly perfect steak like this cost around sixty to seventy dollars per pound, and for premium cuts, the price could exceed a hundred.


    Ernst, like a connoisseur, patiently cut a slightly charred piece of steak with a pink center, using a silver fork to pierce the meat. A hint of pink juice oozed out. He leaned forward carefully, stretching his neck to place the morsel into his mouth, nodding as he chewed.


    Glancing at the man across the table, he swallowed the meat and raised his fork and knife. "Aren''t you going to try some? It''s very fresh¡ªslaughtered just this morning."


    Carrell''s upper lip twitched twice, making him look somewhat ridiculous. His expression was stern and grim, with a chilling glint in his eyes. He lowered his gaze to the plate of steak emitting a tempting aroma and then crumpled his napkin into a ball, throwing it onto the table.


    "I don''t understand how you can eat. Don''t you know our market share is shrinking? Our daily profits are declining. We should stop that madman; at the very least, we can''t let him continue running wild!"


    Carrell was referring to the recent price cuts of the "Snow Elf" and "First Love" liquors. Though each bottle''s price had dropped by only fifty cents, it was enough to make more bars favor these two brands over high-proof illicit liquors. On one hand, the premium quality came with a mid-range wholesale price, and on the other, word of mouth from customers was rapidly spreading.


    More and more bars were falling under Julian''s influence. Bars were cash cows, and their owners didn''t care about unwritten rules; they only cared about profit and market demand.


    Ernst, due to his complex background, wasn''t too concerned about the gains or losses from illicit liquor. Or rather, he maintained his composure because he was confident he would outlast everyone else. But Carrell didn''t share that sentiment.


    Recently, as profits declined and expenses soared, he had already received warnings in a joking manner. If contributions continued to decrease, they would consider supporting someone else.


    With the midterm elections approaching, the competition had already begun. While most ordinary people saw only the fierce "battles" in the one or two months leading up to the election, they were unaware that preparations had started a year or two in advance.


    Faced with Carrell''s questioning, Ernst shrugged, setting down his fork and knife and looking seriously at Carrell. "Do you know how many rulers this city has seen come and go since it was founded?" Without waiting for Carrell to answer, Ernst answered his own question, making a gesture with his hand. "Countless¡ªyes, countless. The successful leave behind names, while the failures leave behind bones. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Nothing remains unchanged forever."


    "No, this is different! I will not allow anyone to take away everything I have now, absolutely not!" As Carrell was about to stand and leave, a commotion erupted behind him. The quiet restaurant grew slightly noisy, and the door, which was supposed to remain closed, was pushed open.


    The two attendants barely had time to react before straightening up¡ªsharp blades were pressed against each of their necks.


    A young man, tall and upright, walked in wearing a white suit. With his head held high, he casually removed his hat and handed it to someone beside him, then strode confidently toward the table. At that moment, Carrell''s bodyguard tried to stop the intruders but found a gun pressed against his head.


    The man in the white suit pulled out a chair and placed it in the middle of the long table. He snapped his fingers, and one of the attendants stumbled backward and was pushed to his side.

 Chapter 117: Chapter 117 Looking Beyond The Established System

    "Bring me a medium-rare steak, thank you!" The young man smiled, then leaned on the table with both hands, adopting an aggressive, oppressive posture as he looked at Ernst and Carrell. "Allow me to introduce myself!"


    He smiled and said, "My name is Julian!"


    The atmosphere of silence seemed cool and detached, but in truth, it was quite the opposite. Those who were well-prepared felt justified and calm, while those caught off guard felt a pang of worry and unease.


    Carrell kept signaling to Ernst, clearly indicating that the current situation was not unfolding as he had anticipated.


    Amidst the silence, a waiter approached, carrying a plate of steak which he placed in front of Julian, along with two sets of cutlery¡ªone for the steak and another for a small side dish that accompanied it.


    The subject of dining etiquette could easily fill an academic tome. The nobles'' obsession with detail made their daily routines grueling in the eyes of commoners. After all, just getting dressed each day took around two hours, and if attending a grand banquet, even longer. Hardly as straightforward as the lives of ordinary folk!


    For the nobles, however, their strict adherence to these rules of speech and behavior was a means to distinguish "nobles" from "peasants" in this new era. By following these rules with increasing rigor, they seemed to derive a sense of superiority, particularly when they cast a disdainful yet pitying smile toward the commoners, watching them wolf down their food and wipe their mouths.


    A bemused glance to the person beside them conveyed their unspoken sentiment:


    "Look, this is a peasant!"


    While many of the nobles'' rules might seem trivial, people loved to imitate them. Everyone wanted to be part of the elite, a circle with a certain allure that attracted those who saw themselves as successful.


    People often criticize mainstream symbols, like power, money, and social class, but simultaneously envy those who possess them. This contradiction is what people in another world might call "class envy." It isn''t just wealth they envy but everything they themselves lack.


    This was a high-end restaurant, catering exclusively to those of status, though Julian was unaware of this. So, he simply chose the larger, more convenient utensils to eat with. He clumsily sliced into the steak, spearing a sizable piece of meat on his fork and stuffing it into his mouth, chewing a few times before swallowing and nodding in satisfaction.


    The flavor was far better than any steak he had ever tasted. He''d never encountered anything so delicious. Pausing slightly, he turned to the waiter and asked, "Where is this steak from?"


    The waiter smiled with impeccable poise, flashing eight pristine teeth that gleamed faintly under the lights. "This is Wagyu beef, sourced from one of the few exclusive ranches within the Empire. It''s incredibly rare and expensive. The portion you''re enjoying costs sixty-eight dollar, sir."


    Julian whistled. Sixty-eight dollar¡ªhow many bottles of wine would he have to sell to earn enough for a single meal? The cost of the wine on the table and the dishes in front of these two prominent figures far exceeded his imagination. After all, he had once gnawed on bread harder than stone, needing to sprinkle it with water and warm it by the fire just to make it chewable.


    Such extravagance! He sighed and continued to devour the unevenly cut steak.


    "Don''t you two have anything to say?" Julian asked, chewing with bits of meat and juice flying from his mouth.


    Carrell watched Julian with a cold expression, but Ernst broke the silence. After frowning and observing Julian for a while, he hesitantly asked, "You''re... that man from the other day, the one that i payed one dollar right?"


    Julian''s attention shifted to Ernst, and he nodded cheerfully. "I remember now. Since we''re acquainted, it makes it easier to discuss what I came here for." After finishing the last of the steak and wiping his mouth, he leaned back in his chair. "Wood is dead, but someone still needs to take his place. I know you have certain arrangements and agreements with others."


    "I intend to honor those agreements!"


    Julian had already thought this through before coming here. The rules of the game, as established by the bosses, were not something he could disrupt just yet. If he didn''t want to end up as another unlucky soul meeting an untimely end in some dark alley, he needed to learn to play by the rules.


    People needed stability, whether it pertained to public order or the market.


    Ernst dabbed his lips with a napkin, folding it carefully on the table''s edge. His expression turned thoughtful, while Carrell''s cold demeanor softened slightly. This was promising; if Julian was willing to follow the rules, they might be willing to compromise.


    As both of them focused on him, Julian spoke slowly. "The market is limited. To me, Ternell is a large city, but to you, it probably isn''t much. There are far more prosperous cities out there. Compared to them, Ternell is practically a slum."


    "They need us to compete, but in a way that remains manageable. I''m prepared to respect this rule, but beyond that, I believe we can attempt something different¡ªsomething that allows us to break the wealth cap imposed on us without breaking the rules."


    "We can continue to compete for the limited market within Ternell City. Allow me to call it ''limited,'' but I think our focus should be beyond Ternell, on larger cities like Aul Aldo, or others. That''s where the real opportunity lies."


    Ernst raised his hand, resting his chin thoughtfully, intrigued by Julian''s suggestion.


    After all, who could remain indifferent to the prospect of more money?


    "Tell us more about your proposal."


    The three men seated here were no fools. While their experiences and perspectives might lead them to view the situation differently as it progressed, their understanding of the underlying truths remained essentially the same.


    Julian''s brief remarks had already piqued Ernst''s interest and convinced them that he truly understood the rules of Ternell City. The powerful figures who loomed high above, like gods in the clouds, manipulated Ternell like a chessboard. They didn''t want to see any overly consolidated group grow strong enough to challenge them. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At the same time, they disliked cutthroat competition that pushed factions to the brink. Thus, they established a controlled system of competition within acceptable limits.

 Chapter 118: Chapter 118 Beyond Ternel

    Under such a system, everyone in the city, every faction, was like a carefully measured component in the grand machine of Ternell, ensuring nothing malfunctioned internally.


    Julian''s idea was straightforward: since breaking out of the higher ups'' control from within was impossible, why not work within the system while finding an alternative path to carve out a different road?


    As Julian continued, he proposed that the three parties should continue competing within Ternell according to the established rules. But beyond Ternell, they should join forces to seize wealth in more prosperous places.


    Bootleg liquor was like an unconventional, tangible currency in circulation; anywhere, anytime, as long as you had a bottle of high proof smuggled liquor, you could easily trade it for cash. The moment those potent spirits were bottled, their market was guaranteed.


    The three men discussed forming a new company solely for "external" trade, and Ernst and Carrell listened closely, agreeing with Julian''s vision. Once their bootleg liquor spread across Kanros State, they would amass unimaginable wealth. Naturally, any gain comes with risks, which correlate directly with the rewards.


    Local stakeholders would certainly dislike the introduction of new products disrupting their already stable market. This wasn''t about a few coins¡ªit was a commercial battle involving thousands. Under Julian''s persuasion, both agreed to contribute funds and personnel as a guarantee for entering other markets.


    But one issue remained unresolved: the distribution of shares.


    Julian demanded at least 51% ownership in this trading company. He wasn''t fixated on absolute control; this wasn''t a legitimate business, and having the largest share could make him the most accountable if things went south. He based his demand on current market shares, as his product sold best and held the largest market share.


    Carrell objected strongly to this. In Julian''s proposal, Julian held 51%, Ernst took 30%, and Carrell was left with only 19%, which he found unacceptable. Why should he get the smallest share when they were all putting in equal effort?


    Ernst, however, remained silent. He felt that earning 30% was already profitable, and his primary income didn''t come from bootlegging. As mentioned before, no one is indifferent to wealth, including Ernst. While not his main income source, bootlegging was still lucrative. Therefore, he had no objections to a 30% share.


    Carrell was the only dissatisfied one, perhaps not yet realizing that sometimes the strength of one''s voice has little to do with physical size.


    The intense discussion sparked Julian''s hunger once more. After all, he was still a young man, in a growth phase. A single steak might be enough for an adult like Ernst or Carrell, but for a young man needing ample nutrition, it wasn''t sufficient.


    "Bring me another one, the same steak as before," Julian said, glancing at the waiter. His gaze faltered momentarily.


    In the next instant, he grabbed the waiter''s tie and yanked it down hard, slamming the waiter''s head into the table, colliding with the plates that hadn''t yet been cleared. A loud crash echoed, some shards cutting the waiter''s cheek and leaving traces of blood on the table.


    "I don''t like the way you look at me," Julian said, picking up a fork and gripping it tightly. "I know what you''re thinking, but I don''t like your thoughts or your gaze. You should have hidden it better so I wouldn''t notice, but you failed." The waiter trembled, keeping his mouth tightly shut.


    Yes, it was the waiter''s gaze that unnerved Julian. It was a look of disdain, a silent arrogance that made him feel judged.


    He was looking down on Julian.


    The contempt and scorn in his eyes were almost palpable. The first time, Julian chose to ignore it, as he was now a "man of importance," with no need to spar with a mere waiter over such matters. But a second offense would change things. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian released his grip on the fork embedded in the waiter''s shoulder, giving a slight nod. Dave stepped forward immediately. "Teach him how to be a decent, upright person," Julian instructed, taking a napkin to wipe away a few droplets of bright red blood, no longer sparing a glance at the waiter, whom Dave was now dragging by the hair out of sight.


    He shrugged, spreading his hands. "Everyone''s told me this place is excellent, but I think it falls short¡ªthey haven''t yet learned what it means to be a proper waiter." In the corner, the waiter''s pained cries and the sounds of blows rang out. "Now, back to our previous topic¡ªthe matter of share distribution¡­"


    After a prolonged discussion, an agreement was finally reached.


    Carrell stormed off, seething with his 23% share, while Ernst shook Julian''s hand with a smile, inviting him to visit his home. Then he courteously took his share and left.


    Watching them walk away, Julian''s face finally broke into a broad grin. Hands in his pockets, he glanced back at the waiter lying on the floor, gasping, too weak to even cry out, and nodded approvingly.


    "Give him some money for medical expenses. He''s learned his lesson."


    A boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen, wearing a flat cap, walked over, pulling about ten dollar from his pocket and scattering them over the waiter''s bloodied face.


    ...


    "Mayor, you must address this matter!" Ernst and Carrell sat in the mayor''s office, pouring out their grievances.


    The mayor, previously known as the Chief Administrator before the New Party''s reforms, now held extensive authority. Apart from the military, nearly everything within Ternell City was within his purview, allowing him to have the final say on all major and minor affairs.


    Peter Turner gazed calmly at Ernst and Carrell, showing no partiality. After listening to Carrell''s complaints, he had pieced together the situation: Julian''s bootleg liquor business was undercutting Carrell and Ernst''s profits, driving them here for help. Far from sympathetic, Peter even felt a touch of satisfaction.


    "Whenever people outside spoke of the ''Three Giants of High-Proof Alcohol'' in Ternell, Peter felt no pride in controlling them¡ªonly concern."

 Chapter 119: Chapter 119 The Importance Of Internal Competition For The Higher-Ups

    How was the Star empire nobility overthrown by the New Party? After suffering military defeat, they failed to notice as the New Party amassed strength and ultimately toppled the long standing nobility. While comparing three petty criminals in a small city to a national revolution might seem excessive, the dynamics were the same.


    The Three Giants had developed a deep understanding over time, maintaining strict boundaries without ever crossing them.


    Years of co-existence had brought peace to their "war," especially in the past two years, during which Wood, Carrell, and Ernst had avoided even minor clashes. This was a dangerous signal, implying a level of coordination and unity among the three that was far too high.


    Just as rulers dread seeing alliances form among subordinates, Peter feared witnessing the Three Giants align in a defensive alliance.


    This sign was dangerous; if they accumulated enough power and outward aggression, they might soon try to alter the political landscape of Ternell. So even if Wood hadn''t died outside Gador''s estate, Peter would have found a way to target one of the giants and bring someone new to power.


    Only by keeping sufficient pressure on them and ensuring internal competition could the upper echelons intervene in the lower society.


    Before Peter could take any action, however, Wood was already dead, and a new giant¡ªJulian¡ªhad emerged. This was a blessing, just as now.


    In hindsight, it had been a long time since either Carrell or Ernst sought his help. He owed Julian gratitude for injecting fresh vigor into the stagnant bootleg market and creating positive, competitive changes.


    This was something Peter truly appreciated.


    Just consider the late Wood.


    Each year, Wood donated a hefty portion of his earnings as political contributions to prominent figures, his intentions clear: to secure an official "position." If Wood, Carrell, and Ernst obtained their desired standing, they''d occupy a substantial part of Ternell''s political landscape, forming an old-party faction to rival existing powers¡ªa disturbing scenario indicating a loss of control. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Our Mayor Peter had no desire to see this happen.


    Now the problem was resolved, and without Peter''s intervention. Julian had rid him of a fool like Wood, intensifying competition.


    Peter raised a hand, stopping Carrell''s curses and complaints. "It''s not appropriate for me to blatantly interfere with business matters; such affairs fall outside my jurisdiction. Besides, I don''t see a need to intervene." He crossed his legs, continuing, "Internal competition promotes evolution.


    When the Ordinian Star Empire was founded many years ago¡­" Peter chuckled, shaking his head, stopping mid-sentence. Not because he didn''t want to continue, but because it wasn''t necessary.


    Neither Carrell nor Ernst had received a noble''s elite education, so what Peter wanted to express might be hard for them to grasp¡ªor perhaps the mayor felt that silence conveyed his position just as effectively.


    His stance was clear: "I''m not getting involved, so don''t come to me for this."


    Carrell, huffing in frustration, dragged Ernst out after a hasty farewell to the mayor, storming out of the office. Through the window, Peter watched Carrell dive into his car and drive off from city hall, a faint smile tugging at his lips.


    This was exactly what he wanted¡ªto keep them entangled with one another, ensuring easier governance.


    Meanwhile, Julian was preparing to return home. With a new plan signed with the other two "giants," the next steps involved a flurry of bootlegging and transporting the excess products to other areas. But first, he needed to head home.


    It had been over two months, nearly three, since he left. Mr. Kesma''s words still lingered in his ears, urging him to return and show off his success. Julian was young, and with youth came a healthy dose of vanity¡ªhe wanted to flaunt his achievements.


    The car he had acquired from Wood, now restored and polished to a mirror shine, satisfied Julian as he took his seat. Leaving city affairs in the hands of Dave and Ellis, he set off on his first trip back, accompanied by two familiar associates.


    People are always drawn to their roots, often recalling their home, loved ones, and even whether the vegetables around the house have grown as lushly as they were before they left. Bumpy roads stirred his thoughts and emotions, immersing him in memories of home throughout the journey, though he hadn''t been away long.


    As the car slowed to a halt, the slight jolt awoke him. Gazing at the familiar streets and the gathering crowd, a faint smile played on his lips. The young man in the passenger seat stepped out, opening Julian''s door and ushering him out. With solid footing on home soil under warm sunlight, Julian''s face lit up with a long-lost smile.


    "Isn''t that¡­ Kesma''s youngest?" someone exclaimed, recognizing him.


    Julian had transformed, hardly resembling the person who had left home months before.


    "What''s going on here? Move aside, move aside!" Mason pressed one hand on the pistol at his waist and the other on the police cap atop his head, pushing through the dense crowd. Every now and then, someone would jab him with an elbow, though he couldn''t tell who it was.


    Never underestimate the cunning and tenacity of country folk; the noble notion of simple, honest farmers only exists in the fanciful paintings of artists. The countryside was no idyllic paradise.


    Finally, Mason managed to push his way to the center, clutching his chest, having lost his hat in the process. He shot a glare at the onlookers, retrieving his hat from a young girl with a cheerful, freckled face who handed it back with a polite "thank you."


    The Kesma family was known for their politeness¡ªa quality undoubtedly influenced by Mr. Kesma himself. Once thought rigid and stubborn by the children, he had softened over the years, though a certain inflexibility remained. They say people are social creatures, shaped more by society''s expectations than their own experiences. The more people associated Mr.


    Kesma with the Kesma family, the more he focused on instilling manners.

 Chapter 120: Chapter 120 Returning Home

    Not that he was ever rude, but compared to the city folk who wore politeness like a mask, he''d seemed a bit coarse. Over time, "rough" Mr. Kesma disappeared, replaced by the polite Mr. Kesma, albeit with the occasional family quarrel over the boundary stone.


    Everyone has a role model, someone they admire and aspire to be like. For the Kesma family, Mr. Kesma was that figure, influencing the family''s courteous demeanor.


    The young girl''s smile revealed slightly yellowed teeth, and the freckles on her nose dotted her face like stars scattered across a night sky.


    Quickly averting his gaze, Mason adjusted his hat, tapped his pistol at his waist, and nudged past the last few people to enter the center of the crowd. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For the past two months, being the sheriff in this rural town had proven grueling. His first duty upon pinning on the sheriff''s badge was finding a missing cow for a woman more robust than himself. Here, cows aren''t used for plowing; instead, they provide a cheap source of fat for cooking, much like pigs in other places.


    When the cow was finally ready for slaughter, it would be fattened and taken to the butcher.


    Losing a cow was a heavy blow for a family. As one of the two sheriffs in Clover Town, Mason took on the responsibility. He found the cow in a nearly dry mud pit, caked in mud and with a broken leg, likely from stepping into the pit.


    After a two-day struggle, Mason managed to return the cow to town, only to watch as two burly brothers from the woman''s family effortlessly hoisted it up and carried it away.


    Since then, he''d handled trivial tasks: a rooster that suddenly stopped crowing, with neighbors demanding Mason "encourage" it to resume its morning routine; a goose that mysteriously stopped laying eggs, sparking a minor panic. It seemed Mason was the only one in town people could turn to for help.


    The other sheriff, an old drunkard, spent each day either preparing for his next nap or recovering from his last.


    If it weren''t for a simmering desire to prove himself as the sheriff he aspired to be, Mason might have given up long ago.


    Despite the triviality of these tasks, he had made progress. At least some now regarded him as a real sheriff and even supported him.


    As he reached the center, he spotted a gleaming new car, its polished surface so reflective he could see himself in it. Straightening his collar and adjusting his hat, he approached the man in the white suit, who was facing away from him.


    "Hello, I''m the sheriff here. You may not realize, but parking here isn''t allowed¡­" Mason''s voice trailed off, his eyes widening in shock until they ached. "Good heavens, Julian! What happened to you?" He finally dared to reach out and touch the car''s smooth, polished surface. "Is this¡­ your car?"


    Just as Mason was astounded by Julian''s transformation, Julian was equally surprised upon turning around. For a moment, he felt a mental disarray¡ªsince when had Mr. Kesma become so lenient as to let Mason become a sheriff?


    "When did this happen?" Julian pulled a cigarette from his pocket, offering it to Mason. Mason eyed the filtered cigarette in surprise, hesitating briefly before tucking it into his pocket. He knew that cigarettes with filters weren''t cheap, and in the countryside, such a cigarette could hold more "influence" than his badge.


    Julian lit his own cigarette and then slapped the freshly opened pack onto Mason''s chest. "Let''s go home. As much as I hate to admit it, I kind of miss our old stubborn father."


    After a brief hesitation, Mason put an arm around Julian''s shoulder and gave him a hearty pat. "Father will be thrilled!" he said, glancing uneasily at the curious onlookers who were even daring to touch the car''s exterior. He was helpless; there was nothing he could do about them, and they clearly didn''t care that Mason was the sheriff.


    Julian gave a slight nod to his two young associates.


    The crowd was no obstacle to Julian. His two attendants, who had accompanied him for both protection and assistance, pulled handfuls of coins from cloth bags in the car and tossed them into the crowd. In an instant, the farmers, housewives, and young men and women who had been pressing forward all bent down with delighted shouts.


    At that moment, Julian stood at the center of Clover Town like a revered king, receiving homage from all around!


    ...


    Mr. Kesma hummed a nostalgic tune as he tended to a modest potted plant, a new hobby he had taken up recently. His children were growing up, and with Mason and Julian each taking their own paths, the family began feeling the urge to break free, to venture into the world beyond.


    He understood this was beyond his control, so he sought other pastimes, such as cultivating plants he found particularly meaningful and beautiful.


    Most of his potted plants came from the fields or small shoots he''d gathered from under trees. Through trimming and nurturing these rooted plants, Mr. Kesma seemed to reclaim a sense of control.


    His approach to plant care was not meticulously planned; he simply knew how to shape them into his ideal vision. Holding scissors poised to snip a tender bud emerging from a branch, he was startled by the loud, sudden opening of the living room door.


    The intense focus he had on his ideal bonsai shape caused his hand to tremble, and, before he could stop himself, he cut off a large portion of the branch. Staring at the branch now lying lifelessly on the floor, Mr. Kesma paused, then quietly set the scissors down, picked up the severed branch, examined it, and finally turned toward the living room.


    He wanted to see who dared make such a racket in his house. As he stepped through the door, about to scold the intruder, he froze, almost as if someone had hit the pause button on him. After rubbing his eyes, he felt the tension in his face ease, though he maintained his usual stern expression.

 Chapter 121: Chapter 121 Julians Family

    "By the Lord above, it''s my dear Julian come home!" A figure rushed past him, pushing a grinning Mason aside, and wrapped Julian in a fierce embrace amid a flurry of green floral fabric.


    Julian gently patted his mother''s strong, sturdy back. "Yes, Mother, I''m back." He looked over at Mr. Kesma, who had quickly composed himself, settling into a chair, taking a swig of water, and lighting his pipe. He gave Julian a sidelong glance.


    With Mrs. Kesma''s joyful exclamations, the whole house seemed to come alive. Siblings, both older and younger, seemed to appear from hidden corners like summoned magicians, all at once rushing to Julian with a barrage of curious and exaggerated questions, to which he responded with little more than a smile.


    After time apart, their reunion was not only joyful but also laced with a hint of unfamiliarity.


    His youngest sister, Lilith, stood shyly by the doorframe, not joining the others but instead watching from a distance, her timid gaze holding an inexplicable sense of detachment. Three months may have seemed brief to an adult, but to a child, it was long enough for familiar bonds to feel distant. Julian waved her over, and Lilith hesitated before slowly stepping forward.


    In the mind of this five¡ªor was it four?¡ªyear-old, memories of Julian were already somewhat faded. She cast an occasional look toward Mr. Kesma for courage as she cautiously approached Julian.


    Julian took a candy wrapped in brown paper from his pocket, and Lilith''s eyes lit up, the unfamiliarity vanishing as she threw herself into his arms.


    Though not an extravagant luxury, candy was also not cheap enough for everyone to enjoy regularly.


    "You look like you''ve been doing well in the city," Mr. Kesma remarked, eyeing Julian from head to toe with a nod of approval. He didn''t know the value of the suit Julian was wearing but assumed it must be decent. Unaware that Julian had driven back or of the scene he had caused in town, Mr. Kesma''s calm might have been shattered had he known.


    In his practical mind, this well-fitted suit might have been borrowed or rented, merely an attempt to save face. Mr. Kesma crossed his legs, feeling a mix of emotions. In just three months, Julian had gained a newfound maturity and now used subtle ways to mask his own hardship, perhaps to reassure his family.


    He let out a deep sigh, and the entire household fell silent, all eyes on him.


    "Julian, what are you doing now? Are you an apprentice? Or maybe you''ve found some work?" Mr. Kesma continued, "Take off that suit so your mother can put it away carefully. Don''t let it get dirty or damaged, so you don''t have trouble returning it."


    To Mr. Kesma, Julian''s return wasn''t just a visit home; he suspected it was a way to gauge his reception. After all, Julian had left with such resolve, and returning suddenly might be hard on his pride.


    Julian chuckled. Mr. Kesma hadn''t changed, still just as "dictatorial" as ever. He stepped over to him, took out a lighter, and lit his pipe. "Father, this time I''ve come back hoping to bring some changes to the family." Julian glanced over at Mason. "What I''m most curious about is how Mason became the sheriff."


    The sheriff held a position somewhat akin to that of a police officer, but with considerably more authority¡ªfar more than a regular policeman. Becoming a sheriff wasn''t a matter of simple ambition; it required complicated certifications and procedures.


    In addition to policing, a sheriff held a "military" role in the town, with the power to mobilize a civilian guard and distribute weapons in times of external threat.


    This was something Julian only learned after his time in Ternell.


    His one thought now was whether he could bring Mason to Ternell and arrange a respectable position for him to help safeguard his ventures.


    His relationship with Pronto was, in reality, quite complicated. Outwardly, they got along well, but beneath the surface, things were less harmonious. The ten thousand Julian had paid Pronto wasn''t easy to swallow. Pronto understood that with smaller sums, he could maintain control, but with larger amounts, that leverage became less certain.


    In this situation, there was always the risk that Pronto might stab him in the back, so Julian hoped to place someone loyal to him within the police force.


    Mason smile carried a hint of awkwardness. The primary reason he wanted to become a sheriff was directly related to Julian. Julian had successfully escaped Mr. Kesma''s control, gaining freedom to live the life he desired, and this had a profound impact on the older children in the family.


    As the eldest son, Mason felt that he, too, needed to do something, rather than simply watching Julian and whatever might happen to him.


    The "decaying rule" had already been torn open by Julian, and Mason needed to continue widening that tear, letting the sunlight in¡ªmost children tend to view their strict, stern, stubborn, and authoritarian parents as part of the "evil faction," which is understandable, as humans are inherently drawn to freedom.


    Thus, Mason courageously became the second family member to stand up against "tyranny," feeling it was his duty and mission as the eldest son, although he didn''t dare to voice it yet.


    He fabricated a somewhat acceptable reason, explaining his admiration for the sheriff''s badge, his longing for the uniform, and his dream of pursuing justice.


    Julian averted his gaze and looked at Mr. Kesma. In the past, Julian wouldn''t have dared to look directly at Mr. Kesma. In the family, Mr. Kesma undoubtedly occupied the apex of the pyramid, ruling unchallenged.


    However, after some time navigating society, Julian suddenly realized that Mr. Kesma, aside from his barely maintained authority, was actually a rather approachable person¡ªjust someone who had expressed himself incorrectly.


    Mr. Kesma stubbornly believed that his life experiences and wisdom could be applied to everyone, ignoring the fact that some people are born to defy fate and are warriors who challenge the current mainstream. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 122: Chapter 122 The Path Of No Return

    Mr. Kesma took a puff of his cigarette, the harsh scent of cheap tobacco stinging his nose, unlike the fragrant filtered cigarettes packed in metal cases.


    Julian pulled out a roll of money from his pocket¡ªabout a thousand bucks. In an era of increasing production and sales, this amount wasn''t particularly impressive. Still, Mr. and Mrs. Kesma''s eyes were immediately drawn to the thick roll of bills in Julian''s hand, their minds going blank. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    They recognized the numbers and knew the bill on the outside was a ten dollar note. If the entire roll was made of ten dollar notes, how much would that be? Three hundred dollars? Maybe five hundred?


    Just then, the sound of a car''s metallic grinding approached, stopping outside Mr. Kesma''s house. Two young men unloaded two heavy crates from the trunk, carried them to the steps, and knocked on the door.


    Mr. Kesma''s expression grew complicated. He gave Julian a deep look and, after saying he''d get the door, walked to the front door, opening it without even checking who was there. Two fifteen or sixteen year old boys politely greeted him with a "Hello" while dragging the crates inside.


    Mr. Kesma glanced at the shiny car outside and sincerely remarked, "Looks like you''ve really made it, Julian!"


    Inside the two crates were some bootleg liquor, clothes, and small gifts for every family member. Mr. Kesma received an entire box of cigarettes¡ªa metal case about a foot long, half a foot wide, and half a foot high, filled with fifty packs of cigarettes, enough to last him a while.


    There was also an unassuming wooden box Julian picked it up, nudged Mason with his shoulder, and exchanged a knowing glance with Mr. Kesma before heading upstairs.


    Without hesitation, the two men followed him.


    Once inside Mr. Kesma''s sanctified "palace," Julian shut the door and carefully placed the wooden box on the table, opening it with great caution. Mason and Mr. Kesma leaned in curiously, wondering what could warrant such careful treatment.


    Inside the box were two small velvet pouches. Julian took one out and emptied its contents¡ªa handgun. It was slightly worn, indicating some use, but had been well maintained, with no leaks or corrosion in the catalytic components.


    Upon seeing the gun, Mr. Kesma''s brows furrowed, and his expression grew serious. His face took on a familiar sternness, reminiscent of when he discovered the children doing something wrong over the years. He reached out, took the gun from Julian, and flipped off the safety. When the grip began to warm in his hand, his expression darkened further.


    Apart from the two handguns, the crate contained four boxes of ammunition. Ammunition could be made in many places, the simplest method involving cutting steel rods into sections that could fit into the magazine. Though these bullets were simple and less effective, they were easy to produce. Julian had brought only four boxes of them.


    "There were also two sealed metal boxes that made sloshing sounds when shaken, containing catalysts cut specifically for the handguns."


    "Where did these come from?" Mr. Kesma casually tossed the gun back into the crate, locking eyes with Julian. "Don''t tell me you found them. And why did you bring these dangerous things back here? What are you planning?"


    Julian didn''t hold back, recounting everything that had happened, including some less than savory actions. If he were to lie about such significant matters, it wouldn''t be a harmless white lie but a sign of flawed character. His detailed narration left both Mr. Kesma and Mason slack jawed.


    The events of the past three months sounded like a novel. When Julian finished, the room fell into silence, lasting nearly ten minutes before Mr. Kesma finally asked, with a complicated expression, "So, what are you planning to do now?"


    "Father, I respect and love you, and every sibling in this family. I cannot stand idly by while danger approaches you all, nor can I lie and say everything is fine. No matter how careful I am, if those people really want to find you, they will."


    "Additionally..." Julian looked at Mason and said sincerely, "I want to take Mason with me back to Ternell City."


    Mr. Kesma''s gaze followed Julian''s words to his eldest son, his eyes revealing a faint trace of confusion and worry. To be honest, he felt that Julian''s endeavors in Ternell City were fraught with danger. Otherwise, there would be no need for him to send two handguns back to the family for protection, signifying that the enemy might bypass Julian and come directly for Mr. Kesma and his family.


    Though Mr. Kesma could read, he hadn''t received higher education. However, his years of life experience taught him one thing: when you''re about to throw a punch at someone, that person might be thinking of punching you back.


    He hoped all his children could grow up safe, normal, and healthy, then form families of their own¡ªperhaps not harmonious or perfect, but at least simple and warm. They might have one or many children, and though their lives wouldn''t be affluent, they would still be happy in an ordinary way.


    Julian was destroying that wish. But he also knew that calling for a pause at this point was akin to placing his head on the guillotine and waiting for the final moment. Mr. Kesma was an excellent farmer and a decent hunter.


    He knew that as long as a hunter remained a hunter, the prey would stay prey. But if the hunter lost his edge and forgot his purpose, he would become the prey, and the prey would become the hunter.


    This was a path with no breaks and no way back. Either one becomes an ever better hunter, eliminating all predators nearby, or they must flee the danger, avoiding being hunted.


    Mr. Kesma was a rigid, stubborn, and authoritarian man. He would rather be a failed hunter in a predator''s mouth than a foolish prey caught by another hunter. Julian couldn''t stop, let alone go back; he had to keep going, as it was the only path available to him. As such, Mr. Kesma didn''t dissuade him or advise him to stop because Julian simply couldn''t.

 Chapter 123: Chapter 123 Building A Solid Foundation

    "Have you hurt someone''s family?" Mr. Kesma asked.


    Julian wanted to lie and say no, but Mr. Kesma''s strict upbringing had left a significant impact on him. After a moment''s hesitation, he nodded. "Yes, Father. I once harmed a man''s wife, skinning her and crucifying her."


    To Julian''s surprise, Mr. Kesma didn''t react with fury or anger. Instead, he seemed calm, wise even, like a serene elder.


    "I don''t see any remorse or fear on your face. Was that skinned woman a Guar?" Julian nodded, and Mr. Kesma''s lips curled into a barely discernible smile. "If she was a Guar, then I won''t blame you. Anyone who has betrayed the bloodline of King Audlero must pay the price and face judgment."


    "Did that family trick you, causing you significant loss or trouble? Were they Guar?" Julian first nodded, then shook his head. Yet, Mr. Kesma understood immediately. He patted Mason on the shoulder. "Go pack up.


    Tomorrow, leave town with this scoundrel!"


    Julian was genuinely shocked by Mr. Kesma''s ability to extract and understand vital information using his own unique wisdom and methods. He also felt the profound sense of responsibility and love Mr. Kesma had for him, Mason, and the entire family¡ªsomething he had never experienced before.


    Mr. Kesma''s agreement to let Mason leave with Julian for Ternell wasn''t because Julian had become wealthy and could provide a luxurious life for his eldest son. It was because Julian was in danger and needed someone behind him, someone who could support him wholeheartedly.


    This person couldn''t be a stranger, friend, or even a close companion; it had to be family¡ªblood relatives who could be completely trusted.


    Simultaneously, it was a means of protecting Mason and the Kesma family members.


    Mr. Kesma, though a farmer, possessed his own wisdom. He knew that only if Julian continued to grow stronger would the entire family achieve true safety. Rather than hoping enemies would put down their weapons, it was better to send them to hell before they had a chance to strike!


    Grasping Mason''s neck, Mr. Kesma suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion. He shook his hand and drove the two troublemakers out of his "palace." He then tidied up the room, placed the wooden box containing the gun into his "secret treasure vault"¡ªwhich everyone knew about¡ªand locked it away.


    Dinner had a peculiar atmosphere. Beneath Mr. Kesma''s expressionless, authoritative face, waves of intense emotions simmered. The children were already aware that Mason would be leaving with Julian for the big city tomorrow, and the idea filled them with a temptation they had never experienced before. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    No one doesn''t yearn for freedom, especially when someone close to them has already attained it!


    The children exchanged glances, occasionally kicking each other under the table. Mrs. Kesma shot a glare at Mr. Kesma, who pretended not to notice.


    It had taken so long for the family to gather together again, only to have the atmosphere ruined by Mr. Kesma''s stoic face.


    Enough was enough!


    Dinner was simple, with ingredients sourced from the farm and a tiny ranch that had just two cows, four sheep, a dozen geese, and twenty or thirty chickens... Oh, and an old dog too feeble to run, who watched its descendants roam the pastures.


    As they ate the familiar meal and shared urban anecdotes, the atmosphere finally began to warm up. Surrounded by the envious, jealous, and expectant eyes of his siblings, Mason''s last family dinner came to an end.


    After clearing the table, Mrs. Kesma took the children out of the dining room. She had a feeling Julian and Mr. Kesma had something to discuss.


    The tense atmosphere felt almost tangible, and it lasted for a while before Julian pursed his lips and took out the money from his pocket.


    Aside from the thousand dollars he had given Mr. Kesma earlier, he had five thousand more, all in fifty-dollar bills¡ªa hundred in total.


    "What good is this money?" Mr. Kesma asked, neither taking it nor putting it away, but posing a question instead.


    Julian nodded. "I need your help with something small."


    Sometimes, Mr. Kesma was truly fascinating, as he didn''t act at all like a simple, honest farmer. Using the word "honest" might create some misunderstanding, but that''s the truth.


    For example, when the now "high-flying" Julian pulled out five thousand dollars and asked Mr. Kesma for a "small favor," Mr. Kesma, who probably hadn''t seen such a large sum of money in his life, didn''t show the slightest excitement.


    His hands didn''t even tremble, as if the stack of money on the table were not five thousand dollars but merely fifty or even five dollars. His eyes lingered on the money for only about half a second before returning to Julian''s face without a hint of longing.


    "What does a farmer like me need to do for you?" Mr. Kesma adjusted his position, pressing his back more firmly against the wicker chair.


    Julian was organizing his thoughts. His time in the city had taught him that the word "reason" encompasses more than its literal definition. Simply put, everything that can translate into tangible benefits¡ªmoney, subordinates, power, status, reputation¡ªcan be described as "reason." When two people are on an equal footing socially and in terms of influence, "reason" can be communicated verbally.


    But when there is an imbalance of power or status, "reason" is often not something to be spoken but to be acted upon.


    How could one elevate their level of "reason"?


    Julian had considered various avenues, such as becoming a white glove for a powerful figure like Wood or Gador or serving as a cleaner who handles dirty work.


    However, these paths not only required him to have greater strength and influence but also took time to build. Trust is not built in three or five days or with a few words; it takes years to establish and can be destroyed in an instant.


    What Julian needed was a solid foundation, not a castle built on water.

 Chapter 124: Chapter 124 Legal Wrongdoing And Legal Evasion

    He wanted Mr. Kesma to help bribe another sheriff in town¡ªor, as they were formally called, a chief. During the National Defense War, also known as the Civil War, the Empire had followed the chancellor''s advice and granted rural areas, like towns and villages, the authority to form local guard units to resist the relentless assaults of the federal army.


    The ultimate executors of this order were the local sheriffs, who would become the leaders and commanders of these guard units. Additionally, the Empire had granted these sheriffs another crucial privilege.


    They could purchase standard-issue rifles, and even war machinery and weapon platforms, at a low cost from the military arsenal.


    This policy proved highly effective during the war. The wealthier one was, the more afraid they were of dying. At the start of the war, the nobles still held vast lands in the Empire, making them the true landowners.


    Consequently, this policy pushed the nobles to the warfront¡ªeither they "donated" money to arm local guard units and purchased advanced weaponry to fend off potential invaders, or they fled to the imperial capital and lamented the destruction of their lands, wealth, and estates by war.


    So, many nobles gritted their teeth and handed over large sums to arm the local guard units, to the point where some noble territories had guard units more heavily armed than the Empire''s regular army.


    But!


    They got swindled.


    With the new decree signed by the Emperor, the "National Defense War Special Requisition Act," heavily armed local guard units were absorbed and restructured into the regular army. In other words, the Empire used noble-funded armies for battle without paying any price.


    Although this left many nobles resentful and indignant, they had to swallow their grievances and act as if they were willing to sacrifice everything for the Empire, fearing the consequences of losing the war. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After the war, many noble-formed armies, as well as Guar and Ordinian troops, suffered heavy losses on the battlefield. This quelled the brewing class conflicts almost instantly. Conspiracy theorists even suggested that the Imperial family had colluded with the New Party to betray the nobles, ending the centuries-long feudal monarchy.


    This betrayal stemmed from the royal family''s exploitation of the nobles wealth and resources through war policies, sowing seeds of discontent.


    Regardless of the causes and outcomes, the local guard policy was never rescinded after the war, as if forgotten, and it remains enforceable by wartime laws to this day.


    This raises another question: Are the wealthy and influential exploiting this loophole?


    The answer is no. Although the wartime policy was never repealed, the New Party, upon taking office, imposed numerous restrictions. For example, during peacetime, a town''s local guard unit couldn''t have more than seven members or more than three rifles, and war machines or platforms were strictly forbidden.


    The Imperial Investigation Bureau even had agents patrolling the Empire, and the local gendarmerie strictly enforced these regulations.


    Thus, for the wealthy, spending money on such endeavors was pointless. It was more effective to invest in a group of ruthless enforcers.


    But was there really no other loophole to exploit?


    Not entirely. According to the "Rights and Duties of Local Guard Units During Peacetime," if dangerous wild animals appeared near a town or village, the guards were required to eliminate them to protect citizens'' property and rights.


    And who decides if such "dangerous" animals are around? The sheriff!


    Seven members might not seem like much, but if these seven men were well-trained and armed with three rifles, their impact would far exceed the sum of their numbers.


    Imagine if, during a standoff where both sides were evenly matched or even if Julian was slightly at a disadvantage, a highly trained seven-man squad with rifles suddenly launched a surprise attack from behind. The result would be catastrophic!


    Julian organized his words and then expressed his request. Mr. Kesma did not agree immediately. Instead, he curiously observed Julian, as if he were meeting this "stranger" for the first time. After scrutinizing him for about half a minute, Mr. Kesma asked with interest, "Have you been reading recently?


    How do you know all this?"


    Julian was momentarily stunned; he hadn''t expected Mr. Kesma''s thoughts to jump in such an odd direction. Instead of addressing the requests that could arguably be said to violate imperial law, he was inquiring if Julian had been reading.


    Julian quickly recovered and nodded, "Yes, Father, I''ve been reading whenever I have free time. In the city, I learned how to read and write, and I even befriended a lawyer so rotten that his feet were practically festering. When he left Ternell City for the capital, he threw away some things he no longer needed and passed them on to me!"


    When Kevin left, he didn''t bother taking those worthless professional books with him. For a lawyer like him, who had already signed with one of the biggest law firms in the empire, any reasonable needs would be met by the firm, including a complete set of deluxe law books.


    In fact, many of these exquisitely bound and hefty legal volumes¡ªlike art pieces¡ªweren''t for the firm''s lawyers to read, but rather for the clients seeking consultation to "see."


    These books were essential decorations for any law firm. The more lavish and refined they were, the more they symbolized some inexplicable strength. So Kevin left them behind, taking only some decent clothing and sentimental items. Before leaving, he handed Julian the books and advised him to read through them whenever he had time.


    In Kevin''s words, to succeed in society, one must first master "legal wrongdoing" and then "legal evasion." Only by achieving these two points could one climb the stairs to success without losing balance over an unnoticed pebble and plummeting from the heights.


    Julian listened to Kevin''s advice attentively and remembered it well. Through his interactions with Kevin, he sensed the ever-present shackles of both divine and imperial law, binding everyone. Yet, some people could effortlessly break these chains and commit crimes in "legal" ways.


    Remarkable, isn''t it?

 Chapter 125: Chapter 125 What Did Father Do In The Past?

    Remarkable, isn''t it?


    One hand holds the sacred code, while the other grips a weapon...


    So, in his spare time, Julian would read the books, and this time, his idea stemmed from information in the Star Empire Special Statutes, along with Kevin''s advice on exploiting loopholes. He even sent a telegram to Kevin, who was thriving in the capital.


    Seeing Julian admit he had been reading, Mr. Kesma''s lips curved into a slight smile, which quickly vanished. He pressed his palm on the table, tapping rhythmically with his fingers, producing a steady "thud, thud."


    After a while, he nodded solemnly. "That old drunkard and I actually have a decent relationship, and there are quite a few Guar people in town who want to volunteer as guards, we will start training them next week."


    Julian was genuinely surprised; he hadn''t expected Mr. Kesma, who had never left the town since Mason was born, to think this way. It caught him off guard. Perhaps noticing the astonishment and disbelief in Julian''s eyes, a proud smile appeared on Mr. Kesma''s stern face. He raised an eyebrow, placed a hand on the stack of fifty-dollar bills, and stood up.


    His rugged, calloused hands were full of wrinkles, but at that moment, they seemed to possess an indescribable power. He casually pocketed the five thousand dollars, walked over to Julian, and patted his shoulder. "You little rascal, still too young!"


    Julian could only nod in agreement, filled with confusion. What Mr. Kesma had said was precisely what he had planned to suggest, but Mr. Kesma beat him to it. Julian had no intention of using his money to train seven highly capable local security guards for the empire. Instead, he would nominate people worthy of being "volunteer guards," who would be fed and housed but not paid.


    At the same time, he would privately compensate them generously, winning their loyalty. If the old drunkard didn''t comply, Julian would replace him, taking complete control of the "military power" in Purple Clover Town. But how did Mr. Kesma come up with this?


    Julian watched Mr. Kesma''s back disappear at the top of the stairs leading to the second floor. He then immediately sought out Mrs. Kesma.


    "Mother, what did Father do in the past?" At that moment, Mrs. Kesma was taking care of Lilith, who was bathing. Seeing Julian burst in, Lilith shyly ducked into the water, leaving only her head exposed. Her long hair floated on the surface; in different lighting and surroundings, Julian might have run away in embarrassment.


    Mrs. Kesma didn''t turn around, smiling. "What else could he do? From the time I met him, he was a farmer. But I must say, he was quite a fine young man back then, far more skilled at farming than anyone else. Otherwise, I wouldn''t have married him!"


    Mrs. Kesma''s answer left Julian even more perplexed. Was it just a flash of inspiration? Fortunately, he didn''t dwell on it and shifted his attention to Mason, planning to secure a position for him.


    Regional police departments were highly autonomous, with the director having the final say in everything. To secure a branch director position, one had to get past Pronto. Luckily, Pronto had already taken the bait, and this time Julian would pay him until he was satisfied.


    Of course, Julian also understood that Pronto might not demand a large bribe. He might even handle it for free, but whether he wanted money or not wasn''t up to him.


    ...


    The sound of his grumpy old wife''s nagging and the clatter of pots and pans echoed in the ears of the drunken sheriff of Purple Clover Town. He opened his blurry eyes, reached out to pull at the corner of the curtain, and found that the sky outside was still dark and murky. He couldn''t tell if it was early morning or if nighttime had merely passed a bit.


    His throat felt as dry as if something were tearing at it. He groaned uncomfortably a couple of times, the room spinning, as he sat up and put on his slippers. He switched on the dim bedside lamp and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was midnight. He stared at the clock for about twenty seconds, then picked it up and wound it, letting it resume its rhythmic ticking.


    Thirst and headaches were among the many unpleasant side effects of cheap homemade liquor. Supporting himself with both hands on the bed, he stood up, walked over to the table, picked up a glass, and tilted it back, but not a single drop of water came out.


    A restless agitation flickered in his gray eyes, and his wife''s nagging and complaints made his head throb even more. The banging of pots and pans was simply unbearable. He breathed heavily, grabbed the hunting rifle that hung crosswise on the wall, and charged out of the bedroom.


    It wasn''t a mere decoration; it was only treated as one by the owner of the room.


    The kitchen?


    No!


    The bathroom?


    No!


    When the sheriff reached the living room, he saw a shadowy figure standing in the corner. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. The bullet spun and roared out of the muzzle, accompanied by a small puff of white mist.


    With a bang, something shattered, and the shadow slid slowly down the wall to the floor. The nagging and complaining instantly disappeared, and an overwhelming calmness washed over him.


    The sheriff staggered over, muttering incomprehensibly. He knelt in front of the figure, touched the bullet-torn floorboards, and glanced around with alertness.


    "I''ll find you!" the sheriff coughed. "I swear!"


    He walked to the kitchen, turned on the faucet, and drank the metallic-tasting water in greedy gulps. Once he was satisfied, he cursed under his breath and stumbled back to bed, collapsing into another deep slumber.


    Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating a black and white photo on the living room cabinet. In the photo, a gentle looking woman smiled at anyone who glanced her way.


    S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 126: Chapter 126 We Are Friends

    The next morning, the curtain he had yanked open the night before couldn''t keep out the blazing sunlight. Shielding his eyes from the harsh rays, the sheriff slowly woke up, lifting a hand to block the light. His mind blank, he glanced at the hunting rifle, then turned to hang it back on the wall above the bed.


    He had a severe illness, but few people knew. Most thought he was merely a hopeless drunk who would never wake up. Only those familiar with him understood he used alcohol as medicine.


    He rubbed his face, the crust in his eyes scratching his cheeks painfully. Expressionless, he walked over to the wardrobe mirror, diligently changed into his uniform symbolizing justice and righteousness, pinned on his badge, saluted the mirror with perfect form, and left the bedroom, leaving the house.


    Before stepping out, he grabbed a bottle of homemade moonshine from the table, the kind that was stronger than typical low-proof liquor but not quite as potent as the illegal distilleries'' products.


    He bit off the cap and gulped a mouthful, just about to head out the door when someone shoved him back inside.


    "Well, well, look who it is¡ªMr. Kesma!" The sheriff''s tone grew sharp, a flicker of surprise in his eyes quickly replaced by wariness.


    Mr. Kesma''s stoic, expressionless face was like an artist''s sculpture, not a single muscle betraying movement. He removed his round hat and placed it on the coat rack, surveying the room before shaking his head. He walked to the filthy rattan chair in the living room, flipped everything off of it, and sat down.


    "What are you doing here?" The sheriff set the bottle of liquor back on the table, his face dark as he sat across from Mr. Kesma. "Have you forgotten our agreement? Unless we''re facing life or death, neither of us should contact the other!"


    Mr. Kesma did the unthinkable¡ªhe shrugged. Even more shocking, he uttered a name that didn''t exist in town, "Walter¡­"


    "Shut up! That''s not my name!" The sheriff erupted with rage, ready to pounce, but froze when he saw the calmness in Mr. Kesma''s eyes. He sat back down stiffly. "No, I''m not Walter. There is no such person.


    Call me ''Johnson,'' Mr. Kesma!"


    Mr. Kesma retrieved an ornate metal case from his pocket, took out two cigarettes, placed one in his mouth, and tossed the other to "Johnson." He pulled out a finely crafted silver lighter, lit his own cigarette, and raised his chin slightly, giving Johnson a cold, unwavering stare. A stranger might have been infuriated or, at the very least, displeased by Mr.


    Kesma''s attitude, but Johnson knew it was just Mr. Kesma''s way of flaunting his vanity.


    He''d been doing it, annoying everyone with his boastful manner, for decades!


    "I know you have a fine son; everyone in town knows," Johnson said, lighting his cigarette with the silver lighter and inhaling deeply. He fiddled with the lighter in his hands. "But so what? That has nothing to do with me. Listen, I don''t want trouble, and I don''t want trouble finding me. Got it?" sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Mr. Kesma exhaled a cloud of smoke, flicked the ash from his cigarette. The ash fell to the floor in a pristine lump, only to be scattered by a gust of wind from the doorway. He spoke with the same cold indifference as before: "We are friends."


    When Mr. Kesma said those words, Sheriff Johnson visibly flinched. Those words had once been a nightmare for many, keeping anyone who heard them from sleeping soundly. But today, it was clear he was not hearing those words as the embodiment of "justice."


    Conflict shone in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw twitching. Sweat trickled down his hair, and his lips trembled so much that he dropped his cigarette, which landed softly on the floor.


    "What do you want me to do?"


    ...


    Julian had no idea that the trouble he thought would require a large sum of money to silence the sheriff was resolved with just a single sentence from Mr. Kesma. All it cost Kesma was one cigarette.


    Although the current situation in Ternell City seemed stable, it was far from secure. The longer Julian stayed away from Ternell City, the more issues would arise, like the always-hidden Heidler. Before leaving, Heidler had left a message for Julian, hoping to meet as soon as possible.


    This meeting wouldn''t be easy. For someone like Heidler, a wealthy industrialist whose success was built on his ancestors'' betrayal of the nation, every action had to align with the interests of the Empire. Even if he was unwilling, he had to comply. Numerous "extreme Guar nationalists" who dreamed of judging him constantly made dangerous remarks.


    To protect his life and assets, he had to cling tightly to the Empire''s authority.


    It was well-known that the Guar people had particularly brutal ways of dealing with "traitors." If the Guar monarchy hadn''t been overthrown and if Heidler weren''t now a significant figure in high society under the Empire''s rule, he might have already been skinned and crucified, left to scream for three days and nights to complete his judgment.


    Thus, Heidler''s desire to personally control the community association was impossible. He needed an "anonymous deputy" to handle it for him, and Julian was his top choice.


    Julian could easily guess why Heidler wanted to meet him. It wasn''t to gain more wealth from the community association or from Julian himself; he wanted the association itself. With such a force under his control, he could achieve things he currently couldn''t, and this force was crucial to his plans. He could use others, but he wouldn''t feel secure.


    Julian was a Guar and ambitious. Ambition often equates to "desire," a limitless and instinctive source of human motivation. Julian craved money, power, and higher social status¡ªall of which Heidler could provide. It wasn''t an exaggeration to say that with Heidler''s status, a few words could save Julian fifteen or twenty years of struggle and elevate him into the Empire''s high society.

 Chapter 127: Chapter 127 Every Person Is Assigned A Price

    Although Julian was Heidler''s first choice, he wasn''t the only one. Heidler planned to meet Julian but was also trying to contact other members of the community association. If anyone was willing to bow to reality for "ambition," Heidler wouldn''t hesitate to extend a hand of friendship.


    Another pressing issue was Dave.


    Dave had a problem¡ªnot with loyalty or physical health, but with emotions. Some fool once said, "The essence and only true love is in the exchange of bodily fluids." It seemed that during his role-playing as Jon, Dave had developed inappropriate feelings for Mrs. Vivian. This was a serious problem.


    For people in high society, chaotic personal lives weren''t considered disgraceful, especially among the old party elites. Almost every notable figure had several semi-official lovers. In the past, under a feudal monarchy, the nobility was notorious for their chaotic personal lives, playing absurd games for the thrill of mental and physical pleasure.


    But there was always a line: no emotional attachment.


    For example, when a married woman had several lovers, people might call her "flirtatious." But if she spent meaningful time with someone else beyond pleasure, she would be labeled a harlot.


    During the age of feudal monarchy and divine law, all laws were crafted for the benefit of the ruling class. Whether or not to follow them was a different matter. The real problem here was that Dave seemed to have fallen for Mrs. Vivian, and she seemed to have fallen for him.


    This was a messy situation. Julian repeatedly questioned the plausibility of Mrs. Vivian¡ªa woman who had seen and survived countless storms¡ªfalling for someone like Dave, who wasn''t even of Ordinian heritage. Julian suspected Mrs. Vivian might have discovered something or that the relationship had transcended simple flirtation and evolved into something more profound.


    But Dave claimed that he could feel Mrs. Vivian''s genuine affection in fleeting moments.


    Two people who shouldn''t have fallen in love had developed feelings, and Julian was the unlucky one caught in the middle. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The Mayor could tolerate his wife secretly meeting other men, but emotional infidelity was another matter entirely. Both Dave and Julian were in deep trouble. Their opponent this time was likely one of Ternell City''s three major powers: the Mayor. However, there was a sliver of good news: Gador was now a thing of the past, and Wood had returned to the embrace of the Lord.


    Carrell and Ernst were openly fighting with Julian, but the three of them had already formed a trading company and were secretly planning to expand their territory.


    The only threats to Julian were a nearly defunct small gang and the "Flaming Skull" gang, led by Tiger, which ran a technical service center providing distinctive services mainly funded by human trafficking.


    The latter was the real concern, but the Flaming Skull''s combat strength wasn''t impressive. Subduing young girls didn''t require much force or courage, just a fierce appearance and a ruthless heart.


    The Mayor''s lack of reliable personnel gave Julian more time to address the issue, but he needed to return as soon as possible.


    After a family lunch, it was time to say goodbye. Mr. Kesma, still impatient, left immediately after eating. Mrs. Kesma, with tearful eyes, piled meat onto Julian and Mason''s plates, giving them heartfelt instructions.


    When Julian and Mason were about to get into the car, Mr. Kesma smacked their shoulders hard, making them stumble backward. "Remember, you are Kesma''s children. No matter the difficulties, never give up easily!"


    "Get going, you brats!"


    Mrs. Kesma''s gaze couldn''t hold back the forward momentum of the rolling wheels, disappearing into the countryside''s autumn scenery. Mason was extremely excited, continuously stroking the leather seats, though he felt a bit restrained, his eyes curiously taking in everything within reach.


    "Is this your car? Must have cost quite a bit, huh?" Mason laughed awkwardly, wanting to raise a hand and pat the shoulder of his younger brother, with whom he had always shared a good relationship since childhood. But his hand stopped an inch away, unsure whether it was due to the unexplainable aura of authority around his brother or the pristine, expensive white suit he was wearing.


    Julian casually shoved a pack of cigarettes into Mason''s hand, grinning. "This car? I actually stole it. If it were up to me, I''d find a truck far more useful than this fancy-looking sedan."


    Mason took the cigarettes, withdrawing his arm, and stared wide-eyed at Julian, utterly incredulous. Did he really just say he stole this car? God Almighty, Mason couldn''t believe his ears. He, the middle brother of the three¡ªMason, Julian, and their eldest sister¡ªknew Julian''s kind-hearted nature all too well. How could the Julian he knew commit such an act?


    Julian noticed Mason''s skeptical gaze but knew that explanations might be pointless. He simply shrugged, rolling down the car window. The countryside breeze was different from the city air, carrying a hint of sweetness mixed with the earthy smell of soil. Here, with fewer concrete roads and no steel jungles, the aroma of dirt and wildflowers dominated.


    The cigarette Julian lit glowed brightly in the wind. He took a puff, then turned to Mason. "I get it. For the longest time, we imagined big cities as heavenly places. But when you''re actually in one, you gradually realize it''s not heaven; it''s the gateway to hell." He took another drag, the wind tousling his hair and making him look effortlessly carefree.


    Mason, mimicking Julian, rolled down his own window and lit a cigarette, enviously observing how his brother, in just three months away from home, had become a completely different person.


    With the cigarette between his fingers, Julian arrogantly yet casually pointed ahead. "In the city, money is everything. Every person is assigned a price, high or low, based on their status and background, but never on what they can actually do.


    "The former represents high society in people''s eyes, while the latter¡­"


    Julian sneered, wagging his finger. "People like us, my dear brother, are just low-class nobodies." He tilted his head, dodging the ash blown back by the wind, and continued, "So if you don''t want to live underfoot, humiliated, what do you do? Of course, you fight for it with your life. At least in that regard, we''re no different from the elites¡ªwe both only get one shot."

 Chapter 128: Chapter 128 Buying Suits

    "So, my dear older brother, if you think the city is heaven, it''ll end up being your eternal resting place. But if you understand me and see it as the gate to hell, maybe we can struggle a little longer. Don''t you think?"


    Mason swallowed hard. He suddenly realized that moving to the big city to start a new life might not be as simple as he''d imagined. Thankfully, every Kesma family member had some decent qualities, one of which was the willingness to ask questions when they didn''t understand something.


    Mason tossed his cigarette out, straightened his posture¡ªa habit he''d picked up as a rookie cop¡ªand asked earnestly, "What should I do?"


    This was exactly why Julian was willing to bring his brother to the city. Firstly, he trusted him completely. Secondly, Mason never did anything "outside the plan," especially if he wasn''t the one who made the plan. He was reliable, controllable, and wouldn''t act recklessly¡ªthe perfect candidate.


    "Listen, I''m going to buy you a precinct chief''s position¡­" Mason''s sudden flinch interrupted Julian, who rolled his eyes before continuing. "My dear brother, it''s just a precinct chief. You''ll only have twenty or thirty people under you. There are three others like you in the city, and above you all is the central department. It''s no big deal, got it?


    We managed to bring down Gador the Lizard, so I''ll set you up in the East District, where I''m gradually shifting my influence."


    "Once you''re in office, you only have two tasks. First, spend money¡ªspend it like crazy. Use any means to burn through it. I''ll have someone teach you how. Second, get rid of the unnecessary people and replace them with the right ones, then maintain the appearance of law and order. That''s it.


    I trust you''ll handle it well. It''s way easier than being a country sheriff!"


    "I''m not a sheriff; I''m a cop!"


    Julian raised a hand and laughed. "Same difference!"


    Mason looked nervous. "I''m not sure I can do it. I might disappoint you," he said sincerely. Julian''s depiction of the city painted it as a dark, decaying castle full of destruction. Mason wasn''t sure he could navigate it as effortlessly as Julian, who seemed to thrive there like a fish in water. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Sometimes he envied Julian, the first to leave home, bearing heavy burdens but also the first to succeed, excelling in everything he did...


    Julian, however, turned to him, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. "There are no cowardly soldiers in the Kesma family! Watch out, or I''ll report you to the General!" It was an inside joke. For the longest time, they''d all likened Mr. Kesma to a ruthless general, and they were his soldiers. They even called him the General behind his back until he caught on and put a stop to it.


    Mason rubbed his shoulder and straightened his back.


    Full of both anxiety and anticipation, the brothers arrived at what Julian had called the gate to hell. Mason was awestruck by the bustling streets and the sheer number of people and goods on display for the first time in his life.


    The car pulled up in front of Paul''s Tailoring Shop, one of the finest in the city, catering exclusively to elite clientele. The shop''s three master tailors frequently traveled to Olodo to stay updated on the latest fashion trends, ensuring top-notch service for their customers. This had earned the shop an impressive reputation.


    Julian needed two new suits for himself and decided to order two for Mason as well. As much as he hated to admit it, appearances mattered.


    Through the modest shop window, they saw what looked like a family of four getting fitted for clothes. Julian couldn''t help but feel a strange twinge of emotion. Three months ago, he had come here seeking a respectable job, but the tailor had turned him away, saying they didn''t need any apprentices. The tailor had even dismissed him with a contemptuous look and a single dime.


    Yet now, only three months later, their roles had dramatically reversed. The thought brought a smile to Julian''s face.


    Perhaps that was one of the driving forces behind ambitious people, always striving to be above others.


    Ding-ling~


    The door opened!


    "Hello, esteemed guest. Paul''s Tailoring is a bespoke clothing shop with a long history. The third-generation owner once crafted seasonal fashion attire for princes and princesses of that era, blending trendiness with elegance, sophistication with maturity. If you have a membership card, we will arrange for a tailor familiar with your preferences to serve you immediately!"


    As soon as the door opened, a young girl dressed in a white shirt and a shiny brown blazer bowed and recited a well-rehearsed introduction she had repeated countless times. Her voice was gentle, her pace steady, and each word enunciated perfectly, clearly the result of rigorous training¡ªa testament to the power of money in this world.


    You wouldn''t find this kind of service or guidance at the crowded, budget tailoring shops by the roadside, where making a suit for two or three dollars meant chopping fabric into big pieces and stitching it roughly. Buying clothes from such places was more like buying fabric since, more often than not, you''d have to make adjustments to the ill-fitted garments when you got home.


    And remember, in those places, never give precise measurements like height, sleeve length, or chest and hip circumference. These details were meaningless. Instead, give a ballpark figure, adding about ten centimeters to your height. For example, say something like, "A suit for a big guy about six-foot-two." Then you could adjust the outfit later.


    But if you gave too detailed a measurement, congratulations¡ªyour younger brother or child would have a new set of clothes instead.


    Here, it was completely different. Skilled tailors didn''t even need a measuring tape. A simple hand measurement would yield an incredibly accurate number, down to the centimeter.


    They would then tailor the clothing based on factors like your profession, the occasion, time of day, the event''s prestige, the social class of those attending, your own social standing, the purpose of the event, and the impression you wanted to convey¡ªconsidering over twenty to thirty criteria. For a bit more money, they could even suggest accessories to match perfectly.

 Chapter 129: Chapter 129 Being looked down upon

    This was the life of the nobility and the upper class: luxurious and dignified.


    The girl''s gaze instinctively fell to the shoes of the group entering. A hint of impatience flickered in her eyes. Not everyone had the self-awareness to know where they belonged. Paul''s was a prestigious brand in Ternell City, well-known but just as exclusive as other luxury labels. These people wore shoes worth a few dollars at best, perhaps ten at the most!


    This tier of society had no business getting a membership, let alone ordering custom suits. Sometimes, class differences were brutally evident. Whether in the past or now, social hierarchies were as rigid as city walls, long since lost to war but always reminding people of their existence whenever they stood nearby.


    Social class had long been etched into the bones and souls of people, compelling them to comply, to obey.


    Class instilled unparalleled fear in the lower ranks and unimaginable arrogance in the upper ones.


    The girl straightened up. She wasn''t from an elite family nor did she have impressive social status, but as an apprentice and shop assistant at Paul''s, she knew that if she made no mistakes and married a direct descendant of the Paul family, she might one day sit behind a screen, catering to high society''s true elites. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She might even become a mistress to one of these important figures before that day came.


    She never considered herself part of the lower class; she belonged, at least, to the social elite.


    Once she straightened, her assumption was confirmed. That handsome young man in the white suit had come here before, wanting to become an apprentice, and had been very "politely" shown out. In the girl''s eyes, that was an act of etiquette and moral propriety¡ªa graceful refusal, with a dime given as a token of apology.


    "Sorry, we don''t take on apprentices," she said, still smiling. Her tailoring instructor had taught her that one must never lose a smile, whether dealing with a poor or ordinary person. To the lower classes, a smile displayed one''s refined virtues. To the upper classes, it signified humble courtesy. Smiling was never wrong.


    Julian glanced at the three screens in the shop. Only the innermost one was visible from outside, the other two hidden away, bright lights shining but no shadows moving.


    He looked back at the girl, asking casually, "I''d like to get a¡­ no, five membership cards. How much?"


    Five?


    The girl drew a sharp breath and instinctively straightened, not to show off her figure but out of shock. At Paul''s, membership cards came in three tiers: three-year, five-year, and permanent. Even the cheapest three-year card cost 1,500 dollars. And no, that wasn''t a prepaid deposit or credit; it was purely for the privilege of membership.


    Want a custom suit? Sure, but keep spending!


    Five cards would be 7,500 dollars. The girl felt a twinge of embarrassment, as she was convinced this young man was mocking her.


    But she kept her polished smile and slightly bowed her head. "I''m sorry, sir, but it takes more than money to get a membership card here. You also need the appropriate social standing." Her smile widened a fraction, and she felt a strange satisfaction at saying that. She looked at the handsome boy with a pitying, sincere smile, one she thought was full of genuine regret.


    Sorry, but this world isn''t for the lower class!


    How cruel she was, shattering a young boy''s illusion of a beautiful world!


    The pretty young attendant had barely managed to lean at the counter and enjoy a moment of rest. When she peeked through her fingers and saw that handsome young man in the white suit striding toward the last fitting room, with another visibly nervous fellow following closely behind.


    Oh Lord above¡ªthat room belonged to Mr. Dumas!


    Dumas Paul, to drop some unnecessary flourish, was the head tailor and manager of Paul''s Tailoring in Ternell City. The success of this small tailor shop had allowed the Paul family to open branches in several major cities in the Empire''s southeastern region. After the New Party''s successful coup, capital had flourished.


    To expand their influence and cope with the limited number of family members, the head of the Paul family had established a rule.


    It was called the "Apprentice Integration Program." The old patriarch believed that if there were suitable and talented apprentices, they could marry into the family, becoming one of their own and helping to extend Paul''s Tailoring''s influence. The plan was a brilliant strategy.


    Tailors trained apprentices, but without any constraints, apprentices would often leave upon mastering their craft, seeking to open their own shops and embarking on their so-called "shameless first ventures."


    That''s why Julian had never been accepted as an apprentice at any artisan shop. He hadn''t met the standard for "inheritance." In simpler terms, master artisans picked apprentices not just as students but as potential successors or even family members. Apprentices were carefully selected and strictly controlled.


    Few apprentices, after mastering their craft, would willingly continue under the "exploitation" of their mentors. They preferred to start anew, working solely for themselves rather than anyone else.


    The young girl was one such lucky candidate. Mr. Dumas''s eldest son, sixteen, was two years younger than her. He believed that a clever and capable girl who could care for his son for a lifetime was a worthy investment. Even better, once they married and she had the skills to manage a shop independently, his eldest son would be ensured a life of comfort. A worthwhile investment, indeed.


    Of course, Julian knew nothing about this. Right now, he only wanted the best tailor in the shop to make suits for himself, Mason, Dave, Airlis, and that fool Graf. Everything else was irrelevant.


    Mr. Dumas, at thirty-seven, was a slender man with dry skin, light wrinkles, and thick, well-maintained hair. He wore glasses and was lounging in a rocking chair, eyes closed in rest.


    When Julian entered the fitting room, he noticed that the seemingly bright light from outside was actually softened by a lampshade, leaving half the room gently illuminated while the other half cast light on a translucent screen.

 Chapter 130: Chapter 130 I Like Clever People

    Julian politely knocked on the table. The sound jolted Mr. Dumas awake. He sat up suddenly, and his gold-rimmed glasses slid down his nose. Thankfully, a chain attached to the arms of the glasses kept them from crashing to the floor. As he stood and adjusted his glasses, he gave a small, apologetic smile, bowing slightly.


    "I''m terribly sorry. I''ve been working all morning and got a bit tired. My apologies. Today, all orders will receive a ten percent discount."


    As he bowed, his expression briefly changed, then adjusted back. That damned girl! Hadn''t she thought to warn him beforehand? Embarrassing oneself before such a distinguished guest was unacceptable! Her pay would be docked!


    Julian was quite satisfied with the "old gentleman''s" dedication to his work. He pointed to himself and then to Mason. "Hello, we need two formal suits for an evening banquet. If it can be expedited, please do."


    Mr. Dumas dutifully picked up a notebook, momentarily surprised, then quickly smiled and said, "Forgive me, I haven''t yet asked for your name or this gentleman''s name¡­" After Julian introduced them, Mr. Dumas jotted down the names and the request. He then directed Julian to stand under a particularly bright lamp and began taking measurements.


    As he worked, he asked various questions, the whole process lasting about ten minutes. When he finished, he swiftly cut out a paper mock-up of a suit and loosely pinned it together, laying it before Julian.


    "Mr. Julian, here is the suit design I''ve come up with for you. I''ve incorporated this spring''s minimalist trend, which is becoming popular in the southern and central regions. I removed the subtle piping along the collar edge, favored by many gentlemen, to give it a more refined and grand appearance. It''s less playful, adding an air of nobility and gravity..."


    Julian raised a hand, and Mr. Dumas immediately fell silent, bending slightly with a listening expression. "I don''t like purple," Julian said. Yes, he disliked purple because it reminded him of that effeminate Delier, whose all-purple outfits were annoyingly flamboyant.


    Mr. Dumas''s face lit up in understanding, and he nodded vigorously. "If you''re not fond of purple, would a deep brown suit be to your liking?"


    After another twenty minutes, during which Julian felt sweat bead on his forehead, Mr. Dumas finally wrapped up his explanations. Julian couldn''t help but feel relieved¡ªlucky, even, that the shop hadn''t accepted him as an apprentice back then. He certainly wouldn''t have survived!


    Then it was Mason''s turn. Nearly forty minutes later, both paper prototypes were complete. Mr. Dumas calculated the total cost and presented it to Julian. "Mr. Julian, for four suits and the rental agreement with Imperial Jewelry for accessories, the total is 3,700 dollars.


    However, given my oversight and the error by my staff that may have caused some confusion or dissatisfaction, I''m offering a reduced price of 3,300 dollars.


    "I must also remind you that the rental fee for the Imperial Jewelry accessories isn''t included. You''ll need to take the agreement to any Imperial Jewelry store to pay the rental fee, and a specialist will help you choose and wear the accessories. Any other questions?"


    Julian glanced at Mr. Dumas and smiled. "You''re a clever man, and I like clever people. Now, I''d like to get five membership cards. Is that possible?"


    Mr. Dumas, as if unaware of any prior issues, nodded readily. "Of course. It would be an honor for the Paul family to serve you. There will be no charge. I''ll arrange for five unlimited, nationwide membership cards immediately!"


    Dumas was undoubtedly a clever man. Not only did he have a remarkable talent in tailoring, but he also had profound expertise in social interaction and communication. When Julian didn''t present a membership certificate in the usual manner, Dumass immediately understood that, regardless of whether Julian was a member of Paul''s Tailoring, he at least needed to pass this immediate challenge.


    While tailor shops and clothing stores might not seem like the most information-laden places, the reality was quite the opposite. Most of Paul''s Tailoring clients were high-society individuals, who typically had access to the latest and fastest news.


    During the lengthy process of custom tailoring, it was unlikely they''d stay silent the entire time, dutifully cooperating with the tailors without saying a word.


    To pass the time, they would often chat with the tailor or discuss matters within their own circles with friends, allowing the tailors to pick up bits and pieces of information.


    Dumass had heard that recently, a young Guar named Julian had successively taken down "Wood the Lumberjack" and "Gador the Lizard," and was now one of the three major players in the city''s illicit alcohol industry, fending off resistance from the other two forces. Though the information about Julian was fragmented, Dumas had pieced together a fairly comprehensive understanding of him.


    Julian was a ruthless young man, but that wasn''t surprising; in a city as large as Ternell, ruthless young men were too numerous to count, hardly worth mentioning. What made Julian notable was that he wasn''t just ruthless; he was bold, audacious, and highly skilled in his dealings. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In just a few months, he had achieved things others couldn''t accomplish over a much longer period, even things they wouldn''t dare to imagine.


    Thus, when Dumas asked Julian''s name and Julian responded, Dumas knew he had to avoid crossing this figure. Perhaps he didn''t realize that three months ago, this now-prominent "big figure" had once sought a job with him, only to be politely turned down. If Dumas had known, he wouldn''t have charged three thousand or even three hundred; he wouldn''t have dared to ask for a single coin.


    He might have even thrown in some money himself to ensure Julian''s goodwill and appease his wrath.


    "I''ll arrange for someone to pick up the clothes. Goodbye, sir!" Julian waved his hand and left with Mason.


    Once they departed, a girl came over with teary eyes. "They didn''t trouble you, did they, Mr. Dumas?"

 Chapter 131: Chapter 131 Mason Join Ternell Police

    Dumas shook his head and placed Julian and Mason''s clothes at the top of the production line. Gentlemen differed from "thugs" like Julian. A gentleman wouldn''t excessively blame others'' foolishness for mistakes, but a thug would never admit his own errors, so Dumas knew what to do.


    Fortunately, the strict system allowed sufficient leeway between orders, so having someone cut the line wouldn''t delay the following deliveries¡ªa small blessing amidst the challenge.


    "Why didn''t you come to warn me?" At this moment, Mr. Dumas looked up at the girl. "You should''ve informed me immediately, instead of waiting until trouble was at my doorstep, young lady!"


    After leaving Paul''s Tailoring, Julian got into the car and simply said, "District police station," before falling into contemplation. Any enterprise needed both lawful and unconventional aspects to sustain itself. Certain gray industries, like the illegal alcohol business, could serve as quick, lucrative cash cows.


    However, for wider societal recognition, respect, and a place of status, one needed a legitimate identity and lawful businesses.


    The clothing industry was one of Julian''s considerations. In another world, the clothing industry was highly developed, especially in "luxury" and "world-renowned brands." Garments with mere tens of dollars in production costs could sell for thousands or even tens of thousands. In Julian''s understanding, apart from branding, what real difference did these clothes have from ordinary clothes?


    There might be some differences in fabric, as major brands had their own research facilities to create unique materials, but aside from that, there was mostly just design. They would send materials and styles to factories for processing, then re-import them to resell at massive markups, reaping hundredfold or thousandfold profits.


    In this world, fabric and design posed no issues at all. To this day, while the capitalists'' official spokespersons fervently advocated for "innovative knowledge like recipes to be protected and legislated," the Empire''s response remained sluggish.


    The reason lay in the New and Old Parties'' mutual exploitation of these recipes for profit, with no plans to relinquish this massive source of revenue anytime soon.


    Setting aside the issue of materials and design references, the remaining issue was production. The lack of mechanized production posed a significant challenge, but labor here was incredibly cheap. In some impoverished areas, as long as they provided food and paid a small wage, many would readily work under capital''s influence.


    Julian thought he could attempt to incorporate standardized clothing production as the first project for East Star and put it into action. His target wasn''t high-society big shots; instead, it was the middle and lower classes.


    Although selling clothes to them might not yield the same profits as custom-made clothes for elites, the middle and lower classes were the mainstream consumers, while the elite were only a small minority.


    Once they made a strong initial impact, such success would inevitably be replicable. They could quickly replicate this model across various regions of the Empire, seizing the market in a short time. By the time competitors reacted, Julian would have already cornered the market, firmly establishing an unassailable position whether through transformation or price wars.


    A sudden jolt as the car stopped snapped Julian out of his thoughts. Looking out of the window, he realized they''d arrived at the district police station, where Pronto was already walking out, holding his belly with a smug expression.


    Julian opened the door, his face beaming with enthusiasm as he stepped out and walked up to him. After a brief handshake, they headed inside. As they walked, Pronto asked, "What brings such an important figure like you here?" Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian didn''t hide his intentions. He raised his thumb and pointed behind him, "My brother, Mason¡ªI intend to set him up with a legitimate job. I heard a station chief is about to retire; it seems like a good opportunity." As they slowed for a moment, Julian gestured politely to a passing officer. "Excuse us," he said, slightly stepping aside as they continued inside.


    "I understand this might put you in a difficult position, but I assure you, I''ll make my intentions clear."


    He had a premonition!


    So, when he heard Julian bring up "sincerity" again, it made him uncomfortable. For the first time, he was genuinely afraid of accepting a bribe¡ªit was an unprecedented feeling!


    "This has nothing to do with sincerity!" Pronto pushed open his office door, holding the doorknob as he stepped inside. He waited for Julian and Mason to enter, then shut the door firmly. This was a signal to the secretary at the door: anyone visiting should notify Pronto first. Inside the director''s office, there was an inner room, a lounge for private moments when guests needed to step aside.


    He moved over to the bar and took out three glasses, intending to pour some liquor, but found the bottle empty. Glancing at the glasses in his hands, he resigned himself to moving to the coffee machine, where he poured three cups of coffee instead.


    Mason stood up and took the coffee Pronto handed over. Though he acted cautiously, he couldn''t help but feel a surge of pride¡ªafter all, the district police chief himself was pouring him a coffee. Turning his head slightly, he noticed Julian hadn''t even bothered to stand, and Pronto willingly set the coffee down in front of him.


    The three of them settled back down.


    "Yes, there is a director retiring soon," Pronto admitted, "but you should understand that I can''t just casually place a newcomer, someone without any foundation, into a substation chief position based on my personal preferences. The officers might not say anything directly, but internally, it could create turmoil. If their morale wavers and they turn away from me, that would be a huge loss.


    So, I say again, this has nothing to do with money." He lifted his glass and took a small sip of coffee, casting a glance at the earnest-faced Mason, wondering how these two could possibly be related by blood. He continued, "But if it''s for a sergeant position, that I can guarantee¡ªthere will be no issue whatsoever. Anytime, anywhere, even right now, I can arrange it."


    Julian, however, remained silent, reaching out to pinch the rim of his glass, rubbing it slowly as if he hadn''t heard Pronto''s reasoning at all.

 Chapter 132: Chapter 132 You Could Try, And Maybe Everything Would End

    The district police chief held considerable power. While agents from the Criminal Investigation Bureau could question a local chief, even starting an investigation would require a permit signed by a prominent figure in the State Bureau of Investigation. Even if Pronto appointed a dog as a substation chief, no one would dare object.


    Clearly, all his reasoning was meant to avoid making this arrangement.


    Mason couldn''t comprehend why Julian wasn''t satisfied. A sergeant position! In the past, Mason had dreamed of becoming a sergeant within three years of being an officer. He had imagined it would take considerable time and perhaps even a modest sum¡ªaround fifty dollars¡ªto make that dream come true.


    But now, with everything unfolding as it was, he found himself questioning his worldview and even his own worth. Despite being family, brothers, the gap between them felt immense.


    He longed for Julian to agree immediately, but after several glances at Julian''s calm demeanor, he wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew well enough that simply sitting in this office was already a privilege granted by Julian''s power, and he had no reason to disrupt Julian''s original intentions.


    Julian looked like an old man fond of antiques, his eyes fixated on that plain glass worth a mere dollar. Pronto frowned, intending to say something, but Julian looked up just then.


    With a bright, admiring smile, Julian''s gaze sparkled with genuine warmth as he spoke, his voice full of praise and envy, "Chief Pronto, I really envy you, truly!"


    Pronto''s heart tightened, though he kept his expression neutral. He didn''t know what this young man intended, but a chill crept up his spine, making his hair stand on end. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Oh? Is that so? I''m just an out-of-shape local police chief¡ªwhat''s there to envy?" He picked up a thick-bottomed glass from the table.


    "If anything, it''s you who should be envied¡ªyoung, successful, wealthy, and handsome. I should be the one envying you!"


    "Chief Pronto, you flatter me," Julian replied courteously, though this only made Pronto more uneasy. Watching Julian with a strained smile, he waited for Julian''s next move, but Julian''s following words made his expression change entirely.


    "I hear your family is very happy, Chief Pronto. A beautiful wife and lovely children¡ªisn''t that something everyone would envy?"


    In the next moment, Pronto smashed the glass to the floor, sending splashes of murky coffee everywhere. He drew his pistol, pointing it at Julian. "Are you spying on me and my family? I''ll kill you!" The always-smiling police chief now looked ferocious, his voice seething with menace. For him, family was a sacred boundary.


    While many powerful people held a distant view of "family," it didn''t stop them from fiercely defending the sanctity and sense of duty surrounding it.


    Perhaps the secretary outside had heard the glass shattering and wanted to investigate, or maybe she intended to clean up, for there was a knock on the door. Pronto''s response was a thunderous roar¡ª"Get out!"


    Mason was so startled he half-stood, clutching the back of the sofa, leaning back in fear as he stared in horror at Pronto''s sudden outburst.


    In contrast, Julian, who had caused this conflict, remained unfazed. For the first time, he lifted the glass and took a sip of coffee, commenting with disdain, "Tastes like burnt barley. I can never get used to it."


    "This is the first time someone has pointed a gun at my head," he remarked calmly. "You could try pulling the trigger, and maybe everything would end."


    "But I guarantee," Julian added, "you''d go on a journey you could hardly imagine."


    Pronto didn''t dare pull the trigger, even though he was certain that this shot would kill Julian without any consequences for himself. But he wasn''t willing to gamble; he had no idea what backup plans Julian had in place or what kind of retaliation might befall him and his family.


    Wood and Gador served as examples, with Gador being the most unfortunate¡ªhe died never understanding why he was abandoned, and it all stemmed from the man standing before him.


    It was Wood who dragged Gador into this, making him believe that getting rid of someone as seemingly insignificant as Julian would be as easy as squashing a bug. They severely misjudged the situation, and he was mysteriously killed, highlighting the meticulous planning and violent execution Julian was capable of.


    "I don''t like anyone using my family as leverage!" Pronto withdrew the gun slightly, a gesture of compromise. Julian, naturally, leaned back into the sofa, his expression remaining steady throughout. Pronto slowly holstered his pistol and sat down. "This won''t happen again. I''ll agree to this, but I need to reassure my subordinates.


    Every personnel change at the station is a form of motivation for them."


    With ease, Julian pulled a checkbook from his pocket, wrote out twenty thousand dollars, and signed his name¡ªa scrawl reminiscent of a third grader who had just learned to write continuous words, full of uncontrollable and unpredictable edges. He tore off the check, placed it on the coffee table between them, and pushed it forward.


    "A check from the Imperial Central Bank, redeemable anytime within the month." More than one person had advised Julian never to keep money in the bank, but he hadn''t listened. Was he supposed to stash cash in a cellar and watch it grow damp, moldy, and rot? Besides, money shouldn''t merely be accumulated. Money''s value is proven only in its "circulation," not by being hidden somewhere.


    From his dreams, he''d gathered enough information to know that the giant families and corporations never became world-class entities by leaving their money sitting in the bank. They either reinvested continuously into new projects or broke it down into investments to generate returns.


    Pronto glanced at the check on the coffee table, sighed, then picked it up, folded it carefully, and slipped it into his pocket. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    By now, Mason had settled back into his seat, faintly recalling what Julian had said in the car¡ªthat whether Pronto accepted Julian''s money was not up to him! This thought sent a slight shiver through Mason. Pronto had initially refused the money, but now he had taken it, proving he didn''t have the final say.

 Chapter 133: Chapter 133 A Person Doesnt Become Powerful Out Of Nowhere

    As Mason marveled at Julian''s eerie control over the situation, he noticed Julian standing up beside him and quickly followed suit.


    "Well, I look forward to your good news, Chief Pronto." Julian, just as he had when exiting the car, smiled warmly and extended his hand. Pronto glared at him with a hint of resentment, then reluctantly reached out and gave him a half-hearted handshake.


    "On the first of next month, have your brother report to¡­" Pronto paused, and Julian politely filled in, "East City Substation!"


    "Yes, the damn East City Substation. I''ll arrange everything. Now I have things to attend to, so¡­ I won''t be seeing you out."


    Julian didn''t take offense at Pronto''s coldness. After all, he had just threatened the man''s family; how could he expect a friendly farewell? He nodded with a smile and left Pronto''s office with Mason.


    Outside, Mason quietly asked, "Julian, I don''t quite understand. Shouldn''t you be friends with the chief? Why would you threaten him?" This was something Mason genuinely didn''t understand. "And couldn''t this cause other problems?"


    As they walked toward the police station''s exit, Julian explained in a low voice, "Friends? Don''t kid yourself. Have you ever heard of paying a friend ten thousand dollars just to get them to do something for you¡ªlet alone twenty thousand? He''s not my friend¡­" Julian''s brow furrowed slightly as a man reeking of alcohol and dressed sloppily, clearly drunk and unsteady on his feet, suddenly bumped into him.


    Julian steadied him and muttered, "Watch out," to which the man replied, "Thanks."


    Just a minor incident.


    The encounter broke Julian''s train of thought, and they quickened their pace back to the car. Once inside, Julian continued, "Even if I don''t fall out with him now, he''d eventually find a way to turn against me. There are many things you don''t know, Mason. My connection with Pronto was based on mutual exploitation from the start. It''s just that I''ve had more use for him, while he''s had little need for me. He might not show it, but he likely has some grievances against me. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Besides, Dave''s affair with Mrs. Vivian has humiliated the mayor. He''s bound to eliminate anything that brings him shame. While Fire Skull might not be effective on its own, combined with the police, it''s a sure bet. Rather than wait to hand over the advantage, I may as well secure the benefits now. That way, when a showdown does happen, I won''t be at a complete disadvantage."


    Mason''s mind struggled to keep up with the complex logic at play, bewildered by how entangled everything had become. He chuckled nervously and asked, "But what if he goes back on his word? Kicks me out of the substation¡ªwouldn''t the twenty thousand go to waste?"


    After closing the car door, Julian shook his head. "You''re wrong. There''s nothing to worry about. You''re in that position because of me, and as long as I''m alive, Pronto won''t lay a finger on you. He''s a shrewd one."


    Just as Julian said, Pronto was indeed cunning. If he acted against Mason while Julian was still alive, not only would it provoke fierce retaliation, but he would also lose his last buffer.


    So, he would certainly wait, taking action only when the dust settled, dealing with Mason once Julian was gone. If that day came, he could easily assign some trumped-up charge and make Mason''s life miserable for years.


    At present, he endured Julian''s threats not only because he had no idea what backup plans the young lunatic might have but also because he was waiting and investigating.


    A person doesn''t become powerful out of nowhere¡ªthere had to be some change that enabled Julian''s rise. Once Pronto fully understood Julian''s background and confirmed there was nothing troublesome or that Julian wasn''t some pawn of a powerful figure, he would make his move.


    Pronto had eliminated more than one wealthy person who had threatened him; those who crossed him were never forgotten


    "What''s this?"


    Julian entered the office, picking up a beautifully packaged bottle of strong liquor from the table and giving it a shake. Dave stifled a laugh, looking out at the street through the window.


    Julian called him a "little rascal" with a chuckle, then twisted off the cap, pouring half a small one-inch glass. He took a sniff¡ªthe scent was slightly sweet¡ªand then a small sip. There was a hint of icy coolness mixed with the familiar sweet-sour taste; it was Snow Sprite.


    "Did this come from the farm''s latest batch?" he asked, settling into his desk chair and finishing the drink in one gulp. "Not bad. It''s even better than Snow Sprite, and the packaging is pretty attractive. Which smart kid came up with this?"


    Talent is something that''s never fully sufficient to meet market demand. If someone had the skill to improve the flavor and packaging of Snow Sprite, leaving them in a basic role would be disrespectful to their talent and irresponsible for the business.


    Julian decided to promote this person to the head of the trade company''s beverage division, granting them enough power and funding to continue enhancing the product.


    Constant innovation is the lifeblood of a product, as people are naturally drawn to new things.


    But what Dave said next wiped the smile off Julian''s face.


    "This isn''t our product!" Then he added, "And it''s actively encroaching on our market!" He finished with the clincher: "Most importantly, I''ve found that they''re using raw materials sourced from our products."


    Julian had asked everyone to use the term "products" instead of "bootleg liquor."


    Over the past few days, a new bootleg drink called "First Love" had been spreading through Ternell, more appealing to younger customers and packaged in bright, colorful designs that conveyed higher quality and sophistication.


    With its familiar taste, many assumed it was Julian''s latest product aimed at competing with Ernst and Carrell. Many bars had sent people to contact Dave, hoping to buy First Love directly in bulk and stop stocking Snow Elf.

 Chapter 134: Chapter 134 The Omnipotent Power Of Money

    The problem was, this product wasn''t being made at the farm.The subtle differences in flavor hinted that whoever was producing First Love was likely a professional with well-equipped facilities. They had purchased Snow Elf, then performed a second round of processing, resulting in a more refined taste and upscale packaging to sell at a higher price. They hadn''t done much¡ªjust added a few flavorings and swapped out the packaging.


    These people were talented!


    Julian looked up at Dave. "Can we find them?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "I think it''s possible. If they''re using Snow Elf as a base, it means that to expand, they''ll need to buy a lot more Snow Elf."


    Julian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "First, pull the order sheets for the last four weeks and see if there''s been a noticeable increase in any bar''s sales. Then send people to the bars and check if there have been any unusually lavish customers buying multiple bottles of Snow Elf at once.


    "If we manage to find them, don''t harm anyone. Just bring them in." Julian rapped his knuckles on the table twice. "Get to it!"


    Dave gave a slight bow, then left quickly. Julian looked at the beautifully packaged bottle on the table, shaking his head with a smile. Was this a display of their skills or a direct challenge to Julian?


    The next two days passed without incident¡ªsteady shipments, steady payments, with barely a ripple¡ªuntil Julian''s new suit was delivered.


    Heidler had repeatedly invited him to meet, wanting to discuss the future of their association. To be honest, Julian didn''t want too much to do with this collaborator, but he did need someone "special" to keep him updated on information from the higher-ups, just in case someone influential in Ternell City or Kanros State took an interest in him and moved against him without his knowledge.


    Information, whether in development or in war, is a vital factor. Falling behind means enduring a string of disadvantages. As long as Heidler hadn''t yet given up on Julian or the association, he''d use this opportunity as much as he could. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Changing into the suit Dumas had sewn himself, Julian didn''t feel as though he''d suddenly become an elite member of society. In fact, he found it less comfortable than his usual attire. The slight restriction made him feel a bit restless, almost with an urge to break free. But he knew this suit, costing hundreds of dollars, wasn''t meant for escape games.


    Once again, he climbed into the same car. This time, there was no one telling him what to do or what not to do¡ªjust silence the whole way.


    When he arrived, Julian got out and gave Lamas, who wore a particularly serious expression, a meaningful glance before turning and leaving.


    Julian held grudges.


    As a child, the neighbor''s dog had eaten his stool and bitten his backside while he was doing his business. He spent nearly a month preparing a small trap for it. Farmers in the countryside often had to protect themselves from wild animals, so trap-making was a common skill. Julian dug a simple spiked pit, then lured the dog over with a special scent.


    He watched the dog panic as it fell into the trap, listening to its desperate cries. Standing at the edge, he waited a long time, watching until the dog took its last breath, then ran home, screaming, to tell Mr. Kesma what had happened.


    That evening, they enjoyed a delicious and rather special dinner.


    Julian held grudges.


    This time, when he met Heidler, there was a hint less arrogance in Heidler''s demeanor. To him, Ternell might just be a temporary stop in his career, a place he''d leave once his term ended. But here, and now, the young man before him had taught him the true spelling of "miracle"¡ªspelled "Julian."


    Heidler personally poured Julian a drink, then sat down across from him, swirling his glass and lifting it slightly. "To the omnipotent power of money!"


    "That''s a truth I can agree with!" Julian lifted his glass and took a small sip.


    Setting down his glass, Heidler crossed one leg over the other, pressing his fingertips together and resting them on his knee. "Come work for me!"


    During this time, Julian''s dazzling performance was so striking that even Heidler found it hard to ignore. Initially, when the conflict between Julian and Wood broke out, Heidler''s instinct was to abandon Julian entirely, never see him again, and certainly not step in to save his life if he failed.


    In Heidler''s view, Julian''s reckless conflict with Wood was foolish. Wood had established himself here for years; how could a newcomer like Julian expect to topple him so easily? Anyone worthy of being called a mogul had a bloody history behind them.


    Heidler had predicted Julian wouldn''t last a week¡ªthat he''d end up a corpse floating down the Agate River or vanish without a trace, as if he''d never been there.


    But then, a surprising reversal left Heidler wide-eyed. He couldn''t understand how Wood, who was undeniably powerful, lost without even exerting a fraction of his strength, while Julian¡ªthis seemingly lucky kid¡ªemerged as the final victor.


    Then Gador committed suicide at the police station, with all signs pointing back to Julian. It was then that Heidler began to thoroughly examine Julian, scrutinizing his every move.


    He concluded that Julian was ruthless, opportunistic, and skilled at seizing chances. His decisiveness was beyond his years, more reminiscent of an old hand who had experienced multiple ups and downs.


    Heidler finally understood what made Julian remarkable¡ªhis skill in understanding human nature and his keen sense of timing. He had exploited the deaths of Wood''s associates to provoke Wood, forcing him to confront Julian. In gang circles, there was an old saying: "Rise by me, fall by me." In simple terms, it meant not involving others, including family, in conflicts.


    If Wood had slowed down, strategically pacing himself in confrontations rather than rushing into battle with Julian, who was always prepared, he might have won. Julian couldn''t have withstood more than three or five confrontations.


    But Wood was overconfident, which gave Julian the opportunity to settle it in a single fight. One could say Wood''s arrogance led to his downfall, but it could also be said that Julian lit the perfect spark for his own victory.

 Chapter 135: Chapter 135 Potential Collaboration

    Then Gador was implicated and took his own life at the police station.Julian was a clever, decisive, and ruthless individual. If Heidler could bring someone like him into his fold, he felt his career could advance by at least two more levels. Looking at Julian, Heidler couldn''t contain the eagerness in his gaze, longing for Julian to nod and give him the answer he wanted.


    Julian avoided his gaze, lowering his head to look at the teacup on the saucer in front of him. Petals floated in the tea, slowly unfurling in the warm liquid. He picked up the cup, took a sip, and savored the rich floral aroma mixed with a subtle sweet and sour taste¡ªa new experience for his palate. He took another sip before setting the cup down.


    "Thank you for your hospitality, but what I''m about to say may disappoint you," Julian said, nodding slightly in acknowledgment. "I am deeply grateful for your invitation, which is both recognition and affirmation of me. I am truly thankful."


    This last statement held a hidden meaning. Among the Guar, there was a proverb: "Give food to the poor, and you''ll earn gratitude; give it to the nobility, and you''ll earn resentment." Poor people, often starving due to poverty, might find a meal helpful in filling their stomachs, enabling them to go out and work. To them, this is an act of kindness.


    But offering the same gift to nobility is not seen as help¡ªit''s an insult. When did nobles ever need handouts to fill their bellies? If not an insult, what else could it be?


    By speaking this way, Julian not only rejected Heidler''s offer but also made his stance clear: he would never become anyone''s subordinate.


    Heidler sighed with regret. Had he extended the invitation sooner, would things have ended differently? He didn''t know, and neither did Julian. When Julian had first arrived in Ternell, it was impossible to predict whether he would have rejected Heidler''s offer. But the past was now in the past, and there was no use pondering it. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Besides, at that time, Heidler had no way of knowing where this young farmer from the countryside had come from. Now, Julian had spread his wings. While he might seem like an aggressive fledgling to the powerful, he held boundless potential. Sadly, it was too late to make him fight for Heidler.


    After the rejection, Heidler didn''t bring up the association again. He now understood that the association was only significant with Julian''s involvement; without him, it would just be an empty shell. Though Julian wouldn''t become Heidler''s follower, it didn''t prevent potential collaboration between them.


    They then shifted to light conversation, and Heidler casually mentioned a recent event in Olodo. While rallying support for the midterm elections, processions from the New Party and the Old Party clashed unexpectedly. The result was an unplanned, violent brawl. In the scuffle, four people died, over thirty were injured, and more than ten were left in critical condition.


    The governor quickly issued a statement, declaring that unstable, malicious forces had incited the conflict, and he promised to find evidence and bring those responsible to justice. While this was just small talk, Julian gleaned insights about Heidler''s political stance.


    Though Heidler''s description seemed neutral, it was worth noting that Heidler was an Old Party man; his father had pledged loyalty to the nobles and the emperor. Heidler''s neutral account of the conflict raised questions about what he was implying.


    Since taking office, the new governor had little influence or recognition in Kanros State. In this stronghold of the Old Party, the new governor had clearly been sidelined. Although he had made slight progress over the past two years, the situation remained dire.


    The Old Party dominated Kanros State''s various cities, with only three out of nine cities in New Party control¡ªa number so low it was almost frightening.


    The bedridden governor retained most of the state''s power, controlling significant authority and its distribution, leading people to call him the "invisible governor."


    Perhaps that was why Heidler had shared this story, and in an instant, Julian understood.


    In business, there are many ties that can''t easily be broken, and forcibly severing them only leads to harm¡ªfor example, the bond with a mentor.


    In this world, the relationship between a teacher and disciple, while not as formal as in the dream world, still serves as a measure of one''s morality. It fulfills the expectations people have for ethical behavior, especially in those who don''t adhere to strict moral principles themselves. There is another type of relationship: the political mentor.


    During the Old Party''s feudal rule, the tradition or phenomenon of political mentorship had existed for a long time. One noble would introduce another into a political interest group, allowing the mentor to gain political benefits regardless of the disciple''s future achievements.


    Now, with both the New and Old Parties coexisting, this phenomenon hasn''t faded with the New Party''s rise; instead, it has become a core element in political interactions.


    If Julian guessed correctly, Heidler wanted to become his mentor, introducing him to a political figure and establishing a connection between them.


    Among the Guar, there are extremists who strive to make the old traitors pay for their actions. Many of those traitors are long dead, but their descendants have become new targets for these people. Heidler, for instance, had received numerous death threats, warning that he''d face ultimate judgment.


    Once Heidler and Julian had a mentor-mentee relationship, Julian would have to stand by Heidler''s side if he faced threats¡ªunless he no longer wanted to advance politically.


    The irony is almost laughable: these shameless people, who readily discard anything for personal gain, also yearn for others'' loyalty. Perhaps it''s precisely because they lack it themselves that they value and desire it so intensely.


    This wasn''t the outcome Julian wanted. He didn''t want Heidler''s friendship, nor did he want him as a mentor. Deep down, Julian harbored a dangerous thought¡ªhe planned to personally send Heidler to face judgment if necessary, gaining more support from the Guar. Agreeing to Heidler''s offer was out of the question.

 Chapter 136: Chapter 136 This Wont End So Simply

    The prolonged silence made Heidler frown slightly. He wasn''t sure if he had been unclear, if this brilliant young man hadn''t understood his intentions, or if he was deliberately playing dumb to avoid the matter. Either way, it wasn''t to Heidler''s liking; the former suggested that Julian was clever but lacked political maturity, while the latter¡­That would be too frightening!


    "This is an invitation to a charity gala the evening after tomorrow. I hope you''ll attend. It''s time for you to make a public appearance and show who you are." Heidler wasn''t giving up and handed Julian an invitation.


    Charity galas were interesting events: a gathering of wealthy businessmen and politicians, shedding fake tears for the social underclass, whom they exploit to the point of poverty. They donate to the poor and then turn around and exploit them again, all while gaining a good reputation and political clout. Truly masterful.


    The invitation seat was right beside Heidler''s, meaning that if Julian attended, there would be no way to avoid the association between them, regardless of any explanation he might offer later. They were both Guar, the invitation came from Heidler, and they would be seated together.


    Julian knew he''d rejected Heidler twice already, which was enough. Another refusal could bring unforeseen trouble. After a brief thought, he slipped the invitation into his pocket.


    Heidler exhaled, taking a sip of tea. "I know you''re busy with your affairs. Thank you for coming today."


    Julian stood up at the right moment, bowed slightly, and took his leave.


    Although Heidler was a relatively weak member of the main chamber of commerce, he was still stronger than Julian. Until he had enough power, Julian didn''t intend to create any overt conflict with Heidler.


    Watching Julian''s composed figure retreat, Heidler sat in his chair, lost in thought.


    Outside, Lamas and the car were already waiting for Julian. He walked over but didn''t get in immediately, instead lowering his head to look at his shoes. They were not particularly expensive dress shoes, but Julian preferred them to boots. The shoes were clean, at least for now, but after inspecting them for a while, he finally spoke.


    "My shoes are dirty."


    A flush of blood crept over Lamas''s clean-shaven face. Clenching his teeth, he pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket, opened it with a flick, and prepared to kneel to clean Julian''s shoes. But Julian stopped him.


    Looking down with a slight bow, Julian''s face against the sky and sun in the background, he pressed a hand on Lamas''s shoulder and smiled. "This won''t end so simply."


    The instructions Lamas gave him on his first visit had irritated Julian, but not to an unbearable degree. Julian understood that big shots had their quirks, and as a small player, he had no choice but to comply.


    However, when Lamas wiped the seat with his handkerchief and then discarded it, that was a real insult to his dignity. That was something Julian couldn''t forgive, and he''d remember it for a lifetime.


    As Julian had said, it wouldn''t end that easily. If kneeling to clean someone''s shoes could erase all enmity, what would be the point of police, judges, and lawyers?


    Meanwhile, just two streets away, Mrs. Vivian was clutching her cheek, staring in disbelief at her husband, who had never shown such anger.


    "Wretch!" The mayor, usually calm and composed, was now like a wounded bull, kicking Mrs. Vivian in the stomach. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing heavy, and his shirt sleeves rolled up, exposing his hairy forearms.


    "Who is he?" The mayor rolled up his sleeves, looking far from the refined demeanor of an elite. He paced back and forth, occasionally glancing at Mrs. Vivian, who sat silently on the edge of the bed. If not for the servant telling him today that her sanitary cloths hadn''t been used, he would never have known!


    Sanitary cloths are long strips of pure cotton filled with absorbent material, used by women during their menstrual period. Poor people use simpler versions¡ªjust cloth strips that can be washed, dried, and reused. But for a family of the mayor''s standing, these are disposable items, and each month, new ones are delivered by the servants.


    However, this time, the maid found last month''s sanitary cloths still neatly in the drawer. She knew that Mrs. Vivian was possibly pregnant and excitedly shared the news with the housekeeper. The servants had been somewhat worried; given the mayor and Mrs. Vivian''s age, they still had no children. For them, this was an unsettling situation, as it meant one of them was unable to fulfill the family''s need for an heir, a potential disaster for the family legacy. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    If their employers grew too old to have children, the servants would consider seeking employment elsewhere rather than "hanging themselves on a single tree," waiting until the old master died and the family reclaimed their assets, leaving the servants dismissed.


    So, Mrs. Vivian''s pregnancy was a joyful event for all the household staff.


    But the problem was¡­ the child in Mrs. Vivian''s womb was not the mayor''s.


    When the housekeeper, with a beaming smile, delivered this happy news and congratulations to Peter, this was the result.


    Peter''s cold gaze held a seething anger. He knew Mrs. Vivian had dalliances with young men, but he didn''t care much. From the moment he met her, his goal wasn''t love but interest. He tolerated her affairs and could even overlook her trysts outside; these were the consequences of the deception he had inflicted upon her.


    Likewise, he himself had several mistresses and even suspected that he was the one unable to conceive an heir. This only made him more lenient with her, but there was one line¡ªMrs. Vivian was not to form any emotional attachments, and under no circumstances was she to get pregnant. This was something he couldn''t tolerate and would never forgive.


    He placed one hand on his golden belt buckle, unfastened it, and slowly pulled the belt from his waist, wrapping it around his arm so that a length of it hung free. Despite his near-madness, he retained a basic sense of control.


    He knew he couldn''t injure Mrs. Vivian too severely, let alone kill her. No matter how many years the old man lying on the bed could live, as long as he was alive, the mayor had to bow to his power.

 Chapter 137: Chapter 137 The Mayor Investigates the Childs Father

    He swung his arm with force, the leather belt slicing through the air with a sharp sound, landing on Mrs. Vivian''s arm. A red welt appeared instantly on her exposed skin, quickly swelling."Wretch! Tell me who did this, or I won''t let you off today!" Peter''s voice trembled slightly as he spoke, but he controlled his rage, refraining from shouting, instead biting his words with a low, gritted tone. He swung the belt again, striking Mrs. Vivian''s shoulder with a loud crack, the belt curling around to hit her back.


    Enraged, Peter lunged forward, tearing at Mrs. Vivian''s clothes, his teeth clenched and his eyes flashing with a fierce light as he whipped her repeatedly with the belt.


    After an unknown amount of time, Mrs. Vivian lay on the floor, her body covered in red welts, breathing heavily. Only then did Peter''s anger subside. He tossed aside the now-deformed belt, adjusted his sleeves, straightened his shirt, and gave Mrs. Vivian a disdainful glance before leaving. Just as the door was about to close, his voice echoed back.


    "I''ll find him, even if you don''t say a word!"


    After venting his rage, the mayor felt much better. He went to the dining room, sat down, and asked the housekeeper to bring him a strong fruit liqueur with three ice cubes. He beckoned to the housekeeper, who leaned down, attentive to his instructions.


    "How many people know about Mrs. Vivian''s pregnancy?"


    The mayor''s cold tone and icy gaze sent a chill through the housekeeper, who replied in a low voice, "Three maids and one servant woman know about it. I''ve told them to keep it quiet until the news is confirmed."


    "Well done!" The mayor pointed at the housekeeper, grabbing a bright red fruit from the table''s fruit tray, biting into it fiercely. The cold, tangy juice stimulated his taste buds, with red juice splattering from his mouth onto the clear table. "Get rid of them¡ªall of them. Do it quietly. I don''t want to hear another word about this. Understand?"


    The housekeeper''s heart skipped a beat. Although he didn''t fully understand why, he resolved to carry out his master''s orders with unwavering loyalty.


    "Call Mrs. Vivian''s driver. I have questions for him." The mayor waved him away, and the housekeeper, despite a flicker of pity in his eyes, quickly replaced it with determination.


    Soon after, Mrs. Vivian''s personal driver stood before the mayor, visibly uneasy. Although he served Mrs. Vivian, he rarely saw the mayor, and even as a couple, they seldom appeared together. Nervously, he bowed his head, addressing him as "Mr. Mayor."


    Peter crossed his legs, feeling a rare sense of satisfaction from his recent "activities," even allowing a faint smile to appear. "Where has Mrs. Vivian been going most often lately?"


    The driver dared not lie, as the very act of standing here left him breathless, and he had no courage to deceive.


    "Recently, Madam has often visited the Delier Art Gallery, where she frequently buys paintings and other artworks."


    The mayor was familiar with Delier. From his first day in Ternell, he''d known of him. Delier had friends in the capital, but due to some personal scandals, he was expelled and settled in Ternell, a small town where he made a living selling so-called "art pieces." Mrs. Vivian had brought back many things from his gallery, some of which the mayor had appraised, only to receive the verdict that they were "worthless."


    But, given Mrs. Vivian''s enthusiasm for art and the ladies'' tea gatherings she hosted at Delier''s gallery, he had turned a blind eye. The money wasn''t his, after all, so there was no need to feel troubled over spending it.


    But Delier¡­ No, it couldn''t be him!


    The mayor looked up and said, "Bring Delier here. Tell him it''s an invitation to be my guest¡ªright now!"


    "Right, lift it a little here to give it that Marbudura style..." Delier gently adjusted the young artist''s hand, guiding him in making precise markings on the canvas. These lines carried an abstract quality that most people wouldn''t easily grasp¡ªmarks that could be called "art" for their uniqueness and subtle detail. The beauty of art often lies in its mystery, challenging conventional understanding.


    Delier admired the boy''s dedication and enthusiasm for the craft. The energy and creativity of the young artists around him filled him with inspiration. He walked along the row of canvases, offering gentle words of encouragement and constructive feedback to the children. His genuine passion for teaching art was evident, and he took pride in helping each student grow their skills and confidence.


    Among the children, his eye was particularly drawn to a girl and a boy whose promising talent stood out. Delier imagined them thriving at a prestigious art academy and someday making their mark in the art world. The thought filled him with a sense of purpose and fulfillment.


    His reflections were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps. Surprised, Delier turned to see who had entered, his arms crossing in curiosity. It was Mrs. Vivian''s driver, whose unexpected arrival signaled that something urgent might be happening.


    Delier''s face changed instantly¡ªhis "artist" speed of changing expressions was world-class. He quickly put on a welcoming smile, preparing to ask why Mrs. Vivian hadn''t come in, but the driver spoke first. "The mayor has requested your presence. I hope you won''t make this difficult for me."


    Delier''s expression shifted slightly. He instructed his assistant to watch over the children, tidied his clothes, applied a bit of makeup, and then followed the driver back to the mayor''s estate.


    This was Delier''s second close encounter with the mayor. The first time had been at an art auction hosted by the chamber of commerce, where he was appraising some artworks for Mrs. Vivian.


    The mayor had been present, but after a polite greeting, they exchanged no further words before the mayor left abruptly. So, this was technically their second face-to-face meeting, and it left Delier feeling slightly uncomfortable. He couldn''t say why, but he felt uneasy. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 138: Chapter 138 A Different Sense Of Art

    "I hear Mrs. Vivian''s been buying quite a few expensive pieces from you. Is that right?" The mayor didn''t open with the topic he wanted to discuss, but rather started with something trivial and unrelated. "It''s clear that she loves art; those pieces are piling up in a storage room."During the mayor''s speech, Delier could only force a smile, nodding nervously. He knew the "true nature" of his art pieces. Put simply, they were his way of covering up his service fees for arranging meetings for noblewomen.


    Direct monetary transactions would raise too many suspicions, but paying for "art" was far more acceptable. Since everyone''s taste in art differs, one person might see an artwork as worthless, while another might view it as priceless. This subjective and highly personalized method of payment allowed Delier to avoid many complications and remain well-hidden. To this day, few people truly understood what his business entailed.


    "What do you think your so-called ''art pieces'' are worth?" The mayor''s seemingly friendly smile gave Delier an odd sense of danger.


    "Um... they''re worth something, I guess?" Delier ventured cautiously, relieved when the mayor didn''t outright reject his answer. He relaxed a bit and continued, "Art is difficult to understand, much like Mr. Mark''s


    Genesis


    ¡ªit''s just a multicolored circle on a canvas, yet I could easily paint something similar. However, the meaning of what I create wouldn''t compare to the esteemed reputation of


    Genesis


    ."


    He continued earnestly, "Everyone has a different sense of art, whether high or low, but art itself is priceless!"


    The mayor nodded thoughtfully. "You have a point, but I brought in prominent artists from Olodo and the capital to appraise the pieces you sold to Mrs. Vivian. They said your works don''t even measure up to those of a beginner. What do you think of that?"


    Of course they didn''t measure up. Those were just casual doodles, their sole purpose to cover for "other expenses." There was no way he''d sell genuine artwork to those noblewomen. Delier offered only an awkward smile, choosing not to argue¡ªhe knew that remaining silent was wiser than trying to explain.


    Seeing the moment was right, the mayor spoke slowly, "I know what you do, and I know what they do. Now, I don''t care to interfere in your business; just tell me who Mrs. Vivian has been spending time with recently."


    Delier fell silent. He knew that one day someone would uncover his business, but he hadn''t expected it to happen so soon, and certainly not by someone with this much authority.


    "Unwilling to talk?" The mayor shook his head. "Or do you think that silence will let you escape an unavoidable question?"


    Delier maintained his silence. The next second, the mayor grabbed a heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table and smashed it onto Delier''s head. They say bones are hard, but even the hardest bone can''t shield soft skin. Blood trickled down from Delier''s forehead, his vision turning black as bursts of light danced before his eyes. Dizzy with the sensation of spinning, he struggled to keep his focus.


    With a loud thud, his head was knocked to one side again, and a hot stream poured from his nose. He reached up to feel his face¡ªnot blood this time, but a clear liquid. Realizing the imminent danger, he raised his arms to shield his head. Only then, as his arms throbbed with intense pain, did he scream, but the mayor had already ordered that no one was to enter.


    "See? Guarding a secret could cost you your life, but if you speak up, there''s nothing to lose." The mayor, breathing heavily, tossed the ashtray back onto the coffee table and sat down again. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his hands, the bright red staining the cloth in alarming spots.


    "Jon?" Pronto looked in confusion at the expensive letterhead bearing only a single name. Completely bewildered, he glanced up at the mayor''s butler. Being disturbed from a sweet slumber early in the morning was hardly pleasing, especially since today was his day off. If it weren''t for the clout of the person knocking, Pronto would have gladly retaliated against this unwelcome disturbance.


    The brown paper with woodgrain was edged with a layer of gold¡ªgold foil stamping¡ªand carried a faint fragrance. The name "Jon" was written in an artistic, elegant script. The letterhead alone must have cost a small fortune, and it was used simply to convey one name, highlighting the prestige of the sender.


    "I''m sorry, but who is this Jon?" Pronto asked, still puzzled.


    The butler responded patiently, "Jon is a young man who frequently visits the Delier Art Gallery. He''s around fifteen or sixteen, very fair and handsome, with a strong build. His hair has a slight touch of silver, making him easy to recognize. The mayor wants you to investigate him discreetly and see if anyone might be directing him from behind the scenes."


    "Very well, I''ve delivered the message. I''ll take my leave now." The butler tipped his hat, bowed, and left. Watching the butler''s retreating figure, Pronto frowned.


    He was growing increasingly irritated. In theory, as the district police chief, he and these mayors and council members were of nearly equal standing. But to both the mayor and the councilmen, he was more like a family servant¡ªsomeone to command as they pleased.


    Doing his job correctly rarely brought any rewards; to those in power, doing things right was simply what was expected. As police chief, his main duty wasn''t just to maintain public order but also to handle the trouble these leaders threw his way. This wasn''t the first or second time he''d dealt with such a matter. Recently, Mrs. Vivian had asked him to arrest someone, and now it was the mayor''s turn.


    Despite his irritation, Pronto had no choice but to comply. He hastily donned the uniform he had set aside for tomorrow, put on his hat, slapped his cheeks to look more alert, took a deep breath, and hurried out of his house.


    S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 139: Chapter 139 A Dangerous Incident

    Before long, everyone in the area had heard the news: Pronto was looking for a young man named Jon. Anyone who provided information would receive Pronto''s protection and a large reward. Soon, forces big and small were out combing the city for this Jon.While the search for Jon raged outside, the real "Jon" remained hidden and calm at the farm.


    "I''m sorry!" Dave lowered his head in shame, needing to apologize to Julian for failing him. Julian''s request had been for Dave to subtly relay some information to Mrs. Vivian, thus influencing her judgment and planting a figure favorable to the association by the mayor''s side¡ªnot to form a relationship with her.


    Some may think feelings are uncontrollable, but in truth, humans have the rational capacity to manage their emotions. This is why there are so many con artists and heartbreaks in the world.


    Dave shouldn''t have allowed himself to form any attachment to Mrs. Vivian, let alone let her get pregnant¡ªthat was the real disaster.


    This could all have been avoided, but under their shared indulgence, things had spiraled out of control.


    Julian waved his hand dismissively, but to be honest, he was deeply agitated. He had the urge to smash something to vent his... frustration? After all the work of gathering a group of misfits, the association, and the trade company, everything was finally on track, only for a minor incident to threaten to destroy it all.


    He wasn''t being paranoid¡ªthe mayor''s influence in the city was enormous. Before the New Party''s rule, the mayor''s title was "governor," with authority over every affair in the city, holding every string of power.


    Even though the New Party had reduced the "governor" role to "mayor," the position still held considerable power, far beyond what a small businessman like Julian could challenge.


    If the mayor traced this back, he would likely deduce that someone was orchestrating the events between Dave and Mrs. Vivian. Even if he didn''t, Julian, as Dave''s "boss," would be within the line of fire.


    Logic told Julian that the best course now was to gather his assets and flee with everyone, escaping at least the areas under Old Party influence if not going far away.


    But his instincts told him that if he chose to flee rather than face his challenges, he''d likely spend the rest of his life running. His dream of an economic empire would remain just that¡ªa dream¡ªbecause he couldn''t bear such a burden or responsibility.


    Watching Julian pace back and forth, his face twisted with worry, Dave finally mustered up the courage to speak, "Julian, I''ll turn myself in." The surrounding associates all turned their gazes on Dave, thinking he''d lost his mind. Turning himself in would mean certain death, and it would be neither easy nor dignified. By now, Julian had explained everything to everyone; he had no right to keep such a disaster hidden. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian paused mid step, turned, and without a word, slapped Dave so hard he was lifted off his toes, stumbling backward.


    "Fool!"


    "Utter idiot!"


    Julian roared, pacing faster, his gaze fixed on Dave.


    "I guarantee that if you surrender, in less than three days, the association will be finished, I''ll be finished, everyone will be finished!" He pointed at Dave, marching over and kicking him in the shoulder, sending him sprawling.


    "You think what you''re doing is selfless? Wrong! You''re just a small time player, a pitiful one at that. Big players don''t quell their anger over the life or death of one nobody¡ªit takes the deaths of many small players to satisfy them!"


    "Instead of considering turning yourself in, I suggest you think about how to kill that bastard instead!"


    "How about we kill him?" Dave''s tone was sinister, as if this was the best solution he could think of¡ªkilling the mayor. With the mayor dead, all their problems would vanish: no one would continue searching for Jon, and there would be no further threat to the association. But was it really that simple? Would assassinating the mayor truly solve everything?


    No, of course, it wouldn''t be that simple. If a politician died under suspicious circumstances, what would be the first thought?


    A conspiracy!


    A cover up!


    If a prominent Old Party member, and a city mayor no less, were mysteriously assassinated¡ªeven assuming Dave and his companions could somehow breach the mayor''s heavily guarded defenses, kill him like the legendary assassin god Futhesine, and then quietly escape without anyone noticing¡ªit would still be pointless.


    The death of such a prominent Old Party figure would undoubtedly be labeled as a "political assassination," and to savvy politicians, a person''s death can sometimes be more valuable than their life. People tend to sympathize with "victims." Exploiting this so called political event to attack the New Party and tarnish its reputation, the Old Party would pressure the New Party into launching a full scale investigation into the mayor''s death, either to clear its own name or uncover who was setting them up.


    At that point, with both the New and Old Parties involved, along with opportunistic politicians, businessmen, and moguls eager to gain from the chaos, Julian had no doubt he''d be betrayed. The association and Eastern Star would be reduced to mere dust beneath the wheels of history, burying the insignificant truth.


    It was even likely that the mayor himself was anticipating Jon and his "associates" to act recklessly, maximizing the political benefits he could reap from it.


    If Julian wanted to weather this storm safely, the only option was a direct approach¡ªthrough politics.


    In Julian''s extended dream, he had observed many powerful figures with a distinct trait: they were all intensely goal oriented. Businessmen would say they were opportunistic, while politicians might call it strong political ambition.


    Clenching the slip of paper in his pocket, Julian decided to reach out to the man named Shaun. He felt it was time to have a conversation.


    He cast a harsh look at Dave. "Get dressed and come with me!"

 Chapter 140: Chapter 140 Lets Work Together

    Life without telephones wasn''t ideal, but having a phone didn''t make things much better either. There was reportedly a phone network in the capital and other places, but it was still primitive, requiring operators to connect calls manually. In this process, conversations weren''t secure, as they could be intercepted and recorded. People still preferred traditional, face-to-face meetings for private discussions.Julian arranged to meet Shaun at the northern docks of Ternell. The docks were built on a tributary of the Agate River, with shallow waters that suited Ternell¡ªa city mainly dependent on rail transportation¡ªjust fine. Every evening at dusk, dockworkers would gradually leave, and the empty, darkened docks would give off a chilling vibe, as if something darker than the night lay hidden beneath it, like stepping into a mystical, foreboding realm.


    Under the moonlight, Julian sat alone on a bench by Dock No. 2 at Pier 3, while Dave hid nearby. Both of them carried guns, just in case.


    Around nine o''clock, as Julian was beginning to feel the chill, a drunkard holding a bottle stumbled toward him. Julian instinctively slipped his hand into his pocket. Unlike a train station, a dock typically had no cargo at night, so it was rare to see a soul after working hours, especially in such a remote area. Could this person be Shaun?


    "You''re early!" Before Julian could speak, the drunkard spoke first, staggering over to sit on the bench beside him. He suddenly raised his head and started to vomit. The sour, rancid smell was unbearable, and Julian covered his nose and moved to another bench. After a while, Shaun wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and came over.


    Now seeming much more alert, with his eyes bright, Shaun looked Julian over and chuckled. "I''ve been wanting to meet you for a while, but better late than never. Let me formally introduce myself¡ªShaun Connors, senior agent with the Imperial Security Bureau."


    "I bet you''re wondering what a senior agent is doing in a small town like Ternell, right?" Shaun appeared lively and energetic, shrugging. "I simply did what I thought needed to be done, that''s all." He sighed, giving Julian a sly look under the moonlight. "You''ve had some tough days lately."


    Julian simply smiled, a hint of denial in his expression. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Don''t bother denying it¡ªI know who Jon is!"


    The moment Shaun said this, a surge of murderous intent welled up within Julian, but he restrained himself. "I don''t know what you''re talking about, and I''d also like to know who this Jon is."


    Shaun shook his head. "You''re not being honest, friend." He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, but possibly due to drinking, he fumbled, dropping a cigarette on the ground. As he bent down to retrieve it, he exposed his back and the back of his head.


    In that moment, Julian could have easily drawn his gun and silenced this man who knew too much. Time seemed to stretch, yet also pass quickly. By the time Julian hesitated, Shaun had already picked up the cigarette.


    He put the cigarette in his mouth, the brief glow illuminating his amused face before it quickly faded into darkness. In that darkness, the ember of the cigarette suddenly grew bright, its warmth almost palpable.


    "Let''s work together. My goal is to return to the capital, and yours is to solve your current problem. Fundamentally, there''s no conflict between us, right?" In the dim red glow of the cigarette, Shaun''s proposal was especially enticing.


    Under the moonlight, Shaun''s bright eyes revealed a genuine sincerity that was almost embarrassingly earnest. He was serious¡ªhe truly wanted to help Julian overcome his current predicament.


    But more than that, he wanted to personally expose the corruption of the Old Party in Ternell. Shaun dreamed of returning to the Empire''s core, of proving to everyone that he wasn''t a deserter. But all of this hinged on one thing: he needed tangible achievements, something that could impress the powerful figures of the New Party.


    His superior had "assigned" him to Ternell to keep him out of the way, a thinly veiled exile, but Shaun wasn''t resigned to this fate. He wanted to go back, to join in the investigation of the Empire''s biggest conspiracy to date.


    Previously, he had no leads and spent his days drinking heavily, taking precautions, but also frequenting bars and public places to gather intelligence on Ternell. The more he learned, the more he realized that Ternell was a place that could serve as his springboard back to the Empire''s center.


    This city was rotten to the core!


    Under the Old Party''s rule, everything revolved around money; transactions between businessmen and politicians were conducted openly. The influential figures in town cared nothing for the lives of the city''s residents; their only concern was how much money they''d amassed this month and how much was theirs versus what they had to remit.


    Yes, remit.


    As a base of Old Party control, Ternell''s primary purpose was to "fund" the upper echelons of the Old Party. A large portion of the black money would flow through various channels into the state-level Old Party campaign offices, some of it serving as campaign funds for the Old Party in Kanners as it fought for governorships and legislative seats.


    But a larger portion continued upwards, flowing into the Old Party''s "Imperial Lion Club" in the capital. This club''s major shareholders were the Old Party''s top brass, who redistributed the funds across regions to resist the New Party.


    If Ternell''s lifeline was severed, if its funding function was destroyed, a domino effect would ensue. Enraged citizens and the media would widely report Kanners''s corruption, and the New Party would seize the opportunity to attack the Old Party''s power in Kanners. Once the Old Party lost the Kanners "lifeline," all its plans would need to be revised, and some might even have to be abandoned.


    At that point, Shaun would become famous, recognized by the New Party''s leadership as a pioneer in anti-corruption efforts, earning his way back to the Empire''s core, where he could continue investigating¡­

 Chapter 141: Chapter 141 Cooperation

    The thought invigorated Shaun, and he clenched his fist in excitement. Now, all he needed was for Julian to agree.He wanted to lift the lid on the Old Party''s corruption in Ternell, but he couldn''t do it alone. He needed someone to work with him, and Julian was the ideal ally.


    First of all, Julian had money.


    It might seem shallow, but even as a high ranking agent of the Imperial Security Bureau with grand ideals, Shaun couldn''t ignore the importance of money. In this era, you could be unattractive, you could have nothing, but you had to have money. With money, there was nothing you couldn''t obtain¡ªstatus, prestige, even the sacred love that philosophers and art enthusiasts held so dear. It was all just a matter of price.


    Money was needed to buy critical informants, to acquire special equipment, and even to cover basic needs. It was essential.


    Secondly, Julian had reliable people. Unlike other gangs, the association''s purity was something Shaun valued. The Guar members of the association might all dream of wealth, but they adhered strictly to Guar values. Even when Pronto was spreading information about Jon, none of them had come forward for money.


    They were trustworthy, and that was crucial.


    With money and people, the only remaining step was to risk it all. Shaun had his reason¡ªto return to the capital and prove he was no deserter. Julian had his own reason, too¡ªif Dave were caught, it would spell the end for him, the association, and all the Guar.


    With a shared goal and a similar plight, why not join forces to unleash their rage on this decaying world?


    Julian''s expression shifted as he thought it over. After a moment, he said, "With the mayor''s resources, it won''t take a week for him to find out who Jon is. If you want to work with me, we need to survive this first week."


    Shaun had already anticipated this. He chuckled, but his expression quickly turned serious. Julian narrowed his eyes, instinctively rolling back and drawing his gun, aiming into the pitch black night where Shaun had glanced. The next second, the sound of retching broke the silence. Julian''s eye twitched as Shaun laughed and vomited, heaven knows how much he had drunk that night.


    After a while, when Shaun had finished vomiting, the two moved to a new bench. Wiping his lips, Shaun grinned. "Pronto has never trusted me. Ever since I arrived, he''s had people watching me. Acting like a drunken fool every day was the only way to keep him from suspecting me."


    The fortunate thing was that places frequented by drunks were often ideal for gathering information. Shaun easily picked up what he needed from the mouths of inebriated patrons and skilled "ladies of the night." Of course, these sources provided mostly low-level information; he obtained higher-level intelligence directly from the State Investigation Bureau.


    For years, Pronto hadn''t let up on his surveillance, and Shaun had grown increasingly wary of him.


    He was as cunning as a fox and just as cautious.


    After listening to Shaun''s account, Julian nodded in understanding. He had always known Pronto was sly, but he hadn''t realized he could be paranoid to the point of resembling a deranged fanatic.


    "How do you plan to help me get through this rough period?" Julian asked. He handed Shaun a handkerchief, which Shaun tossed to the ground, unable to put it away with the vomit on it. With a slight frown, he brought up the topic that would be the crux of their cooperation.


    Shaun chuckled nonchalantly and asked, "For someone like Peter, what do you think is the most precious thing?"


    Without much thought, Julian replied, "His life?"


    Shaun shook his head.


    "His power and status?"


    Shaun shook his head again, lifting a hand to stop Julian from guessing further. His eyes sparkled. "For politicians, their political life is their most important asset, even more than their lives or their families."


    The Dren Law was a restrictive bill proposed by Prime Minister Dren over three hundred years ago to curb the power of the nobility, allowing royal power to expand further. The Dren Law still exerted unparalleled restraint today. In simple terms, Dren argued that "any group pursuing selfish political interests is essentially illegal, infringing on the rights of the royal family and all fair minded nobles." After this law passed, all political organizations had to register and declare their political objectives.


    This was one reason for the eventual establishment of the Empire''s Imperial Parliament, the predecessor to today''s bicameral legislature.


    For politicians, they could accept their own death or tolerate the loss of power and benefits, but their political life had to remain intact. Even if they died, their political life wouldn''t end with them. It would live on in the contributions they''d made to politics, keeping their legacy "alive."


    "To divert Peter''s attention temporarily, there are two ways." Shaun said, pausing to let the anticipation build. Julian couldn''t help but laugh, feeling a bit more relaxed. Shaun''s tendency to provide two examples to support his points was something Julian could relate to.


    Shaun shot him an odd look before continuing, "First, Peter has been married to Vivian for years without any children. He has four mistresses, but still no offspring. This suggests he''s physically¡­ compromised, that he lost the ability to have children."


    "Political life can continue in two ways. One is through achieving lasting accomplishments, like Norland, influencing future politicians. The other is to have one''s political legacy carried on through descendants. Remove Jon, eliminate any witnesses¡­"


    "The second method? Follow the money trail." sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Accounts are a terrifying topic. How many tax officials have mysteriously fallen on their way to the cities where they were to take office? The empire''s tax revenue has long been a black hole. During the feudal monarchy, nobles held absolute control over their territories and could never allow the royal family to plunder resources and wealth from their lands. This was one of the greatest conflicts between the nobility and the royal family.

 Chapter 142: Chapter 142 No One Is Worthy Of Trust

    Over time, local tax officials were either bribed by governors or mayors, reporting less than ten thousand in taxes annually, or they would withdraw to the tax office, quietly serving out their term before leaving in disgrace.Although the tax issue has improved significantly, tax reform remains one of the key reforms strongly promoted by the new party. However, progress has been slow, with no breakthrough achievements so far.


    This does not mean the empire has given up on tax matters. Quite the opposite, under the current rule of the new party, taxes are highly prioritized. If any issues are found in the accounts, the new party will undoubtedly intervene.


    The reason is quite simple: the new party is poor.


    The old party''s funding came from layers of illicit contributions, but what funds the new party''s operations? The answer: donations from socially concerned citizens, a blend of officials and businessmen, and income from the "royal merchants." Most donations from "concerned citizens" come from merchants with emerging influence, who trade financial support for political protection and backing, seeking greater benefits. Some of these merchants have even transformed into political figures, naturally using the money to showcase their unique political ambitions and decision-making capabilities.


    Finally, the largest portion of revenue comes from the royal merchants. Royal merchants are the exclusive business people of the royal family, and thanks to them, the royal family maintains a certain dignity, at least allowing them to live without relying on taxes, which yield little revenue. The royal merchants themselves hold considerable influence, earning substantial profits.


    Yet, this is not enough for the new party to give up on taxes.


    Only by resolving the tax issue can the ruling party of the empire address its biggest dilemma: numerous reform plans but no funds for implementation.


    Is the new party blind to the tax loopholes in these cities? Of course not. However, seeing the issues doesn''t mean they can pinpoint them. With tax reforms stalling, expecting useful information from tax officials long since bought off is pure fantasy. When higher-ups conduct investigations, they find that all tax declarations are reasonable, with no sign of "corruption."


    Without evidence, how can they leverage this opportunity to act?


    So, this remains a dilemma, a significant one.


    Every fortress imagines the enemy outside as immensely powerful, but they often overlook that many adversaries come from within. It may be difficult for outsiders to examine Ternell City''s accounts, but for locals, is it really so hard?


    Julian revealed his entire plan: he would use his influence as a senior agent to sway the state investigation bureau in Carnless, prompting them to send a formal team to escort tax officials from the tax bureau for a local audit. This would certainly divert Peter''s attention away from Jon and focus it on dealing with this "troublesome" tax official. With this distraction, they would have ample time to do many things, such as finding a patron for Julian.


    If Julian could secure a powerful patron, he wouldn''t need to worry about being swept away by Peter, even when facing the mayor. The next step would be to gather evidence and expose the corruption in Ternell City. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It sounded reasonable. At least Julian hadn''t detected any glaring flaws. He nodded in agreement, though inwardly still cautious, unwilling to fully trust anyone outside his circle.


    After discussing the details, the two parted ways.


    On the way back, Dave asked, "Do you trust him?" referring to Shaun.


    Julian shook his head solemnly. "I don''t trust him. On the surface, we''re cooperating, but in reality, we must find a way to save ourselves and not place all our hopes in others'' hands." Saying this, he pulled out a cigarette, handed one to Dave, and after lighting up, they continued walking. "Our immediate priority is to meet with Madame Vivian. Only by meeting her can we find the exit from this labyrinth."


    Dave showed no outward reaction, knowing he wasn''t as clever as Julian. He just had to play the role of executor, leaving the reasoning to others.


    The next morning, two young police officers appeared at Peter''s mansion gates, diligently stationed from morning till night without leaving. Returning after an evening engagement, Peter even had a pack of cigarettes and twenty dollars sent to each officer as a reward. Peter understood this was likely Pronto''s way of currying favor, though he held no particular regard for Pronto; he had no prejudice against the police.


    After all, for whatever reason, these two were on guard here, weren''t they?


    For three days, the staff at the mansion grew accustomed to the two officers at the gate. Even the servants grew fond of them, as their presence reduced the servants'' workload, eliminating the need for constant patrols to prevent potential issues.


    On the fourth day, the sky was overcast, and a strong wind carried a fine mist and droplets, suggesting an imminent downpour. With a stern expression, the mayor hurriedly boarded his car and sped away. That day, investigators from the state tax bureau were due to arrive in Ternell City for a week-long audit. Sometimes Peter despised the new party, knowing these actions were pointless yet continuing regardless, as if to spite him.


    At 9:40 a.m., a torrential downpour suddenly erupted, as if someone had pierced the sky. The deluge blurred the world, and the butler, watching the shivering officers by the gate from the second-floor window, hesitated, then instructed a servant to invite them inside.


    As the butler, his interests aligned with his master. Peter wasn''t a difficult mayor to deal with; on the contrary, behind his harsh exterior, he had a charming side. He was caring and gentle. Whether this was his nature or a facade, he had crafted his public image to perfection.


    The young officers, shivering under thick blankets on the porch, had rainwater trickling down into their boots, and despite the blankets, their faces remained pale, still trembling.


    "Bring them two cups of hot tea and dry clothes. They''ve endured great hardship guarding us here, and in this weather, I doubt anyone will have the audacity to cause trouble." While saying this, the butler also instructed the mansion guards to secure all exits and prevent anyone from entering.


    The two officers, profusely thankful, dried off, changed clothes, and dozed off in the servants'' lounge, seemingly forgotten by everyone.

 Chapter 143: Chapter 143 Meeting Madame Vivian

    In this dark, stormy weather!Madame Vivian had just sipped some broth, lacking any appetite. Had she not been pregnant, she might not have even managed the broth.


    Every woman longs for the day she can become a mother, a right granted by God. Whether they wield power or status, they deserve this right.


    Gently caressing her still-flat stomach, Madame Vivian gazed out at the rain-soaked darkness, feeling as though her world mirrored the dreary scene outside, bleak and devoid of any future.


    A soft knock interrupted her thoughts, and she frowned. Though Peter hadn''t explicitly said so, everyone knew Vivian was confined within the estate. She could do whatever she wished, except leave.


    "Come in," she called out, her raspy voice carrying a trace of melancholy as she gazed out the window, feeling as though her heart had died. She was certain that if Peter found Jon, he would kill him¡ªand her child. The outside world was perilous for the unborn; even a minor accident could deliver them into God''s embrace prematurely.


    A familiar voice coughed, brightening her eyes. Her body trembled slightly. Though a strong woman with an impressive background, she was still a woman. At this moment, any woman would yearn for someone to comfort her, to bring even a shred of warmth. Yet this surprise was too much, so overwhelming she dared not turn around.


    "It''s dangerous here; leave immediately before Peter returns!" Vivian sighed, finally yielding to herself. She stood and turned, looking at the familiar figure, though momentarily stunned by the boy standing beside Jon.


    The boy stepped forward, bowing. "This may not be the best timing, but I''m honored to meet you, esteemed Madame Vivian."


    "You may call me Julian, Jon''s friend."


    "Julian?" Madam Vivian showed a hint of contemplation, hesitating for a while before saying, "I feel like I''ve heard that name somewhere before." Her expression was calm, and it was no surprise that she hadn''t heard of Julian, an unremarkable "small figure." If it hadn''t been for Jon''s presence, she would have bluntly admitted that she had no idea who he was.


    Julian merely smiled, unfazed by her reaction. Even though she was under house arrest and stripped of her freedom, Madam Vivian was still Madam Vivian. She had her pride, and even in her downfall, she wouldn''t easily reveal her vulnerable side to just anyone.


    Vivian''s expression shifted slightly, and she scrutinized Julian carefully before abruptly asking, "Was this all arranged by you?"


    If she still didn''t understand the situation by now, her whole life would have been wasted. Clearly, Jon''s presence was part of Julian''s plan. She looked at Julian and then at Dave with a mix of hatred and resentment.


    Dave hesitated to speak, then closed his mouth, choosing silence. He wanted to say something, but nothing could change the fact¡ªit was Julian who orchestrated his approach to her, an ironclad reality.


    From Vivian''s perspective, Jon might lie, and Julian might continue to deceive her, but what shocked her was that Julian openly admitted it.


    "Yes, Madam," Julian said. "I specifically arranged for Jon to approach you, with the purpose of influencing your judgment and thereby impacting the mayor''s decisions." Madam Vivian''s eyes blazed with anger as she coldly turned away, saying nothing.


    In her life, there were a few who had hurt her deeply. The first was her husband. Although he had married her for status and power, he pretended it was all divinely arranged. For a long time after their wedding, Vivian was in shock, numbing herself through promiscuity as a form of revenge. Deep down, she hoped he would feel jealous, showing he cared for her despite his hunger for power.


    But she failed. He ignored her actions, remaining solely focused on his position, resources, and ambition to become governor. Peter had always been careful not to stake everything on a single election; he was aiming for the next one, preparing for every opportunity. For someone so obsessed with power, a wife was merely an accessory to fulfill societal duties. However, Vivian''s pregnancy represented a loss of control over his family¡ªa problem for any politician, as family stability was essential for public image and future advancement. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Therefore, while he kept the matter secret from everyone but the butler and Vivian herself, he also instigated a city-wide search for Jon.


    Vivian''s relationship with Jon had started as a way to indulge in the thrill of freedom, but over time, she developed a shameful fondness for him, and her feelings deepened. She saw Jon as both a lover and a child, a desire that arose from her longing to become a mother.


    For real libertines, the term "mother" might be a joke, but for a woman yearning for motherhood, the word held a sacred meaning. Thus, she had taken the risk.


    What hurt her now was discovering that Jon and Peter were the same¡ªboth had approached her with ulterior motives.


    "You may not know, Madam!" Julian didn''t back down in the face of her coldness. Instead, he spoke calmly with a knowing smile, "You may now learn Jon''s real name¡ªDave. He confessed his regret to me, admitting that he had developed feelings for a woman he should never have been involved with, which has left him feeling troubled and remorseful."


    Vivian sneered, her laughter filled with disdain. "Solve it? How? Do you really think that a bunch of nobodies can win a battle against the mayor? This outcome was inevitable from the start."


    Julian shook his head. "Then, do you truly want your child to be denied even a single breath of free air?"


    Instinctively, Vivian''s hand went to her belly, her face darkening.


    When Mayor Peter returned late that night, he looked utterly exhausted. The state tax bureau''s investigator had been relentless, demanding all financial statements from the past year to be brought out for examination, scrutinizing each paper one by one. Peter had tried every trick to disrupt the investigation while destroying evidence and silencing witnesses.


    Loosening his tie, he handed his briefcase to the butler and asked offhandedly, "Did the Madam keep quiet today, as usual?"

 Chapter 144: Chapter 144 You Should Be A Strong Woman

    Peter walked into the study, removed his coat, and reclined on the sofa. With his eyes closed, recent events churned continuously in his mind, leaving him somewhat exhausted.Following Wood''s death, the funds he provided monthly were temporarily missing, but more concerning was the sense of unease the mayor felt with Gador''s death. At some point, things had gradually begun to spiral out of control¡ªa worrying sign for someone like him, who made the rules. Even more troubling was that, amidst his uncertainty, the state tax bureau had dispatched an investigator to audit Ternell City''s taxes. It was hard to say if this was somehow connected.


    Adding to his distress was Vivian''s sudden pregnancy¡ªa tangled mess that left him feeling overwhelmed. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Madam hasn''t attempted to leave the estate these past few days, has she?" asked the mayor, savoring a rare moment of tranquility after his busy and intense work schedule. Under such pressure, most people would have crumbled, but Peter relished it; he was a man who chased power, right from the start and even now.


    The butler, while hanging up the mayor''s coat, responded, "As of now, Madam hasn''t left her room and has only eaten sparingly."


    "Has anyone visited her?" Vivian had numerous close friends¡ªsocialites of the city, whose husbands were either imperial officials or ambitious moguls in Ternell City. Men''s social interactions were often intertwined with women''s charms, so it wasn''t surprising that not all of them returned home full of energy. This also made the city''s elite women''s circle somewhat chaotic.


    Vivian was the most prominent figure in this circle, and her absence over several days was bound to raise questions, prompting someone to contact her and organize some gathering. These women were not to be underestimated¡ªthis was wisdom Peter had accumulated over the years. They might lack capabilities in serious matters, but when it came to creating trouble, they were experts. Vivian''s gatherings and social circle were allowed and even encouraged by Peter, as, when needed, these women could yield substantial benefits for him. At worst, they wouldn''t spoil his plans without reason.


    "Sir, yesterday Madam Graf visited, but Madam excused herself, citing discomfort. Since then, no one else has come or attempted to visit," the butler dutifully answered. Being a butler was no easy task, and being a butler to someone of power was even harder.


    Peter nodded. "And the officers at the entrance? Had they left by the time I returned?"


    "Yes, sir. There was a heavy downpour today, and they got drenched, so I invited them inside for a short rest. It seems they caught colds. To prevent spreading illness within the estate, I allowed them to leave after a brief respite."


    "Well done!"


    A cold is a peculiar ailment. It isn''t particularly fierce; it won''t render a person unable to stand or impair any bodily function, but it can still claim lives. The church had said that colds were a punishment from God¡ªa trial for the soul. Each year, many people succumb to colds, returning to God''s embrace. Strangely, even though the poor could seldom afford medicine, most managed to recover. In contrast, the wealthy, who used various precious medicines, would often, in a moment of carelessness, close their eyes forever.


    Some say it''s because the wealthy have dark hearts, which is why God judges them. This rumor lacks any basis or truth, and the authorities have denounced it, yet the powerful still believe it.


    As a result, they strictly avoided exposure to colds.


    Peter soon fell asleep, exhausted by his day-to-day responsibilities, but it was exhaustion he enjoyed.


    Meanwhile, two junior officers had removed their uniforms. This recent meeting with Madam Vivian had offered Julian a tremendous opportunity but also presented an even greater crisis. Julian firmly believed that when someone faces repeated setbacks, they develop resilience and a desire to overcome. Perhaps some people would accept their fate and bow their heads, but he believed Vivian was not one of them.


    She was born into the family of a governor, arriving in this world with a silver spoon, surrounded exclusively by nobles, politicians, and business tycoons. To her, the world might have always seemed this way¡ªuntil she fell, tasting the bitter and astringent dirt. Only then did she see the world clearly.


    Power, wealth, and prestige form this respectable world. To live respectably, to have everything go smoothly, relying on others is insufficient. Others may look up to you because of your husband or father, but ultimately, it''s only a fleeting glance. In the eyes of these politicians, family is but a decoration for social responsibility; it cannot alter their purpose or ambition.


    The only way to bring change is to immerse oneself, becoming one of them.


    When Mayor Peter, the current governor, and all political figures must look up to her, her will would become theirs.


    "If you wish to protect the child you''re carrying, if you want even a semblance of love that, though false, appears genuine, Madam Vivian, then it''s time for you to decide."


    "You should not be a woman reliant on others for necessities; you should be a strong woman. Your tea gatherings, your social circles, would allow you to achieve in a short time what most people couldn''t in a lifetime."


    "I am not urging you to defy your husband or your father; I merely hope to see an exceptional woman rise independently, representing countless women in weaker positions and voicing their own."


    While Peter slumbered in the study, Madam Vivian stood by the window, gazing at the enchanting post-rain moonlight, pondering Julian''s words. She had to admit, Julian was quite persuasive, successfully stirring her rebellious spirit and desire to change her destiny.


    As the night deepened, a question lingered in her mind.


    If she were the mayor, or even the governor, would her life be as it is now?


    No!


    It wouldn''t. As Julian said, even if it were false, Peter would grant her the life she desired!


    Clenching her fist, she gently touched her abdomen, making what could be the most critical decision of her life.

 Chapter 145: Chapter 145 The Charity Event

    "Do you think Vivian will go along with your plan?" Sitting in the office of the Eastern Star Trading Company, Dave was somewhat worried about whether Julian''s plan would succeed. Although Julian always seemed to possess a magnetic charm, as if he were luck itself personified, this situation was entirely different from anything before. This opponent was in a different league compared to Wood or Gador.Peter possessed both power and wealth, controlling the entire city. If the prison warden was the king of the prison, then Peter was the king of this city. Did a bunch of mud-legged underdogs think they could overthrow a king? Was this sheer imagination or pure arrogance?


    Julian toyed with his lighter, occasionally sparking it, a faint smile on his face, showing no sign of anxiety in response to Dave''s concerns. The truth was, Mrs. Vivian was the only key to defeating Mayor Peter. As Julian had always believed, the quickest and most effective way to bring down a fortress was from within. Peter''s strength lay not in his own terrifying capabilities, but in the layers of prestige surrounding him. Once those layers were stripped away, what would remain?


    He would be less than an ordinary man, for ordinary people knew how to sustain themselves through labor, while Peter could do nothing.


    As for whether he could persuade Vivian to become the one who would dismantle the fortress named "Peter," Julian had no worries. Mrs. Vivian had had enough. She desired change, and her pregnancy was the loudest protest and declaration of defiance against her past life. Julian had now added fuel to her fire. If she did not want to sink further, if she desired any change, then now was the perfect time¡ªwhile she still carried the child, she could accomplish many things that would otherwise be beyond her reach. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And this was not Julian''s only, nor final, strategy. Besides this direct plan involving Vivian, Julian had set up another relatively moderate, yet equally disruptive plan.


    The union!


    Indeed, in the eyes of many, Julian was now part of the "exploiting class," the epitome of a successful businessman, the embodiment of the imperial dream. But no one could change one fact¡ªup to this point, he was still a registered member of the workers'' union. In other words, with just a bit of sacrifice, he could secure the union''s support!


    In the eyes of the capitalists, one or two workers, three or five workers, might be mere targets of exploitation. But thirty or fifty workers, three or five hundred workers gathering together¡ªthat was a nightmare for every capitalist and politician. Beyond that, Julian also intended to release another long-suppressed nightmare¡ªthe church.


    This was why he was unbothered by the potential negative consequences this incident might bring him. At worst, he could pack up and leave. But if he managed to withstand the mayor''s offensive and stage a beautiful counterattack, he''d have the opportunity to step into the very echelon everyone envied within Ternell City.


    Julian glanced at Dave. "Did you just call her Vivian? By the former king, have you actually fallen in love with that woman?" The choice of address was very telling, reflecting one''s true feelings. When referring to someone despised, derogatory terms like "fool" or "scoundrel" would flow out without thought. Similarly, when speaking of someone beloved, be it family or a loved one, kind and affectionate terms were the instinctual choice.


    For Dave to openly call her "Vivian" indicated that, deep down, he had accepted Vivian as a part of his life.


    A slight blush appeared on Dave''s face, handsome enough to make others envious. This instantly reminded Julian of a famous woman from another world who had once said that the shortest way to a woman''s heart was through a certain path. That saying could apply to men too. To hold a man''s heart, you first had to keep him captivated.


    Indeed, passion was the catalyst of relationships. Conflicts between spouses or lovers could often be solved in a single encounter; if one wasn''t enough, then two.


    Dave gave up under Julian''s gaze, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I admit, I''m a bit infatuated with Vivian. Have you ever met a woman willing to open her heart to you?"


    Julian whistled, looking at Dave as if he''d discovered a new world. "I never knew you had the potential to be a philosopher. You should go to school, I''m serious!"


    Dave shrugged. "But schools don''t admit assassins!"


    Julian glanced at the time, stood up, and put on a fresh set of clothes. "Luckily, it''s time. Otherwise, I''d die here from your tragic love story. Stay here, wait for my return!"


    That evening, there was a charity gala in the city, attended by the wealthy and even members of the church. These rich people would hypocritically donate wealth and supplies to the poor, only to exploit them back, gaining a good reputation without any loss. No wonder everyone was so eager to do charity.


    The charity event was held at the Ternell Grand Theater, hosted by nearly all of the city''s elite and various social groups, making it a critical social event. Every month, a similar charity gala would be held for reasons ranging from celebrating the emperor''s birthday to honoring the victory in the War of National Defense, even with events for the Lord''s Christmas Day.


    It was a complex and carefully orchestrated social arena. To step into high society, one had to build a reputation here first.


    Julian drove to the Ternell Grand Theater, looking up at the flashing neon lights, feeling a surge of emotion. Just over three months ago, he was here dreaming of expanding the car-washing business globally. Now, three months later, he had become a successful bootlegger and smuggler¡ªwhat a world!


    He casually pulled two fifty-cent coins from his pocket and tossed them onto the ground, instantly drawing the attention of three or five men with buckets who rushed over, fighting for the coins. The losers were crestfallen, while the winners beamed. Washing a car for a dollar was rare here. However, one of the men looked at Julian''s back thoughtfully, feeling that he had seen this man somewhere before.

 Chapter 146: Chapter 146 Flayna The Star Of Ternell City

    People''s memories of each other often last only a fleeting moment, especially when it''s one common person remembering another. But the memory of an ordinary person toward someone of prominence can linger much longer. For the lives of the powerful are intertwined with those of the common people, and even a casual action by someone influential can change an ordinary person''s life forever.For the car washers outside the Ternell Grand Theater, the impression of powerful figures was particularly vivid. Their simple clothes and the food digesting in their bellies all came from these prominent individuals. Sometimes, just by respectfully calling out a dignitary''s title, they might earn an extra coin or even a one-dollar bill.


    However, the confused car washer still hadn''t figured out who that familiar figure was. He felt he knew this person well, and they''d even crossed paths before.


    But the problem was, he was just an ordinary man. How could someone like him build a "connection" with a person of influence?


    Julian signed his name in the guestbook, nodded slightly, and then walked into the theater. The Ternell Grand Theater had hosted countless events, and there was a mature setup in place for arranging the venue and welcoming guests.


    Guided by an attendant, Julian was led to a seat in the ninth row, closer to the edge. He didn''t have any complaints, knowing that his sudden rise lacked deep roots and connections. Being placed in the ninth row, rather than the twelfth, was already a sign of respect.


    At events like these, seating arrangements best reflected one''s status and rank. For example, seated in the middle of the first row was none other than the "king" of Ternell City, Mayor Peter, flanked by two councilmen, followed by other officials. The tycoons were relegated to the third row, while the second row was reserved for social elites.


    These elites often held no specific titles and were not necessarily as wealthy as the tycoons, but they had deep-rooted influence and heritage. Their ancestors might have been nobility, or they might have relatives in important positions elsewhere. In some cases, they wielded substantial influence in high society.


    In short, these elites might lack direct power or vast wealth, but they possessed influence.


    Influence is a mysterious "magic." Under its sway, public attitudes and perceptions can be altered. These individuals could affect the values of ordinary citizens and even sway the decisions and judgments of policymakers. Some referred to these social elites as the "shadow governors," describing their role in society.


    One by one, distinguished guests continued to arrive, and the theater grew lively. Attendants carried trays with drinks and fruits, weaving through the guests. Almost everyone stood in small groups of three or five, either warmly chatting or whispering to each other. Amidst these hidden conversations, decisions were made, and certain ideas dismissed.


    Perhaps this was what people admired as "high society"!


    "Are you here alone?" Julian turned around to see a young woman dressed in vibrant attire. Small, sparkling accessories adorned her hair, and her stylish hairstyle, refined makeup, and well-designed outfit made her look fresh and radiant. Julian felt he''d seen this girl before. After a brief moment of thought, he smiled and said, "I''m terribly sorry, but despite my best efforts, I still can''t recall your name!" S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The girl laughed without a hint of offense and extended a hand clad in white lace gloves, lightly shaking his. "My name is Flayna. I can tell you''re a busy person who doesn''t have much time to notice posters around town."


    At the mention of posters and after she introduced herself, Julian''s face showed sudden realization. He remembered who she was. She was an opera actress, performing stage plays and minor roles in operas at the Ternell Grand Theater. Her youthful charm had garnered a small following, though both the world of theater and opera were realms that valued tradition and hierarchy.


    Flayna held an awkward position in the theater, always a supporting character and never the lead. Some thought it unfortunate, while others believed it fitting. The Lord had granted her remarkable beauty, but not more, for it would be unfair to others. Rumor had it that the theater director had wanted Flayna to become his lover, but she had refused, and thus the lead roles in plays and operas had been closed to her ever since.


    Some went as far as to say the director was "waiting" for her, expecting that she would eventually give in and willingly climb into his bed.


    Speaking of the theater director, one couldn''t ignore this sixty-something man''s influence in Ternell and even across the state. Although he was only the director of a theater, he had made outstanding contributions to the arts. In his youth, three of his operas and plays won the highest arts awards. Many of his students went on to become notable artists, with one even teaching at the Imperial Royal Academy of Arts.


    In this sense, the director was also a social elite, as he held considerable influence.


    It was a sad and twisted society, with many "social elites" regarding the director''s behavior as a refined interest, never considering the oppressed individuals'' thoughts and attitudes. They promoted and even bet on it among themselves, perhaps viewing it as "high culture."


    Julian patted his forehead and extended his hand again. "I remember now, Miss Flayna, the star of Ternell City."


    "Star?" Flayna extended her hand and shook his again, visibly pleased. "Do you really think so? Most people only see me as a supporting character; rarely does anyone call me a star."


    Julian responded earnestly, "When a person gains a certain level of recognition and frequently appears in public, they meet the basic criteria of a star. So, in that sense, you are indeed a star."


    Flayna laughed brightly. "It''s a pleasure talking to you. May I have your contact information? I still don''t know your name!"


    After seeing Flayna off, Julian had just sat down, barely warming his seat, when Ernst appeared beside him out of nowhere. "That woman isn''t as simple as she seems. Try not to get too involved with her."


    Although most people assumed that Julian and Ernst should be at each other''s throats, competing ruthlessly to dominate Ternell City''s bootleg market, it wasn''t surprising for Ernst to sit down beside Julian and offer him a cigarette. This was the way of high society. This was the elegance expected of the elite during social gatherings. Put simply, you might want nothing more than to stab the person in front of you, but in this setting, at this moment, you had to treat them like a dear friend.

 Chapter 147: Chapter 147 The Charity Auction

    Only in this way could one embody the twisted values upheld by mainstream society.Yes, twisted was the right word.


    Julian took out his lighter, lit Ernst''s cigarette, then his own. Together with Carrell, the two had engaged in fierce competition within Ternell City, though they had managed to restrain themselves from using outright violence. Still, the price war had become vicious, with the wholesale price of bootleg liquor dropping by one to two dollars, thinning their profits. In the eyes of the public, they seemed on the verge of bloody conflict. What people didn''t know was that, on the outside, the three had already seized substantial profits in the external bootleg markets, surpassing the local market returns.


    At the same time, their apparent infighting also connected to the growing influx of outside bootleg liquor into Ternell. This wasn''t just about recreating the thrill of "first love"; their actions may have awakened those previously content with the local market, prompting bootleggers across various territories to start expanding outward.


    A large quantity of out-of-town bootleg liquor began pouring into Ternell, and in order to protect their market, a price war became essential. The three took turns slashing prices, catching the outside competition off guard. They had come to seize market share, only to find Ternell''s market already cutthroat. Apart from a few premium brands targeting high-end consumers, the middle- and low-end competitors had all retreated.


    Unable to bear the costs, especially with high transport expenses, outside sellers simply couldn''t compete with local bootleggers amidst the ongoing price war.


    In other cities, however, bootleggers were less organized, not yet forming a tightly knit alliance like a trade union, leaving them defenseless against similarly priced but slightly better quality imports. This allowed Ternell''s bootlegging trio to rake in substantial profits, so much so that even Carrell, the smallest shareholder, was often seen smiling and cracking jokes with those around him.


    So the harmony between Julian and Ernst wasn''t entirely an act¡ªit was genuine!


    Julian glanced toward the direction in which the girl had left, exhaling a puff of smoke. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "What''s the story? Got any other interesting details?"


    Ernst nodded, crossing his legs as he recounted in detail.


    Flayna wasn''t an ordinary girl. She knew the theater director coveted her youth and beauty, yet she still managed to stir up two tycoons to compete for her against the director. Sadly, she hadn''t achieved the freedom she wanted. Both tycoons had since become part of Ternell''s history, ruined by bankruptcy and eventual suicide due to various "accidents." And yet, Flayna continued to do the same, hoping for a "hero" who could vanquish the "villain" and rescue her.


    However, she never considered what would happen if the "hero" couldn''t defeat the "villain"¡­ Right, she''d simply seek out the next hero.


    After listening to Ernst''s explanation, Julian smacked his lips and chuckled. Clearly, no one who could survive in this environment was simple.


    Seeing that Julian understood, Ernst patted his shoulder and stood up to leave. His seat was in the fourth row, not here.


    After about half an hour of social mingling, people finally returned to their seats, and the charity gala commenced. The host was the Ternell Director of Education, responsible for the city''s imperial citizen education. Rumor had it that the new party planned an administrative restructuring and rebranding in the upcoming midterm elections. But for now, this elderly man with gold-rimmed glasses, snow-white hair, and a solemn face still carried the air of a seasoned politician, presiding over the city''s education department.


    He cleared his throat, and the hall instantly quieted. The elderly man began with some old, yet socially accepted words of blessing, hypocritically encouraging more attention to education. Then he droned on about how, with the interest and support of many tycoons and elites, Ternell''s education had improved significantly in recent years. He also reminded the guests that 30% of the funds raised tonight would go directly into the Education Department''s account to fund more "affordable" education, broadening citizens'' access to knowledge.


    While Julian sat bored in the theater, participating in what was ultimately a dull charity auction, outside the theater, a car washer holding a bucket and looking dazed suddenly jolted awake. He remembered who that familiar figure belonged to! Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was that hardworking young man, so meticulous about his work that it annoyed the others. Rather than just brushing off the dust for a decent reward, he went out of his way to thoroughly clean each car, forcing the others to put in more effort to earn the same pay. Because of this, the washer had reported him to Mad Dog, sparking a conflict between himself and the young man.


    Perhaps he was just working here; maybe the car wasn''t even his, just one he had parked for someone else.


    The skinny man justified his findings to himself, as there was no logical way someone scraping by a few months ago could afford a car now. That car was worth at least 2,800 dollars, far beyond the reach of their class.


    2,800 dollars?


    Impossible!


    A slight change in his expression betrayed his thoughts. Truthfully, he had no deep hatred for that young man, beyond a few days of poor business. But Mad Dog had promised a five-dollar reward for anyone who provided information about him.


    Five dollars was significant; a car wash brought in about ten cents, and on a good day, he might wash three to five cars. That''s why they were so "casual" about their job. Car wash peak hours were usually in the evenings, and not every customer was particular about a spotless vehicle. Sometimes, an entire day would pass without work. Thus, washing cars quickly to get to the next was a necessary skill for every washer.


    Those five dollars equaled half a month''s earnings on a lucky streak.


    His Adam''s apple bobbed involuntarily. He knew exactly what awaited that young man if Mad Dog caught him. Truthfully, they had no real grudge, just brief irritation that didn''t even qualify as hatred.


    But¡­ it was still five dollars.


    He placed his bucket and tools under a lamppost, knowing his fellow washers would keep an eye on them for him. His desire for those five dollars compelled him to make a choice against his better judgment.


    He would go to Mad Dog and collect those five dollars.


    Someone might get hurt, or even die, because of this, but that was not his concern, was it?


    Inside the theater, Julian remained unaware of the attention his brief appearance had stirred. After sitting bored for half an hour, the charity auction''s second half finally began.


    The first half featured items donated by various tycoons, things that might be of some value but weren''t worth much in competition. According to the unwritten rules of charity auctions, the donors usually bid on their own items at a reasonable price. Unless someone really liked something, everyone would typically let the item''s owner take it back. This was the way of the game here.


    But the second half of the auction was different. These donations came mostly from Ternell''s elites and power players. Even the smallest trinket from them could fetch a high price. Were the tycoons and wealthy men foolish? Hardly. This was how they fostered relationships with elites and officials.


    The first item of the second half was a potted plant offered by one of Ternell''s councilmen. It appeared nondescript, lacking any apparent charm, yet its first bid already exceeded the final price of every item before it.


    "Three hundred dollars!" the theater''s young staff member shouted enthusiastically, waving his gavel. "This esteemed gentleman offers three hundred dollars for this pot filled with the spirit of the wild and nature. Any higher offers?" The staff member showcased the pot, filled with weeds found by any roadside. With Julian''s limited knowledge of art, he certainly saw nothing artistic about it.


    "Five hundred dollars!"


    "Five hundred fifty dollars!"


    ¡­


    As bidding reached a thousand dollars, the auction was about to close. Just as the auctioneer prepared to bring down the gavel, Julian raised his hand¡­

 Chapter 148: Chapter 148 Bidding A Full 10,000 Dollars

    "Oh, this young gentleman has bid two thousand dollars. Any higher offers?" The auction staff''s face had taken on an unhealthy flush. Some might wonder why he was so excited¡ªafter all, what did a high-selling auction item have to do with him?Actually, this perception was incorrect. For this charity gala, the Ternell Grand Theater had been closed for five days: four days were spent setting up the venue and arranging seating, and the final day was dedicated to the auction and gala. Every task required substantial time and effort from the staff, and the five-day closure meant losing at least two shows. The Grand Theater wasn''t a charity itself; they were here to earn a commission.


    Of course, publicly, they''d claim hosting such events was free as part of their support for charity.


    But not a single cent of the fees would be spared. The amount they received depended on the total sales, with 1% going to the theater. Like the countless rules of the game structuring the city''s workings, this was one more rule in play.


    Thus, the higher the auction proceeds, the more the theater earned, and the auction staff could expect a small bonus as well.


    So, indeed, it mattered to him.


    Many gazes followed the staff''s line of sight to the ninth-row edge, where Julian was seated. He smiled and nodded continuously, and soon he noticed an old man seated in the center of the first row, slowly turning to look at him.


    The elderly man, his hair graying and his body slightly hunched, squinted, perhaps due to poor eyesight. His perfectly tailored suit and the respect afforded to him, along with his central seat, indicated he was likely the donor of this wild potted plant¡ªone of Ternell''s two council members.


    Julian stood up, held down the hem of his coat, and bowed. The elder''s face displayed a kindly smile as he nodded to Julian.


    Perhaps, in the old man''s mind, Julian was nothing but a fool, willing to pay an astonishing price of two thousand dollars for a clump of roadside weeds he''d dug up that very morning. If that wasn''t foolish, what was? But, at least in that moment, he was truly delighted. Tomorrow''s paper would prominently cover tonight''s charity gala, mentioning his name and his "donation"¡ªthe two thousand dollars. Who covered the cost wouldn''t be mentioned, unless the journalists, editors, and even the newspaper''s owner wanted to find themselves exiled from Ternell.


    His reputation for philanthropy would reach more ears, further solidifying his role as Ternell''s "great benefactor."


    Two thousand dollars for a pot of weeds¡ªa ridiculous price. Socialites and officials might see Julian as vulgar, shallow, or even foolish. But the tycoons would envy him, for that pot of weeds earned Julian the chance to meet with the councilman.


    This, too, was part of the game.


    Subsequent items donated by other prominent figures were also sold at high prices, with even Pronto contributing a box of "Paradise" that fetched twice its market price. Soon, the second councilman''s donation appeared on the auction block, but it met with a very different reception from Julian''s successful bid. His item was greeted with indifference.


    The reason was simple. Under imperial law, each city must have at least two council members, one from the Old Party and one from the New Party. Larger cities could have three, four, or even five council members, with each member joining the state council. Together, they voted on the state''s development plans and policies, with four of them ultimately advancing to the Imperial Parliament, split evenly between the Old and New Party.


    Ternell was well known as Old Party territory, with all significant institutions tightly held by its members. To have even one New Party councilman in such a city was to ensure he lived in "constant agony." Anyone who dared bid on his item would be aligning themselves with the New Party in Old Party territory¡ªa dangerous move indeed.


    Thus, even though the New Party councilman''s item was a fine cloisonn¨¦ pocket watch, no one raised a hand to bid. The theater fell into an eerie silence.


    The councilman awkwardly lifted his own hand, showing a single finger.


    The staff member on stage broke into a smile. "This gentleman bids one thousand dollars for this luxurious cloisonn¨¦ pocket watch, crafted by the renowned Orldo clockmaker¡ªa prime collectible. Any higher bids?"


    In three lightning-quick calls for bids, the councilman paid his own money to buy back his own donated watch. His face showed only slight discomfort rather than anger; in the past two years, he had experienced this more than once.


    Naturally, no one would discuss this peculiar process. The New Party councilman might be shunned in Ternell, but the mayor and other key city officials wouldn''t trouble him¡ªin fact, they''d strive to make his work and living environment as comfortable as possible, maximizing his quality of life. According to imperial law, a city''s proposal to the state council required the signatures of two council members from different parties to be considered valid.


    In other words, if he refused to sign, a city could go four or even eight years without any meaningful development. So people might avoid him, but they had no choice but to keep him happy.


    The brief silence soon passed, and the theater returned to its lively buzz, reaching the auction''s climax¡ªthe item donated by Mayor Peter.


    It was a painting. If Delier were present, he might have wept at his lack of artistic knowledge, wondering why a worthless oil painting could fetch such a high price.


    Yes, this was the same painting Delier had "sold" to Mrs. Vivian¡ªa worthless piece. But in this setting, at this moment, it was valued higher than works by established artists.


    This oil painting, meant to evoke spring but covered in green and yellow blotches, began bidding at two thousand dollars. The previously silent tycoons and wealthy guests seemed to come alive, money becoming merely a number. Within minutes, the price had surged to 4,600 dollars.


    Peter''s face remained calm and collected as always.


    Watching the dwindling number of bidders, Julian raised his fist, and a collective gasp spread through the room.


    "10.000 dollars!"


    This jaw-dropping bid drew every eye back to the young man seated at the edge of the ninth row. Had he gone mad?


    Such charity galas were frequent, sometimes held monthly, sometimes every two to three months. With so many events, bids rarely went over 5,000, as missing one didn''t mean waiting years for the next¡ªanother would be in just twenty-odd days. So everyone bid with restraint, typically stopping around 5,000 dollars.


    Tycoons and wealthy individuals understood that once a price was raised too high, lowering it again would be difficult.


    Peter''s donations usually went for 3,000 to 6,000 dollars at most.


    But bidding a full 10,000 dollars? This was unprecedented in Ternell! Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At this moment, Peter, who had remained silent and unexpressive, stood up and walked directly to the podium. "May I ask your name, young man?" His voice was low yet magnetic, filled with charm.


    Julian also rose, bowed, and loudly replied, "My name is Julian, sir."


    Many present showed expressions of sudden understanding, and even Peter raised an eyebrow slightly¡ªhe''d heard the name before. Though some still thought Julian was crazy, they lost interest in criticizing his extravagance. Everyone knew that bootlegging was highly profitable, and many had heard of the rising new figure in Ternell''s bootleg scene. People exchanged knowing glances.


    Peter nodded firmly, pointing toward Julian. "I''ve heard of you!" The crowd''s gaze shifted between Julian and the mayor. "I won''t judge if what you''re doing is right or wrong, nor consider others'' opinions of you. But here and now, in this setting, I commend your actions. Even if your motives are impure, don''t ignore the impact of your donation on impoverished families in desperate need!"


    "Dozens, hundreds of families will see improvement thanks to your actions here. You''ll give them clothes to wear and food to fill their bellies. This is the purpose of tonight''s charity gala!" His voice grew louder, "To help those who need it!"


    "Mr. Julian, on behalf of the impoverished families in Ternell who need assistance, I thank you for your generosity!"


    Hearing these words, Julian felt momentarily elevated, as though he had become noble and great. But he knew this was all a performance, the political maneuvering of a small-town mayor. Though it was Julian pouring out his fortune to please the mayor, Peter''s words had turned both of them into symbols of virtue.


    Julian smiled and replied loudly, "I realize now what a foolish act I committed. I''m willing to donate another 10,000 dollars to Ternell''s charities. Thank you, Mayor, for showing me my error. I''m grateful for your guidance¡ªthank you!"


    Sitting in the second row, Heidler''s mouth twitched. He wondered if he''d misjudged Julian.


    Meanwhile, on the stage, the mayor finally allowed himself a slight smile.


    This young man¡­ not bad at all!

 Chapter 149: Chapter 149 Hypocrisy of Both Parties

    "Have you joined any political party?" After the auction, people moved to the theater''s backyard, where a long table was set with cold appetizers. Over a dozen chefs in tall white hats stood by stoves, preparing dishes for the guests. Julian was sipping a glass of fruit wine when he heard someone ask the question behind him. He turned around, smiling politely, and shrugged."Sorry, I haven''t joined any party, though I''d like to," he said, chuckling at himself. Raising his glass slightly, he clinked it with the person in front of him and took a sip. The wine''s sweet taste couldn''t mask the acidic hint from the fermented fruit. Even this expensive fruit wine couldn''t avoid the problem¡ªcompared to his Snow Elven brew, this wine was a disappointment. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Lowering his arm, Julian continued, "As everyone knows, I''m just a farmer. I don''t represent any group or class. Given my situation, I''m afraid I don''t quite meet the standard yet." This wasn''t Julian just being modest; whether it was the Old Party, which was often slandered, or the reformist New Party, power had never truly shifted from the "nobles."


    People saw the New Party overthrowing the corrupt, feudal monarchy, but overlooked the backgrounds of its earliest members. They were military generals, influential social figures, wealthy elites, and prominent capitalists¡ªthere were even some "enlightened" nobles among them. So, power never truly passed from the nobles to the people. Simply put, control shifted from the old nobility to the new.


    In essence, the country was still ruled by nobles, and someone of Julian''s farming background was unqualified to join any party; even the New Party wouldn''t take him.


    The visitor chuckled to himself, enjoying Julian''s words. It wasn''t because Julian was funny, but because he recognized Julian''s clear understanding of his own position.


    A farmer was just a farmer. Without permission, no amount of wealth would make him a noble.


    The visitor tapped the grass underfoot and said, "You''re too modest. Modesty is a virtue, but it can also be a kind of hypocrisy." He paused, and when Julian didn''t speak, he looked at him more formally. "If I were to invite you now to join the Holy Empire''s Glorious Party, would you accept?"


    The Glorious Party was what the Old Party called itself. Most of its core and upper members were nobles of varying ranks from the past empire. They believed that the empire''s glory remained with them alone¡ªthey were the future of the country, destined to rule it. Many commoners, however, saw them as the empire''s poison. The Old Party was commonly referred to as "rotting corpses" or the "mud of decay." While most people thought this way, they still formally called it the "Old Party" in public.


    The invitation to Julian to join the Old Party wasn''t a hasty decision. Julian''s bootlegging business was flourishing, and his willingness to spend heavily tonight to gain the favor of powerful people clearly showed he wasn''t short of money. This filled the gap left by Wood''s death and could even surpass Wood''s contributions in "offerings," a tempting prospect for the city''s elite.


    Indeed, the Old Party was somewhat like a decaying stone, obstructing the empire''s reforms. Yet, within Old Party territories, people weren''t exactly living in misery. The nobles were adept at pleasing the citizens under their rule¡ªa tradition and knowledge passed down through generations. In the past feudal era, if a noble didn''t treat his people well, they would quietly move away. To keep their lands prosperous and full of life, nobles ensured that their subjects felt "cared for."


    On a deeper level, it wasn''t local officials who affected people''s lives, but the rising capital powers. By forming monopolies, they controlled the market, completing the initial capital accumulation. Then, through "jobs and salaries," they controlled a city''s economy. They exploited the commoners mercilessly, sparking numerous social issues. A famous social critic once asked, "Why do hardworking people end up poorer the more they work?"


    This question briefly stirred social debate, but people soon returned to their heavy workloads, too burdened to consider how to answer it.


    The critic soon vanished from the public eye. Some said he went mad after raising a question he couldn''t answer; others said he''d been silenced.


    So, were capitalists friends of those in power?


    Clearly not. Those in power wanted money to circulate quickly, generating tax revenue to fund their policies. But capitalists hoarded wealth through price hikes and exploitation, stopping the flow of currency. Without circulation, tax revenue stagnated. Yet the world couldn''t function without capitalists.


    While the New Party created rules to restrain capitalists, the Old Party took a simpler approach. Since capitalists thrived by exploiting others, the Old Party decided to become the "capitalists of capitalists," implementing a hierarchical tax system to drain the capitalists'' wealth as "tribute," channeling it back into city development.


    Sometimes, simple, blunt methods were more effective than complicated rules, but they also had more severe side effects. Capitalists had to recover funds by exploiting the people even harder. This created a vicious cycle. The harder laborers worked, the poorer they became. The poorer they were, the richer the capitalists grew. The richer the capitalists grew, the more harshly the Old Party taxed them, driving them to extract even more from the people.


    To Ternell''s leaders, who enforced this blunt hierarchy of exploitation, Julian was now eligible to be "taxed," making it inevitable to invite him into this endless cycle.


    Julian didn''t think long before accepting the visitor''s request. He didn''t even know who the visitor was or whom he represented, but that didn''t stop him from accepting the Old Party''s "kindness."


    The visitor was pleased with Julian''s reaction. He raised his glass to Julian, downed his drink in one gulp, and said, "It''s been a pleasure talking with you. Tomorrow, you can go to the City Hall''s Political Group Management Office to process your membership."


    They wanted to influence and reshape the world, making certain ideas and views the standard.


    Julian nodded firmly. "Understood, I''ll be there tomorrow."


    The visitor patted Julian on the shoulder, nodded, and turned to leave. After four or five steps, he paused slightly. "Oh, and you may call me Boro."


    Mr. Boro, somewhat mysterious, had barely left when another man appeared before Julian¡ªa middle-aged man in a suit, looking every bit the professional. His thick brows and defined, square face exuded a natural trustworthiness and charisma.


    "Hello, Mr. Julian, I''m Oliver, president of Ternell City''s Workers'' Union. It''s a pleasure to meet you here." He extended his hand, and Julian, briefly surprised, reached out in return. Oliver''s hand was thick, solid, and warm. Julian felt a strange sense of security from the firm handshake.


    "Hello, Mr. Oliver. Actually, even if I hadn''t met you here, I was planning to visit you soon." Oliver withdrew his hand, listening intently, as Julian continued, "The reason isn''t complicated. To this day, I''m still a member of the Workers'' Union."


    "So, if there are any events or meetings, please notify me¡ªI''ll be sure to attend. Also¡­" Julian pulled a folded check from his pocket and placed it in Oliver''s hand. "This is my donation to the Union, in appreciation for the help and support it provided me in the past."


    Oliver glanced at the check and broke into an incredibly warm smile. The three "zeros" on the check made him more than pleased with Julian, and he promptly tucked the check into his inner pocket. "I''m delighted to have such an outstanding member in the Union. What you mentioned aligns with our purpose and value. Helping every worker in need is our mission. At the next meeting, I''ll propose to make you an honorary director of the Union. What do you think?"

 Chapter 150: Chapter 150 Meeting Mad Dog Wesson Again

    "Of course, it would be my honor!" Just when Julian most needed support and was considering how to deepen his connections with the union, a three-thousand-dollar check resolved all his concerns.Money truly has limitless power¡ªanytime, anywhere!


    Oliver was thrilled; this was good news for him and for the Ternell union. Membership fees alone barely kept the union running. A single lawsuit could cost a sixth, even a quarter, of their annual funds. From the capital''s central labor union to local chapters, everyone sought ways to secure more benefits. They certainly advocated for workers'' rights but also generated value and profit for themselves.


    Fortunately, the world wasn''t short of clever thinkers. Over ten years ago, someone proposed a plan to increase union revenue. After some challenges, it was approved. This plan suggested that the union not only protect workers'' interests but also offer certain services to "capitalists" when necessary. The idea was straightforward: for any businessperson, "skilled workers" were always in high demand because they could create more profit in less time.


    The union had an extensive database of skilled workers and resources. By paying a service fee and filling out some paperwork, capitalists could get the union to assign skilled workers to new positions. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Initially, this plan was rejected; some felt it betrayed the working class. But by the second and third rounds of debate, it was approved. It solved the union''s financial struggles and broadened the union''s real-world scope.


    Although this plan improved union funding, no one ever thought having more money was a bad thing. When Julian handed over the check, Oliver decided on the spot: if Julian might need the union''s help, why not draw him in directly?


    That talk of a future meeting was nonsense¡ªsomething he''d made up on the spot!


    And the real purpose of Oliver''s conversation with Julian tonight was to gather "donations."


    Julian became the evening''s indisputable main supporting role. Tomorrow''s newspapers wouldn''t mention Julian; they''d only focus on the charitable donations of the councilman and mayor. Julian''s name wouldn''t appear at all¡ªhe was simply a supporting role, albeit a significant one.


    If he could spend so much to win favor with those in power, why not donate a portion to the union as well?


    With this in mind, Oliver came to the event and successfully achieved his goal.


    After a brief chat, the city''s bishop, dressed in solemn attire, approached them. His black robe with a white-silver-trimmed vest made him look a few years younger than his actual forty-something age. Oliver nodded and excused himself, leaving Julian and the bishop with ample private space.


    This was routine at charity galas; if anyone made a particularly "generous" bid, representatives from various organizations, including clergy, would take turns to approach them during the reception. They might not gain anything, but there was always a chance of reaping some benefit.


    "Thank you for supporting Ternell''s charitable causes!" The bishop''s voice was slow and smooth, with a tone that was both rich and soothing. Smiling, he placed his hand on Julian''s. "May the Lord''s gaze always be upon you!"


    Julian responded with a pious reply, "God bless us all!"


    The bishop''s eyes widened. He stared at Julian for three to five seconds before asking in a slightly raised tone, "Are you one of God''s children?"


    Julian pulled a check from his pocket and slipped it into the bishop''s hand. "Not yet, but I hope to be!"


    Most of the money Julian had recently earned was now either banked or spent in tonight''s extravagance. Altogether, over twenty thousand dollars had filled others'' pockets. While this spending pained Julian, it also felt strangely satisfying. The money might be gone, but its influence far exceeded its monetary value. What he had purchased tonight would form a protective shield around him.


    Leaving the Ternell Grand Theater, Julian''s cheeks ached. Smiling all night had left his face nearly numb. He patted his face, exhaled, and exited through the main entrance, heading toward his car. As he stood by the door, reaching for his keys, he caught a faint reflection in the car window: a group of people was approaching him from behind.


    Had this been four months ago, he might have turned around to see who was behind him and ask what they wanted. But after experiencing fights and the threat of death, Julian had developed a certain level of social intuition. He didn''t turn or look back; he simply ran.


    He had a gun in the car''s glove compartment, but because of the charity gala''s high status and strict security, he hadn''t brought it inside.


    He could have unlocked the door, slipped inside, retrieved the gun, and calmly fired. But he wasn''t willing to gamble on the chance that everything would go smoothly, so he decided to leave.


    Mad Dog Wesson, who''d waited all night, nearly beat up the informant out of frustration, until he finally saw Julian, the target of this mission, and everyone seemed to "wake up."


    Four months ago, Wesson had his nose broken by Julian. A broken nose might not seem significant, but it had become a joke among his gang. Wesson was always boasting about defeating dozens, hundreds, even thousands of enemies alone, but lately, people had begun questioning his stories. This latest episode¡ªfour people bested by one small guy who then escaped¡ªmade Wesson a laughingstock.


    Just this morning, someone had asked him how many thousands he''d defeated the previous night.


    The source of his humiliation was this guy. So when the car washer told him he''d seen Julian, Wesson immediately gathered his closest allies to corner him. Gritting his teeth, brandishing his club, he chased after Julian, ignoring the fact that he''d just exited the theater¡ªhis mind was filled only with revenge.


    Running with all his might, Julian mentally thanked Mr. Kesma. The heavy labor he''d been forced to do had given him a strong body, ensuring he wouldn''t be easily caught.


    The city by day was governed by law, but under the cover of night, it became a criminal''s paradise.


    Along the way, Julian encountered two groups of patrol officers. Yet, from the way they avoided his gaze and withdrew, Julian knew that seeking help would be futile. As he ran, he stripped off his expensive overcoat, his costly suit, and even his high-priced shoes. Mad Dog Wesson and his gang slowed down while Julian maintained his pace.


    Were it not for his strong urge to vent his anger, Wesson might have stopped long ago. But now, he was still chasing, up until a street corner.


    Turning the corner, Wesson, panting like a broken bellows, held onto the wall, glaring at the empty street with veins bulging on his forehead. After all this, he''d lost his target again, fueling his rage. He smashed the glass of a nearby security window with his club. As he turned around, Julian reappeared in his line of sight.


    "You¡­ still dare to show up?" Mad Dog Wesson took two deep breaths, trying to steady his heaving chest. Pointing his club at Julian, he screamed, "Get him!"


    He thought this would sound intimidating. The dozen or so gang members who had chased Julian were also hot and agitated, immediately charging forward with their weapons. But they soon noticed two figures beside Julian.


    Wesson, leaning against the wall, sneered and said, "Don''t think having two guys will save you. You''re only dooming your friends!"


    Apart from those who''d fallen behind, there were still around thirteen or fourteen gang members. Defeating three young men would be no problem. The tales of one-versus-many battles were only supposed to happen to him, or in legends, and he believed they''d all come here to meet their fate.


    Julian stood still, unmoved. As the gang members charged forward, a contemptuous smile spread across his face. The more he smiled, the angrier Wesson felt. Graf, who''d left earlier, would have understood Julian''s smirk better than anyone. Julian tilted his chin up slightly, looking past the gangsters toward Wesson, and said, "Keep him alive. Deal with the rest."


    At that moment, the two men standing beside Julian stepped out of the shadows into the lamplight. They wore caps with the brims pulled low, casting shadows over their faces. The wind rustled their long coats in the empty street. Reaching into their coats, they drew pistols and, under the shocked gazes of the gang members, raised their guns.

 Chapter 151: Chapter 151 The Ungrateful Car Washer

    Facing firearms is not something everyone has the courage to do while wielding only cold weapons. Without unwavering faith or a spirit of self-sacrifice, the fear of death becomes amplified infinitely. Over a dozen gang members dressed in eccentric attire seemed to have hit the pause button; they didn''t dare make any large movements, fearing that even the slightest action might be misunderstood and end their lives with a single bullet.Mad Dog Wesson also halted in his tracks, feeling his heart pound wildly with unprecedented speed and intensity. Even when he''d faced tens of thousands of enemies alone, he hadn''t been this panicked!


    Alright, he lied. His greatest feat had been taking on two opponents at once before getting thoroughly beaten, but he had a knack for exaggerating his abilities and outcomes. This often led others to believe he was a fierce warrior.


    At this moment, only one thought filled Wesson''s mind: compared to himself, the "Mad Dog," those three guys across from him were the real mad dogs, weren''t they? Although this wasn''t exactly the city center, it was close enough! Firing guns here would carry a completely different implication than doing so in the suburbs or countryside. They wouldn''t open fire, would they? Surely not. They must just be bluffing to scare him!


    He kept trying to pump himself up, fighting to control his trembling legs, and clenched his sphincter tightly to prevent his surging urge to urinate from staining his favorite pants.


    One drop.


    Wesson swore, just one drop escaped uncontrollably. Just as he prepared to say something to save face, his face suddenly felt hot, and the guy directly in front of him jerked his head back, falling backward with a loud thud. The dull sound of him hitting the ground felt like a hand piercing through Wesson''s chest, gripping his heart.


    A brief neural disruption made Wesson lose control of his sphincter, and he not only wet himself but felt an even stronger urge to relieve himself bubbling up.


    He wiped his face with his hand, feeling the warm, sticky moisture tinged with a faint metallic smell; the vivid red under the dim streetlight was especially jarring.


    Bang!


    The two men beside Julian advanced in turn, their raised arms steady. Each gunshot took down a gang member before they could react. When they could finally see Wesson, Wesson could see them too¡ªall the people who had been standing between them had already fallen.


    The air was heavy, almost like concrete. A door on the side of the street slowly opened, and Wesson, barely able to stand as he clutched the wall, felt a surge of hope explode within him.


    There was salvation! A witness! These mad dogs wouldn''t kill him too, would they?


    However, in the next moment, he stared, dumbfounded, as a young man emerged from the doorway, dragging the bodies on the road inside with swift efficiency. In less than two minutes, not a single one of his comrades was left. Soon, some girls came out with buckets, rinsing the blood off the ground and scrubbing it down the drain.


    No longer able to control himself, Wesson collapsed to the ground. In his terror, he didn''t even notice that he was sitting in something warm.


    Julian walked up to Wesson. He looked a bit disheveled; his trench coat was long gone, his shirt buttons ripped open, and he''d lost his shoes, leaving him barefoot. The only thing still intact was his pants. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Standing above Wesson, Julian looked down, rolling his eyes downward to observe Wesson with the corner of his vision.


    "Do we have some kind of irreconcilable grudge?" Julian asked calmly, "To the extent that you''d bring so many people¡­ to hunt me down?"


    The sound of chattering teeth was especially clear in the stillness of the midnight. Wesson''s teeth clacked as he shook his head, forcing a smile uglier than crying, "N-no! Let me explain. There''s no unresolved hatred between us; I just wanted¡­ just wanted¡­" His eyes darted around quickly, like a man on the verge of a breakdown. "I just deeply admire a person of your stature and wanted to pay my respects!"


    His timid tone carried a desperate hope, convinced that his explanation was flawless.


    Julian tilted his head slightly, thinking it over, his hands releasing his right wrist, which he''d been holding. He raised his right hand, and the young man beside him placed a handgun in it.


    "What''s your name?" Julian asked.


    "Wesson! My name is Wesson, sir!"


    A faint smile appeared on Julian''s face. Wesson immediately felt warmth and blinding light in that smile. Surely he''d be safe now, right? Otherwise, why would he be smiling at him? A smile is a symbol of kindness, isn''t it? Wesson grinned foolishly, humbly bowing down from his seated position to kneeling, showing his submission.


    Julian asked with a smile, "I remember not seeing you nearby when I entered the Grand Theater. Can you tell me how you managed to find me?"


    This was a crucial question. If he could be located anytime, anywhere, it indicated two possibilities. The first was that he had become a public figure, so whenever he appeared, he''d be noticed. However, based on his current actions, he hadn''t reached that level, so it was unlikely. The second possibility was that someone was tracking him without his knowledge, which was even more infuriating. No one likes being watched, so he wanted to clarify how this guy had found him.


    Julian''s memory wasn''t bad; he remembered exactly who this guy was but remained silent.


    Wesson disclosed every bit of information about the car washer to Julian. He harbored deep resentment for the car washer; if not for him, Wesson wouldn''t have experienced such misfortune tonight. If he made it out alive¡ªno, he was sure he would¡ªhe''d make sure that guy suffered tomorrow!


    Satisfied with the information he''d gathered, Julian nodded with a smile at the kneeling Wesson. "I think I understand. Well then, good night, Mr. Wesson!"


    The sudden farewell left Wesson momentarily confused, but he nodded repeatedly, offering goodnight wishes and blessings in hopes of ending this dreadful encounter as soon as possible.


    Under the dusky streetlight, beside the road, one man knelt, and the other stood. The light seemed to shun them, casting shadows devoid of brightness amidst the illuminated street.


    The standing figure raised his arm, gripping a gun, and pulled the trigger amidst the kneeling man''s pleas.


    The compressed heat from the firing pin pushed the hollow bullet out of the chamber, spinning at high speed along a nearly straight trajectory. It pierced through a thin layer of skin, some fat, a small amount of muscle, and bit into bone.


    People say the skull is hard, but sometimes it''s not as resilient. A crack began spreading from the point of impact between the bullet and the skull. The bullet, still spinning forward, deformed upon encountering the bone. In the next second, the skull yielded, splitting completely¡­


    Julian handed the gun back to the man beside him, glanced at Wesson''s corpse, with blood fanning out behind him, and shook his head as he turned away.


    "Find that car washer. If he''s a Provian or Ordinian, send him to meet the River God. If he''s a Guar, let him face the trial of the Old King."


    Wesson''s body twitched as a young man grabbed his leg, dragging him into the store. The practiced girls cleaned up the blood on the ground in no time, as if nothing had happened.


    On the other side of the city, the car washer, hugging a bottle of fruit wine, returned home cheerfully. He often had a drink, only a single cup, as his income couldn''t afford indulgence. But tonight was different; he''d paid a cheap, skilled woman a dollar and even bought home a half-full bottle of fruit wine, an extravagance he''d never imagined before. He pushed open the door, taking off his clothes in the dim light and tossing them onto the worn sofa, placing the wine on the table.


    He hummed a tune his mother taught him, basking in the joy of today''s "earnings."


    "You''re back? You''re a bit late today. Shall I warm up your food?" His wife emerged from the bedroom, adding a sense of warmth and a bit of crowding to the small living room.


    Perhaps under the influence of the alcohol, the car washer breathed heavily at the sight of his wife in her nightgown. Like a predator, he pounced, pressing her against the table.


    For a man, money and power are undeniable aphrodisiacs, and five dollars was enough.


    Early the next morning, still not fully awake, the car washer looked at his wife, frowning as he rubbed his head and sat up. He glanced at her again, feeling like he''d done something foolish. Shaking his head, he prepared for work. Just as he opened the door, barely awake, he only glimpsed two half-grown kids before a sharp pain hit his head, and he lost consciousness.

 Chapter 152: Chapter 152 Tax Reforms

    "Mayor, I must say, your accounting is exceptionally well-done!" The investigator from the State Tax Bureau closed the ledger in his hands and removed his glasses, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Piled beside him were stacks of ledgers, all of which he had already reviewed. He''d spent three days skimming through every ledger, and he had to admit, the tax records in Ternell City were "crafted" to near perfection¡ªa seasoned hand had done the work.Opening any ledger, one would find only small sums of a few cents or at most a few dollars. Occasionally, there were one or two larger tax entries, which would ultimately be proven as "marginal profit" or "charitable contributions." Under the Empire''s tax system, neither of these categories incurs any tax.


    "Marginal profit" refers to low-profit trades within the Empire''s prescribed commercial activities, mostly essential goods like wheat or beef. The government has set standardized wholesale and retail prices, unaffected by market fluctuations. Coupled with the existence of "grain protection zones" and "livestock protection zones," the Empire exempts these low-profit trades from taxation.


    Charitable tax exemptions are equally straightforward. The recent charity gala raised over forty thousand dollars in donations, intended directly for impoverished citizens needing aid. However, to prevent corruption and embezzlement, the Empire mandates that all charitable funds be distributed as supplies rather than cash to the recipients.


    For instance, donations might be used to purchase food, clothing, or various essentials, which are then distributed. This minimizes the greed that large sums of money could incite and prevents gangs or organizations from reclaiming the funds from impoverished citizens. Supplies purchased with charitable funds are for charitable purposes, thus also exempt from taxes.


    This may explain why, in Old Party-controlled areas, there is nearly monthly charitable giving. They use this method to legally and reasonably conceal tax issues.


    The mayor sitting nearby chuckled, though it was unclear if he agreed with the investigator''s assessment or dismissed it.


    The investigator shook his head, chuckling. He took a handkerchief from his pocket to clean his glasses, carefully placing them back in his pocket before looking at Peter. "Mayor, in this world, nothing is foolproof or perfect. As a state tax official, I''ve examined more ledgers than Ternell City has had in a hundred years. Find one error, and the entire accounting will collapse naturally."


    He returned the ledger to the table, took a sip of his now-cold coffee. "Perhaps you''re unaware, but during the upcoming midterm election, a new law will be announced. The tax reform proposal has passed the Imperial Parliament and is about to take effect across the Empire."


    "The more realistic your forgeries, the harder the fall will be."


    Peter''s eyebrow twitched; he genuinely hadn''t known the tax reform had already passed. He''d heard there was a plan to switch from voluntary reporting to mandatory reporting. Currently, stores record the price, type, and other information for each item sold, then submit this ledger to the tax office at the end of the month.


    The tax office reviews every entry and calculates a total tax amount, which they then collect in the first week of the following month.


    At its core, the current tax collection method relies entirely on merchants'' honesty. But are merchants truly that conscientious?


    Impossible!


    Many merchants record only a fraction of their sales, reducing their tax burden. Take, for example, a bakery in town. They sell between twenty to thirty dollars of bread daily, sometimes more, but their ledger only reports two or three dollars in sales. With business tax thresholds in place, they owe just five cents in tax daily, or ten cents on a high day.


    In a month, that''s only three dollars!


    But after the reform, everything will change. Simply put, it will be a semi-compulsory tax. Taxation for each business will be based on its operational nature and the number of employees. For example, take that same bakery and classify it as "food processing and retail," setting a tax standard of three dollars.


    For every employee the bakery hires, the monthly tax increases by three dollars. If the bakery employs seven people, including the owner, it would owe twenty-four dollars in tax each month. The tax office wouldn''t care about how much bread it sells or profits it makes; that''s the tax. If the business isn''t profitable, the owner could simply hire fewer employees, perhaps just two bakers and the owner, reducing the monthly tax to nine dollars.


    Each business must strictly register its employee count and business type, with no room for error. These records will be kept by the tax office for future inspections.


    Of course, issues may arise. For instance, if an owner only hires two bakers but has family members like his wife or children helping with sales, he would only report nine dollars in tax each month. While permissible, the tax office will conduct random inspections. If caught engaging in such practices, the owner will owe thirty dollars per person per month as back taxes, covering up to one year.


    A penalty of 120 times could bankrupt some small and medium businesses with just one offense.


    But that''s the law; when the law''s purpose is to protect its own interests, there''s no room for leniency.


    Some in the Imperial Parliament pointed out the severe problems with such a heavy-handed tax approach, noting that small struggling businesses might go bankrupt. But to the bigwigs, a few small businesses failing means nothing compared to the Empire''s treasury.


    Peter said nothing, only maintaining a smile, though his gaze hinted at disdain. Perhaps the New Party could only devise such blunt measures to raise national revenue, highlighting their lack of governance skills. Even if Ternell City''s tax revenue increased, it wouldn''t affect him¡ªit would be the local tax officials'' fault and the fault of those deceitful merchants.


    Standing up, he sighed, "Well, I''ll let you continue your work. I hope you find the ''key error'' you mentioned soon. I wish you success in advance. I have other matters to attend to. Goodbye!" He stepped forward, shook hands with the investigator, nodded, and turned to leave with his coat and hat. He wasn''t worried about the ledgers. Every year, he spent a fortune hiring top professionals to handle this¡ªwhy else would he invest in them?


    Once outside, the mayor''s expression darkened, no longer as carefree as he had seemed inside. The local tax official followed closely behind him. "Keep a close watch on him. Inform me immediately if anything happens. And if things get too serious¡­" He paused, glancing back at the tax official, his cold stare making the official shudder.


    The official gritted his teeth and nodded. Only then did the mayor pat him on the shoulder and get into his car.


    If that investigator truly found any loopholes, they''d have to silence him.


    The Old Party had done such things more than once. Every year, vast sums of tax money, after being concealed, were siphoned off to the higher-ups. If an issue arose, many officials could lose their positions. Peter had no choice but to be cautious and ruthless.


    Once seated in the car, he closed his eyes, finally asking after a while, "Have they found that man, Jon?"


    The driver replied while driving, "Not yet, but they''re close. Some people are already watching near the police station. They''re just waiting for someone to make the first move."


    Satisfied, Peter fell silent. He knew that no one could resist the lure of a bounty. So far, no one had come forward to identify "Jon," not out of loyalty but from fear of retaliation. This also told Peter one thing¡ª"Jon" had someone behind him, someone with enough influence to intimidate those in the know.


    ...


    "You''re saying he''s a half-blood?" S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian looked at Dave in surprise. The car wash worker was of mixed heritage, born to a Provian father and a Guar mother. In this society, women held low status, and in families like these, Guar customs were suppressed to the extreme. The car wash worker likely had no idea how his actions would be judged.


    Dave shrugged. There was no consensus on whether half-bloods deserved the judgment of the gods or the First King, so ultimately, the choice fell to Julian once more.

 Chapter 153: Chapter 153 Resurfacing Of The Guar Crucifixion

    The car wash worker shook his head, feeling as if his skull was about to burst! He vaguely remembered what had happened before he lost consciousness. He''d been dressed and ready for work when, just as he opened his door, two young men struck him on the head with a club, hitting just above his ear. Then came endless darkness, a void that seemed to compress time. When he opened his eyes again, he was here.It was a room with chipped tiles embedded in the walls, the temperature low enough for him to feel a chill. His clothes had been stripped, and he was bound to a table. He struggled, but whoever had tied him up had done a thorough job; the ropes on his limbs didn''t budge. He gritted his teeth and yelled, calling out for a while, but no one came.


    Perhaps because he was now fully conscious, he felt colder, his body trembling and his skin prickling with goosebumps.


    "Damn it, who''s messing with me? My boss is Mad Dog Wesson¡ªyou''ll pay for this!"


    "All right, I was wrong! I realize how foolish I was. Please, just give me something to wear, or at least a blanket!"


    ¡­


    No matter what he said, no one came to disturb the room''s solitude. Just as the car wash worker was about to succumb to despair, fearing he''d freeze to death, he heard the sound of metal scraping¡ªa door opening¡ªand several footsteps approaching. His spirits lifted, and he licked his chapped lips, weakly calling out, "Damn it, help me out here! I''ll do anything, just don''t leave me alone here, okay?"


    He turned his head toward the source of the sound and saw several young men in rubber suits stepping into the room¡ªthe kind of rubber suits favored by butchers, where blood and animal fluids could be easily washed off with a bucket of water.


    Five young men, to be exact. The one leading looked somewhat simple-minded. He approached the table, eyeing the car wash worker, who was too tightly bound to even struggle. "Your mother''s a Guar, isn''t she?"


    People often say that, in life-or-death situations, humans can tap into unimaginable strength. In moments like this, sometimes another phenomenon occurs: heightened mental clarity.


    The car wash worker''s mind clicked, realizing these men were Guars. He nodded vigorously, trying to appear as honest and sincere as possible. "Yes, you''re right. My mother''s Guar, so that makes me Guar too."


    The young man continued, "Didn''t your mother ever tell you what happens to Guars who betray their own?"


    The car wash worker looked blank for a moment, then quickly stammered, "I haven''t betrayed anyone! I swear, I''m just a car wash guy¡ªa nobody! Even if I wanted to betray someone, I wouldn''t even know any big shots to betray!"


    "Exactly!" The young man nodded, stepping back. "You should''ve listened to your mother more. In Guar tradition, traitors must face divine punishment. Since you admit you''re Guar, you''ll face the consequences we all must accept. Let the gods and the ancestral kings judge whether you''re guilty or innocent!" He fell silent, and the other four surrounded the car wash worker.


    One of them stuffed a cloth into his mouth, and a salty taste spread instantly in his mouth, tinged with a stench he found strangely familiar.


    A second later, before his mind could process the sensation, a searing pain ripped through his mind, shattering his defenses.


    They were skinning him alive!


    "Damn it, stop¡­ please, there must be some mistake!" he cursed and pleaded, but the young men seemed oblivious. Their knives gleamed silver and were razor-sharp; he could see his skin peeling away from the fat membrane bit by bit. Oddly, there wasn''t much blood. He prayed to survive but also wished to slip away quickly to God''s embrace.


    In endless terror, he passed out.


    When he awoke, he was strung up near his home, hanging from a statue of a general in a nearby park.


    In less than an hour, as dawn began to break, morning joggers arrived at the park¡ªa popular spot for early exercise. A piercing scream shattered the morning silence, and police soon swarmed the scene.


    Looking at the skinned, barely-breathing, unrecognizable figure dangling from the statue, Pronto''s veins bulged on his forehead. He took only a few glances before turning away, the sight disgusting him so much that even his veteran instincts made him want to vomit. He waved over two young officers, who looked equally sickened. "Get him down and rush him to the hospital. If he makes it, ask if he remembers who did this."


    "What if¡­ he doesn''t make it?" one young officer asked hesitantly. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Experience, or perhaps just desensitization, separated Pronto''s response. He rolled his eyes. "If he doesn''t make it, do you plan to bring a corpse back to the station? Idiot! Of course, we hand him over to the hospital¡ªthey''ll turn him into a popsicle and then burn him!"


    After giving instructions, Pronto left the scene, got into his car, and sat in silence for a moment before instructing his driver, "Take me to the Eastern Star, down that damned Queen''s Avenue!"


    There was no doubt in his mind that Julian was behind this. Before Julian''s rise, no one would use such brutal punishment on Guars. Only after his ascendance had this sort of punishment resurfaced in the city. Whatever this guy''s betrayal entailed, it undoubtedly involved Julian.


    Honestly, Pronto didn''t want to be involved in such messy affairs. He knew that even if he discovered Julian was behind it, he wouldn''t be able to lock him up. Julian''s influence stretched across the Eastern Star, his club, and even the streets, with plenty of people willing to take the fall for him. Within Ternell''s Guar community, Julian''s authority had surged rapidly, even surpassing Heidler''s.


    People trusted Julian, and he repaid that trust by lifting many Guar families out of poverty, giving them clothes to wear, food to eat, and a decent life. To the true elites of the city, this "decency" might be no more than the desperate cries of the impoverished, but Julian had achieved it¡ªhe had changed their lives, and they trusted him.


    Pronto''s police car soon parked outside the Eastern Star. From the second floor, Julian watched him step out of the vehicle, shrugged, and turned to Dave with a smile. "Trouble has arrived."


    Yes, trouble had indeed arrived.


    Pronto entered with a scowl, taking a seat across from Julian. A table separated them, like a chasm between worlds.


    "You shouldn''t be so brazen¡ªnot at a time like this!" Pronto began, complaining right off the bat. "I''ve already managed to cover for you the last couple of times, but if you keep stirring up trouble, there will come a day when I can''t help you anymore."


    Julian leisurely retrieved a box of cigarettes from the drawer, tossing one over. Dave promptly pulled out a lighter, leaning toward Pronto to offer a light. Pronto gave Dave a sidelong glance, then stared at Julian for a moment before lighting his cigarette.


    "Listen to me," Pronto continued. "If you want to play vigilante, do it outside the city. Out there, no one will care, but in the city, it''s different¡ªI don''t want this to blow up." He exhaled a puff of smoke, initially intending to use harsher words to admonish Julian, but something inexplicably made him soften his tone. He wasn''t sure why, but he felt he should.

 Chapter 1 - 1 A Dream Awakened

    Julian Kesma was the third boy in the Kesma family. Above him were two older brothers and an older sister, and below him were three younger brothers and two younger sisters. It could be said that, by Julian''s generation, the Kesma family was quite prosperous.


    However, unfortunately, the Kesma name wasn''t one of prestige or deep-rooted background. The so-called "family" was merely a good-natured joke made by the villagers, directed at Mr. Kesma, a farmer, simply because he had so many children. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Yes, Julian was merely a farmer''s son. Every day, he had to complete backbreaking labor just to enjoy a tiny bit of free time after dinner.


    If nothing unexpected happened, Julian would likely, at the age of twenty, offer a dowry of a mule or two to marry a woman from the countryside¡ªone with a face full of freckles and hands as rough as his own, a woman who could match his skill in farm work.


    Afterward, his father would drive him out of the house, and with the help of his siblings, Julian would build a small wooden cabin as close to home as possible. Then, just like his farmer father, he would live his life.


    By day, he would expand the farmland as much as possible, taking care of crops that weren''t particularly hard to manage. By night, he would focus his efforts on his wife''s belly, hoping to have enough children to eventually lighten his load.


    Nearly all farmers lived such uneventful lives. There might be a brief glimmer of excitement in their simple lives, but it was like a fleeting sparkle in the sunlight¡ªhardly noticeable.


    But this only happened when nothing went wrong, and our story begins when a small unexpected event happens to Julian!


    "Oh my Lord! How did this happen?" Mrs. Kesma covered her mouth, staring in disbelief as her eldest and second sons dragged an unconscious Julian from the wagon.


    Clearly, his head was injured, with a dried bloodstain on his forehead. If he hadn''t knocked his head on a stone after drinking his father''s wine, perhaps it was another misadventure like raiding a bird''s nest.


    In a place far from the city, there wasn''t much in the way of entertainment, except for the time after dark. Most young men filled their free time with drinking, gambling, or sneaking peeks at girls. If possible, they might also try to find some wild game to treat their meager appetites.


    Mason, the eldest son, wiped the sweat from his brow with his rolled-up sleeve and gave a bitter smile as he explained. Simply put, after finishing their work, the three brothers had sneaked off to laze around on the haystacks. A stone, from who knows where, hit Julian on the forehead, and he had been unconscious since.


    Tears welled up in Mrs. Kesma''s eyes as she walked over to Julian, gently smoothing his hair. Her rough hand stroked his still-youthful face. "My poor Julian..." When she looked up again, her gaze became fierce. "Do you know who threw the stone?"


    In the countryside, if a woman had a "lady-like" demeanor, she probably wouldn''t live past thirty, succumbing to a quiet despair. Never underestimate the destructive power of country folk. The constant hard labor gave them sharp tongues and a wild nature far beyond what they seemed capable of.


    Brawls¡ªmore so than mere shouting matches¡ªwere the real entertainment here, often erupting over trivial matters.


    Mason scratched his head awkwardly. He hadn''t seen who threw it.


    Mrs. Kesma called him useless before instructing the brothers to carry Julian back to his squeaky bed.


    They didn''t call a priest or a doctor¡ªnot because they couldn''t afford it, but because they had to wait. If Julian didn''t wake up in a day or two, they would invite the town''s only priest or the toothless doctor to examine him.


    City folks might see this as neglect or worse, but in the countryside, this was the only sensible way.


    Unless absolutely necessary, not a single coin would be spent!


    While unconscious, Julian had a dream¡ªa complex one, full of strange and wonderful things, an indescribable journey. When something called a bullet pierced the dreamer, he awoke.


    And his first words upon waking stirred waves in the family''s long-standing peace.


    "I''m going to the city!"


    Mr. Kesma sat cross-legged on a hard wooden chair, smoking a cigarette until it burned out. He flicked the last bit to the floor and crushed it with his foot. When he looked up again, the family members all sat with slightly bowed heads, their expressions serious and respectful.


    Mr. Kesma was the true ruler of this household. Without him, none of them would be here. In the ignorance of the countryside, his authority was higher than the law or the church.


    "You... want to go to the city?" Mr. Kesma tried to soften his tone, though he thought it was the most foolish idea. The city wasn''t a place anyone could go. If the countryside was a peaceful nest, the city was hell¡ªa den of devils. Every second there was torment.


    Even breathing seemed to cost money.


    No money?


    Then you''d end up a beggar, hoping for a kind soul''s charity. Worse yet, someone might snatch you up to work in the northern mines. Strong young men like Julian were exactly what the mine owners looked for.


    Facing his father''s question, Julian nodded seriously. "Yes, Father. I''m going to the city. I can''t waste my life away here. Life is precious, and if it doesn''t shine brilliantly, living isn''t any better than dying."


    "You can''t even read! Once you get to the city, you''ll be like a blind man with open eyes. You won''t be able to read street signs, newspapers, or even job postings!"


    Even though Mr. Kesma tried to discourage him, Julian had already made up his mind. He couldn''t stay here and rot like a walking corpse. He needed to create a life for himself.


    Just like that poor soul in his dream¡ªeven if it meant losing everything, even if it ended with a bullet, Julian would let his brilliance shine.

 Chapter 2 - 2 Breaking Free And Journey To The Unknown

    "If a life is mediocre, it is better to die!"


    "I will learn, Father. I know you have your wisdom, but I want to leave here and venture out. I can repair shoes, and I can fix umbrellas. These are skills that can sustain me in the city. I can endure hardship, Father. I won''t ask for pay¡ªjust a place to live. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I believe someone will hire a fool like me."


    Every week, a cart would pass through this place called Clover Town, but to board it, one needed money.


    In the Kesma family, aside from Mr. Kesma, no one had much money¡ªnot even Mason, the nineteen-year-old eldest son, and certainly not Julian, who came after him.


    "Are you sure you want to leave? Leave me, your mother, and your brothers and sisters?" Mr. Kesma''s tone grew stern. For a parent born and raised in the countryside, the hardest thing to bear was a child''s ignorance in rejecting good intentions and defying their will.


    Julian was silent for a moment, then stood up and removed his belt¡ªa strong leather strap covered in a thick layer of grime. He placed it on the table, took off his shirt, and lay down on the floor.


    "If you wish to carry out family discipline, then please do it before I leave!" Julian declared firmly. "Because I''ve made my first, and most important, decision in life¡ªI''m going to the city."


    "Even if I get hurt or die in the city, it will be on the path I chose. I respect and love you. You gave me life, but I hope that, at least once in my life, I can take control of my own future!"


    In the end, Mr. Kesma didn''t pick up the belt. He smoked two cigarettes in a row, his eyes occasionally drifting toward his children. Though he wasn''t well-educated or particularly wise, life had given him the wisdom every human gains over time. When one puppy leaves the den, the others will soon want to follow.


    Julian may not have realized it yet, but his decision was changing not just himself, but also his siblings.


    It was a silent night. No one felt like talking, each pondering Julian''s impending departure.


    At dawn, Mr. Kesma sat at the table outside the kitchen. Beside him was a small tin box he had once brought back from a trip to the city. It had once been filled with filtered cigarettes, which Mr. Kesma had treasured. Later...


    it seemed that by the next New Year, when he opened the box, he found the cigarettes were covered in mold.


    Regrettably, he had laid them out in the sun, hoping to save them, but it proved pointless.


    Since then, the little tin box had become his container for important things, hidden beneath the third wooden plank under his bed.


    Yes, everyone in the family knew where he hid things, but he still believed no one else did.


    Knowing today would be his last day in this decaying countryside, as he set off to build a future in the big city, Julian hadn''t slept all night. Yet in the morning, he was full of energy. He wore his light linen suspenders and a pale blue canvas shirt¡ªworn thin from many washes¡ªtypical of the countryside. He had cleaned himself up and was filled with hope for the future.


    "Father!"


    Julian greeted his father, and Mr. Kesma motioned for him to sit down. Once Julian sat, his father pushed the cup aside, picked up the small tin box, hesitated for a moment, and finally handed it to Julian.


    "There''s twenty dollars inside. That should be enough to last you at least three months in the city. After that, you''ll have two choices: either make something of yourself or return here starving." He patted Julian''s shoulder hard and squeezed tightly, causing Julian to wince in pain. "Remember, you''re a son of the Kesma family.


    Whether or not you can ever become like those respectable men, don''t forget you always have a way back."


    "No matter when, we''ll always welcome you home!"


    Julian could hardly believe the normally stern and serious man, who always seemed so rigid, could say something so emotional. His nose tingled, and he nodded firmly. "I understand. If I ever return, it won''t be because I''ve failed and am coming back in shame. I''ll return with flowers lining the streets and people playing music, welcoming the return of a king!"


    Mr. Kesma chuckled and slapped the back of Julian''s head. "Get going, boy, and stop playing with words."


    Without saying goodbye to the rest of the family, the two of them left the house in silence, walking to the edge of the small town. After waiting for about half an hour, an old, clumsy-looking bus with sixteen wheels slowly approached. A few people were already aboard, but most of the seats were still empty.


    As the bus came to a stop, Mr. Kesma suddenly pulled Julian into a tight embrace, slapping his back as if trying to etch the moment into his memory. "Go on, go. The fledgling must leave the nest and live on its own. I can''t give you a privileged life, but I won''t stop you from soaring high!"


    Julian took a deep breath, looking at his father''s wrinkled face and the graying hair that had begun to thin. His eyes misted over. Without another word, he boarded the bus, choosing a seat by the window. As the bus rumbled down the bumpy road, Julian watched his father''s reluctant gaze fade into the distance, as he left behind the town that had raised him for sixteen years.

 Chapter 3 - 3 Julians First Steps

    Ternell City is located in the southwestern region of the empire. Compared to the bustling southeast coastal area, Ternell City appears less prosperous. However, for those living in Ternell, this place is a paradise compared to the dirt-laden rural areas.


    Julian gazed curiously at the bustling streets. Although he had seen cities far more advanced and prosperous in his dreams, those were just dreams¡ªthis was real. He adjusted the patched-up backpack on his shoulder and eagerly looked around the street, planning his next move.


    Learning the language was essential. The streets were filled with signs and letters he couldn''t recognize, which would limit his future development. Next, he needed to find a job that could temporarily support him, not necessarily one that paid well, but at least a job that provided a basic place to stay and two meals a day.


    As he walked the unfamiliar streets of the city, he felt a tinge of fear but, even more, a sense of hope for the future. He noticed that the sky here seemed bluer than in the countryside, and even the air felt refreshing.


    "Hey... you, kid over there!"


    Julian turned to the voice. Beside a car, which seemed a bit funny to him but was actually the latest model in this world, a man in a bowler hat beckoned him over.


    "Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" Julian immediately walked over, unsure of why this wealthy-looking man was calling him, but he wasn''t too concerned about being bossed around¡ªeverything here was new and exciting to him.


    The man looked Julian up and down before nodding slightly toward the car. Behind it were a few crates that looked heavy. "Help me carry these up to room 411 on the fourth floor."


    Julian was momentarily stunned, but his face quickly lit up with a smile. He adjusted his backpack and went over to lift the crates. They were indeed heavy, and as he picked them up, he noticed some liquid sloshing inside. The man seemed surprised by how easily Julian handled them and pointed toward a nearby five-story building, signaling him to hurry up.


    Carrying the heavy crates, Julian made his way to the fourth floor, a bit out of breath. Back in the countryside, he had been one of the main laborers in his household, accustomed to heavy work. Although the crates were heavy, they were nothing he couldn''t handle.


    He found room 411 using the numbers he had learned from coins. After knocking on the door lightly with his foot, the door opened just a crack, and a man with a grim expression peered out through the gap, his eyes cold and eerie. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "A gentleman downstairs asked me to bring these crates up," Julian explained.


    The door opened a little wider, and the man leaned out, glancing up and down the quiet hallway before fully opening the door. Julian noticed a detail: as the man opened the door, his right hand moved behind his back and then reappeared.


    Looking at the crates in Julian''s arms, the man seemed somewhat surprised. "You''re pretty strong!" He stepped aside, allowing Julian to enter. "Just put the stuff behind the door."


    After following his instructions and placing the crates down, the man rather rudely pushed Julian out of the room and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.


    Staring at the closed wooden door, Julian stood there for a moment, then shrugged and made his way downstairs.


    The man downstairs hadn''t left. When he saw Julian, he said nothing, simply pulled a one-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to him. Without waiting for Julian to thank him, the man drove off.


    Watching the car disappear down the street, Julian whistled to himself. It seemed making money in the city wasn''t as hard as he thought. Look, he''d already earned a dollar in just over an hour¡ªa sum equal to three days'' wages for an ordinary person.


    People always feel a sense of pride in their first time doing anything, even if it''s something trivial. As Julian thought about the first dollar he had ever earned through his own labor, he began looking for a place to stay.


    Ideally, he wanted to find a leather workshop, as the profession of a leatherworker would ensure he never went hungry¡ªa saying he had once heard from a drunken wolf pelt buyer in Wild Clover Town.


    A wolf pelt worth ten cents¡ªwild coyotes often appeared in groups outside Wild Clover Town, attracted by the livestock. These coyotes were the bane of the townspeople. They used traps to kill the coyotes and then sold the pelts to leather merchants who visited once a month.


    According to that leather merchant, these pelts, which could only be sold for ten cents, were crafted by leatherworkers into items worth ten or even dozens of dollars!


    Julian figured that if he wanted to improve his life quickly, becoming a leatherworker''s apprentice was the fastest, most straightforward path.


    Of course, he didn''t know that mastering any trade could yield similar results.


    After wandering around the city for a while, Julian''s head was spinning. He had never seen such a large city, with so many people, streets, and buildings.


    And of course, there were the cars.


    No more opportunities like the one earlier came his way, and as for finding a leatherworker¡­ he hadn''t had any luck either.


    Using water from a roadside pump, he ate a rock-hard whole wheat loaf of bread, marking his first night spent in the city.


    He also experienced, for the first time, something called loneliness. Curled up under a bridge, he eventually fell asleep to the sound of the howling wind.


    Over the course of several days, Julian explored every corner of Ternell City. He found three leather shops, but none of the owners were hiring. He shifted his focus to other jobs, like tailoring, carpentry, or any other respectable work. Whether it was bad luck or some other reason, no one wanted to hire him. He quickly realized that there was often an unbridgeable gap between dreams and reality.


    Two weeks later, after countless failures, Julian finally found a way to make some money¡ªby washing cars.


    All he needed was a bucket of water, a cheap bar of soap, a dried-out gourd sponge, and a towel, and he could start cleaning cars on the roadside. The total cost of these supplies was less than a dollar, and for each car he washed, he earned at least five or ten cents. If he could wash a dozen or twenty cars a day, he could make a fortune!


    Drawing from experiences in his dreams, this was the time to expand, hire people, and create a brand...


    It seemed like a good plan.


    On the evening of his sixteenth day in Ternell, Julian walked to the roadside with a bucket of water. He had scouted out the area¡ªacross the street was the Ternell Grand Theater, where every day, wealthy patrons came to enjoy operas and comedy shows. It was the most profitable spot.


    As dusk fell, Ternell City came alive, waking from its slumber. The city already amazed Julian; he couldn''t imagine what an even bigger city would look like.


    The honking of a car horn snapped him out of his thoughts. A brand-new Augum car had stopped nearby. A stern-faced man wearing a trench coat and hat stepped out. He glanced at Julian, patted his car, and casually tossed two five-cent coins onto the ground before heading up the steps to the theater without a word.


    What an arrogant man! Julian muttered to himself as he picked up his bucket. "If I ever become rich, I won''t be like him."


    Julian shook his head, resolved that if he ever rose to wealth, he would never forget to treat other people with respect.

 Chapter 4 - 4 Julians Encounter with the City’s Underworld

    Julian was a diligent person, and there was no doubt about that. Back in the countryside, working the fields under Mr. Kesma''s supervision, there was no room for slacking. This upbringing instilled in Julian a strong work ethic. It only took him two days for the upper-class patrons of the Ternell Grand Theater to recognize the name Julian, the car washer.


    He made sure every corner of each car was spotless, even using a sharpened wooden stick wrapped in a cloth to clean out hidden crevices. Unlike the other roadside car washers who did a hasty, half-hearted job and shamelessly pocketed their fees, Julian took pride in his work.


    Within just two days, Julian had built a reputation, and he was thrilled. His plan was moving forward, and he even began to consider absorbing other less successful car washers to work for him after a while. Before long, he could rent a storefront along the street and open a dedicated car detailing shop.


    The term "car detailing" was something he had learned in his dreams. It wasn''t just about washing cars but also included maintenance and modifications. While Julian didn''t know much about those areas, he knew there were people in Ternell who did, and he only needed to hire them to work for him.


    Unfortunately, Julian''s dream of a "car-washing empire" barely took its first step before it was shattered.


    "That''s the guy! He''s breaking the rules, stealing all our customers!" A dark-skinned, skinny man in a flat cap pointed at Julian, who was busy washing a car at the roadside.


    In this city, there were aspects of life that most ordinary people didn''t understand. We could call it the darker side, or perhaps refer to these people and their world as the underworld. Gangs weren''t unique to Ternell City. Even in the more prosperous, distant core of the empire, similar phenomena existed.


    Just as there is darkness where there is light, everything has two sides. The Empire of Shining Star, still recovering from the wounds of the North-South War, was striving for change. But any significant change that could alter people''s lives often came with great risks¡ªand great rewards. Some benefits were bathed in sunlight, while others thrived in the shadows.


    These gangs didn''t exist to make the city more chaotic. In fact, one might find it laughable, but in many ways, they acted more like the police than the police themselves. They used violence to maintain order in their territories, enforcing rules that no one dared to break. In doing so, they made the city somewhat more peaceful, reducing the number of petty criminals who sought quick, easy scores.


    They were like dark viruses, slowly consuming the light.


    Beside the scrawny man stood four sturdy young men. The leader wore a blue-and-red checkered shirt with a short jacket over it and a cream-colored flat cap. He clearly wanted to look respectable, but the twitching muscles on his face made it hard to believe in his appearance of authority.


    This man was known as "Mad Dog Wesson" to those familiar with him in Ternell. In his own bragging stories, he claimed to have single-handedly killed seventeen or eighteen enemies in a street gunfight. His ruthless and wild nature earned him the nickname Mad Dog, and he was quite fond of it.


    Wesson and his three men approached Julian. Julian was in the middle of washing a car, with two more waiting behind it. He was just about to dip his cloth back into the bucket when a polished brown leather shoe appeared in his line of sight and kicked the bucket over.


    Julian was still unsure what had just happened. Straightening up, he looked at the four men, who had fierce, hostile looks in their eyes. Puzzled, he nodded politely. "Gentlemen?" He didn''t understand what they wanted, but he had a sinking feeling that he was in serious trouble.


    Wesson gave Julian a scornful once-over and then glanced at the half-washed car. "Have you paid your ''protection fee''?"


    Protection fee?


    "What''s that?" Julian asked, bewildered. He sensed they were trying to cause trouble, but the term "protection fee" didn''t sound particularly intimidating.


    Two years ago, the term "protection fee" hadn''t even existed; back then, it was called "safety fee." It was a mandatory fee collected by the local gangs from everyone operating businesses in their territory.


    Only after paying the safety fee could businesses operate without harassment, and the gang would offer them "protection." If they didn''t pay, they''d be harassed endlessly until their business couldn''t function.


    After an incident involving a baron who had refused to pay the fee and was attacked by gang members, the Empire took notice. The gang responsible, which was less a gang and more a family-run, quasi-religious organization, managed to settle the matter after a lengthy court battle lasting over 170 days. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Since then, the term "protection fee" was phased out and replaced by the more neutral-sounding "comfort fee." Though old-fashioned, the term conveyed the meaning quite well.


    Wesson was dumbfounded. How could anyone in Ternell City, or even in the Empire of Shining Star, not know what a comfort fee was?


    In the next moment, he assumed that Julian was mocking him, and in a surge of anger, he swung his fist!


    In the countryside, how did people resolve disputes? There were no police, and certainly no judges, so fairness was often determined by who had the strongest fists. Mr. Kesma''s family had been in a few disputes themselves, like over that borderline stone that weighed several dozen pounds but was light enough to be blown away by the wind. Fights over land ownership were common in the countryside.


    The Kesma family, being skilled fighters, usually won those disputes.


    Seeing the fist coming his way, Julian instinctively leaned back, narrowly dodging the punch, and then instinctively countered with a punch of his own.


    His punch was precise and powerful, striking Wesson squarely in the jaw from below. Wesson''s head snapped back, saliva flying from his slightly open mouth. His eyes went dazed as he stumbled back a step, unsteady on his feet.


    Onlookers, both pedestrians and shopkeepers, sighed inwardly. This young man had really gotten himself into trouble. Over the past two days, Julian had made a good impression on the local businesses. He always washed the pavement clean after washing a car, never leaving dirty water behind. If he borrowed water, he would give a penny for it, never taking it for free.


    And if anyone needed a hand with something, Julian would always help if he had time.


    What a good young man, but how could he not realize the trouble he was in?


    With someone like Wesson, you had to talk nicely and carefully appease him. Only by keeping him happy could things remain peaceful. After all, Wesson was a mad dog!


    "Sorry¡­ it was just instinct¡­" Julian apologized as he stepped back, still looking slightly guilty. Wesson hadn''t hit him, but he had landed a solid punch on Wesson. For some reason, this guy didn''t seem nearly as tough as Julian''s sister.


    It took Wesson a while to come to his senses. His face burned¡ªnot from the punch, but from the shame of being watched by others. Gritting his teeth, he shoved away the man who had been helping him and drew a long blade from behind his back, charging at Julian with a yell.


    "Let me teach you what respect is!"

 Chapter 5 - 5 Struggle for Survival

    Julian knows very well that local people tend to team up when fighting outsiders, and as tough as he was from his rural days, he was not an idiot who believed he could overpower so many people.


    Seeing Mad Dog Wesson charging at him with a knife, Julian turned and bolted. He didn''t believe his flesh-and-bone arms and legs could withstand the sharp edge of iron.


    One person ran in front, while a few others chased behind. After about two streets, the people behind were panting, stopping intermittently, watching as Julian, still running at full speed, disappeared around the corner. They were so frustrated that even breathing became difficult. After all, they were gang members, not athletes.


    While they might be good at fighting and killing, they were certainly not skilled at running.


    "What''s that... kid''s name again?" Mad Dog Wesson, leaning against a streetlight pole, panted heavily like an exhausted dog, his tongue out and gasping for air. His chest was burning painfully, partly because his rapid breathing had dried out and tightened the membranes in his airways, and partly because he was furious.


    His sidekick, bending over with hands on his knees, also panted out in broken speech, "I think... he''s called... Julian?"


    Wesson felt slightly better after stopping. He slashed his knife at the streetlight pole, sending sparks flying, and barked, "Get our people to find him!"


    Having run a good distance and realizing there were no pursuers, Julian stopped, panting heavily. He felt awful¡ªnot because he was worried about gang retaliation, nor because running was exhausting, but because he had lost a chance that could have led him to success. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He punched the wall beside him. Those damn gang members were truly despicable.


    At the same time, a question lingered in his mind¡ªwhat exactly was this "Anluo fee"?


    Ever since he arrived in the city, nothing had gone smoothly, except for the dollar he earned on the first day. No one was willing to hire him, there were no ways to make money, and every day he had to hide under a bridge, enduring the foul smells. The food he ate was the cheapest whole wheat bread, harder than bricks, and hitting it with a stone only left a few white marks.


    The water he drank was from street pumps, and he hadn''t had a hot meal in nearly a month.


    After finally finding an opportunity to fulfill his life''s ambitions, it had been ruined by these people.


    Dejected, he turned two streets and headed back to the bridge where he stayed. He needed to quietly think about his future. But as he approached the bridge, he froze.


    The area around the bridge was filled with wild dogs and rats, so after cleaning the area, Julian had used a discarded wooden board to make a simple door to block the entrance, preventing any rats or dogs from getting in and damaging his backpack or clothes.


    But now... the wooden board was cracked, thrown aside, and Julian rushed into the bridge, his heart sinking instantly.


    Everything was gone, including that damned cigarette box. He had hidden it behind a loose brick, but now that brick lay at his feet, and the small metal box was nowhere to be found.


    Not a single thing had gone his way for nearly a month. Sitting on the ground with his back against the bridge wall, Julian covered his face with his hands in defeat.


    Why?


    Is this the torment the God has chosen for me?


    For the first time, he had the idea of returning to the countryside and living an ordinary life. But quickly, that thought was consumed by a raging fire within him. Slowly, he lowered his hands, clenching them into tight fists, his eyes twitching slightly.


    No, I can''t just go back. This isn''t the God''s torment, it''s His test! Pushing through this will lead me to a bright path. If I fall here, I''ll remain an insignificant country bumpkin for the rest of my life! The God has given me precious wealth, how could I let myself sink into despair? Nothing can stop me¡ªnot just a few hardships!


    Come on, let''s fight this battle to the death!


    Julian felt the four five-cent coins in his pocket and turned to leave the bridge. His thoughts were no longer about how to quickly become a refined, upper-class man, but rather how to survive in this city and find the road to his dreams.


    "Are you sure?" An elderly man, with graying hair and a gold-rimmed monocle over his left eye, looked up at him from behind lowered brows. The old man was dressed impeccably, his tailored suit and white shirt exuding a sense of nobility. Facing the elder''s inquiry, Julian nodded firmly.


    This was the recruitment office at the steam locomotive station. The steam locomotive was somewhat similar to the trains in Julian''s dreams, as both ran on tracks, though their power sources differed. Trains relied on burning fuel to generate steam that propelled their heavy cars, while steam locomotives used something called "Brilliance Crystals" as their power source.


    All it took was placing a Brilliance Crystal into a machine''s filling chamber, adding a catalyst, and the crystal would continuously release unimaginable heat and gas.


    At that point, adding some water produced steam. Everything from cars on the road to large machinery on construction sites¡ªall mechanical devices seemed to use Brilliance Crystals as fuel.


    Ternell city might appear to Julian as a bustling metropolis, but for the empire as a whole, it was merely a remote border town, producing little besides food and animal hides.


    Oh, and liquor.


    Though Ternell was just a small town, it didn''t stop "Ternell Station" from being a crucial hub in the empire''s rail transport network. Steam locomotives passed through here daily, unloading large quantities of goods or loading them up before departing.


    Both loading and unloading required manual labor. In the empire''s most prosperous cities, machines had already replaced manpower for such tasks, sparking several protests.


    Of course, in rural areas like this, human labor was still cheaper.


    Hard labor was always the lowest rung of work. Anyone with even a bit of skill wouldn''t choose to waste so much time and energy on meager pay.


    So when Julian applied to be a porter, the station manager needed to confirm things several times.


    "You can call me Kreen. Before you start working, you''ll need to sign an agreement. The agreement states that you must work at the station for at least six months. If, for any reason, you leave within those six months, you''ll have to pay a fifty-dollar penalty," Kreen said. "If you meet the six-month requirement, you''ll receive a two-cent bonus for every hour worked beyond that period."


    "In addition, we''ll provide you with a place to stay and two meals a day. These don''t require extra payment. If you have no further questions, you can sign here." Kreen turned the agreement toward Julian, tapping the top of the page with his index finger before sliding it forward.


    Julian stared at the agreement for a long moment before awkwardly saying, "Sorry, I don''t know how to write my name."


    Kreen raised an eyebrow but did not mock him. Instead, he nodded slightly. "Don''t feel bad, child. Many who work here can''t write their names either." He flipped the agreement back toward himself, signed "Julian Kesma" on it, and took out a small red wax box. "Just put your fingerprint here."


    "Though it might seem... impolite to say this, I think you should take the time to learn how to read a newspaper and write your own name while you''re still young. What do you think?"


    After pressing his fingerprint on the agreement, Julian took two steps back. The closer he got to Mr. Kreen, the more he felt his own insignificance. He felt that the nearer he came to that clean, noble-looking red desk, the more insignificant he appeared.


    People are supposed to be equal, but in this room, facing Mr. Kreen, Julian felt no sense of equality at all!


    He lowered his head and muttered, "Yes, I plan to look for a school once I''ve earned some money."


    Mr. Kreen glanced at the agreement and pulled out a copy, pushing it to the edge of the desk. "Good. Education elevates a person''s character and understanding. I know of a place that offers classes to older students for a very reasonable price."


    Just as he was about to end the conversation, something crossed his mind. "Oh, one more thing. After you''ve signed the agreement, you''re officially a worker at the station. In a few days, union representatives might come to find you. My advice: don''t take them too seriously. Someone will tell you what to do."


    As Julian left Mr. Kreen''s office, he exhaled deeply.


    Since reaching for the stars had proven to be nothing more than a naive and ridiculous fantasy, he would now plant his feet firmly on the ground and move forward, step by step.

 Chapter 6 - 6 Graf

    Working at the "dock" was no easy task. Every day, massive amounts of goods had to be loaded or unloaded, and the work often started before dawn and continued late into the night.


    The pay for this job was low, and the workload incredibly intense, making it difficult to find enough workers. That''s why the contract included a clause stating that leaving before six months would result in a fifty-dollar penalty. As for why the contract term was six months instead of a year or more, there was a reason.


    Initially, the high-intensity labor would only leave workers feeling tired, but over time, it would take a serious toll on their bodies.


    With a lack of proper nutrition, no comfortable rest environment, and the noise of passing steam locomotives at night, these workers gradually developed various health issues, like bone deformities, commonly referred to as "occupational diseases." From the capitalists'' perspective, these sick workers were no longer capable of handling heavy manual labor.


    Keeping them on, providing food and shelter, was considered a loss. Their only option was to be kicked out.


    However, the situation wasn''t that simple due to the existence of labor unions. To the capitalists, labor unions were something disgusting, making them feel sick to their stomachs. They hated the unions but couldn''t get rid of them, forced to tolerate their presence. Under the protections of both imperial and religious law, they had to navigate through various regulations.


    For instance, occupational diseases were classified as work injuries. The station either had to pay a large sum to send the workers off or continue supporting them until they turned forty-five.


    By the god above, even paying workers an extra five cents felt like cutting off a piece of flesh for the capitalists. That''s why the station''s contracts were signed for six-month periods. After the contract expired, workers who wanted to renew it would need to undergo a health check. If they were confirmed to be healthy and free from deformities, they could sign again.


    Those who developed health issues, however, were simply kicked out. Once the contract was fulfilled, the station had no further responsibility for any illnesses or injuries the workers might have developed.


    By that time, the union would have no grounds to challenge the station.


    Julian, of course, had no idea about any of this. In Mr. Kreen''s eyes, Julian was just a naive country boy who would be discarded after six months, left to fend for himself. Education? That school was run by Kreen''s daughter. Why not introduce the workers to a bit of education, help them gain some knowledge and manners?


    The next morning, Julian arrived at the station. It was early, and the chill of late summer turning into autumn hung in the air. Rubbing his arms for warmth, he stood at the platform lit by oil lamps, where several workers were already gathering, preparing for the arrival of the first steam locomotive.


    "New here?" A man in his thirties, built like a bear, wearing only a vest, had a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He pulled out another one and offered it to Julian.


    Back in the countryside, Julian and his brothers would sometimes steal cigarettes from Mr. Kesma, each taking a puff for fun. It wasn''t about enjoying the smoke but more about the thrill. Now, faced with this stranger''s offer, Julian hesitated briefly but accepted it, saying, "Thanks for the cigarette. I''m Julian."


    After lighting Julian''s cigarette, the man flicked the match to the ground and stamped it out with a few heavy steps. He took a deep drag, exhaled, and said, "Smoking''s banned at the station. They say in some places, smoking at the station has caused fires that burned up the cargo."


    He extended his hand with a grin, "My name''s Graf. Glad to work with you."


    Julian shook his hand, immediately feeling a sense of connection. There''s something about simple exchanges and small gestures that can quickly close the gap between strangers.


    "It''s an honor to meet you, sir," Julian said politely, taking a puff of the cigarette but quickly starting to cough.


    Graf laughed heartily. "Don''t call me ''sir.'' That''s for high society folks. Just call me Graf. So, how''s the cigarette?" He waved it in front of Julian.


    After a long coughing fit, Julian finally managed to catch his breath. He didn''t dare take another puff. "What''s in this thing?"


    Graf grinned, clearly pleased. "Oh, aside from a little tobacco, there''s straw, dried vine gourd, some orange peel, and a pinch of chili powder ground fine as flour."


    "Come on, Graf, no one can handle that!" one of the workers nearby called out with a laugh.


    Graf shrugged, unconcerned. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and glanced at them sideways. "This guy can handle it!" He nudged Julian with his elbow.


    In reality, most workers smoked cigarettes like these, adding all kinds of ingredients to stretch the tobacco. They didn''t make enough money to afford real cigarettes, which were considered a luxury. The workers would collect cigarette butts left around the station, empty the remaining tobacco, and save it.


    Rolling pure tobacco might only get them two or three cigarettes from a day''s worth of butts, but adding some filler allowed them to stretch it to a pack.


    Just as the wealthy indulged in their extravagances, those at the bottom of society had their own survival tactics. After many experiments, most workers settled on dried vine gourd and orange peel as the best fillers. As for Graf''s addition of straw and chili powder, that was just his personal quirk.


    Seeing the earnest look in Graf''s eyes and his hopeful expression, Julian forced himself to take another puff. "Not bad! Really good!" he said, coughing again, which made Graf burst into laughter.


    Julian could tell that Graf wasn''t mocking him. He was genuinely enjoying the moment. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Just then, the distant whistle of a steam locomotive sounded, and the workers started gathering their tools, preparing to unload the cargo.


    When the locomotive arrived, Julian realized that a "standard load" didn''t refer to a single package, sack, or box but to an enormous amount of goods. From what he remembered in his dreams, it was about four cubic meters. It made sense. If a single trip earned two cents, the station would be overrun with workers if the loads were any smaller.


    Graf handed Julian a pair of ropes tied at both ends, helping him loop them through his arms and over his shoulders, forming an X on his back. "If you just rely on brute strength, you''ll wear yourself out after five or six trips. Use these ropes to secure the corners of the box, so you can use your whole body''s strength. It''s easier on you and won''t hurt your body.


    We''ve got plenty of work ahead, brother!"

 Chapter 7 - 7 Blood Oath

    The morning shift was relatively easy since there weren''t many steam locomotives running through the night. It wasn''t until the afternoon that Julian truly felt the exhaustion. Locomotives arrived one after another, and Mr. Kreen emerged from his office, shouting orders at the workers and directing them.


    The work kept them busy from just after one o''clock until seven in the evening, when they finally had a moment to catch their breath.


    Julian sat at the dinner table, his arms trembling, unable to even make a fist. With shaking hands, he held a piece of bread and sipped the meat soup in front of him.


    Today, he''d earned twelve cents according to the workers. If this pace continued, he could make five dollars and ten cents by the end of the month¡ªa decent amount for a newcomer.


    Graf walked over, holding a bowl of meat soup and a few pieces of bread. He sat next to Julian, tearing into the bread with large bites and speaking through a mouthful. "Don''t bathe tonight. Just take off your clothes and sleep. Don''t do anything else, or you won''t be able to move tomorrow."


    Julian trusted the advice of experienced people, and Graf''s suggestion wasn''t unreasonable. Without much thought, Julian decided to follow it and raised a question.


    "Mr. Kreen told me the union people would come to see me in a few days and that I shouldn''t join. Should I?" sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Graf''s face immediately showed a look of disdain. He glanced up at the lit window on the second floor, let out a cold chuckle, and said, "Don''t listen to that liar. If we don''t join the union, who''s going to protect the rights of us workers at the bottom? He just wants to take advantage of you. Besides, is the fifty-cent membership fee really that expensive?"


    Julian nodded, finishing his broth. As he dug around the bottom of the bowl, he found a small chunk of meat, savoring it as if it were a delicacy.


    "I understand."


    Julian used to think his family''s full house in the middle of nowhere was the worst living situation possible. Sharing a cramped room with his six brothers, each night they''d collapse into bed after long days working in the fields, so tired that they fell asleep immediately, stale with sweat and the odor of dirty feet.


    But now, as he sat in a tiny, cramped 30-square-meter room with twenty other men, Julian realized things could indeed be much worse. The experience was uncomfortable, but the exhaustion from the day''s work made sleep come quickly.


    The next morning, he threw off the blanket and got ready for the day. There was no room for grooming, so he followed the others to the railway platform for another day of labor. The cargo was familiar¡ªmassive crates, all clinking softly with the sound of glass.


    "What''s in these, Graf?" Julian grunted as he heaved another crate onto his shoulder. "Feels like water."


    Graf gave a sly grin. "Water? No, my friend. That''s liquid gold. We''re moving money." Leaning in closer, he whispered, "It''s high-proof alcohol. But don''t go shouting about it."


    Julian''s eyes widened in surprise.


    The Empire had strict prohibition laws on the production, transportation, and sale of alcohol. Grain spirits couldn''t exceed 9% alcohol, and wine no more than 13%. Anything stronger was illegal and had to be destroyed. The punishment for making, transporting, or selling distilled spirits was severe, born out of a belief that strong alcohol created demons.


    The law was established after the Empire''s third prince drank himself to death¡ªsome claimed he vomited black bile right before he passed away.


    At that time, all production and sale of undiluted spirits were banned. But as Julian had just realized, prohibition only made alcohol more lucrative. In a post-war empire where many sought an escape, the demand for hard liquor soared. Despite the law, underground production and transport of moonshine created enormous profits for those daring enough to take the risk.


    As Julian continued hauling crates, his mind wandered. From what he''d learned in his dreams, alcohol could be distilled to produce high-proof liquor. He didn''t know what the local "white liquor" tasted like, but he had no doubt it was potent.


    Later, during lunch, Julian caught up to Graf on their way to the cafeteria by the rails. Glancing around to make sure no one was listening, he asked, "Graf, aren''t we brothers?"


    Graf puffed out his chest proudly. "Of course, brother!"


    "Good. So, tell me¡ªhow much do you think a bottle of that high-proof alcohol is worth? From the batch we loaded this morning."


    Graf''s gaze narrowed with suspicion. He studied Julian carefully. Graf might have looked like a brute, but he knew when to be cautious. "Why? You thinking about buying one? Kid, your paycheck for the whole month won''t even cover one bottle."


    Julian''s jaw dropped. A whole month''s wages? Just when he''d started to believe his hard work would at least earn him five dollars by the end of the month, learning that a single bottle of whiskey would cost him that much filled him with frustration. His fingers trembled with a sudden eagerness as he saw the possibility of earning more money.


    Noticing the look on Julian''s face, Graf asked, "What''s going on in that head of yours?"


    Julian snapped out of his thoughts, playing it cool. "I''m fine. Never felt better!" he laughed.


    Leaning in again, he asked, "What about low-proof alcohol? How much does that go for?"


    Graf glanced around cautiously before replying, "Listen, if you''re thinking of buying high proof stuff and then diluting it, save your money. Don''t even bother."


    Julian''s expression shifted through a range of emotions before he sighed deeply. "Can I trust you?"


    In response, Graf pulled a small knife from his back pocket, startling Julian enough that he almost backed away. But Graf calmly cut his own palm, letting blood drip down his hand. "This is a Guar tradition," he said, grabbing Julian''s hand and making a small cut. "We''re brothers now. This blood oath is sacred. If either of us breaks it, the gods will punish us."


    Julian watched in awe as they clasped bloody hands. For a long moment, he said nothing, lost in thought. Finally, growing impatient, Graf nudged him. "What are you thinking?"


    Julian looked up, dead serious. "My hand''s numb. Am I going to die?"


    Graf rolled his eyes. "Don''t worry. Worst case scenario, you lose a hand."

 Chapter 8 - 8 High Stakes Ventures

    "Still not out yet?" Graf''s eyes were bloodshot, a sign of the immense stress he was under. For him, this was no less than a high-stakes gamble, one that risked his entire fortune.


    He was one of the few porters at the station who could actually make a decent living, earning about eleven to twelve dollars a month, thanks to his speed and efficiency. If the number of porters were reduced, his earnings would increase even more.


    Under Julian''s detailed explanation, he had put forth all his savings¡ªforty-one dollars¡ªas the "startup capital" for their business. According to their agreement, if they successfully transformed low-proof alcohol into high-proof alcohol, Graf would take forty percent of the profits from selling the high-proof alcohol.


    Julian had no objection to this; he had originally planned to give Graf fifty percent of the profit.


    But when Graf immediately asked for ten percent less, Julian, no fool, knew better than to argue further.


    With Graf''s forty-one dollars, Julian quickly gathered everything needed from memory. A small metal bucket to boil the low-proof alcohol, a lid with a pipe attached. The pipe ran through another bucket filled with water, and at the end of it, a glass basin was placed to catch the liquid. The setup didn''t cost much, just four dollars and fifty cents in total.


    If not for the need to have a blacksmith attach a pipe to the lid and seal the gaps between the wooden barrel and the pipe, it would have cost only three dollars and seventy-eight cents.


    The real money was spent on the boxes of low-proof alcohol, some sugar, glass bottles, and the house they were using¡ªall of which consumed a large portion of their startup capital and couldn''t be avoided.


    They both took two days off and spent all their time in the small room. Graf, ever cautious, had covered all the windows and doors with curtains, which turned out to be a terrible idea as the room began to stink.


    As the low-proof alcohol in the small metal pot began to bubble, Julian weighed down the lid with some stones and reached out to touch the pipe, only to pull back quickly¡ªit was hot. The moment the first drop of liquid dripped from the other end of the pipe, Graf was immediately on alert, carefully watching the process. More liquid began to drip, faster and faster.


    Graf dipped his trembling hand into the liquid at the bottom of the basin and brought it to his mouth.


    Julian swallowed dryly, his throat burning from tension. He had given it his all for the past two days, and now his heartbeat thumped loudly in his chest. If they succeeded, all would be well, but if they failed, he would feel guilty¡ªGraf had risked everything for this!


    When he saw Graf close his eyes, his features scrunched up, and his whole body began to tremble, Julian''s mind went blank. Had they failed? He sighed in defeat, ready to extinguish the flame, when Graf suddenly shouted, "It''s good!"


    Overjoyed, Graf expressed his excitement, almost unable to contain his relief. Before meeting Julian, he had no idea that cheap, low-proof alcohol could be turned into expensive, high-proof alcohol. If he had known this earlier, would he still be working as a porter at the station?


    Both of them shared a look, their eyes gleaming with the excitement of success. Without needing words, they broke into a shared burst of laughter, the tension and joy of the moment finally spilling over. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Their laughter didn''t last long, as a loud dong dong dong came from upstairs, accompanied by the shrill voice of a woman yelling, "Are you going to keep everyone up? You jobless idiots will never escape this shithole, let us who have work in the morning have some sleep!"


    They both froze, stifling their laughter, but neither felt any displeasure from the woman''s complaints and curses. They turned back to the simple distillation equipment, staring at the small bowl of amber liquid emitting a not so pleasant odor, yet both were utterly captivated. This wasn''t just high proof alcohol; this was money!


    Julian''s heart raced even faster, his mouth dry. He knew they had broken imperial law, but for some reason, he felt no fear. Instead, he was filled with exhilaration, a sense of excitement! If it weren''t for the need to keep a low profile, he would have thrown open the windows and sung aloud to release his joy.


    "How long do we keep distilling?" Graf asked, tilting his head as he noticed the liquid dripping from the pipe slowing down.


    Julian wasn''t sure. He hesitated for a moment before suggesting, "Maybe we should stop for now and see how much we''ve bottled." As soon as he said this, the two of them set to work, pouring the liquid from the basin into their prepared bottles. Staring at two full bottles and one three-quarters full, their excitement faded, replaced by deep suspicion.


    They had used three bottles of low-proof alcohol for this experiment, but somehow ended up with nearly three bottles of high-proof alcohol. The more they thought about it, the more it didn''t seem right.


    Graf grabbed the half-filled bottle and took a swig, only to spit it out immediately. "Ugh, why is it so bitter? The taste is off, and the alcohol content isn''t even high!"


    Julian quickly opened the small metal pot and found a layer of burnt, yellowish, sticky substance bubbling at the bottom. Using a small stick, he poked it, blew on it, and tasted it. A strong flavor of sweetness and bitterness hit him, making his head throb.


    He slapped his forehead as he realized that the first liquid they had collected was indeed high-proof alcohol, but after that, water had started evaporating, leaving behind the non-evaporative substances.


    Like the sugars and spices in the alcohol.


    Now that they understood what had happened, the next steps were much clearer. Julian scraped out the burnt residue from the small pot, poured the low-proof alcohol back in, and distilled it again. When about a bottle''s worth of liquid had been collected, he switched to a new container. This time, when they tasted the liquid in the basin, it was not only bitter but also very strong.


    Julian slowly added the burnt syrup-like residue back in, adjusting the taste until Graf declared it perfect.


    "I think we can start selling now!" Graf couldn''t resist taking another sip. Lord knows, he had never enjoyed high-proof alcohol as much as this. The fiery liquid filled his stomach, but what rose was a warm sensation. He loved the burning taste, much like how he liked adding chili powder to his cigarettes.


    Julian, however, was more cautious. "We should investigate the market, check the prices and flavors of the most popular high-proof alcohol, and then improve our product to make it stand out. That way, we can build a better reputation and value for ourselves."


    Graf, already a bit tipsy, scratched his ear with his pinky and asked, "Does that mean we''ll make more money?"


    Julian nodded firmly, "Yes, we''ll make a lot more money!"


    Graf laughed loudly, his voice filled with excitement and anticipation. They both knew they were onto something big, but they also understood there was a long way to go.


    But soon, they faced another problem¡ªthey were out of money!


    Graf''s suggestion was to take the distilled alcohol they had and sell it for some quick cash, then use that money to buy and sample other high-proof alcohol on the market. But Julian had a different idea. Jumping into an illegal business without proper preparation wasn''t something a smart person would do¡ªit was likely to cause unnecessary attention.


    And building a profitable operation would take time and careful planning.


    So, the two returned to the station, waiting for the end of the month and their next paycheck.

 Chapter 9 - 9 Encounter With The Union

    "Julian!" Mr. Kreen called out from the second-floor hallway outside his office. When Julian turned to look at him, Kreen nodded toward a nearby meeting room and said, "Come up here for a moment." sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian set down his work and glanced at Graf, who had just finished unloading some cargo. Graf patted his shoulder lightly and said, "Don''t worry. If nothing unexpected happens, it''s probably the union reps."


    Even though Graf saw dealing with the union as a trivial matter, Julian, facing the union for the first time, couldn''t help but let the nervousness show in his stiffened smile. He slapped his cheeks gently and took a deep breath, "Don''t worry, I won''t be nervous."


    Graf shrugged. This was something Julian would have to handle on his own; there wasn''t much Graf could do to ease his tension.


    Unions were an essential support system for workers. Most of the time, workers didn''t need them, but when they did, unions could make all the difference. Especially when dealing with capitalists. Without union support, workers were often at a disadvantage, particularly when it came to wages.


    Greedy capitalists always sought to exploit workers to save costs, but thanks to the union and the Minimum Wage Protection Act, they couldn''t go too far in their exploitation.


    When workers rights were infringed upon, unions would step in to fight for them.


    A renowned sociologist of the Empire, who was also a prominent capitalist, once said in a newspaper: "If a single worker is a rabbit, then a group of workers is a pack of hounds. We can shear the rabbit for profit, but we must avoid the hounds to protect ourselves."


    This statement caused a huge uproar in society and led to a large-scale protest, condemning the sociologist''s inappropriate remarks. Under immense pressure, the sociologist had to publish an apology in the newspaper. The matter should have ended there, but unfortunately, the man couldn''t help himself and later commented, "I''ve lost to the hounds!"


    This enraged the workers even more, and they ended up assaulting the sociologist, stripping him of his clothes, and tying him to the railing outside the third-floor platform of the Imperial Building, causing a national scandal...


    Julian straightened his clothes, knocked on the meeting room door, and, hearing a "come in," pushed it open.


    Three people were seated at the conference table: two men and one woman. The woman appeared to be in her thirties, dressed in an elegant suit, though her facial features were somewhat sharp, lacking the usual softness of a woman. The two men were also impeccably dressed, with their hair slicked down so smoothly that not even a fly could land on it.


    Julian smiled awkwardly and glanced outside the door, making sure he hadn''t entered the wrong room.


    But the three in front of him¡­ if they were worker representatives, Julian found that hard to believe.


    If workers dressed like this, then the working class must be wealthy indeed.


    The older man smiled and nodded at Julian, then glanced through the documents on the table before asking, "You''re Julian, right?" Then, quickly realizing his omission, he added, "Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I''m Frank, a representative of the Workers'' Union. This gentleman next to me is Abdul, who holds the same position as I do. As for this lady¡­"


    When Frank looked at the woman, she gave Julian a curt nod, her expression unchanged. "I''m Selina, the legal advisor for the Workers'' Union."


    Frank picked up the conversation again, "We''re here today on behalf of the Workers Union to invite you to join. The Workers'' Union is a family for the working class. In the face of the capitalist''s ruthless exploitation, we can only protect and fight for our rights by standing together."


    At that moment, Selina interrupted, "Pardon me for cutting in," she said, pointing her pen at Julian''s right hand. "I noticed your right hand is bandaged, and there''s still some blood on it. Is this an injury you sustained while working here?"


    Julian was caught off guard and froze for a moment before answering, "Ah? Oh! Yes, I got hurt recently."


    Selina nodded slightly, though it wasn''t clear what exactly that gesture meant. "After you were injured, did Mr. Kreen, the station manager, take you for treatment, cover your medical expenses, and offer you compensation for the injury?"


    Julian scratched his head. "This was my own fault, nothing to do with Mr. Kreen."


    Selina abruptly stood up and slammed her pen down on the table, her expression becoming even more serious. "No, young man, you''re mistaken. Whether it was your fault or not, as long as you were injured while working, it''s classified as a workplace injury."


    Frank, seeing Julian''s growing tension, stood up, walked over, and motioned for him to sit down. "Don''t worry. What we''re doing is not for personal gain, and this is exactly what shows the power of the union in protecting our rights."


    Not long after, Abdul entered the meeting room with Mr. Kreen. Faced with Selina, who was a well-known lawyer within the union, Kreen greeted her first, "Hello, Ms. Selina."


    Selina remained stern and unmoved. Only after Kreen had taken a seat did she ask, "Mr. Kreen, are you aware of Julian''s injury that occurred while he was working?"


    Kreen was taken aback. He truly didn''t know. As the station manager, he had many responsibilities to manage daily and didn''t have the time to check on every worker''s well being. Since Julian hadn''t mentioned it, Kreen had no idea. This left him in a difficult position.


    He glanced at Julian''s bandaged hand, feeling a twinge of discomfort. As a manager and exploiter, he hated dealing with union representatives because they always managed to come up with some absurd reason to make capitalists like him fork over money for no apparent reason.


    Kreen shook his head and answered truthfully, "I didn''t know. Julian never told me, and I wasn''t aware of it."


    "And do you know the consequences you face as an employer when a worker is injured on the job?" Selina asked, flipping open her notebook and writing something down casually before looking back at Kreen. "For instance, covering medical expenses, providing nutritional supplements, and offering paid leave?"


    Kreen fell silent. Not only did he know, but he knew very well. Injuries among the porters at the station were common. Some workers, even when exhausted, would push themselves to the limit, unwilling to miss out on the commission, only to end up hurting themselves. Whenever that happened, Kreen would have to step in with money to settle things. Usually, it wasn''t a huge amount.


    For something like Julian''s hand injury, medical costs would amount to around three dollars, and the nutrition and compensation wouldn''t exceed six dollars in total.


    But six dollars was still money, and these union people had shown up at the worst possible time. If they had come a few days later, none of this would have been an issue.


    Selina''s voice suddenly rose. "What''s wrong, Mr. Kreen? Are you unwilling to pay these costs? If that''s the case, we might have to file a lawsuit in Ternell city court."


    Kreen immediately raised his hand. "No, no, I''ll pay. Six dollars, right? I''ll give him time off tomorrow!"


    He backed down immediately. It wasn''t worth going to court over six dollars, especially since hiring a lawyer would cost at least ten. It was better to just pay the six dollars and avoid the hassle. He quickly agreed to cover the expenses and give Julian three days off, which instantly quieted Selina.


    After Abdul escorted Kreen out of the room, Frank smiled and said, "See? That''s the power of the union! One of our main reasons for coming here today was to invite you to join the Workers'' Union. Once you''re a member, you''ll enjoy many benefits and protections. Today''s situation was just a small example of what we can do.


    The best part is, no matter what happens, any legal fees required to defend your rights will be covered by the union. You won''t have to pay a cent."


    "Of course, to enjoy these benefits, you''ll also need to contribute. That includes an annual membership fee of fifty cents, participating in union activities when necessary, and following the guidance on work-related matters. If you can agree to these three conditions, I''ll officially welcome you into the Workers'' Union."


    Julian found these terms reasonable, especially after hearing the benefits from Graf earlier, so he quickly agreed. Later, Mr. Kreen brought the six dollars, and Julian took fifty cents out of it to pay Frank as his annual union fee.


    Frank told him he should visit the Ternell City Workers'' Union headquarters within a week to register and have his information recorded in the national database.


    When Julian returned to the platform, Graf came over and asked, "How was it? Not so scary, right?"


    Julian nodded. "You were right. They''re good people. They even got me six dollars from Mr. Kreen."


    "Six dollars?" Graf glanced at Julian''s bandaged hand and slapped his forehead. "Wait here a minute. Mr. Kreen owes me six dollars too!"

 Chapter 10 - 10 Brewing a New Plan

    Julian''s initial reluctance soon faded away. Frank seemed genuine, and everything Graf had mentioned about the union rang true. Without further hesitation, Julian agreed to join. Frank took the fifty-cent membership fee, officially inducting him into the Workers Union, with the promise that his name would be registered with union headquarters by the end of the week.


    Julian returned to the platform, where Graf quickly approached him. "How''d it go? Not too bad, right?"


    Julian smiled and nodded. "You were right. They got me six dollars from Mr. Kreen."


    Graf''s eyes widened in disbelief. "Six dollars?" His gaze shifted to Julian''s bandaged hand, and then, as if a light bulb had gone off, he slapped his forehead. "Wait here¡ªI''m getting my six dollars from Mr. Kreen too!"


    Mr. Kreen''s face twisted in disbelief, as though he''d just witnessed the most upsetting event of his life. Already in a foul mood after losing six dollars to the union over a supposed work injury, he had spent the entire morning cursing them in his office. So, when Graf burst in, drenched in sweat and shoving his bandaged hand in Kreen''s face, demanding compensation, it was more than he could handle.


    Graf was caught off guard when Kreen didn''t put up a fight. Without a word of protest, Kreen nearly threw six dollars at him and practically shoved him out the door. The union had shaken him so much that he seemed completely uninterested in arguing any further.


    Julian and Graf, still shocked by their sudden windfall, decided to advance their plans for "market research." They had intended to save for an entire month, but now, with the unexpected cash in hand, they put on their best clothes and headed straight for the pubs.


    In the wake of the post-war economic collapse and the lingering psychological trauma, people were desperately seeking outlets. Aside from women, high-proof alcohol became the most popular escape. Every pub was stocked with different liquors, sold in various states of dilution.


    Graf led Julian into a bar called "The Workers'' Friend." The bouncer, a hulking figure, gave them a once-over before letting them pass through the narrow, dark entrance. Inside, the stench¡ªthick with sweat and vomit¡ªnearly made Julian gag.


    As soon as Graf entered, the bartender recognized him. Graf had clearly become a familiar face. "What''ll it be today? Red berry wine?"


    Red berry wine, the cheapest option for the working class, was little more than fermented fruit, sometimes tasting sour from overripe berries. It cost about eleven or twelve cents a glass, just cheap enough for most to overlook its unpleasant taste.


    But today, Graf had different plans. Leaning forward, he spoke in a hushed voice, "A glass of ''Golden Sunshine'' and one ''Lady in a Skirt,'' please."


    The bartender raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. Graf and Julian were just laborers, and neither should have the luxury to afford these mid-range, high-proof drinks. Still, without question, the bartender turned to prepare their order. Everyone knew that the bar''s owner had connections with local gangs, and no one dared refuse payment.


    The drinks arrived¡ªtwo square glasses, just over half full. One glowed with a golden hue, reminiscent of champagne, while the other was a deep orange. The bartender leaned in, his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, and said, "That''ll be five dollars."


    Graf slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter without a word. The bartender pocketed it swiftly.


    Graf''s excitement was barely contained. "Let''s go," he said, lifting his glass. He took a long swallow, closing his eyes with satisfaction before letting out a contented sigh. "Just perfect." He pushed the glass towards Julian. "Your turn."


    Julian took the glass cautiously, savoring a small sip. The moment the liquid hit his tongue, a fiery warmth spread down his throat, but the sweetness quickly followed, balancing the burn.


    "This is rich," Julian said, licking his lips. "Strong, but sweet... and is that a hint of wood?"


    Graf grinned. "That''s dragon''s bloodwood. It''s the secret to high-proof alcohol around here. Without it, you can''t make the strong stuff. No one knows exactly why, but that''s what people say."


    Julian found it fascinating. In this world, high-proof alcohol wasn''t made through distillation like in his dreams. Instead, they enhanced weaker spirits by running them through dragon''s bloodwood, a material that had become essential to the local liquor industry.


    He then tried the "Lady in a Skirt." While it had a slight bitterness, it only added complexity to the drink, giving it depth. Julian found it even more enjoyable than the "Golden Sunshine." There was a subtle sweetness that lingered, like the bittersweet memory of a happy goodbye.


    After finishing their drinks, they left the bar and returned to their rented room. Without wasting any time, they pulled out their homemade moonshine, eager to compare it against the drinks they had just tried.


    They added syrup to their moonshine to cut the bitterness, but it still couldn''t match the smoothness of "Golden Sunshine" or "Lady in a Skirt." The alcohol content was there, but the taste was rough, It lacked the refinement and polish of the more expensive drinks.


    Golden Light and Lady in the Skirt cost two dollars fifty a glass, and their homemade liquor would maybe go for one dollar fifty at most. The difference of one dollar per glass became a gap three times as wide when extrapolated to the cost of an entire bottle.


    "What now?" Graf asked, grimacing as he choked down the liquid. He was red faced from the booze. "We need a new plan."


    Julian, recalling concepts of distillation that had come to him in a dream, pondered how it could be done with the tools at their disposal. He paused for a moment before offering, "I have two thoughts."


    Graf''s eyes lit up. "Let''s hear them!"


    "First, we could age the hooch in casks carved from dragonblood wood. If we hold it in the casks for a few months, it could significantly gain flavor."


    "Second, we could infuse the vodka with fruit or berries to create a high proof fruit wine around 20% ABV. It would make it taste smoother and richer."


    Graf shook his head before Julian could finish. "The first idea''s out! I''m not waiting a year. But that second one¡ªyeah, it''s much quicker. Let''s start with that and worry about aging later."


    Julian nodded. They had just taken the first baby step into high proof alcohol. All that remained was execution. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 11 - 11 Into The High-Proof Alcohol Market

    "Graf, I want to know what you are doing. This is the station. As long as you''re here, you must follow our agreement and do your job properly!" Mr. Kreen loosened his tie and placed a cup of coffee in front of Graf.


    Recently, Mr. Kreen noticed that Graf''s performance had plummeted to less than a third of what it used to be. He had even been absent during the busiest times in the afternoon!


    That was something no capitalist could tolerate. They pay you to work as if your life depends on it, not to provide charity. The station gave these workers enough food and almost enough rest time every day. They could even take a few days off each month, as long as it was during less busy periods. Mr. Kreen felt that he had already been patient and tolerant enough with these bottom-tier workers.


    They should be weeping with gratitude for the life he granted them, not thinking about slacking off!


    If it weren''t for Graf''s high standing and reputation at the station, Mr. Kreen might have already invoked certain clauses in their contract to punish this damn guy.


    Graf, with a blank expression, raised the cup of coffee and downed it like water. After smacking his lips, he said something that nearly made Mr. Kreen jump out of his seat. "This stuff is really bitter, like burnt pot scrapings mixed with water, even the color matches."


    Thirty bucks per pound for coffee beans from the southern empire, and this guy compared it to burnt pot and water?


    Mr. Kreen frowned but hid his displeasure. A Barbarian countryman would always be a Barbarian countryman. Even living in the city, they couldn''t shake their rural ignorance and stupidity. This thought made Kreen''s frustration lessen as he looked at Graf like a gorilla he might see at the zoo with his kids, feeling a sense of superiority rise from within.


    "Am I seriously discussing coffee with a gorilla?"


    He even chuckled, filled with disdain and contempt.


    He sat down in his comfortable chair behind the desk and took a sip of the rich, aromatic coffee. The bitterness quickly melted into a warmth that spread through him. The lingering aftertaste made every cell in his body seem to relax and breathe freely, craving the next sip. Satisfied, he nodded. Thirty bucks a pound was worth every bit of the indulgence.


    Sighing, he spoke earnestly, "Graf, I know you have just over a month left on your contract, but you need to understand that even if you''re free tomorrow, today you''re still a station employee. You can''t ignore our work rules, and what you''re doing sets a bad example for others."


    Graf nodded as he walked to the coffee pot with his cup, hesitating for a moment before choosing a larger glass¡ªa square one typically used for liquor. He poured all the coffee into it. "I understand, sir. Don''t worry, I''ll follow the rules, and I won''t skip work again." He raised the large glass of "burnt water," sniffed it, and once again downed it in one gulp.


    "It''s still so bitter and doesn''t quench thirst at all. I really don''t know why anyone would like this stuff!" He lifted the empty glass, ignoring Mr. Kreen''s reddening face. "Thanks for the hospitality, sir. If there''s nothing else, I''ll get back to work." Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After patting his pants, he left Kreen''s office. Kreen, staring at the now empty coffee pot, clenched his fingers against the desk, sliding them down in frustration. He was losing it.


    Julian caught up with Graf outside the office. "What happened? Was Krian making things difficult for you?" Julian asked quietly.


    Graf wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and said, "Nah. Same ol'' same. He just told me not to skip work again, nothing more." He started to sound a bit indignant. "We skip work together, so why does he only give me a hard time and not you?"


    Julian chuckled and shrugged. "Maybe I just blend in better,"


    "Or maybe you''re worthless to the station," Graf grumbled, the annoyance dissipating quickly. "We''ve finished two cases. Should we start selling?"


    Two cases of twelve bottles each were stashed under their bed in their rented room. One case of "First Love," the sour fruit liquor, and one case of "Snow Elf." According to Julian, both would sell for the same price, with a target of ten bucks per bottle. Each bottle contained about 1.4 pints, roughly 750 milliliters.


    Their cost per bottle was around two and a half to three bucks. If sold at ten bucks each, their profit would be between six and seven bucks. When Julian calculated the profit, Graf''s eyes turned red. Heaven knows, he had never imagined selling high-proof alcohol could be this lucrative! A case of twelve bottles meant about eighty bucks in pure profit.


    With his forty percent share, Graf stood to make thirty bucks per case¡ªsixty bucks for both.


    That meant if they sold both cases, he could buy out his contract and have more time to make even more fruit liquor with Julian¡ªand make even more money.


    So whatever Mr. Kreen said, he just treated it like a loud fart!


    The two walked to a corner of the station, and Julian lowered his voice. "I''ll need you to handle the sales. I don''t know much about the city''s bars. Make sure to sell to different places, not just one person. We need more people to know about our product."


    "I got it!" Graf nodded quickly, excitedly waving his arms. "When should we go?"


    Julian glanced at the clock in the station warehouse. "Now, before the evening bar rush begins!"


    ...


    Gorn, a wealthy man living on the outskirts of Ternell City, managed two successful farms¡ªone for beef cattle, the other for dragonblood wood trees. His businesses had flourished, placing him among the prominent figures of the local upper class, though he remained just shy of the elite in larger cities.


    At thirty-seven, Gorn had aged well, his polished appearance and calm demeanor often drawing attention. Despite his success, he had never pursued intimate relationships, leaving others to speculate about his private life.


    But few knew the truth: Gorn had once loved deeply. Years ago, his family had sent her away to a wealthier city, and when he sought her out later, he found her married with children. Brokenhearted, Gorn buried himself in his work, climbing to his current status but never finding love again.


    One evening at the Wild Rose Bar, the bartender offered him two new drinks: "First Love" and "Snow Elf." Gorn sampled "First Love," and as its bittersweet taste hit his tongue, it stirred memories of the love he''d lost long ago.


    That night, Gorn sat in silence, his thoughts drifting to the past. Around him, others drank quietly, lost in their own reflections. As the evening wore on, the two new drinks became popular¡ª"Snow Elf" with its smooth sweetness, and "First Love" for the bittersweet taste of nostalgia it brought.

 Chapter 12 - 12 Fortunes Built On Breaking The Laws

    "We made it!" Graf, clutching a sheaf of bills and some coins in his hand with excitment.


    Graf was almost maniacal in his joy. A week ago, if you''d have told Graf you could earn that much in just one week by laying down forty dollars, no way he would have believed you. He''d laugh and then punch you out of sheer aggravation.


    Seeing this Julian smiled in relife.


    Just as he had contemplated...


    The dream he had of that extraordinary man''s life will allow him to climb up from nothing to stand on the top of the world just like that man had done in his world.


    Julian still remembred a moment from that dream that left a very deep impression on him.


    It was a moment where that extraordinary man opened a book named THE PENAL CODE OF CALIFORNIA and started reading it slowly before saying to himself, "All the most profitable businesses are right here in these pages."


    Maybe dream and reality differ¡ªbe it in setting, technology, or custom¡ªcertain principles remain immutable. The more something is banned, the bigger the risk. And yet with that risk comes unimaginable riches to those brave enough to take it.


    They had turned the $10 bill into $150 by the next day. It was a small price to pay to cross a few moral boundaries in return for The Star Empire money and a better lifestyle.


    "What''s the next step?" Graf asked, still in a state of excitement and delusion over what they had just done. His mind was reeling with the fortune that they had just grasped.


    Julian walked around the room as he thought about their next step. "Right now is when we expand the business and set up shop. But first, I need you to take care of some things."


    Graf thumped his chest with enthusiasm.


    "The first priority is to instruct the dem shopps we supplied that they only received a preliminary batch to test the market; and in a few days, we will start delivering the real one."


    Ternell City was close to the borders, an ever-expanding hub of smuggling operations. These ranged from large-scale to small-time operations, but for most people living there, the smuggling trade was entirely invisible. Julian planned to market his goods as smuggled items from other cities to avoid potential crackdowns on his business.


    As for supply, Julian had clear ideas. Although flooding the market with product might bring in fast money, it would never elevate the price consumers would pay for those goods. However, by limiting the supply they could make people think, ''This is rare and valuable!'' A classic ruse.


    Once its reputation has been established, the product will automatically raise its price as demand escalates¡ªa complicated project made simple by letting consumers do the work.


    "The second thing is to arrange a secure supply," Julian said. "If we always go to those people you know with a large quantities, they''ll surely figure out that we''ve developed a new style of distillation besides just dragon bloodwood. If this occurs¡ªthere will be two outcome for us to make: either we flee the Empire and become fugitives, or we die horribly."


    Julian continued, "Make contact with the foreign liquor distributors in Ternell. Send the product through them, but do it under the name of a trading company you own. And don''t make any final decisions without consulting me first. This is a very profitable business, but also a dangerous one¡ªonly those who survive get to enjoy the profit."


    Strong spirits, within the Star Empire, was a lucrative trade. But it wasn''t really a business for just anyone to get his foot in: only those powerful families who bore down with their soul on anything inside were sure of continuing rich profits this way.


    There was one night when Graf Wintnessed a gang of extortionists visited a drug smuggler at home. The ringleader was surrounded by bodyguards carrying crackers (M-80s) and guns. When he remembered that, Graf broke out in a cold sweat.


    That was all it took¡ªGraf could see he was nothing more than a speck in this world of shadows compared to those people who had sold their souls to a cause and are willing to trample on anything in their way.


    Julian appreciated Graf. On the one hand, he had the guts to take chances and was no fool; on the other hand, he was clever enough not to tread beyond what he could handle. He knew when he had to rely on his judgment and when orders had to be obeyed to the letter. If he had been reckless, Julian would have vanished without a trace long ago.


    Of course, if things went south, Julian wouldn''t mind getting rid of Graf first.


    After all, the value hidden in distillation was enough to make every corporation in the world tremble. It wasn''t just a way to get rich¡ªit was a knife that could take his life at any moment!


    After assigning Graf his tasks, Julian set off to handle his own. His mission was simple: register a trademark and a trading company.


    In his plan, low-proof alcohol should be imported from abroad. Although the price might increase by about 10 to 15 percent, it wouldn''t come close to cutting into their profits. Importing low-proof alcohol would prevent local brewers and distillers from noticing the large-scale influx of liquor being converted into high-proof alcohol.


    In the early stages of any technological monopoly, the key was to keep a low profile. Only after amassing enough capital could you sit at the same table as the big players and take risks openly.


    After sending Graf on his way, Julian headed to the Ternell branch of The Star Empire Chamber of Commerce with ten bucks in hand. In this world, all sorts of organizations handled functions that would typically be the government''s responsibility.


    The Star Empire had only just emerged from war, and if the government wanted to take over some of the union''s work, it would require vast manpower and resources¡ªsomething they simply couldn''t afford. Additionally, the Empire realized that their outdated political and military systems were holding them back, so during this period of reform, social instability had already begun.


    If they hastily tried to reclaim power from these civilian organizations, it could lead to unrest, and the weakened Empire couldn''t afford a major conflict or civil war at such a fragile time.


    So, for now, the Empire appeased the unions and assured them their piece of the pie was safe. At the same time, they were learning from the unions, preparing for the day they could reclaim control.


    Thus, commercial activities like company registration and trademark filing were entirely managed by the Empire Chamber of Commerce, with no involvement from the official government.


    And because businessmen ran the Chamber, there was nothing money couldn''t solve.


    For instance... buying a permit. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After spending two bucks to register a trademark and four bucks to register a company, Julian slipped the remaining money into the hands of the officer. The stiff, businesslike expression on the well-dressed, slick-haired man melted into a genuine smile.


    "Sir, if you''re looking to purchase a distillery license, the minimum cost is five thousand Dollar," the clerk, swayed by four bucks, decided to bend the rules. After all, it was ten days'' wages, not a small sum. All he had to do was smile. "As you may know, many distilleries violate canon law and Empire law by secretly brewing high-proof liquor.


    Cardinal Greem is very displeased with this, and under his pressure, the issuance of distillery licenses has become extremely strict."


    He explained that five thousand Dollar were needed to obtain a legal license because canon law forbade the faithful from drinking. Under this pressure, the Chamber''s board had decided to tighten control over distillery licenses to appease the church.


    However, they left a loophole: with a five thousand Dollar deposit, the license could still be granted. If an inspection revealed illegal distilling, or if there was a report, the deposit would be confiscated, and the distillery would be penalized.


    After learning the process for acquiring a license, Julian thanked the now friendly clerk before leaving the Ternell branch.


    His priority now was to earn enough money to get that license.


    As for importing low-proof alcohol from abroad, that would be the easy part.


    In these times, with enough money, you could buy anything¡ªincluding people.

 Chapter 13 - 13 Gaining Popularity

    "Only twenty cases a month?"


    The owner of the Wild Rose Bar, Mr. Colt, frowned. When Graf first approached him to promote a new high-proof fruit liquor, Colt wasn''t interested. The market for high-proof liquor had long been stable, with each customer having their preferred drink. Introducing a new product into this well-established market was likely to fail.


    However, after Graf poured him two small glasses to taste, Colt immediately saw potential.


    The Wild Rose Bar catered to a mid-to-high-end clientele, primarily the middle-class families of Ternell city. These patrons didn''t come to get drunk daily, but they could certainly afford to enjoy a drink every few days. At this level, customers weren''t just consuming a product¡ªthey were indulging their tastes and preferences, only buying things they truly appreciated.


    The flavors of the two liquors were unique. From the first sip, Colt had a feeling they could carve out a niche in the market. And to his surprise, both First Love and Snow Elf were met with great acclaim. Many men favored First Love, while younger women took to Snow Elf. In just two days, all six bottles that had been delivered were sold out.


    Some regular customers even complained about the bar for running out of these new drinks so quickly. It was a microcosm of society¡ªColt''s bar had unexpectedly stumbled upon a sensation. This newfound success sparked a deep ambition within him. If these new high-proof fruit liquors could capture the market in Ternell, why not in other cities?


    And if they could prove their appeal elsewhere, why shouldn''t he become the sole distributor?


    The lucrative nature of the high-proof alcohol trade was well-known¡ªafter all, the saying "the closer you are to breaking the law, the fuller your pockets" had become ingrained in people''s minds. If he could negotiate the right terms, even a modest two-dollar profit per bottle could turn him into a rising star in the Empire Chamber of Commerce.


    According to his sources, the empire consumed over a hundred million bottles of high-proof liquor each year. If he could capture just one percent of that market¡ªaround one million bottles¡ªhe could see a gross profit of two million in a year!


    This would dwarf his earnings from running a bar in a backwater place like Ternell. More importantly, he could use these two fruit liquors to build a brand, expanding his business empire and selling even more products for greater profits. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The thought of walking tall into the upper echelons of the Star Empire filled Colt with such excitement that he couldn''t sleep a wink.


    But Graf''s next words were like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head in the dead of winter.


    The supply couldn''t keep up. One bar would only receive twenty cases a month, amounting to just 240 bottles, dashing all of Colt''s aspirations and dreams.


    "Is it a production issue, or is it a transportation problem?" Colt tore at his uncomfortable necktie. "I don''t care whether you produce the liquor yourselves or source it from somewhere else. What I''m asking is, if I support you with a large investment, can I secure more supply?"


    Graf hesitated. Of course, it sounded like a great opportunity¡ªgetting financial backing to grow the business without any strings attached. But Julian was the one in charge, and Graf knew he wasn''t smart enough to make such decisions on his own. He shook his head apologetically, "I''m sorry, sir. I need to discuss this with my partner."


    Mr. Colt, ever observant, caught the word "partner," realizing Graf wasn''t the one calling the shots. He had already investigated Graf¡ªaside from his strong physique and being a good fighter, Graf didn''t have any special talents.


    Well, unless being helpful and generous counted as a talent.


    It was precisely Graf''s helpful nature that earned him a certain level of fame and respect within the Guar community in Ternell. People often sought his help when they were in trouble, and he was known to lend a hand. A few years ago, Graf had beaten a gang member so badly during a dispute between a Guar merchant and a local gang that the guy was left incapacitated.


    Graf had to pay a hefty fine and even spent six months in jail.


    If someone hadn''t covered the compensation and bailed him out, Graf might still be sewing sacks in prison.


    A small-time guy like Graf suddenly managing to supply such high-quality liquor? It clearly wasn''t his doing. Nor did it belong to the Guar merchant. If that guy had wanted to enter the high-proof liquor business, he wouldn''t have done it this way.


    So who was Graf''s partner?


    As Colt pondered this, he watched Graf closely.


    People always said even fools could stumble upon gold, and though Colt had never believed it, he was starting to reconsider. If this business grew, Graf would certainly benefit a great deal. Lucky fool!


    After a moment, Graf, feeling awkward under Colt''s intense gaze, shifted uncomfortably on the couch, which made an unpleasant noise. Colt finally stood up, smiling. "Alright, then. Go talk to your partner. If he''s on board, I''m willing to invest ten thousand dollars to help you scale up production. This could be a big business, and I want to be a part of it."


    Graf hurriedly stood up, grinning foolishly and nodding. He tried to imitate the dignified mannerisms of the upper class, but his attempt only came off as comical.


    Barely a minute after Graf left, Colt called one of his men over. "Follow him, but don''t let him notice. I want to know who he''s been spending time with over the next few days."


    After watching his man leave, Colt sank back into the couch, his eyes gleaming with ambition.


    That day, Graf visited the other bars that were buying from him, wearing his usual smile and offering polite words. Without exception, all the bar owners were eager for larger orders of the new high-proof fruit liquors. As one of them put it, this new liquor filled a gap in the high-proof alcohol market for a fruity option. It had enormous potential.


    In addition to some honest bar owners who just wanted more stock, two others shared the same thoughts as Colt: they wanted to become distributors for these two fruit liquors and sell them nationwide.


    After grabbing a quick meal at a roadside deli¡ªfive beef ribs, two cups of low-proof liquor, and four whole-wheat rolls¡ªGraf patted his comfortably full stomach and left, belching contentedly as he stepped out onto the street. Around the corner, a figure peeked out, glaring resentfully at Graf as he walked away, then quietly followed.


    Back at the workshop, Graf pulled Julian aside and relayed everything that had happened that day. Julian listened carefully and nodded, his trust in Graf growing. Not because Graf reported everything in detail, but because he hadn''t made any rash decisions.


    In Julian''s dreams, he had seen too many people act impulsively and in an unthinking manner tried to do what they thought best. Just as often, these hasty actions ended up undermining everyone''s efforts.

 Chapter 14 - 14 The Birth Of A New Order

    "Where''s Graf?" Mr. Kreen was sweating profusely, surrounded by loads of cargo waiting to be moved. Once again, Graf, who could do the work of five men, had vanished, leaving Mr. Kreen seething. The railroad and steam engines were not public property of the Empire but were built and owned by powerful financial groups for their own needs. In other words, the station was a private company, and Mr.


    Kreen was the owner.


    History had proven that no capitalist was ever truly benevolent. Their friendliness toward workers was nothing but a performance, a means to exploit them more efficiently. To capitalists, every worker had a precise value that represented how much they contributed physically and how much they could be exploited.


    Graf wasn''t a good worker, but he was an excellent target for exploitation. Despite his many flaws, Mr. Kreen wouldn''t make things too difficult for him because Graf''s output far outweighed the trouble and losses caused by his absences.


    But all of this depended on one thing: Graf had to be present to get exploited. Without this, Graf was worthless.


    "Has anyone seen that guy?" Mr. Kreen roared, ripping open his collar. Another train would arrive in an hour, requiring a massive load of goods to be unloaded and transferred. Several workers were already exhausted, and without Graf, efficiency had dropped by over ten percent.


    As Kreen searched the station, his frustration mounting, he finally shouted in front of the workers that Graf would be penalized according to the contract. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was nothing more than a wage deduction and perhaps a fine.


    Jobs with strict deadlines often had harsher contractual clauses to prevent workers from slacking off or skipping work.


    Clearly, Graf had breached the contract.


    But did Graf care?


    He didn''t care at all!


    Compared to toiling at the station, selling high-proof fruit liquor privately was far more profitable and faster.


    "We can''t keep working alone; we need a proper team to help us with this," Julian explained, imparting his thoughts to Graf. "After all, our business isn''t exactly legal. We need to disguise ourselves, ensure we have enough protection for when things go south, and manage the risks."


    Over the past two days, Julian had been constantly thinking about how to grow the business. After experiencing the failure of his first venture, he had become more cautious and had gained a deeper understanding of what he had seen in his dreams.


    No one can succeed alone. Competition is fierce, in any society and at any time. In such an environment, the only way to protect one''s core interests is by gathering more vested parties. It was like that incident with the car wash¡ªif Julian had had Graf and maybe three or five others by his side, would that thug, Mad Dog Wilson, have dared to mess with him?


    No, he wouldn''t have!


    Having experienced something that had affected him personally, Julian now had a clearer sense of the direction his future needed to take.


    "The trading company I registered can import some low-proof liquor as a cover. Low-proof liquor also has a huge market, and if we can figure out how to refine it, it will be a goldmine. We''ll also need about ten to twenty people, individuals with the ambition and courage to pursue dreams. We might be facing some competition sooner than you think."


    Graf immediately puffed out his chest, "Who? Who''s coming for us?"


    Julian sighed, his head aching. Who? Of course, it would be the high-proof liquor merchants and distilleries whose profits were being threatened. Introducing a new high-proof fruit liquor to the market, one that attracted drinkers, meant people would abandon their previous choices. This was no different from taking someone''s market share.


    It wasn''t legitimate business; Julian had known from the start that this was a shady operation.


    Shady businesses, like legitimate ones, were still subject to brutal competition. In the world of legitimate business, market competition could be managed through business tactics. But in the shadows, competition was often settled with violence and dirty tricks.


    If you destroy someone''s livelihood, don''t expect them to smile and speak kindly to you¡ªit''ll come down to fists.


    After a long explanation, Graf slapped his forehead with a loud thwack, a look of exasperation on his face. "Why didn''t you just say you want to start a gang?"


    Start¡­ a gang?


    Julian fell silent. When he left the countryside, Mr. Kesma had hoped he would become a productive member of society. His mother wanted him to be successful, and his siblings wanted him to be a role model.


    No one had ever hoped he would become a gangster, let alone a gang leader.


    When had his grand dreams of wealth become twisted into something so far from his original aspirations?


    Julian glanced at Graf, considered the physical disparity between them, and sighed. Maybe it was fate.


    Julian said nothing, but Graf became even more excited, laughing aloud. "I''ve always wanted to start a Guar gang! We Guars are all strong and brave warriors..." He glanced at Julian with the same look Julian had just given him and added, "Well, most of us, at least¡­ haha! Once our gang is up and running, those damned Ordinian people won''t dare to bully us anymore. It''s a great idea, and I''m with you!"


    As one of the Empire''s minority groups, the Guars lived in less-than-ideal conditions. During the war, the government had conscripted many Guars, and their numbers had been severely reduced, leaving their communities weakened. This made them a frequent target for bullying, especially by the Ordinian people.


    In Ternell, most of the gangs were controlled by Ordinians, like Mad Dog Wilson, who was a prime example.


    Julian pondered for a moment before raising his head. "I don''t think we need a gang. What we need is an organization¡ªsomething for the Guars, like a¡­ a Fellowship association!"

 Chapter 15 - 15 The Fellowship Association

    After a long pause, Julian finally looked up and said, "What we need isn''t a gang¡ªit''s an organization. A Guar association."


    The Guar people were not originally part of the Star Empire. About sixty years ago, a war broke out, and the Guar nation was destroyed by the Star Empire. The Guar people and their homeland were annexed into the empire''s territory, becoming part of its composition.


    It cannot be denied that during the war of resistance, the Guar people showed a quality of preferring death on the battlefield over retreating even a single step, causing great trouble for the Star Empire at the time.


    Afterward, in order to prevent the defeated Guar people from gathering and causing further problems, a high ranking figure came up with a strategy: scatter the Guar people and relocate them to various regions across the empire.


    Once dispersed, it was difficult for the Guar people to unite, even if they wished to. Later, as conflicts on the border with neighboring nations escalated, leading to the outbreak of the Third World War, known as the Golden Goblet War, a large number of young Guar men were forcibly conscripted into the military, only to perish on the battlefield.


    This left the Guar people in an extremely harsh living environment. More recently, in the war that just ended, many more young Guar men were drafted, causing the Guar population to suffer severely.


    Now, with many Guar families having lost their labor force and main providers, the survivors have adopted a mindset of avoiding trouble whenever possible. Over time, this has made the Guar people indistinguishable from ordinary citizens, or even more fearful of stirring up conflict. In this rapidly changing society, the Guar people have become synonymous with "honest folk" and "pushover."


    In the city of Terneil, there are about two thousand Guar households. Of the men between sixteen and forty years of age, fewer than three hundred remain, as the rest had perished as cannon fodder in the empire''s recent wars. Their sacrifices tipped the balance in favor of the empire, securing a victory¡ªalbeit a bitter one.


    However, to the Ordinians, the dominant ethnic group of the empire, it wasn''t a bitter victory at all, but rather a grand triumph.


    They had used the populations of ethnic minorities to fight in place of the Ordinians, successfully depleting the future potential and development of these minority groups. Not only did they win the war, but they also purified the population ratio¡ªtruly killing two birds with one stone!


    Under these circumstances, when Julian proposed the idea of a "Fellowship Association," it quickly garnered attention, particularly from the sixteen year olds and those slightly younger, after Graf''s promotion of the idea.


    Having personally felt the malice from both the empire and society, these youths were eager to use their hands and efforts to improve the lives of the Guar people and their own circumstances.


    And Julian offered these kids, who had no prospects for gaining a higher status in society, a decent salary so they could support themselves and their families.


    Looking at the group of youths, aged fourteen to sixteen, Julian''s gaze carried an inexplicable expression as he glanced at Graf. Among these children were even three girls. If it weren''t for the hope and vitality in their eyes for a better future, Julian might have dismissed them all. At this moment, he forgot that he was their age himself, only slightly older than the others.


    Julian pulled Graf aside, casting a glance at the group of thirty or so boys and the three girls, and asked quietly, "No adults? No one in their twenties?"


    Graf smiled awkwardly. When the empire''s military conscripted the men of Terneil, they forcibly drafted all males between sixteen and forty. Besides Graf, who had hidden in the wilderness early on, there were no able bodied men left. As for those who fled, they were even less willing to join something that had obvious gang like intentions, such as the Fellowship Association.


    These timid individuals, along with those simply wanting to live peacefully, flat out rejected Graf''s invitation. This embarrassed Graf and made him secretly resentful. When they had asked him for help in the past, he had never refused. Now, when it came time to fight for the Guar people''s rights, they cowered. They no longer resembled the Guar people, lacking even an ounce of courage or resolve.


    As a result, Graf had no choice but to recruit these dissatisfied, daring youngsters.


    After Graf''s lengthy explanation, Julian was left speechless. But with the situation at hand and his own need for manpower, he had no choice but to accept it. While young people lacked the experience and lessons that adults had, he figured he would just have to put more effort into educating these youngsters.


    When the two returned to the group, many of the boys and girls wore anxious expressions, their eyes fixated on Julian, waiting for his answer.


    After a brief moment, just as disappointment began to show on some of their faces, Julian nodded. "The Fellowship Association welcomes you all!" S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At that moment, Graf grabbed Julian''s hand, and to Julian''s shock, reopened the barely healed cut on his palm. Blood immediately flowed out, but instead of fear, the boys and girls¡ªyes, even the girls¡ªwere thrilled by the sight.


    Without Graf''s prompting, the boys and girls lined up, taking the knife from Graf and cutting their palms open. They each clasped Julian''s hand firmly, and unlike the last time, they kissed the back of his hand after shaking it.


    The last ceremony had been a pact between equals¡ªa ritual of friendship. This time, however, it was a ritual of loyalty.


    In a unique part of Guar religious culture, kissing the back of someone''s hand was an important ritual performed by family members toward the head of the household, originally stemming from the Guar aristocracy. During festive times, nobles would line up to kiss the king''s hand to show respect and submission.


    Over time, this ritual became a part of daily life, something most Guar people were familiar with.

 Chapter 16 - 16 Heidler

    Especially the city dwelling youths, who, due to their social environment, revered and longed for everything from the Guar Kingdom''s past. Their nostalgia for the past motivated them to better themselves.


    After the last of the three girls kissed Julian''s now numb hand, he glanced at the blood soaked floor and couldn''t help but twitch his mouth.


    His hand was completely numb now, not to mention his arm. Would it have to be amputated?


    But of course, even if he were to cry, he had to smile through the tears.


    He nodded resolutely, "From today onward, we are all one family. We share the same glory and stand as one!"


    Graf''s face flushed with excitement as he thumped his chest and shouted, "We stand as one, and share the same glory!"


    As Julian watched the boys and girls shouting hysterically, he marveled at how a simple ceremony and a few words could have such a profound effect. His heart raced, and he squinted slightly, feeling a surreal sensation sweep over him.


    The establishment of the Fellowship Association in Terneil was like a drop of water in a vast lake, too small to even create a ripple. Even those who learned about it through certain channels didn''t care much.


    A group of kids forming an association¡ªcould such a trivial thing impact the underground structure of Terneil, which hadn''t changed for years? Don''t be ridiculous. Not to mention the small gangs that could only control one or two streets¡ªwho would dare challenge the major gangs?


    They had professional enforcers, and more importantly, heat crossbows and thermal energy weapons, which civilians weren''t even allowed to own!


    These were powerful weapons. A single thermal energy crossbow could wipe out twenty to thirty people in one sweep. Thus, everyone saw the Fellowship Association as nothing more than child''s play.


    Although many disregarded the establishment of the association, some did take notice. One of them was Heidler, a prominent figure in Terneil''s upper class, the vice president of the Terneil branch of the Imperial Chamber of Commerce, and a Guar himself.


    Heidler was a Guar of legendary status and one who had long been ostracized by his own people.


    This might sound confusing, but before the fall of the Guar Kingdom, some Guar had surrendered early, becoming "good citizens on the side of justice." One such person was Heidler''s father.


    At the time, in order to shorten the war and reduce casualties among the Ordinians, the Star Empire granted these surrendering Guar great benefits and privileges, hoping to "convert" the remaining resistance in the Guar Kingdom.


    Indeed, these individuals had a significant impact, but after the fall of the Guar Kingdom, their situation became awkward. The Ordinians no longer wished to grant them privileges and found excuses to revoke some of their rights. This devastated Heidler''s father''s family, pushing them to the brink of bankruptcy.


    Heidler''s father eventually died from a stroke, leaving the crumbling family business to Heidler , who was then barely twenty years old.


    Through his exceptional skills and personal abilities, Heidler rose and fell several times before finally solidifying his place in the Imperial Chamber of Commerce, becoming a person of high status.


    Having experienced so many ups and downs, Heidler was even more eager for the scattered Guar people to unite. But he couldn''t do it himself. His position was already high enough that others were beginning to grow wary of a Guar holding one of the thirty-six seats in the Chamber of Commerce. If he made a move, those wolves in the shadows would have an excuse to kick him out.


    When Heidler heard that a man named Julian Kesma had established a Fellowship Association, he immediately began investigating everything about Julian


    Heidler wanted to meet this young man named Julian for two reasons.


    The first reason was that his current position was very sensitive and awkward. In the eyes of the Ordinians, the Guar people were a "conquered race." For the Ordinians, who harbored a strong sense of superiority, the Guar people were considered "inferiors," defeated and unwelcome losers.


    Now, the fact that one of these losers had managed to become one of the thirty six council members of the Chamber of Commerce was something many found unbearable.


    Had Heidler not been extremely cautious and avoided making any missteps, he would have been voted out of his position long ago.


    Therefore, he needed power¡ªa force strong enough that, even if others had objections to him, they would have to grudgingly accept him. This power had been on his mind for quite some time, and it was none other than the scattered Guar people.


    Once they were united, with Heidler guiding and leading them, for the sake of stability, both the empire and the Chamber of Commerce would have to consider Heidler, the "leader" of the Guar people.


    Only in this way could he continue to grow his influence.


    The second reason was actually an extension of the first. Heidler needed someone to help him not with business matters, but to handle things that couldn''t see the light of day.


    There''s a saying in the capitalist circles: "If you become kind, you''ll have to face countless demons." This phrase doesn''t seem to have much problem on the surface, but what it really speaks to is the dynamic between the attitude of capitalists and the exploited.


    The former cement tycoon Dorfalk was very good to his workers, offering higher wages than other industries and even providing some benefits, always maintaining a friendly relationship with them.


    Later, however, Dorfalk faced fierce competition from his business rivals, who banded together to form a new company and engaged in brutal competition with him. They used cheaper labor to produce lower cost cement, shattering Dorfalk''s market defenses. To protect himself, Dorfalk had no choice but to reduce workers wages and benefits to cope with the pain caused by malicious price wars. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When both sides had suffered heavy losses and were ready to call it quits, Dorfalk''s workers went on strike.

 Chapter 17 - 17 Dignity

    The reason was simple: they demanded a return to the previous high wages and benefits, refusing to bear the costs of the brutal business competition. Within a month, Dorfalk Cement Company, which once held over 65% market share, shut down due to labor issues. The market was devoured, and the once mighty cement king declared bankruptcy.


    The enormous market and leftover assets were swiftly swallowed by the crocodiles of the capital market. Dorfalk himself, once so high and mighty, leaped from the top of the Empire State Building, leaving behind a pool of dark blood to mark the end of his brilliant life.


    This wasn''t just a problem for Dorfalk¡ªit was a problem nearly all capitalists had to face. Workers, supported and manipulated by labor unions, now had the power to stand up to and oppose capitalists. If a labor union felt that a capitalist had harmed the interests of its members, they would organize protests and strikes in retaliation.


    If the situation worsened, they might even prevent union members from working at that company''s factory, leaving the enterprise without any workers.


    But does this mean that labor unions are now on equal footing with capitalists? S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Not exactly, because capitalists have money and people.


    Money needs no explanation, but "people" refers to those forces that cannot be seen¡ªgang members, or vagrants who are unemployed and idle. These individuals can use threats, intimidation, and even violence to prevent strikes and protests, sometimes going as far as threatening the lives of union leaders to force them into submission. Of course, the most common method is still simply bribery.


    Heidler didn''t have many people at his disposal. He was under the watchful eyes of the Ordinians, and if he used his own people to do these things, he would certainly be caught. Therefore, he urgently needed someone to become his sharpest knife, someone who could do what he dared not.


    The Fellowship Association presented a perfect opportunity. Heidler had money, and he didn''t mind spending it. As long as it helped him achieve his goals, no amount of money was too much.


    Thus, Heidler was eager to meet Julian and support the development of the Fellowship Association as soon as possible.


    The establishment of the Fellowship Association didn''t attract much attention. Even if Heidler and Julian met, it wouldn''t stir up any controversy. But if the Fellowship Association grew and began attracting attention from certain factions, meeting with Julian later might raise suspicion about Heidler''s motives.


    So, the next morning, just as Julian stepped out of his dormitory, he saw two men in suits.


    "Someone wants to see you. Come with us," one of them said. He had short hair, wore gold rimmed glasses, and his refined suit gave him the air of a successful person. Although he spoke to Julian with a smile and a polite tone, Julian, ever sensitive, noticed the hidden contempt and disdain in the man''s eyes. Julian had lived through a decades long dream and had met countless people like this.


    Still, Julian wisely didn''t show any reaction. The man''s clothes and accessories alone were worth more than all of Julian''s savings combined. In a society where capital reigned supreme, money was the measure of a person''s success and strength. Julian didn''t yet meet this standard, and since he hadn''t offended anyone like this before, he assumed he was safe.


    Nonetheless, he called Graf to join him, and the two of them boarded last year''s model of the Xuma, a car with a convertible roof.


    The car''s interior was spacious. Once the curtains were drawn, the cabin was cut off from the outside world. The refined looking man continued to smile his false smile as he spoke. "My name is Lamas. At Mr. Heidler''s request, I''ve come to take you to meet him." He shook his head slightly and added, "When speaking, don''t look directly into Mr.


    Heidler''s eyes unless he permits it. Don''t shout or use vulgar language. When you speak, don''t use street slang or curse words."


    "Before you speak, think carefully about whether your words are appropriate, whether they clearly express your meaning. Enunciate as much as possible, and avoid using body language. Maintain your dignity."


    Julian''s outward demeanor remained unchanged, but deep inside, a fire was raging. He turned to Mr. Lamas with the same fake smile and nodded.


    Lamas, satisfied, smiled in return, unaware that he had already made an enemy of Julian¡ªa mortal enemy.


    Every word Lamas spoke was, in Julian''s ears, an insult, a denial of everything he possessed, a malicious slander. Lamas was trampling on his self respect, his dignity, and his pride. His condescending gaze, as if looking at trash, pierced Julian''s soul. Julian swore that if given the chance¡ªno, he would make sure of it¡ªhe would get his revenge.


    But not now.


    While Julian simmered with anger and humiliation, Graf, ignorant as ever, listened intently and nodded enthusiastically, filled with excitement.


    Graf''s case had been resolved thanks to Mr. Heidler''s intervention, sparing him from a long prison sentence. He felt deeply grateful to the man he had never met, even thinking of him as the protector of all Guar people. After all, why would such a high status figure help a nobody like him otherwise?


    In silence, the Xuma slowly pulled up in front of an estate on the outskirts of Ternell. After exiting the car, Mr. Lamas opened the door for them and gestured toward the main entrance. "Someone will take you to meet Mr. Heidler. I have other matters to attend to.


    Farewell."


    After taking a few steps, Julian suddenly stopped and turned around. He caught a glimpse of Lamas wiping down the seat where they had sat with a handkerchief, which he then threw to the ground.


    Julian took a deep breath, suppressing the sudden surge of anger and humiliation. He didn''t realize it yet, but the experiences from his dream were quietly reshaping his worldview and personality.


    "What''s wrong?" Graf asked, nudging Julian with his elbow. "You don''t look so good. Did you stay up too late last night? For heaven''s sake, we''re about to meet Mr. Heidler¡ªyou need to pull yourself together."


    Julian couldn''t help but respond sarcastically, "So, should I roll up my tail like a stray dog?" The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted saying them.


    Graf was stunned for a moment, then shook his head. "Once you meet Mr. Heidler, you''ll understand what kind of man he is."


    Julian remebred a saying from his dream: "Those with different paths cannot walk together."


    He glanced at Graf and said no more. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and walked into the estate with the posture of a victorious general.


    As he gazed at the exquisitely manicured gardens and the well dressed gardeners tending to the green foliage, his thoughts drifted far away.


    No one will trample on my dignity and force me to smile in return!


    No one!

 Chapter 18 - 18 Business

    Under the watchful and warning gaze of the butler, Julian and Graf stood outside the gates of the estate, expressionless. They waited for about ten minutes before being told they could enter. For a wealthy magnate like Heidler, there was naturally a set of protocols to follow. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This was not a stable and peaceful society; the turmoil following the end of the war continued, and the government''s reforms were worsening social order. So even when summoned by a great capitalist, there was a whole process to go through.


    After entering the gates, three stern looking men in suits approached them. They asked Julian and Graf to raise their hands and thoroughly searched their bodies. Once they confirmed that Julian wasn''t carrying any weapons and had confiscated Graf''s dagger, they were allowed to proceed.


    They walked down a long hallway and up to the second floor. In the easternmost room, they finally met Heidler.


    At that moment, Heidler appeared to be only about fifty years old. His hair was silver-gray, his face was smooth and wrinkle-free, round, with a high nose and thin lips. He was in excellent health, his face glowing with vitality, suggesting that he might be even older than Julian had estimated.


    He wore a very expensive, high end suit with silk fabric from the East, both sturdy and slightly reflective.


    His collar and cuffs were adorned with costly gemstones, and even the buttons on his shirt were made of amethyst.


    This was a very wealthy old man. The Imperial Chamber of Commerce had only thirty-six council seats, and these thirty-six individuals ruled over everything related to commerce and trade in the empire. From the small shops selling shoes on the street to the operation of steam locomotives, everything was under their control.


    Some joked that while these thirty-six people weren''t emperors, they wielded imperial power!


    Heidler was smiling. These big figures all had many masks, and you could never tell if they were wearing one. He gestured for Julian and Graf to sit, even personally rising to pour them each a glass of golden, crystal-clear wine, placing the glasses in front of them. Julian and Graf both stood as a gesture of politeness, unrelated to any personal grievances.


    However, while Graf bowed slightly, Julian''s back remained straight.


    "I arranged for you to be brought here because there are some things I want to discuss with you," Heidler said as he moved behind the table and gestured for them to sit, "I''m a Guar. I know what people say about my father, and I know how some of them slander me as well."


    He lifted his glass, took a sip, and raised it slightly. "Dwelling on the past will only keep you from seeing tomorrow. We should look forward, chasing the sun and light."


    "The Guar people are suffering. The empire has always been wary of us, scattering us across the empire. Like grains of sand on a beach, we can never unite, and that''s why our conditions are so poor."


    He spread his hands slightly and leaned back into his luxurious, heavy chair. "It is our pride to be born as Guar. We should not succumb to the tricks of fate, just like we didn''t in the war of resistance. That was our glory."


    "I''ve heard that someone has established a fellowship association primarily for the Guar people. I was surprised¡ªit''s no simple feat, but you managed to do it."


    "Julian, may I call you that? What do you think should be the next step in the development of the Fellowship Association?"


    Heidler''s wealth didn''t just fall from the sky. After some flattering words, he began to evaluate the young leader of the Fellowship Association. If Julian''s ideas were sound, Heidler would recognize him as the leader. But if Julian saw the association as merely a toy or a game, Heidler would find a way to replace him with someone of his own. He needed a useful tool, not a toy.


    Anyone else might have found it difficult to come up with a plan and the right words to deal with Heidler in such a short time, especially since the birth of the Fellowship Association was more of a coincidence than a premeditated decision. But Julian wasn''t troubled by this. He had seen and experienced far more in his dream than Heidler ever had.


    After a moment of silence, Julian gathered his thoughts and spoke sincerely, "Respected Mr. Heidler, I am deeply grateful for your interest in the Fellowship Association, a newly formed organization. I feel honored by your attention and concern."


    "My initial idea for the Fellowship Association was simple: I wanted all Guar people to stand up and resist the unjust fate and treatment we face. A single finger is easy to break¡­" Julian extended his right index finger and pressed it down on the table, "But when the fingers unite, they form a fist¡ªa fist that can injure the enemy."


    Heidler appreciated Julian''s metaphor, comparing fingers to the scattered Guar people and the fist to a united group. It was precisely what he needed. Nodding in approval, he gestured for Julian to continue.


    Julian withdrew his hand and went on, "I''ve been working at the train station, as I''m sure you already know. During this short time, I joined the labor union. The union gave me a kind of unimaginable strength. It was because the workers stood together that they had¡­," Julian paused and smiled apologetically, "I''m sorry, I forgot¡­"


    "No, please continue," Heidler said, despite being a capitalist himself. Speaking about challenging capitalist authority in front of a capitalist was somewhat audacious.


    Julian took a deep breath and continued, "It was because the workers united that they gained the ability to challenge the capitalists and break free from their cruel exploitation. We Guar are the same. The reason they began to respect us after our defeat in the war was that they were forced to acknowledge us and give us the respect we deserved."

 Chapter 19 - 19 Acceleration Of The Plans

    "People like to talk about dignity, but dignity is not something others give you, nor is it something you are born with. All dignity, respect, and glory must be earned for oneself." As Julian spoke, Heidler''s eyes widened slightly. Everything Julian said resonated deeply with his own experiences.


    If he hadn''t faced ups and downs, how could he have become a legend and earned the respect and hostility of the Ordinians?


    "Our first step is to truly become a family. All members should be brothers and sisters, and we must take care of everyone, fighting for their rights and interests."


    "Our second step is to make our voices heard in society, so all Ordinians, all other races, and the entire empire know that we are not silent victims, and the day will come when we make our voices heard."


    "The third step is to expand our influence. The Fellowship Association should not be confined to a city like Ternell. It should spread across the nation, and even the world! All Guar people are our brothers and sisters, and they should receive our care, benefits, and support."


    "As for the rest¡­," Julian smiled awkwardly, "I haven''t thought that far ahead."


    Heidler raised his hand. "No, you''ve said enough! You''ve spoken better than I could have imagined." He couldn''t help but stand, pacing behind the table. "You''ve said things much better than I expected. But have you thought about one issue¡ªwhat if the rise of the Guar people is met with insurmountable obstacles?"


    "As long as we have the desire and courage to climb, we can conquer any mountain!" Julian clenched his fist, "If we encounter an obstacle we can''t overcome¡­"


    "Then we''ll break it!"


    This conversation confirmed for Heidler that Julian and his Fellowship Association were worth investing in. For Heidler, the investment was a small amount of money but could yield astonishing returns. Moreover, through this conversation, Heidler realized that Julian was ambitious and intelligent¡ªa good thing. Only ambitious people possess the drive to move forward and become valuable tools for him.


    As for how to control Julian and the Fellowship Association, Heidler already had a plan in mind.


    What do two poor young men running a fellowship association lack the most?


    Money!


    Heidler would invest funds to help the association grow. As the Fellowship Association expanded, its need for money would only increase. As long as they couldn''t sustain themselves financially, they would remain under Heidler''s control, serving his interests.


    If they ever tried to rebel, Heidler wouldn''t need to do much¡ªhe could simply cut off their funding, and the now-large Fellowship Association would turn on Julian and oust him.


    So Heidler wasn''t worried that the Fellowship Association''s growth would become a problem for him. On the contrary, he feared that it wouldn''t develop fast enough to serve his needs.


    This conversation created a clear opportunity for cooperation between the two sides.


    As Julian left Heidler''s estate, his pocket held 300 in cash, with another 700 to be delivered in three installments over the next two months.


    Of course, all of this came with a condition: Julian could only receive the first installment of 200 after showing visible progress in the Fellowship Association, such as gaining a significant number of members and forming a united, solid group. As long as he achieved this, the funds would be provided to support the association''s development.


    During the negotiations, Julian proactively suggested that the Fellowship Association should keep a detailed account of all the money spent¡ªwhen and where it was used, whether it achieved the expected results, and any further issues to be addressed.


    Heidler agreed to this without hesitation, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, Julian, as the founder of the Fellowship Association, would always hold more authority than anyone else.


    Thus, rather than sending someone to compete with Julian for the leadership, Heidler preferred to use money to capture the Fellowship Association, gradually turning Julian into a puppet and a tool for his purposes. Knowing the power of capital, Heidler was quick to agree when Julian brought up the idea of keeping financial records.


    However, what Heidler didn''t know was that Julian''s true intention for founding the Fellowship Association was to recruit people for his own trading company. He had no interest in becoming the leader of some gang! sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But regardless, the unexpected windfall of 300 allowed Julian to accelerate his plans, without the need to continue raising funds.


    From the start, he had planned to use his trading company to purchase a batch of low alcohol wine from domestic and foreign distilleries. These low alcohol wines would serve as a cover for distillation and purification. Julian wouldn''t neglect the profits from the low alcohol wine, even if they were modest.


    Graf had already contacted several suppliers. Julian had originally intended to wait until he had saved at least 100 before negotiating with them. Unexpectedly, Heidler''s intervention had resolved the funding issue, covering the gap.


    By midday, Julian had Graf arrange a meeting with a businessman from the Free Federation. The almond-flavored low alcohol moonshine they produced was priced in the lower middle range of the market but had an alcohol content of 8%, making it ideal for purification.


    The Free Federation lay to the southeast of the Star Empire, a country composed of 22 provinces. It had adopted a republican system, governed by 50 senators in the upper house and five presidents of the senate. Their terms lasted four years, and each could serve up to two terms.


    However, if tensions escalated internationally during an election period, leading to imminent war, or if the election coincided with an active war, the Special Emergency Re-election Bill could be proposed by the lower house, allowing senators and presidents of the senate to run for a third term.


    If more than half of the senators or three presidents agreed to continue, a "Special Power Oversight Committee" would be formed by the lower house to monitor any corruption or abuse of power during the extended term.

 Chapter 20 - 20 The Star Empire Situation

    The Free Federation was a country unlike the Star Empire, which was in the midst of reform. In the recently concluded war, the Star Empire had won a bitter victory, while the Free Federation had achieved a major victory.


    This might seem confusing to many how could both countries claim victory in a war between them? The answer was not that complicated. For the Star Empire, victory meant defending their territory, ensuring that the invaders didn''t seize their land or enslave their people, which was how they defined their victory in the war.


    However, for the Free Federation, although they hadn''t gained land or cheap labor, they had achieved an unprecedented economic breakthrough, particularly in tariffs and other matters still undocumented in the unofficial post war memorandum between the two nations.


    This bitter victory for the Star Empire led to widespread reflection across the empire. Once a mighty power, how had they been reduced to the point where they were bullied by a federation without even a king or a pope? In the midst of this political turmoil, the empire''s various factions gradually coalesced around one idea:


    The emperor''s interference during the war and the rampant class struggle had severely damaged what could have been a favorable situation. After the war, a new notion quickly took hold: the imperial system was outdated, and only a constitutional monarchy could save the Star Empire from the brink of collapse.


    The nobles, who had lost their imperial protection, the new reformers aspiring to become the country''s ruling class, the capitalists eager to influence politics, and the idealistic rebels seeking to change the world¡­


    These clearly defined groups were now performing a series of shocking political dramas on the brightest stage of the Star Empire.


    In such a situation, societal issues were naturally pushed aside by the powerful. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For the capitalists of the Free Federation, the empire now stripped of some of its tariff powers had become a ripe opportunity. Goods of all kinds flowed across the border into the empire. With tax exemptions and even refunds and subsidies, the Star Empire''s light and craft industries faced immense pressure, turning the empire into a playground for Federation merchants.


    Julian''s upcoming meeting was with one such merchant from the Federation.


    "You look very young. Forgive me for asking, but are you of legal age?" The blonde, forty something agent with a bushy brown beard looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. Julian indeed looked very young. The agent didn''t mind doing business with people of different ages or backgrounds, but he was clearly surprised.


    Julian shrugged, casually lit a cigarette to make himself look a bit more mature, though it might have had the opposite effect. Flicking the ash with practiced ease, he replied, "I''m already seventeen, Mr. Richard."


    Richard gave a noncommittal nod, a hint of nostalgia in his voice as he said, "When I was seventeen, I was still working in a factory for a boss. But you, at seventeen, already own your own trading company..." He shook his head with a smile. "Alright, let''s get down to business. I hear you want to purchase some low alcohol wine for resale, is that right?"


    Before Julian could answer, Richard continued, "Moonshine has a unique taste, different from the common low alcohol wines on the market. Our wine has a slightly bitter almond flavor, not overly sweet like those juice like wines that can be cloying. With our Moonshine almond wine, you can easily drink five or six bottles."


    "More importantly, our price positioning is spot on. We target the mid market, so it''s affordable for everyone, while still leaving you enough room for profit."


    Julian nodded. He already knew all of this. What concerned him was the price. "Can we discuss the specific price, Mr. Richard? Our target is not just the city of Ternell, but the entire province, and perhaps even the whole empire."


    After thinking for a moment, Richard quoted a price of 85 cents per bottle. As he had mentioned earlier, this price was in the middle of the low alcohol wine market. Cheaper wines could go for 55 or 60 cents a bottle, while more expensive ones could cost over a dollar. The 85 cent price was certainly well positioned, but it wasn''t a price Julian could accept.


    Whether it was selling the wine directly or using it for distillation, the price was too high and awkward. To ensure a profit, Julian would have to sell the wine at a dollar per bottle. When the bars put it on their shelves, they''d need to ensure at least a 30 cent profit per bottle to make it worthwhile.


    When the wine reached the customers glasses, the price per glass would be around 30 cents.


    A mid range price like this created an awkward situation, which might explain why Moonshine hadn''t gained much traction in the empire so far. If customers wanted to drink something cheaper, they could get two glasses for the price of one. Heavy drinkers didn''t care about the quality of the wine they just wanted to get the most for their money. As for middle class customers?


    They''d rather spend an extra 10 or 20 cents to drink something of higher quality.


    Someone who could afford to drink a 30 cent glass of wine wouldn''t mind paying an extra 10 cents. What they cared about was prestige.


    This awkward price point made Moonshine an unpopular choice in bars, with sluggish sales.


    For distillation, it was even less cost effective. It would take three bottles of Moonshine to distill one bottle of high proof alcohol, bringing the cost to about 2.50. Adding in the cost of fruit juice, labor, various losses, and the occasional bottle breakage during transport, the total cost would rise to around five or six dollars.


    Selling it to bars would yield only about a four dollar profit, with over a dollar of that going to Graf, leaving Julian with just over two dollars.


    Risking jail time for a business with only a 40% profit margin? That would be crazy!

 Chapter 21 - 21 Negotiation

    "Your price is too high!" Julian''s remark nearly caused Mr. Richard''s eyes to pop out. In the over a year he had spent representing Moonshine in Ternell, it was the first time someone had told him that his goods were overpriced! He knew that bars had already decided to purchase the high quality almond wine priced at 85 cents a bottle, and no one had ever said his products were expensive!


    Looking at the remarkably young Julian, Richard wondered if this young man was genuinely interested in doing business or if he had simply come to toy with him. Just as he was preparing to end this somewhat unpleasant negotiation, a single statement from Julian made him sit back down in his chair.


    Julian simply extended a finger and said earnestly, "In six months, ten thousand bottles!"


    Every successful businessman can quickly estimate their potential revenue and profit margins using mental arithmetic. Ten thousand bottles meant 8,500, with roughly 30% profit. This deal could net Julian at least 2,500!


    Is 2,500 a lot?


    It could be considered both a lot and not much at all.


    For wealthy capitalists, 2,500 was merely the price of a luxury car, the amount they might spend on a mistress for a year, or just the chips they would throw to cover their entourage after a gambling spree.


    To these capitalists, 2,500 was nothing.


    But for the average person, it was money that would take twenty years of frugality¡ªno food, no drink, no clothes¡ªto save up. However, by the time they managed to save 2,500, its value would have changed significantly.


    For Richard, 2,500 represented a business opportunity that could provide him with comfort for a while!


    He was convinced that if this deal could be maintained, it would become the most successful transaction of his life!


    Julian had just painted a grand vision for him. If Ternell could operate at such a scale, how much more could they achieve across the entire Star Empire?


    It was unimaginable!


    Before Richard could even ask Julian when he would need the ten thousand bottles of Moonshine almond wine, and while he was considering how to slightly adjust the price, Julian stepped in first, saying, "I must be honest with you, integrity is the cornerstone of any successful businessman.


    Prior to our meeting, I engaged with four other wine suppliers¡ªsome from abroad and others from the Star Empire. Based on their quotations, your Moonshine lacks any competitive advantages."


    Richard maintained a neutral smile, but inside he was nervous. This deal was crucial for him. The inexplicable inability of Moonshine to penetrate the market in the Star Empire had already enraged the big bosses of the Free Federation. If he could make this deal work, he would not only pocket the profits but might also secure a better price for the goods.


    Additionally, if his established channels could be integrated into the company, he could transform from an agent into a management position.


    The cost of his almond wine was strictly around 60 cents. With the Free Federation''s commercial department and various guilds working behind the scenes, they planned to turn the Star Empire into a dumping ground for Free Federation products, flooding the market with high quality, affordable goods to dismantle the Empire''s light and craft industries and cause an economic collapse.


    Thus, even selling to this young man named Julian at a cost of 60 cents would still yield Richard a profit.


    Because the Free Federation offered subsidies, the more he sold, the more support he received. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    On one hand, there were personal gains; on the other, there was a promising future. Richard quickly settled on a psychological price point of 65 cents. He believed that under equal quality conditions, no one could offer a better price than his.


    Of course, while he had a psychological price, if he could negotiate a higher price, that would be even better. So, with a smile, he asked, "I''m curious¡ªwhat prices have others offered you that made you feel my goods were ''expensive''?"


    Julian spread his hands, revealing a slightly regretful expression, as if he had already decided to forgo any potential trade. He sighed, "There are offers at 40 and 50 cents, with a maximum of 62 cents."


    Upon hearing this, Richard felt a sharp pang of irritation. He forced a smile and said, "If I price it at that range, I won''t make a penny. Besides, Mr. Julian, you should understand that Moonshine almond wine is absolutely superior to what those other merchants provide."


    "But, sir, people are unlikely to distinguish between a slightly higher or lower alcohol content based solely on taste. As you said, quality is certainly important, but the audience is more crucial. Women don''t prefer wines with a hint of bitterness; it''s primarily adult males who do."


    Julian stood up, straightened his clothes, and extended his hand. "While I truly hope to collaborate with you to distribute this higher quality wine, you know, whether it''s about price or audience, unless you can meet my requirements in any capacity, I cannot commit to signing an agreement with you."


    Richard reluctantly stood up, shaking Julian''s hand. He desperately wanted to say he could lower the price, but he knew now was not the right moment. Having just declared a price deemed too high, he wouldn''t want to appear as if he were backpedaling. It would be better to wait two or three days before contacting Julian again, making the proposal seem more sincere.


    After watching Julian leave, Richard began arranging for his men to investigate Julian''s company and his financial capacity while simultaneously preparing to source goods from within the Free Federation. Their warehouse had only over 2,000 bottles left, most of which had been there since the previous year and hadn''t sold out yet!


    Once he was a little further away from Richard, Graf scratched his head, wearing an expression that suggested he wanted to ask something but didn''t dare.

 Chapter 22 - 22 Market Share

    "What do you want to ask?"


    Graf chuckled, "Are we really going to buy ten thousand bottles? We don''t have that much money, and Mr. Heidler said the funds would be given in installments, so we might not make it in time."


    Julian pulled out a complete roll of cigarettes from his pack Lion brand, twelve cents a pack and lit one, hoping it would make him appear a bit more mature, though it might have the opposite effect. He flicked the ash with practiced ease and said casually, "Sometimes you don''t need to pay to buy something; sometimes, they''ll even pay us!"


    Graf looked bewildered. Not having to pay for something while also making money? What kind of scheme was that? A chill ran down his spine, and he began to look at Julian with slightly different eyes.


    Julian knew he couldn''t explain this to someone like Graf, who seemed to have muscles for brains, so he didn''t continue the conversation. Next, they met with four more suppliers. The process was largely the same as the discussion with Richard. In short, even if someone quoted a price of 50 cents per bottle, Julian would still frown and declare it too expensive.


    Perhaps the negotiation with Richard had helped him find his footing, as he decided to raise the order from ten thousand bottles to fifty thousand bottles per year! S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    If ten thousand bottles would still allow Richard to save face and appear to be a successful businessman, then fifty thousand would turn the other four suppliers into eager dogs, wagging their tails around him. This deal would be equivalent to a year''s worth of business, and they would fight tooth and nail to secure it.


    Julian swiftly painted an enticing picture for these suppliers. By evening, he hadn''t even returned home when Richard unexpectedly appeared while Julian and Graf were having corn chowder and grilled meat at a small roadside restaurant.


    This couldn''t be blamed on him. He had his men investigate Julian''s company while keeping tabs on whether he had met with other suppliers. When his men reported that they had accidentally overheard Julian requesting fifty thousand bottles a year, Richard could no longer sit idly.


    He didn''t understand the saying that "delays can lead to changes," but his instincts as a businessman told him that if he didn''t seize the opportunity, this big fish might slip through his fingers.


    Though he found it a bit odd that Julian would be dining in a regular small restaurant, Richard didn''t think much about it. The situation in the Star Empire was still very chaotic, and Ternell was a small border town. Only a few luxury restaurants were exclusive to local elites. So, Richard quickly rationalized Julian''s somewhat odd behavior, coming up with a reasonable excuse for himself.


    Feigning a chance encounter, he expressed his surprise so dramatically that even Graf muttered under his breath. "What a coincidence! May I join you?"


    Julian nodded and tilted his head toward Graf, who rolled his eyes and took his plate to sit at a nearby table.


    Richard casually ordered something to eat and said eagerly, "After you left, I thought about it for a long time. I believe we should try to establish a solid partnership, don''t you think? Look, I have everything you need, and my prices will definitely satisfy you. That''s a solid foundation for cooperation, wouldn''t you agree?"


    Julian set down his spoon, wiped his mouth with a somewhat frayed napkin, and said, "Mr. Richard, let me put it this way: I cannot accept your price¡­"


    Richard, eager and somewhat rude, interrupted Julian, "No, no, listen to me! Fate has brought us together; we should become friends. Price? That''s not a problem¡ªhow about 60 cents per bottle?"


    If Julian still hadn''t realized what was happening at this point, he would have been truly foolish.


    He smiled at the somewhat anxious Richard, chuckling lightly.


    Julian pushed the plate in front of him away and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he looked at Richard. "Mr. Richard, I don''t know where you learned about the prices from my other suppliers, whether they told you or if you overheard it by chance; it doesn''t matter.


    A large order of fifty thousand bottles a year was right before him. Forget about Julian mocking him a few times; he could even smile if slapped.


    Selling one item for a profit of ten thousand dollars versus selling fifty thousand items for a profit of five thousand dollars might seem like the former offers greater returns. However, any wise businessman would choose the latter.


    Among capitalists, there''s a saying: "Unrefined traders sell products. Inferior businessmen sell brands. Superior strategists sell markets." This saying reflects the evolution of business focus. Small traders seek profits from individual products, while slightly higher-level merchants emphasize brand value, recognizing that a strong brand can surpass the profit of any single product.


    Take moonshine brand almond liquor as an example. A manufacturer might profit thirty percent per bottle, yielding around thirty million dollars for a hundred million bottles sold. However, the value of the brand itself could exceed fifty million and continue to rise as production and sales channels improve, far outpacing the product''s intrinsic value.


    At the highest level, merchants focus on market control. While others focus on profit margins and branding, these strategists target market share. Just one percent of a large market can generate millions in revenue.


    Richard understood this principle. When Julian''s demand for moonshine almond liquor rose from ten thousand to fifty thousand bottles, Richard saw an opportunity. In the Ternell beverage market, fifty thousand bottles could represent a ten to twenty percent market share.


    What does an increase in market share mean?


    It signifies absolute control over a product, a brand, and a company within the market! No matter what new varieties of liquor moonshine brand launches in the future, they can quickly convert their market share into consumer power. Even if they were selling the worst drink, during the decline in market share, they would still rake in a fortune!


    An increase in market share means more than just higher sales; it''s about control. Even with new or less popular products, a dominant position allows the brand to convert market presence into consumer power. This wasn''t just about selling liquor; it was about seizing an opportunity for the future.

 Chapter 23 - 23 Miraculous Operation

    In response to Julian''s sarcasm, Richard''s smile remained unchanged on his face. Perhaps it did, but that smile only grew more humble.


    He lowered his head, took out a small iron box from his pocket, which contained a pack of ninety eight cent cigarettes, considered the best available in Ternell City. He handed the pack over, and after Julian accepted it, he imitated Mr. Kasma''s manner, sniffing under his nose before placing it in his mouth. Richard quickly took out his customized lighter, lit it, and brought it closer.


    After taking two puffs and exhaling a cloud of smoke, Julian said with a half smile, "I have already signed a letter of intent with two of them. They offered me a better price and even promised to customize the shape and label of the liquor I need.


    Richard thought seriously, calculating. In fact, glass is not expensive; on the contrary, it is very cheap. Over a hundred years ago, glass was considered a luxury second only to gemstones, controlled by a select few merchants.


    However, after the world war began, when a burning bomb fell on the beach and created a layer of crystal, glass has evolved and developed over the past hundred years to become so inexpensive that it can be overlooked.


    Labels are also not costly; you can print five for a penny. Including typesetting and plate costs, the maximum cost for customizing a bottle and label for each bottle of liquor is only a penny increase.


    After hesitating and contemplating for about half a minute, he finally spoke up, somewhat cautiously asking, "Is it because of the penalty clause?"


    Julian nodded. "That''s right. There are two letters of intent: one for seven hundred star dollars and one for one thousand star dollars. It''s precisely because of these agreements that I can''t continue working with you. After all, these penalties are not a small sum, don''t you think?


    For a moment, Julian''s words plunged Richard into confusion.


    He understood that if he signed the letter of intent and agreed to the penalty clause, and if Julian breached the contract, he would lose one thousand seven hundred dollars at once. However, facing a massive market share right before him made it hard to resist, stirring him up like a cat scratching at his skin.


    He considered whether Julian could sell this batch of liquor, but he soon brushed that thought aside.


    Even if he bought it and hid it away without selling, it would only be a business with little profit for Richard. But what if he could sell it?


    That would be a big deal, a long term and increasingly larger business!


    Either way, he wouldn''t lose money; why not take a gamble?


    Thinking about how he had spent over a year in this damn rural city, unable to even cover transportation and daily expenses, and how just a step forward meant a massive market and profit, the merchant''s nature finally exploded.


    Doing business as a merchant is actually quite similar to gambling; you identify a promising venture, invest, and manage it. Ultimately, aside from the controllable efforts in the middle, the key factor lies in the foresight when initially choosing the investment direction.


    At this moment, he had made a decision. He bit down hard, discreetly pinching his thigh under the table, almost crying out from the pain. He took a deep breath and sincerely said, "We are friends, Mr. Julian. Let''s do it!


    Gasping, he looked at Julian, this time truly determined. For a bottle of almond liquor, the Free Federation''s liquor trade union and the national commerce department would subsidize him two cents. The cost was forty five cents, and transportation would take about three cents, meaning that selling a bottle to Julian would only earn him twelve cents.


    He still had to bear the losses incurred during transportation, as well as storage and labor costs. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The net profit for one bottle of liquor was just over nine cents!


    The profit from fifty thousand bottles would only amount to five thousand dollars, yet he had to pay a penalty of one thousand seven hundred dollars upfront. It was quite painful to consider. But he quickly thought that as long as the sales volume of moonshine brand almond liquor opened up, it would lead to an endless stream of money, more money.


    Moreover, he wouldn''t need to create the channel, with Julian holding fifty thousand bottles, he would certainly be more eager to expand the channel than Richard himself, which meant he would earn a huge amount.


    If almond liquor sales succeeded, he could even bypass Julian and trade directly with the end retailers.


    At that time, the lost profits would not only be made up for at once but could also yield substantial gains!


    For the sake of future hopes, what was this little expense now?


    It''s all in!


    With Richard''s words, Julian finally displayed a sincere smile, tightly clasping his hands together. He ordered two cups of twenty cent fruit wine and raised his glass, "Here''s to our enterprise shining like the sun, illuminating all things!"


    Richard soon left, leaving behind an envelope containing one thousand seven hundred dollars. Watching this good man gradually walk away, Julian shrugged and tucked the envelope into his pocket.


    Graf had been dumbfounded for a while, staring at Julian, completely unaware that the thick soup was dripping onto the ground.


    What kind of operation was this?


    Buying things without paying and still receiving a sum of money first?


    Graf felt that the world he knew before must be a fake one. However, what left him even more unsettled was Julian saying that the other four suppliers would also give him a sum of money.


    At that moment, Graf suddenly thought selling liquor wasn''t that good; he might as well continue playing this miraculous trick. With so many provinces, cities, and towns across the country, perhaps he wouldn''t even have to do anything and would already be worth millions!

 Chapter 24 - 24 Looking For A Good Location For The Factory

    In Julian''s dreams, he had once witnessed an astonishing contractual maneuver that still left him impressed to this day. That guy had managed to swindle over a hundred million and then disappeared. Regardless of whether the person was good or bad, or whether what he did was right or wrong, his method and strategic thinking were nothing short of brilliant. And his boldness!


    With not a penny to his name, relying only on his words and his plan, he was able to deceive people out of hundreds of millions. A true talent!


    Julian only borrowed a small part of this grand scheme¡ªthe part about "turning nothing into something." He had no intention of becoming a fraudster or fleeing the country, so he didn''t plan to follow through with the entire operation.


    After acquiring 1,700 dollars and a brand new letter of intent, Julian quickly approached four more liquor suppliers the next morning. This meeting was far more credible than the last one, after all, the agreement was genuine. The document clearly stated that the moonshine brand had appointed an agent in Ternell City, with Richard''s signature and address.


    It would only take asking a few people to confirm that the letter of intent was legitimate, and no one would dare forge something like this.


    Two of the suppliers were unwilling to take on such a large risk and withdrew voluntarily. That left two foreign suppliers who, like Richard, were ready to gamble. From them, Julian obtained new letters of intent and two more advance deposits, bringing his total to 5,000 dollars.


    What could 5,000 dollars do?


    While Julian was thinking about his next steps, Graf, sitting nearby, was pondering the same question. Five thousand dollars could buy a dozen storefronts, allowing someone to live a life of ease and leisure. It could buy a large house, an upscale car, and still leave some money for a small business.


    With any of these choices, having 5,000 dollars meant that one wouldn''t have to worry about a bad ending to their life.


    That was five thousand dollars!


    But soon, Graf became nervous. What Julian was attempting this time was too big, so big that Graf''s heart kept racing. This was a deal for 150,000 bottles of liquor! That came to nearly 100,000 dollars! Yet Julian only had 5,000 dollars. What now?


    Should they run? Where could they run to?


    Graf glanced anxiously at Julian, thinking that such complex matters were better left for a smart person to figure out.


    From Julian''s perspective, Graf''s concerns were nothing more than groundless fear. Yes, Julian needed to buy 150,000 bottles of liquor within a year, which would indeed require about 90,000 dollars. But the liquor wouldn''t be delivered to him all at once, and his payment wouldn''t be a lump sum either.


    To put it simply, as a major client, Julian was fully justified in paying an initial deposit for 10% of the price for the first 10,000 bottles.


    Once he sold all that liquor, he would pay the full amount for the first 10,000 bottles, then repeat the process¡ªpaying another deposit and selling more liquor, settling accounts only after the sales were complete. This method minimized the pressure on his cash flow.


    The combined deposits for the three suppliers, totaling 30,000 bottles, would only cost around 2,000 dollars, leaving Julian with 3,000 dollars on hand. The real challenge for him would be finding a place to store so much liquor and a facility capable of large scale distillation.


    Using small iron pots for distillation was no longer practical. He would need to hire a blacksmith to craft a much larger distillation apparatus, which would cost at least 1,000 dollars. He also needed a secluded, hidden location that was difficult to discover, yet still reasonably convenient for transportation, where he could convert low proof liquor into high proof liquor. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Just renting a warehouse for a year would cost 300 to 500 dollars. After renovations and modifications, he would likely have little money left.


    None of this was easy.


    Over the next few days, Julian broke down all these tasks into independent projects and assigned them to Graf, who would work with members of the Fellowship association to carry them out. Julian himself went ahead and registered a new company.


    The newly registered "Ternell Leather Goods (Bags) Company" was a fallback in case money became tight. If necessary, he could use fraudulent means to secure a loan from a bank, or even transfer assets when needed. But unless it was absolutely necessary, he had no intention of using this company.


    As the young members of the Fellowship association began appearing on the streets in their new clothes and decent shoes, they attracted the curiosity of other young people. The Guartans lived hard lives, and everyone wanted new clothes and a full stomach. With this in mind, more young people joined the association after hearing about it. Mr.


    Heidler''s 200 dollars, which arrived almost five days early, helped alleviate Julian''s dwindling funds just in time.


    Coincidentally, they had also found a good location for a factory.


    Ternell was a border town, with endless fields and pastures stretching out beyond the suburbs. After several locations were rejected by Julian, Graf went outside the city to search for a suitable place and, surprisingly, found one.


    An old, rundown ranch.


    Due to mismanagement and the government''s wartime efforts to suppress skyrocketing food prices, a large number of cattle had been forcibly purchased by officials at extremely low prices. The ranch owner, having lost money, had borrowed funds to buy calves in hopes of raising them and recouping his losses. However, after two years, the situation had not improved, and debt collectors came knocking.


    With no sign of the ranch owner, the creditors took the cattle as repayment, leaving the rancher completely ruined.


    The creditors, who were ruthless, had threatened that if he didn''t repay his debt, they would sell his female family members to brothels. Fearing for the destruction of his family, the rancher put his property up for sale.


    He had no interest in maintaining the ranch. Weeds grew wildly, and the buildings were falling apart from neglect, scaring off any potential investors.

 Chapter 25 - 25 The Rundown Ranch

    Buying a ranch and rebuilding it wasn''t a great investment for anyone looking for short term profits. It was cheaper to just buy empty land.


    And so the ranch sat abandoned.


    That is, until Graf brought Julian there.


    "It''s pretty desolate!" Julian remarked as he looked at the waist high weeds, but in truth, he was very satisfied with the place.


    The ranch was next to a country road, and although the road conditions weren''t ideal, transportation wasn''t an issue. The location was secluded, surrounded by a few fields and barren land. It was so isolated that they hadn''t seen a single person for half a day. The overgrown weeds made it even more unlikely that anyone would come here without a specific reason.


    During distillation, some alcohol vapor would inevitably escape from the still, and if the strong scent lingered in a populated area, it could cause trouble. Without a proper license, any report would lead to a shutdown.


    The only problem now was that the dilapidated buildings couldn''t be used. They would need to be rebuilt, which was an additional expense. Fortunately, Mr. Heidler''s second payment arrived just in time, or Julian would have had to resort to means he didn''t want to use to raise cash.


    As they walked along a small path toward the rancher''s house, Julian asked, "How much debt does this guy owe? And what''s his asking price?"


    Graf, clearing the way ahead, replied, "I heard he owes 2,200 dollars, and he''s asking for 3,000."


    Julian frowned. After accounting for other expenses and Heidler''s money, he still had a shortfall of about 500 dollars. Realistically, he was facing a gap of 1,000 dollars, since he couldn''t leave himself without any emergency funds. He would need to keep at least 300 to 500 dollars on hand. Raising that 1,000 dollars in a short time wouldn''t be easy, but he would take it one step at a time.


    The two of them, along with two members of the Fellowship association, visited the rancher''s house.


    A woman in her thirties opened the door. She had blonde hair a clear sign of her Ordinians heritage. She had a decent figure and was fairly attractive, which explained why the creditors had threatened to sell her. Women like her, especially with blonde hair, were highly sought after in entertainment establishments.


    The Ordinians people had a certain nationalist arrogance, looking down on other "lesser races." So even in such establishments, customers who wanted intimate encounters would prefer Ordinians women.


    Others, who had been oppressed or scorned by the Ordinians people, would also likely choose an Ordinians woman for a night of indulgence, as if conquering them somehow alleviated their own resentment.


    If the woman had a daughter, the price would probably double!


    The woman eyed the visitors cautiously through the crack in the door, her gaze lingering on Graf, instinctively assuming that if this group was trouble, Graf would be the worst of them.


    Julian stepped forward with a friendly smile, "Good afternoon, ma''am. My name is Julian. I''ve come to inquire about the ranch. I heard it''s for sale, is that right?"


    The woman hesitated, then nodded. Her shoulder moved slightly behind the door, and the sound of footsteps could be faintly heard moving away.


    Sure enough, after about twenty seconds, heavy footsteps approached. The woman stepped aside, revealing a man. His golden brown hair and beard indicated that he was of mixed race, likely part Ordinians. He looked tired, with a weary expression. He peered through the door at the four visitors, his gaze finally resting on Graf.


    "Are you here to buy the ranch?" he asked.


    Graf felt a bit awkward. The women looked at him with wary eyes, while the men regarded him with a hint of hope. The problem was, he was not the one who could make decisions. So he took a step back, highlighting Julian''s status, and said, "This is our boss."


    The man''s face clearly displayed an expression of skepticism, but his eyes brightened. In this capital driven world, if a young person claimed to want to buy something valuable, there were only two possibilities.


    He was either a con artist or he was a decendent of a wealthy family.


    It was unlikely that someone could afford to hire a young man like Graf, who had a threatening appearance, if he were merely a con artist. Moreover, even if he were a con artist, there was nothing here that could catch his interest.


    Just like those traders who had previously inquired about prices, the high selling prices had dissuaded them; they would be better off buying empty land rather than overpaying for this desolate ranch.


    Of course, empty land was indeed cheaper, but there was a small problem: time.


    Buying land wasn''t a simple matter. Since a ranch tycoon had crazily enclosed land, causing public outrage, the Empire had become extremely cautious about selling land and imposed many formalities. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For example, if one wanted to buy a piece of empty land for developing a ranch or farmland, they first had to get approval from the "Star Empire Land Use Office." From submission to approval, if everything went smoothly, it would take about twenty days.


    Then, they would need to seek the votes of surrounding farmers, herders, and a few city residents for consent; a sixty percent approval rate was required to proceed to the next step.


    To buy a piece of empty land, regardless of the purpose, from initiation to completion would take no less than two to three months. This was also why Julian chose to come here, knowing that empty land was cheaper.


    He couldn''t wait that long otherwise, those three suppliers would go crazy, and he might even be sued for fraud.


    The man''s expression relaxed a bit as he unlocked the door from the inside and opened it. "Welcome! Regardless of whether we can come to a satisfactory conclusion, I welcome you."

 Chapter 26 - 26 Negotiation

    He stepped aside, and Graf, along with two members of the local association, stood outside the door. It would be pointless for them to enter; rather, it might affect Julian''s upcoming negotiations, so Graf wisely avoided such a situation by not going in.


    Julian followed the man inside the storage area. A woman stood aside, embracing a girl with golden brown hair, her eyes filled with longing as she gazed at Julian.


    They were desperate, having been driven into a corner by debt. In the spring of the previous year, they borrowed eight hundred dollars from a man named Morris in town to buy sixty calves and some necessities.


    Unexpectedly, in just two years, the eight hundred dollars had grown to three thousand. Recently, they had to sell the sixty calves, which might fetch two thousand dollars, only to cover the principal of eight hundred dollars and two thousand two hundred dollars in interest.


    They could no longer produce even a penny; they were at the end of their rope. The other party had threatened that if they could not gather the money by the end of the month, they would harm the women at home.


    After encountering several waves of businessmen who came and left, the family had already fallen into despair. The man had resolved to die. If the other party truly meant to act, he would definitely retaliate. Killing one or two, and then the whole family would leave together.


    Just as he was at his lowest point, he unexpectedly encountered a new twist.


    "My name is Huen," the man said, pouring a cup of inferior fruit wine for Julian. Generally, the farmers and herders in the countryside often brewed low quality alcohol themselves; whether it tasted good was unimportant, as it was one of their few pastimes.


    Julian raised his hand slightly to signal for the wine jug to be set down. Huen put the jug down, his hands nervously clasped together, fingers fidgeting, mirroring his anxious heart. "Actually... I know that this price won''t satisfy anyone, but it''s the last thing we can sell."


    He just nodded to indicate his understanding, and the man showed an expression of agreement, bitterly smiling as he asked, "How much can you offer?"


    Julian didn''t state any price but instead asked, "Can you tell me about that guy named Morris?"


    The man looked puzzled, but this might be his family''s last chance; whether it was a straw or something else, he had to seize it. "Morris is a local businessman who runs a deli at the corner of Seventh Avenue. He has some underlings who specifically ''help'' people in urgent need of money."


    From Huen''s description, Julian felt that this guy named Morris wasn''t too unscrupulous. The eight hundred dollars had turned into three thousand over two years; this kind of conscientious lender was genuinely "helping" those in financial distress. In Julian''s dream, those financial companies were the real sharks, turning a hundred dollars into millions in just two years. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    If anyone was unlucky, it was just that Huen had chosen the wrong investment direction.


    Of course, all this had nothing to do with him. He raised the cup to sip the slightly astringent fruit wine, which didn''t taste very good, before slowly putting it down. "Mr. Huen, I think I understand. If I decide to buy your farm, you are certain you will pay Morris?"


    He took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and slowly said, "I don''t want to be involved in any troubles."


    Huen nodded vigorously. "Of course, sir, I also want to end this as soon as possible and return to my hometown to start a new life." Huen''s eyes sparkled; he had now realized that Julian was very likely to buy his farm, which was excellent news for him.


    Once he was freed from heavy debts and had a bit of money in hand, he could completely go to another city to become a carpenter or start farming or herding on some empty land.


    Julian pondered for a moment and said, "Out of sympathy for your situation, I''ll offer you a maximum of one thousand eight hundred dollars." At this moment, Huen''s face suddenly changed. As he was about to say something, Julian raised his hand to stop him.


    "If buying a piece of empty land of the same size as your ranch would cost only one thousand five hundred dollars, you should also understand that due to your neglect in management and repairs, your ranch is hardly different from empty land."


    "I''ll use the extra three hundred dollars to buy two months for the approval process. To put it simply, you''ve made a profit, after all; no job can earn you and your family three hundred dollars in just two months."


    Seeing Julian fall silent, Huen quickly interjected, "But I owe Morris two thousand two hundred dollars, and we''ll need transportation fees to leave here; starting a new life requires some money¡­"


    Julian chuckled and shook his head. "You''ve misunderstood something, sir. The money you owe Morris is your debt to him, not mine. I only need this farm, not to pay your debts or give you extra money to start a new life. If you''re willing to sell this ranch for one thousand eight hundred dollars, you can find me at 117 Queen Avenue."


    As Julian was about to leave, Huen''s hands slowly formed fists, his arms trembling. Just as Julian had one foot out the door, he suddenly stood up and shouted, "Wait!" When Julian turned back in confusion, Huen took a deep breath to steady his trembling voice. "I want to discuss it with my wife."


    "No problem. I''ll wait outside for a bit; you have five minutes."


    As the door slowly closed, sealing the gap, Huen''s wife and daughter walked over from the adjacent dining area. The woman wore a worried expression; the real reason Huen had tried to keep Julian was that Julian''s price was already the highest among those who had inquired.


    Before Julian arrived, the highest offer had been only one thousand six hundred, with many others bidding between one thousand two hundred and one thousand four hundred.

 Chapter 27 - 27 An Act Of Kindness

    They had calculated that Huen was in urgent need of money to save his family, taking advantage of his plight to try to buy this ranch, which spanned four hundred eighty acres, at an extremely low price!


    As for what would happen with the remaining money after selling the land, it was not something those businessmen considered.


    Just as Julian said, they were all businessmen, not philanthropists.


    "What should we do?" Huen''s wife leaned against him, holding their daughter. The enormous interest had pushed the woman to the brink of collapse. If they couldn''t gather enough money by the end of the month, she would choose to commit suicide to protect her dignity. Of course, she would take their daughter with her, ensuring her child wouldn''t have to suffer in this world any longer.


    Even Huen had made a resolution to die before Julian arrived.


    But hope had unexpectedly appeared, bringing a sudden change to the desperate family that was prepared to gamble their lives. One thousand eight hundred dollars was only four hundred dollars short of the two thousand two hundred they owed. Four hundred dollars was indeed a lot, but it didn''t mean there was no way out.


    The daughter looked at her sorrowful parents and suddenly asked, "Why can''t we sell it twice?"


    Before Huen could react to what she said, his wife quickly crouched down and tightly grasped their daughter''s shoulders, asking, "Did you just say we could sell it twice? Am I hearing you right? Selling it twice?"


    The daughter nodded and recounted the events that had happened at her school in recent days.


    In her rural school, there was a classmate who came from a decent family and loved to read comics. This classmate often sold the comics he had read at depreciated prices to other students and would use the money to buy new comics.


    A couple of days ago, this classmate was called away by a teacher, and later everyone learned that he had promised to sell a comic to Student A but lost the money for the comic on his way home. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The classmate who suffered the loss was unwilling to lose both the money and the comic, so he secretly sold the comic to Student B instead...


    Huen and his wife exchanged glances, falling into a long silence...


    ...


    "Did you reach an agreement?" Seeing Julian walk out, Graf immediately stood up straight from where he was leaning against the doorpost. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and handed it to Julian, lighting it for him.


    Julian took a puff, shook his head, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. With confidence, he said, "Not yet, but they will agree!"


    It was not surprising for him to have such a conjecture. Through simple descriptions from Huen, Julian had already formed a preliminary understanding of the kind hearted person named Morris. He was a guy who wouldn''t lend money without demanding high interest; in other words, the loan sharks in this society had not yet sunk to the point of being irredeemable.


    Morris was a gang member who also employed some thugs.


    Their task was to provide sufficient funds for the gang''s development. Of course, it was possible that this business belonged to Morris himself. But regardless of the details, Huen absolutely dared not default on the money he owed. Otherwise, when Morris previously took his cattle, he would have stood up and confronted him.


    He feared Morris to the extent that even if his own interests were infringed upon, he did not dare to complain. People like him might say some harsh words or have some resolute thoughts under enormous pressure, but that was merely their wishful thinking. If we were to describe such people in dream like terms, they would be deemed cowardly.


    Julian did not dare to claim that he was their only savior. Eighteen hundred dollars was indeed still short of two thousand two hundred. However, this gap offered them sufficient hope. Was four hundred dollars a lot? If they worked honestly, it might take two years to gather that amount, and all three of them would need reasonably good jobs.


    But if they were not honest in their earnings and took a few shortcuts, it was certainly possible to gather that four hundred dollars in a short time.


    Huen now faced such a choice: either sell the ranch to Julian and find a way to make up the four hundred dollars, or cling to the ranch and die with his family, after which Julian would buy the ranch back from Morris at a relatively low price. Why inquire about whom Huen owed money to? Wasn''t it just to ensure that after this family perished, he could find a new owner for the ranch to buy it?


    Moreover, Julian believed that even if he offered sixteen hundred dollars, Morris would not refuse, because Morris was a loan shark, not some foundation, and did not engage in risk averse investments. What he needed was money cash immediately usable for trading!


    Before long, the door of the house opened from the inside, and Huen stepped out, looking haggard. He gazed at Julian with a complicated expression and sighed, "You win, sir. Eighteen hundred dollars. I''ll sell it to you. When can we get the money?"


    Julian took the cigarette from his mouth, threw it to the ground, crushed it with his foot, and extended his hand, saying, "Pleasure doing business. Tomorrow, bring the proof to the city. Once the paperwork is completed, you can get your money. For now, I won''t disturb your rest. Farewell!"


    Julian nodded and left with a smile. A premium of three hundred dollars exchanged for a time advantage was quite a profitable deal. As for how Huen and his family would gather the remaining four hundred dollars after selling the house tomorrow, that was no longer a concern for Julian.


    Upon returning to the city, three suppliers informed him through a messenger that their first batch of ten thousand bottles of wine would be shipped here in a week, and they hoped he would be ready to receive the goods.

 Chapter 28 - 28 Something Is Wrong

    Early the next morning, Huen came to Julian, who had just awakened, with proof of ownership for his farm. The two went to the "Land Use Office" in Ternell City to complete the transfer registration for the land asset.


    The process was not complicated, both parties signed a sale and transfer contract, confirming that Huen was selling his farm to Julian for eighteen hundred dollars, and they both signed and stamped their fingerprints. Once each party had a copy of the document and the Land Use Office had filed their copy, the land belonged to Julian.


    He handed eighteen hundred dollars to Huen and had him sign a receipt.


    Watching Huen quickly leave the office, Julian beckoned with his finger, and immediately a young man dressed in a shirt and suspenders, wearing a checkered flat cap, ran over. This young man had fair skin, thick eyebrows, and big eyes, looking quite handsome. His name was Dave, a sprightly lad and a member of the local community association.


    He lowered his head and stood behind Julian on his right side. "President?" S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian nodded and lifted his chin. "Take a few people to keep an eye on him. See where he goes. If he goes to find that guy named Morris, come back. If he goes straight outside the city, capture him and send him to Morris. Tell Morris he''s got money now."


    The purpose of this was to prevent Huen from running away after receiving the money. Julian could easily imagine that once Morris discovered his two thousand two hundred dollars were missing, in his anger and despair, he would certainly blame Julian for it.


    Although the complete paperwork could prove that he had bought the ranch from Huen, Morris would not hesitate to extort Julian to recover his losses.


    Julian was not afraid of trouble, but that did not mean he was willing to actively seek it out, so it was better to keep an eye on things.


    Dave stepped outside and whistled, and immediately four or five young men of similar age and attire approached. Passersby occasionally shot them disdainful looks. If it weren''t for the knives poking out of their pockets as they walked, silencing everyone, someone would have probably scolded them by now. The excitement on these young men''s faces suggested they believed they were doing something great.


    They followed closely behind Huen, tracking him to Seventh Street, where he entered a familiar deli.


    "Dave, is our task just to follow him?" one of his companions asked.


    Dave was relatively well known among the local youth, having served time in juvenile prison for a year due to assault. He had stabbed a drunken man attempting to assault his sister thirty times, nearly killing him. If not for the circumstances and Mr. Heidler hiring a lawyer for him, he might not have been released for eleven years, let alone one.


    That drunken man had survived at first, but died days later from organ failure.


    Thus, Dave held significant sway among his peers, and everyone followed his lead.


    He nodded, saying, "The president ordered me to keep an eye on him. If he meets Morris, we''ll return. If he goes directly out of town, we''ll grab him."


    As he spoke, Huen emerged from the deli in under five minutes, which seemed a bit too quick. Dave straightened up, tilted his head to his companions, and said, "Something''s not right. You all stay here and keep an eye on him.


    I''ll go see if Morris is around." His companions didn''t know how Dave intended to check if Morris was there, but they had an inexplicable trust in him, so they immediately vowed to watch Huen closely.


    After arranging things, Dave walked a few steps down the sidewalk, opened the mailbox in front of a house, pulled out an envelope, and ran back toward the deli.


    Upon entering the deli, Dave glanced at the room''s layout. Behind a counter selling smoked meats and hams, there was only one door. He lowered his flat cap a bit and walked toward it.


    At that moment, someone blocked his way. "Hey, kid, don''t wander around!"


    Dave raised the envelope in his hand. "Someone sent me here to deliver a letter to a gentleman named Morris."


    The deli employee, who had stopped him, reached out to grab it, but Dave dodged backward, avoiding his hand. "That won''t do, sir. The person who sent me said it must be handed to Mr. Morris himself, and he would also give me ten cents!"


    If Dave had only said the first half, the employee would have insisted on taking it. But when Dave mentioned the ten cent reward, the employee withdrew his hand and cleared a path. "Turn left when you go in, the last room is it. Don''t steal anything, and don''t wander around!"


    Dave smiled, nodded, and walked in. "I''m not a thief!"


    Once inside, he looked around. To the right was a cold storage room, and to the left was a corridor about ten meters long, with doors on both sides. At the end of the corridor, there was also a door. He jogged to the innermost left room and knocked on the door. A voice called out from inside, "Come in."


    He opened the door, peeking inside. The room was small, featuring a large table, a set of worn out sofas, and a coffee table.


    On the coffee table lay a lot of coins, and three shady looking individuals were counting money. Behind the large table sat a man in a white suit with a pink shirt, slicked hair, and his feet propped up on the table.


    He glanced at Dave, raising an eyebrow. "What''s up?"


    Dave raised the envelope in his hand and shook it. "Someone sent me here to deliver a letter to a gentleman named Morris. Is Mr. Morris here?"


    The slick haired man lowered his feet, looking at Dave with curiosity, and introduced himself, "I am Morris. Who sent you?"

 Chapter 29 - 29 Filling Holes Before Entering The Market

    Dave placed the envelope on the table. "I don''t know, sir. He said you would give me ten cents."


    Morris paused, then casually grabbed two coins from the table and tossed them at Dave. Dave caught the coins and smiled, saying, "You''re very generous, sir," before turning to leave the room.


    Morris, somewhat puzzled, watched the door close behind Dave, then focused on the envelope. The envelope was placed upside down, obscuring the sender and recipient. He didn''t pay much attention, directly taking a letter opener and cutting it open, then began to read the letter.


    The more he read, the stranger his expression became. Finally, unable to contain himself, he crumpled the letter into a ball. "Bastard, he actually tricked me! Go grab that kid back!"


    ...


    "Julian!"


    "Graf!"


    "You two, come here!"


    Mr. Kreen was livid, standing outside the office on the second floor and roaring at the just returned Julian and Graf. He could no longer tolerate the situation. He had once considered suing Graf and Julian, thinking that since they were unwilling to continue working, he could let them go with fifty dollars each.


    However, he quickly dismissed this idea; these two clearly looked like poor people without money. If they couldn''t come up with fifty dollars as a penalty, they would definitely end up in jail, eating prison food for at least three months.


    Mr. Kreen was a businessman, a capitalist who invested in the railway in this section of Ternell City. He was both a member of the Star Empire Railway Union and a shareholder in this section. His purpose was to make money, not to get into arguments with people. He had shut the door on them, as he feared that if Graf held a grudge, he would definitely cause trouble.


    Therefore, he decided to have a good talk with these two, but he waited in vain.


    He even pinched his nose and went to the worker''s quarters, only to find that the two guys hadn''t even returned for the night!


    What truly drove him to his limits was their lax attitude towards absenteeism. Workers, whether in factories or at this station, basically had no freedom under the oppression and exploitation of capitalists. To put it more deeply, the slave mentality of workers had been stimulated; after long term restrictions imposed by rules and systems aimed at them, they had lost the desire to resist.


    On a shallower level, it meant that money was supreme, and for meager wages, they had to lower their heads and obey the oppression and exploitation of capitalists.


    Few people would want to change anything and take action personally, but Julian and Graf did, and they did it so openly. They had brought this carefree attitude from the outside into the station. Already, six or seven workers had also taken leave without notifying Mr. Kreen.


    Mr. Kreen believed that if this issue was not properly resolved, this trend of carefree behavior would continue to spread, potentially infecting all the workers at some point. By then, his station would basically be finished.


    Thus, the most important issue now was not the lack of manpower, but to set an example with these two, making it clear to the other workers that if they did not follow the rules, the only outcome would be to pack up and leave, and they would have to pay a sum of money.


    After buying the ranch, Julian was no longer anxious. He had arranged for Dave to gather some members to help him build a house. The house didn''t need to be particularly beautiful; it just needed to provide shelter from the wind and rain and have a sufficiently wide entrance.


    His plan was to tear down several dilapidated sheds on the ranch and rebuild them according to the original structure, with the guidance of two carpenters, ensuring the warehouse would be ready before the wine arrived.


    Once he arranged for these workers, Julian returned to the station with Graf. This time, they were not there to work but to execute the clauses regarding breach of contract. In simple terms, they were there to deliver money and then leave.


    It wasn''t that Julian was afraid of Mr. Kreen and felt compelled to deliver the money. Rather, the business he was engaged in was not particularly legitimate, and he would inevitably face various suppliers in Ternell City in the future. Before fighting against his enemies, he needed to check whether his armor, weapons, and shields were intact. The same process applied to battles in the marketplace.


    If his opponents suddenly caught him for failing to fulfill the contract, causing Mr. Kreen to sue him, he would not only be fined but might also face imprisonment.


    Therefore, he needed to fill all the holes in his defenses and not give his future opponents any opportunities.


    After Mr. Kreen stood on the second floor yelling, he withdrew his head, facing the gazes of onlookers, some of whom were laughing at him, while others looked concerned. Julian felt no ripple in his heart.


    Outside was a complex, large society, and within this station, there was also a similarly complex small society. It was entirely normal for some people not to like Julian, just as there were those who did not like Graf; there was nothing unusual about it.


    In more enclosed environments, the desire for people to climb upward becomes more intense.


    After going up to the second floor with Graf, they entered Mr. Kreen''s office. Mr. Kreen sat behind his desk, his fists resting on the table. He looked furious, his face reddening, and his neck bulging. He suppressed the rage that threatened to erupt, lowly hissing, "What do you want..."


    As he spoke halfway, his mind froze. He saw Julian walk directly to his desk, pull out a roll of colorful bills from his pocket, and place fifteen bills on the table, then pushed them forward. The scent of the ink wafting from those delightful little notes led him to conclude that these must be real money, a smell he was very familiar with, having encountered it daily.


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 Chapter 30 - 30 The Wealthy Deserve Respect And Privilege

    He glanced at the roll of money Julian put back into his pocket, estimating that there were still more than two hundred, maybe less than three hundred. He stacked the bills on the table, picked them up, and examined each one carefully. No doubt, they were real money¡ªten-dollar bills from the Empire. The front displayed the imperial royal emblem, while the back depicted the AT-11 cleaning war machine.


    His fingertips glided over the printed portions, fully feeling the unique texture from the engravings, confirming it was the real deal!


    Holding the money with some confusion, he looked up at Julian. Julian casually pulled out a chair and sat down. "Mr. Kreen, I sincerely thank you for providing me with a place to rest and eat when I was at my wits'' end. It changed my life.


    "The extra fifty dollars is my personal way of expressing gratitude for your help when I needed it the most. This is my heartfelt appreciation, so I hope you will accept it. Additionally, I would like you to write a receipt and declare the contract void."


    At this moment, Mr. Kreen finally regained his senses. He looked at Julian with a complex expression, unsure where this lucky kid had found a source of wealth. From the way he acted so generously, it was clear that fifty dollars might no longer be a significant amount in his eyes.


    As a capitalist, Mr. Kreen held a profound reverence for capitalism. If Julian were a poor boy, he would have shown his disdain and leaned forward, spitting on Julian''s face. But now, Julian was a wealthy man, and Mr. Kreen had to act in accordance with his status and that of his counterpart¡ªelegantly and nobly, without being vulgar.


    After considering it, he nodded, took out a piece of pure white stationery, and wrote a receipt for one hundred dollars with a pen soaked in ink, adding the date, signing it, and stamping it. Then he turned around and retrieved Julian and Graf''s contract from a filing cabinet, applying a rarely used "void" stamp on every page multiple times.


    From this moment on, Julian and Graf had no further ties to the station.


    Julian greatly appreciated Mr. Kreen''s decisiveness and extended his hand for a handshake. "Speaking of which, we will be doing business again. In about six days, two thousand five hundred boxes of low alcohol wine will arrive from other places. I hope to store them at the station''s warehouse for a couple more days, as I need to arrange transportation."


    Mr. Kreen was taken aback. Two thousand five hundred boxes of low alcohol wine, even at the lowest price of six dollars a box, made him gasp. He extended his other hand, gripping Julian''s right hand tightly, a "sweet" smile appearing on his face. "No problem, absolutely no problem. Customer requests are our service''s core principle.


    Any goods that arrive will have a three day waiting period for transfer. If it exceeds that limit, it''s fine; the cost of a warehouse is only a trivial five dollars a day."


    "Also, Mr. Julian might not know, but my son is in the transportation business!"


    The power of capital is boundless yet silent.


    This huge leap from Julian to Mr. Julian was accomplished with just one hundred fifty dollars and two thousand five hundred boxes of goods. Money permeates every layer of society, and the scariest part is that people often fail to realize how money subtly influences their judgment and thoughts at all times.


    "That''s even better. I''ll come back again once the goods arrive," Mr. Kreen said, mentioning his son, and Julian remembered the school he had mentioned. "By the way, you mentioned there was a school that could teach me literacy?"


    "Yes, there is such a thing," Mr. Kreen immediately loosened his hands, took a business card from his drawer, and handed it over with both hands.


    Julian took it and glanced; it was not far from where he currently lived. In his dreams, something had always said, "Knowledge changes destiny," and he deeply believed in that. Knowledge is a formidable thing, just like money. When you don''t have it, you might not feel any difference between yourself and others. But once you possess knowledge, you realize that you may not be the same as others. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After bidding farewell to Mr. Kreen, Julian took Graf to the so called "tutoring class." Not only did he need to learn to read, but Graf also needed to, as did Dave and all illiterate members of their community association.


    What he aimed to do was definitely not business in Ternell City, nor was it to sell low-alcohol wine; he needed a team that could help him reach the pinnacle of the world. He wanted to be a member of the ruling class in this world!


    ...


    The literacy class has been arranged, costing a considerable sum of money, and with Mr. Kreen''s support, his daughter is very attentive. In this capitalist world, the wealthy deserve respect and privilege in society; after all, money is people''s father.


    During the day, Julian was busy watching the blacksmith create large distillers, purchasing some necessary equipment and tools, and at night he attended the literacy class with his fellowship assosiation members. It must be said that compared to the square characters in the dream world, the letters in this world are indeed not difficult to learn.


    It''s just like how people can speak, if you know enough letters and understand how to spell them, reading becomes basically no problem.


    What remains is to increase reading volume, memorize more vocabulary, and practice writing. Every member of the fellowship knows that such an opportunity is hard to come by, knowledge, like money, is an expensive resource.


    For a rapid literacy class like this, everyone needs to pay fifteen bucks in tuition, which is truly an astronomical figure for these youths, at least before they joined the fellowship.


    Whenever they have a little money in their pockets, they will hand it over to their parents at home to improve their living conditions, buy a piece or two of clothing for their younger siblings, or treat them to some good food. Therefore, when it comes to learning literacy and writing, every youth takes it very seriously, no one needs to remind them, and they absorb knowledge like sponges.

 Chapter 31 - 31 A Valuable Lesson

    Except for Graf.


    "Oh God, I think I''m going crazy!" Graf, who had secretly hidden a bottle of wine in the classroom, sat in the back row. Staring at the twisted letters on the blackboard, he felt his head was about to explode. Through bleary eyes, he glanced at Julian, who was very serious next to him, and asked, "Will learning this help me make more money?"


    Julian tilted his head and thought seriously for a moment before shaking his head. "No, learning to read and write won''t help you make more money!"


    Graf burped and exhaled a foul stench of alcohol. "Then why should I learn it?"


    "At least it''ll allow you to live with dignity and grace."


    Graf laughed again. "Didn''t we say before that once we make money, we''ll let those school kids be our assistants, and then hire some well educated female secretaries? Isn''t that more dignified?"


    This time, Julian nodded. He couldn''t wake up someone who was drunk and unwilling to sober up, nor did he feel the need to change someone else''s perspective.


    There was a saying in his dream that resonated well: "Do not impose on others what you do not desire." In simpler terms, since he was not someone who wished to be controlled, he would not easily try to control those who did not want to be controlled, barring special circumstances.


    If Graf did not want to become a cultured person, or at least someone who could read a newspaper fluently, that was his business. After spending these past few days with Graf, Julian felt he had seen through him. He was an aimless person, his most suitable job would be to be a freeloader, wandering the streets all day, bragging, and drinking.


    But it must be said that Graf had helped him, especially with that forty bucks and some other small matters.


    When it came to friendship, Julian held it in some regard. As long as Graf had not let him down, he would certainly be his friend.


    On the contrary, in recent days, he had been very optimistic about a young man named Dave. Perhaps it was related to Dave having served time in prison, it was precisely because he had tasted helplessness and bitterness that he could understand the value of opportunity. Whether it was getting things done or sitting here learning to read and study some words, Dave was the most earnest.


    Serious people may not necessarily succeed, but those who are not serious¡­ He glanced at Graf and thought that was destined to fail.


    On the fifth day, Julian instructed Dave to oversee the construction of the farm shed while he supervised various blacksmiths in the city making different parts of the distiller. Just then, Dave suddenly ran over. This was something that had never happened before; no matter what Julian assigned to Dave, he had always completed it meticulously and never left the task he was supposed to do.


    Something must have happened at the farm.


    After briefly speaking to the blacksmith, he stepped out of the workshop. The cold air outside hit him in the face, making him feel momentarily breathless as the temperature shifted. He pulled out a cigarette and tossed one to Dave, lighting one for himself as well. When they reached the roadside, Julian asked, "What''s the rush? What happened?"


    Dave leaned in after taking a puff of his cigarette and lowered his voice. "Morris has come with some people. He made a fuss for a while, saying that Huen had mortgaged the ranch to him, and he wants to see you."


    Julian''s brows furrowed instantly, the thing he most dreaded had happened. He had previously praised Dave for being very sharp, noting that he even went into the deli to check if Morris was there after seeing Huen enter. In Julian''s view, since Huen had gone, Morris would never let him leave without money. But now, the problem had indeed arisen, the question was which link had gone wrong.


    While he was deep in thought, Dave stepped back a little, so as not to disturb Julian''s contemplation.


    After about four or five minutes, Julian finally crushed the cigarette butt, which had burned down to the filter, onto the ground, making it bounce slightly and send sparks flying.


    He figured it out, Huen must have given Morris a portion of the money, temporarily appeasing him, and then falsely claimed that he had mortgaged the ranch to Morris. After Morris received a certain amount of money plus the value of the ranch, he likely agreed to this arrangement. After clearing the debt, Huen had already taken his family and some meager belongings back to his hometown four days ago.


    Damn it!


    He kicked the nearby lamp post angrily, causing a muffled thud that drew the attention of passersby.


    Julian took a deep breath and summoned Dave over. He took out a roll of money from his pocket, counted out fifty bucks, and shoved it into Dave''s hand. "Here, immediately arrange for someone to find out where Huen and his wife''s hometown is, and then find them to get our money back."


    He took another step forward, almost pressing up against Dave, and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pressing it down. "Take weapons, just in case!"


    Dave nodded vigorously, turned around, and ran off.


    Julian stood alone in place, a surge of unnamed anger rising within him as he kicked the lamp post a few more times.


    He was genuinely angry. He felt he had done very well, knowing that by the end of the month, Huen''s ranch would belong to Morris and that he could buy it back from Morris at a much lower price.


    Yet he believed he should give Huen''s family a way out, a chance. So, he bought that worthless ranch at a premium of three hundred bucks.


    But what did his kindness bring him?


    Deceit and lies!


    That damn guy must be feeling quite pleased with himself now, right? With several hundred or even a thousand bucks, he freed himself from the burden of debt and returned home to live a carefree life?


    I''m so stupid!


    Julian slapped himself, and this incident made him realize that in this cruel world, any hint of kindness could potentially be exploited! S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 32 - 32 The Golden Crystal Bar

    At that moment, a police officer walked by, frowning as he looked at Julian. "Kid, did you kick the lamp post? According to imperial law, damaging public property is punishable. Do you know¡­" sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian looked at the officer as if he were a snarling dog. Without waiting for him to finish, he impatiently pulled out a roll of one-dollar bills from the other pocket of his pants, casually tossed five bills on the ground, and turned to leave.


    The officer initially wanted to teach this impolite young man a lesson, but upon seeing the five bills starting to flutter in the wind on the ground, he immediately abandoned his previous thoughts, bent down, and picked them up, stuffing them into his pocket.


    He adjusted his police hat and continued patrolling his territory with an air of arrogance as before.


    Just like¡­ a dog circling around its own territory!


    At around seven in the evening, as the city lights began to illuminate, the remote small town of Ternell revealed a different beauty under the glow.


    The dim streetlights cast fleeting shadows of pedestrians, adding a unique charm to the atmosphere.


    The Golden Crystal Bar is located on 14th Street in Ternell, situated in the eastern part of the city near the north, making it part of the outer core of the city. It is a mid range bar, designed and constructed by a professional team, boasting a decent style. Additionally, the bar is known for its excellent security, making it an attractive place for the middle class to enjoy their leisure.


    It is said that the owner of Golden Crystal was once a big boss of a gang but was later arrested and imprisoned for some reason. After serving his sentence, he did not return to the gang; instead, he opened this bar with his savings. This bar is located in the territory of his former gang, and leveraging his past connections and status, few would dare to cause trouble here.


    Simultaneously, other gangs often choose Golden Crystal as a location for negotiations or transactions.


    Gradually, Golden Crystal Bar became the most unique bar in Ternell.


    The first floor is filled with ordinary customers, while the second floor is often a gathering place for gang members, with the owner of Golden Crystal becoming a well known intermediary.


    Dave informed Julian about Golden Crystal. During his time in prison, Dave had interacted with many gang members and made several acquaintances, but he never joined any gang.


    On one hand, the populist atmosphere within the gangs was more pronounced, and the disdain and contempt the Ordinians people held for other failed races was strong; they were unwilling to let the Guar people "pollute" their gangs.


    On the other hand, some gangs that extended invitations to Dave were not interested in his future but hoped he could become a sharp blade in their hands to assist them in dangerous tasks.


    In this situation, Dave would certainly refuse. Even if he was forced to walk this path in the future, he hoped to join a Guar gang, such as the fellowship.


    To Dave, the fellowship was a gang; it was just that this gang understood better how to hide its claws.


    Julian brought Graf and Dave along for the meeting, and the three entered Golden Crystal Bar. When the doorman saw Julian and Dave, he briefly blocked their way. According to imperial law, minors under the age of sixteen are prohibited from entering bars.


    Despite this law being trampled countless times by bar owners and the sight of underage girls seeking thrills in nearly every bar, there are times when superficial work still needs to be done.


    "This place doesn''t welcome minors!"


    Julian remained silent, gazing at the person blocking his way. Graf stepped up from behind, pushing the man''s arm aside. The man stumbled back a step and instinctively hid his hand behind his back, "What are you blocking for? Don''t you see this is our chairman?"


    The man, who was about to reach for something, paused, then pulled his hand out, his face turning cold. "A chairman this small? Heh¡­ your gang is something else!" He shrugged his shoulders, adjusted his clothes, and said, "Go on in, but remember, don''t cause any trouble. Otherwise, no one can save you."


    Julian looked at him; the guy stared straight ahead as if unaware Julian was watching him. Julian shook his head with a smile, turning his gaze away and walking straight into the bar.


    The atmosphere in the bar was relaxed, with blue lights illuminating everything inside without being harsh, creating a unique ambiance. To the left upon entering was a staircase. After climbing the stairs, they encountered four people blocking the way at the top.


    One of them carefully scrutinized the three ascending the stairs, revealing a hint of a smile. "You must be from the fellowship, right? Morris is already here, waiting for you. Please hand over any weapons or similar items; this is to ensure everyone''s safety, and I hope you understand."


    This is why many people are willing to use this place as a transaction or negotiation spot; the boss of Golden Crystal can ensure the safety of both parties, making people willing to trade and negotiate here.


    Graf handed over the dagger he had on him and stepped aside. Dave pulled out a small knife, about ten centimeters long, from his pocket and also surrendered it. After a thorough search, the three were allowed to proceed together. While being searched was not a pleasant experience, Julian could understand it and was also very interested in the boss of Golden Crystal.


    Negotiations like his with Morris require a payment of fifty bucks; this fee is split among the participating factions. This means Julian needed to pay twenty five bucks. It was not a large sum; all the gangs could afford it, and as long as he could guarantee safety, twenty five bucks was a reasonable price.


    With the staff''s guidance, they arrived at the third room. After knocking on the door, the staff waited for about half a minute before opening it and standing outside.

 Chapter 33 - 33 Unresolvable Conflict

    Julian stepped inside first and immediately spotted the person Dave had described, a slick haired, powdered face. Morris was dressed in a purple suit with white shoes and appeared to be wearing makeup. He lounged on the sofa with his legs crossed on the coffee table. Upon seeing Julian enter, he showed no inclination to stand, boldly staring at him.


    There were two strong looking individuals beside him, with tattooed wrists exposed outside their sleeves, one of whom had a noticeable scar across his face.


    "So, you are Julian?" Morris grinned, looking Julian up and down rudely, disdain evident on his face. "Are you the one who wanted to talk to me? I don''t see a need for a conversation, just hand over the land, and you won''t have to worry about anything!"


    The sofa in the room was long, resembling a sideways C. Julian sat across from Morris, crossed his legs, and clasped his hands together on his knee. He examined Morris in turn, seemingly ignoring Morris''s arrogant words. After about ten seconds, Julian finally spoke: "Huen has already sold his farm to me, and it has been registered and approved by the imperial land office.


    I am the rightful owner of that land, so I have no need to go anywhere."


    "On the contrary, it''s you, Mr. Morris, who has a debt dispute with Huen. That should not involve my private property. Regarding what happened during the day, I can consider it an unintentional offense due to your ignorance, and I have forgiven you."


    Morris paused briefly after hearing this, then burst into laughter. He pointed at Julian and turned to his henchman, "Did you hear that? Did you hear? My God, a kid is actually threatening me? Hahaha¡­" The laughter didn''t last long before he stopped, retracting his legs and leaning forward with one arm resting on his thigh.


    "I don''t care what transaction you have going on; all I know is that Huen has used that land as collateral for his debts to me."


    "That''s impossible, Mr. Morris! I would never pay for a ranch that belongs to me a second time!" Julian shifted in his seat. "Moreover, I''ve already sent someone to find Huen, and it won''t be long before he returns. At that time, you can clear things up directly between yourselves."


    Morris shrugged, "You either give me the land or give me the money. There''s no other option, kid!"


    "Is there no room for negotiation?" After Julian asked, Morris immediately shook his head.


    After all, it was sixteen hundred bucks, not one hundred sixty, and certainly not sixteen. This amount had to go to the gang as development funds. Besides, in his mind, what was Julian? He wasn''t even qualified to bargain with someone of his stature; the smart choice would be to obediently admit defeat.


    At this point, Morris stood up from the sofa and walked over to Julian, glancing at Graf, who had taken a few steps forward, and scoffed. He patted Julian on the shoulder. "Remember, I''m only giving you three days," he said before tossing his head back, leaving with his men.


    Julian leaned back on the sofa, gazing at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, pursing his lips as he contemplated for a moment, unable to resist smiling.


    As he laughed, shaking his head, he realized this situation could be resolved in a very peaceful and friendly manner. As long as Huen''s family was captured and brought back, Morris would surely find a way to liquidate them. Besides, Huen had at least a thousand bucks in cash and some other slightly valuable items.


    If a mother and daughter were sold together in a certain place, four hundred bucks would only be a month''s worth.


    However, it was clear that Morris looked down on him, so what Julian considered a peaceful and friendly resolution became a nuisance in Morris''s eyes.


    People like him had long been accustomed to bullying others with their power. Whether or not Julian had any prominent background, he certainly believed he could manipulate him at will!


    Julian slapped his legs and stood up, walking toward the door.


    Just wait and see, Mr. Morris!


    ...


    "Mason, you passed the assessment."


    Mr. Kesma casually tossed a heavy file folder onto the table. Just as he had predicted, once one pup crawled out of the nest, the remaining ones were unlikely to stay behind. Their curiosity about the world would drive them to overcome all challenges and difficulties, bravely crawling out.


    After Julian left home, the first to step up was Mr. Kesma''s eldest son, Mason Kesma. Secretly, he took a "resume" he had written to the town, wanting to become a policeman or something of the sort. He listed all the achievements he could proudly boast of in his life and spent twenty cents to have an old town drunkard, who could still write, jot it down on paper for him. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Under the cover of darkness, he slipped the paper under the sheriff''s door.


    He wanted to be a policeman, or even better, a sheriff. After all, for kids in the countryside, policemen wearing uniforms and badges were just too cool. If he could become a cop, many girls would undoubtedly fall for him, and every time he thought of that, Mason couldn''t sleep out of excitement.


    Somehow, the news got out. Mason figured it was probably the old drunkard, who always blurted out everything he knew when he was drunk. Soon, the whole town knew he wanted to be a cop.


    Mr. Kesma, who was the last to find out, wasn''t as angry as when Julian chose to leave the family and venture out on his own. Instead, he calmly called Mason outside and looked at him seriously. "Mason, my boy, are you sure you want to become a policeman and not inherit my farm?"


    Mason was a bit scared. In the household, Mr. Kesma''s authority surpassed even the church, so Mason was terrified. But when he recalled Julian''s resolute departure, he realized this was his only chance. If he backed down now, he would never escape this life that felt like a shackle, and eventually, he''d end up like Mr. Kesma, a farmer spending his whole life in the countryside.

 Chapter 34 - 34 Kevin Romais

    That wasn''t the life he wanted. He didn''t want to be a farmer¡ªhe wanted to fight back!


    So, he nodded vigorously. "Yes, Father, I want to be a policeman, a sheriff, and one day I''ll go to the city and become the chief of police. I don''t like farming¡ªI hate the smell of manure."


    Mr. Kesma''s mouth curled into an awkward smile as he patted Mason on the shoulder. "I let Julian leave to chase his dreams, so I can''t stop you from finding your path either. I agree, but you need to understand one thing¡ªwhen it''s time for the harvest, you''ll still need to come back and help us.


    You can take your things and head to the police station now, but remember to come back for dinner every day."


    Mason was trembling with excitement. He had never imagined the strict Mr. Kesma, who never allowed anyone to go against him, would be so open minded. Tears of joy almost welled up in his eyes as he repeatedly thanked him, clasping his hands and kissing his thumbs in gratitude.


    Mr. Kesma jokingly scolded him, giving him a light smack on the head. "If you don''t go pack now, you''ll end up spending another night in this place you don''t like."


    "I''ll go pack right now!" Mason dashed into the small attic to gather his belongings. Mrs. Kesma, puzzled, looked at Mr. Kesma, whose eyes revealed a touch of understanding as he began to explain.


    "You can never force a cow to drink water by shoving its head down, even if you drown it in the trough. If it doesn''t want to drink, it won''t drink."


    Mason quickly packed a few simple belongings. It wasn''t cold yet, so all he needed was a light blanket. He grabbed the file folder from the table, containing his badge and some documents. After hugging Mr. and Mrs. Kesma and saying goodbye to his siblings, he immediately left home.


    Mr. Kesma sat back in the chair that symbolized his position as head of the household, crossing his legs with an amused smirk.


    "What a fool. Julian left for a far off city, and this one? He''s still in town and has lightened the family''s workload. When it''s time to work, I won''t mind taking a stick to drive him back. Besides, I give it a month at most before Mason can''t take it anymore and comes back. Without experiencing country policing, anyone would go crazy."


    Meanwhile, Julian probably didn''t know his brother had become a country cop, wearing a badge on his chest. If he knew, he might have some thoughts about it, but even if he were told now, it would be too late.


    By tomorrow, when the sun rises, the wine will be stored in the warehouse by the station. The day after, according to Morris, he''ll take over Julian''s ranch.


    Morris might not realize that he''s interfering with a deal worth over ten thousand bucks. And for that much money, I bet the Lord would forgive sending a few people his way.


    Julian''s eyes filled with a growing murderous intent. He wasn''t one to use such methods to solve problems. Killing someone was indeed the easiest way to deal with trouble, but doing so wouldn''t help a person or a business grow¡ªit would just create obstacles for future transformation. After all, you can''t always kill your way out of every problem.


    There are some people you won''t dare to kill, and some you simply can''t.


    When your mind is trapped in the loop of "I''ll kill whoever stands in my way," that''s when you know you''ve hit your limit.


    Julian didn''t want to kill, but sometimes people leave you with no choice but to resort to the least desirable methods to eliminate them.


    The next day, at dawn, Julian sent Dave and a few young lads to keep watch. He believed that everyone''s actions followed some sort of pattern. Three days might not be much time, but it would be enough to figure out the general rhythm.


    "Hello, Mr. Romais, I have a question¡­" Julian sat in the office of a law firm, facing one of the best lawyers in Ternell City, Kevin Romais. Kevin was a very successful lawyer with an impressive education and extensive experience in litigation. As long as you paid him enough, he''d do his best, even if it meant going against his conscience and morals.


    Recently, a scandal broke out at Ternell City''s public high school¡ªa girl had gotten pregnant, and her family only discovered it when she was seven months along, exposing the scandal.


    Typically, cases like this are as solid as a rock, with no room for reversal. But the school''s math teacher hired Kevin at great expense, and Kevin managed to turn the case around, getting the math teacher acquitted in court.


    The teacher was released after paying a fine, and a week later, the pregnant girl jumped from the fifth floor of a hospital, taking both her life and that of her unborn child.


    The case caused a massive uproar, and even some authoritative newspapers in the capital covered it extensively, harshly criticizing the Ternell City court and Kevin Romais for his morally bankrupt actions. However, contrary to mainstream media and public opinion, Kevin became a rising star in the legal world.


    In an industry where just entering meant you were part of high society, Kevin was now one of the brightest stars.


    He had turned the impossible into reality, something that every capitalist and wealthy person sought. Rumor had it that the three biggest law firms in the capital had all sent invitations to Kevin, asking him to join their ranks as a lead litigation lawyer.


    All that was left was for him to accept. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Kevin had a clean, fair appearance and was impeccably dressed, giving a great first impression and inspiring a sense of trust. Perhaps this was one of the reasons for his success¡ªhis looks were highly deceptive. When he smiled, even Julian found it blinding, like staring into the sun. What an annoying guy.

 Chapter 35 - 35 How To Be Exonerated After Committing Murder

    "Before we talk, I need to inform you of one thing. My consultation fee is sixty dollars an hour, and if any analysis or documentation is involved¡­" He made a small circle with his finger and added with a shy smile, "¡­the fee doubles to one hundred and twenty dollars an hour."


    "And please, call me Kevin."


    Julian smirked. "What are the requirements to become a lawyer? I think you make way more than I do." Kevin knew it was a joke, so he didn''t respond. Instead, he pressed a button on a clock on the desk, and the second hand started ticking away. Julian chuckled and shook his head. "Alright, alright, I get it.


    Time''s ticking. Sixty bucks a minute¡ªdamn, you''re scarier than a capitalist!"


    "I need to ask something. If someone kills another person and voluntarily turns themselves in, how can they be exonerated? How can they be released without charges, or at least pay a fine to be let go?"


    Kevin blinked, momentarily stunned. Not quite believing what he had just heard, he asked with an apologetic tone, "Sorry, I didn''t quite understand. Are you asking how to legally kill someone?"


    Julian nodded. Kevin pressed the clock again, and the ticking stopped. His expression grew more serious, and the gold badge of his profession gleamed on his chest, lending his face a sense of justice and righteousness.


    "One thousand dollars. I''ll handle the case, but you or anyone involved must follow my instructions to the letter. Understood?"


    Julian stood up, one hand resting at his waist, the other extended. "Then, I''ll leave it to you."


    Kevin also stood up, and whether by coincidence or not, the last rays of sunlight outside fell on his face, illuminating both him and the scales of justice behind him, symbolizing law and fairness.


    "That''s what I''m here for!"


    ...


    Morris had never regarded the Guar people with any respect. To him, they were a race of failures, scattered and dispersed throughout the empire by its forces. No single city could muster 5,000 Guar people. Facing such a scattered and powerless group, Morris saw no need to give them much thought.


    Even though he knew that Julian''s proposed method for capturing Huen was the right solution, he hadn''t even considered using it.


    He had only one thing on his mind¡ªwaiting for three days. Once that time was up, he would lead his men to reclaim the farm and then quickly sell it off. By then, he could pocket at least 150 coins, which was all he cared about.


    His wallet.


    As a conscientious gang member, Morris''s daily life is still very regular.


    Every morning around nine o''clock, he would leave home promptly, which meant he likely got up before eight thirty. During those three days, he neither left earlier nor later than usual. Dressed in a tracksuit, he would jog about two kilometers to Seventh Street, where he''d stop by a delicatessen.


    After entering, he would change into flashy, eye catching clothes, styling himself in an almost greasy and gaudy manner. Then, along with a few of his men, he''d begin his daily rounds of debt collection across the city.


    Lunch was usually eaten at the homes of those unfortunate enough to owe him money, and around four in the afternoon, they would return to the delicatessen. After finishing their meal and waiting for the sun to fully set, they would head off to "Tropical Jungle," where they''d party until past midnight.


    "Tropical Jungle" was a popular underground dance hall. It earned the "underground" label because there were no restrictions on the people allowed inside. Anyone could walk in at any time, whether they came alone or with a group. Unlike legitimate bars or dance halls, which had strict safety and fire regulations¡ªlike a maximum capacity¡ªTropical Jungle didn''t adhere to any of these rules.


    Many bars and clubs often had long lines outside due to these regulations, but not here.


    Tropical Jungle was located in an air raid shelter beneath the bridge on Eleventh Street. It was initially created by a group of eccentrically dressed young people, who had metal piercings embedded in their faces, rebelling against mainstream aesthetics. They would play what most people considered noise, but the beats were intense, and they''d dance and sing in the shelter. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Gradually, this culture, known as "punk," became a symbol of rebellion, attracting more young people until the air raid shelter became a sanctuary for them. No expensive tickets were required, nor was there a need to patiently wait in line. All you needed was a pack of fruit wine, some drinks, cigarettes, and a chatty attitude to easily blend in with this unique crowd.


    In every world, there are things that leave people speechless. As more young people joined Tropical Jungle and made it their midnight sanctuary, the once-adored punk culture was gradually pushed out. It was like a drop of ink in a small bowl¡ªit could change the color of the water.


    But if you replaced that bowl with a fish tank or a lake, a single drop of ink wouldn''t make much of a difference; it would be assimilated.


    Mainstream culture flooded into this pond, turning the punk sanctuary back into a bastion of mainstream culture.


    Morris would stay at Tropical Jungle until late every night. If he met the right girl, he''d leave early. He had a particular taste¡ªhe liked young students, especially those with higher education. The more educated they were, the more interested he became.


    As the sky darkened, Morris and one of his men drove back to the bridge on Eleventh Street. After locking his car, Morris walked down the familiar maintenance staircase attached to the bridge. Once at the riverbank, they walked less than a hundred meters when they began to hear the faint thumping of the music.


    A sly grin appeared on Morris''s face as he walked, swaying his body as if already on the dance floor.


    About ten more meters ahead stood a rusty iron door. The moment he pushed it open, the music, which had been muffled, suddenly blared loudly. A strong smell of alcohol hit them as they stepped into the dark hallway. The scent of sweat and something else lingered in the air, but Morris was already used to it.


    After walking about twenty meters down the dark corridor, they emerged into a large open space.

 Chapter 36 - 36 Morris

    This was one of the many air raid shelters in Ternell City. Once a guarantee of people''s safety during times of war, it was now packed with people, just like in its heyday.


    Young people had brought in rocks, crates, and old structures to build a makeshift coliseum. Under dim lighting and with pulsating music blaring, countless bodies swayed and danced in the center, releasing pent up emotions.


    Even in the crowded "dance floor," it was difficult to make out the faces of the people in front of you, as men and women shed their daytime personas and indulged in the fleeting joys of their youth.


    Some girls were already topless, screaming and shaking their heads with their eyes half closed, as if lost in a dream. Men might grope them, but who cared? By morning, no one would recognize anyone, and that was the true essence of Tropical Jungle.


    Release and indulgence. All negative emotions evaporated as soon as you stepped inside.


    Morris laughed as he squeezed into the dance floor, pressing against the bodies of young men and women, reveling in the chaos.


    In the distance, from one of the dark tunnels, faint sounds could be heard, masked by the loud music. For these people, this place was heaven!


    Morris wandered around the dance floor for a while but couldn''t find a target. He wasn''t interested in the overly wild ones, perhaps due to his lack of education and his respect for intellectuals and high society. He loved educated girls, and at the moment he had them under him, it felt as if he could conquer the world.


    With his skills, he would tear through their education, culture, and social standing as if he could dominate the entire universe.


    Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a girl sitting quietly at the edge of the dance floor. She wore glasses and had a long ponytail, giving off an intellectual vibe. Morris didn''t know what "intellectual" meant, but he knew one thing: this girl attracted him.


    "Alone?" He squeezed over and sat down beside her. The girl glanced at him and shifted away, putting distance between them.


    "No, my friends are over there," she said, pointing toward the indistinguishable crowd in the dance floor.


    Morris scooted closer, sitting right next to her again. "What about me? Can I be your friend, miss?"


    Morris had to admit that he had some charm. His flashy outfit and bold demeanor could intrigue girls seeking a thrill, especially those who were usually the good, quiet types. The more they were repressed during the day, the wilder they became here. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The girl scooted even further away. "I don''t like making friends with strangers."


    The more she avoided him, the more Morris was intrigued, and the more restless he felt. People have an odd instinct¡ªwhen something is easily attainable, it loses its allure. But when faced with resistance, the desire for conquest becomes stronger. The thrill of the chase was what really excited Morris.


    "My name''s Morris. Everyone knows me around here!" he said, moving closer again. "See? Now you know my name, so we''re friends!"


    The girl sneered. "I don''t know you, and I don''t like people like you. Please, keep your distance."


    Morris, usually thick skinned, felt a bit hurt by her repeated rejections. Just as he was debating whether to take a different approach, the girl''s friends returned from the dance floor, likely tired from dancing.


    They were all very young, their faces still fresh with the air of academia, untouched by society''s harsh realities. Seeing them made Morris feel a pang of jealousy.


    He had once been young, but now, not anymore.


    One of the boys glanced at Morris and asked the girl, "Is this your friend?"


    Before the girl could respond, Morris stood up and extended his hand. "Yes, we''re friends. Nice to meet you all."


    The boy hesitated for a moment, unfamiliar with the adult social etiquette Morris was displaying, but eventually reached out and shook his hand. This small gesture of maturity seemed to give the boy a sense of having grown up, and he sat down beside Morris, looking pleased with himself.


    "I''ve never heard Nasha mention having a friend like you. What''s your name?" The boy''s innocence amused Morris.


    Morris snapped his fingers at one of his followers and, after giving a quick order, turned back to the boy. "I''m Morris. I''ve got a bit of a reputation in Ternell City. If you ever need help, just let me know." As he spoke, Morris''s subordinate brought over a bottle of alcohol. When the group of students saw it, their eyes lit up.


    Holding the bottle like a trophy, Morris boasted with a smirk, "This is ''Golden Classic.'' Some places sell it for eighteen a bottle!".


    Eighteen bucks in Ternell was enough to reach the minimum threshold of middle class income. In other words, this one bottle was worth as much as a middle class person''s monthly wage, or two ordinary workers'' combined salaries for a month!


    With a smooth motion, he popped the cap open and, smiling, asked, "Care for a drink?"


    ...


    At the same time, in the most luxurious hotel on King''s Avenue in Ternell City, Julian was sitting with Kevin, chatting. Most of the time, Julian was listening while Kevin was speaking.


    "We categorize criminal acts into two types¡­" Kevin paused when he said this, blinked twice with a smile, and continued, "One type results in serious consequences, and the other does not."


    "Generally, crimes without serious consequences, once solved, are handled by the city court between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. on Saturdays. The judge directly decides the punishment, which is usually several months of labor, and the sentence rarely exceeds eighteen months."


    "For crimes that result in serious consequences, have a large societal impact, cause serious injury or death, or bring significant losses to individuals, companies, or even the government, the lawyers on both sides will select a date for a trial. The decision of guilt is left to a citizen jury, while the judge is responsible only for determining the sentencing."

 Chapter 37 - 37 Discussing Law

    "If the losing party is dissatisfied with the city court''s ruling, they can appeal to a higher court, referred to as the state high court. The court system progresses from city courts to state high courts, and finally to the Empire''s Supreme Court."


    Julian listened to Kevin carefully and poured him a glass of water. As the most luxurious hotel in Ternell, they had everything you could want, but Kevin mentioned he never drank alcohol because it dulled the mind. For a lawyer, a dull mind meant the countdown to the end of their career had begun.


    After taking a sip of water, Kevin continued, "The state high court will consider the suggestions from both lawyers and hold at least three trials, with a jury of no fewer than twenty citizens making the final decision on whether the charges hold. If the case itself holds no special significance, the state high court''s decision will be final.


    But if the case garners public attention or causes a series of other issues, it will be handed to the Empire''s Supreme Court for a final ruling."


    "A small case of excessive self defense, and the deceased was a notorious gang member? Even the state high court doesn''t want to be bothered with such cases. Even if someone appeals, it will likely be rejected," Kevin said with a gleeful glint in his eyes, clearly satisfied with how easily he earned his fee.


    If it weren''t for his mother''s poor health and the fact that he hadn''t yet saved enough money to buy a house in the big city, he would have left Ternell two years ago. After successfully overturning a case involving a teacher accused of assaulting an underage girl, he had gained a solid reputation and status within the legal industry.


    He was frequently invited to participate in lawsuits and defenses, earning him a considerable amount of money.


    However, none of his cases had brought in more profit than this one with Julian.


    A total of one thousand dollars. Even if the victims families said, "he sold his soul to the devil," what difference did it make? If someone were truly righteous, they wouldn''t choose to be a lawyer. The moment someone decides to become a lawyer, their innocence is already lost.


    Kevin took another sip of water and suddenly asked, "Mr. Julian, have you studied law or religious law?"


    This question had been on Kevin''s mind for three days. When Julian used terms like "surrender" and "minor," which had specific legal meanings, Kevin got the impression that Julian wasn''t as simple as he appeared. Without some background in law, it would be difficult to use such critical legal terminology in a murder case discussion.


    A significant portion of the Empire''s law was directly copied from religious law, which every lawyer knew. After the royal family overthrew the theocracy, nobles with no legal knowledge were appointed to the judicial system. Faced with a blank slate, they struggled to draft a legal code for the nation.


    Someone had a bright idea and opened the book of religious law, borrowing many of its interpretations, and some sections are still used to this day.


    For instance, the leniency granted to minors comes from religious law, which states, "Children are still ignorant; God has not yet bestowed wisdom upon them." The nobles may have thought it inappropriate to copy this directly, but they couldn''t think of a better phrasing, so on page thirteen, line one, they wrote: "Crimes committed by minors should be treated with leniency, educating and admonishing them on proper conduct toward others, with light punishment." S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Despite Kevin''s probing gaze, Julian didn''t show the slightest reaction. He toyed with his glass and shook his head. "As much as I hate to admit it, until a few days ago, I had only mastered writing about fifty words."


    Kevin was shocked. Over the past few days, he had spent most of his time discussing plans with Julian and had always assumed that Julian was well educated. After all, Julian''s manners and demeanor were far superior to those of an ordinary Guar. It wasn''t until now that he realized Julian had been illiterate just days ago.


    Kevin couldn''t believe what he was hearing. Illiterate?


    How could that be?


    "I finally believe what the preachers say¡ªGod is indeed omnipotent!"


    Faced with Kevin''s sigh, Julian could only shrug. He couldn''t exactly explain that he had dreamed of another world, watching a newborn grow into a great man, only to be killed in a twist of fate, shot down by a bullet. So, he kept silent.


    After a while, there was a rhythmic knock at the door, causing both Julian and Kevin to pause. They walked to the floor to ceiling window and looked down at a car that had just stopped in front of the hotel entrance.


    Morris was supporting Nasha, his hand under her arm, practically carrying her weight. Golden Label was called a classic for a reason¡ªits high alcohol content could easily knock out first time drinkers, leaving them unconscious.


    "Do you need help?" Nasha''s "classmate" staggered over, clearly drunk. Morris had a good impression of the guy. If it weren''t for him, this girl named Nasha might have refused to drink. It was his persuasion, along with the encouragement of his two female friends, that piqued Nasha''s curiosity and led her to take a sip.


    The higher the alcohol content, the less it initially feels like anything. But after Morris opened another bottle of Golden Label, it was clear Nasha had had too much. Perhaps she thought her friends would take care of her, or maybe it was the allure of such a high end drink, but she couldn''t resist and drank more than she should have.


    Now, this was the result.


    "I''ve already booked a room for you. Have a pleasant evening," Morris patted the boy''s arm with a knowing smile, then helped Nasha into the hotel.


    He was a regular here. A standard room for the night only cost three dollars and ninety cents, not a significant amount for him.

 Chapter 38 - 38 Morris Life

    Morris had a strange habit. He always thought that getting into bed with a girl he liked was a sacred act. Unlike the younger men and women who would casually find a hidden spot to satisfy their hormonal urges, he treated intimacy like a ritual. Only by completing each step of the ritual could he feel true inner happiness.


    After bringing the unconscious girl into the room he had reserved, he turned on all the lights, gently placed her on the bed, and carefully removed all her clothes, covering her with a blanket. Thoughtfully, he placed a glass of water on the nightstand in case she woke up thirsty from drinking too much.


    Then, he undressed, neatly hanging his clothes in the closet. He donned a bathrobe and entered the bathroom, removing the robe and hanging it on the rack. Facing the mirror, he grasped the triangular pendant on his chest and prayed silently. It was the emblem of the Catholic Church, with an eye inside the triangle, mysterious and intimidating.


    After a moment, he stepped under the shower, meticulously washing every part of his body. Perhaps due to the alcohol, he felt slightly dizzy, and every time he blinked, it seemed as though the whole world was spinning. He enjoyed that sensation, the feeling that he was the center of the world, and everything revolved around him.


    After about ten minutes, he felt more alert. He put the bathrobe back on and stepped out of the bathroom. Glancing at the bedroom, he casually poured himself a glass of water from the bottle on the table and took a sip.


    Looking at the girl sleeping peacefully in the bed, his heart began to race. Just as he was about to head to the bedroom to indulge in the night''s delights, he felt something cold and sharp press against his waist.


    In an instant, he sobered up.


    ...


    Morris was a stubborn gang member. He had joined a gang at the age of fourteen. Over the past twenty plus years, he had been to prison three times. The first two times were for violent acts, attempting to climb the ranks, resulting in two and three year sentences for assault.


    The third time, internal gang issues arose, and while dealing with a traitor, he was accidentally witnessed by an ordinary citizen, who called the police. He took the fall for the gang''s big boss and served six years in prison. Since joining the gang, Morris had spent nearly half his time behind bars.


    This had earned him considerable seniority, solidifying his status within the gang, especially after taking the blame for the boss. At that time, four people were killed. According to imperial law, Morris should have been sentenced to death by hanging.


    However, it was during the eve of a looming war, and society''s attention was focused on the conflict, not the gang''s internal power struggles in some small town. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Whether out of loyalty to his subordinates or moved by Morris'' sacrifice, the big boss did what any boss should. He spent around twenty thousand dollars, bribing the judges, prosecutors, and even the state attorney. In the end, Morris was sentenced to "self-defense" and "manslaughter," and with the help of a smooth talking lawyer and a hefty bribe, he received a ten year prison term.


    On the last day of his sixth year, he was granted parole.


    After leaving prison, the boss decided to give him a good job: raising funds for the gang. In gang slang, this role was called a "fisherman." Morris was very grateful for this. Before his release, he thought the gang might have abandoned him, and he would be given a few thousand dollars and left to fend for himself.


    He never expected the big boss to remember him, let alone pull him out early and give him a decent job.


    Morris ambition had been worn down by his eleven years of imprisonment, so he was more than satisfied with this retirement like job.


    Because of this job, Morris shifted his focus from gaining higher status and power to simply enjoying life and satisfying himself.


    It''s worth mentioning that the reason Morris joined the gang at fourteen was because he recklessly fell for a girl, only to be ruthlessly humiliated. The girl was from a big city, from a good family, and well educated. She was in Ternell simply because she didn''t know where else to go during summer vacation, so she came with her friends.


    When the girl arrogantly lifted her head, giving Morris dirty clothes and dusty face a contemptuous glance, then mocked him with a dismissive tone, Morris felt something needed to change. He no longer wanted to cower under her aggressive gaze.


    He told himself that he had done nothing wrong. He simply liked beauty, and there was nothing wrong with liking someone.


    This led to the Morris of today, who enjoyed conquering well educated girls to fill the shadow left in his heart as a teenager.


    However, Morris was rational. He never targeted wealthy individuals because he knew he couldn''t afford to offend the rich.


    At this moment, Morris slowly raised his hands, his eyes darting around, trying to find something reflective on the walls to see who was behind him. As he searched for an opportunity, he softened his tone. This wasn''t the first time he had encountered such a situation. A few years ago, when he was drunk and walking home alone, a similar thing had happened in an alley.


    The fact that he was still standing here meant he had survived that incident.


    "Friend, if I''ve ever accidentally offended you, I apologize for my mistake. If you''re just looking to improve your situation, there''s some money in my coat, about a hundred dollars or so. You can take it all..." As he spoke and slowly started to turn around, there was a sudden whoosh of wind, and a blunt object struck his head hard.


    The back of the human head is fragile, unlike the front, which is sturdy. After being hit, Morris immediately felt two streams of hot liquid running from his nose. He staggered forward, bent over, and half knelt on the ground. He touched his nose, and when he looked at his hand, it wasn''t blood but a clear liquid.


    He felt confused, not realizing that nosebleeds would have been much better than this transparent fluid.

 Chapter 39 - 39 Action Begin

    Because that liquid was cerebrospinal fluid.


    After the brief shock, a sharp pain erupted from the back of his head, his brain throbbing. As he was about to stand up, a powerful kick landed on his rear, knocking him to the ground.


    Falling wasn''t pleasant, especially since Morris was naked, having just taken a shower. His freshly washed skin made a screeching sound as it scraped against the floor. Heavy footsteps approached from behind, and then a dirty boot, which he wouldn''t have bothered to look at before, stomped hard on his hand.


    Just as he was about to scream, he saw a black shadow out of the corner of his eye, and his head was kicked to the side.


    As his consciousness began to blur, someone flipped him over. Morris eyes widened when he saw a young man sitting on a sofa not far from him. He had seen this young man three days ago in a bar called the Golden Crystal. Morris remembered how he had rejected the young man''s offer and forced him into a corner.


    Now, the tables had turned.


    Perhaps Morris, being a gang member with the boss backing him, felt he had some prestige in Ternell. His earlier weakness turned to defiance, and he snarled through gritted teeth, "Are you insane?"


    "Insane?" Julian shrugged. "Maybe. When someone blocks my path to money, I do go a little crazy. Have you ever heard the Guarians proverb: ''A man''s livelihood is his lifeblood.''"


    Graf, who had been stepping on Morris hand, looked dumbfounded at Julian, trying to recall where he had heard that saying, but couldn''t quite place it.


    Morris laughed in anger. "You call that worthless land worth a thousand bucks a path to wealth?"


    Julian shook his head. "It''s worth a hundred thousand!" As Morris stared in shock, Julian stood up from the sofa, walked over to him, and patted Morris carefully maintained face. "Goodbye!"


    With that, he grabbed an empty wine bottle from the table and smashed it over Morris head. The dull thud sounded like a bowstring being plucked. The bottle shattered, and Julian, holding the sharp end, stabbed it into Morris neck.


    Blood didn''t spray out like in the movies. At first, there was no bleeding, but when Julian pulled the broken bottle out, Morris body convulsed violently. Perhaps it was his intense movements that caused the blood to start gushing out quickly, like a half opened faucet, rhythmically pouring out.


    If the broken bottle was the murder weapon, then Morris heart was the accomplice, as it was his heart pumping out the blood, not anyone else.


    In less than a minute, his movements weakened, and just as he tried to raise his hand to grab something, his actions stopped abruptly.


    Julian set the bottle down. At that moment, another person entered from the foyer Kevin.


    Kevin''s expression remained calm. For a lawyer, murder cases were their favorite type of case because killers spared no expense to stay alive. After reading many case files, Kevin was no longer fazed by corpses.


    Julian stood up and pursed his lips. "Do you want to handle it, or should I?"


    Kevin glanced at the unconscious girl in the bedroom and thought for a moment. "You do it."


    Things were simple. In an era without DNA extraction, it was perhaps the favorite time of every pervert and killer. They didn''t have to worry about leaving behind any evidence. If the naked eye couldn''t see it, it didn''t exist.


    Ten minutes later, Julian walked out of the room, leaving with Graf and Kevin. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Barely three minutes after they left the hotel, two police cars arrived, responding to a report they had received about a possible murder in the hotel.


    ...


    Early in the morning, when the newspaper boy tossed the paper outside the door of 117 Queen''s Road, the door opened slightly, and a hand reached out to pick up the newspaper before quickly closing again. The newspaper was carried through the hallway and placed on a dining table in the next room.


    About ten minutes later, a young man walked into the dining room. He sat down on a chair beside the table and casually picked up the rolled-up newspaper, unrolling it. The front page of the newspaper, in bold and heavy type, reported the most sensational news from Ternell City yesterday.


    "The Death of the Sex Fiend"


    A chilling headline. For those unaware, one might think it was the title of a movie or novel, not a newspaper article. Julian nodded in satisfaction. The headline was very accurate. After saying a quick "thank you" and withdrawing his gaze from Dave, he picked up the warm glass of milk and took a sip.


    He began reading the article line by line.


    "Late last night, a murder took place in this city. But what was unpredictable was that the victim turned out to be the real ''perpetrator,'' while the killer was actually the victim. After following up with officers and interviewing police, the reporters uncovered the truth behind this murder case.


    The entire report revolves around the death of Morris, filled with speculations and a collection of material, including information about a girl named Nasha. She isn''t from Ternell; she''s just a student here. Her family lives in the capital of the empire.


    Her father is a businessman, her mother is ill, and with no one to care for her, Nasha was sent to the countryside in Ternell to avoid the family conflict over her grandfather''s inheritance. If Morris''s soul hadn''t yet dispersed by the time this report was published, he might sigh and think, "This is all just a cycle."


    In short, Nasha killed someone, and Morris is dead.


    More importantly, the chaotic crime scene is far from what Nasha revealed in the newspaper, where she claimed to remember nothing. Prosecutor Dormier of Ternell City briefly discussed the murder case on the second page of the paper. In his view, Nasha is clearly hiding something.


    From the evidence collected at the crime scene and the conditions there, it seems there were three people in the room, not just two.

 Chapter 40 - 40 Meeting Again

    Prosecutor Dormier also remarked that trauma cannot cause someone to completely forget a certain period of time. Moreover, the way Morris died doesn''t seem like something a girl who had just been raped would be capable of.


    Therefore, Prosecutor Dormier believes Nasha is lying, concealing the most critical evidence, and suspects this might have been a premeditated murder."


    Julian casually tossed the newspaper onto the table. He couldn''t help but admire Kevin. The title of "famous lawyer" wasn''t just given carelessly. Kevin had a clear understanding of how Prosecutor Dormier would react and think, which explained why there wasn''t a case in Ternell that Kevin couldn''t win.


    When Kevin first proposed his plan, Julian thought there was some risk involved. But now, it seemed that Kevin might as well be some kind of demon.


    Of course, spending a thousand dollars was for peace of mind. From here on, it was up to Kevin to handle things. If he failed, his whole career would be over, and that was why Julian felt reassured.


    Looking at the time, it was almost eight o''clock. According to the plan, his thirty thousand bottles of alcohol should already be in the temporary warehouse at the station. Per his agreement with the suppliers, he needed to pay the deposit, and in the blink of an eye, over two thousand dollars were gone. The three major suppliers had no complaints about receiving only a ten percent deposit.


    After all, they were the ones begging Julian to buy their products. Even if they sold half and got paid later, they wouldn''t have said anything. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Besides, when supplying in such large quantities, only paying a deposit was standard practice.


    Thus, thirty thousand bottles of alcohol silently entered the temporary warehouse at the station. Perhaps ten days ago, Julian hadn''t imagined that in just half a month, his business could grow so large.


    That was a deal worth a hundred thousand dollars!


    "Yes, good, good, lift it a bit more... there, don''t move!" Following Julian''s instructions, the boys hoisted the parts of a large distiller and began assembling them piece by piece. They might not know what these things were, and they didn''t need to know. All they needed to understand was that these items were valuable.


    Under the powerful lure of money, the warehouse was quickly built. This warehouse didn''t need luxurious or high end finishes, it only needed to be watertight, windproof, and raised a foot off the ground. With such simple requirements and everyone working together, it was quickly completed.


    Once these distillers were assembled, they could start bringing in low proof alcohol in batches, distilling it into high proof liquor for sale.


    The untold wealth lying ahead filled Julian with energy.


    After assembling two distillers with the boys from the Fellowship association, Dave, who had been watching from outside, finally stepped in. He walked over to Julian and whispered something in his ear. Julian wiped the dust from his hands with a towel and instructed everyone to assemble the other distillers in the same way as the first two. Then, he turned and left the warehouse.


    As they walked, Dave said, "Our people have tracked down the whereabouts of the Huen family. After arriving at the location, they captured them, and they''ve just returned. They''re now in Warehouse Ten." Warehouse Ten was the last one built, just completed yesterday, and hadn''t yet been varnished.


    Julian nodded and said, "Good job." He didn''t say another word as they walked.


    Originally, he had given the Huens 1,800 dollars because he still had a shred of mercy in his heart. He believed that a person should keep some sense of decency and kindness. He could have waited until Huen was completely desperate to buy the ranch, which would have saved him the 1,800 dollars and the additional 1,000 dollar consulting fee.


    His thought process was simple: 1,800 dollars, plus whatever valuables the family might still have, would probably bring them another 200 dollars, making 2,000 dollars in total.


    With 2,000 dollars, whether they borrowed from relatives or friends, finding an extra 200 dollars wouldn''t have been impossible. He had left them a way out, offering them a final glimmer of hope, because he wasn''t yet the ruthless person from his dreams. But he had never imagined that this act of kindness would bring him so much trouble.


    As he prepared to face the Huen family again, Julian''s emotions were complex and hard to describe. There was some awkwardness, some resentment, and a bit of confusion.


    He pushed open the warehouse door, and the distinctive smell of fresh wood wafted out. Bright light slowly poured into the warehouse, allowing Julian to see the Huen family, tied up together. He stood with his back to the sunlight, his entire face hidden in shadow, and the people inside the warehouse couldn''t see his expression.


    Julian walked from the sunlight into the dark world of the warehouse, allowing Huen''s family to finally see who had entered. Huen let out a visible sigh of relief, and his wife and daughter visibly relaxed as well.


    Something seems off about this script?


    Actually, it was unfolding as expected. When Huen first returned to his family''s small, rundown home, a group of youths had pounced on him like wolves. They wielded knives, tied him up, and covered his head with a dark, opaque hood. As the black hood dropped over his vision, he recalled the past, reflected on the present, and imagined the future, suspecting he might not have long to live.


    Huen was older and well experienced, enough to know that only two types of people used such black hoods. The first was judicial officers, who would put these hoods on prisoners, fit them with heavy shackles, and prepare the noose. It was said that people could still hear the snap of their own necks before their lives faded away.


    The second type of person was gang members. When a black hood covered someone''s head in their world, it meant the gang had sentenced them to death.

 Chapter 41 - 41 Responsibility

    The judicial use of the black hood was rooted in an old belief from the Lord''s Prayer¡ªthat a dying person''s soul could latch onto the last face they saw, especially if that face fueled hatred. It was thought that such a lingering spirit could bring disease and misfortune to the living. Thus, during official executions, a hood prevented the soul from clinging to an innocent.


    For gangs, the black hood represented a death devoid of dignity or honor. They valued personal honor more than people might expect, and an ignominious death was a great shame. Dying under a black hood¡ªwhere you didn''t even know who killed you¡ªwas perhaps the most dishonorable end.


    Huen assumed these youths were under Morris''s command, sent to capture him on his orders. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian shook his head with a smile. Perhaps this was the difference between people. If Morris had walked through the door, Huen would likely be groveling in terror, begging for forgiveness, aware of the danger Morris posed to him and his family. Yet Julian''s presence seemed to reassure him. Did Huen see him as a kind man? or just someone easier to deal with?


    Julian crouched, lighting a cigarette. He''d picked up smoking since arriving in the city, though he hadn''t developed a strong habit yet. Partly influenced by Mr. Kesma and partly by his dreams, smoking had become a sort of ritual.


    The cigarette glowed brightly as he took a drag, the smoke cycling through his lungs before he exhaled. Licking his dry lips, he spoke, "I don''t like trouble." He smiled, examining the structure of Warehouse 10, adding, "Since I was young, I''ve hated trouble. I don''t like causing it for others, nor do I like others bringing it to me."


    "Mr. Huen, you''ve caused me quite a bit of trouble."


    Huen''s lips moved, and after a moment, he managed an apology. "I didn''t want it this way, Mr. Julian, but if I didn''t do it, Morris''s men wouldn''t let me go. I can''t lose my wife and daughter. For their sake, I had to deceive Morris a little. I borrowed from relatives so I could pay him back!"


    "No need to explain anything to me," Julian replied, shaking his head. "Morris has already gone to hell to atone, and soon, it will be your turn."


    Julian rose to his feet, pacing a few steps as he continued. "Honestly, I''m still shocked to hear myself saying such things. But my previous hesitation and kindness cost me dearly and nearly put me in danger. So¡­" He gave a rueful smile. "I''m sorry, Mr. Huen.


    As the president of the Fellowship association and an unlicensed bootlegger, I can''t afford a second foolish mistake. If we meet again, it''ll be in Heaven."


    With that, Julian pressed his cigarette butt onto Huen''s forehead, drawing a scream of pain. As he let go, Julian laughed. "Look at that, my soft heart is acting up again. You fraudsters aren''t going to Heaven. Have a good joureny to Hell!"


    Leaving the warehouse, Julian tilted his head as Dave approached him, awaiting instructions. After a few whispered words, Julian left. He had too much to do to linger here.


    Not long after, Dave and some youths returned, carrying two wooden barrels. These large wine barrels could each hold at least 75 gallons¡ªmore than enough to contain a person. They entered the warehouse with the barrels, and Huen began to plead. "Please, let me see Mr. Julian. I didn''t deceive him!


    I really sold him the ranch. If anyone wants to trouble me, it should be Morris, not Mr. Julian!"


    Dave responded by kicking Huen in the face. "Morris? He''s already mingling with devils in Hell. If you''re so eager to explain, go join him."


    Huen collapsed, trembling and weak as he realized he had messed with people far more terrifying than Morris. At least Morris was only after money, but these people didn''t even bother selling his wife and daughter¡ªthey were coming straight for their lives without any compromise.


    Dave smiled as he stroked the little girl''s head, his warm smile and handsome, well defined features almost soothing her terror.


    "Afraid of the dark? Don''t worry. Your mom will be right there with you. Just bear with it for a bit," he said before looking at Huen''s wife. "My apologies, madam. I don''t expect forgiveness, no matter the reason."


    A stick landed on the back of the woman''s head, and she slumped forward. The little girl, too, succumbed to the same fate. Perhaps, Julian had shown them his last act of mercy by sending them into unconsciousness.


    "Put him in this barrel. Put them in the other. Then seal them with mud and dump them in Agate River."


    As the youths worked together to carry out the task, Huen and his family were each placed in a barrel, thick mud poured over them, the lids fastened with rivets.


    Perhaps no one would ever know that a fraudster lay hidden within these barrels.


    After hours of transport, the barrels were dumped into a tributary of the Agate River, sinking into the depths with a splash, the weight preventing them from surfacing. Eventually, they might resurface, but not anytime soon.


    With the matter settled, Dave returned to the ranch and briefed Julian on what had happened. Julian, seated on Huen''s couch, waved him away. Left alone, he lit another cigarette, staring blankly ahead.


    When had he become this ruthless? Why could he now so casually decide the fate of others, even take lives without hesitation? He searched his past and his dreams, lost in thought, until the cigarette burnt down to his fingers, jolting him back to reality.


    Watching the butt roll on the floor, he chuckled bitterly. Perhaps it was his determination to avoid ending up like Huen¡ªhaving his fate decided by someone else without his consent¡ªthat had led him to this state.


    This wasn''t mere cruelty; these actions were also part of his responsibility. Julian knew that behind him stood a dozen youths of the Fellowship Association, their fate resting solely on his decisions. He had been soft once before, a mistake that nearly dragged his followers into a gang war. Perhaps strength was the only path forward for him now.


    He reminded himself, It''s strength¡ªa strength born of survival and the need to protect my interests.


    Exhaling, he brushed the ashes from his lap, stood tall, and stepped outside, embracing the sunlight illuminating the world.

 Chapter 42 - 42 Transportation Cost

    "Slow down¡­ a little!" Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yes, slow down a little!"


    "Alright!" Graf patted the side of the truck''s cargo bed, casting an envious glance at the young man stepping down from the driver''s seat. The young man couldn''t have been more than twenty-something, yet he was already driving a truck. Graf''s childhood dream was to be a truck driver hauling cargo through city streets, freely cruising without anyone to hinder his path.


    Unfortunately, he still couldn''t afford a truck, nor did he know how to drive.


    The truck driver, Myron, was the son of Mr. Kreen. Mr. Kreen had invested a substantial sum in this truck, using his position and connections at the station to offer short-haul transportation services for various clients. It was clear that capitalists didn''t become successful by mere luck. His insight was sharp, and his instincts, astute.


    In less than a year, he had recouped his investment, and now everything he made was pure profit. During particularly busy months, Myron earned more than his own father¡ªand not just by a little.


    This is the logic of supply and demand. Not everyone could afford a truck; those who could were generally capitalists themselves. They''d prefer to spend more money on a sedan rather than buy a truck.


    What? How do they handle transportation? Of course, they let workers carry the loads! Otherwise, why provide them with food, drink, and wages? To spoil them like parents? No, they''re there to work!


    Moving 2,500 crates of liquor isn''t something you can finish in one go, and this was just the first batch. All the The Fellowship Association members had come to help Julian store this liquor. Julian had given them a decent salary and the courage to hold their heads high, so it was only right that they help him¡ªeven if it wasn''t the most pleasant of tasks.


    Leaning against the cargo bed, Myron looked at the burly man beside him and patted his hairy arm. "Hey, buddy, got a light?"


    Graf rolled his eyes, took out a match, struck it against Myron''s trousers, and, with a whoosh, it ignited. Myron cupped his hands around the match, took a couple of puffs, and, after blowing out some smoke, patted Graf''s hand. Graf casually tossed the match to the ground and stomped it out.


    "Tell me, why build the warehouse outside the city? The roads aren''t great. Won''t it be a hassle to transport it all back in later?" Myron, used to city deliveries, was puzzled by Julian''s choice. The roads outside the city were mostly gravel and dirt. They were fine when the weather was clear, but a little rain would make them a nightmare.


    And renting storage within the city wasn''t particularly expensive, either. Ternell, being a small city, only charged about fifty cents a day for a hundred square meter warehouse about fifteen bucks a month.


    Graf didn''t know how to answer and, with another eye roll, kept silent, watching the younger guys load the goods.


    "Because winter is coming," came a voice from the other side of the truck¡ªJulian''s voice. He walked over to Graf''s side, glanced at him, and Graf quickly joined the others at the back of the truck to continue loading cargo. "It''ll be winter in three months, and cold storage can damage certain elements in the liquor.


    I''m not exactly educated on this stuff, but apparently, too much cold affects the flavor in undesirable ways.


    "So, I bought this farm and built a specialized storage facility to ensure the liquor gets through winter safely and is ready for next year''s festivities."


    Honestly, Myron didn''t really understand what Julian was talking about. What exactly changes? No one knew for sure. But he nodded along anyway, with an "Oh, that makes sense" look. He''d read more than most around here, so he needed to act like he understood, even if he didn''t.


    "How were the road conditions on the way here?" Julian, having finished his explanation, smiled and patted Myron on the shoulder. Myron was still getting used to being patted by someone younger than him but knew well enough not to offend Julian¡ªJulian was wealthy. Myron and his father disagreed on many things in life, but they agreed on one point: don''t offend the rich.


    Taking a couple of puffs, Myron flicked his cigarette to the ground and straightened up. "The road was alright, sir. Not too bumpy, no slippery spots, but it was a bit far."


    Hiring Myron for these deliveries at eighty cents per trip was reasonable, especially considering the multiple trips needed. Moving everything would take about seven or eight trips, costing a minimum of five dollars. It wasn''t easy to make five bucks back then; most station laborers only made around eight or nine a month. Only someone like Graf, with his size, could earn more than ten.


    Julian''s eyes quickly fell on the truck. He ran his hand along the cargo bed, the cool metallic feel satisfying. "How much does a truck like this go for now?"


    "Five hundred fifty bucks¡ªand that''s not even the full investment." Julian crossed his arms and tilted his head, prompting Myron to elaborate. "For example, maintenance. At least twice a year for parts replacement and repairs, which costs about fifteen bucks. Then there''s the cost of using crystals.


    "With my usual route mileage, I''m covering about three to four thousand kilometers a month. That means, on average, I''m spending around two bucks every three days, or over a hundred bucks annually. All in all, I''m looking at nearly two hundred bucks a year just to keep it running."


    At this, Myron couldn''t help sighing. Originally, he thought buying the truck for five hundred fifty bucks would be a one time investment, only to find out it costs him an additional two hundred a year, and this all comes from his profits. If he didn''t have these costs, he''d have moved out to live on his own by now.


    Julian nodded, mentally calculating. With high proof liquor now bottled, he''d need to start planning for transportation. Relying solely on others for transport wasn''t sustainable. Transport costs made up a fair share of expenses, and using third parties risked exposing certain secrets. He''d decided to buy a truck.


    Buying a truck used to be a big deal for Julian¡ªfive hundred fifty bucks was like a fortune. But now, it was manageable, not even cutting into profits much. Just fifty five bottles of high proof liquor would cover it.


    In this world, trucks and cars ran on crystals, unlike in his dreams, where vehicles ran on gasoline.


    Once a standard sized crystal was loaded into the power chamber and the chamber''s hatch closed, a catalyst would flow in when the vehicle started.


    The catalyst''s contact with the crystal would trigger an intense reaction, producing high temperatures and pressure, which would vaporize the catalyst and create a sustained internal pressure that could drive the truck''s gears, propelling the vehicle forward.

 Chapter 43 - 43 Making High Proof Wine

    Bottles of fruit wine were uncorked and poured into wooden barrels. Then, someone sent the barrels into the distillery, where the fruit wine was transferred into the distillation apparatus. The whole process was divided into many steps: the earlier stages required more people, while the later stages required fewer.


    This arrangement was for secrecy, though whether the secret could be kept, Julian wasn''t too optimistic about.


    The Guar people, who had been forced to join the "gang" out of desperation, were indeed displaying loyalty for now. However, Julian doubted that this loyalty would last forever. Especially when, through distillation, the fruit wine that was originally worth about two dollars per bottle was transformed into a high proof illegal product worth ten dollars or more.


    The enormous profits created a significant impact on the minds of these impoverished youths, enough to alter some people''s values and life perspectives in a short time.


    Loyalty, after all, is just a matter of price.


    Once someone believed they had mastered this method and successfully tried it, Julian could easily imagine that a group of people would secretly leave, taking the distillation method with them to seek their own futures.


    No one could guarantee that everyone would remain loyal forever, so, in Julian''s mind, secrecy was no big deal.


    Moreover, selling this high proof illicit alcohol wasn''t part of his long term plan for the future. It was merely a way to raise funds and build his power. He even hoped that someone would manage to steal the technique and go independent. That way, he could rely on these people to consolidate the market for high proof alcohol sales within the Star Empire, establishing standards and an entry system.


    As the temperature in the distillery rose, a humid heat hit. The moment the first drop of crystal clear liquid with a strong alcoholic aroma dripped from the spout, Graf trembled with excitement.


    This wasn''t just high proof alcohol; this was money, gold! From 150,000 bottles of fruit wine, factoring in losses, they could produce around 40,000 bottles of high proof alcohol. If they sold each bottle for just ten dollars, that would be 400,000. After deducting the 120,000 dollars in costs that Julian mentioned, the profit would be... Graf counted on his fingers¡ªaround 250,000.


    His share was 40%, which meant about 100,000 dollars!


    In an instant, his breathing became rapid 100,000 dollars!


    One hundred thousand!


    Even in his wildest dreams of becoming a millionaire, Graf had never possessed 100,000 dollars, not even in his fantasies. But now, it was within reach.


    Unlike Graf, who was lost in his excitement, Julian calmly watched the alcohol drip from the spouts one by one. Others might see this as a highly profitable business with a huge market, and of course, they wouldn''t be wrong. However, compared to the business giants in the commercial guilds, this money wouldn''t even catch their eye.


    Since he had started reading newspapers and books, Julian had gained a preliminary understanding of the entire Empire and even the whole world.


    The most profitable industries in the world were always those that were monopolized, like the military industry. In the front of them all were various war machines, particularly the AT-11 war machinery and AT-12 mobile platforms, which were currently the most equipped in the Star Empire. Each of these machines cost over 200,000.


    Expensive, right? One machine costing that much? What was more terrifying was that the Empire had equipped over 6,000 of these machines, according to reports. And what about the ones that hadn''t been reported? Or the ones that could be assembled at any time?


    If such industries were too high end, requiring a long process of accumulation and experience to enter, what about clothing, food, housing, and transportation?


    What shocked Julian was that the most famous clothing stores in the entire Empire weren''t chain stores like in his dream but individual tailors shops. From the Emperor and nobles to commoners, their clothes were either made by themselves or sewn by a tailor for money. Going to a store to buy ready made clothes? Sorry, there wasn''t a single "department store" in the entire Star Empire.


    Even if you went to a tailor''s shop, you''d need luck to find ready made clothes that fit. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Whether it was clothing, shopping malls, food, housing, or transportation, Julian saw each industry as a diamond mountain that hadn''t yet been mined, and a high purity, high yield open pit diamond mountain at that. There was no need to dig¡ªjust chipping off a piece could make a person, or a company, leap to become one of the most influential brands in the Empire!


    So this small business of high proof alcohol? Julian really didn''t treat it as something precious.


    The dripping alcohol gradually turned into a stream, and the rich aroma of liquor filled the room. Seeing that the barrel was nearly full, Julian immediately instructed someone to tighten the spout and push the nearly full barrel of "alcohol" aside. Then, they poured in the prepared fruit juice, stirred, and let it settle.


    In about three hours, the alcohol mixed with fruit juice would turn into the popular "Snow Elf" and "First Love" drinks. Once bottled in the redesigned bottles and labels, under Julian''s insistence, a bottle of ten dollar high proof fruit wine was born.


    The reason Julian insisted that the three major suppliers strictly follow his design for the bottles and labels was to create confusion. Although he didn''t treat bootlegging as his future primary industry, he still wanted to avoid unnecessary trouble.


    When certain special people became interested in these wines and examined the bottles and labels, they would think that this wine was imported and not domestically "produced."


    Even if they went abroad to look for it, they wouldn''t find this high proof fruit wine.


    Today was just the first experimental production. Once the process and standards were confirmed, Julian wouldn''t need to come by often. When a dozen barrels of blended high proof fruit wine were pushed out of the tightly closed factory doors, almost everyone was shocked.

 Chapter 44 - 44 How Could Someone Be This Stupid

    They weren''t shocked by the quantity of high proof bootleg alcohol, nor by the value of these products. What truly shocked them was Julian''s method of making high proof alcohol. After all, they had personally delivered barrels of low proof fruit wine inside. But when it came out, it had turned into high proof fruit wine. Magic tricks weren''t this amazing.


    And it wasn''t just a cup or a bottle; it was over a dozen barrels!


    Tons of it!


    Dave cleared his throat, and the young men, realizing their embarrassment, quickly reined in their expressions of surprise and stood quietly to the side. Dave was also deeply shocked, though he didn''t show it, keeping his amazement hidden. He had experienced far more than these young men, and having served time in prison, he understood the potential profits here.


    If word got out that there was a method simpler than using Dragon Blood Wood to turn low proof wine into high proof alcohol in a short time, the world''s alcohol merchants would go mad. High proof alcohol prices had remained high for two reasons: the expensive cost of Dragon Blood Wood and the fact that it took at least half a year from brewing to market.


    If these two problems could be solved, high proof alcohol prices would drop to the level of low proof fruit wine. Even if the Empire didn''t allow high proof alcohol sales, the price wouldn''t stay that high.


    Now, this technique was in Julian''s hands. It was like holding a mountain of gold. For the first time, Dave felt that following Julian might actually turn from a short-term occupation into a lifelong one.


    Under Julian''s orders, the youths put on long sleeved rubber gloves, cleaned up, and started bottling. As the fruit wine in the barrels decreased bit by bit, and the number of bottles awaiting sealing increased, the atmosphere in Warehouse No. 2 grew more and more excited!


    ...


    Colt calmly watched his trusted subordinate stand against the wall with his head lowered, looking just like a child at home after getting into trouble at school, his face full of shame.


    It was supposed to be a very simple task¡ªjust to keep an eye on someone. Both Mr. Colt and this trusted subordinate of his thought it was an easy job, almost too simple. But problems arose precisely because of this seemingly small task.


    At first, this trusted subordinate¡ªwho actually had a name, Gawain¡ªthought that tailing a big guy was way too easy. Even in a crowded place, he could spot the guy, who was a head taller than most people, moving through the crowd. He understood Mr. Colt''s intent because, after all, he was Mr. Colt''s capable subordinate.


    When this big lug named Graf brought in that high proof fruit wine, which had a very distinctive taste, and sold it all within two days, Gawain knew this was a gold mine.


    Mr. Colt was like the miner... no, the mine owner.


    His task was to keep an eye on Graf, see whom he was in contact with, and find out who his real supplier was. From there, the plan was to secure the supply of this high proof fruit wine and become the sole distributor in Ternell City. It was a crucial mission, and Gawain believed no one but himself¡ªMr. Colt''s trusted assistant¡ªwas capable of handling it.


    On the first day, he followed Graf back to the train station, waited outside until nightfall, and then followed him back to the workers dormitory. Gawain squatted at the corner of the dormitory wall for the entire night, eventually dozing off in the early morning. Fortunately, he remembered his mission and, as Mr. Colt''s trusted partner, woke up early.


    He watched as the workers came out of the dormitory one by one, heading to the train station. But he didn''t see Graf. His heart sank. It wasn''t until nine o''clock that Graf finally came out of the dormitory, yawning, stretching at the door, and wiping the tears and eye crust from his face with his sleeve.


    On the second day, Gawain personally saw Graf go to the station and then leave with a young man...


    If Gawain hadn''t personally witnessed Graf bringing wine to the bar to see Mr. Colt, he might not have believed that someone so prone to tardiness and early departures could have gotten lucky enough to win over a supplier. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For several days in a row, Mr. Gawain didn''t make any progress. Sometimes, Graf didn''t come out for a day or two, but whenever he did, it seemed like he always went to the train station.


    This time, though, it was even more outrageous. Gawain hadn''t seen Graf come out of the dormitory for over ten days. He even considered calling the police¡ªhad the guy gotten into a fight with the workers and been killed inside? If it weren''t for the fact that he tried peeking through the dormitory window to see what was going on, he might not have discovered that the dormitory had two doors...


    "So, you stood at the dormitory entrance for over ten days, not knowing that Graf had already left, right?" Mr. Colt''s voice was soft, almost as if he were explaining Gawain''s mistake for him. Gawain, too ashamed to lift his head, didn''t even know the dormitory had two doors. But even if he had known, what could he have done? What could he have done with just one person? How could he watch both doors?


    Though filled with shame, there was a hint of stubbornness in him¡ªthis mistake wasn''t entirely his fault.


    Looking at the silent Gawain, Colt was so angry he nearly laughed. How could someone be this stupid? So stupid it made others feel despair? He must have grown to this age only because he was this world illegitimate son luck. Otherwise, such a foolish person would have died long ago.


    Luckily, Mr. Colt had decent self control. After all, he had received a good education and prided himself on being a civilized man. So when he picked up the ashtray, it wasn''t to throw it at someone¡ªhe just wanted to move it to another spot.

 Chapter 45 - 45 Liquor Business Start Again

    "Gawain, can you drive?"


    Gawain responded that he could. Before working for Mr. Colt, he had been a driver for a while. If it weren''t for a problem with the steering wheel of the car, he wouldn''t have lost that job and would never have landed his current position.


    Mr. Colt nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. People with a skill always leave an impression. Starting tomorrow, you''ll be driving. It''s a very important job.


    The entire bar''s liquor supply depends on your timely transportation."


    Hearing that he was about to take on such an important task, Gawain was overjoyed. He pressed his lips together and nodded vigorously. "I won''t let you down, sir. I''ll become the best driver!"


    At that moment, Gawain truly believed this, and until the event that occurred not long after, even Mr. Colt believed it, too. After all, how complicated could picking up and delivering goods be? In Ternell City, seeing a car pass by every five minutes was considered heavy traffic!


    Mr. Colt waved his hand dismissively. "Do your job well, and that''ll be the greatest support for me. Go ahead and take over now."


    After Gawain left, Mr. Colt pulled a silver pocket watch from his coat. When he opened the cover, a picture of his daughter popped out. His heart warmed inexplicably, and he gently stroked the picture with his thumb as if his daughter were right there beside him. Glancing at the time, it was fifteen minutes to five¡ªGraf should be arriving soon.


    The reason he remembered today that he still had a subordinate named Gawain tracking Graf was that Graf had informed him that deliveries would start again today, with the liquor being brought over before five in the evening.


    There were ten crates in total, 120 bottles. At ten dollars per bottle, that came to 1,200 dollars. It was a hefty sum, but it also meant substantial earnings. With a cost of 1,200 dollars, they could make at least 800 to 900 dollars in return. The final amount would depend largely on the bartenders. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A good bartender would add an extra ice cube and pour a little less liquor, saving enough that three bottles could make two extra glasses.


    But as for those honest and obedient bartenders, they were much more straightforward...


    At five minutes before five, Graf and two young men pushed open the door and entered, setting the ten crates in the corner.


    "Is that all?" Mr. Colt frowned at the sight of the ten crates with 120 bottles. He knew all too well how popular this liquor was. Last time, they had run out, and several regular customers had complained. One frequent customer had never come back.


    Graf, who had recently learned how to shrug, shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands. "That''s all there is. For reasons I don''t quite understand, each bar only gets this much stock each month."


    One hundred and twenty bottles sounded like a lot¡ªthey could sell four bottles a day, or 20 glasses. But in reality, it was more like ten glasses, because there were two types of liquor, and there were only two bottles of each, so that made fewer than ten glasses.


    This supply was far from enough to meet the demand. Some customers drank three or four glasses in a single night, and a couple of tables could easily finish off two bottles.


    Though it was an honor for Mr. Colt and Wild Rose Bar to have a drink that customers loved so much, not being able to meet all their needs would turn into a hassle.


    So, Mr. Colt blurted out, "What if I''m willing to pay a little extra? Can I get someone else''s share?"


    Graf immediately flashed a smile, showing two rows of slightly yellowing teeth. "If you don''t mind paying a little extra, it''s not impossible."


    Mr. Colt''s confidence returned. If the price went up, it would just be passed on to the customers anyway. He smirked, "How much extra?"


    "For anything under 50 crates, it''s twelve dollars a bottle."


    "For between 50 and 100 crates, it''s fifteen dollars a bottle."


    "For over 100 crates, it''s eighteen dollars a bottle!"


    With each price Graf reported, Mr. Colt''s face darkened further. When he heard that over 100 crates would cost eighteen dollars per bottle, he wanted to bite Graf. He had seen greedy merchants before, but nothing this outrageous. Why not just double the price? Mr.


    Colt quickly picked up the pen on the table and did some calculations. If he wanted to order 100 crates, it would cost him 15,960 dollars, averaging over thirteen dollars per bottle. After that, every additional bottle would cost eighteen dollars.


    What a rip-off!


    Mr. Colt took a deep breath. "I''ll take fifty crates..." He glanced at the ten crates on the floor. "Including these!"


    ...


    "Mr. Gorn, the ''First Love'' you''ve been waiting for has arrived!" The bartender expertly wiped the bar in front of Mr. Gorn again with a clean cloth, placing a coaster down. "Would you like this, or something else?"


    Gorn''s eyes lit up, and he tapped his fingers on the bar. "It''s finally here? Then I''ll have a glass. And don''t try to fool me with some other liquor¡ªits taste is quite unique and not easily replicated." After the bar ran out of "First Love," Mr. Gorn had gone to other bars. Some didn''t know about the drink, some had sold out.


    There were two bars that had it, but their versions weren''t authentic. While they had a hint of bitterness, they lacked the lingering depth that "First Love" offered, like the difference between a skilled woman in a red dress standing outside a high-end restaurant''s glass wall, and a noble, elegant lady in a red dress dining inside.


    The clothes might be the same, but the substance was entirely different.


    "Don''t worry, Wild Rose Bar has a reputation to uphold!" The bartender soon served the "First Love," chilled with ice, onto the table. Under the dim lights, the ice and liquor shimmered, reflecting a mesmerizing glow. As Gorn inhaled the special aroma, he felt his heart almost swoon. He couldn''t wait and took a sip, and in that instant, his whole body relaxed.


    He felt himself once again entering a solitary, independent world.

 Chapter 46 - 46 First Taste Of Fortune

    In this world, there was only a man, a glass of wine, and the lonely moonlight. Completely absorbed in his own world, the liquor in the glass dwindled until even the last drop was tipped into his mouth.


    Exhaling a breath laced with alcohol, his melancholy gaze slowly lifted from the empty glass until it fell on the bartender''s face. "Was this bottle just opened?" Gorn asked. The bartender nodded. "First Love" was quite popular among middle-aged patrons, but younger people couldn''t yet appreciate the drink''s bitter, solitary taste.


    Gorn was the first customer of the night with such "taste," so the bottle was opened just for him.


    Seeing the bartender''s confirmation, Gorn smiled. "Give me the whole bottle, and refill my glass when I''ve finished."


    Gorn didn''t ask about the price, and the bartender didn''t offer it either. The customers at Wild Rose Bar wouldn''t feel any pain from buying a bottle of wine, nor would they struggle to pay.


    The price of a full bottle was set at twenty-two dollars for about 750 milliliters, enough for slightly more than four glasses, each priced at six dollars. Buying a whole bottle for twenty-two was a standard and widely accepted sales concept.


    Love?


    He chuckled softly, shaking his head while humming the tune and sipping his drink. In his world, he was utterly alone.


    ...


    The quiet rollout of "First Love" didn''t meet with any setbacks. Its steady sales reassured the risk taking merchants. If "First Love" made them confident that they wouldn''t be stuck with unsold stock, "Snow Elf" made them nearly laugh out loud with delight.


    Young people loved the icy-cool taste of "Snow Elf." On its first night at Dynamic Zone Bar, which catered primarily to younger crowds, they sold two entire crates!


    And that was without any major word of mouth promotion or wall advertisements. A shining golden road had already appeared before the eyes of many bar owners.


    Meanwhile, Julian sat calmly in the conference room on the second floor of 117 Queen''s Avenue.


    It was a house he had rented, three stories in total, costing 320 dollars a month. Initially, Graf had thought renting just one floor would be enough, but Julian didn''t follow his advice. After all, Graf''s brain was all muscle, and it would''ve been difficult to explain to him why renting all three floors was necessary.


    At that moment, in front of Julian at the large table, Graf and Dave stood by the window smoking, but their attention was focused on Julian. Five girls were counting money. Small metal boxes were opened, and rolls of cash popped out. The girls, excited yet slightly nervous, stacked the money by denomination and counted carefully.


    When the last coin was picked up by a girl''s delicate hand and dropped into a cup with a clear clink, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.


    Graf walked over to Julian, nervously gripping the back of Julian''s chair.


    Julian sat with his legs crossed, showing no signs of anxiety. He already had a good idea of how much had been sold and how much money they would have today. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He looked at the girl to his right and asked, "How much in total?"


    ...


    Just like when Julian received the fruit wine from the supplier, he only paid a tenth of the deposit.


    The bars also didn''t pay the full amount but followed the rules Julian entrusted to Graf. They paid a minimum deposit of 30%.


    Julian wasn''t worried that anyone would dare to default, unless they no longer wanted to sell this unique, high proof fruit wine. If they defaulted, Julian had ways to recover the money, with both principal and interest.


    Capital has never been noble. It involves not only ugly exploitation and oppression but also brutal competition and suppression. Competition can be civilized or savage.


    When the girl, with trembling lips, announced the day''s earnings, Graf clutched his chest, and the cigarette Dave had just lit fell from his hand.


    After rounding off the minor digits, the total was 19,600. Julian was quite satisfied with this figure. Although it fell 400 short of breaking the 20,000 mark, it was already an impressive sales result. And this was just 30% of the deposit. Once this batch of goods was sold out, they would collect a total of about 66,000!


    This was a step forward, and the future looked promising!


    Clutching his chest, Graf asked, "Julian, does this mean... does this mean I can get several thousand dollars?"


    Julian gave him a glance and turned to Dave, saying, "Explain it to this fool, and then tell him how much he''ll actually get." Of course, this money couldn''t be counted as pure profit. After deducting the costs, various necessary expenses, and reserves, the net profit was around 15,000. Graf would take 40%, which was 6,000 dollars, and the rest belonged to Julian.


    However, Julian didn''t plan to distribute the profits as they currently stood. It wasn''t because he was greedy or uncomfortable with Graf taking so much. Nor was he trying to covet Graf''s share. In any enterprise, company, or even a small organization that wants to grow and develop healthily, profits cannot be concentrated in the hands of just one or two people.


    These profits must be distributed and shared.


    There was a saying he found very true. In a dream, a business mogul once discussed this with the head of a consumer brand, and what the brand leader said stuck with Julian.


    "When wealth is concentrated, people scatter. When wealth is distributed, people gather."


    The principle is simple. As Julian understood it, if you try to take more for yourself, you inevitably harm those who aren''t equipped to resist risks, forcing them to leave. Whether running a business or any organization, it needs people and the help of people to succeed.


    Nothing can be accomplished without people.


    It''s not that things can''t be done alone, but without trusted people, success becomes near impossible. Thus, wealth must be shared to attract and keep these people.

 Chapter 47 - 47 The Limits of Ambition

    This was what Julian wanted to do.


    He planned to take some of the shares from Graf''s side and some from his own, then spread that money around. Whether it was to win people''s hearts or smooth out the process, it was far more meaningful than keeping all the money in his own hands.


    Society is like a giant web. As we walk this network, if you can''t become a hunter, you''ll become prey. Julian didn''t want to be devoured, so he was building a web, an active one¡ªa vast and all encompassing web!


    After locking all the money in a metal box, Julian slipped the key into his pocket. He casually took out a roll of cash, all in small two-dollar bills, counted out twenty bills, and told Dave to distribute them among the girls. Then, patting Graf, who still hadn''t snapped out of his daze, Julian nodded toward another room, and the two of them walked inside.


    Julian closed the door behind them. The room hadn''t been renovated yet; there were only a few shabby chairs covered in dust. He walked to the window, took out a cigarette, and handed one to Graf, who was still smiling with joy. Then, he turned around, leaning his hands on the windowsill, and gazed at the few cars and pedestrians on the street below.


    Sensing that Julian had something to say, Graf came over, leaning against the windowsill with his back to the street.


    "Look around," Julian gestured to the surrounding buildings. Graf rolled his eyes and turned to follow Julian''s direction. Although he could only see the buildings along the street and the people walking by, there was a hint of prosperity. Julian retracted his arm, took a puff of his cigarette, shook his head, and sighed, "This is the countryside!"


    Two months ago, Julian hadn''t thought this way. In his mind, this was the big city, a bustling place. But now, looking carefully, it was nothing more than the countryside, as rural as it could get. The quiet streets, the low buildings, and the slow pace of life were perfect for retirement but absolutely unsuitable for ambition.


    "Do you know what a real city is? A truly big city, like the capital?"


    Graf thought for a moment. "I know of them, but I''ve never been."


    Julian turned his head and looked at him seriously. "Do you want to go? Go to a big city, see the sights, and check out how the streets there differ from here. I heard there''s a 38-story steel building in the capital. If you stood on top of that building, wouldn''t the view be different from what we see every day?"


    "Tourism?" Graf''s face broke into a naive smile, the kind often referred to as a "fool''s smile." He scratched the back of his head, his eyes showing a bit of longing. "Sure, I''ve always wanted to visit those places, but I never had the money before. Now that I have money, I should go and see the world. Where are you planning to go? And for how long?"


    Julian flicked his cigarette butt away and laughed twice.


    "Tourism?"


    "No!"


    "It''s conquest!"


    When Julian uttered those words, Graf suddenly felt a surge of blood rushing through his veins. A strange power emerged from within his body, filling him entirely. His face flushed red as he swung his arms, thicker than a girl''s waist, as if wanting to hit something, but there was nothing to vent on. His nostrils flared, and his breathing became heavy, making a snorting sound.


    He didn''t know what had come over him, but he felt an inexplicable impulse in his heart, though he couldn''t quite grasp it. His instincts told him this was the most important moment of his life, like when he turned forty dollars into six thousand. Last time, he seized the opportunity, but this time, though he saw the chance, he didn''t know how to grasp it.


    It felt like he was on the brink of an explosive breakthrough, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn''t reach it.


    Pain, confusion, and frustration!


    Sometimes life is like that¡ªyou see it, but it doesn''t belong to you.


    "I have an idea. I will take out 9% of the profit-sharing rights as a reward mechanism, a way to strengthen our power. If you''re willing, you can take out a portion too, and we can do this together. Of course, it''s not mandatory, so you know it''s like an early investment."


    Graf thought for a while and hesitantly said, "How about I take out 5%?"


    He thought Julian would refuse because Julian was offering 9%, while he only offered 5%. But Graf had his own considerations. He already received one-tenth less than Julian, so if he offered another 9% or 10%, he''d lose another tenth. If Julian had asked him yesterday, he would have agreed without hesitation to take out 10% or more because, back then, he didn''t understand what 10% truly meant.


    But today, he understood.


    Ten percent could mean three to five thousand or even thirty to fifty thousand.


    For someone like Graf, who had only ever saved forty dollars his entire life, offering up profit sharing worth seven to eight hundred dollars was no small feat.


    Julian didn''t object, didn''t refuse, and didn''t try to persuade him to offer more. He just nodded and said "good," and that seemed to settle the matter. He then asked Graf to bring in Dave.


    In the brief moment before Dave entered, Julian felt quite disappointed inside. He had hoped Graf would display a certain quality¡ªa leadership quality, an aggressive spirit. But, unfortunately, this guy wasn''t as strong as he appeared on the outside. He was just like an ordinary person. When he was so poor that he had nothing to lose, he was willing to gamble everything.


    But now that he had something, he became cautious.


    Simply put, his vision wasn''t big enough, and that was sad because it meant he wouldn''t be able to keep up, as his ambition had already reached its limit.


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 Chapter 48 - 48 The First Group Leader Of The Fellowship Association

    In simple terms, it''s like drawing a map.


    Two people are given a map, and the facilitator tells them to draw circles. The wealth within the circle belongs to them. But, correspondingly, the smaller the circle, the smaller the risk; the larger the circle, the greater the risk.


    People with small visions might draw a small circle around a wealthy area, while those with larger visions would draw many circles, connecting them, or even just draw one big circle.


    Graf was thinking about protecting his small piece of land in Ternell, while Julian was already thinking about conquering the Empire State Building. That was the difference!


    Soon, Dave came in. The young man was still as handsome as ever, which left Julian a bit speechless. His woolen flat cap was pulled low, a style young people seemed to love. He wore a checkered wool sweater, revealing a pure white shirt collar, paired with fitted trousers and leather shoes¡ªa far cry from the poor kid he used to be.


    Standing in front of Julian, Dave looked a bit nervous, even though he was older than Julian.


    "I''ve heard about your past, and I regret what you''ve been through," Julian said, tossing a cigarette to Dave, who hurriedly caught it with both hands. Before Dave could light it, Julian pulled out a bronze lighter from his pocket. Lighters had only recently gained popularity, and they were expensive, though very aesthetically pleasing.


    Many people were interested in these small, sophisticated items that symbolized status, which led to a surge in lighter sales. Anyone with some money would buy one to keep in their pocket.


    Of course, as the market expanded, more hot money flowed into the industry, leading to a flood of cheap, low quality brands. To date, there had already been more than a dozen incidents of burn injuries caused by kerosene leakage. As a result, people were increasingly demanding higher quality brands.


    Well known companies were doing better and raising their prices, while businesses that hadn''t built a brand were facing bankruptcy.


    Julian''s lighter was a product of "Bondy," the largest lighter manufacturing company in the Empire, with a price tag of 38 dollars.


    Dave stared at the flame, almost forgetting that he needed to lean in to light the cigarette in his mouth. He recognized the lighter, but it wasn''t its price that had him in a daze¡ªit was Julian''s gesture.


    In gangs, hierarchy and rank were strictly enforced, and the more powerful the gang, the clearer these lines were. There was never a practice of superiors lighting cigarettes for their subordinates, except in one special circumstance.


    Julian was promoting him, giving him a raise in rank.


    Dave, trembling with excitement, moved closer, cupping his hands around the flame to light his cigarette. He quickly stepped back, his facial muscles twitching as he tried to figure out how to react.


    It was all too sudden¡ªespecially after finding out how much money Julian had made, and now the possibility of a promotion. It was overwhelming.


    Julian put the lighter back in his pocket and, looking at Dave''s failed attempt to calm himself, smiled. "We are a collective, we are brothers¡ªnow and in the future. I don''t believe in establishing strict hierarchies as the best management method, but until we find a better one, this is what we have to do, even if it''s not my preferred way."


    "From today, you are the group leader!"


    "From now on, every month, you''ll receive 0.2% of the profits from the illegal liquor trade, while the rest of the brothers and sisters will share 1% of the profit. Your task is to supervise the quality of our fruit wine and prevent any mistakes. Handle them."


    "Now, go tell everyone the good news!"


    Julian waved his hand dismissively. Dave, still trembling with excitement and respect, stepped back a few paces, turned, and closed the door behind him. Just as the door clicked shut, he saw Julian standing by the window, bathed in sunlight streaming in from outside. The scene was like something out of scripture, filled with a sense of sanctity.


    As the door closed firmly, Dave''s excitement oddly faded in the last second or two, replaced by a sense of calm, even reverence. He slowly turned and, with a gentle smile on his face, walked into another large room. A small group of members had gathered there. Dave, now exuding authority, entered, and the room''s atmosphere instantly quieted.


    He glanced at each face before speaking with a smile, "I have two announcements to make."


    "First, I''m now the group leader." S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A few of the younger members whistled and cheered. Dave had a good reputation among the younger crowd. First, he had seniority¡ªnot only had he been in the game for years, but he had also done time in prison and had connections with several gangs in Ternell. In the eyes of these young people, respect for someone stemmed from two things:


    They could fight, or they had money.


    Hearing that Dave had been promoted to group leader was a source of encouragement for this group. In gang culture, a group leader or captain wasn''t exactly what the title suggested; it didn''t necessarily mean managing a specific number of people or overseeing specific tasks.


    The title was more like a placeholder for someone responsible for "a task." For example, if Julian needed something done, he would appoint a group leader, who would then gather people based on the task''s requirements.


    If the job succeeded, there would be rewards, if it failed, the blame would fall on the group leader. Naturally, group leaders did have higher status and income than regular members, but with higher responsibility came higher stakes.


    Dave''s promotion to group leader meant that the association was no longer just a social club, and this excited the younger members. They felt that if they contributed to the association, they, too, could become group leaders in the future.


    Dave raised his hand to acknowledge the group''s cheers with a smile. "The second thing is, starting today, the farm will take out 1% of its income each month and share it among all of you!"

 Chapter 49 - 49 Power Of Money

    If Dave''s promotion represented a new chapter for them, the announcement about profit sharing directly affected everyone''s personal interests. Especially after hearing the girls earlier share their experience counting the money, these young people couldn''t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. Something as simple as that had generated tens of thousands of dollars¡ªa truly astronomical amount!


    Some of them were already daydreaming about how great it would be if they, too, could get a share.


    As these thoughts swirled in their heads, Dave dropped the good news, and all eyes lit up with excitement. They couldn''t help but cheer loudly.


    Sure, it was only 1%, and 99% wasn''t theirs. But everyone understood that even a 1% share represented several hundred dollars. The association had only 29 members, so each person would get at least 10 dollars.


    And that was just for Ternell. What if they expanded the illegal liquor trade to the entire state or even the whole country? Then 1% of the profits each month could reach tens of thousands of dollars, or more!


    Being a member of the association meant receiving a monthly stipend, which they could see as a salary. Now, they would get an additional 10 dollars or so. This sizable income would change every family''s situation, which was exactly what they had hoped for¡ªthrough their own hands and hard work, they could change their family''s difficult circumstances.


    Julian smiled as he listened to the cheers of "Long live the Fellowship Association!" and "Long live Julian!" coming from the next room. He wasn''t smiling because of their loyalty but because of the sheer power that money had over people.


    With money, you could do anything. That was the universal rule in any world. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    From the Emperor of the Empire to the common folk, no one could escape the grip of money. Perhaps money took on different forms at higher levels, but its essence never changed.


    While the young members of the association were cheering for Julian on one street, three grim faced men were sitting together on another.


    These men were part of the city''s high end illegal liquor suppliers, controlling the mid to high end market for strong illegal liquor in Ternell. The launch of "First Love" and "Snow Elf" hadn''t affected the low end fruit wine market, because at 5 to 6 dollars a glass, these drinks were beyond the reach of low end consumers.


    So whatever changes occurred in the mid to high end market, it had no connection to the lower end market.


    But for the business of these three men, the impact was heavy.


    Ternell was a small city, and the three of them were already unhappy with how the mid to high end strong liquor market was divided. If it weren''t for the fact that a gang war wouldn''t guarantee profits exceeding the costs, they would have torn each other apart long ago. Their mutual dislike wasn''t a secret, but that didn''t mean they''d allow an outsider to enter the market.


    In just one night, their revenue had plummeted. Both young and middle aged customers had been drawn to "First Love" and "Snow Elf," either out of curiosity or genuine preference. The first day''s sales were outstanding.


    Perhaps it was just a temporary trend that would die down over time, but no matter how much it cooled off, some people would continue choosing these two drinks, taking up a portion of the market.


    Money had a way of making people do things they''d never imagine. The three men, who had previously been at each other''s throats, now sat together, united by their frustration.


    These three men, judging solely by their attire and appearance, might be mistaken for members of high society. Each wore suits tailored by the finest seamstresses in the city and shoes handcrafted by the most renowned cobblers. A few trendy or classical accessories adorned them, making them look like big shots.


    But beneath this exterior, they were nothing more than bootleggers, violating both imperial law and divine mandates by selling high proof illegal alcohol.


    The power of money is remarkable, it can transform a person into someone else with just a little bit of spending.


    The room was small, and Wood, seated near the door, appeared to be in his forties. His slicked back hair was meticulously combed, not a single strand out of place, even as his head moved. His thick yet short eyebrows resembled two triangular patches of hair above his eyes, and his narrow eyes gleamed with a cold, fierce light. In the entire city of Ternell, no one was unaware of his reputation.


    People "respectfully" called him "Wood the Lumberjack." At nineteen, he took an ax and chopped three vagabonds who attempted to rob him into dozens of pieces. It took him less than a decade to climb to the top of Ternell''s elite. Even today, some people would boast about his past deeds to flatter him. He was an interesting character.


    Ever since becoming one of the elites, he saw himself as different from the people he once looked down upon. He was always careful about maintaining his image, presenting himself as a cultured and sophisticated man no matter the occasion.


    No one would believe that Wood, who now wore a sullen expression, could be the same man who normally appeared so gentle.


    The silence in the room made him uncomfortable, and even his breathing became heavier. He tugged at his collar and knocked his knuckles twice on the table. "Gentlemen, we need a plan. We can''t let this unknown person destroy our business!"


    Two bottles of alcohol sat on the table¡ªSnow Elf and First Love. Each man had two glasses in front of him, and they had all tasted both. They had to admit, they preferred the rich, slightly bitter flavor of First Love over the cool, fruity taste of Snow Elf. Overall, these newly introduced high proof bootleg liquors surpassed their own in both taste and quality.


    "Have you looked into these labels?" asked a man in his thirties, with fair skin and somewhat handsome features. His thick eyebrows and large eyes matched the current societal ideals of beauty, and his flaxen hair gave him a refined and gentle appearance¡ªa benefit of his mixed heritage, which allowed him to stand out visually.

 Chapter 50 - 50 Woods Nephew

    If Julian were present, he would be shocked to see this man. This was the very person who helped Julian earn his easiest money ever.


    His name was Ernst. He owned a wine cellar and a brewing company. Officially, he produced and sold low proof alcohol, but in reality, he was constantly producing high proof bootleg liquor. Since it was a family business, they had long since established the necessary connections. In fact, his father was a regular guest of the mayor.


    Even though the other two men at the table wanted to get rid of him, they had to admit they didn''t have the guts to do it.


    Wood picked up one of the bottles and glanced at the label on the back, letting out a cold chuckle. "I had already asked some federal suppliers about it, and none of them had ever heard of the ''Dawn of Tomorrow'' distillery, nor had they tasted such a drink."


    Julian''s plan to change the labels and manufacturing companies of the three suppliers had worked perfectly, leaving a false trail that was impossible to follow.


    Ernst nodded but said nothing. He turned to the third man at the table, an old man named Carrell. Carrell had a head of silver hair, giving him a kindly appearance, but anyone who knew him was aware of how many crimes he had committed and how many people he had killed. He survived in this world because he was ruthless. Anyone who dared testify against him would soon find their entire family dead.


    His cold blooded decisiveness had led to situations where, even when prosecuted, there was no one left willing to testify against him.


    Of course, Carrell had survived this long because he was willing to spend money. He had plenty of it, and he often said, "If you can''t prove the value of money, then why be enslaved by it?"


    He had certainly proven himself right. From the mayor to the police chief, even a nobleman, they were all his friends. He had bought his way into their homes and into their friendships, proving the power of money.


    Carrell ran his fingers through his thinning silver hair¡ªhe was balding, so he needed to keep it curled. "There''s only been one shipment of low proof alcohol at the station recently. No high proof stuff."


    The other two exchanged looks. In their minds, low proof alcohol and high proof alcohol were two completely different things. Low proof alcohol was mostly made from fruit, so it was cheap but had many flaws. For instance, it wasn''t very clear, and you could still feel the grainy texture of the fruit pulp when drinking it.


    There was also the occasional sour taste, like that of rotten fruit, which dampened the drinking experience. But because it was so cheap, even the lowest paid workers could afford it, so sales were decent.


    High-proof alcohol, on the other hand, was a different beast. It was made with dragonwood shavings, which couldn''t just come from any tree. Only dragonwood aged at least 3 years could be used. After being dried naturally, the bark was removed, and the wood was sealed in a kiln at over 300 degrees Celsius. Once the temperature in the kiln cooled to room temperature, the wood would turn blood-red.


    This blood-red dragonwood was then finely shaved into splinters, mixed with spices, and added to a composite blend of brewing materials.


    These shavings helped purify the mash, and the higher the quantity, the higher the proof of the alcohol produced. Dragonwood splinters were single use and expensive, which kept the price of high proof alcohol consistently high. Even though countries had large dragonwood plantations, it was still far from enough to meet the global demand for alcoholic beverages.


    To these men, low proof alcohol was low proof alcohol, and high proof alcohol was high proof alcohol. Low proof alcohol could never become high proof, though high proof alcohol could be diluted into low proof if watered down.


    Since they couldn''t trace the new competitor threatening their profits, they had no choice but to use the most straightforward method.


    "I remember the owner of Wild Rose is your nephew, right?" Ernst asked, turning to Wood. Wood''s face twitched, and he reluctantly nodded. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He never liked to admit that Colt was his nephew, but he couldn''t deny the family connection. Colt was a distant relative of Wood''s wife who had come running to reconnect as soon as he heard that Wood had become a big shot. Somehow, through sweet talk, Colt had managed to convince Wood''s wife, and now Wood had a nephew.


    When his wife asked him to help Colt, Wood thought for a long time and finally decided to lend Colt some money to open a bar.


    Since Wood was involved in bootlegging, he knew very well how profitable bars could be. Colt followed his advice and opened one. On the surface, their relationship should have been fine, but the problem was Colt''s habit of taking advantage of others.


    Whenever Colt''s bar ran out of alcohol, he would call Wood''s wife. She, seeing Colt as family, thought it was only natural to help him out, so she would arrange for alcohol to be delivered without discussing payment. As a result, Colt ended up selling Wood''s bootleg liquor for free, nearly driving Wood mad with rage.


    Whenever he tried to stop the shipments, his wife would accuse him of being stingy over a few thousand dollars'' worth of alcohol, causing a commotion that forced him to continue sending free shipments to Colt.


    Wood eventually managed to set a limit: only $3,000 worth of free alcohol per month. Anything beyond that had to be paid for at market price.


    But this nephew preferred to buy from Ernst or Carrell instead of Wood, claiming it was important to diversify his suppliers to avoid becoming too rigid and repetitive.


    If not for fear of upsetting his wife, Wood would have killed Colt with an ax long ago.

 Chapter 51 - 51 Wood & Colt Schemes

    So when Ernst suggested tracing the supply chain back to the source through Colt''s bar, Wood''s face darkened. He had always looked down on Colt and now had to ask for his help. However, he knew this was a serious matter and couldn''t let his personal feelings interfere.


    As for why they couldn''t approach other bars, it was because every bar in Ternell was either controlled by gangs or owned by the families of important people. None of them would agree to their request, not wanting to get involved in a brewing war.


    Colt was their only choice. Their only option.


    ...


    "Uncle Wood..." The moment the office door was suddenly pushed open, Colt''s expression turned fierce as he glared at the person entering. He was just about to hurl some harsh words when one of the two individuals, the one trailing behind, removed his bowler hat, revealing his meticulously slicked-back hair. As soon as Colt saw that hair, he knew exactly who had come. That head was all too familiar.


    Colt quickly stood up, putting on a respectful expression. He hurried over, taking Wood''s hat and coat and hanging them on a rack nearby.


    Although Wood didn''t like his freeloading nephew, he had to admit that, no matter how much you showed him disdain or cursed him, Colt would still wag his tail and stick to you like glue, shamelessly trying to please. Colt had reached the highest level of brazen shamelessness. Wood''s expression softened a bit as he surveyed Colt''s office.


    As someone who prided himself on being a refined gentleman since his rise to prominence, Wood had developed strict standards for both his own life and those around him.


    There were two glass-fronted bookshelves in the office, filled with books, which pleased Wood. Books were the steps to human progress, and reading more was always beneficial. On the wall hung a taxidermy of a large antelope, its enormous horns twisted and menacing. Even in the wild, carnivorous predators would shy away from such a majestic animal.


    However, its presence here signified that, in the natural world, it remained weak in comparison to humans.


    The office was tastefully decorated, and Wood nodded in satisfaction. He walked behind the desk and sat down. Colt, while greeting Wood''s assistant, busied himself grinding coffee beans for Wood. "It''s rare for you to visit. Is there something you need me to do? Just say the word, and I''ll do my best to get it done.


    It will surely pay off."


    Wood was accustomed to Colt''s sly and opportunistic ways. If it weren''t for his wife''s fondness for this nephew, Colt would have been sent to the slaughterhouse long ago.


    "Do you have any First Love or Snow Elf here?" Wood asked, leaning forward with his hands on the desk and looking directly at Colt.


    Colt nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I recently bought a batch, and it almost wiped out all my savings!" He sighed, "It''s expensive, but sales have been pretty good."


    Wood had remarkable patience. If he were ten years younger, he would have picked up the 10 kilogram crystal ashtray on the desk and hurled it at Colt. He wasn''t here to ask for repayment or borrow money, so why was Colt leading with how broke he was?


    Taking a deep breath, Wood brushed it off as trivial and not worth getting angry over. He then asked, "Do you know a man named Graf, from the Guar people?"


    At the mention of Graf, Colt instantly understood that Wood''s visit wasn''t really about him. His smile became more genuine as he placed the coffee pot on the stove and sat down in a chair. "Of course, I know him. Graf is somewhat well known among the Guars, a good hearted fellow. He''s the one in charge of the First Love and Snow Elf business right now."


    Wood looked at Colt. "Good. I want you to tell him that First Love and Snow Elf are sold out and to send another batch."


    Colt was momentarily stunned and immediately grasped the situation. He was well aware of Wood''s business, having heard about it from his aunt, and he had even dealt with Wood himself. Knowing what Wood was up to, Colt wasn''t worried about getting dragged into this conflict. With Wood''s connections and methods, he was sure to bring Graf''s backers to their knees.


    Feeling a surge of excitement, Colt scooted his chair forward, curiosity and eagerness in his voice. "Has he offended you? That damned Guar, a country bumpkin!" He spat out a few curses at Graf before continuing, "I have no objections if you want to deal with Graf... but once that''s settled, could you let me take over the distribution of this new product?"


    The idea had ignited a stronger desire in Colt. With Wood''s support, he could use these two products to become a major player in Ternell, second only to the top three. The prospect was too tempting. However, when he saw Wood give him a disdainful glance and shake his head, Colt knew his ambitions were dashed.


    Leaning back in his chair lazily, Colt spoke with a hint of bitterness, "Uncle Wood, it''s not that I don''t want to help you, but as I mentioned earlier, all my working capital is tied up in this batch, so I can''t afford to pay for a new shipment right now."


    If he couldn''t get the big reward, he might as well drink from the pot for now. Plus, buying a new batch of alcohol wasn''t cheap. Even last time, when they only required a third of the payment upfront, it was still a considerable sum.


    Predictably, Wood''s eyes twitched. He pulled out his checkbook, glaring at Colt with a look that showed just how much he detested him. Colt, however, grinned shamelessly. "Fifteen thousand!"


    "Fifteen thousand? How could it possibly add up to that?" Wood asked, frowning as a drop of ink fell onto the checkbook. He''d heard that the bottles sold for around ten or so each, so how could it possibly add up to fifteen thousand?


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 Chapter 52 - 52 Suspicion

    With an innocent expression, Colt explained, "Just one hundred cases... and Uncle, who knows? You might even make that money back!"


    It wasn''t a small amount, but Colt wasn''t wrong. Once the money was given to Graf, and they traced it back to his supplier, neither Graf nor his supplier would need to stay alive, and the money would naturally find its way back into Wood''s pockets.


    Switching to a larger checkbook, Wood wrote a check for six thousand and tossed it to Colt. "This is the deposit. Do you really think I''ve never done business myself?"


    Colt smiled obsequiously, not daring to argue. He took the check, flicked it with his fingers, and happily tucked it into his pocket. At the same time, he stepped out into the hallway, pulling on a cord. On the other end, behind the bar, a bell rang. Every time Colt pulled the cord, the bell would chime, signaling the bar staff to come over. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Before long, a short young man hurried over, wiping his hands on a towel. "Mr. Colt!"


    "Find any Guar out on the street and tell them to inform Graf that Wild Rose Bar needs one hundred cases of alcohol. I''ll provide enough of a deposit." Colt pulled two fifty-cent coins from his pocket, placing one in the young man''s hand. "This is your tip for running the errand." He then placed the other coin into the young man''s hand as well. "This is for the Guar.


    They won''t run errands for you for nothing. Got it?"


    The young man nodded excitedly, clutching the coins as he ran out the door.


    Most of the Guars lived on King''s Avenue, which wasn''t far from here. Despite the grand name, King''s Avenue was no rich district but rather a slum, where the city''s poorest residents lived. Those who lived in the slums knew most of their neighbors, at least by reputation.


    In contrast, the wealthy residents of neighborhoods like Malt Garden often didn''t even know how many people lived across the street from them.


    The richer you were, the colder you became¡ªa universal truth in all parts of the world.


    The young man quickly found a Guar, offering him twenty cents. "Please tell Graf that Wild Rose Bar needs one hundred cases of alcohol."


    When Graf heard from a snot-nosed child, barely seven or eight years old, that Wild Rose Bar needed a hundred cases of alcohol, he had a strange feeling, as though someone might be trying to trick him. After asking a few questions, he learned that an adult had paid the child five cents to deliver the message. Fortunately, the kid had some sense of duty. Otherwise...


    One hundred cases were no small order, worth nearly sixteen thousand dollars. Graf was puzzled, as he had only delivered fifty cases recently. Had they really sold out in just three or four days? Something didn''t seem right.


    ...


    "Wild Rose ordered so much stock at once, I think there might be a problem."


    Graf stood beside Julian and voiced his thoughts. He had checked, and the alcohol was delivered three days ago. In just three days, fifty cases of alcohol were sold? That''s way too fast! Maybe the enormous profits from selling high-proof bootleg liquor were making Graf, a big guy as sturdy as a bear, feel nervous.


    Julian had his own perspective on Graf''s concerns.


    First of all, it''s not accurate to say fifty cases of alcohol were sold in just three days. That''s a misconception. No experienced merchant would wait until their inventory is completely depleted before thinking about restocking, so the Wild Rose Bar should still have some stock left. In the business world, there''s a well known but unspoken rule: when inventory drops to 30%, it''s time to restock.


    This means the Wild Rose Bar probably still has about a dozen cases of alcohol.


    Secondly, Graf made another mistake. The fifty cases of alcohol were actually split into two different categories, so it''s more accurate to say there were twenty-five cases of each, making fifty in total. Based on different customer preferences, the sales volumes of each category could vary. If each type sold about a dozen cases in three days, while exaggerated, it''s not impossible.


    That''s around thirty or forty bottles a day per type. Calculating five servings per bottle, that''s less than two hundred servings.


    Julian wasn''t sure how many customers the Wild Rose Bar hosted daily, but if we assume each customer drank two servings, and two hundred customers chose their drinks, the restocking demand wouldn''t be that surprising.


    While these numbers might seem a bit exaggerated, it''s not impossible. Besides selling drinks by the glass to customers on-site, the bar also sells bottles for customers to take home. If someone really liked "First Love" or "Snow Elf," they might buy a bottle or two to drink at home or purchase several bottles for a party.


    With that in mind, the Wild Rose Bar''s sales figures don''t seem unreasonable, and there''s nothing particularly suspicious going on. At most, it means the bar''s positioning is excellent, and both types of alcohol have a broad appeal among its customers.


    After explaining this to the muscle bound giant Graf, Julian sent him off to handle the delivery. Julian believed that as the new flavors of high-proof fruit liquor continued to sell and resonate with customers, the supply would only increase. This meant buying a truck needed to be prioritized. After all, they couldn''t expect the guys to carry two cases each and run to make the delivery, right?


    Even using carts or horse-drawn wagons would carry risks.


    Julian thought for a moment and knocked on the bell at the corner of his desk. The sharp sound pierced through the air, and the office door immediately opened. Over the past three days, a simple renovation of the first floor of No. 117 had given it a slightly more commercial feel.


    Dave pushed the door open and stuck his head in, "Boss?"

 Chapter 53 - 53 Unexpected Encounter With The Police

    Julian waved him in, and Dave stepped inside, closing the door behind him.


    "Wild Rose Bar ordered a hundred cases, and Graf thinks there''s something off. I sent him to deliver it, but we can''t ignore his concerns. It could be, as he suspects, a trap this time," Julian said after thinking for a moment, organizing his thoughts. "We''ve shaken up the original market with what we''re doing, so it''s bound to provoke a reaction from the big players.


    Tonight, take some men, arm yourselves, and follow them. If anything happens, handle it."


    Dave was now the only team leader within the community association, so if Julian needed to assign someone, it would naturally be him. He was earning more money and holding a higher position than the others, so it was only fair that he took on more responsibility.


    Dave nodded firmly, indicating he understood. Before leaving, Julian reminded him again to be careful and not act unless absolutely necessary. But once they did, they had to clean up thoroughly.


    Julian didn''t have his own network in Ternell City yet, and he was still navigating in the dark. His only real connection was Kevin. Kevin had promised to introduce him to some contacts, but that would take a few days.


    As this crossed his mind, Julian''s gaze drifted downward to the newspaper.


    "Prosecutor Camille has filed charges against the out of town girl Nasha, stating that he has solid evidence proving that the man known as ''Leather Pants,'' Morris, was killed in a premeditated murder. This case has drawn attention across the city. Rising star lawyer Kevin expressed his strong dissatisfaction with Camille and the city court.


    He hinted that Camille''s true motivation for prosecuting Nasha was to secure a high profile case that would help him rise to the position of State Prosecutor."


    "Kevin''s plan," Julian smiled. They had set up a crime scene full of holes, all to draw out Prosecutor Camille. Then Kevin would strike and bring him down. In the world of lawyers, prosecutors are lifelong adversaries, constantly challenging every argument, scrutinizing every piece of evidence to find fatal flaws.


    Kevin had already signed a contract with one of the three top law firms in the capital, Wiener Law, but before leaving, he had to score one impressive win. A case that would show the snobby capital lawyers that even someone from a small town like Kevin couldn''t be underestimated.


    There was no case better suited for that than this one¡ªtaking a hopeless case, where all the evidence pointed to Nasha being guilty of conspiracy to murder Morris, and flipping it entirely.


    Not only would this land a heavy blow on Camille, who had a high chance of becoming the next State Prosecutor, but it would also gain widespread public and social support, making people temporarily forget Kevin''s past associations with questionable clients. This was the gift Kevin had prepared, both for himself and for Julian.


    Once Kevin won this case, he would gain respect in Ternell''s high society. The wealthier the setting, the more likely it was to hide filth in its corners. Were the city''s powerful elites truly as clean as they appeared? No. No one was clean. That''s why they would all want a "brilliant lawyer" friend like Kevin.


    Once Kevin had public support, the backing of the legal community, and the endorsement of high society, he would have the key to his career''s pinnacle.


    At that point, he would introduce Julian to the others. Whether out of respect for Kevin or not, they would accept Julian.


    Of course, Julian would need to contribute something as well.


    Money.


    Not just a few hundred or thousand dollars.


    But thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, to win over those who could help Julian''s career.


    The chief of police, the head of the Imperial Tax Office, the leader of the Imperial Gendarmerie, and even the mayor of Ternell City!


    That''s why the $15,000 profit was still sitting in the safe. Julian needed that money.


    Night descended without people noticing, deepening as they got caught up in other things. The streetlights flickered on, but there weren''t many pedestrians. Three horse drawn wagons trotted along the road. For the wealthy, cars were their go to transportation, but for the average person, horse drawn wagons were still more familiar.


    As the three wagons neared their destination, just one intersection away from the Wild Rose Bar, they ran into a bit of trouble.


    Two police officers in gray uniforms stopped them.


    "What''s in the wagon?" One officer approached the back and lifted the canvas covering with his rubber coated baton. Inside, it was packed with goods, but in the dim light, it was hard to make out exactly what was there.


    Graf stood to one side, scratching his head with a silly grin. "It''s food. A kind hearted gentleman gave us some food, and we''re taking it to the orphanage."


    The officer sneered, placing his foot on the wagon''s footboard and grabbing the side to hoist himself in.


    Has anyone ever asked you how much you would risk for a big reward? To do something you knew was dangerous, something that violated both morals and the law?


    Nobody had ever asked Graf that, but it didn''t matter, because he had already made up his mind. His past struggles and the happiness he now held tightly in his hands left him no doubt about his choice.


    When a person has nothing, they don''t care much about loss or gain, but when someone who once had nothing finally possesses something, their greatest fear becomes losing it.


    The smile on Graf''s face slowly faded. In the dim light, his usually dull eyes gleamed with a cold glint. He raised his hand and firmly gripped the police officer''s hand, which was holding onto the wagon''s edge.


    The officer, halfway into the wagon, paused and turned to look at him, an unspoken disdain in his eyes. "What are you trying to do?" he asked.


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 Chapter 54 - 54 Bloody Actions

    Graf reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of money. This was the pocket money Julian had given him, a small compensation from the first round of profits. Graf had no complaints; he knew that without Julian, he wouldn''t be able to handle anything. Besides, it wasn''t a small sum¡ª100 dollars. After spending some on food, drinks, and women, he still had over 70 left.


    For most people in these times, that amount of money was equivalent to what they could save after a year of scrimping and saving. Graf stopped counting after a few bills and shoved the rest directly into the officer''s pocket, gently patting it afterward, smoothing out the wrinkles on the officer''s coat.


    "It''s late, officer. You must be tired from patrolling all night. Why not head to the restaurant ahead and grab something warm to eat?" Graf''s tone was soft and ingratiating, but his eyes told a different story.


    To Julian, Graf might seem simple and foolish, but that didn''t mean Graf lacked life experience.


    What is life experience?


    Life is like a gigantic, relentless giant that constantly slaps everyone across the face. When you feel the sting from one of those slaps, that pain is life experience. Everyone grows through repeated blows until they learn enough to dodge when life''s hand swings again.


    Graf had life experience, so he handled the situation in a way he believed would work.


    Under the dim streetlight, the officer''s eyes gleamed with greed, brighter than the light itself. He had seen the money Graf was counting¡ªat least 50 dollars. His experience told him there was no less than 50 dollars in that roll. But 50 wasn''t enough to satisfy him. If Graf was willing to part with 50 dollars, the cargo in those wagons must be worth much more.


    It could be hundreds, even thousands of dollars or more. As a police officer, he knew all too well about the shady dealings in Ternell City. He knew how the big players built their empires, and he knew who ran the dirty businesses. That''s why he had stopped these wagons¡ªbecause he didn''t recognize the men with them. They were new faces.


    Never underestimate the power of the unspoken rules. Both the gangs and the police adhered to a code that most people couldn''t see. Every operation, every scheme had its procedures. But tonight was different¡ªno one had informed him about any deliveries on this route. This felt like an opportunity. And wasn''t it his duty, as a police officer, to uphold justice and stop crime?


    Fully climbing into the wagon, the officer caught a faint whiff of alcohol. A flash of elation crossed his face. Just as he knew this city inside and out, he also knew the incredible profits from bootleg liquor. If this wagon''s cargo became his, he could leave this city immediately, no questions asked.


    But to be sure, he decided to pry open one of the crates. After all, the cargo might just be low-proof fruit wine instead of stronger, more lucrative contraband.


    The wood creaked under the pressure of his baton as he pried it open. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled out a bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig. His face instantly flushed red.


    Just as the officer decided to seize the cargo, Graf made a tough decision. The wagons had stopped, and the young men in the back were gathering. Graf glanced at the other officer, who was leaning against the wagon''s driver''s seat, smoking. A few of the boys nodded at him in understanding.


    Graf then pulled out a short steel rod from behind his back and climbed onto the wagon.


    Ever since Morris''s murder, Graf knew he had taken a different path, and one day he''d have to make choices like this.


    But he had no regrets.


    The wagon swayed slightly as Graf boarded. The officer inside turned, ready to intimidate the large man, just as he was about to take control of the cargo. But before he could speak, Graf swung the steel rod¡ªcommon on construction sites¡ªstriking the officer on the head.


    Graf quickly stepped forward, catching the collapsing officer and quietly laying him down.


    Outside, the smoking officer had just crushed his cigarette underfoot when he realized something was wrong. As he reached for his gun, the group of boys surrounding him moved in closer, crowding him. His hand reached for his holster, but the young men pressed in too tightly.


    His gaze drifted down, and he saw it¡ªa knife pressed against his waist. The sharp sting of the blade was unmistakable, even through his clothing. He hadn''t panicked yet. He hadn''t expected them to actually pull a weapon. But soon enough, fear crept in. The terror in his eyes replaced the earlier disdain.


    As he opened his mouth to shout, one of the boys covered it, while another swung a brick, hitting him squarely on the head.


    The entire altercation took less than ten seconds. With the help of two or three boys, the officer was dragged into the wagon.


    Graf, his excitement barely contained, wiped the blood from his steel rod onto the officer''s uniform before taking the money from his pocket. He spat on the ground, sheathed his knife, and nodded. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The curtain of the wagon was drawn back. Graf helped lift the second "sleeping" officer inside, and the wagons resumed their slow journey.


    Apart from a few faint bloodstains, there was little evidence of what had happened. Even if there had been witnesses, who would dare say or do anything?


    If this group was bold enough to attack police officers, would they hesitate to harm ordinary citizens?


    Under the dim streetlights, the three wagons gradually disappeared into the night beyond the intersection, as if they had never stopped.


    A few moments later, a terrified bystander peeked out from the shadows of a nearby alley, shivering as he looked toward where the wagons had vanished.


    He was just a simple vagrant, not looking for trouble. He decided to leave.


    As he hurried away, fear and panic caused him to bump into another passerby.


    There weren''t many people on the streets of Ternell City at this hour, especially in this less busy area, where pedestrians were scarce after 8 p.m.

 Chapter 55 - 55 Proceeding With The Transaction

    Apologizing, he looked up, only to find himself facing another group of young men.


    The leader wore a flat cap and a trench coat, its open front revealing a checkered wool sweater underneath.


    "Watch where you''re going!" the young man said.


    The vagrant nodded repeatedly. The young man seemed to reconsider something, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a one dollar bill and tucking it into the vagrant''s coat.


    "It''s getting cold. Go buy yourself something warm for the winter."


    Stunned, the vagrant watched as the group walked away. It wasn''t until they were out of sight that he finally looked down at his torn pocket, where the one dollar bill lay silently.


    "How do you use this thing?" Graf asked as he toyed with the handgun he had taken from the unconscious police officer. He wasn''t genuinely interested in learning how to use the weapon, but he needed something to distract him from the fear gnawing at him after the attack on the police.


    In the moment he knocked out the officer, Graf had felt a surge of bloodthirsty excitement, as if some long suppressed instinct had suddenly been unleashed. But after that brief rush, he returned to being a regular person, filled with anxiety and fear.


    When people cross the boundary of law, they feel an overwhelming power in that moment, as if they are no longer restrained by law, morality, or society, and can become a different person entirely, free to do as they please.


    However, once they step back from that boundary, they, like Graf, start to worry. The chains of law, society, and morality bind the most complete version of a person, locking their true self deep within their soul, never to see the light of day.


    That''s why he needed something to occupy his mind, to keep from dwelling on the consequences of attacking a police officer.


    His question was a good one, because most of the boys in this group came from single-parent homes¡ªfathers who had been forcibly drafted to the front lines as cannon fodder. Because of this, they all had some familiarity with firearms.


    No sooner had Graf finished speaking than a boy named Simoric took the gun from him, holding it expertly.


    "First, you need to decide whether you actually plan to use it. See this part?" Simoric pointed to a small button near the grip of the gun. "You press this down, then push this up... and you''re ready to shoot."


    In this world, firearms still used crystal energy as their driving force. It seemed the whole world revolved around these crystals¡ªlarge machines of war were powered by them, as were steam engines. The base of the handgun''s grip housed a sealed energy chamber, and as long as the heat energy from the crystal wasn''t fully depleted, the steam pressure would keep the chamber sealed.


    When the safety mechanism was toggled, the crystal was pushed into a catalyst chamber, triggering a reaction.


    Once the trigger was pulled, the projectile, or "bullet," was launched by the immense pressure, capable of causing lethal damage.


    The bullet was a hollow metal cylinder, just 7 millimeters in diameter and 1 centimeter long, with a conical tip. The range of this police-issued handgun was only about twenty meters, with a firing rate of just two rounds per second.


    In the military, there were larger firearms with a variety of uses¡ªover a dozen types in total. Some could fire continuously, with rates reportedly reaching five rounds per second. The most powerful automatic weapon, however, was likely the heavy gun mounted on the AT-12 platform, with twelve barrels...


    Graf quickly learned how to operate the relatively simple handgun. After fiddling with it for a bit, the Wild Rose Bar came into view.


    Compared to the dark stretch of road they had just traversed, entering the center of Ternell City was like stepping into a different world¡ªbrighter, more bustling. Nearly all the city''s wealth and activity were concentrated within these few blocks. The wagons circled around to the back alley of the Wild Rose Bar, avoiding the front entrance.


    The bar''s employees, already waiting, quickly called out for Mr. Colt. As soon as Colt saw Graf, he spread his arms wide, stepping forward to give the large man an awkward hug. When they parted, Colt glanced down at his clothes, noticing a smudge of dirt. Though he inwardly cursed Graf, his face showed nothing but happiness. "Fantastic!


    I must say, your stuff is amazing. I didn''t expect we''d need to restock so soon. So, did you bring my goods?"


    Graf stepped back, uncomfortable with the perfumed man''s embrace. "Of course. Where''s the money?"


    "Right here!" Colt pulled out a check and handed it over. He did have cash, but that was his own. The check, however, was Wood''s. Checks were the most widely used form of currency in the world of capital, ingrained in everyday life. The Imperial Central Bank had even issued checkbooks with a maximum limit of five thousand dollars per check.


    As long as the amount did not exceed the check''s limit and had the proper signatures and codes, it could be cashed at the bank.


    Graf couldn''t tell if the check was genuine, but he remembered Julian''s advice: don''t worry about Colt not paying up¡ªunless Colt didn''t want to see the sunrise the next day. It wasn''t an idle threat. As a businessman dabbling in illegal activities, Colt knew full well the consequences of cheating. If he took what wasn''t his, he had better be prepared to lose the hand that reached for it. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After pocketing the check, Graf looked at him again. "There''s more."


    "More?!" Colt froze for a moment. "I just gave it to you!"


    Graf gave him a strange look, forcing Colt to check himself for anything out of place. He was acting so naturally that Graf couldn''t tell whether he had truly forgotten or was putting on a show.


    "The balance from the last shipment. You''ve sold most of the goods already, so it''s time to settle the account." Graf reminded him, and Colt''s face fell.

 Chapter 56 - 56 Inevitable Gang War

    He had been so focused on pocketing a hundred cases of alcohol on the side that he had completely forgotten that restocking meant settling up the previous balance. Illegal liquor wasn''t a legitimate business, and it was under the constant threat of crackdown by both imperial and religious authorities. No bootlegger ever allowed a buyer to hold back payment.


    The rule was simple: each shipment was paid in full as soon as it was sold. No one had ever heard of paying for illegal goods on an installment plan.


    It wasn''t a small sum¡ªseveral thousand dollars!


    Because it was no small amount, Graf''s expression gradually darkened, and a deadly aura began to emanate from him, likely heightened by the fact that he had just killed someone. The murderous intent was so thick it seemed to seep from his very being.


    Colt blinked, then quickly laughed. "Of course! I was just messing with you. Don''t take it seriously!" He raised his hand, intending to pat Graf''s shoulder, a habit of his. Colt liked to do this to show his superiority over others, but in this moment, his hand froze in midair.


    It was as if an invisible wall had risen between Colt and Graf, stopping him from crossing the boundary.


    Colt gave a dry laugh and waved his arm. "Wait here a moment. I''ll go get the money. Can''t exactly carry that much cash on me, can I? I had to make sure you were really here first."


    This explanation made sense, and Graf''s deadly glare began to fade. Colt quickly rushed back inside the bar, cursing under his breath.


    "Damn filthy Guar," he muttered, glancing at the dark stains on his clothing, his hatred for them growing. When he reached his office, he opened his safe and pulled out the remainder of the payment, stacking the bills together. It pained him to see the money¡ªhis "little darlings"¡ªleaving him.


    Returning to the back door, Colt quickly handed over the cash to Graf, watching as the big man tucked the money into a small iron box. The sight filled Colt with an overwhelming sense of loss.


    That was his money!


    Silently, Colt cursed them, hoping they wouldn''t survive the night.


    Once all the goods were unloaded into the bar''s storage, Graf and his men left with the money. Colt, still smiling, waved them off at the back door as if he couldn''t bear to see them go. Yet his lips moved, silently spitting out every foul word he could think of.


    Back in the office, Wood suddenly appeared.


    Tonight''s business was no small matter, so there was no way Wood wouldn''t personally oversee it. He had stayed out of sight earlier to avoid any accidental encounter with Graf in the office. Instead, he had been hiding at the bar, warming himself with a drink.


    Just as Wood was about to speak, his eyes sharpened. He strode toward Colt, who instinctively held his breath. Wood extended a finger and touched the two dark, sticky stains on Colt''s clothes, sniffing them.


    With his previous experience in killing many gang rivals, he immediately knew what it was. His expression turned grim.


    Pacing back and forth a few times, Wood put on his hat and quickly headed out.


    Watching Wood hastily disappear into the night, Colt looked down at the two dark stains on his shirt. Mimicking Wood''s actions, he touched the spots with his fingers, rubbed them, and sniffed, coming to a simple conclusion¡ªthe Guar are filthy!


    What Colt couldn''t understand was that the stains were actually dried, oxidized blood, and he certainly didn''t realize that Wood had rushed off because he underestimated Graf and the others.


    A person who has harmed or even killed someone experiences a profound change in mentality. Before crossing that line, they are bound by society''s moral and ethical rules, always seeking to resolve conflicts peacefully. But once that line is crossed, their perspective shifts completely. This was something Wood knew all too well.


    Before he killed those three vagrants who had tried to drag him into an alley, he had been a dreamer. But after taking lives, he stopped dreaming¡ªbecause he had realized and achieved his "dreams" through force.


    Crossing the line of morality isn''t difficult; it only takes a small step forward.


    Once someone has crossed that line, when they face danger, they no longer think about how to defuse it. Instead, they draw their weapon and eliminate the threat entirely.


    Wood had initially thought that these new faces, Graf and his group, were just inexperienced kids. But now he realized his mistake¡ªthey weren''t sheep; they were wolves.


    It wasn''t entirely Wood''s fault for misjudging them. His years of experience, while invaluable, had caused him to overlook some basic truths. These newcomers hadn''t made any introductions or sought permission from the established powers before entering the market, nor had they sent anyone to smooth things over. They had simply barged in, breaking the unspoken rules of the underworld.


    New players had to respect the existing order, or they would face consequences¡ªsometimes losing money, sometimes losing their lives. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    However, those drops of blood made Wood realize that this wasn''t just about cutting out a small, inconvenient branch from a larger tree. This was war.


    War is a terrifying concept, whether it''s between nations, gangs, or factions. In war, one side is completely wiped out, and any ceasefires or reconciliations are just delays in the inevitable outcome.


    Wood wanted to push these new faces out of Ternell City and reclaim his share of the market, but he didn''t want to wage war.


    Unfortunately, he had chosen the wrong opponents and used the wrong strategy.


    After years of dominance, Wood had grown overconfident, leading him to make a grave error in judgment.


    Standing at the dark crossroads, the chill autumn wind biting at his skin, Wood felt lost. He didn''t know which way to turn, much like how he now stood at a crossroads in his life, filled with uncertainty.

 Chapter 57 - 57 Capturing Woods Men

    Meanwhile, the three wagons were moving faster on their return journey than when they had arrived. Having unloaded a hundred cases of alcohol, even the horses seemed more spirited. In the back of the wagon, Graf lifted a hidden compartment and stashed the money box inside.


    Julian had specifically requested the compartment be built, not just to hide money, but also to store contraband in case of a search.


    Sitting in the wagon with the two unconscious police officers still lying at his feet, Graf couldn''t shake the feeling of unease. He glanced at the officers, unsure of what to do next. After all, these were police officers, and no matter where they were dumped, their discovery would undoubtedly cause big problems. For now, taking them back to the farm seemed like the best option.


    Perhaps Julian would have a better solution.


    The wagons had been traveling for about ten minutes when they left the bustling center of Ternell City behind. The streets grew quieter, with only the occasional passerby, heads down and hurrying along.


    Graf, lulled by the wagon''s movements, dozed off.


    What Graf didn''t know was that, just as Wood was unaware of Graf''s path, Julian had arranged for Dave and his men to follow them to prevent any surprises.


    At that moment, Dave was watching as five or six men in felt hats and trench coats trailed the wagons. After thinking it over, he decided not to make a move just yet. It wasn''t that he was afraid¡ªfar from it. But there were too many people in the city, and who knew when a vagrant might pop out of a dark alley like earlier? If a fight broke out and someone witnessed it, things could go south quickly.


    On top of that, the men following the wagons didn''t seem to want to intercept them. They were keeping a safe distance, which made Dave think it would be better to wait until they reached the outskirts before confronting them.


    Ternell City wasn''t large. About forty minutes outside the city center, the buildings had become smaller and more run-down. After passing the last intersection, even the streetlights disappeared. The only light in the darkness was the faint moonlight and the dim glow from the wagon''s lamps, like a lure for the "fish" trailing behind them.


    When they were just ten minutes from the farm, Dave and his men sprang into action. As they charged forward, the men following the wagons, alerted by the noise, immediately scattered, diving into the tall grass on either side of the road. Dave quickly split his group in two, pursuing a couple of the stragglers, shouting orders as he ran.


    The sudden noise roused Graf from his sleep. He wiped the drool from his mouth, groggy but alert enough to hear the commotion.


    "Stop the wagons!" Graf knocked on the wooden panel between the driver''s seat and the back of the wagon. The three wagons came to a halt. Graf jumped out, shivering slightly in the cool autumn air. The breeze brought with it the sound of Dave''s voice.


    "We got one! Don''t let the other one get away!"


    That single sentence was enough to snap Graf fully awake. The muscles in his cheeks twitched, and he banged on the side of the wagon, pulling down the oil lamp. "Hurry! Let''s see what''s going on!"


    With the added light, two more of the stalkers were captured and tied up, their hands bound as they were hauled into the back of the wagon. Graf looked curiously at Dave and asked, "What''s this? Out catching thieves in the middle of the night? What did they do to piss you off?"


    Dave, looking a bit disheveled with grass stuck to his beloved checkered wool sweater and mud on his shoes and pants, panted heavily as he responded, "These guys¡­ they''ve been tailing you ever since you unloaded the goods. I thought something was off about them."


    ...


    "In this world, entertainment options were limited. Without the luxury of television, most people turned to simple pastimes like reading the newspaper or finding their own ways to pass the time. Many busied themselves by having as many children as they could while still able to work.


    Some, however, might not have truly wanted so many children, but didn''t know how to avoid it.


    Julian, still single, didn''t even have that distraction, so he simply went to bed early."


    By the time Graf returned, it was already past ten. Julian had long been cozied up in his warm bed, fast asleep. Despite the Huen family''s poverty, they had kept their house well maintained, especially the beds and linens. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Just as Julian was deep in a bizarre dream, a knock on the door startled him awake. He immediately sat up, reaching under his bed for the dagger he kept hidden there, gripping it tightly in his hand.


    "Who is it?" His voice was calm and steady, showing no signs of panic or fear. He quietly slipped out of bed, threw on a piece of clothing, and stood outside his bedroom door.


    Soon enough, a familiar voice answered from outside. "It''s me. Are you asleep?" Graf''s deep voice, which always sounded a bit muffled, came through the door. Julian wasn''t sure if all big guys sounded like that, but Graf certainly did.


    Julian tucked the dagger into the waistband at the back of his pants and opened the door. Standing there was Graf, still dressed in the same clothes from earlier, with no time to change. Julian looked him up and down before asking, "Why aren''t you sleeping? What''s going on?"


    Graf hesitated, scratching his head, unsure of how to begin. After a long pause, he finally spoke, "We attacked two police officers on the road¡­ and caught some people who were following us."


    Julian''s drowsiness vanished at Graf''s words. He turned back to quickly dress and then followed Graf outside. As they walked, Graf recounted the events from the afternoon and evening. Julian had no complaints about Graf''s choices.


    Allowing those police officers to take the shipment and get away with it might seem like an easy solution, but it would only feed their greed, making them a problem that could grow into an unmanageable black hole.

 Chapter 58 - 58: A Rash Move That Ruined Any Possibility Of Reconciliation

    As long as no one witnessed it, no evidence, no weapon, and no testimonies existed, it would be nearly impossible in this era for anyone to be convicted in court.


    Once dressed, Julian walked outside with Graf. By the time they arrived, three defeated looking men were kneeling at the doorstep, their hands tied behind their backs, bound together with their feet.


    Hearing footsteps, the three men lifted their heads, their expressions filled with confusion. Before they had been captured, they had made some guesses about who could be behind the unauthorized introduction of new goods into the market without so much as a courtesy call.


    Perhaps it was a sinister old man with a hooked nose, someone who looked like he wanted to devour people with his gaze.


    Maybe it was a sharp looking middle aged man, dressed as a high society elite, like many big bosses who made their fortunes from illegal activities.


    Or maybe¡­


    But the last thing they expected was a boy. A boy who looked no older than sixteen or seventeen. How could someone like him dare to oppose the three major powers? Where did he even get the bootleg liquor to sell? A flood of questions filled their minds, but as they glanced around, they couldn''t help but shiver.


    Surrounding them were about a dozen young men, all around the same age as the boy in front of them, barely more than kids. Some still had patches of dark fuzz on their upper lips.


    "Who sent you?" Julian casually tossed a cigarette to Dave, acknowledging his successful mission. The most important thing was that Dave had shown he could think, and that was valuable. Whether in gangs, businesses, or any faction, having someone who could think was crucial. Thinkers were the real talent, and all ventures needed talented people.


    Dave caught the cigarette with both hands, walked over to Julian''s side, struck a match against his pants, and with a quick flare of white phosphorus, the match ignited. The sudden light briefly illuminated Julian''s face, casting a simple but sharp look.


    After a few puffs of smoke, Julian exhaled slowly.


    The three captives exchanged glances but remained silent. They didn''t believe these kids would actually harm them. Before the mission, their captain had told them their opponents were a bunch of greenhorns, inexperienced and not particularly dangerous. After seeing this "boss" and his main crew, they were even more convinced. These people didn''t seem dangerous at all.


    They probably hadn''t even killed anyone. They might just make a few threats and then let them go.


    There was another reason for their silence¡ªthey were too scared to talk.


    Wood''s reputation as a ruthless butcher in Ternell City''s underworld was well known. Normally, he acted like a gentleman, offering polite encouragement when things didn''t go as planned. But when someone truly angered him, he would snap, becoming violent, bloody, and savage.


    Betrayal was one of the triggers that could send him into a rage.


    Julian wasn''t surprised by their silence.


    He didn''t have a reputation in this city. Unlike the established big shots, no one feared him yet. Slowly, Julian''s right hand moved toward the dagger tucked into his waistband. He was prepared to teach them what fear really meant, using blood and pain as lessons.


    But before he could act, Graf''s muscle-bound brain clicked into gear again¡ªjust as it had when he killed the officer who had nearly discovered their bootleg operation. Back then, Julian had thought Graf seemed unusually sharp. Now, he seemed back to his normal self.


    Graf pulled the handgun he had taken from the unconscious officer out of his pocket. "Use this. It''s more interesting," he said.


    Firearms in the Empire were strictly regulated. During its conquest of other kingdoms and races, the Imperial authorities had gathered a great deal of resentment, so they didn''t want other groups gaining access to weapons. Hence, there were controls on firearms.


    Of course, as with many laws, these regulations had become a mere formality, but in a small place like Ternell City, guns were still relatively rare. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Firstly, there was little need for them. There weren''t any major fortunes or valuable resources here worth fighting over with firearms. Secondly, after a brief period of chaos following the war, a new order had been established, and people generally adhered to the rules, so guns weren''t necessary.


    When Graf produced the gun, the three kneeling men''s fates were sealed. Julian wasn''t going to let them live.


    The reason? Graf and the others had attacked two police officers and stolen their service weapons.


    Once word got out that the officers had lost their guns, these three captives, who had seen the handgun, would undoubtedly connect the dots. It wouldn''t take much for them to report this to the police chief, and once that happened, Julian and his crew would have no choice but to abandon everything and flee.


    Julian''s lips twitched. A second ago, he hadn''t intended to kill these men. All he wanted was to make money and rise to power, not to kill. He had hoped to join the game more peacefully, to become a player in the city''s underworld. To do that, someone would have had to spread the word. But now, that option was gone.


    Taking the gun from Graf, Julian quickly figured out how to use it based on Graf''s brief explanation. He flipped off the safety, pushed the crystal energy chamber into the catalyst, and felt the gun''s grip heat up¡ªa sign it was charged and ready.


    Julian walked up to the first captive, using the gun to lift the man''s chin, pressing the barrel against his forehead. His voice was calm, almost like he was talking to a friend.


    "Tell me something I want to hear, and you''ll live. They''ll die."


    How much courage can one have when facing death?


    It depends on the beliefs of the person staring death in the face. For those in some religious sects, death is not the end but a new beginning, perhaps even the start of happiness. For them, death is not something to fear, as long as it comes in the right way. They would feel fulfillment, not terror.

 Chapter 59 - 59 Interrogations

    But what about a gang member?


    Without any faith to anchor the soul, death becomes an endless abyss of fear.


    The man felt the cold touch of metal against his forehead, and his expression shifted. At first, fear flickered across his face, but then he regained his composure.


    He didn''t believe this kid standing before him could actually pull the trigger. After all, he was one of Wood the Woodsman''s men. Wood''s reputation and influence in Ternell City weren''t something just anyone would dare to cross. So instead of fear, a trace of arrogance appeared on his face. "If you''ve got the guts, go ahead and¡ª"


    Julian''s finger squeezed the trigger. The bullet shot out of the barrel at 350 meters per second, smashing through the man''s skull. As it met resistance, the hollow point of the bullet expanded, the rear end peeling back under the intense pressure. As it tore through brain tissue, the metal edges of the bullet fully unfurled, spinning and ripping through the back of his head with ease.


    With a sickening thud, a fine mist of blood and brain matter sprayed into the air, splattering in red and white fragments. The man''s body jerked back as his head snapped backward, and then he collapsed forward, falling at Julian''s feet.


    A fist-sized hole had blown open the back of his head, and thick, warm blood still steamed in the cool night air. The other two men, who had initially maintained some semblance of calm, now looked horrified.


    This kid must be insane, right?


    We''re Wood''s men! Doesn''t he fear Wood''s retribution?¡ªwait, he doesn''t even know who we are!


    The two remaining captives exchanged glances, their faces twisting in disbelief. They had overestimated their own importance. Not everyone needed to know who they were¡ªjust as not everyone in Ternell City knew who Julian was.


    Julian glanced down at the blood that had splattered on his sleep pants. He crouched down, wiped some off with his finger, and casually smeared it onto the dead man''s shoulder, muttering something to himself.


    He then moved on to the second captive, pressing the gun against the man''s forehead just as he had with the first. "See, he thought I wouldn''t shoot. I got so scared, my hand shook. Now, can you tell me who sent you, why you were following my wagons, and what you were planning to do?" Julian raised a finger to his lips. "Shh... take your time.


    Think carefully before you answer. I wouldn''t want my hand to shake again."


    Cold sweat broke out on the man''s forehead, despite the chill of autumn. His body began to tremble. It was strange how people could only truly experience deep, complex emotions when they witnessed death firsthand.


    After a tense ten seconds, Julian nodded. "So? Have you thought about it?"


    "I... I have. We''re Wood''s men..." the man stammered.


    All eyes shifted to the third man, the last one remaining. The second captive, the one with the gun to his head, turned in disbelief toward his usually loyal comrade. Had he really just rushed to answer in a life-or-death situation?


    A second later, the gun fired, and the second man fell, his expression frozen in shock and resentment. Julian had blown a hole in his head, just like the first. Julian figured that in the next life, if there was one, the man might learn to be a bit smarter.


    Of course, there was no resentment or bitterness left in the man''s body. As soon as the bullet passed through his skull, he no longer had the luxury to think or feel.


    After killing the second man, Julian tucked the gun away and turned to the third. "Congratulations, you''ve learned to answer quickly. Can I ask your name?"


    "Johnny!" The man quickly replied. "Sir, my name is Johnny, and I''m¡ª"


    Julian placed a finger on Johnny''s lips, looking at him seriously. "I ask, you answer."


    Johnny nodded rapidly, feeling like he was on the verge of madness. At that critical moment, he had the sudden urge to pee, but he didn''t dare mention it. He couldn''t stop himself, though, and soon felt the hot wetness streaming down his leg, cooling in the autumn wind.


    "Question one: Who is Wood?"


    Swallowing hard, Johnny quickly answered, "Wood is our boss. They call him Wood the Woodsman. He controls all the bootlegging and smuggling operations in Ternell, along with two others. They''ve got a stranglehold on the entire high proof bootleg market in the city."


    "Very good. That was detailed, and I''m pleased. Here''s a reward¡ªI think you''ll appreciate it." Julian took out a cigarette, placed it in Johnny''s mouth, and lit it with a kerosene lighter. "Now, for the second question: Who made these rules?"


    After a few drags on the cigarette, Johnny began to calm down. His mind cleared, and he quickly responded, "It was Ernst''s idea. He''s backed by the mayor and a few big shots. Wood and Carrell¡ªthat''s the other guy¡ªdon''t want to go against Ernst, so they agreed to the rules he set."


    "Third question: What were you planning to do tonight?" Julian''s hand lightly patted Johnny''s cheek, causing him to flinch. "I keep my promises, and look¡ªthere''s no one here but you. No one will know it was you who told."


    Moved by Julian''s reassurance, Johnny spilled everything.


    Wood had ordered them to track Graf, find out where his base of operations was, and assess how many people were there. Once they had that information, they planned to return in the middle of the night to kill off anyone unimportant and capture Graf, along with the person sleeping in the same room as the money. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Wood believed that whoever was with the money¡ªwhether it was Graf''s boss or someone else¡ªwould have valuable information. With nearly ten thousand dollars at stake, no one would entrust such a sum to Graf alone.


    Once they found the higher ups, everything would fall into place. Whether Wood dealt with them personally or hired someone else to, it wouldn''t be a big deal for the three bootlegging bosses.

 Chapter 60 - 60 Wood The Axeman

    After extracting all the information he needed, Julian pulled out the gun and shot Johnny, ending his life.


    As if explaining his decision, Julian muttered, "I didn''t allow you to answer out of turn."


    He casually tossed the gun to Dave, trusting that he would handle it better than Graf, who had just ruined his plans moments ago. Julian then took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the blood from his fingers, and pointed at the three corpses on the ground. "Strip them. Burn the clothes. Bury them with the two cops in the back lot."


    "Get some rest tonight, after that we will have a lot of work to do." With that, Julian shook the dust from his coat and returned to the house, shaking his head as he walked.


    Things escalated quickly and beyond anyone''s expectations the moment Graf drew the gun. The fate of Wood''s subordinates was a foregone conclusion after that. Neither Julian nor Wood had any room left to negotiate.


    Unlike disputes in business or politics, gang conflicts weren''t easily resolved. Business disagreements were just about dividing profits, and a compromise could be reached. Political conflicts were about power and influence, and a few concessions here or there could settle matters.


    But when it came to gangs and factions, the law of the jungle ruled.


    Every gang had its territory, just like a lion. Newcomers like Julian were akin to hyenas.


    Lions didn''t fear hyenas. When a lion roared, hyenas typically backed down, knowing they couldn''t win. But if a lion didn''t respond to provocation, other hyenas would gather, sensing weakness. They would pounce, knowing that the lion was either old or injured. They would tear the lion to pieces.


    It was the same in the underworld.


    Tonight, Wood had lost three men. If he didn''t respond, if he remained silent, others would come to test him, even if Julian did nothing. They''d see if Wood had truly gone soft. And once they confirmed that he had, the powerful elites of Ternell City would pounce, tearing Wood apart and swallowing his empire whole.


    There was no turning back now.


    Wood had to prove that he was still the king, capable of crushing anyone who dared to challenge him.


    And Julian had to face Wood head-on to ensure his survival. Otherwise, not only would Wood come after him, but others smelling blood would, too. They would sacrifice Julian to please the still dominant lion.


    There would be no peace until one side was dead.


    ...


    This was the first time Wood had allowed himself to fall into such a disheveled state after his success.


    He violently smashed a vase onto the ground. In his fury, all semblance of gentlemanly demeanor had vanished. His meticulously groomed hair now hung loosely, as though he had just weathered a storm. Hot breath escaped from his slightly parted lips as he panted, retreating a few steps before sitting down on a chair in the storeroom.


    One of the buttons on his elegant waistcoat had popped off, and the collar of his expensive shirt was torn open, revealing a patch of black chest hair. He looked like a wounded beast hiding in the corner.


    He had been threatened and wanted to fight back. But when he suggested to Ernst and Carrell that they should band together to crush those who refused to play by the rules, Ernst remained unexpectedly silent, and so did Carrell. After fighting alongside them for over a decade, how could Wood not guess what they were thinking?


    They were like everyone else outside, waiting for him to show signs of exhaustion, to reveal a moment of weakness, so they could tear him to pieces.


    The three of them had divided the city''s illegal liquor market, but why would two, or even one, be content to share when they could have it all? Wood had known for years that the so called "Three Kings" would inevitably clash one day. The only thing that had kept them at peace was not some lofty rule, but the absence of an opportunity to ignite the conflict.


    Now, that opportunity had arrived.


    If he failed to handle this properly and let everyone know that "Wood the Axeman" was still the same ruthless man who would chop people to pieces with an axe, those people would turn into savages and rip him apart.


    Thinking was easy, but acting was much harder. Just when Wood was determined to prove that he was far from being "over the hill," he suddenly realized he knew nothing about his opponents.


    He had no idea how many people they had.


    He only knew one of their key members, a brute named Graf.


    He didn''t know what their current plans were.


    In short, he knew almost nothing about his enemies. Worse yet, he had no idea where to start! S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His many years as a "gentleman" had nearly made him forget that he was once a thug, a "woodcutter" with blood on his hands. He had decorated his image with the trappings of high society, so much so that even he had nearly become a monk in a cathedral. Now, being thrust back into the cutthroat, life and death struggles of the past made him feel out of place, with a heart racing with unease.


    His trembling hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette case. He lit one, and as the smoke swirled around him, his once uncertain gaze became sharp. He threw the remaining cigarette butt to the ground and rolled up his sleeves, retrieving the lumber axe that had been hanging behind the storeroom door and gripping it in his hand.


    When he pushed open the door, many people were waiting outside. These were his subordinates, including family, friends, and the assistants who had stood by him through hell and back.


    His gaze was firm, just as it had been many years ago. After a whole night of contemplation, he had finally come to a conclusion: power in this world is everything. All the high society luxuries and superficial actions are nothing but extra decoration. He had once forsaken his true nature for the sake of pleasing others and seeking validation, but things had changed now.


    He had finally rediscovered his true self, he is ''Wood The Axeman''.

 Chapter 61 - 61 The War Cry

    Many of the older men were visibly excited, especially when they saw the lumber axe in Wood''s hand. Their blood seemed to boil in that moment. Whether seated or lying down, everyone stood up and gathered around him. They said nothing, simply surrounding Wood in silence, looking at him with eyes full of trust and admiration.


    In that moment, Wood felt something he had almost forgotten during his "gentlemanly life"¡ªa feeling of pure power!


    "Boss, what do we do now?" asked Jim, a short, stocky man wearing a brown waistcoat. His belly looked as if it were stuffed with a bag of flour, and a greasy sheen of sweat covered his bald head. Jim was once one of Wood''s most relied-upon subordinates and was known in the city of Ternell as "The Meat Grinder."


    Jim now ran a pet store, dealing primarily in pet food and fierce dogs.


    His pet shop was one of the places Wood''s crew had used for disposing of bodies. They would quietly kill their enemies and send the bodies to Jim''s shop. Jim would take the knives his father had given him, with the hope that he would become a skilled chef, and carve the bodies into tiny pieces.


    After adding a few ingredients and dehydrating them, he turned them into thumb-sized chunks of meat, which he mixed into other pet food and sold to the pets of Ternell City.


    His business had once thrived, but as Wood''s status rose, his pet store had fallen into near bankruptcy, with few customers.


    Wood''s gaze swept over each of the men''s faces, finally resting on Jim. "First, find out how many of them there are, who they are, their names, and what social connections they have. Find their hideouts, and then give them a big surprise."


    Jim''s wife was from the Guar people, and he could use her connections to investigate them more thoroughly and accurately.


    "Robin, go retrieve our things from the western suburbs. We need them now!"


    Robin, a tall, skinny man in his forties with a sallow complexion, grinned widely, showing his teeth. He raised his hand in a salute, one used by soldiers of the Star Empire. "Yes, boss. By tomorrow, you''ll see those beauties!"


    "Jiji, take two people with you tomorrow and withdraw 100,000 dollars for me¡ªin five-dollar denominations!" Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Jiji was a short, muscular man with sharp features and broad shoulders. He had once been an athlete before the war and other events led to the disbanding of the sports clubs in Ternell City. Left without a livelihood, he turned to underground fighting. Before being recruited by Wood, Jiji had already killed three men in the ring and was known as "Claw Jiji."


    He had been Wood''s bodyguard for a long time, sharing meals and even staying in the same house.


    As Wood assigned tasks, the once-feared figures of Ternell City felt a surge of untamed power coursing through them. Perhaps, thanks to this matter, their time would come again.


    Having arranged everything, Wood was brimming with confidence.


    He had money, enough to tempt many gangs to his side.


    He had connections, wide ranging, even to the point of being on brotherly terms with the police chief.


    How could he possibly lose?


    ...


    "He''s definitely going to lose!" At the same time, in a farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, Julian declared this in front of many people.


    Both Graf and Dave were surprised, though they had maintained their composure since last night. After all, their opponent was none other than the infamous "Wood the Axeman," a name these young men had grown up hearing about. There was an instinctive, subconscious fear of such a legendary figure.


    Julian knew this, and he needed to lift their spirits, to make them understand that they weren''t facing some terrifying beast, but simply another human being like them.


    "I''m not saying this for no reason," Julian said, standing confidently before the group, as if their opponent were just a petty thug. "First, he''s in the light, and we''re hiding in the shadows."


    The youths widened their eyes, staring at Julian. They needed something to convince them, and they also craved victory. They all knew that if they lost, some of them might die, and the rest would have to leave Ternell City, wandering aimlessly, possibly never returning.


    Never underestimate the memory of these ''previously gang bosses.''¡ªif they hate something, they will remember it for a lifetime."


    But if they won, they would change the entire situation in Ternell City. They would become "respectable people" in the eyes of others, and their words would carry weight within their families. They would also change their family''s circumstances, improve the living conditions, let their siblings wear new clothes, and even send them to school.


    Most importantly, they would change their own destinies.


    Win or lose, this was a battle where everything was at stake. So, they needed to hear something that would uplift them, make them go all out before the war broke out¡ªnot just sit somewhere, waiting for death.


    Looking at the eager eyes before him, Julian smiled easily. In a relaxed tone, he said, "Look, we all know his name is Wood, and we also know his nickname is ''Wood The Axeman.'' We also know the name of his previouse Gang ''The Woodsmen'', We know he lives at 93 Wheat Fragrance Gardens, and we know his office is on the third floor of 93 Coastal Avenue.


    We know he has many underlings, like Robin and Jiji, and we''ve found out almost all his details.


    "But," Julian''s tone shifted, becoming slightly more intense, "what does he know about us? He doesn''t know I''m called Julian, he doesn''t know that this beast like guy is called Graf, nor does he know that this pretty boy, who looks better than any girl, is called Dave.


    "So, how can he defeat us? Is he going to shoot into the air?"


    This remark made many of the youths laugh. "Shoot" could mean a bullet, or something else entirely¡ªit was an unhealthy double entendre, but it worked well with this group of thugs teenage boys.

 Chapter 62 - 62 Kidnapping

    Julian laughed along with them. "Secondly, he''s a famous big shot in high society. He has endless amounts of money, and countless people willing to help him, even risking their lives for him. Hearing all this, are you feeling a bit scared? But not all those people are truly his; those willing to risk their lives for him may not be so eager if they don''t get enough in return."


    "So what else does he have besides money?"


    "This society teaches us that if a man only has money but doesn''t have the strength to protect it himself, and can only rely on others'' strength, he will certainly lose, and he''ll lose miserably."


    "And here''s the third point!" S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian''s eyes gleamed as he looked at every young face. "He''s too wealthy, possessing everything people desire, while we have nothing! Precisely because we have nothing, what should we be afraid of? Even if we lose, we either lose our worthless lives, or we leave this place that has nothing for us."


    "But he''s different. He has too much, too many concerns. Each time he makes a choice, he has to think carefully about how it will affect the things he has.


    "I could walk right up to his villa at 93 Wheat Fragrance Gardens with a gun and pull the trigger, but would he dare do the same? No. He''d think it over, hesitate, and then pay someone to come find us. And even then, he''d have to watch out for others and for the people he hires¡ªwho might not even be willing to risk their lives!


    "We can afford to lose, once, twice, even more. We can afford to lose. But he cannot. If he loses just once, he will retreat into self preservation and lose everything.


    "So, as I stand here, I''m telling every one of you: we will win!"


    After the meeting, Dave pulled Julian aside, shielding him from the others as he whispered, "I heard that Wood has quite a few guns, at least several." His face showed a trace of worry. Guns held an overwhelming threat in gang wars, far beyond what numbers alone could resolve.


    If the other side had just three or five shooters willing to fire, they could easily crush the morale and fighting spirit Julian had built up today.


    Julian had actually considered this problem last night. He patted Dave on the shoulder, appreciating his sharp mind. It was rare, and extremely important, for someone to still be thinking in these critical moments. Julian glanced at the boys standing nearby and smiled, "I''ve thought it over already. We may not have guns, but we have bows!"


    In the Star Empire, except for some developed cities, the land was mostly rural. In such undisturbed natural environments, wildlife often became a serious problem. While some had proposed granting firearms to farmers and ranchers in the countryside, this idea was ultimately rejected. Instead, they distributed bows and arrows to replace guns.


    This was done to prevent conquered people from obtaining enough firearms and ammunition to potentially start an uprising. Some extreme organizations among the conquered had armed themselves, but no one had seen any uprisings or significant action.


    At the core, people only pursued two things: power and wealth.


    Of course, none of this had much to do with Julian at the moment. The widespread use of bows instead of guns meant that many farmers in rural areas had developed decent archery skills. Almost every household could shoot. In the cities, there were even archery clubs, although these were not open to ordinary farmers.


    To the elites, the farmers didn''t practice archery¡ªthey practiced hunting, an unsophisticated use of the bow.


    Only they, using expensive, elaborate bows and shooting costly arrows, could call it archery.


    In actual combat, bows were far more useful than handguns. A handgun''s range was only about twenty meters, while a bow''s effective range exceeded fifty meters, with skilled hunters able to shoot targets from as far as eighty meters.


    In direct combat, using bows would be far more effective than using handguns¡ªand even more surprising.


    Seeing that Julian had already considered the matter, Dave said no more. His strength lay in his bravery and ruthlessness, along with a certain level of intellect. But compared to Julian, he felt he was still a bit lacking. Plus, he was just a team leader, so he trusted that Julian could handle everything.


    The bar continued to supply alcohol, but more people were now assigned to escort the goods. For several days, nothing happened, which left some in Ternell City who were aware of the situation feeling puzzled.


    Shouldn''t a fight have broken out by now? Why was there still no movement from either side?


    What they didn''t know was that the two sides hadn''t even seen each other yet, so how could they talk about fighting?


    This tense, oppressive atmosphere was finally broken on the ninth day.


    Graf stormed into Julian''s office like a wounded bull. Julian, sitting calmly in his chair, looked at him without the slightest hint of emotion.


    Graf felt utterly uncomfortable. He instinctively waved his arms, paced back and forth a few steps, then punched the newly renovated wall of the office. The wooden panel shattered, costing him five dollars with that one punch. New wall panels, new wallpaper, and the labor to fix it¡ªall together, it would cost a fortune for just that one spot.


    "If you need to burn off some excess energy, I suggest you head up to the third floor. I''ve hung several punching bags there, made of cowhide. If you manage to break one, I might be impressed."


    After breaking the wall, Graf''s frustration eased a bit. He slumped into a chair, which creaked under his weight. His hands cradled his head as he looked completely helpless. "My mother and my brother have been taken."


    Julian knew that Graf had a mother, but it was the first time he learned he had a brother. A few years back, Graf had hidden in the wilderness to avoid being forcibly conscripted. He had mentioned this before, but he had never talked about having a brother. This left Julian feeling slightly displeased, though he hid it well. "Who took them, Wood?"

 Chapter 63 - 63 The Second Trial In The Morris Case

    "Who else but that bastard?" Graf roared. He had only learned about it from a neighbor when he went back to deliver some money. He felt like he was going crazy!


    They were his only family, especially his brother, who had been by his side for years. All the money Graf had made over the years, aside from what he kept for himself, he''d sent to his brother for school. He had never told anyone about his brother, because his brother was a "good kid," a top student who was currently studying at the capital''s university.


    Recently, Graf had sent him so much money that his brother went from surprised to scared, afraid that Graf had done something illegal. His brother had secretly taken leave and returned to Ternell.


    Unfortunately, Wood''s men had found him, and along with Graf''s mother, they had been taken.


    "Do you trust me?" Julian asked, maintaining his composure in his comfortable boss chair despite Graf''s emotional outburst. He played with a bronze lighter, his calm and confident expression meeting Graf''s gaze fearlessly. "Do you trust me?"


    He repeated the question. Graf, like a wounded beast, had reddened eyes, his chest heaving violently as intense emotions made it hard for him to breathe. He locked eyes with Julian, and after a moment, Graf nodded vigorously. "If I don''t trust you, then who the hell can I trust?"


    Julian nodded in return, leaning back into the enveloping chair. Despite the world''s technological backwardness compared to the one Julian had dreamed of, it excelled in indulgence and luxury, especially for those born into nobility. These elites had unparalleled power, status, and wealth, and beyond seeking more power, they wasted their excessive lives on extravagant pleasures and entertainment.


    Over the past few days, Julian had Dave gather information on Wood, and by now, they had learned almost everything. Wood''s move at this moment suggested that he had also dug into Julian and his group.


    In this world, there was no such thing as an impenetrable wall. Once they had targeted Graf as the breakthrough point, money would pave the way. Some people, like the workers at the station, would always be willing to reveal a little something for the right price.


    Not everyone could resist the lure of money over friendship, and there were always some who would sell information that wasn''t particularly useful to them or their families.


    Just as Julian used money to pave his way, though perhaps he had less of it than Wood, and couldn''t throw around large sums to get all the information he wanted, this wasn''t a one sided market. For those who possessed information about Wood, Julian was the only buyer in this market. He didn''t need to spend much to get what he wanted.


    Graf kept his eyes fixed on Julian, unblinking, waiting to see how he would resolve this problem.


    "I understand how you''re feeling right now. I love my family too, but love and impulse won''t solve anything. They kidnapped your family to put you¡ªand us¡ªin a vulnerable position. Whether we try to rescue them or compromise, we''d fall into their trap."


    "So, do we just abandon my mother and brother?" Graf asked through gritted teeth. His fierce gaze showed no attempt to hide his inner turmoil, and his tone made it clear that if Julian said they weren''t going to save them, Graf would leave in a fit of hatred.


    Julian chuckled. "Of course we''re going to save them, but there are many ways to do that. Charging in and getting yourself shot is one way. Killing enough of them to force them to send your family back is another."


    Julian wasn''t afraid that this muscle bound guy would recklessly charge in and get himself killed, but such a move would put him in a vulnerable position. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    To Julian, the situation was simple. Wood''s large, prosperous estate couldn''t withstand too much chaos. He made such a grand display, not only to intimidate Julian and his group but also to show others that Wood still had strength. But his vast holdings were also his greatest weakness. Once Julian found a way in, the bigger the estate, the harder it would fall.


    The next morning, Julian appeared in Courtroom Three at the city courthouse. This was the second trial in the "Morris Case." Julian hadn''t attended the first one, and Kevin hadn''t wanted him to, as the first trial mostly involved the prosecutor''s witnesses and evidence, and Kevin had chosen to appear weak.


    This was a strategy¡ªlet the opponent throw punches, dodge them, then strike back. When Camille presented his evidence and lobbied the jury, it was already clear that he had lost to Kevin because he wasn''t aware that Kevin had been involved in the case from the very beginning, even planning it.


    At exactly 9:15, Kevin appeared outside the courthouse, wearing a sharp suit and carrying his briefcase. Reporters immediately surrounded him, camera flashes going off and smoke rising from the constant flash bulbs.


    Kevin wore a confident smile. Unlike the previous trial, he didn''t rush into the courthouse. Instead, he stood outside under the grand scales of justice, facing the reporters.


    "Kevin, some people say that when you go up against the prosecutor for that girl Nasha, your ''golden reputation'' will be shattered. What do you think about that?"


    "I''m a reporter from Starlight Daily. The whole of Canlos is watching this case. While people are angry about what happened to the girl, they''re also focused on you. Do you believe you can win justice for her?"


    "Some say you took on this case against Camille because of a grudge from your younger days. Is that true?"


    Kevin smiled and nodded as the questions came. When he heard something he didn''t like, he raised his hand, and the noisy reporters immediately fell silent. He cleared his throat, and an unparalleled confidence appeared on his face, as bright as the sun. His tone was slightly elevated. "First, I want to thank the public for their concern about this case. Secondly, I''ve never believed I would lose."

 Chapter 64 - 64 The Testing Stage Is Over, The War Has Begun.

    The reporters murmured at this bold statement. Based on the evidence Camille had submitted, there were several unsolvable doubts in the Morris case. Many legal experts had expressed their opinions to the press, saying Kevin was likely to break his record of "no losses" with this case, adding a less than impressive mark to his career.


    Some anonymous sources had even suggested that Kevin took this case because of an old rivalry with Camille. Both men had attended the same high school and were even classmates. Initially, their relationship had been good, but after a falling out over a girl, they became bitter enemies. At one point, Camille had even hit Kevin.


    The enmity had persisted, and even though both had gone on to graduate from the prestigious Aurea University Law School, they returned to their hometown of Ternell City. It seemed impossible that nothing had happened between them. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    One reporter couldn''t resist asking, "Kevin, are you really that confident?"


    Kevin pointed to the reporter. "Good question. It''s not just my confidence that guarantees victory, but I firmly believe that reason, law, and justice always stand on the side of what is right. We will defeat evil!" With that, he nodded politely. "I''m sorry, but the trial is about to start. If you have more questions, save them for the day the verdict is announced."


    The reporters were satisfied, especially with Kevin''s final words. They echoed those of the Emperor himself when he encouraged soldiers during the most difficult days of the war.


    "We will defeat evil!"


    It was a clever statement, aligning with modern societal values. The case had garnered national attention, and people sympathized deeply with Nasha, hoping her lawyer would win the case.


    As the courthouse doors closed tightly, the crowd outside didn''t dwindle. In fact, it grew larger as time passed.


    Meanwhile, Jim struggled to squeeze out of his carriage, letting his massive belly drop down as he freed himself. Why were carriage doors so narrow? He''d once considered widening the doors but decided against it. If his carriage doors were wider than standard, wouldn''t that openly declare that a man too large to fit through a normal door was inside?


    Wiping sweat from his forehead, Jim, like many overweight people, sweated profusely with the slightest movement. He licked his lips as he headed toward a nearby barbecue restaurant.


    This place was called "Daily Delight BBQ," and it was well known in Ternell City. Its specialty was beef ribs with meat still attached, and not the cut kind. Each rib was half a meter long, with at least two pounds of meat on it, marinated in a secret sauce and grilled to crispy perfection. The thought of it made mouths water.


    It was Jim''s favorite food. He came here almost every three days, eating two ribs each time and washing them down with some fruit wine.


    "When eating such greasy food, that tart fruit wine really proves its worth!" Jim said to his subordinate as he sat on a double bench at an outdoor table. "The sour and tart flavor keeps my stomach from feeling too greasy. Oh heavens, I''m drooling already!"


    "Look, my food is here!" Jim''s mouth watered as he watched a waiter approach with two half meter long ribs hanging from hooks, their golden brown surface dripping with hot beef fat. "I can''t wait any longer. Damn it, can''t you walk faster?"


    The waiter, who looked no older than 17 or 18, still had a childish look about him, with a faint line of black fuzz on his upper lip. He carefully carried the two ribs over, with one hand still supporting them. When he placed the beef ribs onto Jim''s plate, they were positioned straight in front of him, which made Jim quite unhappy, as he couldn''t see more of the meat.


    So, he raised his short, thick hand and waved. "Are you new here? Turn them around, and lay them across in front of me!"


    The young waiter, his face showing shy embarrassment, immediately moved from in front of Jim to his side. The bodyguard standing nearby stepped aside, knowing that the best thing he could do at this moment was to let Jim enjoy his meal undisturbed.


    Everyone has their own temper, and Jim was usually very easy to talk to. There was no trace of the ferocity that had earned him the cruel nickname "Meat Chopper." You could even joke with him a bit harshly, and even if he was the one being made fun of, he would laugh and throw out a few curses without ever getting angry.


    But the one thing you couldn''t do was disturb him while he was eating.


    Wood once said that Jim was like a dog guarding its food¡ªif you disturbed him during a meal, he would show his fangs. Even Wood wouldn''t bother Jim too much while he was eating, as he knew it would ruin Jim''s appetite.


    The bodyguard stepped aside, and the young waiter walked to Jim''s side, laying the ribs across in front of him. Jim''s smile bloomed like a summer flower, and he even laughed out loud. He didn''t bother with utensils or trying to eat in a "civilized" manner.


    He wasn''t a refined person when it came to food, so he grabbed the ribs by the bones, which had slightly shrunk due to the heat, and took a huge bite.


    His teeth crunched into the crispy surface of the beef. The meat was seasoned with chopped fruit peppers and spices, and the flavors of butter and beef exploded on his taste buds. He tilted his head back in satisfaction, savoring every change in taste. It was absolutely delicious!


    At that moment, a young man who had been standing unnoticed behind Jim''s bodyguard suddenly whipped off his scarf, jumped up, and wrapped it around the bodyguard''s neck, tightening it while pressing his knee into the man''s back. As the bodyguard struggled, the young waiter took his chance.


    He swiftly plunged the hook used for the ribs into Jim''s chin, with the smaller hook catching onto the back of the chair.

 Chapter 65 - 65 Relentless Assassinations

    Jim immediately started struggling, but the steel hook, strong enough to hold up hundreds of pounds of meat, had pierced through his jaw, with the other end fastened to the chair. He couldn''t even open his mouth, let alone speak. His tongue was also pierced, leaving him unable to do anything but let out muffled whimpers and thrash his arms wildly.


    It was at this moment that Jim realized the importance of losing weight.


    The young waiter turned around, now standing behind Jim. Ignoring Jim''s furious, wide eyed glare, he grabbed the unused knife from the table and stabbed it into Jim''s neck. Blood gushed out instantly, steaming as it splattered onto the plate, mixing with the flavors of the barbecued ribs.


    He stabbed Jim several times, the last one piercing his chest. After the vital blows, Jim''s struggles surged momentarily before finally weakening. The attacker pulled out the knife, turned, and stabbed Jim''s bodyguard in the chest twice. Then he and the other boy quickly fled. Only then did the nearby patrons, frozen in shock, begin to scream.


    The entire attack, from start to finish, had taken no more than ten seconds¡ªso fast that many people didn''t even realize what had happened before the two assailants had already run away.


    The owner, who had been in the back showing his son how to grill ribs, rushed out in an apron. When he saw Jim''s lifeless hands hanging at his sides, his vision darkened, and his legs gave out beneath him.


    It was over. Jim was dead, and Wood would certainly seek revenge!


    The owner had lived through those times and knew that these people weren''t nearly as glamorous as they seemed. Thinking about the consequences he might face, he felt as though his soul had left his body.


    On another street, a group of people were gathered. These were the spies Wood had hired to collect information on Julian. However, all they had managed to gather so far was Julian''s name, appearance, and age. Even though this information had been repeated over and over, Wood didn''t mind. He had Jiji distribute the payment as promised.


    Since Wood had begun his efforts to become a gentleman and enter high society, he had lost many things. Now, he regretted it, so he needed to spend even more money to buy back what he had given up.


    After this incident, he no longer wanted to be a gentleman. Perhaps he was better suited to being a thug, a villain, rather than a beast in gentleman''s clothing.


    "Mine¡­" A skinny man reached out to take his share of the money from Jiji, but Jiji pulled his hand back, causing the man to yelp in surprise.


    These street wanderers were cheap¡ªfive dollars was all it took to buy information from them. Wood had raised the price, offering ten dollars for each piece of information, even if it was junk, which had driven the homeless and street drifters into a frenzy. Seeing the stack of at least fifty dollars in Jiji''s hand, the skinny man''s facial muscles twitched, and a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes.


    But Jiji wasn''t afraid of these people. Even if they ganged up on him, none of them would dare touch him. Everyone knew Jiji was Wood''s bodyguard, and challenging Jiji meant challenging Wood.


    Ignoring the man''s threatening glare, Jiji said, "If you want money, fine, but if you give me garbage information like this again, don''t expect to get a cent next time. Got it?" S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The skinny man hesitated for a moment before the fierceness left his face, replaced with a flattering grin. "Got it, got it. Next time, I''ll give you real information, or I won''t take any money!"


    Satisfied, Jiji handed him the money. The man quickly snatched it and walked out of the crowd, counting it twice before shoving it into his pocket with a grin.


    As the crowd dispersed, the people were now even more motivated to gather information for money. Just as Jiji was about to leave, a young man in a trench coat and peaked cap approached. Jiji took a second look because the young man was very handsome, with a bright, sunny demeanor.


    No matter the era or cultural background, face culture had always been mainstream¡ªwhether overt or covert, it never changed.


    The handsome young man approached with a smile so warm that it made people feel at ease. Jiji had been about to leave but stopped because of the young man''s smile.


    The young man came up to him, smiling and nodding. "Are you Mr. Jiji?"


    Jiji, normally a man of few words, surprisingly responded. "Yes, I''m Jiji. What do you want?"


    The young man nodded vigorously. "Mr. Julian asked me to say hello to you!"


    In the next second, the sight of the pistol emerging from the young man''s pocket reflected in Jiji''s terrified eyes. He tried to turn and flee, but no matter how fast he moved, he couldn''t outrun a bullet.


    A violent burst of air, tinged with mist, erupted from the pistol''s barrel. Jiji could even see the bullet spinning through the air.


    With a sickening thud, a cloud of blood exploded next to Jiji''s head, and his short, stocky body collapsed. The young man calmly approached and fired several more shots into Jiji''s head until it was completely shattered. Then he pocketed the gun and swiftly left.


    Jiji''s lifeless body twitched on the ground. The homeless and street drifters who had retreated earlier rushed back, crawling over his body to search his pockets for money.


    As for what had just happened or what would happen next?


    Who cared?!


    A series of relentless assassinations instantly pushed Wood into an extremely passive situation. Julian struck him so hard that he saw stars. If it weren''t for Robin suddenly remembering that he had left his key at home and getting off that damn carriage, he might have already been reduced to a pile of ash!


    From the moment Wood decided to have Graf''s mother and brother captured, he had considered Julian''s retaliation, but he never imagined that a young man he had never heard of, along with a group of youths, could act so ruthlessly and decisively! In just one day, apart from Jim and Jiji, three more captains fell to assassinations. The spread of rumors was far faster than anyone could have anticipated.


    In less than an hour, certain people in the entire city of Ternell already knew that Wood was in a very dire situation!

 Chapter 66 - 66 Second Trial

    Even more troubling was another incident: Jim''s wife was skinned and hung outside the open balcony on the third floor of Jim''s house. According to Guar tradition, the harshest punishment for a traitor is skinning the person alive and crucifying them.


    Everyone who knew the inside story was shocked by the ruthlessness of that young man. At the same time, a strange emotion began to spread, as if this Guar youth was different from the others.


    Julian''s name began to spread wildly within the Guar community and even started to reach the outskirts of Ternell City. Some even began to say that he was the inheritor of the will of the Guar Kingdom, seeing him as the future hope of the Guar people!


    A series of brutal tactics finally jolted Wood awake from his perfect plan. Especially when he personally saw an unsigned envelope placed on his office desk, he was so frightened that he broke out in cold sweat, his body trembling uncontrollably.


    "Damn it, investigate! Investigate every single one of them! Who the hell brought this damn envelope in here and placed it on my desk?" Wood, raging with anger, tried to mask the fear in his heart. The fact that Julian''s people were able to put this envelope, containing a bullet, on his desk today¡ªdid it mean that tomorrow morning, instead of his wife''s good morning kiss, a bullet might greet him?


    All the Guars in Wood''s home and company were dismissed. Even suspected Guars were illegally detained and beaten, but the truth did not come to light. Wood knew that if he couldn''t strike back as hard as he was struck and do it fast, he would likely become a laughingstock¡ªor worse, a stepping stone.


    Meanwhile, Julian showed no trace of satisfaction or joy. He sat calmly in Courtroom No. 3, observing the "duel" between Kevin and Camille. From the beginning, Kevin had laid a trap, needing Camille to believe that this was a premeditated murder, and that the "victim" Nasha was one of the masterminds.


    For this reason, he left enough doubts for Camille to uncover, expose, and seek explanations for, leading him step by step into the trap.


    During the trial, Kevin presented a new viewpoint that no one had previously considered: that the killer might not have known Nasha at all. In Camille''s perspective, the case involved two sides: one was Morris, and the other was Nasha and an unknown figure. This was the only way to explain the suspicious details and evidence at the scene.


    However, after Kevin introduced the "three-party theory" and corroborated Camille''s guesses on some key evidence, he constructed a more plausible scenario that fit the facts at the scene. He not only convinced the spectators but also the jury.


    In the end, he provided enough evidence¡ªa blood stained adult male''s clothing and two testimonies from hotel staff. Even the judge believed that Kevin''s argument was plausible.


    "My view is that from start to finish, my client, Miss Nasha, was the first victim. First, we must acknowledge that Miss Nasha is a believer who would not have violated her religious principles by engaging in premarital sexual activity."


    Kevin handed out his prepared materials to the jury, the judge, and Camille.


    "After the incident, the coroner performed an autopsy on Mr. Morris. According to the findings, it''s clear that Mr. Morris had not engaged in any form of sexual activity before his death. Based on this, my argument is that after Mr. Morris brought the unconscious Miss Nasha into the room, someone entered while he was taking a shower, taking advantage of the sound of water to mask their movements."


    "When Mr. Morris came out of the bathroom and prepared to get dressed and leave¡­ if you believe that." As Kevin said this, the somber courtroom erupted in laughter, and even the judge''s lips twitched slightly.


    Ternell was not a bustling metropolis; it didn''t have an endless population of permanent residents. It was a small city, so small that if something happened on one side, people on the other side would soon hear about it. "Leather Pants" Morris was no unknown figure. Most people knew of his misdeeds, so Kevin''s small joke made many people smile knowingly.


    Ha! Morris would let a girl he''d stripped lie on the bed, take a shower, and then leave?


    Come on, that''s impossible.


    Camille stood up with a dark expression. "Your Honor, I object! The defense counsel''s mockery of the main victim, Mr. Morris, is defamatory!" S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The judge tightened his expression and knocked the gavel. He looked toward Kevin, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Objection sustained. Please show respect to the deceased, defense counsel."


    Kevin offered an apologetic look. "Alright, I apologize for my previous comment."


    "The third party who entered the room indeed encountered Mr. Morris as he was about to leave. During their altercation, Mr. Morris was killed. To cover up the truth, this mysterious person forced himself on the unconscious Miss Nasha and fabricated the scene, making it appear as though Miss Nasha, during her resistance, accidentally killed Mr. Morris while being assaulted.


    "According to testimony from the hotel doorman, a young man was seen leaving in a hurry during the time of the incident. The same young man bumped into a hotel staff member as he left. This supports the notion that an unknown third party was present at the scene. This person not only brutally murdered Mr. Morris but also assaulted the unconscious Miss Nasha.


    "And this third party is the true culprit in this case!"


    Camille couldn''t help but stand again. "Your Honor, I object! The defense counsel''s narrative of the crime is purely speculative. Without sufficient evidence, his argument is mere conjecture and should not guide the outcome of this case!"


    The judge thought for a moment, then shook his head. "The defense counsel''s argument aligns with the conditions at the crime scene, and he has provided critical evidence and testimony. Objection overruled."

 Chapter 67 - 67 A Game Of Sympathy And Scorn

    Camille glared at Kevin, as if he wanted to tear him to pieces. Previously, he had boasted in the media that Nasha was one of the masterminds behind the case and vowed to pin the blame on her. But Kevin had suddenly turned everything around, and now the case was heading in the exact opposite direction from what Camille had hoped.


    The worst part was that the bold claims he had made had already been published and attracted attention.


    Even though the outcome of this case wouldn''t harm him directly, those powerful figures who could decide his future might not appreciate a young man who acted so recklessly.


    Thankfully, this was only the second of three trials¡ªthere was still one more. He still had a chance!


    After the second trial ended, Kevin smiled and extended his hand to Camille. He felt confident, holding onto key evidence and witnesses. Regardless of whether Camille could find new evidence and witnesses to support his "mutual murder case" argument, he would not be Kevin''s match. After all, no evidence or witness could ever carry more authority than the killer himself.


    Since victory was certain, why not display the cultured demeanor of an educated man?


    Only the victor deserves a victor''s smile!


    Faced with Kevin''s provocative gesture, Camille''s face tightened, and his eyes flashed with anger. After a moment, he turned away and resumed his work, packing up the materials on the table. Finally, he gathered them up with force, slamming them onto the table with a loud bang.


    Many of the spectators and jury members who had already left halfway turned around, curious. In their eyes, they saw Kevin, courteous and polite, even extending a friendly hand to his "opponent." Meanwhile, Camille, the district attorney, appeared rude, ignoring Kevin''s goodwill and instead creating a loud noise to express his dissatisfaction and hostility.


    People often like to side with the underdog challenging the powerful. Kevin, representing the poor girl, Natasha, undoubtedly gained their sympathy. It was as if they had forgotten that they once called Kevin the "Devil''s Advocate." Now, they were more inclined to support Kevin against the rude district attorney.


    This scene did not escape the judge''s notice either. The judge smiled, shook his head, and left through a side passage. Based on his rich experience, he could already predict that during the final trial, Camille would lose, and lose badly.


    This was not some mystical foresight but a judgment based on experience. The more confident someone was, the more polite they appeared, because they were certain of their victory. On the other hand, those who became flustered always ended up losing. Psychologically, Camille had already lost.


    The judge had high hopes for Camille. He was young, energetic, and had an insatiable desire to uncover the truth. More importantly, he was a man of justice. However, the moment Camille was chosen as a candidate for the position of state prosecutor, he lost his balance.


    He wanted to make a big splash and establish his dominance, but he had tripped up unexpectedly.


    Kevin glanced at his right hand, shrugged, and then turned and walked briskly toward the door. Julian, who had been sitting silently, now stood up and followed Kevin outside.


    "I must congratulate you. It looks like you''ve got this in the bag."


    Kevin was pleased with Julian''s compliment. This case would not only allow him to leave Camille far behind, but the ultimate victory would also add a bright feather to his cap. After all, not everyone could defeat a prosecutor when starting from a disadvantaged position¡ªof course, cheating didn''t count.


    He had paved the way for his future in the capital and earned a thousand dollar fee. There was nothing about this case that didn''t satisfy him. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Kevin''s joy was written all over his face. "There''s nothing really to be proud of, although I do feel proud..." He stopped, raised his arm, and adjusted his sleeve just enough to reveal his wristwatch. "I have a dinner later. Why don''t you join me? I''ll introduce you to two people."


    As a seasoned lawyer, Kevin often mingled with all sorts of people, from vagrants to city magnates. Any of them could provide valuable information or become potential clients. Among his most frequent contacts were police officers and their chiefs.


    In Ternell, you could offend anyone, but never the police chief.


    According to imperial law, police had the right to briefly detain individuals they deemed suspicious. If they found even a shred of evidence, they could apply for arrest and search warrants. Over the past decade, at least three magnates in Ternell had been ruined after offending the police chief.


    However, this didn''t mean the chief was a tyrant; he was smart enough to know that not every magnate was an easy target.


    Kevin''s invitation was timely. With things heating up outside, Julian naturally needed a powerful backer to shield him, and the police chief was one of the strongest supporters available.


    The two of them got into Kevin''s car. It was notable that despite Julian''s rising fame in Ternell, he still didn''t own a car¡ªquite humble, indeed.


    Lunch was at Ternell''s finest restaurant, Jasmine''s Iridescent Onyx River. Jasmine was the name of the restaurant''s owner, a stunning woman in her thirties. Rumor had it she was the mayor''s lover, with some colorful versions of the story fueling the imaginations of workers. No one dared to discuss it openly though, whether true or not, as it meant crossing powerful people.


    The restaurant''s real name, "Iridescent Onyx River." Located at the corner of Twelfth and Eleventh streets in the city center, across from Ternell''s City Hall, the restaurant was quite prestigious. Unlike other restaurants, there was no public dining area here. From the moment they entered, staff guided Kevin and Julian into Private Room 9.


    Some said this restaurant was a hotbed of shady dealings, while others claimed it was a breeding ground for corruption. In any case, those who dined here were either chasing wealth through power or possessed vast fortunes and sought more influence.


    Upon entering Private Room 9, the opulent decor made one feel as though they had stepped into a palace. The dominant colors were crimson, gold, and iridescent white, with every detail reflecting the designer''s meticulous efforts.

 Chapter 68 - 68 The Unwritten Rule Of The Game

    In the room sat two middle aged men. One was slightly chubby, balding, and had fair skin. The other had darker skin, somewhat resembling a person from the southern provinces, with a sharp look and a small mustache on his upper lip.


    Kevin entered, closing the door behind him, and hung his jacket on the rack. "This is my very good friend, Julian," he said, first introducing Julian. The two men adjusted their expressions slightly. Kevin then introduced them to Julian. "This big guy here is Mr. Gawain, a brave veteran of the Empire, now serving as the Fire Chief."


    "And this is Mr. Prando, the guardian of our city and the bane of criminals¡ªthe police chief!"


    Julian humbly walked over, bowed slightly, and lightly shook hands with both men. After a few polite exchanges, he returned to Kevin''s side. Kevin was a man of his word. He was an honest lawyer, and if he said he would introduce Julian to important figures, he would follow through. Whether Julian could befriend them, however, was up to him.


    The slightly tense atmosphere in the private room lasted less than a minute before Julian spoke up. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Kevin looked at him with interest, while the two bigwigs regarded Julian with a mixture of arrogance and curiosity. They already knew that since Kevin hadn''t mentioned any specific title or background for Julian, he was likely a nobody.


    "Mr. Prando, funny enough, I was planning to visit the police station. A few days ago, while handling some business at the Imperial Central Bank, I found a key but couldn''t locate the owner. I was going to hand it in at the police station, but now that I have the pleasure of meeting you here, I thought I''d ask for your help in finding its owner."


    He produced the key, intricately designed with a complex pattern on the head.


    Anyone with a bit of knowledge would immediately recognize it¡ªthe key to a private safety deposit box at the Imperial Central Bank.


    The next second, the haughty look on Prando''s face vanished, replaced by a warm, friendly smile. He pointed at Julian and said with a chuckle, "You''re quite an upstanding young man. In such a chaotic society, maintaining basic morals is commendable." He carefully pocketed the key to the Central Bank''s personal vault.


    Gawain, expressionless, silently observed the subtle exchange of bribery, his gaze still fixed on Julian.


    Many people think the fire department is not a power department but a service department. After all, when there''s a fire or someone is in trouble, the first thought is to call the fire department and those helmeted firefighters in heavy gear. But in reality, the fire department holds significant power. Many gangs not only need to pay a tribute to the police department but also to the fire department.


    According to imperial law, all facilities have a maximum occupancy limit, and they must be equipped with fire safety equipment. In Ternell, the most profitable businesses are often tied to bars, which are also a significant source of cash. The daily sales of cider and moonshine provide gangs with far more profit than any other avenue.


    So, to keep their bars running, they must maintain good relations with the fire department.


    If someone offends the fire department, having their bar shut down for rectifications is just the beginning. Once, a gang behind a thriving bar had a dispute with the fire department over the amount of tribute, leading to the bar''s closure. The fire department claimed the bar had fire hazards and poor design, limiting the occupancy of a nearly 500-square-meter bar to just ten people!


    Failure to comply not only meant closure but also hefty fines.


    In the end, the bar was shut down, and the gang behind it had to spend a fortune finding an intermediary to admit their mistake to the fire department and promise to pay tribute according to the rules. Only then did they reopen the bar under a new name.


    If the police department is the sharp blade hanging over the gangs, the fire department is the hidden gun. Offending either side without sufficient power would make survival in Ternell impossible.


    Julian, having given a key to the police chief, certainly wouldn''t forget the fire department. With a sincere smile, he spoke clearly, "I recently started a company on Queen''s Boulevard, and it''s currently under renovation. I hope Mr. Gawain can take some time to guide us on fire safety installations and renovation issues."


    Gawain maintained his stern expression but visibly relaxed, his gaze softening. He nodded, signaling his body had loosened up. "Serving every taxpayer is the duty of our fire department. Leave the address, and I''ll personally supervise the site."


    Before the meal even began, both Prando and Gawain had secured some extra income, leaving them quite satisfied. Prando even smiled at Kevin and said, "Your friend is quite interesting!"


    Your friend!


    Not my friend!


    Nor did he specifically mention Julian''s name!


    It wasn''t that Prando had forgotten Julian''s name or that he didn''t want to be friends with him. It was just that they weren''t sure yet if Julian was truly sincere in his desire to become friends. They were aware that many wanted to befriend them, but few showed sufficient sincerity.


    Kevin remained silent, merely casting a surprised look at Julian, who stayed calm.


    Bribery had become an unwritten rule of the game. Even the mayor had some questionable funds tucked away in anonymous bank accounts. Governors, state legislators, and council members were no exceptions; none could escape this vortex. Some willingly embraced corruption, while others had to learn to play along.


    Standing out as an opposition to this trend would achieve nothing but getting crushed by the wheels of the system or drowned by its tides.


    While everyone was lining their pockets, there were still ways to do it properly. For low level officers, like patrolling police, no special approach was needed¡ªjust hand them twenty dollars on the spot, and that would be more satisfying than any other method. But for higher level officials like Prando and Gawain, blatantly offering cash would only offend them and yield no help or favor.

 Chapter 69 - 69 Bribe

    Kevin never taught Julian how to bribe, yet Julian managed to play a game Kevin had never seen before. It was public, yet so well played that Kevin was impressed.


    Without a doubt, the Imperial Central Bank''s private safety deposit box likely held a large sum of cash. Once Prando unlocked that box, the money would be his. As for taking bribes?


    Don''t be ridiculous. He simply found a key and failed to suppress his curiosity and greed. That wasn''t a crime, merely a moral shortcoming. Superiors wouldn''t dismiss someone over a moral lapse, especially if it could be "handled" with some dialogue. Through this subtle bribe, Julian had already won over the two influential men at their very first meeting, an impressive feat.


    Had Julian been 25 or 30 years old, Kevin would have thought nothing of it. Surviving that long without being deceived often meant enough life experience. But Julian was only sixteen¡ªwhere did he gain such wisdom?


    Some things were truly terrifying to think about.


    The meal was pleasant for all parties. Julian left first, sensing that Kevin, Gawain, and Prando avoided discussing anything sensitive because of his presence. Realizing this, he excused himself, leaving them the privacy they needed. His courteous departure left a favorable impression on the trio, such considerate young men were rare.


    Once the door closed, Prando chuckled, patting his pocket. "That kid''s quite something. I just wonder if his sincerity is as strong as it seems."


    Kevin, picking his teeth, raised an eyebrow and mumbled, "Don''t worry, it won''t be less than a solid figure."


    A "solid figure" was code for ten thousand dollars, an exorbitant sum for a small place like Ternell.


    Both Prando and Gawain were taken aback. According to their usual arrangements, the monthly tribute from gangs, disguised as charitable donations from community minded merchants, was only three to five thousand dollars. This money was split from the top down, with every officer and even the doorman receiving a share.


    Ternell''s police force consisted of five stations and a total of 270 officers, overseeing a city of nearly 400,000. Depending on their rank, each officer received between three and fifty dollars monthly from these tributes, while Prando took five hundred dollars for himself. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The situation at the fire department was similar. Though their contributions from the "charitable donations" were smaller, Gawain''s share was notably less than Prando''s¡ªhe received only three hundred dollars.


    So when Kevin mentioned a "solid figure," the young man''s generosity astounded them!


    Money was good, but sometimes too much money could be unsettling.


    "There won''t be any problems, right?" Prando wiped his face with a wet napkin, trying to calm down. "I may be the police chief, but I''m not omnipotent. Some things even I can''t handle. If we take the money but do nothing, that could spell trouble."


    Little did Prando know, problems were already brewing before he even got his hands on the money.


    ...


    "Boss, someone reported witnessing a murder on the street. What should we do now?"


    Pronto had just returned to the police station, and one foot was still outside the door when a young officer approached him. The officer pointed to an elderly woman sitting on a nearby bench. Pronto rolled his eyes, let out a burp laced with the scent of alcohol, and muttered, "What should we do? Of course, we open a case and investigate, find the murderer.


    Do you need me to hold your hand and walk you through it so you know what to do?"


    Just as Pronto was about to walk inside to his office, intending to rest for a while in the backroom, the young officer stepped in front of him again, blocking his path. In less than a second, Pronto''s expression shifted from annoyance to a flicker of anger. His eyes gleamed with irritation, and his tone was sharp, "For God''s sake, what now? Did someone''s cow go missing, or is there a clogged sewer?"


    The young officer awkwardly smiled and whispered, "The deceased is one of Wood''s close associates, Mr. Jim."


    The buzz of alcohol instantly left Pronto''s body. He shuddered slightly, grabbed the young officer by the collar, and pulled him close, their faces almost touching. "Did you say Wood? And you mentioned a public murder? There must be more than one witness. Get the facts straight, and follow me."


    As he was about to enter the office, Pronto knocked on the desk next to the door, and a woman in her thirties, with a pleasant face, looked up at him. "Get Shaun over here, now!" he barked, before storming into his office, the young officer trailing behind.


    Sitting in his comfortable boss''s chair, Pronto tugged at his collar and pointed to the bar in the corner. "Get me some damn ice water. God, did they only teach you how to stand at attention at the academy?"


    The young officer lowered his head, walked to the bar, and prepared a glass of iced water for Pronto. It was said that the capital had already started selling household mini-freezers, but that was still a distant dream for Ternell. All the ice in the city came from the Ternell Ice Factory, divided into three categories: ice made from boiled water, tap water, and well water.


    The materials used dictated the price, and naturally, Pronto used only the best.


    He took the glass of chilled water, gulped it down, and felt an instant sense of relief wash over him. Being overweight had its downsides¡ªhe needed ice water to cool down even in autumn. He placed the glass on the coaster on his desk and looked at the young officer, motioning for him to speak. "Don''t you think you should say something now?"


    The officer jolted and immediately started talking. "Aside from the elderly woman outside who needs to rest due to shock, over twenty people have come forward, all claiming they witnessed the murder. The only identified deceased so far is Jim. He was stabbed multiple times and died on the spot."

 Chapter 70 - 70 Shaun

    "In addition to that, there''s another murder victim, but their face was completely disfigured. We haven''t been able to identify them yet. According to witnesses, the victim was seen hanging around with a group of vagrants, possibly gang-affiliated..."


    It took a moment before Pronto finally looked up at the officer. "What did you just say?" The officer stiffened, about to respond, but Pronto waved him off. "Never mind, I get it. You''ve done well. Keep investigating this, now!"


    After the young officer left, Pronto sighed. He hadn''t paid attention to what the officer said after learning that Jim was dead. His mind immediately went to the gang wars. Recently, he had heard that someone had violated the rules of the three major bootlegging factions in Ternell, secretly selling high proof illegal alcohol to bars without their consent.


    Since the day he heard about it, he''d had a feeling that if that fool kept breaking the rules, the three factions would join forces to crush him. Sure enough, within days, Wood had already lost three people sent to gather information. It had to be the hot headed youngsters who had done it. Back then, Pronto still thought there was a chance to de-escalate the situation.


    If those involved were willing to pay up, apologize, and follow the rules, maybe things wouldn''t escalate further.


    And now? Jim was dead!


    Did this mean the two groups were about to go to war?


    As the police chief of Ternell, Pronto hated¡ªand feared¡ªgang wars the most. Small time gang wars were easier to deal with due to the limited numbers and scope, but when the big players went to war, it was a disaster. They would mobilize more people, fight on a larger scale, brazenly engaging in mutual vendettas and even large scale slaughter!


    This wasn''t unheard of in Ternell. Every time a major gang war broke out, it meant big trouble for Pronto¡ªfrom the public, from his superiors, and from taxpayers.


    If things got too out of hand, the Imperial Bureau of Criminal Investigation would definitely step in, and if things went wrong, he could find himself reassigned to some godforsaken place to guard fish ponds.


    This was indeed a big problem!


    At that moment, the door swung open, and a guy strolled in, casual as ever, not even wearing his uniform¡ªShaun. He wasn''t a police officer; he belonged to the Imperial Bureau of Criminal Investigation, officially known as the Imperial Security and Defense Investigation Bureau.


    While the local police handled regional security, the Bureau managed the security of the entire empire, including major criminal cases. They had more authority than the local police, with agents stationed in every city.


    Shaun was Ternell''s agent.


    Rumor had it that Shaun had messed up somewhere and was sent to Ternell as a form of punishment. He was young and had a bit of a devil-may-care attitude. Since arriving in Ternell, he hadn''t caused Pronto much trouble. In Pronto''s eyes, Shaun resembled a gang member more than an investigator. He spent most of his time hanging around with shady individuals or frequenting various bars.


    Shaun had only been in Ternell for less than two years, but when it came to understanding the local gangs, he knew more than Pronto himself.


    "What''s up?" Shaun rubbed his eyes. He''d spent the night partying with a woman, and if Pronto''s secretary hadn''t called him, he''d probably still be asleep. By the way, Shaun''s office was on the second floor of the police station, in the southernmost corner.


    He grabbed a glass from the bar, dropped in a few ice cubes, and pulled a bottle of thirty-five-dollar liquor from the shelf, pouring himself a drink.


    Watching him move around as if it were his own home, Pronto''s eyes widened. "Didn''t you hear? Jim is dead!"


    Shaun took a sip, nodded in satisfaction, and asked, "Where''d you get this? It''s pretty good."


    Pronto slammed his hand on the desk, his temper flaring. "Are you deaf or something?"


    Shaun paused, then said, "Are you speaking in a non-human language?" He chuckled, taking advantage of Pronto''s temporary silence to walk over and press him back into his chair. "I heard you, I heard you. Jim, right? He''s dead. So what? Everyone dies, even God messenger is dead, Only God is eternal."


    Pronto, who had been fuming, suddenly felt there was no point in getting angry. No wonder Shaun had been sent to Ternell¡ªhis attitude made him more suited for the countryside!


    It might have been the alcohol, or maybe it was because Pronto had yelled at him, but Shaun was gradually sobering up. He shook the glass that now only had ice left in it and casually placed it on Pronto''s desk. Pronto immediately removed the condensation-covered glass from his beloved desk and wiped the faint water stain with a handkerchief.


    When it came to Shaun, Pronto felt utterly helpless. At first, he had been somewhat in awe of him¡ªafter all, Shaun was from the Imperial Bureau of Criminal Investigation, a figure not to be trifled with, especially for someone like Pronto, who had spent his whole life in the small city of Ternell. But it didn''t take long for that initial awe to fade into indifference.


    Sometimes, Pronto even questioned how Shaun had become an agent; he didn''t have the demeanor or the awareness of one.


    Shaun behaved like a street thug, always hanging out with lowlifes and never showing interest in the cases occurring in the city. Even the telegrams from the capital were often tossed directly into the trash by him. It was as if he had given up completely and was now indulging himself. He didn''t even bother with the systematic corruption within the police department, where everyone received bribes. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In fact, he had even asked Pronto to cut him in.


    His reasoning was simple: as a member of the Ternell Police Department, he was entitled to the extra "subsidies" that came with the job, and he demanded fifty a month.

 Chapter 71 - 71 The New Player In The Town

    How could Pronto feel any respect for such a person, despite his unusual authority?


    Annoyance was more like it!


    Standing by the window, Shaun snapped his fingers and turned to sit on the windowsill. "I remember now¡ªJim, Wood, right?" Pronto weakly nodded, and Shaun''s face lit up with a grin. "I knew I''d heard that name before. What''s up? He''s dead? Who did it?"


    Pronto shot Shaun a tired look. Shaun must have realized something because he awkwardly chuckled, patting Pronto''s shoulder without a hint of shame. "Oh right, you''re asking me."


    In truth, Pronto didn''t know much about this case. He avoided close ties with the gangs and didn''t like being seen interacting with them. If word got out, it could cost him his job. Gangs also avoided associating with him. For gang members, even if they lost an arm to an enemy, they''d rather hold out for revenge than call the police. They would never seek justice through law enforcement.


    Any disputes between gangs had to be settled according to gang rules. Anyone who involved the police would be despised and ostracized by all gangs and might even face vigilante justice, like Jim''s wife did.


    Pronto had no idea that Wood had kidnapped Graf''s mother and brother, which explained the swift and ruthless retaliatory killings.


    At that moment, Pronto classified the two murders as acts of revenge. But he also knew that no matter how he labeled it, it didn''t change one fact: war had begun. He furrowed his brow slightly and asked, "Is there any way to de-escalate this? Like finding a mediator, getting both bosses to sit down and talk, and avoid a full blown war?"


    Shaun cast a disdainful glance at Pronto. The way he moved, the look in his eyes¡ªit was as if he were a gang member himself. "Are you kidding? Wood''s already lost two of his top men. Do you really think he''s going to agree to a sit down?"


    "Forgive my bluntness, but this is beyond your ability to stop or interfere with. You don''t have the... capacity." What Shaun really wanted to say was that Pronto didn''t have the qualifications. Sure, Pronto was an impressive figure as the police chief of Ternell, responsible for the city''s security.


    But so what? He wasn''t a robot, nor was he a war machine. He was just a chubby human being, no different from the thugs on the street. He could make a mistake, just like anyone else. He could be injured by a knife or killed by a bullet, just like Jim. In fact, he might even be more vulnerable because he didn''t have the same level of caution as those thugs.


    Of course, when everyone played by the rules, Pronto, as the police chief, was the biggest piece on the chessboard. Everyone had to respect and follow the rules he laid down. But once someone stepped outside those rules, what was Pronto then?


    Just another imperial official who could be assassinated, silenced like anyone else.


    So, in Shaun''s eyes, Pronto didn''t count for much. He was far less dangerous than those gangsters who weren''t afraid to kill.


    While Shaun was focused on Pronto, Pronto''s attention was on the name Shaun had casually mentioned¡ªGraf, and more importantly, Julian!


    "You mean... Julian?" Even now, Pronto couldn''t believe it. "You''re telling me that the person going to war with Wood is a guy named Julian?"


    Shaun nodded, a bit puzzled. "Yeah, Julian. The whole city of Ternell knows about him by now. He''s young, ruthless, and shrewd. Most importantly, they''re not afraid to kill. When Wood''s men went missing, everyone suspected it was Julian''s doing, though there''s no proof.


    Impressive kid, but hey, I wasn''t too bad back in the day either¡­"


    Sixteen!


    A young man!


    Pronto''s heart inexplicably raced. He touched the heavy key to his Imperial Central Bank safety deposit box in his chest pocket, suddenly finding it burdensome. After a moment of thought, he ignored Shaun''s reminiscing about his lost youth and drove straight to the Imperial Central Bank, where he located the safety deposit box the key belonged to.


    Inside the box were ten stacks of ten-dollar bills. Although they were labeled as "old bills," they weren''t very old¡ªjust circulated and used bills with non sequential serial numbers. Tracking these bills was difficult, even for the Imperial Bureau of Criminal Investigation, which made them the favorite type of currency for bribe takers. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In the past, Pronto would have been thrilled¡ªafter all, ten thousand dollars was the largest "donation" he had ever received. But now, he couldn''t bring himself to smile.


    Because the person who had given him this money was Julian!


    More importantly, he now understood Julian''s methods. That seemingly young, innocent looking boy had orchestrated two brutal murders, right out in the open. He didn''t care about witnesses¡ªPronto even suspected he wanted to be seen. It was his way of sending a message, a signal to all the bigwigs in Ternell: they had a new player in town!


    ...


    Though a storm was clearly brewing, there wasn''t even a hint of tension in the air.


    Wood stared at the three bodies on the ground, his eyes filled with sorrow. People on the outside called him a thug, a mad butcher, but that didn''t mean a butcher or a thug was devoid of feelings. He was still human, capable of joy, anger, sadness, and happiness. Both Jim and Jiji had been with him for a long time. These two men were more than just his comrades¡ªthey were like family to him.


    Whether they were so poor they couldn''t afford to eat meat or charging into battle against powerful enemies, these two had always stuck by his side, never once falling behind. Their presence had become an inseparable part of Wood''s life, something that could never be erased, no matter the method or the moment.


    But now, they were dead, their bodies lying right before him.


    He wanted to cry, but he couldn''t find the tears to break through his eyes.

 Chapter 72 - 72 The Consequences Of Interrupting The Guar Crucifixion

    He almost felt like laughing¡ªafter all, they had promised to travel the world together when they were old and gray, but they''d taken a step ahead of him and would never get to enjoy those sights.


    In a way, they were the ones who lost out!


    No matter how turbulent the emotions storming within him, his outward appearance betrayed nothing. He sat backward in a chair, his hands resting on the back of it, propping up his chin. He had been staring at the three bodies for a long time, without moving, as though time had frozen around him.


    Inside the room, a few others were present, with even more people gathered outside, but no one dared to make a sound. They all wanted to know what to do next, but no one had the courage to ask.


    After what seemed like an eternity, as the oppressive atmosphere threatened to drive everyone mad, Robin stepped forward. He grabbed a white cloth and covered the three bodies. Wood''s gaze shifted from Jim and Jiji to Robin. His eyes were deep, filled with rage and violence, yet eerily calm.


    "Tell me, when you were a teenager, did you ever think a day like this would come? That one day, I, or someone else, or maybe even these two idiots, would suddenly leave us and be embraced by the Lord?" Wood''s tone was steady as he spoke, but only Robin could sense the faint tremor in his voice.


    Robin thought for a moment, then shook his head. "You need to pull yourself together now. You didn''t just have them, you also have¡­"


    Before Robin could finish, Wood abruptly stood up, lifting the chair and slamming it to the ground. Splinters of wood flew in all directions. He picked up what was left of the chair''s backrest and smashed it against the wall. With a loud crash, the backrest shattered into pieces.


    Wood paced back and forth a few times, pointing at Robin but saying nothing. He paced again, then stopped, looking straight at Robin. "I want blood for blood. Send Graf''s mother and brother to serve as slaves for those two idiots!" It was the only solution Wood could think of that would satisfy his rage.


    But Robin didn''t move, remaining where he stood.


    "What? Didn''t you hear me?" Wood''s voice grew louder as he stormed over to Robin, nearly face to face. Staring directly into Robin''s eyes, he asked in a voice dripping with hatred, "Or do you think I can''t command you anymore?"


    Robin took a step back, raising his hands with palms outward in a calming gesture. "You need to stay calm. Killing them won''t solve anything¡ªit will only make things worse. To be honest, I''d rather send them to meet the Lord right away myself. I almost died because of them."


    "If you blindly kill Graf''s mother and brother now, all it will do is make more Guar supporters rally to their cause, making them even stronger. It won''t benefit us at all. Wood, you have to calm down!"


    As Robin spoke, the sound of glass shattering suddenly came from upstairs. A group of men wearing trench coats and bowler hats rushed out of the room.


    Wood and Robin were momentarily stunned. A couple of men quickly went upstairs to investigate, and within two minutes, they returned, holding a brick with a piece of paper attached to it. The man who brought it down had an odd expression on his face as he set the brick on the table.


    Wood snorted and walked over, pulling the paper from the brick. Scrawled in crooked handwriting, it read: "All traitors must face the consequences of their actions. You freed her, so now you will take her place and face judgment!"


    Wood read it twice before shoving the paper into Robin''s hands. "What the hell does this mean?"


    Robin glanced at the note, his expression darkening. He turned to look at the three bodies covered with white cloth and said in a low voice, "In the Guar faith, traitors are flayed and left crucified to bake in the sun for three days. If they survive those three days, it means they''ve been forgiven by their faith and can live on."


    "The process cannot be interrupted. If someone interrupts it, that person must take their place and face the judgment." S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Robin wasn''t a Guar, but he had heard about their customs after Jim''s wife had been flayed, which had left him in disbelief. He had asked someone with knowledge of the Guar faith and learned what flaying meant.


    There weren''t many words on the note, but the message was clear: someone was going to flay Wood. Whether it was someone from Julian''s side or another Guar, it wasn''t good news. It would crush the morale of everyone. Robin stuffed the note into his pocket and crumpled it, ensuring no one else would see it.


    The men who had rushed out earlier came back empty-handed, though they reported hearing from the gatekeeper that the culprit was just a child, no older than thirteen or fourteen.


    Wood and Robin exchanged a glance¡ªit had to be one of Julian''s men.


    "We have to strike back!" Wood shouted, clenching his fist. His words lifted the spirits of everyone in the room. With two key figures dead, doing nothing would only lead to disappointment. When Wood spoke of retaliation, they nearly erupted in cheers. Wood paced a few more steps. "Have we found out where Julian and Graf are hiding?"


    With Jim and Jiji dead, Robin had effectively become Wood''s "right-hand man." He quickly replied, "Our men are keeping an eye on Graf. We''ve also got someone watching Julian. They''re holed up in an office on Queen''s Avenue."


    A cruel smile crept across Wood''s face. "What are we waiting for then?"


    ...


    "They''re coming out!"


    Outside the security booth at Maixiang Garden, a young plainclothes officer spotted a group of people emerging from Wood''s villa and quickly ducked back.

 Chapter 73 - 73 Benefits Of Walking

    Pronto had stationed him here with instructions to report any large scale movements of Wood''s men directly to the police station. If anything like that happened, the officer was to notify Pronto immediately.


    The young officer showed no sign of fear or tension despite the looming threat of a gang war. Instead, his face was filled with the excitement and anticipation typical of youth. He, too, was a young man with the same restless energy, eager to prove himself and make a mark on the world.


    In many ways, he wasn''t so different from the gang members wandering the streets, except perhaps for his fortunate upbringing, which had given him a respectable job right after school.


    Being a police officer was certainly a respectable job, but it wasn''t necessarily one that satisfied the ambitions of a young man. It was a job suited for older men nearing retirement, not for someone still full of curiosity and dreams for the future.


    Three cars¡ªno, four¡ªquickly pulled out of Maixiang Garden, packed with people. The young officer clenched his fists tightly as he watched them drive away. He immediately grabbed his unlocked bicycle, ready to follow. His older partner, however, grabbed his arm before he could leave. The younger officer tried to shake him off but couldn''t.


    The older officer shook his head, advising, "Listen to me. Don''t go after them. As a police officer, you''re in more danger than anyone else."


    The young officer retorted, "Exactly because I''m a police officer, I have to follow them. You go back to the station and tell the chief that Wood is probably out for revenge. I''ll follow them." With that, he pried the older officer''s hand off and pedaled away on his bike.


    The older officer called out after him a few times, but the young man didn''t look back. All that was left was the sight of his retreating figure and his name echoing in the air.


    The older officer shook his head and mounted his own bike, pedaling hard toward the station, hoping to get back to the safety of the station as quickly as possible.


    The news soon made its way back to the Ternell City Police Station, and Pronto was informed. Faced with Wood''s impending act of vengeance, Pronto had few options. He could either take all his men and try to stop the revenge attack¡ªwhich might force Wood to back down, but only temporarily. Wood would still march toward Queen Street tomorrow, determined to find Julian.


    And there was another risk: if Julian managed to escape due to Pronto''s interference, Wood might hold him responsible.


    Pronto never believed that his position as police chief made him untouchable. Even the imperial prime minister had been assassinated twice, so what made him, a mere local police chief, think he could avoid all threats?


    Ignoring the situation entirely would also bring trouble.


    Gang wars were always a sensitive topic, especially for politicians who wanted their territories to seem peaceful and prosperous. If something happened that shattered that illusion, the always smiling politicians wouldn''t be smiling anymore. As the primary person responsible for Ternell''s security, Pronto would be the first to face questioning, and he might even be dismissed and investigated.


    On one side was the possibility of angering a powerful figure, which could lead to threats. On the other was the risk of losing his position and the chair beneath him. After only a brief moment of thought, Pronto made his decision.


    He would intervene¡ªnot to stop the conflict, but at least to manage it. That way, if anyone asked later, he wouldn''t bear too much responsibility. He could argue that he had done his best, but given the outdated equipment and the elderly officers in the Ternell police force, he simply couldn''t do more.


    It wouldn''t be his fault! S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With that in mind, he immediately had his secretary inform all officers to gear up and prepare to move out. As he did so, a troubling thought crossed his mind. Two officers from the night patrol had mysteriously disappeared recently, and their families had been causing a commotion at the station for days before he managed to calm them down.


    Whether those two had been killed or run off after doing something shady, they had left him with a mess to deal with.


    When all the available officers were ready to move, a police sergeant in his thirties asked, "Chief, are we going on foot or driving?"


    Pronto''s eyes widened. "Of course we''re walking!"


    The older officers, who had been a bit tense, immediately relaxed upon hearing this. Walking?


    No problem!


    It would take about fifteen minutes to walk from 11th Street to Queen Street at a fast pace, and no more than half an hour at a slower pace. By the time they arrived, Wood''s men would likely already be at Queen Street. By the time they got there, the fight would probably be over, and the bodies cold. They could simply show up, clean up the mess, and that would be that.


    Just as they thought, four cars packed with people stopped in front of one of Julian''s properties. Wood looked at the lifeless building and felt his eyelid twitch.


    "Are you sure they''re inside?" he asked, glancing at Robin, who had just stepped out of the driver''s seat. "Because I don''t think anyone''s in there."


    Robin looked at the corner building with its large glass windows, which showed off the newly furnished interior of the first floor. But there wasn''t a person in sight. The curtains were drawn on the second and third floors, hiding whatever was inside. Robin hesitated and glanced around.


    At that moment, a figure in a high-collared trench coat and bowler hat, wrapped tightly in layers, emerged from a nearby alley.


    "Are they still inside?" Robin asked.


    The figure nodded, taking one last drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and grinding it out with his foot. "I saw Julian go in with my own eyes. They haven''t come out. They''re definitely still in there."

 Chapter 74 - 74 Robin Last Moments

    Robin looked to Wood. Wood waved his hand without saying a word, and two men wielding clubs smashed the first-floor windows and opened the door from the inside. At least twenty men swarmed into the building, armed with clubs, machetes, and two with handguns.


    After searching the first floor and finding no one, they charged up the stairs to the second floor like wolves. That''s when Julian''s men struck back.


    Several broken stone pillars were thrown down from the second floor, crushing some of the men who had rushed ahead. Skulls cracked open, legs were shattered, and the air filled with agonized wails.


    In this kind of fight, stairways were the best places to defend and the hardest to attack. Stairways were narrow, allowing at most two people to pass at a time, while the top of the stairs was wide open, allowing a larger group to attack the smaller one below.


    This was why sieges in the age of cold weapons required waves of lives to fill the gaps¡ªbecause the attackers were always outnumbered by those defending.


    One man, who had been at the back of the group, rushed forward, spotted a figure on the second floor, and fired two quick shots without bothering to aim. The bullets tore into the wood, sending splinters flying. Taking advantage of their enemy''s hesitation, several more men charged up the stairs.


    The sound of fighting and shouting filled the air, with occasional gunfire ringing out. Not long after, three more cars sped down the street and screeched to a halt nearby. More men poured out¡ªthese were the ones who had heard of Wood''s revenge and had come from other parts of the city. They were armed with clubs and machetes and rushed up the stairs without a word. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    They were even more eager to kill Julian and Graf. These were Jim and Jiji''s men, desperate to avenge their bosses by taking the lives of Julian or Graf.


    Just as the noise of battle began to spread to the third floor, Robin noticed something moving at the edge of his vision.


    Humans are animals, too, and are naturally more sensitive to movement. When Robin turned to see what had caught his attention, his eyes narrowed, and in an instant, every hair on his body stood on end as chills ran down his spine!


    In the shattered glass mirror, Robin saw his frail self, the disheveled Wood beside him, and behind them, a group of young faces wearing flat caps began to close in.


    Sometimes, gangs are indeed better than the police at figuring things out. For instance, when Jiji was killed, someone saw a young man in a trench coat and flat cap approach Jiji, pull a gun from his pocket, and shoot Jiji in the head. He was a very delicate looking young man, with features that leaned toward the feminine. Some even swore that it was a girl, not a boy.


    However, no matter what, Robin came to one conclusion: they were facing a "young enemy." Apart from Graf, most of the people in this unique group were young¡ªfifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, or around twenty years old. They were all Guars, all impoverished and destitute. They needed to change something, so they became Julian''s accomplices, helping him brutally murder his own brother.


    So what about the people behind them right now? Were they also part of Julian''s gang?


    In that instant, Robin''s mind seemed to flash back to his younger days, when every detail and every clue worth noting separated themselves from countless fragments, piecing together. In the next second, he grabbed Wood by the collar and, with Wood''s astonished expression, rushed towards the nearest car.


    It was a trap!


    He shouted frantically, "Those people upstairs are just bait, we are the real targets!" He shoved Wood into the back seat of the car, not even bothering to close the door, his leg already stepping into the driver''s seat.


    The car keys were still in the ignition. He just needed to push a lever, let the catalyst enter the filling chamber, react with the crystal, and then wait for about ten seconds, and the car would quickly speed down the street.


    But in just those one or two seconds, he heard footsteps closing in, felt a hand grab his collar, pulling him back. His face flushed, gripping the steering wheel, and with his other hand, he reached under the driver''s seat. Most people liked to keep handy items there. As he grabbed a wrench, he felt a sharp pain in his lower back. Without even looking, he swung the wrench backward.


    With a dull thud, his hand tingled, and the force holding his collar suddenly disappeared. He scrambled into the driver''s seat, twisted the key, and pushed the lever. He could feel the catalyst already reacting violently with the crystal, and the car began to tremble slightly. Glancing to the side, he saw a group of young people rushing towards him.


    With a loud crash, the driver''s window shattered, and several knives plunged into his body. He clamped down on their arms with all his strength, and at that moment, the car''s tremors intensified. He stomped on the accelerator, and the car lurched forward.


    In the back seat, Wood gasped for breath. He had also been attacked, with a slash on his back, another on his arm, and a cut about ten centimeters long on his face, the skin peeled back, exposing the yellowish fat beneath. He was panting heavily, his whole body aching, but at that moment, he felt most grateful to Robin.


    If they had been just a little slower, he might have been killed. He had to admit that these young people were ruthless and decisive, always aiming for vital points with each attack. If not for Wood''s habit of staying active, he would likely be dead by now.


    "When we get back, bring in Godor''s men. No matter the cost, I want that guy dead in front of me!" Wood growled through gritted teeth, wincing in pain. He knew he had been too reckless and too impulsive. He should have listened to Robin, waited until everything was planned out before making a move, instead of rushing out blindly in a fit of rage without any preparation.

 Chapter 75 - 75 The Slaughter

    He patted Robin on the shoulder. "I''m sorry. I should have listened to you!"


    Suddenly, the car swerved, and Wood was flung to one side, crashing hard against the door. With a thud, his shoulder was cut again by the shattered glass. He looked at Robin in confusion, but before he could speak, the speeding car came to an abrupt halt.


    With a screech of brakes, the tires smoked, leaving four long black skid marks on the ground, stretching more than twenty meters before the car finally stopped.


    Robin struggled to keep his eyes open, pushing the door open and tumbling out, collapsing to the ground. Wood''s mind went blank as he followed him out of the car. He looked down at Robin, who lay on his back, his chest barely rising and falling. Wood''s eyes immediately filled with tears. He screamed aimlessly, roaring as he knelt down, cradling Robin in his arms, shaking him desperately.


    Three fatal wounds¡ªtwo pierced his chest, one pierced his abdomen, and a large amount of blood had turned Robin''s favorite light brown wool sweater into a dark, blackish red.


    Coughing, Robin spat out a mouthful of blood, and for a moment, he seemed to improve. He opened his eyes, looked at Wood, and slowly lifted his hand, clutching Wood''s sleeve tightly. "Round the world trip..." The last word never left his mouth. His body tensed, then relaxed completely, and his hand slowly fell to the ground.


    Staring at Robin, now devoid of life, Wood remained silent for a moment. He suppressed the pain in his body and stuffed Robin into the back seat. By now, a crowd had gathered to watch, but he didn''t care in the slightest. He swore, he would avenge his brother, no matter the cost!


    Meanwhile, elsewhere, a massacre had just begun.


    Julian plunged a knife into the back of the guy who had been keeping watch in the alley. In fact, three days earlier, Julian had already noticed that someone was constantly observing the company from outside. The man thought he was well hidden, but who wears a bowler hat and a high collared trench coat every day, hiding in the same alley?


    So Julian bought the house next door and secretly had a door installed.


    When the guy outside thought Julian hadn''t left, he had already moved to the back room, changed clothes, crossed the street, and walked into the building next to the guy. He had rented an entire floor there, just in case of a sudden attack.


    When Wood showed up, all of Julian''s precautions paid off many times over!


    Pedestrians on the street either fled in panic or stood at a distance, silently watching. Julian, wearing a mask, ignored the man''s desperate gasps as if drowning. He pulled the bloodied knife out of his body.


    By then, some of the men from the company had retreated outside, but when they saw a group of teenagers with knives stabbing the five guards to death on the ground, and noticed that Wood and Robin were gone, their minds went blank.


    They had the advantage, the enemy was supposed to be hiding on the third floor¡ªso how had the situation turned around so suddenly?


    A guy holding a gun had just rushed out of the company''s front door, staring blankly at the group of masked youths closing in. In that moment of confusion, Dave fired. The bullet hit the guy square in the forehead. Because of the short distance, his head jerked back, and he fell to the ground, still twitching, struggling to get up.


    The gunshot was like a signal, the beginning of a bloody massacre.


    Meanwhile, Pronto was walking slowly, wiping sweat from his brow and gasping for air. "God above, will someone help me out?"


    ...


    In Julian''s dreams, the figure who had always appeared often warned him with a phrase: ''When two meet on a narrow road, the brave shall win!''"


    If you don''t want to become someone else''s stepping stone, then make others your stepping stones.


    "Fate is relatively fair. It gives opportunities to everyone, but whether one can see those opportunities and seize them has little to do with fate. For instance, a farmer might face years of drought, yet in a single rainy season, their fortunes could change entirely. But all this requires one''s actions to always be brave and bold."


    It may have been brief, but at least he shone with a brilliance that lasted for decades.


    This time, it was Julian''s opportunity. He would not let it slip away. If he eliminated Wood, he would undoubtedly secure a place for himself in Ternell City. Others might underestimate him for his lack of foundation and accumulation, but that didn''t matter to him. He only needed people to fear him, not respect him.


    Fear would make them listen to him, obey his orders, and become his sheep.


    Respect would inevitably lead to questioning, opposition, and even obstacles in his path.


    Therefore, Wood must die!


    The slaughter spread from downstairs to upstairs, and the thugs crammed on the stairs were in despair. They realized that their opponents this time were unlike any they had ever encountered before. These enemies didn''t shout or curse to boost their morale or insult others. They were like beings born for killing¡ªsilent, efficient assassins.


    Every blade strike found a vital point, and every swing of their weapons aimed for the head.


    More importantly, they were unafraid of death. Like famished wolves who had tasted fresh blood, they only wanted more. They knew no fear, only the hunger to devour their enemies.


    A brand new truck emerged from one of the alleyways. Julian had bought it with cash from Ternell City''s only truck dealership four days ago. It was the most common "Hero 50" model on the market.


    The truck got its name from the Star Empire''s war of national defense, where railway lines for steam locomotives were severely damaged, preventing supplies and reinforcements from reaching the frontlines by train. The commanding general had to requisition a large number of trucks, transporting soldiers and supplies to the front lines batch by batch.


    S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 76 - 76 Aftermath

    According to official statistics, each truck of this model, along with its driver and co-driver, could fit up to fifty people, stacking them like cargo. After the war, during a victory speech in the capital, the prime minister passionately proclaimed that the transport capacity and reliability of these trucks had been crucial in ending the war as planned, in victory.


    This truck was the hero among trucks, a true hero''s truck!


    The truck slowly pulled up to the company''s entrance. A few young men immediately began loading the corpses onto the truck. As the bodies piled up, blood started to drip through the gaps in the truck bed, and the sounds of slaughter within the company began to subside. Corpses were carried out by the young men, thrown onto the truck as if they were nothing.


    When the last injured thug, still barely alive, let out a faint moan, Dave walked over and plunged a dagger into his chest.


    He, too, was tossed onto the truck.


    The truck, loaded with bodies, along with a dozen injured young men and several members of The Fellowship Association who would never stand again, headed out of the city. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    What followed was a thorough cleanup. The girls and boys washed away the bloodstains on the road with water, and the blood splattered throughout the company''s interior was wiped away. Places that bore signs of struggle were smashed into fine pieces with thirty-pound hammers.


    If one ignored the pinkish water flowing into the sewers, no one would ever suspect that a battle had taken place here, one that claimed over thirty lives.


    As the cleanup was underway, the protector of Ternell City, Director Pronto, finally arrived, wobbling slightly with the support of two strong officers. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the sweat off his face, and sighed in satisfaction, "This damn weather is too hot..." His curious eyes glanced toward the building behind Julian.


    There were no gang members with drawn swords, no blood soaked, mangled bodies¡ªnone of the scenes he had expected.


    Wasn''t Wood supposed to be seeking revenge?


    Before Pronto could greet him, Julian disappeared into the alley, returning three minutes later in a different outfit, his mask removed. Pronto squinted, feeling a pang of jealousy. He understood why Julian had done this and had to admire his caution, prudence, and cleverness.


    Pronto then noticed a small detail: all the young people quickly dispersing from the street were wearing masks. If this wasn''t Kevin''s idea, then the young man smiling faintly in front of him was terrifyingly shrewd. Whatever had happened here, whatever witnesses might step forward to accuse Julian, they would have to face cross-examination from lawyers.


    How could they be certain of someone''s identity when they only saw two eyes under a hat and mask?


    Pronto could already imagine a group of young men standing before the court, all wearing hats and masks, indistinguishable from one another. How could any witness positively identify Julian in such a situation? Without clear identification, no matter how many people claimed they saw Julian, their testimony wouldn''t stand.


    Especially in a society where money could change certain things, without witnesses, testimony, or evidence and with money there would be no need for a trial, only a direct acquittal.


    This young man was very clever. And also very dangerous. At least for now, it seemed Wood had suffered a loss.


    "Director Pronto, is there some major event happening for you to bring so many officers with you?" Julian pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Pronto.


    Normally, Pronto would have refused¡ªnot because of the quality of the cigarette, but due to the difference in social class. Sometimes, the gap is so vast that even if you offer a delicious piece of meat to those in high positions, they''ll reject it not because the meat isn''t good, but because the person offering it isn''t "worthy."


    But this time, Pronto accepted it and put it in his mouth. Julian lit it for him and then lit his own.


    Pronto thought for a moment before smiling and saying, "The weather''s been cooling down, and the city''s heating hasn''t started yet. It''s cold in the office, so I brought the officers out for a walk to warm up."


    He was offering Julian a favor, knowing that whatever had happened today was no longer his concern. Anyone trying to pin this on him would need to consider if it was worth it.


    Julian nodded in agreement, criticizing the city''s inaction, then shifted the topic. "How about this? I''ll personally donate fifty radiators to the police station so that everyone can stay warm as the weather changes before the heating starts."


    A single radiator cost fifteen dollars, making it a total of seven hundred fifty dollars¡ªnot too much, but not too little. More importantly, he wasn''t giving money. Money only garners attention for a brief time, and once it''s spent, it''s forgotten. But items are different. Especially radiators¡ªthey could be used at home or in the office.


    Every time someone used them, they''d remember who had given them the radiators.


    Even if someone had a personal grudge against him, using the radiators that improved their living and working conditions would slowly change their perception.


    Pronto immediately nodded in praise, warmly shaking Julian''s hand and patting his arm¡ªhe didn''t dare pat Julian''s shoulder. "On behalf of all the officers in Ternell City, I thank you for your generosity!" He glanced back, and the stunned officers snapped to attention, clapping in unison.


    Julian smiled and said, "It''s only right. As a member of this city, this is what I should do. It''s because of your protection that our city is so peaceful and beautiful!"


    After the two exchanged some words that no one else could understand, Pronto immediately led the officers away. After walking a short distance, the friendly smile on his face gradually faded. He paused, stopped in his tracks, and slightly turned his body, glancing over his shoulder to watch Julian and two young men walk into the nearly destroyed storefront before shifting his gaze back.

 Chapter 77 - 77 Casualties

    On the way back to the police station, Pronto didn''t say a word, and his face remained expressionless the entire time, maintaining a stern look from start to finish.


    To be honest, he didn''t like Julian. In fact, he disliked him very much. If given a choice, he would currently choose to support Wood instead of Julian. As part of the rule makers in Ternell City, he didn''t like "disruptors" who easily crossed the line and broke the rules. Those big figures above him the council members, or the mayor wouldn''t like Julian either.


    They preferred players like Wood, who followed the rules. Wood played by the game these powerful figures created, carefully maintaining the order. No matter what he encountered, Wood''s first thought was not to overstep, which was precisely what the rule makers appreciated.


    They had painstakingly crafted a vast and complex system of order, not for it to be broken, but to see everyone work together to maintain it, ensuring the smooth operation of the game.


    But Pronto had to show a level of closeness with Julian, and it was only at this moment that he realized the quiet, obedient young man at the dinner table, who barely spoke, was far from the silent person he appeared to be! S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    That ten thousand dollars had become too hot to handle, impossible to shake off. Even if it felt like a scorching piece of meat, he had no choice but to swallow it whole because Julian was someone who didn''t follow the rules.


    Feeling deeply troubled, Pronto returned to the police station and headed back to his office. He pulled out a bottle of high end liquor gifted to him by someone and poured himself a glass.


    He needed to think. Think about how to pull this guy, who had one foot already outside the lines, back into control¡ªat least, to stop him from acting so recklessly.


    Pronto may not have noticed that a young officer hadn''t followed them. Having just witnessed the brutal massacre and the swift cleanup as if nothing had happened, the other officers had also overlooked the fact that this young officer had trailed Wood''s car and had yet to return.


    This officer had been there the whole time, standing by the roadside, witnessing the entire "murder" unfold. He was angry, confused, and utterly at a loss.


    When had the line between black and white become so blurred in Ternell City? When he saw Pronto leading a group of officers to the scene, he had even thought that the chief was going to arrest these ruthless, brutal gang members. He had been ready to step forward and testify against Julian for his actions earlier.


    But when he saw the hot tempered chief conversing with that young man like old friends, even waving goodbye, he felt ashamed¡ªhe felt humiliated!


    "I am an officer. Upholding justice is my duty..."


    He had always told himself this, even though his original aspiration wasn''t to be a police officer.


    In that moment, his worldview, values, and outlook on life were shattered. He felt the need to talk to his family to figure out whether it was he who was sick, or the world around him.


    As he turned and walked away, Julian, with a dark expression, entered his store. The entire building had already been cleaned once, but the place still reeked of disinfectant, a harsh smell that masked the stench of blood and a faint rotten odor.


    The disinfectant had been purchased from a hospital at Julian''s request¡ªone dollar for less than three gallons of it, pungent enough to cover the smell of blood.


    Everyone gathered around, and Julian''s gaze lingered on each person for a moment. Except for a few girls, almost everyone was wounded. However, their spirits were high. None of them appeared dejected or in pain; instead, they seemed... exhilarated, meeting Julian''s eyes with fervor.


    "How many of us died?" Julian couldn''t help but light another cigarette, needing to ease the pressure in his heart.


    Dave smiled wryly, "Six are dead. One was shot, and the other five were stabbed to death." He paused, then added, "Nine are seriously injured. Of those, maybe only four or five will fully recover. The rest will likely be left with permanent disabilities."


    For the families of these men, they had raised their children for over a decade, only for them to suddenly leave this world. Even if it was just a pet cat or dog that died, it would still be heartbreaking, let alone a living, breathing person¡ªa relative with deep emotional ties.


    Of course, the situation wasn''t as unbearable as one might imagine. In most families of the Guars, there were often multiple children. Though losing one was certainly heartbreaking, it wasn''t entirely unmanageable.


    Julian paced back and forth a few steps and then said, "Everyone who attended today''s gathering... fifty dollars each." When he mentioned fifty dollars, the young men''s eyes practically lit up, and the girls glanced enviously at them. Julian pointed at them, "You all get fifty as well!" At that, the girls grinned from ear to ear, laughing foolishly.


    They were certainly saddened by the loss of their brothers, as well as those who were now facing permanent disabilities. But they were more pleased with their rewards. To put it bluntly, they were risking their lives for fortune. Their lives were cheap, but even a cheap life had its price.


    Fifty dollars was half a year''s wages for some people, and for these teenagers eager to prove themselves, it was no small sum.


    Julian wasn''t finished. He continued, "Those who were injured get an additional fifty, and the company will cover all medical expenses. For those left disabled, they get an extra hundred. Once they''re out of the hospital, they can work in the company, starting at twenty dollars a month, with annual raises."


    By this point, many were deeply moved. In society, those who were injured or disabled while working for gangs were usually given some easy job. The pay wasn''t great¡ªenough to keep them fed and clothed but not enough to save or plan for a future. After all, gangs operated illegal businesses and didn''t have many positions to support non-working members.

 Chapter 78 - 78 Those Living At The Bottom Of Society

    But this was different. Twenty dollars a month, with yearly raises, meant that even if they were disabled, they wouldn''t have to worry about survival. They could save money, buy a house, or even start a small business in the future.


    Dave nodded quietly. This level of treatment was indeed very high, at least by Ternell''s standards.


    Julian took a deep breath, flicked his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, scattering a few sparks, and said, "As for the brothers who have already sacrificed themselves, each family will receive five hundred dollars, and the same twenty-dollar monthly allowance, with a two-dollar annual increase! No matter what, you are all my brothers and sisters!"


    "There''s no such thing as brothers and sisters sacrificing for me while I remain indifferent. Once you''re my family, you''ll always be my family. Today, they left us, but their parents are now my parents, and their siblings are now my siblings. As long as I, Julian, have fortune, they will never lack food or clothing!"


    "If one day, I fail to fulfill what I''ve promised today, any of you can come find me with a knife in hand, and I won''t resist!"


    As his resolute words echoed through the room, only the sound of heavy breathing remained.


    The atmosphere was thick with solemnity, as if frozen in place!


    The powerful words resonated deeply with the young people, moving them to their core. They stood there, already prepared for the dangers ahead. The poverty-stricken lives they led, the crushing burdens of their families, weighed heavily on these teenagers, barely giving them room to breathe.


    Yet, despite all of this, they still held on to their dreams of tomorrow, their hopes for a better future, and that is why they found themselves here.


    Given the choice, no one would willingly join a gang and live a life constantly teetering on the edge of danger.


    But they had no other choice. They could either become laborers at the very bottom of society, working long hours of backbreaking physical labor for barely enough wages to support their families. Eventually, they would marry someone equally uneducated, toiling in a job that, in the eyes of the wealthy, was considered degrading.


    They would live in dark, shabby slums and spend their days bickering over trivial matters, leading a grey, monotonous life.


    Or, they could risk their lives to fight for a brilliant future. Even though the road ahead might lead to failure, or they might be forever stuck where they started, at least they would have tried. They would have tried to seize their dreams and the future they longed for with their own hands. Even if it led to death, at least they would have embraced it.


    When that moment came, they wouldn''t regret it.


    Better to light a moment of brilliance than to waste away a lifetime!


    The heavy breathing of the boys revealed their stirred emotions. They wanted to shout, to cheer. Never before had they imagined that they were so close to their dreams¡ªso close they could almost reach out and hold their future and ideals in their hands.


    It wasn''t a dream, nor a deception. It was real, something tangible that made them feel the sun shining brightly and its warmth touching them.


    Julian''s promise erased their last hesitation completely. If their lives could be sold, then they''d gladly sell them to him!


    After a moment of silence, Julian turned to Dave and said, "Grab the guns and go find that bastard Graf. I hope he''s gone to Ternell city. But if he''s not there, come back immediately." Then, he pointed to one of the bloodstained young men he had interacted with several times before. "I remember your name is...Eirlys?"


    The boy named Eirlys stepped forward from the crowd, and many eyes turned to him. He was among the first to join the association. His father had died in the war, and the Empire had given their family 86 coins in compensation, with an additional 4 coins each month as a pension.


    But with two younger brothers, a sister, a sick mother, a grandmother, and a grandfather, the burden of survival was overwhelming.


    Before joining the association, Eirlys had worked at a hotel as a helper, earning only four cents an hour. He worked eleven hours a day but was only paid for six¡ªthe Empire''s laws clearly stated that child laborers under sixteen could not work more than four hours a day, and those under eighteen no more than six.


    He didn''t dare resist, knowing full well that if he lost his job, his family would have no means of survival. His meager wages could not cover even a few days without work. So, despite his reluctance, he numbly endured everything¡ªuntil his friends found him.


    Eirlys was stronger than most boys his age, but he was shorter, likely due to working from a young age and the lack of proper nutrition. His heart pounded like a drum as he stood before Julian, so excited that he even forgot the pain from his wounds.


    Julian raised his hand, pointed at him, and opened his mouth. "From today onwards, you''re promoted to group leader!"


    Eirlys began trembling. This meant that his family and their bleak future had been completely transformed. He walked over to Julian, holding his hand with both of his own, and kissed it, tears spilling from his eyes as he repeatedly thanked Julian for this promotion.


    No one knew what he had endured over the past seven years. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    No one.


    Sometimes, he thought he might be better off dead, at least he wouldn''t have to live in constant despair. If it weren''t for his siblings, and the fear that his mother might collapse after losing him, he would have chosen the eternal release long ago.


    But today, everything changed because of a glance, because of a single sentence.


    He didn''t know how to thank Julian, how to show his gratitude, or how to convey the depth of his appreciation.

 Chapter 79 - 79 Rules Of The System

    So, like a pilgrim kneeling before a bishop, he kissed Julian''s hand.


    It was the most respectful gesture he knew.


    "You take a few people and find Wood. Don''t act recklessly, and if you face danger, leave immediately," Julian said, looking at the boy who was so moved that he cried. He felt a bit emotional himself and patted Eirlys on the shoulder. "You''ve earned this. Out of everyone here, you''ve got the most wounds, so this promotion is yours!"


    Eirlys nodded fervently, wiping away his tears. "Don''t worry, I''ll find Wood, even if he''s hiding in the sewers!"


    Julian tossed him a cigarette and lit it for him. Eirlys had never smoked¡ªpoverty hadn''t allowed him to afford it. After taking one puff, he started coughing, making the other boys laugh, easing the tension in the room. Julian smiled, pocketed his lighter, and patted his shoulder again. "What are you waiting for? Go!"


    After Dave and Eirlys chose their team and left, there were only six boys and four girls remaining in the room. The boys stayed behind to handle any emergencies, while the girls were tasked with cleaning up the newly renovated but now wrecked space.


    Julian gave them some instructions before returning to his office. Sitting in the boss''s chair and looking out the window, he felt a bit uneasy.


    According to the plan, assassinating Wood''s right-hand man would infuriate him, making him lose his composure and come for Julian himself. Julian believed that Wood wouldn''t retaliate against Graf''s mother and brother, as doing so would make him appear weak¡ªa perception that could be fatal for someone like Wood. Even if he had the idea, anyone level-headed in his ranks would stop him.


    If your trusted ally gets killed, and you take it out on women and children?


    Can you still call yourself a "big shot"?


    The desire for revenge would force Wood to confront Julian directly, since he knew exactly where Julian was.


    Everything had gone as Julian expected, except he didn''t foresee Graf taking two boys and running off. It was clear to Julian that Graf had gone to save his mother and brother.


    Julian didn''t blame him. After all, they were his family and were in danger. It was the natural thing for a son to do. But by doing so, he had ruined today''s plan to deliver a fatal blow to Wood. If Graf had stayed, Robin wouldn''t have had the chance to get into the car. Though the boys were ruthless, they still lacked the strength of grown men.


    Whether Graf stopped Robin or Wood, the outcome would have been the same.


    Julian stared out the window at the misty clouds floating in the sky, his expression blank as he shook his head.


    ...


    Wood drove his car frantically, racing to the other side of the city. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In Ternell city, a small place hidden from sight, there were strict rules and territories. The entire city''s underworld was controlled by two and a half gangs. It was called two and a half because one of the gangs was barely surviving. That half gang still existed thanks to the influence of the big shots shaping the layout of Ternell city.


    The mayor, the council members, and heads of various departments, they sat in the light, designing the rules for the city. Every "world" had to ensure a certain level of "competition," but also maintain stability as much as possible.


    Simply put, the big shots wanted the gangs and factions to hate each other, but at the same time, they needed to restrain themselves. Moreover, they ensured that no business or channel could ever be completely unified. These big shots understood well that if one gang or force unified the entire city, it wouldn''t be good for them.


    Once that happened, the unified force would gain the power to challenge them. They had no desire to see their position shaken, much less to become losers. So, they established the most favorable rules for themselves and played the game. Whenever a faction showed signs of overpowering the rest, they would support its enemies to strike back.


    The big shots carefully maintained the city''s balance. Maybe it wasn''t the best system, but for Ternell city, it was the most suitable one¡ªat least, for now.


    The underworld of Ternell city was divided into two large areas and one small one. The southwest part of the city and half of the central district were the turf of Tiger, leader of the "Flaming Skull" gang. His main businesses included smuggling contraband and running brothels disguised as community service centers.


    Occasionally, he dabbled in human trafficking, either buying girls from other regions or selling them abroad.


    Tiger was ruthless and extremely cold hearted, but he had one redeeming trait: he strictly adhered to the rules and never crossed the line. He was also very generous.


    Or perhaps it was better to say he loved to splurge.


    He treated his men fairly well, using money as a way to greet people. This drew around him a group of people willing to do anything for money.


    The other half of the central district and all of the eastern district belonged to Gador, leader of the "Lizardmen." He had around 200 men under his command, making him the most powerful and wealthiest in Ternell. People spoke of him as a very clever leader. Many believed that in the next five to ten years, he would rise from being a second rate gang leader to one of the city''s tycoons.


    He barely engaged in illegal activities. His income came primarily from running entertainment venues, such as bars, dance halls, and small theaters. He was smart, something everyone recognized when they spoke of him.


    Besides selling some bootleg liquor in the bars, arranging provocative dances in the dance halls, and putting on risqu¨¦ performances in the theaters, he hadn''t done anything else illegal. Of course, brawls and making certain people disappear didn''t count those were just gang activities.

 Chapter 80 - 80 The Real Intent Behind Whitewashing

    Wood was very familiar with him. Through the bootleg liquor trade, Wood ran three different sized bars for Gador, which required large quantities of low cost, high profit bootleg alcohol. Wood could meet all of Gador''s needs for such liquor, so they were not only business partners but also friends.


    When things went wrong, Wood''s first thought was to find Gador. With their long standing relationship and a bit of money, Gador could easily take Julian out. At this moment, Wood was filled with regret. Ten years ago, he had been nearly identical to Gador one step away from becoming a tycoon, with a large group of various men under his command.


    Even the city''s biggest players would tip their hats to him in greeting.


    Then he had taken that step forward. To make himself more suitable for the image of a successful upper class man, he disbanded his gang and relocated many of his men. He opened his fine suits and presented himself as harmless to everyone, stepping into the halls of the elite.


    But now, he regretted it.


    In all these years, aside from money and a bit of minor fame, he hadn''t gained much else. Those real big shots had looked down on him before, and they still did. His fancy suits and slicked back hair hadn''t changed their opinion. Just because he stopped making people lose their most valuable possessions didn''t make them respect him. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In this city, nothing had really changed for him those he couldn''t offend, he still couldn''t; and those who dared not offend him still wouldn''t.


    But he had lost the most important thing of all his axe, the symbol of his madness!


    It was at this moment that he suddenly realized the true intent behind the rules. When someone exceeded the limits, the rules would push them into another realm, forcing them to voluntarily disarm before they could become a real threat.


    Dazed, his car sped into Gador''s estate in the eastern district. A group of armed men rushed up to the stopped car, dragged Wood out, and pulled him inside.


    Gador stood on the second floor balcony of his manor, watching as Wood was hauled out. He frowned. Waving his hand, he ordered his men to bring Wood inside and called for a doctor. At the same time, he sent a team out to gather information.


    He wanted to know what had left "Wood the Axeman" in such a dire situation, fighting for his life.


    Before long, Julian''s information was laid out on his desk. To Gador, the city held few secrets. As the head of the most powerful gang in Ternell, he had access to plenty of resources.


    "Does anyone know anything about this association or this Julian guy?" Gador asked, leaning back on the sofa in the grand hall, his legs crossed, the polished tips of his shoes reflecting the soft glow of the chandelier above.


    Most of the people in the hall remained silent, including a few Guars. Gador''s gaze lingered on the Guars, but they stayed silent.


    The sight of a flayed corpse had reminded all the Guars of their traditions.


    Betrayers had to be judged.


    In the silence, Gador chuckled and shook his head. "I never expected there''d be something I didn''t know about. Wake Wood up and ask him what he plans to do."


    "After all, he''s an old friend of ours!"


    ...


    Every established gang has its own dedicated doctor. These doctors help gang members deal with issues that can''t easily be treated in hospitals. After all, with gangs ranging from twenty or thirty members to a couple hundred, there are always people falling ill or getting injured, making having a doctor almost a requirement for a fully formed gang.


    In Ternell city, the most common ailments were colds and fevers. The poor couldn''t afford the high quality filtered water from the waterworks and had to rely on well water for their daily hydration. Well water wasn''t exactly clean but also not completely dirty.


    The real problem was that many people didn''t bother to boil the water before drinking it, especially younger men who would drink straight from the pump without a second thought.


    So, fevers and colds were rampant.


    Under the care of the private doctor, Wood''s wounds were stitched up. Fortunately, he had been unconscious the entire time, feeling none of the pain. Otherwise, it would have been impossible to say how long it would have taken to finish stitching all the wounds.


    Ternell wasn''t without anesthetics, but their side effects were significant. The main ingredient in the anesthetic came from a mushroom that induced hallucinations. This mushroom, once widespread, caused some terrifying symptoms when eaten accidentally.


    The head knight of the Inquisition, a prominent figure in the Holy Church, once declared that the "These mushrooms" was a seed sown by the devil. Its use would gradually lead people to lose their sanity and embrace the devil''s influence.


    With the loss and dangers linked to These mushrooms, the Star Empire launched a large scale "eliminate the devil" campaign, where people uprooted the mushrooms and burned them in large fires. Both religious law and imperial law were revised to include strict bans on cultivating, consuming, or selling These mushrooms, with severe punishments for violators.


    Though these mushrooms seemed to have disappeared, the Empire''s scientific academy had never stopped researching them. Experiments found that in small doses, besides causing mild hallucinations, the mushrooms had a special property: they blocked pain. In simpler terms, they contained a substance that disrupted the transmission of pain signals between neurons, rendering even a broken bone painless.


    However, the use of these anesthetics was strictly regulated. It required an application from the lead surgeon and a metrologist, followed by approval from the "Sensitive Materials Committee." Fortunately, this process took only about thirty minutes.


    Like any structure built to weather storms, there were always leaks. Occasionally, anesthetics would slip through the cracks of this strict system. Gador, for instance, had two doses stashed away for emergencies. Clearly, Wood''s injuries didn''t qualify as such an emergency.

 Chapter 81 - 81 Gador

    When Gador finally woke Wood, his body tensed, and his face turned as white as paper. The intense pain made him want to slam his head into the floor to knock himself out. After a few moments, his clenched jaw loosened slightly, though not because the pain had lessened, but because he had become somewhat accustomed to it.


    "How did you end up like this?" Gador leaned against the wall, playing with the latest windproof lighter from Aurordo, a smirk on his face as if enjoying the spectacle.


    Wood sat up, enduring the sharp pain in his body. Yet the physical pain was nothing compared to the torment in his mind. His eyebrows shot up, and through gritted teeth, he spat, "It''s all that bastard Julian''s doing. I underestimated him. Maybe I was his target all along¡­." He gasped as the movement strained his stitches, causing fresh blood to seep from the wound and bringing a new wave of pain.


    After a few deep breaths, he steadied himself and continued, "I want that bastard dead, right in front of me. I want him killed in the most brutal way possible. I don''t care about the details¡ªname your price!" Wood wisely didn''t try to leverage their friendship to get Gador to help him. He understood that the more ambitious someone was, the more they separated business from personal matters.


    This wasn''t personal, so he didn''t use that excuse. Instead, he let money do the talking¡ªthe most effective approach.


    Gador chuckled and asked, "How much do you think Julian is worth?"


    Wood had posed a difficult question to Gador, and now Gador returned the favor.


    This was a question with no easy answer. If Wood offered too little, Gador might refuse to help. And even if Wood raised the offer, it wouldn''t guarantee Gador''s assistance, as the issue was one of principle. If Gador helped Wood purely for the money, people would assume it was because of their relationship, not the cash.


    But if Gador rejected the first offer and later accepted after a price increase, people would think he only cared about money, willing to compromise his principles for the right price.


    Wood''s body tensed for a moment, then he wiped the sweat from his forehead and said in a low voice, "One no not one¡­ two hundred thousand!"


    Two hundred thousand wasn''t all of Wood''s savings. Over the years, he had earned several hundred thousand. Some of it had been squandered, and a portion had gone to grease palms. His savings in the Imperial Central Bank amounted to just over 1.1 million.


    Giving up nearly twenty percent of his wealth in one go to end Julian did sting, but he knew he had to do it. The failure today had already etched itself into the minds of certain people, who were likely sharpening their knives in the shadows, waiting to strike. He had to retaliate in the most ruthless way possible, forcing those plotting against him to think twice before daring to take him down.


    Two hundred thousand would be enough to get Gador''s full attention. What Wood needed now was time¡ªto deal with Julian as quickly as possible. Only then would he have a chance to survive in this city. Otherwise, he might end up taking his wealth, his family, and himself straight to hell.


    Gador nodded in satisfaction. "Given our friendship, helping you is the least I can do. You''ll hear good news from me soon."


    ... Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After a quick bandage job, Eirlys donned a high collared trench coat and a rounded felt hat, standing at a street corner in the Eastern District. Across the road stood a magnificent manor, its artistic landscaping exuding an air of high class sophistication, making it hard to believe this was the headquarters of a gang leader.


    It seemed more fitting for a tycoon or some influential figure rather than someone operating in the grey and black zones of society.


    The manor''s gate had been smashed, and a few men were busy fixing a bloodied car with a damaged front end. Even in its battered state, the car was clearly a luxury model, worth thousands. Its presence alone was enough to show that those who rode in it could afford to treat precious resources as mere consumables.


    It was similar to people who, despite financial constraints, splurge on expensive decorative items to prove their social standing. Whether useful or practical wasn''t the point¡ªwhat mattered was demonstrating that they could afford such luxuries.


    People often unknowingly strive to elevate their social class, even if it means tightening their belts.


    Young Eirlys wasn''t yet troubled by these societal pressures. His mind wasn''t "advanced" enough to grasp such complexities. His attention was focused entirely on the car¡ªit belonged to Wood.


    Ternell city had no traffic police, primarily due to its remote location and underdeveloped economy. Horse-drawn carriages outnumbered automobiles on the streets. Additionally, the city was so small, with a grid-patterned road system, that there was no real need to direct traffic. As a result, cars in Ternell city didn''t have license plates.


    It was said that Aurordo and other large cities had begun using license plates, but not here. There were two ways to tell who owned a car.


    First, by looking at the headlights, and second, by the insignia.


    Many "luxury" cars still used kerosene lamps to save costs¡ªthose old lamps with iron-wire frames, glass covers, and small flames inside. Wealthy car owners usually modified their vehicles upon purchase, fitting them with engine-driven gear systems that powered brighter lamps, a status symbol for every car owner.


    For those willing to spend 200 coins on headlights, it wasn''t a stretch to invest another 200 to customize the lampshades, giving them a unique design or personal significance.


    The second distinguishing feature was the insignia.


    With no license plates in Ternell, recognizing who was in a speeding car came down to identifying the headlights or insignia. Each person''s insignia was designed with symbols that reflected their characteristics or held special meaning. The mayor''s insignia was a pure silver angel with outstretched arms, while the councilman''s was a golden compass.


    Wood''s insignia was easy to spot¡ªan engraved gold stump.


    And that very car stood across the road from Eirlys. Sweat formed on his forehead¡ªpartly from the physical exhaustion of walking while injured and partly from the nervousness of being so close to the manor of Gador.


    Gador was a well known figure in Ternell city. Although he wasn''t infamous for evil deeds, people feared him. If Wood had hired Gador...


    Eirlys didn''t dare finish the thought. He instructed his companion to keep watch at the gate and hurried back to Queen Street. He had to report everything to Julian as soon as possible.

 Chapter 82 - 82 Internal Conflict

    Meanwhile, Dave, along with three others, had entered Ternell''s renowned Wheat Blossom Garden. Normally, people like Dave wouldn''t be allowed in, but they arrived in one of Wood''s car, which the gatekeepers recognized, so they were granted entry.


    The car slowed to a stop about thirty meters from Wood''s villa. Through the windshield, Dave spotted two men in coats leaning against the villa wall, smoking. Inside the yard, which was surrounded by low shrubs and iron railings, three more men were chatting and laughing. On the second floor balcony, another man was pacing, his eyes sweeping over the entire villa.


    As for the inside of the villa, Dave didn''t have the powers of the priests¡ªhe couldn''t see through walls. But judging by the scene outside, Graf wasn''t there, which puzzled Dave. Given Graf''s muscle bound, thick headed nature, he should have been there. Unless...


    Unless Graf had figured out where his family was being held and had abandoned the plan to rescue them on his own?


    Where could that be?


    Dave wasn''t sure. Who knew where Wood had hidden them? He had done his best by coming here, but the rest wasn''t his concern. A peculiar tension had been brewing within the association, one that centered around Graf Willful nature.


    Especially now, after he had gone off on his own and ruined Julian''s carefully laid plans, people''s attitudes toward him were starting to shift.


    Dave felt it might be time to discuss the matter with Julian.


    Upon returning, Dave didn''t even have the chance to bring up the subject. As soon as he pushed open Julian''s office door, he saw Graf crouched on the floor, his clothes soaked in blood, head hanging low.


    Julian stood by the window.


    Hearing the door open, Julian glanced at Dave but said nothing. Dave, treading lightly, entered and closed the door behind him, standing silently in the corner.


    "Six people now."


    Julian''s voice was quiet, as though speaking casually, but Dave could sense the volcano simmering beneath his calm tone. He shrank back, lowering his head, not daring to make a sound. He suddenly felt an unfamiliar pressure emanating from Julian¡ªa force that weighed down on him, unlike anything he''d felt before.


    "Six people have died, Mr. Graf. Do you know what it feels like to see six people you once laughed and joked with, lying neatly together?" Julian chuckled bitterly. He rapped his knuckles on the desk, then pointed at Graf. "I find it absurd!"


    The bodies of the dead had already started to stiffen, their skin stretched tight around the hastily sewn wounds, with black blood marks trailing from the stitches. Up until the moment death claimed them, they likely couldn''t believe they were leaving this world. No matter how much the world had hurt them, there was always something worth clinging to.


    Yet, they were gone¡ªall because Graf had disrupted the plan and failed to kill Wood at the critical moment.


    The worst off was the boy who had grabbed Robin from behind and stabbed him. Julian vaguely recalled his name had something to do with "De." His right temple had been shattered, the bone around it crushed and caved in. That was the result of Robin''s last burst of life, a wrench that delivered a fatal blow. It didn''t have to end this way. If only Graf had been there.


    All assumptions hinged on the perfect execution of the plan. But there are always people¡ªor circumstances¡ªthat wreck even the best laid plans.


    Graf crouched on the ground, clutching his head in silence.


    Sure, his mother and brother had been rescued, just as Julian had said. When they struck at Wood''s men, Wood hadn''t harmed Graf''s family. A lion might devour its prey to intimidate the jackals, but if those jackals dared to provoke it before it fed, no matter how hungry the lion was, it would first kill them to maintain its dominance.


    This sequence was immutable, and the younger and stronger the lion, the more it valued its reputation.


    So yes, Graf had saved two people, but six had died. And the most important target had slipped away. That was the price.


    As Julian''s accusations piled on, Graf could do nothing but endure the pain in silence, his head still buried in his hands. He knew he was at fault. There were no excuses that could absolve him, and that''s why people trusted him¡ªhe was someone who accepted responsibility.


    Most of the time, at least.


    The room was suffocatingly tense. Julian''s eyelids drooped slightly, his gaze piercing through the half-open slits like daggers at Graf. After a long moment, Julian sighed, walked back to his desk, and sat down. Crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knee, it was a simple posture, yet it conveyed something powerful. It was as if¡­he controlled everything.


    "Here''s what you''ll do, you''ll personally apologize to the families of each person who died, offer compensation, and console them. If they all forgive you, I''ll forgive you too. But that''s all it means. You''ve got enough in your Imperial Central Bank account to live the life you want." sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian shook his head gently. "You''re not like us, Graf. There are things you just can''t do. Don''t push yourself."


    Graf loosened his grip on his head, his bloodshot eyes glaring straight at Julian, filled with a murderous intensity as if he wanted to tear Julian apart. But Julian didn''t flinch. His gaze remained calm, unwavering.


    "You''re trying to push me out!" Graf slowly stood up. For a moment, his large frame seemed to exert a crushing pressure as he loomed over Julian. But Julian didn''t see himself as smaller or weaker than Graf. Maybe he wasn''t tall, but his spirit was immense, powerful, and unyielding.


    Julian shrugged, completely unsurprised, and nodded. "This isn''t about me, brother. It''s about you, understand?" He raised one hand, tapping the desk with his finger as he spoke, emphasizing each word. "You are the one with problems."


    Graf''s face twitched. "What problem do I have?"

 Chapter 83 - 83 It’s Time For You To Leave

    "Drinking," Julian said, holding up one finger. Then he raised a second. "Staying out all night. I know where you''ve been, wasting your energy on cheap women and not coming back to supervise the work you were assigned."


    Julian lifted a third finger. "And finally, you don''t have the heart to follow orders. You wrecked our plan, and it cost six lives for your two family members, who were already safe. Let me guess, Graf¡ªthe people guarding your mother and brother, there weren''t more than three of them, and they probably didn''t even have a knife on them. Am I right?"


    Julian''s bold assumption made Graf freeze. He was right. His mother and brother had been kept in a villa on the outskirts. Other than being starved for a few days, they hadn''t been treated cruelly at all. Because at that time, Wood was still¡­a gentleman. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Graf had rescued his mother and brother easily, without encountering any real trouble.


    Now, overwhelmed with guilt, Graf''s emotional state was raw. He had acted on his own, thinking his role wasn''t crucial, and it had resulted in the deaths of six young boys. His heart wasn''t bad, and now he hated himself more than ever. And now Julian was planning to push him out, adding to his confusion. Graf had built the association with his own hands and then made Julian its leader.


    He had personally recruited almost everyone in the association. The six bodies weighed even more heavily on him than on Julian because they had joined under his invitation.


    And now, Julian was telling him to enjoy a peaceful life and leave everything behind¡ªall because of his mistake.


    He hated himself. But he also hated Julian''s ruthlessness. It was just a matter of a few words, so why did it have to come to this?


    He was breathing heavily. Sitting across from him, Julian could even feel the air being pushed out of Graf''s nostrils circulating in the room. Graf stared at Julian, shaking his head, "No, I won''t leave. The association belongs to me as much as it belongs to you! I will never, ever leave!" His face was now just inches away from Julian''s, less than twenty centimeters apart.


    But those twenty centimeters were an insurmountable distance for Graf.


    Julian remained motionless, sitting as he was, without a change in his posture or expression.


    Dave, who had been standing off to the side with a cold look, now pressed the barrel of his pistol to Graf''s temple.


    Graf slowly turned his head, staring in disbelief at Dave, who was now pointing a gun at his head. His mind went blank, unable to process what was happening. He opened his mouth slightly, a gesture of shock, his eyes unfocused. After what felt like an eternity, he finally regained his senses and looked at Dave with an expression filled with disbelief and hurt.


    His voice, when he spoke, was tinged with bitterness, "Dave, you''re my friend. I was the one who introduced you to the association, and now¡­ you''re pointing a gun at me?"


    Dave and Graf were close, somewhere between friends and brothers. If they had spent a little more time together, perhaps helped each other out a couple more times, they might have crossed that line and become brothers. But from the moment Dave entered the association, their bond had always been just a bit short of that.


    Just that small missing piece¡ªif you measured it with your fingers, it would be as thin as a stack of ten-dollar bills.


    But now, at this moment, Dave was holding a gun to Graf''s head. Graf could feel the cold metal of the barrel pressing against his skin, and the faint warmth from Dave''s hand gripping the gun. The safety was off, the chamber loaded with a bullet, ready to fire at any moment.


    Just a month ago, Julian and Dave hadn''t even known each other. They could have passed each other on the street countless times without so much as a glance, let alone stopping to exchange words.


    It was Graf¡ªhe had introduced Julian to the Guars in Ternell city.


    It was Graf who had first proposed forming an organization to help Guars band together and support each other.


    Graf had played a critical role in everything, and yet now, his friend Dave was pointing a gun at him instead of at Julian. He couldn''t believe it¡ªhe didn''t want to believe it. Why was everyone turning against him at this moment?


    Dave stared at Graf with an expressionless face. He hadn''t wanted to speak, but he felt like he had to say something. He wasn''t just a regular member anymore¡ªhe was a group leader now, with some status and authority within the association. He also genuinely had things to say. If he didn''t speak now, he might never get another chance, and he knew he''d regret it if he stayed silent.


    "We are a team," Dave said, his first words cutting through the silence. Julian nodded slightly in approval. "Like the boss said, you can act as recklessly as you want when things are calm, and we''ll tolerate it. But when something big happens, and you still rely on your own personality and whims, it only harms all of us."


    "We''re a team, Graf, but you can''t fit into this team, and that''s why we have six brothers lying here dead."


    "And next time? How many more will there be? Five? Ten? Will it take me and the boss lying there before you finally understand?"


    Dave cracked a bitter smile. "Graf, we''re friends, and I know you. You can be a good man with a little bit of edge, but you can''t be a bad man. This isn''t your game, and it''s time for you to leave."


    Graf was, as Dave had said, a good man with a bit of roughness around the edges. He could be unreasonable at times, but he was also passionate and helpful¡ªmostly the latter. Anyone from the Guars community, no matter their age or gender, could come to him for help, and he would do his best to assist them.

 Chapter 84 - 84 What Exactly Does The Upper Class Offer

    It was that trait that had once landed him in jail for helping someone. And it was that same quality that had moved a tycoon to pay for his release.


    He was trusted, he had a good heart¡ªand because of that, he wasn''t cut out to be a villain or commit evil deeds.


    Sure, he had killed for others, and he had rushed into dangerous situations before, but he had never been able to fully adapt to the violent world he was now part of. Instead of struggling painfully in this environment, it was better for him to return to a life where he could continue being that rough edged good man, rather than trying to be something he wasn''t.


    Graf wanted to argue, to say that he had been prepared for this all along, but no matter how hard he tried, the words wouldn''t come out.


    He couldn''t say it, because deep down, even if he thought he was ready, it was only his belief¡ªnot the truth.


    "Do you mean¡­" Graf''s voice was raspy as it scraped its way out of his throat, filled with a rough texture of emotion, "Do you mean I had to abandon my family to be truly prepared?"


    At that moment, Julian stepped in, "You''ve got it wrong, Graf." He lit a cigarette and gestured for Dave to lower the gun. Dave complied, stepping aside and leaning against the wall. Julian flicked his lighter a few times before the flame caught, igniting the cigarette. After taking a deep drag and exhaling slowly, he continued, "You didn''t abandon any family.


    From the day we all joined the association, we became family. Every one of us."


    Those words sent a shiver through Dave, and his gaze toward Graf grew more conflicted. Julian was right¡ªthe brothers and sisters in the association were all family. But in Graf''s eyes, his family was his mother and brother, not those six dead boys lying on the ground, who couldn''t even take another breath.


    Graf was momentarily stunned. "That''s not what I meant, I¡ª"


    Julian suddenly stood up. Even though he was shorter than Graf, in that moment, to Dave, it felt as if Julian towered over him¡ªso tall that he had to look up to see him.


    Whatever Graf had been about to say died in his throat. His lips moved, but no sound came out.


    With the cigarette still in his mouth, Julian walked around the desk and stood in front of Graf. His expression softened, and he smiled slightly. Then, to Graf''s surprise, he opened his arms and embraced him tightly, gently patting his back. "It''s time to go home. Go live the life you''ve always wanted. Even if you leave today, we''ll still be your friends, your brothers.


    "Once family, always family."


    Suddenly, Graf lowered his head, eyes closed tight. His eyes burned, and for some reason, he felt an overwhelming urge to cry. The last time he had felt this way was when his pet cat had been kicked to death by a passing horse. He didn''t think of himself as a weak person, but in this moment, he felt a vulnerability that didn''t seem right for him.


    He shook his shoulders, breaking free from Julian''s embrace, then turned and walked out the door.


    As Julian watched the empty doorway, he shook his head and returned to the window.


    Today, they had said goodbye to six brothers¡­and Graf. Who would they say goodbye to tomorrow?


    Through the glass, Julian watched Graf wiping his face as he marched away into the distance, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth.


    This path is too dangerous for a fool like you. Stay out of the way.


    When Eirlys entered the office, his clothes had a few patches of red seeping through. He had run all the way back, leaving his bicycle with his companions so they could use it to return quickly in case of any emergencies. He was slightly out of breath, his face pale, and as he pushed open the door, he felt the heavy atmosphere in the room.


    But he quickly shifted his focus to the message he had to deliver.


    "Wood¡­ went to see Gador!"


    That single sentence was enough to make Dave, who had been staring at the floor with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, look up. It also made Julian, who had been gazing out the window at the pedestrians and cars, turn around.


    Julian wasn''t as familiar with Ternell city as the other members of the association. His knowledge of the city was still superficial. But even so, he had heard the name Gador and knew some of his reputation.


    When people start praising a gang leader, it means that leader and his gang are about to undergo a transformation in terms of status and identity.


    Either they rise or they fall.


    Gador clearly belonged to the former category. Most of his businesses were now legitimate, though some of them likely still violated imperial or religious law. However, for him, these violations were minor. Once he fully legitimized his operations, he would cross a threshold that every gang leader in Ternell dreamt of crossing¡ªjoining the upper class.


    Everyone aspired to be part of the upper class, but what exactly did the upper class offer?


    Nothing, really.


    Even in the upper class, people still had to eat, drink, and earn money. They were still restrained by rules. Yet, everyone wanted to be part of it because it represented a shift in identity, in the people you associated with, and in the things you were exposed to. If you couldn''t cross that line, you would forever remain part of the lower class, constantly exploited and oppressed.


    The upper class was simply a platform, a ladder to even higher levels. Climbing this ladder often required shedding some burdens, but almost everyone was willing to do so for the chance to ascend.


    Gador was one such figure who had made a name for himself in Ternell city. Stories of his kindness, ruthlessness, integrity, and hypocrisy were widespread.


    sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 85 - 85 Seeking A Higher Level Figure

    He was also the leader of Ternell''s largest gang, with hundreds of men under his command¡ªfar more than Wood, who had already washed his hands of the gang life.


    This was the biggest crisis Julian had ever faced. If he couldn''t find a way through it, his only option would be to flee.


    Yes, Gador was actively trying to go legitimate, but that didn''t mean he wouldn''t take action if necessary. What might be a minor incident for Gador could be a catastrophic blow for Julian.


    Julian rubbed his face and slapped his cheeks, turning to Dave. "Is there any chance we can take him out?"


    Dave''s face was grim as he shook his head. "Gador''s rise is practically a legend. He understands the rules very well, and a lot of powerful people like him because of that. Some of those big shots even rely on him to do things they can''t do themselves.


    "He''s also incredibly cautious. Whether at home or out in public, he always has plenty of men around him. In the past nine years, there have been at least thirty attempts on his life, and none of them succeeded. In fact, they only made him more careful."


    Julian nodded in agreement. That made sense. No matter how clean Gador''s hands were now, he had risen to power by stepping over the blood and bones of others. The number of people who hated him was beyond counting, and he would have to be extremely vigilant to protect himself. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    So, how could Julian get out of this mess? Killing Gador was out of the question, but perhaps he could at least convince him to stay neutral.


    Julian fell into deep thought. Seeing this, Dave and Eirlys quietly left the office, closing the door behind them.


    About twenty minutes later, the office door swung open again. Julian walked out, his expression calm but with a confident gleam in his eyes. Dave and Eirlys immediately stepped forward, looking at him expectantly.


    "I''ve got a plan," Julian said, nodding firmly.


    Julian''s plan was actually quite simple¡ªsatisfy Gador''s "conditions."


    If Gador was willing to help Wood without expecting anything in return, why hadn''t he intervened earlier? Julian suspected that the relationship between Wood and Gador wasn''t as solid as he had initially thought. Wood must have offered something to convince Gador to step in on his behalf.


    So, in reverse, if Gador could be swayed by something Wood offered, couldn''t he be swayed to change his stance by something else?


    Julian believed it was possible. From what little he knew about Gador, the man was ambitious and disciplined. His goal was to become one of the tycoons of Ternell, a rule-maker¡­ or at the very least, a rule-enforcer.


    What could be more important to Gador than a quicker path to the upper class, allowing him to cross that threshold that so many others had failed to cross?


    Nothing.


    Satisfy his "conditions," watch him transform, and then wait for him to make a mistake at which point Julian would deliver the final blow.


    But first, Julian needed to meet with a few key people those who could influence Gador''s decisions.


    He instructed Eirlys to keep an eye on Gador and ordered all the boys from the association to return to their homes. Until this matter was resolved, none of them should show their faces in public. Julian didn''t want Gador taking his frustration out on any of them while they were still vulnerable.


    When Julian found Kevin, he was packing his bags.


    Not long ago, the city court had sent notice that an additional hearing would be held in three days. Apparently, the state court of Canless had pressured the local court to expedite the case, which had drawn nationwide attention, in order to minimize any further negative impact.


    As a result, the Ternell city court had moved the final trial from next weekend to Tuesday, just three days away.


    Upon hearing the news, Kevin had started packing his bags. He had already booked a steam train ticket to the capital and was ready to leave as soon as the final verdict was delivered, bringing his victory with him.


    The capital was where Kevin''s true stage awaited where he could fully showcase his talents!


    Julian stood outside the door, raised his hand, and knocked. The dull sound startled Kevin, who was packing his luggage. He straightened up, stretching his back and shaking his arms a few times before walking over to greet Julian into the room.


    Julian carefully stepped over the piles of documents, glancing at the scattered papers and some luggage on the floor, then flashed a bright smile. "Congratulations, Kevin, you''ve accomplished what you set out to do. That''s impressive!"


    Kevin happily accepted the compliment, patting Julian on the arm. He turned to fetch a cup of coffee and placed it on the corner of the table. "I just brewed it, the temperature should be just right. You know I don''t drink alcohol, so¡­" He shrugged. "What brings you here? If I''m not mistaken, those two big shots should be able to handle most of the issues in Ternell city, right?"


    Julian picked up the saucer, delicately holding the tiny cup handle with one hand, and brought the coffee to his nose for a sniff before taking a small sip. He pretended to swallow the coffee nonchalantly but quickly set the cup back down, unable to enjoy the strange taste. "Their influence isn''t enough.


    I want to establish a connection with higher level figures, like the mayor or the council members."


    Kevin curiously looked Julian up and down, blurting out, "What kind of trouble have you gotten into? Or have you inflated your ego so much that you think an unknown bootlegger like yourself can directly converse with someone at the mayor''s level?"


    "Sorry, I''m not mocking you, just stating the facts. They are unlikely to meet with you, and even if they do, they won''t form any friendship with you!"

 Chapter 86 - 86 Delier

    Kevin wasn''t intentionally belittling Julian; it was just the reality. To such high-level figures, Julian was a nobody. Regardless of his achievements, until he became a tycoon in this city, he was nowhere near that level. Let alone establishing a relationship with giants like the mayor or council members.


    Julian didn''t shy away from the issue, revealing the truth directly. "Wood probably paid a price and brought Gador to deal with me. You know, while I have some people working for me, I''m far from matching someone like Gador, who has been dominating East City for so many years. I need someone at that level of power to exert pressure on Gador and force him to change his plans."


    Kevin put down the documents and luggage he was sorting and sat down across from Julian with an exaggerated, amused expression. "My God, you really aren''t afraid of death. Gador rarely engages in killing anymore; he''s been busy cleaning up his image."


    After teasing Julian, Kevin grew serious, thinking for a moment before speaking. "I can help you get in touch with the mayor''s¡­ wife. But as for how to leverage that to get to the mayor, I can''t help. You''ll have to figure that out yourself." S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian didn''t press Kevin to stay. He had discussed with Kevin earlier, hoping Kevin would stay and help, but Kevin had refused. His ambitions lay in the tempting allure of the big city, not this small town. Money alone wouldn''t convince Kevin to stay. Though Julian was disappointed, there was nothing he could do to keep this brilliant rising star, smart enough to alter legal outcomes, from leaving.


    The two had made what seemed like a childish promise: if one day Julian entered the heart of the Empire as a victor, Kevin would immediately quit all his jobs to serve him. Of course, Julian would have to offer a salary befitting his status.


    "The mayor''s wife is named Vivian, a classic Ordinian high-society woman. She has impeccable taste and style. Her favorite activities are organizing flower arrangements or tea parties with women of similar status."


    "Vivian was the key reason the mayor emerged from seven candidates to become the mayor of Ternell city. When it comes to her requests and suggestions, the mayor often chooses to support and approve them."


    "If you can win over that woman, any trouble you have will no longer be trouble!"


    Kevin rummaged through his cardholder for a while before pulling out a card and handing it to Julian. "This is the card of the curator of Delier Art Museum. Say Kevin referred you, and he''ll meet with you. As for the rest, I can''t do much more to help, as you know!"


    Julian accepted the card with sincere thanks, knowing that his relationship with Kevin ultimately hinged on the thousand dollars and the favor of helping Kevin take down Camille. The two could be considered friends, discussing some "deeper" topics, but their friendship hadn''t reached a point where Kevin would use his connections to solve Julian''s problems.


    Many say that big figures lack humanity, but it''s not that they lack compassion; rather, those saying this aren''t qualified enough for these big figures to show compassion. Until Julian proved himself equal to Kevin in status and power, deepening their friendship was just wishful thinking.


    After leaving Kevin''s place, Julian immediately headed to Delier Art Museum on 8th Street, holding the card.


    Although Ternell is a small city, it has all the essentials because, no matter how small, a city still has its big figures. How do you distinguish yourself from those who emit the stench of the ordinary? High art is clearly the simplest and most direct way! To cater to the city''s elites and legally extract money from their pockets, Delier Art Museum was born.


    Every Monday and Friday, the mayor''s wife, Vivian, hosts a salon party for elite women, usually centered around flower arranging or other trendy activities.


    This was Julian''s only chance!


    The curator of the Delier Art Museum, as his name suggests, was Delier himself¡ªa man with an unmistakable Ordinian arrogance. Even though he exuded a certain artistic aura, it couldn''t hide the disdain in his eyes when he looked at Julian.


    It was the kind of contempt a gentleman wearing polished boots in a grand hall might feel, looking down at a muddy-footed country boy leaving dirty footprints on the pristine floor.


    Delier was a very "artistic" man. He wore a shiny purple, androgynous suit with silver threads outlining the edges of the white collar¡ªprobably pure silver, judging by the way it gleamed under the light.


    His white crocodile-skin shoes set him apart from the rest; people generally preferred boots over shoes because, in a society where roads were still problematic, shoes made it far too easy for dirt to sneak in and soil one''s socks.


    His hair was slicked back like Wood''s, but it appeared softer, not stiff. Seven parts of his hair curled toward the right, while the remaining three parts were brushed back. His pale, thin face was even adorned with light makeup. If it weren''t for the "Mr." at the end of his name on the business card, Julian would have thought Delier was a rather masculine woman.


    Delier took Julian''s card and glanced at it. Like many artistic types, Delier''s business card had an artistic flair. His name was handwritten, and Julian had to consult someone just to recognize the flourished strokes as letters. Delier slipped the card into his pocket, crossing one arm over his chest while the other rested on it, holding a thin white cigarette between two fingers.


    "So, you''re friends with that scoundrel Kevin? Then you must be no good either," Delier said in a high-pitched voice, this time making no effort to hide the hint of revulsion in his gaze, as if Julian were not a person but a pile of trash. Delier and Kevin didn''t have the smoothest relationship. In fact, they had met when someone hired Kevin to sue the Delier Art Museum.


    It was during that case, which was settled out of court for a thousand dollars after Kevin''s persuasion, that the two got acquainted.

 Chapter 87 - 87 A Brutal Approach

    Julian shrugged, indifferent to Delier''s sarcastic words. "He''s the devil, and we''re all friends with the devil!" His meaning was clear: if Kevin truly was a bad guy, then, by Delier''s logic, everyone associated with Kevin must also be bad. Therefore, Delier himself must be no better.


    Delier scoffed, turning his head to exhale a cloud of smoke, his gaze slanted at Julian. "My time is limited. State your business."


    At that moment, Julian noticed that Delier had even painted his nails¡ªpurple, no less. It seemed he was fond of the color. Julian refocused and lowered his voice. "I think we should discuss this in your office. I''ll offer you a price that''ll satisfy you."


    Delier''s eyes brightened slightly, hesitating for a moment before nodding. Clearly, money spoke louder than his distaste for what he disliked.


    The two entered Delier''s office, one behind the other. It was minimalist, yet undeniably artistic. Unlike the leather sofas used by other important figures, his sofas were fabric-covered, a style just starting to trend in the Empire. Many elites considered fabric sofas to be for the poor, so it hadn''t caught on widely.


    After all, if a trend wasn''t embraced by the mainstream, it wasn''t a trend; it was just alternative.


    Delier gracefully lowered himself into his round swivel chair, He sank into it, crossing his legs, took one last drag of his cigarette.


    "So, what do you want from me, and what are you willing to pay?"


    Direct¡ªJulian liked that. He walked to the desk, sat in a crooked wooden chair, and held up three fingers. "Get me in touch with Vivian as soon as possible, and I''ll pay you three thousand dollars."


    Three thousand dollars was no small amount. Even though Delier Art Museum was the only one in Ternell and catered to the town''s elite women, its monthly income was only about three to five hundred dollars¡ªsometimes even less. Three thousand was enough to cover half a year''s income, and Delier was tempted, but he quickly refused.


    "Sorry, I can''t help you. You can leave now," he said reluctantly, the words clearly paining him. That was three thousand dollars¡ªenough for a long stretch of indulgence. Watching that money slip away from his grasp nearly made his heart stop.


    Julian pressed on. "Five thousand dollars."


    Delier inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. His trembling eyelashes revealed the intense inner conflict he was going through, but soon he refused again.


    It wasn''t that Delier didn''t want the money; it was that the target of the deal was too tricky. The mayor''s wife, Vivian, wielded considerable influence in the social circles of the elite women. Not only was she the honorary president of the Star Empire Women''s Protection Association, but she was also the daughter of a former governor. Without knowing Julian''s intentions, Delier dared not reach out.


    If something went wrong, it wouldn''t just be Ternell that he''d have to leave; all of Star Empire, and perhaps even the entire South, would be off-limits to him!


    It wasn''t worth ruining his business for a sum of money, no matter how large.


    Julian sighed. "It''s a shame we couldn''t come to an agreement." He stood up and, under Delier''s watchful gaze, walked around the desk. Delier, sensing something amiss, opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat, unable to come out.


    Julian grabbed Delier by the neck with one hand and clenched his other hand into a fist, smashing it into Delier''s meticulously groomed face. The punch was full of strength. Although a sixteen or seventeen year old boy''s power and physique were far from that of an adult, given Delier''s frail frame, the damage from the punch was already significant.


    Blood immediately flowed from Delier''s swollen, painful nose, the hot metallic taste spreading along his lips. He stared at Julian in terror, struggling desperately.


    Without hesitation, Julian landed another punch, then another, and another!


    The only sounds in the office were the dull thuds of the punches, "thud," "thud," "thud."


    After delivering seven or eight punches, Delier''s eyes revealed a mix of pleading and fear. He stopped struggling, seemingly conceding. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian released his grip on Delier''s neck and shook his arm; after all, his fists hurt too. There wasn''t much flesh on Delier''s face, and the punches landed mostly on his cheekbones, making his own hands ache as well.


    Freed, Delier gasped for air, curling his entire body up like an egg, staring in terror at this rude, unreasonable, savage young man.


    "You can''t treat me like this!" Delier''s voice was slightly sharp, and the terrified, contorted expression on his face made any trace of his artistic flair disappear instantly.


    Julian raised an eyebrow and casually picked up an ivory carved miniature totem pole from Delier''s desk. With a forceful swing, he smashed it onto Delier''s arm. The sharp sound made both of them realize that between the arm and the ivory, one of them must have broken. Of course, it wasn''t the ivory; it was Delier''s arm.


    Delier''s scream barely lasted a second before Julian raised the ivory high again, abruptly cutting off the scream as if it were a high pitched note interrupted.


    "Mr. Delier, can we have a proper conversation now?" Julian asked, looking down at Delier, who was curled up, clutching his arm and sobbing as if he had been violated. His eyes were dangerous and fierce.


    Delier nodded with his lips tightly pressed together, tears and blood from his nose mixing and dripping onto the collar of his favorite clothes, forming alarming red stains.


    "Good, that''s very good!" Julian casually placed the ivory sculpture back where it was, adjusting it slightly to its original position. He straightened his clothes and appearance, then sat on the desk. "So now, can you tell me how I can quickly get in touch with Mrs. Vivian?" he asked, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket.


    After lighting it and taking a drag, he flicked the ash directly onto Delier.

 Chapter 88 - 88 High Society Art Is Really Dirty

    Trembling, Delier responded in a quivering voice, "Mrs. Vivian has a passionate pursuit of all things beautiful..." He paused, unsure whether to speak the truth. Glancing nervously at Julian, whose eyes had turned fierce again, he shivered and decided to confess everything. His only hope now was that Julian had no serious intentions toward Mrs. Vivian; otherwise, his fate would be grim.


    "Mrs. Vivian has a peculiar preference... She likes young boys, not too young, around thirteen or fourteen years old, who are either handsome or pretty," Delier continued. Since he had already started speaking, he figured he might as well spill everything. After all, saying half the truth would lead to his death, and saying everything would lead to the same.


    He might as well try to survive the present and think about the future later.


    "Actually, many of the ladies enjoy these indulgences," Delier continued. "Their husbands often keep mistresses outside, and even if they come home, they rarely do anything intimate. I''m not sure if it''s out of revenge or some inherent habit among women, but quite a few ladies share this hobby."


    "I''ve told you everything. Will you let me go now?" sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He glanced around. This place, which was supposed to be an art gallery full of artistic elegance, was secretly involved in such filthy business. The curator of this gallery was, astonishingly, a peculiar kind of pimp!


    But when he thought about it from a different perspective, it actually made sense. These high status ladies, deprived of attention and affection for long periods, were bound to harbor resentment. Some of them could endure it, but others simply couldn''t, especially women like Mrs. Vivian, who had her own influence and didn''t care about what her man thought or did.


    He had heard Kevin mention before that the mayor¡ªor was it a councilman?¡ªhad kept a restaurant owner as a mistress. He never expected to stumble upon this kind of sordid business here.


    What Julian didn''t know was that Delier hadn''t revealed the full truth. The so called flower arranging and tea parties were nothing more than wild orgies for these ladies, a hormonal frenzy set in the midst of this artistic sanctuary.


    As for the boys Delier scouted, they weren''t exactly victims. Besides receiving some special favors, they also made a considerable amount of money.


    Each party got what they wanted.


    But this particular hobby of Mrs. Vivian''s made Julian scratch his head. If she had liked money, he could have provided it. If she liked certain things, he could have figured out a way to get them. But she was into young boys? What was he supposed to do, offer himself?


    In a split second, Julian thought of someone¡ªDave.


    That pretty boy, whose looks were almost feminine, would definitely be popular among these ladies. And for Dave, it wouldn''t even be a disadvantage.


    With that thought, Julian shifted from his seat on the desk. He approached the egg-shaped chair, where Delier still sat. Delier, thinking Julian was about to hit him again, quickly shielded his head, his body trembling. After a moment of silence, when no blows came, Delier hesitantly lowered his arms and chuckled nervously.


    Julian, with a calm demeanor, extended his hand and straightened Delier''s collar, even brushing off the ash that had fallen on him. "Look, I''ve learned some secrets I probably shouldn''t know. If you don''t want people to find you floating in the Agate River one day, you''d better keep your mouth shut."


    Delier nodded blankly.


    "I remember. Two days from now, Mrs. Vivian will be coming for art appreciation!"


    Satisfied, Julian nodded back. He pulled out a roll of ten-dollar bills from his pocket, casually counted ten of them, and tucked them into his pocket. The rest he threw toward Delier.


    The unbound bills turned into a flurry of paper, spinning and swirling as they slowly floated down.


    As Julian walked away, Delier, staring at the shower of bills, felt like he''d just been humiliated and then patted on the back.


    When Julian returned to the temporary hideout, Dave immediately approached him. He knew that Julian had gone out to deal with the threat posed by Gador, and he was nervous. The current state of their organization, the Brotherhood, was far weaker in both size and power compared to Gador.


    Gador was different from Wood. Wood had "cleaned up" his image. This so-called cleaning up wasn''t just about erasing past misdeeds from public knowledge; it also involved cutting away any remnants of unsavory activities, like his hired thugs, weapons, and illegal operations. He was like a tiger whose claws and teeth had been removed, locked inside a cage with a label outside that read "Tycoon."


    On the surface, Wood seemed incredibly imposing¡ªeveryone knew him as the tycoon Wood. But the reality of his situation was something only he fully understood. To maintain his dignity and status, he could no longer do anything that would tarnish his reputation.


    He couldn''t keep an army of thugs, couldn''t engage in illegal business ventures, and couldn''t resort to violence at the slightest provocation like before. No matter what issue arose, he had to abide by the rules of the game.


    So when it came to dealing with Wood, Julian had no hesitation.


    He was up against a tiger that had forgotten how to tear apart its prey with claws and teeth. He may have once been a dominant figure in the jungle, but now, Wood was nothing more than a gentleman, bound by the rules set by the powerful, incapable of putting up a real fight.


    Gador, on the other hand, wasn''t yet constrained by these rules. While he followed them, he hadn''t risen to the ranks of high society just yet. He was merely a dirty gang leader. Until he crossed that threshold, whatever he did was acceptable in the eyes of the public. After all, wasn''t he just a gang leader acting according to his role?

 Chapter 89 - 89 You Have To Make Sacrifices

    This was why dealing with Gador seemed more troublesome for both Julian and Dave. A single mistake, and the newly formed Fellowship might have to leave Ternell and start over in another city, fighting to survive. If they could avoid it, who would want to be driven away and forced into exile?


    If possible, wouldn''t everyone prefer to leave with glory and move to a bigger stage to pursue their ambitions.


    "So, any solutions?" Dave asked as he handed Julian an open bottle of fruit wine. Julian waved it off; he didn''t drink alcohol unless it was necessary.


    After hanging his coat on the rack, Julian sat heavily on a sagging sofa in the dimly lit room, which had yellowed walls and dried water stains on the ceiling. The room had been temporarily rented through a third party. As he sat, Julian felt the wooden frame of the sofa press against him, nearly causing him to wince in pain.


    He stood up, kicked the sofa in frustration, then paced a few steps before turning to look at the anxious Dave.


    "There''s a way to get close to the mayor''s wife, Mrs. Vivian. From what I''ve gathered, the mayor keeps a mistress outside, but he still respects his wife''s opinion. This gives us an opportunity. If Mrs. Vivian says a few words, it will be more effective than us doing anything out there.


    It is not easy to get close to Mrs. Vivian, and it may require you to make sacrifices..."


    Before Julian could finish, Dave raised his hand to stop him. He took a swig from the wine bottle and took a deep drag of his half smoked cigarette, his eyes slightly reddened as he stared at Julian. "I don''t know where my father is¡ªmaybe he died on the battlefield, or maybe he faked his death and ran off. My mother raised us, her children, on her own. It hasn''t been easy for her all these years..."


    "Tell them I love them."


    "Now tell me, what do you need me to do? Do I need to assassinate someone, or do something else?"


    Julian stared at the overly emotional Dave for a moment, then burst into laughter, so much so that his stomach began to hurt. Dave, confused and uncertain whether he had said something wrong, stared blankly at Julian.


    It took Julian a while to stop laughing, but when he saw the silly expression on Dave''s face, he couldn''t help but chuckle again.


    "Actually... it''s not what you think!" Julian explained, realizing he had spoken too quickly earlier. In their language, the word "sacrifice" and "death" could often be confused without proper context. Dave had thought he''d have to give his life to win over Mrs. Vivian.


    Once Julian finished explaining, Dave laughed as well, rolling his eyes after a moment, and took another swig from the bottle. "You scared me! I thought I was headed to meet the Almighty. Next time, could you please choose your words more carefully?"


    Julian shrugged. "My bad, I admit my mistake. But... you''ll still need to ''sacrifice'' a bit."


    "I feel much better now!" Dave said, rubbing his face. "At least it doesn''t involve dying."


    Julian then laid out the plan, and Dave''s face turned pale. He realized that the "sacrifice" really was a sacrifice¡ªhe''d have to charm a forty something year old woman. His facial muscles stiffened. "Can''t we... find someone else?"


    Julian asked, "Do you really think anyone among us is more handsome or charming than you?" He spread his hands, answering his own question, "Nope. So, in the end, I have no choice but to give you this important mission. Plus, it''s not such a bad deal. You get to enjoy a little adventure with a high society lady, no consequences. Don''t you find it exciting? Just imagine...


    you and the mayor could become relative. Think about how impressive that sounds."


    "If you think that saying all this will make me feel any better, your plan has failed!" Dave lit another cigarette, took a deep drag, and brooded. Julian didn''t interrupt his thoughts. After a moment, Dave suddenly flicked the cigarette to the ground and said, "Fine, I agree. Damn it, I hate you and your plan, but I''ve agreed!"


    ... sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Mrs. Vivian began preparing herself early in the morning, standing in front of the mirror as she tried on one outfit after another. Her servants held up over thirty new dresses for her to choose from, their eyes flickering with envy and jealousy.


    People, in the end, are not the same.


    All women, yet some could afford to choose from countless outfits, perhaps never even wearing them, before packing them away in storage as if they were never bought. Others, however, had to hold clothes that might take them years to afford and could hardly ever dream of wearing them, even once.


    So when it comes to people, it''s not about equality. The only thing equal is the chance of being born, not the status, wealth, or identity one is born into.


    "This will do. I''ll go with this one," Mrs. Vivian finally declared, satisfied with how she looked in the mirror. Though she was already forty one years old, she took excellent care of herself. The privileged life she led allowed her to use things most people couldn''t even imagine to preserve her youth.


    At first glance, she appeared to be in her early thirties, with smooth, firm skin that showed no sign of aging. Her mature charm, combined with a floral dress, made her look young enough that it wouldn''t be hard to believe if someone guessed she was even younger.


    Taking a cream colored sun hat adorned with red trimmings from one of the servants, she grabbed a small designer purse crafted by a master artisan and stepped out. She didn''t need to inform anyone where she was going; her husband was either at city hall handling his many responsibilities or indulging himself in the bed of some other woman. But she didn''t care about that.

 Chapter 90 - 90 I Got Hit By A Pig

    Her father had been a governor¡ªa former governor. Growing up in such a prestigious family, she had access to things others couldn''t even dream of, but she had also seen things they could never imagine. Like her father, for instance. Many believed his frail health in old age was the result of war and years of political battles.


    He had collapsed one night, suddenly unable to walk, and when the doctors arrived, they confirmed he would never stand or walk independently again.


    She knew, however, that the real reason was his reckless behavior with younger women, even into his sixties. He had lived indulgently and suffered the consequences. Because of this, she turned a blind eye to such matters, having grown used to them, perhaps even accepting them.


    Her mayor husband had his own entertainment, and she had hers¡ªlike visiting Delier''s Art Gallery.


    Just as many old men enjoyed the company of younger women, Mrs. Vivian liked young boys, even those who could still be considered adolescents. She enjoyed their youthful energy and innocence, and while this might be considered morally questionable, it didn''t cross any legal boundaries.


    Delier had sent word that he had a special "gift" for her, which made her quite happy. She felt her investments in these "art pieces" over the years had been worth it. As she left her estate and approached the car sent to pick her up, she froze for a moment when she saw the driver.


    Standing beside the car was a strikingly handsome young man in a black and red checkered coat, wearing a gray newsboy cap. Despite his simple, old-fashioned attire, his near-perfect appearance was impossible to conceal.


    "What''s your name? I''ve never seen you before," Mrs. Vivian asked, placing her hand on his as she eased herself into the backseat of the car. Her eyes, full of a burning intensity, locked onto the boy''s blue ones.


    The young driver removed his cap, revealing his well groomed hair. Though it wasn''t slick with oil, it was clean and soft. Mrs. Vivian could even smell the unique, masculine scent wafting from him¡ªa scent that could be described as either "well-worn" or the fresh fragrance of a young man just reaching maturity.


    Blushing slightly under Mrs. Vivian''s predatory gaze, Dave silently cursed Julian several times in his heart before responding in a low voice, "My name is Jon, madam."


    "Jon?" Mrs. Vivian repeated, savoring the sound of his name, then flashed the sweetest smile she had ever mustered. "Are you an Ordinian? But your hair color... I''m sorry, I''m being too forward."


    Dave shrugged, smiling with the youthful energy she seemed to crave. "No worries. I''m mixed. A lot of people say that. I''m used to it."


    Still lightly brushing Dave''s taut and smooth skin on the back of his hand with her fingertips, Mrs. Vivian chuckled gleefully. "Alright then, my apologies. So, are you my driver for today?"


    "Yes, ma''am. The previous driver fell ill, and I''m his nephew, here to fill in," Dave said as he gently nudged her further into the car, eager to escape the awkwardness of being flirted with by an older woman in public.


    Mrs. Vivian finally released his hand, chuckling with a hint of regret, but she quickly perked up. She now knew what Delier''s "special gift" was. A boy like this, she thought, could keep her entertained for at least three years, as long as his appearance didn''t change too much as he matured.


    Feeling generous, she decided she''d invest in a few more "art pieces" as a reward for Delier''s thoughtful gesture.


    After closing the door, Dave shuddered slightly before climbing into the driver''s seat, driving the car toward Delier''s Art Gallery.


    The entire ride, Mrs. Vivian remained completely silent, a far cry from her previous impatient demeanor. But the quieter she was, the more nervous Dave became. His heart raced as he silently prayed to the Almighty for his "fate."


    It was a forty-minute drive to Delier''s estate. After what felt like an eternity, the car finally stopped in front of the gallery.


    Dave circled around to open the door for Mrs. Vivian and helped her out. Delier, who had been waiting outside, immediately rushed over.


    "What happened to your face?" Mrs. Vivian asked, noticing Delier''s bruised and swollen face, her expression full of curiosity.


    Delier paused for a moment before laughing awkwardly, "I got hit by a pig!" Dave gave him a side glance, and Delier quickly corrected himself. "Actually, I was robbed. Those brutes were really rough and uncivilized."


    Mrs. Vivian smiled as she sized him up. "I''ll communicate with Director Pronto. Do you still remember what those people looked like yesterday?" Mrs. Vivian felt reassured by Delier. She knew that when someone learned things beyond their social standing, they either submitted fully or had no choice but to run for their lives.


    She wasn''t afraid of Delier revealing certain things. The fact that she dared to do such things meant that exposing them wouldn''t affect her much. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Furthermore, Delier had been diligently scouting for people for her and other noble ladies, so Mrs. Vivian had grown more attentive. This time it was just a robbery, but what if they had drawn a knife or harmed him in some way? What would they do next time?


    Delier eagerly nodded and said, "I sketched their portraits. I''ll never forget those faces. The money doesn''t matter, but they shouldn''t have damaged my handsome face!"


    Mrs. Vivian only chuckled at his words. Handsome?


    "I am very satisfied with the big gift you gave me. When I leave, hand over the portraits, and I''ll take care of it." As she spoke, she lightly brushed off the nonexistent dust from Delier''s shoulder. "You''ve done so much for me. I can''t let you suffer, right? Sometimes these things can trip us up."


    Dave hesitated slightly before supporting Mrs. Vivian as they entered Delier''s art gallery.


    Watching the two disappear down the corridor toward the viewing room, Delier suddenly shivered.

 Chapter 91 - 91 No human Could Possibly Look Like That

    Last night, someone just like him was indeed robbed. Anyone seeing someone standing under the streetlight at the alleyway''s entrance, counting a thick wad of cash, would be tempted by the thought, "How great it would be if that money were mine." Some people, constrained by their moral compass and the law''s threat, would keep such thoughts to themselves and pass by quietly.


    But others, accustomed to ignoring the law''s deterrents, would turn those thoughts into reality.


    Thus, a stylish individual in a purple unisex suit was dragged into the alley by several thugs, who gave him a not so friendly "greeting" and took the money that didn''t belong to them.


    For these people, this was probably a trivial matter. They had already memorized the names of those they couldn''t offend, people they''d never forget for the rest of their lives. Obviously, the guy counting cash wasn''t one of those people, so they felt no pressure.


    The few hundred dollars in cash would allow them to live comfortably in Ternell City for at least a month. However, they didn''t realize their actions would have consequences for their boss''s boss. Their social standing was too low to fully grasp the ramifications, so they couldn''t be completely blamed.


    At first, Julian''s plan was to use Mrs. Vivian to make a connection with the mayor, but he quickly realized how wrong that was¡ªespecially using Mrs. Vivian. Their social status and needs were far beyond anything Julian could offer.


    Though Mrs. Vivian liked to have friendly interactions with younger men, Julian believed that if asked to do anything beyond that, she would refuse. The reason was simple: she was merely a "consumer." Consumers never concern themselves with the struggles of the manufacturers behind the products they use.


    All they cared about was whether they were satisfied with the product; everything else was irrelevant to them.


    So Julian changed his plan. If he couldn''t push Gador to cross that threshold and turn from a gang leader into a tycoon of Ternell City, then he would send him to hell instead! Julian shared this idea with Dave, who agreed but had a question.


    Since the plan had changed, did that mean he wouldn''t have to act anymore?


    Julian cruelly informed him of the harsh truth: because the plan had changed, Dave would not only need to "sacrifice" himself, but he would have to sacrifice with great effort. Only by doing this and completely satisfying Mrs. Vivian with Delier''s "gift" would she feel a "guilt" over Delier''s injury. This emotion would drive her to act more effectively than money or anything else.


    Without needing anyone to remind her, Mrs. Vivian would take action on her own, as long as she remained happy.


    Standing in the alley across from Delier''s art gallery, Julian saw the melancholy in Dave''s retreating figure and suppressed a laugh, rubbing his face. Whether the plan would succeed depended on how well Dave performed.


    A person who truly sacrifices will always give their best, right?


    As evening approached, Julian shook off his coat. The weather was growing colder. He stomped his feet and bought a smoked meat sandwich from a nearby food cart. As he bit into it, he watched the entrance of Delier''s art gallery.


    About ten minutes later, Mrs. Vivian emerged, her face glowing. She walked with much more vigor than when she had entered, her lips curved in satisfaction. A bruised and battered Delier followed closely behind her. Julian didn''t see Dave. Delier said a few things while bowing and nodding, then personally escorted Mrs.


    Vivian to her car. After watching the car disappear down the street, Delier wiped nonexistent sweat from his forehead and vigorously shook his arms.


    Julian quickly swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and ran across the street. "How did it go?"


    Delier nodded. "I think there''s no problem."


    "Where''s Jon?" Julian couldn''t help but chuckle as he mentioned the name. Dave had even adopted a stage name¡­ how amusing!


    Delier''s expression was strange, constantly sending Julian the wrong signal, as if¡­ something was off. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "He''s probably resting. After all, he''s a teenager, and his physical condition is something to be envied." Delier''s statement was clearly incomplete, leaving a hint of suggestiveness hanging in the air.


    Carrying the three portraits, Mrs. Vivian didn''t go straight home but headed to the Ternell City Police Department. There, she found Pronto, who had already changed out of his uniform and was preparing to head home. Arrogantly, she placed the three portraits on his desk, not even bothering to look at him directly. She had the confidence and power to act that way.


    Even though Pronto was the chief of police in Ternell City, he wouldn''t dare hold any grudges against her.


    After all, aside from being the mayor''s wife, Mrs. Vivian was the daughter of the former governor. She had deep connections and influence throughout the Star Empire, far beyond what a local police chief like Pronto could challenge!


    "Find these three people and arrest them. Handle it however you see fit."


    Mrs. Vivian quickly left the Ternell City Police Department; she disliked the place, feeling it was filled with "filth."


    It wasn''t that anything here made her feel repulsed, nor would anyone dare to act indecently toward her. For her, "filth" referred to things that were inferior, vulgar, ugly, or dirty¡ªa collection of negative descriptors. She was like a pristine piece of holy silverware, clean and pure, while this place was filled with the foul and detestable.


    Watching Mrs. Vivian''s car drive away, Pronto collapsed into his chair, utterly dejected. It was the end of the day, and just a minute ago, he had been humming a tune, ready to change into casual clothes and relax at a bar. But now, he could barely stop himself from cursing.


    Damn it! Sure, Ternell City was small, but it wasn''t so small that it only had three or fifty people. This was a city, not a kindergarten! Who the hell knew who the guys in the three portraits were or where they lived? And those distorted lines¡­ Pronto couldn''t even find the words. If someone really looked like that, they had to be the devil''s spawn.


    No human could possibly look like that.

 Chapter 92 - 92 Finding The Attackers

    If someone else had given him this task, he might have been able to brush it off. After all, he was the chief. It was normal to delegate such requests to his subordinates, and by the time the person came back, he could have one of his least favorite officers take the blame. Problem solved¡ªeveryone would understand that he was powerless to help.


    If they still pushed him, it would be clear they were picking a fight.


    But Mrs. Vivian was different. Neither her husband nor her own power and influence were things Pronto could dismiss. He was certain that if he didn''t find these three people soon, he''d be in serious trouble. Trouble, after all, meant losses.


    It could mean a loss of money, his badge, or something even more important.


    As Pronto called over two officers, sharing his frustration, Shaun, who had just woken up, came down from the second floor yawning. He rubbed his eyes, wiping away the remnants of sleep from the corners.


    That nap had been fantastic! There was nothing like falling asleep in the sunlight.


    As he was about to leave the station, the light from the office caught his attention. He hesitated for about half a second. His original plan was to find a bar and spend the night with a fun, carefree girl, then return for a lazy sleep.


    But after that half-second of hesitation¡ªwhether due to a pang of conscience or just curiosity¡ªhe walked toward the police chief''s office, which should have been closed by now. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When he opened the door, the corner of his mouth twitched. Pronto and two middle aged officers he vaguely recognized but couldn''t name were staring at the portraits on the desk, their eyes bloodshot. There was a pile of cigarette butts on the floor, still smoldering.


    "What''s this? A masterpiece?" His curiosity grew stronger, and he couldn''t help but speak up as he walked over, positioning himself between the three men and the portraits. After a close look, he stuck out his pinky and cleaned his ear with its narrow, sharp nail. "Did you hire a new artist? If I were you, I''d fire him right away.


    If it weren''t for the three moles, I wouldn''t even know these are supposed to be humans!"


    The next second, Shaun felt as though he had grown two inches taller, as Pronto grabbed him by the collar and shook him vigorously. "Let me down! We can talk this out! I only stole a few bottles of your liquor, no need to be this harsh!"


    Pronto paused, glancing instinctively toward his liquor cabinet. The cabinet, designed like an X-shaped fence, held 32 bottles of expensive liquor gifted to him. Or at least it had¡ªhe counted and found only 11 remaining.


    Why hadn''t he noticed before?


    That damn thief!


    Just as Pronto was about to act, his hands loosened, and he grabbed one of the portraits, shoving it in Shaun''s face. The portrait depicted a man with three wild strawberry-like marks on his face. "You know this guy?"


    "Relax, man. I was just making a comment. You want answers? I''ll tell you everything. Want to know the color of my underwear?" Shaun raised his hands in surrender, a forced smile on his face as the barrel of Pronto''s gun pressed against his chin. "Oh, you mean this guy?


    Of course, I know him. He''s one of Gador''s men¡ªname''s Corder. He''s been with the gang for eleven years and has been charged six times. Four of those times, he was released due to lack of evidence, and the other two were settled out of court. His file is in the ''Gador Crime Syndicate'' cabinet, first drawer, document number 33!"


    Pronto and the two officers stared at each other in disbelief. Was it really necessary to say all this just because a gun was pointed at him?


    Pronto holstered his gun, tilting his head, and one of the officers ran off to the archives. Pronto pointed to the liquor cabinet. "You can have all of it."


    Shaun''s expression went from annoyed to ecstatic in an instant. He threw his arm around Pronto''s shoulder, giving him a hearty pat on the back. "Good man! Since you''re so generous, I''ll let bygones be bygones."


    With a swagger, Shaun left the office. If Pronto hadn''t known his background, he might''ve thought Shaun was a gang member fresh out of jail.


    Soon, the officer returned with Corder''s file, revealing a bald man with a fierce expression in the photo.


    Comparing the photo to Mrs. Vivian''s portrait, Pronto''s lips twitched. Even if the real person stood next to the portrait, it''d be impossible to link the two.


    He slammed the desk in frustration. "Tell the officers on duty to find this guy immediately. And prepare a car¡ªI''m going to see Gador!"


    A police car, adorned with the city''s badge, slowly drove into Gador''s estate. Gador stepped out of the house to greet them. He hadn''t yet become a tycoon, but even if he had, he would still need to show Pronto a certain level of respect. After all, the messes he left behind could never be fully cleaned up.


    If Pronto decided to cause trouble for him, regardless of his future status, it would be extremely inconvenient.


    People generally disliked trouble, but they often showed respect to those who could create it.


    Gador, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a sharp suit, looked no different from the city''s high society tycoons. Since yesterday, he had started using hair wax, perhaps influenced by Wood. Regardless of whether he could eventually cross that threshold into high society, he felt he needed to show respect for the rules and was mentally preparing himself.


    As Pronto stepped out of the car, Gador''s smile blossomed instantly. He hurried down the stairs with both hands outstretched. His shirt cuffs, perfectly clean and stark white, peeked out an inch from his suit sleeves, almost blinding in their brightness. Gador warmly clasped Pronto''s chubby hands and gave them a firm shake. He wanted Pronto to feel the warmth in his palms¡ªthe warmth of enthusiasm.

 Chapter 93 - 93 Gador And High Class Etiquette

    "What brings you here today?" Gador asked, releasing his grip and motioning with his hand, inviting Pronto inside. He stepped aside, leading Pronto toward the house. This was something he had learned in etiquette class, for which he had spent a considerable sum to hire a retired royal etiquette master to teach him the daily courtesies of high society.


    This also made him realize that continuing down his current path was utterly meaningless.


    Three hundred bucks for a thirty minute lesson. You could say it was expensive, or you could choose not to learn, but plenty of people wanted to learn, and Gador had to pull some strings with a big boss just to secure the etiquette master. The more Gador was exposed to the things of high society, the more he felt his own insignificance.


    For Gador, this was a good thing because it allowed him to finally understand that he wasn''t as grand as he thought.


    As Gador led the way into the house, Pronto wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, giving Gador a sideways glance before letting out a cold chuckle without answering his question.


    That cold laugh sent a shiver down Gador''s spine. His smile froze momentarily, but he recovered quickly and smoothly, not asking any more questions. He continued to lead Pronto into his study.


    The study was opulent, with a thick camel-hair carpet underfoot that felt like walking on butter, sinking slightly with each step. Gold and red wallpaper adorned the walls, giving the room a grand, palace like atmosphere, complemented by luxurious light fixtures and ornate decor.


    Pronto made his way to the desk and plopped himself down in the fully enclosed chair, letting out a contented sigh. He beckoned with his finger, and the older police officer following them handed him a file folder. Pronto slammed it onto the desk with a scowl.


    Gador, suspicious and uneasy, picked up the folder and extracted a document. His pupils instantly contracted. Keeping his composure, he placed the file about Corder back on the desk, furrowing his brows slightly. "I don''t quite understand, Chief. If you''re here because of those past slanders and accusations, I think it''s unnecessary.


    The city court has already rendered its final verdict, and according to the Imperial law, once a final ruling is made... in short, there can be no further pursuit of a closed case."


    Indeed, Imperial law stated that any charge could only be judged once, and after the final ruling, even a wrongful conviction would be considered "resolved" and could not be pursued again. The old nobility had crafted this law to protect their own interests, and now criminals were also exploiting it.


    Although Gador was a gang leader, that didn''t mean he was uneducated. He read books, and out of the 397 books on the shelves behind Pronto, there were only a mere six that he hadn''t... carefully perused yet. The rest, he hadn''t had the chance to finish. But those six books all dealt with divine and imperial law.


    He remembered his boss once told him, "A smart butcher not only knows how to slaughter pigs, but also how to sharpen the knife."


    So, whenever he needed to sleep, he would pull out one of those books, read three to five pages, and then drift into slumber. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    From reading so many books, he had retained a bit of knowledge. This particular law stuck with him because he often needed to rely on it.


    Pronto looked at Gador, who met his gaze without fear.


    Gador wanted to project an air of openness. His etiquette teacher had told him that when making a controversial choice, meeting someone''s eyes with a calm gaze would convey sincerity and honesty.


    But to Pronto, it seemed like Gador was deliberately provoking him.


    Pronto chuckled coldly again as he stood up from the chair, dusting off his pants with the brim of his police cap. "Well, if that''s the case, then I have nothing more to say. Goodbye!"


    Why didn''t it work?!


    Gador could no longer worry about etiquette. He knew full well that for a police chief like Pronto to disregard public opinion and come here personally, something serious must have happened. Letting Pronto leave now, what if something went wrong later? Who would he cry to then? With a flattering smile, he grabbed Pronto and pressed him back into the chair.


    He quickly retrieved a pack of "Le Tu" from his desk.


    "Le Tu" was a kind of drugs that could soothe intense emotions and induce a subtle sense of happiness.


    It had once been a specialty of the Mexican Empire, and after the Mexican was conquered by the Star Empire, it became a prized product of the Empire. The main production area was in the southeastern part of the Empire, and due to its popularity among pleasure seeking nobles, it quickly went from being abundant to nearly extinct.


    Now, it was an economic pillar for two provinces, mainly supplied to high society social circles.


    Because of its unique effects, it was dubbed "Le Tu!"


    A standard box of Le Tu contained twelve pieces and sold for between five hundred and six hundred dollar. If made from wild fungi, the price would exceed a thousand per box, with only six pieces inside.


    Clearly, this wasn''t wild fungi but cultivated. After all, the sale of this stuff was propping up the economy of two provinces, so its value was self-evident!


    Pronto, satisfied, crossed his legs and watched as Gador used a solid gold cutter to snip the end of the Le Tu before lightly heating it and handing it over. Nodding in approval, Pronto took a puff, immediately relaxing and even feeling a touch of laziness. He glanced at the Le Tu between his fingers and remarked, "This is good stuff."


    Gador immediately placed the gold cutter into Pronto''s pocket and handed the rest of the box to the old officer nearby. "Since you like it, Chief, take it with you!"


    Pronto smiled, pointing at him before finally speaking leisurely...

 Chapter 94 - 94 The Missing Corder

    "This guy named Corder, I''m not sure what he did to offend Lady Vivian, but she specifically wants him and his two accomplices taken down. Do you understand?"


    As Pronto spoke, Gador suddenly felt overheated in his outfit, and he ripped open his collar, pacing a few steps. The smile he had been carefully maintaining began to turn slightly grim. In Ternell City, there was an interesting saying: Lady Vivian was considered the "shadow mayor," and whatever she decided, even the official mayor couldn''t change.


    Many policies already in effect were only implemented after receiving her nod of approval.


    This rumor circulated among the tycoons who had glimpses of the truth, though it remained unclear. Gador had once heard about it during a private dinner with some bosses. A reporter had once insinuated that although Lady Vivian''s father, the former governor, had stepped down due to illness, he still held onto his power without passing it on.


    The reporter had also criticized the influence of women in Ternell City''s politics, but the underlying message was aimed at Lady Vivian''s father.


    Less than three days later, that sharp-tongued journalist was found floating in the Agate River, his body already bloated.


    It was obvious that Lady Vivian''s father had ordered the hit, and the person who had influenced the journalist was none other than the new governor. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Because Gador knew a bit too much, when he heard Pronto mention the name "Lady Vivian" with its near-magical weight, his anxiety spiked. Such a figure didn''t even need to lift a finger to deal with him¡ªjust a word, and he could be ruined, unless his boss was willing to protect him.


    But was he worth that much?


    He didn''t think so. Doing dirty work wasn''t exactly difficult; anyone could be found to do it. So, he had to save himself.


    He slammed the bell on the table with force, and soon someone entered the room. Turning back, his voice cold, he ordered, "Bring Corder here. If he resists, break his limbs!"


    The person hesitated for only a moment before nodding and leaving to carry out the task.


    Unfortunately for him, they would not be able to complete Gador''s command, as Corder was now in Julian''s hands.


    In a warehouse on a suburban farm, Corder and his two partners still couldn''t understand why they had ended up in the hands of these young people, or why they had been kidnapped. They had no money... well, maybe they had once, but that was all wasted on strong booze and cheap women. Corder wasn''t married and had no family, so he saw no need to save money.


    Living happily day to day was his only real wish.


    With a clump of scratchy grass shoved in his mouth and a scarf tied around it, he couldn''t spit it out or swallow. The saliva his body produced, thinking he was eating, mixed with bitter grass fibers and trickled down his throat, making him feel miserable. He swore that if he made it out of here, he would bring his crew and toss everyone in this place into the Agate River.


    He didn''t know how much time had passed before the warehouse door suddenly opened. Squinting into the light pouring in, he could see figures moving against the bright background. It took about ten seconds for his eyes to adjust from the darkness to the light.


    It was the group who had kidnapped him, and suddenly, his emotions flared. He struggled violently, letting out muffled grunts.


    One boy, clearly different from the others, approached him. Hooking his finger on the scarf, he pulled it down, allowing Corder to spit out the clump of grass with a loud gagging sound. His eyes glared fiercely at the boy, the muscles on his cheekbones twitching like a wild dog ready to fight over its food.


    "Corder?" the boy asked, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he looked down on him from above. Corder hated that feeling, so he turned his face away without answering.


    At that moment, a fist came from the side and struck his face, snapping his head to the side. His brain buzzed from the impact.


    "I don''t like being disrespected when I''m talking. That was just a small lesson. If it happens again, I''ll cut off your ear!"


    "Go ahead, cut it off!" Corder snarled, raising his eyebrow and turning his face toward the boy, exposing his ear. "Do it now! Cut it off!" He licked the swollen, painful spot on his lips, showing no fear of the threat.


    One of the other boys, who looked almost like a girl, actually pulled out a knife from behind his waist. Grabbing Corder''s ear, he swiftly sliced it off. The blood didn''t spurt out but instead quietly flowed, and the ear, with bits of skin and muscle attached, dropped into the elegant boy''s hand.


    "Hey!" Corder gritted his teeth and didn''t scream, but instead sneered. "Good, very good. Come on, kill me! If I walk out of here alive, you''re all dead!"


    Julian shook his head, amused. "Do you really think you have any value left? Do you think I''m scared to kill you?" he said as he pulled out a gun and pointed it at Corder''s head. Just as Corder was about to spout more arrogant words, Julian pulled the trigger.


    The bullet shattered Corder''s skull, caving in the area from his temple to his brow. A mist of blood and brain matter sprayed from the back of his head, filling the warehouse with a metallic stench.


    The two other tied-up men began trembling. They were Gador''s men, and in this city, apart from the big shots and tycoons, there was no one they feared. But why did these people seem unafraid of them? Why did they dare to attack them? They didn''t understand, nor did they want to. They just didn''t want to die.


    Without any pity, Julian looked at the two men, their eyes pleading as they struggled frantically. He fired two more shots, and the two were silenced forever.


    Julian holstered his gun and shrugged. "Clean this place up. I was planning to add a bit more trouble for Gador, but it doesn''t matter. He won''t get through this anyway."

 Chapter 95 - 95 Looking For Corder

    Yes, Julian had orchestrated the entire plan himself. He had someone play Delier under the lights, counting money, knowing Corder would "just happen" to come across it and rob him. There had been at least five witnesses to the whole event.


    Julian had also arranged for Corder and the other two to be kidnapped in an unlit part of the street¡ªwhere he had someone break the streetlights at dusk¡ªand brought to the warehouse.


    He had come today to deal with the three of them and bury them on the farm. Once Gador couldn''t find them, Pronto would have no excuse to protect him. When faced with someone of Lady Vivian''s stature, just saving himself would take all Pronto''s effort. Why would he risk helping Gador? Gador wasn''t his son, nor had he given Pronto any significant benefits.


    By then, regardless of what Pronto wanted, his only way to remove himself from the situation would be to tell Lady Vivian that he had done his best, but Gador refused to hand over the people. He could even raid one or two of Gador''s territories to prove his dedication to the task.


    Feeling guilty, Lady Vivian, in gratitude for the sacrifices made by "John," would likely bring the matter up with the mayor.


    Of course, not the matter of her affairs with "John," but asking the mayor to put pressure on Gador to avenge Delier¡ªwithout needing to say too much.


    Whether or not the mayor had ties with Gador, he would have to consider which side offered him more benefits before making a decision.


    One was the daughter of the former governor, who still held considerable power in Kanros State and had an extensive social network.


    The other was merely the leader of a gang in Ternell City, who could help with some shady business occasionally but didn''t offer much else in return. Besides, Gador knew too many things for his own good.


    With such a comparison, the mayor would easily decide who to keep and who to discard.


    By then, even if Gador somehow survived, his power would be significantly diminished, making it much easier to deal with him later.


    Gador''s manor was brightly lit, with people constantly coming and going. Everyone belonging to Gador in Ternell city had been mobilized. Though they didn''t fully understand Gador''s orders, it didn''t stop them from carrying them out.


    Find Corder at any cost¡ªthat was the task Gador had given them. It had been years since anyone or anything had made Gador use the phrase "at any cost." Now that he had said it, all the gang members understood the gravity of the situation. Gador''s people were acting both visibly and behind the scenes. They even searched trash cans, thinking perhaps Corder had heard something and was hiding there.


    They lifted sewer covers, assigning dozens of people to check the pipes thoroughly. These men scoured every corner of the city, yet there was no trace of Corder.


    Staring at the woman kneeling in front of him, disheveled and terrified, Gador showed no sympathy. He considered himself a ruthless man, or at least that''s how he saw himself. He would rather reserve pity for small animals than waste it on humans. A small animal might bite you when you''re not paying attention, but a person could take your life.


    His face remained stern, head lowered, and the glow from his cigarette flared up as he took a deep drag, momentarily illuminating his face, which lay in the shadows outside the light''s reach.


    He flicked the cigarette ash, which tumbled and shattered on the floor.


    "Where did Corder go?" he asked.


    The woman before him was Corder''s "old flame." She wasn''t his girlfriend, nor his wife, just a woman with skills. With her talents, or perhaps for other sentimental reasons, she had become Corder''s most frequent companion. Sometimes Corder would even stay at her place, and many people thought it was only a matter of time before they''d live together permanently.


    Corder occasionally entrusted this woman, named Amy, with personal matters. She knew quite a bit, so when Corder couldn''t be found, she was the first to be brought here. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Amy''s lips trembled, the corners of her mouth quivered, and even the muscles on her face twitched uncontrollably. Tears streamed from her eyes, ruining the makeup she had carefully applied earlier, creating a black torrent as her cheap cosmetics mixed with her tears. She wanted to cry but didn''t dare to make a sound. She knew Gador''s terror better than most, and that fear kept her from crying aloud.


    "I... I don''t know!" she stammered, her voice shaking as much as her erratic heartbeat. She quickly bowed, her forehead hitting the ground with a thud. Ignoring the burning pain and brief dizziness, she added, "I really don''t know where he is. He hasn''t come to see me in days. Please, spare me."


    Gador indifferently took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling a column of smoke. In the darkness, he tilted his head slightly. "But I heard that three days ago, you were still with him. Am I being deceived, or do you think I don''t know what''s going on?"


    Under the immense pressure, Amy broke down into soft sobs. She slowly straightened herself, her once neatly styled hair now covering most of her face. With her forehead wrinkling from the upward gaze, she pleaded, "God as my witness, I haven''t seen him in days. He was with me three days ago, but I had to go to work that night, so I left alone... Oh, right, he said Ken would come find him.


    They were going to have some fun together."


    "I swear, I don''t know where he went... God, I just want to go home!" As soon as she finished speaking, at least four men rushed out of the room. If they couldn''t find Corder, then they''d go after Ken. Ken was also a member of the gang and close to Corder. The two were like brothers, always playing together.


    Someone had already gone to Ken''s house, but he wasn''t home, and not wanting to waste time, they hadn''t looked further.

 Chapter 96 - 96 Scapegoat

    Now, from Amy''s words, it seemed possible that Corder and Ken were together. They had already searched everywhere Corder might be, so why not try looking in Ken''s circle of contacts?


    Gador casually flicked the cigarette butt from his fingers and squatted in front of Amy. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he began gently wiping away the makeup smeared by her tears. Amy trembled violently, too scared to move as the man tenderly cleaned her face, yet she felt no warmth¡ªonly a coldness that engulfed her entire body.


    "Why didn''t you say this earlier?" Gador asked softly, continuing to wipe her face. "I don''t have much time, you understand? Not even a minute, not even a second." As he spoke, the handkerchief floated to the ground. Amy''s eyes rolled downward frantically, filled with a sense of profound despair. In the next moment, Gador''s hand closed around her throat, his face twisting with rage.


    Pronto''s words had put too much pressure on him. From a boy with nothing, he had risked his life and dignity to achieve his current status and possessions. He didn''t want to lose anything, whether it be his life or his power.


    But now, it seemed he might lose everything, simply because he hadn''t found that damned Corder, or that damned Ken, and all of it was because this woman hadn''t told the truth right away!


    The veins in his hand bulged as he tightened his grip. His thin, tightly pressed lips made him seem utterly merciless.


    Amy struggled under his grasp, but his other hand joined in, squeezing her neck tightly. She tried to pry his hands away, but a woman in tech was no match for a gang leader. Her struggles soon turned to slaps and frantic clawing. Gador tilted his head back, half-crouched, his arms extended, and his grip tightened.


    The movements of the woman in his hands grew smaller, weaker, until finally, there was no movement at all.


    He tossed Amy aside and stood up, brushing off his slightly disheveled clothes. After pacing for a few steps, he turned around and ordered, "I remember Corder, Ken, and someone else... Eden? Yes, him. The three of them were always close. Send someone to find Eden.


    I don''t care where they''re hiding, but you must find them soon, or we''re in big trouble!"


    "Understand?"


    "Big trouble!"


    Watching his men rush out, he returned to the shadows and sat down in a chair. Without showing any sign of urgency, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.


    It was indeed big trouble. As the head of the most powerful underworld faction in the city, failing to find Corder meant losing control of his gang, or worse, defying the demands of those powerful figures. No matter what others thought, he knew he was in serious trouble.


    At that moment, he thought of Wood.


    ...


    "What should I do now?"


    Wood glanced at Gador, who was sitting across from him. He wasn''t sure what was on Gador''s mind, but he noticed a slight furrow in his brow.


    These past few days, Wood had stayed here, waiting for Gador to bring him good news. Unfortunately, that good news seemed to be delayed, while the bad news had already arrived.


    Wood knew Madam Vivian quite well. As one of the city''s tycoons, he was often seen at gatherings of the elite, though he never openly admitted that he didn''t enjoy those events much. He always sensed a lack of respect from the influential attendees, who mockingly referred to him as ''The Axeman Wood,'' a nickname that belittled his rural origins.


    But he couldn''t avoid those circles. His life''s pursuit was within that small group, and after finally squeezing his way in, how could he just leave without hesitation?


    If it weren''t for recent events, he might have continued as before, dreaming of one day entering politics. He had even invested most of his savings in that path. His original plan was to apply for the election when the terms of the two councilmen in Ternell city ended in two years, but all that had been brought to an abrupt halt a few days ago.


    He felt a strange mix of relief and bitterness at the losses he had suffered.


    His thoughts quickly returned to the present. After a brief pause, he nodded and said, "You made a mistake!" Gador listened seriously, his expression like that of a diligent student in a classroom, which gave Wood a peculiar sense of satisfaction. "You shouldn''t have met Pronto face to face, and you definitely shouldn''t have spoken to him.


    Do you really think he came here, driving a police car in broad daylight, because of the pressure he felt?" S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "No, you''re wrong!"


    "His goal was to let everyone know that he, the chief of police in Ternell city, had come to see you. By doing that, he distanced himself from the issue. It''s easy to understand. Given Madam Vivian''s status, she would never come into contact with someone like Corder, a mere gang member. She doesn''t even know who he is.


    The responsibility lies with Pronto, and if Corder can''t be found, Madam Vivian will be furious, and Pronto will be the scapegoat."


    "But by swaggering over here in full view, he transferred that responsibility to you. And like an idiot, you took it, turning that responsibility into a noose and placing it around your own neck."


    Gador''s face darkened. In front of Wood¡ªat least in this moment¡ªhe didn''t need to maintain any pretenses. Wood was an experienced man who understood his feelings. What Gador hadn''t expected was that there was this layer of manipulation behind the situation. It made him feel like he had been played, taking on a burden that wasn''t even his to bear.


    He took a deep breath, calming himself before lowering his voice to ask, "I don''t want to hear this. I just want to know how to survive this crisis if I can''t find Corder."

 Chapter 97 - 97 Everyone Is Shirking Responsibility

    Wood dodged the question and instead brought up another topic. "Do you know how we deal with people like you?" Without waiting for Gador to respond, Wood continued, "We''d pin a crime on you, throw you into the regional jail, and some insignificant thug you once humiliated would stab you in the back when you weren''t looking.


    Over the next while, you''d die from some ''accident,'' and you''d be marked as a casualty of gang warfare. Then, a new leader would rise, and the cycle of retaliation would continue."


    "See? Problem solved, and we''ve cleared out another destabilizing factor in the city¡ªa win-win."


    Just as Gador was on the verge of an outburst, Wood raised a hand to calm him down. "To resolve this problem¡­ well, it''s both simple and not. First, you need to remove yourself from the situation, just like Pronto did, by shifting the responsibility onto someone else."


    Wood''s suggestion left Gador puzzled. Seeing the confusion in Gador''s eyes, Wood gave a wry smile and shook his head. "I''ve had time to cool off these past few days. I was a fool back then. Robin had already told me the truth, but I ignored it and made a terrible mistake. Don''t think I''ve gone mad¡ªI haven''t!"


    At this point, Wood had gradually woken up from the pain and impulsiveness. Just a few days ago, he was consumed with thoughts of revenge, dreaming of inflicting a hundredfold suffering on that kid, Julian.


    But as he calmed down, he realized that all his pain stemmed from his own actions¡ªhis rigid, impulsive decisions had led to these consequences.


    If he had been willing to sit down and talk with Julian, if he had followed Robin''s advice to remain calm in the face of his close friend''s death, perhaps none of this would have happened. But he had been too impulsive.


    His years of surviving in high society had made him feel like his conflict with Julian was a personal insult, and all he wanted was to quickly erase that humiliation, neglecting so many crucial details.


    In many ways, it was his fault.


    He continued, "First, we need to shift the responsibility, without question. At the same time, you need to demonstrate a sense of ''responsibility'' to the big players, showing them that even if it wasn''t your fault, you had the courage to take it on. That will win you some favor, even if that favor isn''t worth much."


    But Gador wasn''t listening. Frowning, he asked, "What should I do?" S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Wood pressed his lips together. "Plant evidence, frame someone else, and throw the blame on Julian."


    "You''re just using this to get revenge on him, aren''t you?" Gador was visibly displeased. He thought Wood hadn''t truly come to his senses, trying to exploit this situation for his personal vendetta against Julian. How could Wood claim he was calm?


    Wood smiled reassuringly at Gador. "This is exactly what you should do¡­"


    ...


    "Taken by Julian''s men?" Pronto rolled his eyes. "Do I look like an idiot?" Gador remained silent, which only deepened Pronto''s displeasure toward him. He had gone to great lengths to shift the responsibility to Gador, essentially asking him to take the fall. But now Gador was trying to push the blame onto Julian. Whether Julian could bear that burden or not wasn''t the issue.


    The problem was that if the blame kept getting passed around, it wouldn''t be Gador or Julian who looked the worst¡ªit would be Pronto.


    It was obvious. When the higher-ups handed down responsibility, it wasn''t to make Pronto''s life difficult. Madam Vivian''s intention had been clear. She and Pronto were from different worlds, and she had no need to make things hard for a local police chief to assert her status. She simply entrusted the task to the most suitable person, and that was it¡ªno hidden agenda.


    When Pronto passed the responsibility to Gador, Madam Vivian would understand. After all, no one expected a police chief to personally comb the streets looking for someone. She had given the job to the right person, and that person, like her, passed it on to someone else. This is where the chain of responsibility should have ended. It couldn''t be passed along any further.


    But Gador trying to pin the blame on Julian signaled something else¡ªthat everyone was shirking responsibility. This clearly amounted to brushing off Madam Vivian''s request.


    Failing to complete the task because of incompetence was one thing; you couldn''t blame a rooster for not laying eggs. But shirking responsibility was a different matter. It showed disrespect, disregard, and possibly resentment¡ªtoward whom?


    Madam Vivian might think that Pronto, the local police chief, was harboring some resentment toward her, hence his carelessness and lack of respect in handling the matter.


    And if Madam Vivian felt that way, what would she do?


    She would vent her frustration on Pronto. Either she''d strip him of his badge or give him a harsh reprimand. Neither outcome was something Pronto wanted.


    So, Gador had stepped right onto a landmine.


    After a moment of silence, Pronto''s eyes fell on the box of cigarettes on his desk. Annoyed, he opened it, intending to light one, only to find that a few sticks were missing. His look of confusion quickly turned to frustration as he slammed the box shut. He wasn''t about to lock it away in front of Gador, but he swore to himself that he''d give Shaun a lesson¡ªa serious one.


    There was no doubt. The only person bold enough to steal something from his office was Shaun.


    Already in a bad mood, and now feeling disrespected by Shaun, Pronto''s temper flared. He grabbed a stack of files from his desk and threw them at Gador. Gador didn''t dare dodge, taking the hit as the files scattered across the floor. Pronto stood up, walked a few steps behind his desk, and pointed a finger at Gador''s face. "Stupid. Completely idiotic.


    I don''t know which fool gave you this idea, but thinking you can avoid danger with a move like this is the height of stupidity."

 Chapter 98 - 98 There Are Many People Named Corder

    "You need to understand one thing: this is a task given by Madam Vivian, and it hasn''t gone public yet. What do you think will happen if you fail to frame Julian?" Pronto sneered with anger. "Yes, I might face punishment, but you, Mr. Gador, the future big shot¡ªyou will face a much worse outcome."


    Pronto''s finger jabbed Gador''s chest as he spoke, pressing harder with each jab. Gador''s eye twitched, but he didn''t move, simply staring straight at Pronto, the police chief.


    Pronto wasn''t exaggerating. The fact that Julian had managed to leverage his connection with Kevin meant he likely had ties to other influential figures as well. Ternell city didn''t belong to any one person. It belonged to a small group of people, visionaries with power. Moreover, the vice president of the city''s Chamber of Commerce was a Guar who had once pulled Graf out of prison.


    Pronto found it hard to believe that such a prominent figure had no connection to Julian.


    If there was one connection, it likely meant there were more¡ªpossibly many more¡ªthat Pronto wasn''t aware of. Julian''s grand gestures had even left Pronto with little resistance, so the higher-ups were probably even more impressed with his sincerity.


    Whether Julian knew more powerful people wasn''t the real issue. The real danger was what would happen if Gador''s attempt to frame him failed and Julian retaliated.


    Pronto knew that Madam Vivian had entrusted him with this task not just because she cared, but because it was a private matter¡ªsomething best kept quiet.


    A private matter is private only as long as it remains so. Once it''s public, it''s news. If they couldn''t catch the culprits and Julian was offended in the process, and if they also ended up angering Madam Vivian, Pronto figured he might as well jump out the window to spare himself further torment.


    For this reason, Pronto was completely against Gador''s plan to frame Julian.


    This wasn''t digging a hole for someone else¡ªit was digging a grave for himself. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "So, what do we do now?" Gador asked, taking a sealed envelope from his pocket and placing it on the table. Pronto glanced at it and sneered. The envelope contained little money, no more than two thousand. In the past, Pronto might have thought Gador was a decent young man¡ªaware of the rules, quick on the uptake. But after his dealings with Julian, Pronto now saw Gador as short sighted.


    In terms of making money, Julian wasn''t yet Gador''s equal, but Julian had offered ten thousand as a greeting gift, while Gador, with his bigger name and higher status, had only come up with two thousand to bribe Pronto. The comparison made Gador seem insignificant in Pronto''s eyes.


    Pronto calmed down a bit, considering his next move. Madam Vivian''s order was to capture the culprits and lock them up. Surely, she wouldn''t show up to personally witness it. Casually, Pronto pocketed the envelope, then put an arm around Gador''s neck, forcing his head slightly lower than his own. "There are many people named Corder in Ternell city. Go find the one you''re looking for!"


    ...


    "Ship this batch out as soon as possible... no, don''t wait for the evening. Send it during the day," Julian said to Ellis, giving instructions about the bootleg liquor shipment.


    Several bars in the city had already begun inquiring about how to stock ''First Love'' and ''Snow Elf.'' They had little choice. Beyond a few wealthy young patrons, the core customer base for bars consisted of successful men in their thirties, forties, or even fifties. The key was that they were successful.


    These patrons didn''t mind how much they spent in a single night; they only cared about getting their money''s worth.


    Not everyone might like the taste of "First Love," but if one in three did, that was already a remarkable number. And right now, many of the core customers loved the flavor of "First Love." After all, not everyone''s life from birth to success was smooth sailing, and "First Love" resonated with those who had experienced hardship.


    So, the bars that hadn''t yet received the liquor were desperate to avoid losing their clientele and quickly reached out to Julian, hoping to stock "First Love" and "Snow Elf" on their shelves as soon as possible.


    Ellis, who had been in charge of production lately, followed Julian''s instructions without question, nodding repeatedly. Just a moment ago, he had asked whether they should transport the liquor at night to avoid Gador''s surveillance. But Julian immediately rejected the idea and instructed him to ship it during broad daylight.


    Ellis still didn''t fully understand why, but that didn''t stop him from executing Julian''s orders.


    In fact, Julian was right. The danger of transporting at night far exceeded the risks of doing it in the day. No matter how reckless Gador might be, he wouldn''t dare engage in street violence in broad daylight, unless he wanted even more trouble.


    After settling the shipment arrangements, Julian and Ellis chatted briefly, just as Dave entered the room with a serious expression. In the past, Ellis might have taken this as his cue to leave, closing the door behind him, but his role had changed. Now, he no longer needed to step aside like an ordinary member of the guild.


    Dave''s expression was grim as he kicked off his boots. "They found Corder and took him to the police station. The police have already convicted the three men for robbery and plan to send them to the regional jail in the coming days." The thought of how his "sacrifice" had been dismissed so easily filled him with an unspeakable fury. He glared at Julian, who simply smiled.


    "Don''t worry. The more tricks they pull, the quicker they''ll die," Julian said, understanding that nothing ever went exactly as planned. Whether you were a noble or just an ordinary person, you had to constantly adjust to the complexities of the situation. His original plan was to exact revenge on Gador and Wood, but somehow Pronto had been pulled into the mix as well.


    While this wasn''t part of his plan, he didn''t mind.

 Chapter 99 - 99 Escalating A Failure Into Outright Deceit

    In his initial strategy, Gador''s inability to produce Corder would have enraged Madam Vivian, which would, in turn, catch the attention of the mayor and the two councilmen. Those three, the most powerful figures in Ternell city, would easily discard someone as insignificant as Gador to appease Madam Vivian''s wrath. Julian had never imagined that Gador would actually produce three men.


    Clearly, he had cheated.


    Gador had found three individuals willing to take the fall for Corder and his group, passing them off as the now deceased trio. He then handed them over to the authorities, perfectly fulfilling Madam Vivian''s request. When the time was right, Gador would likely pull the men out of jail, or simply silence them, neatly tying up the whole matter.


    This wasn''t about Gador''s bravery but about how well these people understood the arrogance of the elite. The upper echelons of society were so self assured that they believed no one would dare defy or deceive them. In their eyes, the only difference between them and god was that they couldn''t revive the dead.


    It was precisely this arrogance that allowed people like Gador to find loopholes, to deceive and manipulate, unchecked.


    Gador and whoever advised him likely believed that someone as high ranking as Madam Vivian wouldn''t personally inspect the three men. Even if she did, they assumed she wouldn''t recognize whether these were the people she was looking for. Unfortunately for them, they overlooked one crucial detail¡ªthis wasn''t a random incident. It was a deliberately orchestrated "accident."


    Because they missed this key element, they had effectively placed their necks in a noose.


    If Gador''s failure to produce the real Corder was seen as disrespectful to Madam Vivian, then this charade¡ªsubstituting impostors¡ªwas outright deceit, a far worse offense!


    And a greater offense naturally brings harsher consequences.


    Julian felt a brief twinge of guilt for Pronto. In the end, if it weren''t for Pronto''s cooperation, the three men wouldn''t have been so easily identified as Madam Vivian''s targets and sent to the regional jail. Without Pronto''s involvement, Gador would still be in deep trouble, scrambling to provide results. Their cooperation had expedited the entire process!


    After a silent prayer for Pronto, Julian set the matter aside. As long as the three men were locked up, Gador would suffer greatly, even if he didn''t die. This was the downside of operating without all the necessary information.


    Bidding Ellis farewell, Julian took Dave with him to the Guar residential district in Ternell. He needed to visit the families of the fallen members, a promise he had made and one he intended to keep. He firmly believed that integrity was the foundation of any person''s success in society. If you made a promise, no matter how awkward or humiliating, you had to keep it.


    Otherwise, no one would trust you, and you''d find yourself at a standstill.


    The Guar residential district was as impoverished and desolate as ever. Most of those with the ability to work had left for other parts of the city, leaving only the elderly, women, and children.


    A group of six- or seven-year-old children, dressed in clothes that were either too large or too small and covered in patches, ran up and down the garbage-filled streets, their laughter echoing in the cold air. Nearby, a few middle-aged women sat together in small groups, basking in the sun, their eyes following Julian, Dave, and their car with curiosity.


    Some of the children gathered around, their dark eyes filled with wonder as they gazed at the car, which wasn''t particularly new, but still a novelty. They reached out their hands.


    They were asking for candy or coins¡ªanything. This behavior had become an unwritten rule in the world''s slums: if you didn''t give a little money or a small gift, you might find it difficult to proceed. But if you did give, it wouldn''t be a small amount.


    Several adults had already turned their attention to the scene. If Julian or Dave handed out even a single coin, they would immediately start banging on their doors, calling their children out to join the beggars.


    Many had criticized the Guars for this behavior, but if life and society hadn''t pushed them to such extremes, perhaps they wouldn''t be so desperate.


    Sometimes, even though you know what you''re doing is wrong and should not be done, there are always reasons why you must do it.


    Julian took a roll of one-dollar bills from his pocket. He didn''t particularly like this habit of rolling bills into a cylinder, but people here loved doing it. Holding a roll of money tightly in their hands seemed to bring them more pleasure and satisfaction.


    The knocking on doors on the street began immediately, like a majestic symphony. More and more children came out of their homes, some as young as five or six, without clothes or shoes, running out as clean as they came into the world. They gathered around the car and the two young "big shots."


    Handing out paper bills to each one of them was rather troublesome because you had to consider everyone''s feelings and distribute them one by one. Although these children were poor and sometimes difficult to handle, they were very polite, and this was not contradictory.


    When Julian handed a dollar to a little girl, who looked no older than five or six and was wearing nothing but patched-up pants, she sweetly said, "Thank you," and then withdrew from the crowd.


    More and more children gathered around, and many of them recognized Dave, calling out his name.


    Dave had a certain reputation among the young Guar people and children in Ternell city. His peers looked up to him as an idol and a goal because, whether in the past or now, he had changed his family''s circumstances through his own efforts, making himself look impressive. Younger children feared him; adults didn''t always speak positively about Dave. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    They would use his name to scare the kids, saying things like, "If you don''t behave and go to sleep, I''ll have Dave come beat you," or "Put down that bread, or I''ll send you to Dave."

 Chapter 100 - 100 Uniting The Guar

    The children surrounding them hesitated, but under the temptation of the money in Julian''s hand, they kept pressing forward.


    With more and more kids coming, Julian realized that this could go on forever. He pulled out another roll of bills, combined two rolls together, and threw them into the crowd. In an instant, over a hundred bills were tossed into the air, falling like snowflakes, creating a "rain of money" over the crowd.


    The children''s attention immediately shifted from Julian and Dave to the bills falling from the sky.


    This generous display also brought some adults out of their homes. They didn''t take action but stood on the street, watching as one unfamiliar and one familiar young man walked toward them.


    "Hey, Dave, what are you doing here?" someone asked. Dave smiled and shook his head without saying a word, pointing at Julian.


    Julian stepped onto the sidewalk. The children were still scrambling for the bills raining down, and there was no one around him. He adjusted his clothing and put on a serious expression, trying to look as earnest and solemn as possible. His gaze slowly moved over the adults standing by the roadside, and most of them instinctively looked away when his eyes met theirs.


    It wasn''t that Julian''s gaze was particularly fierce, but his previous extravagant behavior made these adults realize that this was a young man they couldn''t afford to offend.


    Because he had money.


    In this cruel yet fantastical society, money was the standard by which everything was measured. If you had money, you were powerful, you could be justified, and even unreasonable. If you didn''t have money, it was better to remain a peaceful, unbothered poor person and avoid bringing trouble upon yourself.


    "My name is Julian!" Julian introduced himself in a deep voice to the adults around him. "Some of you may have heard of me but never seen me. Today, I''m here to bring sad news and offer my confession."


    "I''ve never thought of myself as some great figure. I''m just a normal person struggling in this damned society. Maybe one day, I''ll have countless bills and lay in a mansion fooling around with dozens of women." Some people around chuckled, but Julian didn''t. The next part wasn''t funny.


    "But there''s also another possibility: I could die one day, at an unremarkable moment, from a stray bullet at a street corner."


    "I understand that I''ve caused some of you to lose children and loved ones, and for that, I am deeply sorry. I sincerely apologize for my mistakes and for the pain I caused in your families. Now, following the course of fate, I stand before you to offer my most humble apology."


    The crowd slowly parted, and two women with grief-stricken faces supported each other as they walked up to Julian. These were relatives of two teenagers who had died in a fight. The sorrow on their faces was as deeply etched as an artist''s sculpture, carved into their skin, muscles, and even their souls!


    Julian stepped forward, grasped their noticeably aged hands, and held them tightly. "I know that no matter how much I try to make amends, I can never fill the void left by your lost loved ones. But I''m here. I don''t expect your forgiveness, but I hope I can use my humble abilities to do my best to compensate for your loss."


    At this moment, Dave walked over and pulled out two rolls of money from his pocket. Each roll was made of ten-dollar bills, totaling several hundred, maybe even a thousand dollars. The surrounding Guar people gasped. This was the most money they had ever seen in one place in their entire lives. The impact was like facing a towering tsunami, shaking both their bodies and spirits.


    Julian placed the two rolls of money into the hands of the two women, pressing them tightly. "I am a shameful person, for in this moment, I find no other way to comfort you than with money. Accept this, along with my apology, my promise, and my remorse!"


    "I will build a school nearby, a free school where any Guar child can receive an education without paying a single penny.


    "I will build a park where all the children can play on clean lawns.


    "I will establish a hospital, perhaps not the most advanced, but I guarantee there will be no consultation fees, and treatment costs will be far lower than other hospitals."


    "I am Julian. Keep your eyes on me, and I will lead everyone down a different path. There may be difficulties, death, and sacrifices, but as long as I live!"


    Julian''s words poured down over the entire neighborhood like a torrential rain, drawing more and more adults closer. They constantly asked those around them what Julian had just said and why everyone was so excited.


    The world majority of people provided for the luxurious lives of the few, elevated their social status, and allowed them to enjoy wealth and wield unlimited power. But if one day, these 95% of the poor no longer wish to raise them, what will they have left?


    Julian never considered the poor Guar people as a burden on his path to struggle and development. On the contrary, these people could very well be the strongest foundation for building his empire! S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I once promised..." As soon as Julian spoke, the previously noisy crowd quieted down instantly. Aside from the occasional laughter of the children, only Julian''s voice could be heard on the street. "The parents of every member of the fellowship are my parents. We should be one family; all Guar should be one family.


    God has bestowed upon us the bloodline of King Ordlero, and we should unite closely together to roar against all who dare to discriminate against us, threaten us, or mistreat us!"


    "The bloodline of King Ordlero still flows within us. The will of the king has never been extinguished, and even though our nation has fallen, the descendants of Ordlero will never submit to the manipulations of fate!"

 Chapter 101 - 101 Building A Solid Structure For The Gang

    Ordlero was the first emperor of the Guar kingdom, a ruler with immense personal charisma. He wasn''t just an emperor; he was also a great thinker, a great artist, a great statesman, and a beloved king. This history dates back over a thousand years. The once-powerful kingdom nearly ruled the entire world, which is why all Guar proudly refer to themselves as descendants of King Ordlero.


    Julian''s words sparked a strong reaction once again. The Guar people, who had always been treated differently, felt an indescribable heat surge to their heads, something welling up in their eyes. They spontaneously pushed forward, wanting to get closer to this young speaker.


    "Some of you may ask me, ''Are you saying all this to restore the kingdom?''" Julian tightly pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I''ve never thought of using other people''s lives in war to achieve something for myself or a few individuals. I don''t seek the restoration of the kingdom.


    What I fight for is justice, equality, and respect that should belong to us in this society but has been taken away from us!"


    "I am unwilling, I am in pain, I am angry!"


    "When I walk the streets, and those Ordinian or Provian eyes of disdain fall upon me, I feel like dying. I am the descendant of the great King Ordlero. We once conquered the world, and we should be respected, but we are not." His voice grew louder so that all could hear him.


    He waved his fist and shouted, "No one respects us! We only receive mockery, ridicule, and contempt! Whose fault is this? Is it the Ordinian''s fault? Is it because the Star Empire defeated us that we lost all this? Should we blame them?" Julian waved his arm fiercely.


    "No! This is not the fault of the Ordinians, nor the Star Empire. It is our fault."


    "Someone threw a dog''s food bowl in front of us, and some of us knelt down, eating the food from the bowl like dogs. How could they possibly treat us as equals, how could they respect us?"


    "They are poor, content to be poor, content to receive relief food, content to wallow in such an environment. They kneel on the ground, crouching by the dog''s bowl, barking when they don''t get their way, wagging their tails when they do."


    Julian pulled his gaze back and continued to shout, "There''s a question you may have already been asked, and today, I ask you the same thing: ''Do you want happiness?''" This was the slogan the church used to entice ordinary people into their chapels. It had once even been printed in the most authoritative imperial magazine, The Pioneer.


    Many were drawn by this slogan and walked into the church, becoming its followers. When Julian asked this, many people couldn''t help but nod.


    Poor neighborhoods were always the church''s main targets for expansion. The church knew well that while the rich might join, they would never sincerely devote everything to the church. Because they were rich, they had fewer emotional and life deficiencies than the poor. As long as they had money, they were happy, and money was their happiness.


    Thus, the church preferred to spread its message in places where the poor gathered, attracting more people and expanding its divine power.


    This phrase had circulated on this street more than once, and everyone had heard it before. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian nodded slightly in acknowledgment, his face serious and his eyes sharp. "I cannot give you happiness!" The crowd murmured in confusion. This statement was in stark contrast to the previous one. Many people had nodded, hoping for happiness, only to find Julian now saying he couldn''t give it to them. The abrupt shift made them feel deceived, though they hadn''t erupted just yet.


    Julian smirked slightly and said, "Because happiness is never something that anyone can give you. It''s something you must strive for with your own hands. And that, too, is why I''m here! While some people still willingly become wagging dogs, accepting the fate handed to them and begging for food from others, there''s already a group of people who have stood up.


    They use their hands, their lives, and fight with everything they have to pursue happiness.


    "Some may mock them as fools: ''Look at them, they died for nothing.'' But I''m here to tell you that they are not fools. Those who carry hope for the future, who live their lives passionately, can never be looked down upon by those who are already dead inside while still alive! No one, no one, can look down on a warrior. They haven''t left us.


    They''ve only become spirits, accompanying me, guiding those willing to rise, to break free from hardship, and create our own glory!"


    Julian jumped off the stool and walked to the two mothers, once again grasping their hands tightly. "No one can mock your children because they are heroes!"


    ...


    After crossing several intersections, by the time Julian drove away, a large crowd had already gathered on the street to see him off. In their eyes, there was a long lost sense of anticipation, as if the sky itself had split open because of this man named Julian. Brilliant colors broke through the heavy, gray clouds, falling to earth and bathing the world in a dazzling glow.


    Julian withdrew his gaze from the car''s rear windshield, sat upright, and adjusted his clothes. He had spent a lot of money today, but every penny was necessary. He recalled in one of his dreams, where he had met many powerful and varied people, a particular individual whose words left a deep impression on him.


    That man was a professor. Julian wasn''t entirely sure what he taught, but the prominent figure Julian often saw in his dreams held him in high regard. After a social gathering over tea, the professor said something memorable to the influential man:


    "When people construct a building, they consider every possible and impossible contingency. So, they make the structure as grand and solid as possible. Earthquakes, tsunamis, floods¡ªnothing can easily destroy it. You have to build your business empire with the same foresight, because once it''s up and running, the wolves will already be waiting outside, and you''ll have no chance to go out and fix it."

 Chapter 102 - 102 Discovering The Immense Opportunity At His Hands

    "But even so, you still have to be wary, because the wolves aren''t your biggest worry. If someone wants to destroy it from the inside, tampering with just a few critical points will cause the entire structure to collapse at an unimaginable speed."


    For a long time, Julian''s lasting impression of the professor''s words was tied to a desire for destruction. He wanted to test whether, as the professor claimed, merely targeting a few key points could bring down a solid structure. But in this moment, what he thought of was something else¡ªpower.


    The building the professor had described seemed eerily similar to the present-day society of the Star Empire. The Empire''s framework and rules had been in place for many years, with annual revisions and reinforcements. Even the recently concluded War of the Nations showcased this resilience. It was difficult to destroy this colossal "building" from the outside. So, what about from the inside?


    Of course, as Julian had promised, he didn''t seek regime change. He knew he lacked the power to achieve such a feat. What he needed was to build his own set of rules, his own inner structure within the existing framework. His identity and bloodline were his building materials.


    Anyone aiming for greater heights must be fully prepared. The Guar were a minority in Ternell city, few in number and poor, but they had something others lacked¡ªthey had been pushed to the brink, and that was precisely what Julian needed.


    He hadn''t lied. He would lead everyone toward happiness, but only under the condition that these people were his "followers"¡ªhis "own people."


    It was at this moment that Julian suddenly realized why Heidler had supported his creation of the guild and was willing to fund it. Heidler needed this force too. In ancient Guar mythology, there was a parable called "The Sea of Sparks." It wasn''t about another world or some celestial body floating in space, but rather about a single spark that ignited a catastrophic fire.


    The parable described a thriving city that was destroyed by a single spark from an oil mill.


    Ternell city was the oil mill, and the Guar were the spark.


    Julian''s eyes lit up. He closed his eyes, and Dave immediately instructed the driver to slow down, sensing that Julian had likely thought of something important.


    What had Julian thought of?


    He had thought of something deeper, thanks to what he had seen and experienced in his dreams, which were now gradually coming into use.


    At this time, the Empire had not yet recovered from its pyrrhic victory in the War of the Nations. Rumor had it that anti-government armed forces were emerging across various regions, actively seeking either restoration or independence, further exhausting the already weary Empire.


    On the political stage, the New Faction was loudly advocating for constitutional monarchy, overthrowing one noble after another. Even His Majesty the Emperor had no choice but to make concessions in the face of this sudden political storm.


    In such an internally and externally troubled environment, what was most important?


    Stability.


    Whether it was the nobles labeled as the Old Faction or the reformists known as the New Faction, they both sought stability. The essence of their conflict lay in their desire to resolve the current chaos and eliminate corruption.


    Although the Guar were a small and seemingly insignificant part of the Empire, in Ternell city, though a minority, they were a force that could not be ignored. Previously, no one had united them. Firstly, the feudal system was inherently more cautious and harsh toward outsiders, making it too dangerous for anyone to try uniting them.


    Even those who had the thought didn''t dare act on it, and no one else dared respond.


    Secondly, there was no suitable leader. While Heidler was wealthy and held significant influence in the Empire''s upper circles, he was "unreliable." As the descendant of traitors and with the stark class disparity, he lacked the foundation to unify the Guar. Among the Guar, there was no one who could lead them out of the shadows.


    Dreamers might exist, but dreamers never become the mainstream, nor could they lead the charge, like a cannon in a dream.


    But Julian¡ªhe was an exception.


    He was the son of a farmer, or rather, a commoner, not much different from the countless ordinary Guar. He had improved his own circumstances through his own efforts and changed his fate. Naturally, he became a symbol, a guide, and ultimately the one who could lead the way. Heidler had seen this in him, which is why he was willing to support him.


    With this realization, Julian''s previously uncertain thoughts about the future suddenly became clear. Ternell city would be his starting point, radiating out to the whole of Kanus, and eventually, the entire Empire!


    The car quickly disappeared at the end of the street, and the crowd slowly dispersed, though many of their eyes were still gleaming with excitement.


    Early the next morning, Dave knocked on Julian''s door.


    Although Gador might no longer pose an immediate threat, caution was still necessary. Julian was staying in a residential home.


    He rubbed his face, got out of bed, and put on a clean, freshly ironed shirt¡ªpressed by the landlady, for which he had paid twenty-five cents. He opened the door and looked at Dave. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "This morning, at least fifty people have expressed interest in joining the Fellowship guild. So many people showed up that I didn''t dare make a decision. What do you think we should do?" Dave''s face was filled with excitement. Everyone wants to have power, for only by becoming strong can one resist the whims of fate!


    "Having people want to join is definitely a good thing. It means that, to some extent, we now have the strength to represent the majority. Let them join. I''ll meet with everyone tonight," Julian said. Dave nodded and turned to leave, but when he was halfway down the stairs, Julian called him back. "Wait a minute.


    Don''t let them join the Fellowship guild right now. Instead, hire them as employees under the company''s name and have them start by delivering goods."

 Chapter 103 - 103 Vivian

    Calling Dave back was a result of Julian''s careful consideration. Just moments after agreeing to let those people join the guild, he suddenly realized a problem¡ªno matter the form or purpose, in many people''s eyes, a guild like this would be seen as a gang. As Graf had once put it, this was a gang, not just a community organization with a different agenda. It was a gang.


    Julian didn''t oppose this idea, but he didn''t fully support it either. Where the sun doesn''t shine, shadows inevitably exist. However, he didn''t want a future where the first thing people associated with his name was the title of a gang leader. It wasn''t that he looked down on such a role; rather, he needed more "business cards" and wanted to minimize negative associations as much as possible.


    Thus, light and darkness needed to be separated from the chaos and held in each of his hands.


    One hand for light.


    One hand for darkness.


    Some people are born to carve a path through blood and fire, but others are not suited for such a road. Julian had made bold promises and couldn''t force those unsuited for this path to march toward their deaths. Instead, he would place them on the side of the light, making them employees of the company. This not only resolved confidentiality issues but also fulfilled his commitments.


    Julian''s sudden change of heart didn''t surprise Dave. Dave knew he wasn''t a smart man, so he merely needed to follow orders. He nodded, turned, and left. Julian went back inside to freshen up and prepare to go out.


    He glanced at the morning newspaper Dave had brought, its bold, black headline reading "Victory of Justice." Below the headline was an image of Kevin embracing that girl in court.


    They had won the case, especially after Kevin presented additional evidence, had two witnesses supplement their testimonies, and produced the "killer''s" confession letter, which dealt a decisive blow to Camille and secured their victory.


    There were still some unresolved questions in this case, but as Kevin had said before the trial, when the majority wants to be on the side of justice, justice will stand beside them.


    The judge knew there were still issues with the case, but under pressure from public opinion and higher authorities, he declared the girl not guilty, effectively sentencing Camille career to "death." The public cheered, the "justice-loving" citizens celebrated, and even the elites breathed a sigh of relief. A win-win, right?


    As for minorities like Camille...


    Sometimes, justice is "sacrifice."


    Kevin had already left Ternell, heading to the Empire''s capital to begin his new journey, thus putting a perfect end to his past.


    Now, Julian too had to tie up the loose ends of this sudden series of events.


    ...


    "Dear, what happened to your wrist?" The mayor of Ternell, Peter Turner, asked as he sipped his milk tea, laced with fresh cream and sugar. He had noticed the bruise on his wife Vivian''s wrist. Reaching out to grab her hand, she pulled away.


    Peter Turner, an Ordinian born into the middle class, had graduated from the Empire''s Second Military Academy before making a name for himself. Initially assigned to the Canus-Ordo Army Logistics Unit, he later transferred to the military police, where he met Vivian, propelling his rapid rise from soldier to politician, eventually becoming mayor.


    Outwardly, he was an attractive middle-aged man, with meticulously groomed hair and a face radiating mature male charm, enough to attract many women.


    He kept in excellent shape, and his authority imbued him with an air of gravitas¡ªhe was an incredibly charismatic figure.


    When his wife pulled her hand away, Peter merely smiled, though he felt a hint of annoyance. His face, however, betrayed nothing. He still relied on his bedridden father-in-law for many things, so he tolerated his wife''s impoliteness with a gracious smile.


    "I just got it caught accidentally; it''s no big deal," Vivian said, a flicker of displeasure in her eyes. Her father had once warned her that this was never going to be a happy marriage.


    Ambitious men may be charming and make for pleasurable lovers in the short term, but they do not make the best partners. At the time, she hadn''t understood what he meant, and she married Peter without hesitation. Now, however, she understood all too well.


    Peter smiled and nodded. "Be more careful in the future. If there''s anything that needs doing, let the servants handle it. You just supervise."


    Vivian gave a faint, insincere smile, nodded in agreement, and excused herself with, "I''m full." She stood and left. Peter glanced at the untouched breakfast on her plate and shook his head.


    Vivian was deeply frustrated. Even though she knew her mayor husband had lovers outside the home¡ªpossibly more than one¡ªshe still wished he would at least come home at night to maintain a semblance of dignity between them.


    Last night, he hadn''t returned, and even though he emerged from the study this morning, stretching and claiming he had slept there to avoid disturbing her, she knew full well he hadn''t come home until dawn. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At this thought, she let out a cold laugh and ordered the butler to prepare her car. She was going to see Delier, and that delightful young fellow.


    The bruise on her wrist was a remnant of their last passionate encounter. On the surface, Vivian appeared strong and composed, always displaying a gentle smile, but deep down, she was a fiercely dominant person. She enjoyed conquering young men, or perhaps¡­ being conquered.


    Thinking of Jon, her heart stirred with anticipation.


    This marriage had been a twisted political arrangement from the start. Perhaps she had once loved Peter, but she had long since woken up.


    When she saw Delier, whose face was still swollen and bruised, she recalled her earlier instructions and casually said, "Those three people you mentioned have been found. If you want to do anything, I''ve already avenged you."


    Delier flashed a perfect smile before inhaling sharply and saying, "I truly cannot thank you enough, but I have a small request, though it may be a bit impolite..."

 Chapter 104 - 104 The Root Of The Problem Wasnt Vivian

    Delier wanted to personally exact revenge on the thugs who had nearly ruined his handsome face, but Lady Vivian didn''t give his request much thought. In her eyes, this was just how Delier was unable to differentiate between important and trivial matters, and never learning the kind of tolerance that only upper class people possessed. So, without hesitation, she agreed to his request.


    To her, this was truly a minor issue.


    "This is my card. Take it to the district police station and look for Chief Pronto. State your request, and he will help you settle the score," Lady Vivian said as she pulled a gilded card from her small handbag. Casually, she grabbed the pen from Delier''s chest pocket, where it served as decoration, and wrote her name and the date on the card.


    In upper society, men liked to use calling cards, which they designed in various ways to reflect their personality. Some cards were grand and ostentatious, while others were subtle and restrained. There was even a book once published, titled Personality Through Cards, which sold well for two years.


    Women, on the other hand, preferred using calling cards, with one letter''s difference in the term between men and women, yet a vast distinction in meaning. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Calling cards for men had their own set of rules¡ªsize, thickness, even the colors and embellishments all followed specific guidelines. But calling cards for women were much more flexible, aside from a few essential considerations. For example, Lady Vivian''s card was about eight centimeters wide and twelve centimeters long, made from soft yet resilient paper.


    The edges were gilded with gold leaf, forming a vine pattern that represented her noble lineage. According to the rhetoric of the New Faction, only a decayed aristocrat¡ªat least of earl rank¡ªhad the right to emboss their cards with gold.


    At the top of the gilded vine was a blooming flower, the crest of Lady Vivian''s family. Inside the vine were images of a green field and a blue sky that took up most of the space.


    She signed her name and wrote the date, which was key. Before the New Faction overthrew the decaying feudal regime, aristocratic calling cards had a fearsome authority and influence.


    Once, a farmer who had never attended a single day of school managed to obtain the calling card of a high-ranking imperial figure and used it to scam his way through a remote area, eventually making off with tens of thousands of gold coins.


    Since then, aristocrats began signing and dating their calling cards.


    After the New Faction toppled the old feudal system and established a new order, dating these cards lost much of its significance. Official matters were now handled through more formal documents, and aristocratic calling cards had lost their former power. Nonetheless, many aristocrats still signed and dated their cards out of nostalgia, as a symbol of maintaining their noble status.


    A pitiful symbol.


    Delier took the card and left. Not long after, "Jon" appeared before Lady Vivian''s eyes. She smiled and walked toward him. "Have you been waiting long?" she asked, her hand gently smoothing a small crease on his collar. Then she affectionately linked her arm with his and walked with him into the art gallery. "Sorry for calling you here so suddenly.


    I just didn''t know what else to do¡­"


    The two gradually disappeared into the depths of the gallery, and when the heavy bronze doors closed shut behind them, not a sound could be heard.


    Meanwhile, Delier, holding the calling card, found Pronto. Pronto took the card and carefully examined it several times before reluctantly confirming it was indeed Lady Vivian''s card. He had his methods of verifying such things, and as the district police chief, it was a skill he had to have.


    After placing the card in his drawer, Pronto leaned back, his hands resting on the desk, and looked up at Delier. "So¡­ what is it you want from me?"


    Delier touched his cheek, feeling a sting that made his eye twitch slightly. He still hadn''t forgotten how those three thugs had suddenly jumped him, beating him up and robbing him of the "hush money" he had received from Julian. The physical pain and financial loss filled him with hatred, and to Pronto''s surprise, he actually smiled. "I want to see those three guys suffer, do you understand?"


    "Which three?" Pronto asked impatiently. He was well aware that Lady Vivian was a powerful figure, far more influential than he was. But that didn''t mean every person holding her card could come in and push him around¡ªhe was, after all, the district police chief! But just as he furrowed his brow, a cold sweat ran down the side of his face.


    Everything had happened so quickly, as if that drop of sweat had been waiting for this very moment.


    Delier''s next words confirmed Pronto''s fears.


    "The one with three moles on his face, and his two accomplices!"


    Damn it!


    That was Pronto''s first reaction. To avoid trouble with Gador, he had subtly suggested that Gador find three random people to take the blame. He planned to turn a blind eye, make a gesture, and everything would be brushed under the rug. And besides, Lady Vivian''s description of the suspects had been so vague and abstract, resembling modern art more than an actual portrait.


    Since she wasn''t likely to personally follow up on the matter, Pronto had figured that as long as he fudged the details, it would all blow over.


    He hadn''t been wrong¡ªLady Vivian had nearly forgotten about the issue by the next day. It was such a minor affair that she didn''t feel the need to keep it in mind. If she hadn''t seen the bruises on Delier''s face, she might not have even remembered it at all.


    But the root of the problem wasn''t Lady Vivian¡ªit was Delier.


    Pronto''s gaze grew sharp as he glared at Delier. Usually, Delier was the type to raise his chin arrogantly, mutter something about "vulgar commoners," and leave with a haughty air, refusing to stoop to Pronto''s level. But now, under the intense stare of the police chief, Delier shifted uncomfortably and averted his gaze. "You mean Corder¡­" Pronto began.


    Delier nodded, and Pronto continued, "I''m afraid you''re too late. They''ve already been transferred to Ternell City''s district prison. Without the warden''s permission, not even I can see them."

 Chapter 105 - 105 Make Sure Their Faces Are Unrecognizable

    Delier was taken aback; he hadn''t expected that.


    Though the police and prison systems appeared closely linked, they were actually independent entities. As Pronto had said, without the warden''s consent, no one could see the prisoners. Even dismissing the warden required layers of bureaucratic approval, and by the time those papers passed through, it wouldn''t be surprising if a prisoner suddenly "died" along the way.


    The prison system might not be particularly powerful in the broader social structure, but once you crossed paths with it, you''d feel the weight of the "independent king" authority it wielded.


    In prison, inmates often referred to the warden as "His Majesty the King" because every rule and regulation was dictated by the warden alone.


    Wardens had near-absolute authority within the prison, but outside of it¡­ they were nobodies, especially when unrelated to their domain.


    Though this situation was troublesome, it wasn''t as dire as Pronto made it seem. He had exaggerated the truth, using a small detail to muddle the facts. In reality, he and the district prison warden were good friends, with no reason for the warden to deny him a visit. Pronto''s real aim was to deter Delier from pursuing the matter any further, to avoid any potential mishaps.


    However, Pronto had overlooked one key detail: this wasn''t Delier''s issue alone. Normally, Delier would have scoffed, thrown his head back with a haughty sneer, and left with a dismissive comment. But the problem now was that it wasn''t just Delier pushing for this¡ªit was Julian.


    The memory of Julian''s merciless beating, when he had been tied to a chair, filled Delier with dread. He decided to stay and take this matter seriously.


    "If you can''t do it, then return the calling card to me, and I''ll go speak to the warden myself," Delier said, flipping his wrist so that his palm faced upward, rolling his eyes as he gazed at the ceiling.


    Pronto was silently cursing, though his face remained composed, upholding the demeanor of a police chief. He opened his drawer and placed his hand on the card but didn''t take it out. "Even if I gave it to you, there''s no guarantee the warden will let you see those three."


    Delier, no stranger to the ways of the world, scoffed, still staring at the ceiling. "You don''t have to give it to me, but I can always go back to Lady Vivian for another. I''ll also make sure to tell her everything that happened here."


    At these words, Pronto raised his arm and placed the card on the desk, though he still didn''t hand it to Delier. He needed to try a bit harder. "I sincerely apologize. Until now, I didn''t catch your name¡­ Delier? Very well, Mr. Delier.


    I can give you the card, but have you considered how you''ll get the warden to cooperate? He''s a rather¡­ difficult man¡ªdangerous and rude. How about this?"


    Pronto''s brain whirled at the speed of a man caught cheating by his wife. If someone were to place their ear against his head, they might even hear the sound of his brain overwroking; "I''ll accompany you, card in hand, and we''ll go see the warden together. I''ll persuade him to agree to your request.


    After all, you''re asking to vent your anger on people who are already under his control, which is a bit disrespectful to him, don''t you think?"


    Pronto''s words flowed more smoothly as he smiled. "You''ve probably heard that the prisoners call the warden ''King.'' To those inmates, the warden is like their sovereign, and you''re asking to punish his ''subjects.'' So, this will need some tactful negotiation. Fortunately, I have a decent relationship with the warden and should be able to convince him.


    This way, you''ll get your chance to settle the score!"


    Delier hesitated for a moment before finally nodding. "But you''d better hurry. I need to meet Lady Vivian by five this evening. If I''m late, the one in trouble won''t be me."


    "No problem!" Pronto secretly breathed a sigh of relief, handing the card to Delier and then stepping out from behind his desk. "Sit tight for a moment while I make a few arrangements. We''ll be on our way in less than five minutes, and we''ll take my police car."


    Having achieved his goal, Delier decided not to cause any more fuss. He sat at the bar inside the office and, thanks to Pronto''s hospitality, was even served a drink.


    That "five minutes" ended up stretching into nearly fifteen. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As soon as Pronto left his office, he immediately sought out an old officer he was familiar with. He didn''t dare approach a younger cop¡ªhe knew too well the irritating sense of justice that recent police academy graduates or former soldiers possessed. A police officer needed a sense of justice, yes, but it had to be exercised at the right time.


    People who were always bursting with moral righteousness would only make a mess of things.


    "Have Corder and his crew been transferred yet?" Pronto asked as they descended the stairs to the first floor. The old officer nodded, confirming that Corder and his gang had been gone for about an hour. This answer put Pronto completely at ease.


    From the police station to the district prison, the transport vehicle would need to cross the entire city and then drive another twenty kilometers out of town to reach the prison''s perimeter.


    The transport didn''t move quickly¡ªnot because of bad roads or faulty vehicles, but because of an unspoken rule. Sometimes, along the route to the prison, relatives, friends, or even gang bosses would wait by the roadside to pass along final messages or soothe the inmates. During these informal meetings, it wasn''t uncommon for the police officers escorting the prisoners to receive a few "benefits."


    Cash was the most common gift¡ªsmall amounts like thirty or fifty dollars, sometimes even a hundred. In addition to money, there might also be cigarettes and alcohol. Escorting prisoners could be quite profitable, so the officers would drive as slowly as they could, wishing the trip could take as long as possible.


    By Pronto''s calculations, the transport had only just left the city.


    Pronto looked around cautiously, then lowered his voice. "Go find Gador and tell him there''s been a change of plans. He needs to intercept the transport and beat the hell out of those three guys¡ªmake sure their faces are unrecognizable. You go with him."


    The old officer''s face turned serious as he nodded vigorously. "Got it. Find Gador and make sure those three get beaten beyond recognition. I''ll go with them."


    "Good," Pronto praised. "Just don''t kill them, but make sure no one can recognize their faces. Get him to do it immediately. Afterward, you head straight to the prison. If you see my police car, wait outside."


    "Understood¡ªdon''t kill them, head to the prison, and if you''re there, I''ll wait. If not, I''ll stop the transport." The old officer slightly modified the plan, but Pronto didn''t object.

 Chapter 106 - 106 What Exactly Are You After

    Pronto patted the man''s shoulder, straightened his collar, and dusted him off. "This has to go off without a hitch. Do this right, and Gador will make sure you''re well-rewarded. When old Anders retires, you''d better be ready."


    The old officer shivered. Anders was the chief of one of the four police precincts in Ternell city. While precinct chiefs didn''t wield immense power, this promotion would be a major step up. It meant that one day, he could aspire to become the district police chief.


    Even if he didn''t achieve that, he''d still have considerable authority within his precinct, and power often had a funny way of turning into wealth. For a man nearing middle age like this old officer, power and money were all that mattered.


    Watching the old officer hurry away, Pronto breathed a sigh of relief. He ducked into the records room and kept an eye on the clock, waiting for about ten minutes. After estimating that the old officer had had enough time to contact Gador, Pronto finally stepped out.


    He smiled as he pushed open the door to the chief''s office. "Kept you waiting, didn''t I? Sorry, work''s been crazy. Let''s get going!"


    When Delier got out of the car, he rubbed his backside, suspecting that the bumpy ride had split his rear. He had never seen a road in such poor condition. Besides the endless potholes, the ground was littered with stones of all sizes. While the police car might be sturdy, its comfort left much to be desired.


    Delier felt as if the car was about to take off, making him feel like he was traveling on a road to hell. He glanced at Pronto, who only smiled without saying much.


    They were traveling on a small road, which was longer, bumpier, and harder to navigate, with the clear intention of making Delier uncomfortable. When people feel miserable, the first thing they think of is home, no matter how rundown it might be. The meaning that home holds is entirely different. Comfort, warmth, and coziness seem to define the essence of home.


    After such a stark contrast, Delier might have seen those three brutally beaten men and immediately wanted to leave.


    The warden was just as Delier had imagined¡ªoverweight, with a protruding belly and a bald head. The oily sheen on his face made Delier feel somewhat disgusted. Particularly revolting was the warden''s nose hair, which was clearly visible, with one strand even poking out of a nostril, bobbing up and down as he breathed and spoke.


    Delier felt an overwhelming urge to grab a pair of scissors and trim it for him, as he was a man who liked cleanliness and elegance, someone with a refined, artistic temperament.


    The warden was very amiable, speaking with remarkable politeness, quite unlike the unreasonable person Pronto had described earlier. There was even coffee in his office. Delier had thought that aside from drinking, the warden did nothing else, and for that, he mentally apologized to the man.


    The wait was long. The warden informed Pronto and Delier that the three prisoners, including Corder, had not yet been transferred. As Delier listened to the vulgar and obscene jokes exchanged between Pronto and the warden, he felt like he was about to go insane. How could these men be so shameless as to make jokes about human anatomy? Did they have no sense of shame?


    Just when Delier was on the verge of losing his composure, the clock struck noon, and someone came to report that Corder and his friends were being processed for imprisonment. Delier sighed in relief¡ªfinally, he could proceed with his "duties."


    Before arriving, Julian had told him that no matter who he saw that resembled Corder, they were absolutely not Corder, because Corder was already "closely acquainted with the earth" in Julian''s hands. Delier was to insist that the three people he saw were impostors and report this information back to Mrs. Vivian.


    For this, Julian would pay him a thousand dollars and promise not to hit him for the next month.


    Likewise, if Delier failed, he would lose the thousand-dollar reward and would endure a "friendly" conversation with Julian every weekend for the next month. Whether for the money or to avoid being beaten, Delier resolved that even if the three people before him were the ones who had robbed and beaten him, he would still lie and claim they were not.


    However, Delier overlooked one crucial detail: Julian meant for him to report to Mrs. Vivian, not to make the declaration right there and then.


    When he saw the three men, barely able to stand and supporting each other as they walked past him, Delier felt no excitement, only fear, trembling, and a bone-chilling cold from the depths of his soul! At that moment, he realized that the consequences of what he said to Mrs. Vivian would affect not only Gador but also Pronto, the head of the local police, and possibly even the warden. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Yet he had no choice but to go through with it, even though he knew full well what the consequences would be.


    "They are not the ones who robbed me, absolutely not!" Delier''s voice was cold and "aloof" as he spoke, like a solitary flower standing against the cold wind and snow.


    Pronto and the warden exchanged glances, remaining silent for a long while. No matter how they examined the faces of the three men, they could not find any resemblance to "humans," let alone think of them as actual people. How, then, had this dandy been able to identify them as the wrong men?


    A dangerous glint flashed in the warden''s eyes. As the sovereign ruler within the prison, he knew that once someone entered its walls, their life no longer belonged to them¡ªit belonged to him. If he wanted Delier dead, he wouldn''t even need to speak.


    A mere glance would suffice, and his subordinates would make a "mistake" in their duties, allowing a prisoner to break free and take Delier hostage, resulting in the tragic "death" of both the captor and the captive.


    Pronto, momentarily tempted, quickly dismissed the warden''s idea. Delier might be insignificant, but behind this flea was a lioness. Crushing the flea would be as easy as the lioness crushing them. Killing Delier was not a difficult task¡ªPronto himself had many ways to make Delier "accidentally" die. But the problem was that Delier had Mrs.


    Vivian''s attention, and if anything happened to him before he returned to her, Pronto would bear the brunt of the responsibility.


    Not wanting to jeopardize himself because of the warden''s rashness, Pronto did not support that decision.

 Chapter 107 - 107 Prontos Suspicion

    "Perhaps you made a mistake." Pronto pulled out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, then removed it and slightly raised his hand in a polite, gentlemanly gesture, as if seeking Delier''s approval. Delier shrugged and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his bag as well. Pronto leaned closer, "Look at them¡ªthey''ve been beaten to a pulp. It''s quite normal to mistake them for someone else.


    Did you notice the man with the three moles on his face?"


    Delier followed Pronto''s gaze and saw that one of the men indeed had three moles on his cheek, but he knew full well that these three were not the men he was looking for.


    Seeing Delier''s silence, Pronto tilted his head slightly, and the two of them moved aside.


    "What exactly are you hoping to get from me?"


    If Pronto hadn''t realized there was something amiss by now, he wouldn''t be fit for his position as the police chief!


    During his time as police chief in Ternell City, Pronto had encountered far more complex individuals than the average person. It was precisely because of his extensive experience and his position in the political arena that he sharply caught on to something¡ªDelier likely didn''t actually know those three men.


    Especially when Delier saw the three disfigured individuals, barely recognizable as human, and yet could immediately declare their identities as false, Pronto understood.


    Delier didn''t know those men, but he knew exactly what to say, indicating that Delier''s desire to "vent" wasn''t his true intention. He must have had another agenda. This realization only deepened Pronto''s confusion. Whether it was extorting him, the regional police chief, or trying to blackmail the gang leader Gador, neither seemed like a good option for someone like Delier.


    Delier couldn''t rely on Mrs. Vivian''s protection forever, and to Vivian, Delier was likely replaceable. Using his life as leverage to extort two people he couldn''t afford to offend¡ªwas he insane, or did he have another plan?


    That''s why Pronto pulled him aside and bluntly asked, "What exactly do you want from me?" The smile disappeared from his face, replaced by a cold, sinister expression. "Whatever you''re after, name your price. This isn''t a one-man game¡ªit takes multiple players to complete the final deal."


    Delier froze for a moment and looked away. "I don''t know what you''re talking about."


    "You do!" Pronto''s tone was harsh, and he let out a cold laugh. "Do you want money? Are you here on behalf of someone whose name can''t be spoken to get someone out? Or have you done something that you need to cover up in this way? Spit it out, and I''ll consider it."


    In this situation, Pronto actually became more cautious the more direct Delier was. Delier''s hesitation, fear, and slight cowardice revealed an opportunity to Pronto.


    He couldn''t afford to offend Mrs. Vivian, but Delier was another matter. Sure, Delier was associated with Vivian, but people in society have different values. Between a regional police chief and an art gallery director, it was obvious who held more weight. If Pronto went too far with Delier, Vivian might take it out on him.


    But anger wasn''t the same as hatred; anger was temporary and would fade with time. Pronto figured he could make up for Vivian''s anger in his own way, but the uncertainty from Delier''s silence tormented him.


    He was desperate to know what Delier was really after.


    Delier''s face twitched. As he felt Pronto''s intense and threatening gaze piercing him, his heart began to race, his body heated up, and his back started to sweat. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. The next second, a great force slammed into him, sending him crashing against the wall.


    With a loud thud, Delier''s face twisted in pain. Pronto grabbed him by the collar and lifted him, pressing him firmly against the wall.


    "My patience is limited, and I don''t enjoy playing guessing games. You can stay silent, but you need to understand where you are. There are at least two thousand filthy men here who can''t wait to tear you apart. I can''t guarantee you''ll walk out of here on your own two feet, and your choice determines everything."


    If the situation was simple, Mrs. Vivian might just say a few bad things about him to the mayor. But if things were more serious, Delier''s statements could cause Pronto to lose something irreplaceable.


    Since that was the case, why not take a gamble?


    Dizzy and aching as if his back had split open, Delier''s face turned pale. The sweat on his heavily made-up face couldn''t stay put and rolled directly onto Pronto''s hand. Gritting his teeth, Delier groaned for about ten seconds before finally shouting, "I''ll talk, let me go, let me go!"


    Pronto released him, stepped back, and took the cigarette from his mouth, placing it between Delier''s lips. "I''m listening."


    Delier nervously took a drag from the cigarette, his trembling hand removing it from his lips. His eyes darted around before he finally said, "I want money, a lot of money..."


    Bang!


    Pronto''s fist slammed into the wall next to Delier''s face. "You''re lying!"


    His judgment was based on two things: First, while Delier''s art gallery might seem prestigious, it didn''t generate much direct profit beyond occasionally teaching students. But Pronto knew that several wealthy women liked to buy "elegant" and incomprehensible art pieces from Delier''s gallery. Those paintings and sculptures might not be to Pronto''s taste, but they sold for staggering sums.


    With those patrons, Delier, as the gallery director, wasn''t short of money. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Second, trying to extort wealth from either him or Gador with such crude tactics was too low-level and immature. With Mrs. Vivian''s influence, Delier could easily have money sent his way just by her saying a word.


    So Pronto was sure Delier was lying, which only made him more nervous!


    Delier was on the verge of tears. His lips quivered violently as he repeatedly muttered, "It''s true, it''s true!"


    Pronto''s narrowed eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. He was starting to suspect that someone had set a trap for him, and that like a fool, he had walked right into it. His breathing became heavier as he leaned in closer to Delier, their noses almost touching. "I won''t ask who you work for. Once I turn around, I''ll forget everything I''ve said and heard. No matter the outcome, I guarantee your safety."


    Seeing that Delier still refused to speak the truth, Pronto drew his gun and pressed it under Delier''s chin. "You have one minute to decide whether to talk, but once you make your choice, don''t regret it!"

 Chapter 108 - 108 Pronto Extricate Himself From The Game

    Delier''s barely noticeable Adam''s apple made a clear movement as he gulped dryly, torn between his inner struggle.


    To speak or not to speak¡ªthat was the question.


    If he spoke, who knew what that brute Julian would do to him? He certainly didn''t want any marks on his flawless face, nor did he want to endure the beatings that Julian seemed so fond of dishing out every few days.


    But if he stayed silent... the cold metal barrel pressed against his chin made it difficult to breathe. This was a life-or-death situation!


    Faced with the choice between a beating and his life, Delier, as always, chose self-preservation without hesitation.


    He whispered a name¡ªGador!


    Pronto''s eyes lit up instantly. He quickly holstered his gun, and the friendly smile returned to his face. Cheerfully, he started to fix Delier''s clothes, though Delier recoiled in fear.


    Pronto clasped his belly and began apologizing profusely for his rash behavior, though inside, his mind was racing.


    Someone was targeting Gador¡ªthis wasn''t news.


    Ever since Gador had made a name for himself in Ternell City, there had been numerous threats against him, but he was still alive and well, wasn''t he?


    But this time felt different. Pronto immediately thought of how Gador was just one step away from becoming a major player, and perhaps someone didn''t want him to cross that threshold. This wasn''t merely speculation; the upper echelons of society were rife with cutthroat competition, though the methods used there differed from the violence seen among the lower classes.


    In high society, they wore masks and hid knives in their cloaks, smiling and shaking hands while plunging blades into each other''s chests.


    At the heart of it all was "resources."


    The term "tycoon" might be loosely understood by the common folk as simply "the rich," living lavish lives without a care for money. However, in the elite circles, being a tycoon meant much more than having wealth¡ªit was about political power.


    True tycoons weren''t after money but political resources.


    There were only so many officials and so much power in places like Ternell and Kanros State, which naturally made political resources scarce and highly sought after.


    Take Wood, for example. He was a tycoon, but that didn''t mean his life was one of constant indulgence. No, he actively contributed to the Old Party¡ªsociety''s nickname for the current aristocratic power structure. In exchange for his political donations, he earned the support of political figures, positioning himself to potentially become one of them in the elections two years down the road. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A politician who wanted to maintain their status couldn''t afford to support just anyone who threw money at them. They needed to make calculated choices, ensuring loyalty and dedication from their supporters. This politician, to the tycoons, represented the very political resources they were fighting over.


    Gador had a powerful boss behind him, which everyone with any sense knew. His boss wasn''t just influential; he had deep political connections. If Gador crossed that final threshold and became a player in the "new game," it would dilute the available political resources. His boss would undoubtedly support him, making him an asset in future elections or political events.


    With the next round of elections fast approaching, it wasn''t impossible that someone, threatened by Gador''s potential rise, would try to prevent him from advancing. After all, even a slim chance of losing a critical supporter couldn''t be ignored. In such a case, the mysterious adversary would do whatever it took to stop Gador, knocking him down before he could take that next step.


    If there even was a next time.


    In that instant, Pronto felt like everything had clicked into place. He cursed himself internally. Why had he meddled in Gador''s affairs in the first place? If Julian wanted to frame Gador, so be it. While there was a chance Pronto might have been caught in the crossfire, it was far better than getting stuck in this elaborate trap.


    Of course, Pronto hadn''t managed to secure his position as police chief in Ternell City by being foolish. He had his own "resources" and at least a reasonably functioning brain.


    He quickly made a decision and breathed a sigh of relief. Things hadn''t yet spiraled into an irreparable situation. In fact, he had every opportunity to cleanly extricate himself from the mess¡ªand it would be Gador who paid the price.


    Pronto immediately grabbed Delier and headed back to Ternell City, waiting for the chance to clear his name.


    When Mrs. Vivian, with a mischievous smile and a healthy flush on her face, stepped out of Delier''s art gallery, she unexpectedly saw both Pronto and Delier standing at the foot of the stairs, their heads lowered. She slowed her pace and stopped when she reached the third step.


    She chose silence, but Pronto couldn''t afford to. He stepped forward and, with his head still bowed, confessed his "mistake" to Mrs. Vivian. "I deeply apologize, madam. The three men arrested, including Corder, were confirmed to be impostors by Mr. Delier.


    This was a failure in my duty, and I must admit to my negligence. I hope you will punish me accordingly."


    Mrs. Vivian glanced down at Pronto with an air of indifference before turning her gaze to Delier. Quick to catch on, Delier explained, "It''s like this, madam. After visiting the regional prison, I realized that the three men were not the ones who robbed and brutally assaulted me. I have already explained this to Chief Pronto."


    Though somewhat irritated, Mrs. Vivian composed herself and asked, "Who sent the men?"


    Pronto stepped forward again, bowing even lower. "It was a citizen named Gador who delivered them. He claimed these three were Corder and his accomplices, the ones who robbed Mr. Delier. So, I¡ª"


    Mrs. Vivian cut him off with a nod, descended the stairs without a word, and climbed into her car, which swiftly disappeared down the street.


    Pronto exhaled deeply, wiping the sweat from his brow. He glanced at Delier, who still looked somewhat fearful, then patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you for your cooperation. I may have a temper sometimes, but I mean no harm."


    Delier''s lips twitched into a crooked smile.


    Later that evening, Mrs. Vivian set down her knife and fork, picked up a neatly folded napkin, and dabbed her full lips. She turned to her husband, who had been quietly eating his meal, and said, "I''ve heard there''s been a spate of robberies on the streets lately. Has the city''s security deteriorated so much?"


    Before the mayor could respond, Mrs. Vivian gave a small smile, leaned forward slightly, and then rose to leave.


    After she left, the mayor put down his cutlery and straightened up. His butler immediately leaned in.


    "Look into it!" he ordered.

 Chapter 109 - 109 Gador Benefactor

    "I have a bad feeling about this," Gador muttered as he paced nervously around the room. He rubbed his eyes, unable to shake the sensation of his eyelids twitching, an omen that something was off. One persistent question nagged at him¡ªwhere had Corder and Kent gone? He had mobilized all of his resources, searching every possible place, but they had vanished without a trace.


    Following Pronto''s instructions, Gador had picked three low-level gang members who were struggling to make ends meet, promising them promotions to captain and a cash reward once they got out. He had also beaten them to a pulp, just as Pronto had demanded. So far, no bad news had come his way. He and Pronto were in this together¡ªif Gador went down, Pronto wouldn''t escape either.


    Without Pronto''s cooperation, there was no way Gador could have gotten away with using three stand-ins to cover for the real culprits.


    But something still didn''t sit right with him. He wasn''t exactly a thinker, and the more he dwelled on it, the more frustrated he became.


    He thought about going to Wood for advice, but Pronto''s private warning echoed in his mind, making him reconsider. Wood had already been "eliminated." The moment he failed to handle this situation properly, his backers would have deemed him unfit. The big players needed effective tools, not ones that caused them headaches. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Gador had made it this far through his own hard work and his boss''s favor.


    Years ago, he had been nothing more than a low-ranking member of the gang, working with a few other young boys outside a theater, parking cars and cleaning horses for the big shots inside.


    It had been a rainy day when a distinguished man stepped out of his carriage. A servant had opened a black umbrella to shield the man''s face from view, but Gador had caught glimpses of his fine suit, polished boots, and the white scarf draped around his neck.


    As the man stepped into a puddle, muddy water splashed onto his pristine boots. While everyone else stood frozen, unsure of what to do, Gador instinctively knelt down and, in the pouring rain, used his sleeve to clean the man''s boots. When he finally looked up, he heard a raspy voice ask him, "What''s your name?"


    Suppressing his excitement, Gador flashed what he thought was his most perfect smile and replied, "Gador. My name is Gador!"


    The man had walked into the theater without another word, leaving Gador stunned. His companions looked at him oddly, but Gador simply waited under the theater''s awning, silently biding his time for the next opportunity.


    On the ninth day, a man in a trench coat and hat approached him, asking him one simple question.


    "Do you have the guts to kill?"


    Gador nodded vigorously. "Yes. A knife right here," he pointed to his chest, "and it''s over in one stroke!"


    The man handed him a slip of paper with two names, an address, and a time.


    Thirteen-year-old Gador had stolen the family''s only kitchen knife¡ªa badly worn one¡ªand spent the night by the well sharpening it. The next day, without resting, he went to the address on the note and waited for the two people who would change his fate.


    That was the day Gador gained a benefactor, and from then on, his rise was unstoppable.


    He wasn''t a thinker, but to the powerful, he was the perfect weapon. His boss had told him that if all went well, two years from now, he would back Gador to become the police chief of Ternell City. But first, Gador needed to clean up his act and groom a suitable, obedient successor.


    Not being much of a strategist, Gador usually did as he was told. After much deliberation, he decided to seek his boss''s counsel.


    An unremarkable car pulled into an alley. Two patrolling officers approached to tell the driver that parking was prohibited, but upon seeing the car''s insignia, they wisely chose to keep quiet and walked away.


    Gador walked through the alley, then crossed two more streets before arriving at a house near city hall. He knocked on the door.


    A white-haired, slightly curly butler in a well-tailored tailcoat with a bow tie opened the door. After giving Gador a once-over, he frowned slightly and shut the door. About three minutes later, the butler opened it again, this time stepping aside to allow Gador to enter.


    As Gador entered the modest house, he removed his hat and held it carefully in his arms. He followed the butler to the garden at the back. There, an old man dressed like a farmer, wearing glasses, was hunched over a potted plant, delicately snipping away at a branch with his shears. Neither the butler nor Gador spoke or made a sound.


    They stood quietly at the edge of the garden, watching as the elderly man worked for nearly an hour before finally putting down his shears.


    "What is it?" the old man asked, removing his dirt-covered gloves and washing his hands in a basin. "You know you shouldn''t be here."


    The raspy voice was the same one Gador had heard all those years ago. Instinctively, Gador lowered his head, drew in his chest, and bent his back, speaking with humility. "There''s something I don''t quite understand, so I''ve come to seek your guidance."


    The old man''s face remained expressionless. Someone of his stature shouldn''t even be meeting with Gador. But over the years, Gador had eliminated enough "unnecessary" people for him that he now occupied his current position. Tilting his head, the old man said, "Speak, I''m listening." As he spoke, he unfastened the buttons on his shoulders and headed toward the wooden door.


    Gador hurriedly stepped aside, following close behind.


    As they entered the study, Gador recounted every detail of the past few days, leaving nothing out. Just as the old man was changing out of his overalls, he froze mid-movement. In an instant, he backhanded Gador across the face, the slap echoing through the entire house. Footsteps could be heard scurrying upstairs as the old man''s expression softened slightly. He motioned toward the study door.


    "Get in here!" he barked.

 Chapter 110 - 110 The Councilor

    The study was rather ordinary, with no rare antiques or priceless collections; just three enormous bookshelves filled with all sorts of books. Some were relatively new, while others had worn covers exposing the linen underneath, used to reinforce the bindings. These hundreds of books were just a small portion of the elderly man''s collection, yet they were the most frequently read. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He had spent his life reading, meticulously going through every book he deemed valuable and leaving behind detailed notes.


    The elderly man had graduated from a prestigious university with outstanding character and scholarship. He had devoted his entire life to his work, rising and falling several times, and finally, before his retirement, he successfully became a councilor¡ªa councilor of Ternell City.


    The role of councilor was not a recent invention. It existed even during the era of feudal imperialism, though back then, they worked in the "Imperial United Council," often dealing with disputes between nobles and commoners or among nobles themselves. Occasionally, they would address state affairs, but the final word on these matters usually belonged to the emperor.


    After the New Party toppled the Old Party, the roles and powers of councilors and the council underwent massive changes. Considering that the empire was essentially built through prolonged conquests and looting by the Star Empire''s royal family, there were various levels of resistance across the regions.


    Most resisters were former nobility or privileged individuals from previous dynasties who refused to accept a life as commoners. These individuals often stirred up minor disturbances.


    This is where councilors came into play. They acted as the conduit for demands from the grassroots to the upper levels, conveying reasonable grievances from the public to the ears of those in power, prompting adjustments to regional policies. Simultaneously, they were the upper echelon''s means of understanding, controlling, and governing the localities, assisting in enforcing their rule.


    On the surface, the role of councilor seemed service-oriented, yet the power it wielded had expanded immensely over time. Their authority now rivaled, if not exceeded, that of a mayor. In an era when few could afford telegrams, and telephones were novelties in only a handful of cities, this role gave councilors considerable maneuvering space and convenience.


    With the added power to craft policies that governed the empire as a whole, their authority magnified even further.


    The elderly man slowly walked to his rattan chair, settling into it with precision. A quick flash of pain crossed his face before he resumed a composed expression. It was an old affliction; too many hours bent over in the garden left his back sore whenever he tried to straighten up. Oddly, he seemed to enjoy this brief moment of pain.


    "Do you know why I want to hit you?" he asked, taking a pair of copper-rimmed glasses from his chest pocket and polishing them with a piece of leather that could buy a hundred pairs of glasses. His glasses had two legs secured by slender silver strings hanging around his neck, much like many elderly middle-class men.


    Gador lowered his head without a word.


    The elderly man seemed like any other senior citizen. He enjoyed tending to his flowers and plants, spending his limited time caring for motionless greenery, basking in the sun by the window, reading a book... But Gador knew that behind this facade, there was another side to the man¡ªone that was frightening.


    The man wiped his glasses for a while, then positioned them on his nose. He slightly hunched forward, lowering his head as he peered at Gador through the gap between his glasses and the rims. "I knew you wouldn''t understand; you''re as foolish as you were twenty years ago¡ªbeyond saving!"


    Hearing these words, Gador let out a sigh of relief, knowing that he likely wouldn''t face any serious repercussions this time.


    It was an old topic. Twenty years ago, shortly after Gador began serving the elderly man, he had a brief meeting with him. During that meeting, someone had fired three shots at the man, leaving blood on the ground. However, the bullets hit Gador instead. The assassination had nearly sent Gador to meet his maker, but he survived, seizing the second most important opportunity in his life.


    Later in the hospital, the elderly man asked Gador why he had shielded him with his body instead of figuring out the best course of action. Gador, with a foolish smile, replied, "Because I''m stupid. I didn''t know what else to do, so I used my body to shield you."


    The elderly man wasn''t moved by this answer. As he left, he pointed at Gador, who was still bedridden, and from that moment on, Gador rose steadily within the underworld until today!


    Time is a profound mystery, constantly slipping away unnoticed, and as the years pass, yesterday feels like it''s still within reach.


    "Someone is out to get you, setting up a trap. What does it mean if you can''t locate those three people?" the man asked, glancing at Gador before angrily throwing a book at him. "It means those three people are either being controlled or are dead, you fool! Yet you actually followed the advice of Pronto and that Wood, messing everything up. You''re utterly hopeless!"


    The elderly man had spent his life in a world of schemes and deception. Upon hearing Gador''s account, he knew the fool had fallen into a trap.


    He quickly quieted, lost in thought, pondering whether this incident hinted at a deeper objective, perhaps¡­ him!


    It wasn''t improbable. As a former councilor of the Old Party, the situation in Kanros State was far from the peace it appeared to have. The new governor had been at odds with the former governor. Though the old man was now bedridden and unable to sit up, he still held a substantial portion of the province''s power.


    The old governor was Old Party, while the new governor was New Party. Naturally, the new governor wouldn''t tolerate his authority being held by a bedridden old man, leading to multiple confrontations. With the upcoming mid-term election, if the governor started cutting the Old Party''s influence from the ground up, it would pose a significant threat to the Old Party in Kanros.


    Whether the incident involving Gador was an isolated event or part of a larger scheme was worth considering.


    No rational person would take a power struggle lightly; no one ever would.

 Chapter 111 - 111 A Way Out?

    Is there any way to fix this?


    The old man sat with his eyes closed, basking in the sunlight, lost in thought. Dust danced slowly in the air, shimmering in the light, and everything seemed so peaceful. Yet, within him, a storm raged, with no moment of calm.


    Political struggles have always been the cruelest battles, devoid of the smoke of the battlefield or the assault of bullets, but they drag everyone into a whirlpool of endless struggle until they ultimately drown.


    Regardless of whether the opponent is with the New Party, the trap has already been set, and to make matters worse, that fool Gador has already fallen into it. Getting him out of this mess would be relatively easy; it would just require a word with Lady Vivian, swallowing some pride. Lady Vivian would surely give him some leeway and let the matter slide. But would doing this leave behind any clues?


    Would it expose any flaws?


    After carefully weighing the options, the old man decided there might indeed be some issues.


    In political maneuvers, problems don''t come in big or small; a big problem just skips the fermentation period and some necessary means, allowing the opponent to reveal their true intentions directly. A small problem requires time to ferment and the use of other methods to amplify its severity. Either way, it can create the same opportunities that arise from a major issue.


    Where is the problem?


    The problem lies with Pronto!


    This is a criminal case involving robbery and bodily harm. Pronto, eager to appease Lady Vivian and resolve the matter quickly, used certain means to convict three people and imposed appropriate penalties in record time. All of this was done with procedures, which are sometimes prepared for oneself but, more often than not, are prepared for the enemy.


    Once the New Party seizes on the fact that Pronto, the local police chief, abused his power and colluded with gang members to obstruct justice, a small problem will turn into a big one. When the Ministry of the Interior''s investigation team arrives, even if no problem exists, they might create one.


    The more he thought about it, the more the old man admired the person behind this move, who, at a clever and sensitive time, used such an inconspicuous method to subtly alter the entire power structure of Ternell City.


    It''s foreseeable that once Pronto is taken down, those behind him will inevitably have conflicts and divisions, and the New Party will be able to smoothly pry the police chief''s position away from the Old Party''s territory in Ternell City.


    If this crucial role falls into the New Party''s hands, they could use "enhancing public safety" as an excuse to begin purging certain undesirable individuals and matters.


    By that point, all Old Party forces within Ternell City would be affected, potentially triggering an avalanche effect that could influence the upcoming midterm elections.


    The more he thought about it, the more the old man felt he could not afford to get involved. Internally, he had already conceded, a dangerous state of mind, signaling his retreat, though he hadn''t yet realized it.


    Intervening was not feasible. With the speed of telegraph communication, the events unfolding in Ternell City today could be on the front pages of all the Empire''s mainstream media by tomorrow morning. The public and the press had no sympathy for the Old Party, and once public opinion began to stir, the rot within Ternell City''s political system would quickly spread across the entire Empire.


    But if he didn''t intervene, Gador would become a discarded pawn. He knew too much and had handled too many dangerous matters. If he started talking, it wouldn''t just be the old man who suffered; it would implicate every key figure associated with the Old Party in Ternell''s high society.


    The old man opened his eyes at this moment, his gaze dull and murky. He looked at Gador and asked, "Do you still have the courage you had twenty years ago?" Then he added, "Do you still have the guts to gamble with your life?"


    After analyzing and understanding the old man''s words, Gador nodded firmly. "I can do it!"


    The old man nodded with satisfaction. "Good, I like that about you." S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Pronto is a clever man, and he''s always in control. He must have found a way out, so in this matter, you''ll be the only one to suffer in the end. But you don''t need to be afraid; offending Lady Vivian is not an insurmountable issue. If she goes too far, His Excellency the Governor will step in to advise her. More than three months."


    "Act like you know nothing for now. When Lady Vivian takes action, don''t resist; admit your guilt and explain the situation honestly. They won''t completely destroy you, as you are still my man. Once you plead guilty and serve your sentence, this matter will end. Given your abilities, I''m confident that even if you end up in the local prison, you''ll enjoy privileges others won''t."


    A classic sacrifice, but if a pawn can save more valuable pieces when discarded, then even a sacrificial piece has significant worth.


    After finishing his words, the old man waved his hand, indicating that Gador could leave. He had said all he needed to; the rest was up to Gador to execute. Gador''s expression showed no change as he maintained a respectful demeanor, bowed slightly, took two steps back, and then turned to leave.


    Watching through the window as Gador got into his car and disappeared down the street, the old man called his butler, whispered some instructions, and closed his eyes again.


    It was unclear whether he was pondering a solution or merely resting.


    Sitting in the car, Gador was jolted from his thoughts by the bumps in the road. He clenched his fists, knowing that he was facing the third major crisis of his life. He wasn''t sure if he could survive this one, as no one can always rely on luck in times of danger.


    He understood the old man''s message: continue as he was, clash directly with Lady Vivian, and then spend three months in prison before getting out.


    However, as a gang leader, Gador knew very well that without someone pulling strings on his behalf, that place would be far from pleasant. He could get in, but whether he would come out alive was another matter.


    He was troubled, unsure whether he should heed the old man''s advice and take a risky gamble. Since someone had set him up, they¡ªor some faction¡ªmust have considered all his options.


    He was no longer the man he was twenty years ago, with nothing to lose and the guts to gamble his life.

 Chapter 112 - 112 Follow Protocol

    On this day, a strange event occurred at the Ternell District Police Station. Habitual unsolved cases were suddenly seeing a steady stream of people turning themselves in. These individuals, covered in tattoos and clearly not of the respectable kind, nearly overcrowded the police station. Although their methods varied, they all shared the same goal: getting themselves incarcerated.


    After sending the junior officers out of the room, Pronto handed a cigarette to Gador and lit it for him. The two men smoked silently, neither wanting to break the silence. Perhaps out of a shared understanding of Gador''s situation, Pronto''s mood was somber. Did Gador come to confess some of his crimes out of a sudden moral awakening or a clear conscience? Absolutely not.


    At Gador''s level, even if everyone knew he was guilty, he would somehow remain innocent.


    The reasoning was simple. He had too many subordinates willing to take the fall for him. Like Morris, who had already gone to meet the angels, taking the blame for a gang leader was considered an honorable act and, for some members, the best way to exit the gang. Pronto believed that the moment Gador spoke, there would be a line of people vying for that one opportunity to take the blame.


    Yet, Gador had come in person to confess. He had no choice but to bow his head because the man behind him demanded it.


    "How many more people are you planning to send in?" Pronto asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette as he gazed out the fourth-floor window at the ever-growing crowd of gang members outside, rubbing his temple with some frustration. So far, over sixty people had come forward, a number that was absurdly excessive.


    The local prison was both large and small; if this many people were admitted at once, it was undeniable that aside from the warden, Gador''s influence would dominate the prison.


    Gador sneered, "One hundred."


    Only one hundred, and it still felt insufficient. If it weren''t for the need to maintain the gang''s order and deterrence, he might have considered packing up his entire gang and taking them to prison together. This was the only way he could face the harsh outcome, using numerous members to protect him, at least ensuring he wouldn''t inexplicably die behind bars.


    He had considered leaving Ternell City, escaping this damn trap, but in the end, he rejected the idea. It had taken him years to get this far; how long would it take to start over somewhere else? As the boss said, twenty years was not a short time, but at the same time, it was just a fleeting moment. He didn''t want to struggle step by step from nothing again, so he decided to take a gamble.


    Just as Pronto was about to say something, a familiar figure appeared at the police station''s entrance. He stubbed out his cigarette, turned, and walked over to Gador, patting him on the shoulder. "I''ll be back in a moment."


    Gador said nothing; he just wanted to be alone.


    Pronto left the room quickly and went downstairs to meet the old man. After a brief greeting, he bowed slightly and stood beside the elder. The old man gestured to a nearby corner, and the two walked over one after the other.


    Some onlookers glanced curiously in their direction but soon averted their eyes. The two were speaking, but no one knew exactly what was being said.


    "Yes¡­ yes, I understand¡­ yes, I know what to do," Pronto replied cautiously, bowing continuously to the imposing figure of the elderly butler with a wig and an expressionless face. Relief spread across Pronto''s face. He knew that not long ago, if he hadn''t figured everything out, he might have ended up in ruin alongside Gador. Yet, a sliver of doubt lingered in his mind.


    Whatever the planner behind this scheme intended, what was the point of targeting Gador?


    As it stood, Gador''s boss had simply discarded this piece. What could the mastermind behind the plan do?


    The butler was none other than Gador''s boss''s trusted aide, and his sole purpose for coming here was to sternly inform Pronto that Ternell City remained under effective control, with no dark forces present, let alone any large-scale criminal organizations.


    What did that mean?


    With Pronto''s years of experience as the police chief, he understood that the boss was telling him to "follow protocol." Politics is a fascinating game because every skilled politician knows how to use the most ambiguous language to express their intentions fully without leaving any leverage in others'' hands. What did "follow protocol" really mean?


    Plainly, it meant silencing people, but of course, they couldn''t openly say such things, leaving incriminating evidence behind. In this context, using the term "follow protocol" and the surrounding implications made perfect sense.


    The sudden trap had made the high-ranking figure feel a sense of crisis, prompting him to swiftly eliminate all factors he thought could lead to his downfall. Gador was just one of many¡ªcertainly not the only one. Secrets are never truly safe with people.


    To ensure some secrets stayed buried, leaving them to decay in history, the most reliable solution was to make everyone who knew the secret part of the secret itself.


    A hint of relief appeared on the butler''s rigid face as he slightly bowed and left. Watching the butler leave, Pronto shook his head with a bitter smile. For people of their status, a casual remark from one of these untouchable figures could change their lives entirely. Pronto was a clever man, so he knew the stance he needed to take on this matter.


    He also understood that Gador undoubtedly had crucial evidence and testimony. If he could get his hands on it, not even Gador''s boss could deal with him harshly. However, possessing such evidence wouldn''t bring him any benefits; rather, it would label him a "dangerous man." A police chief who enjoys uncovering secrets is not a good police chief. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In the lower and middle echelons of society, feigning ignorance and diligently performing one''s duties is the only surefire way to survive.


    With his back to the crowd, Pronto took out his pistol, checked the magazine, and adjusted his clothes before returning to the police station.


    From the moment he stepped inside, it took less than ten minutes before Gador stood by the window. Suddenly, he lost his balance and fell out.


    Falling from over ten meters wouldn''t necessarily be fatal¡ªunless one landed headfirst.

 Chapter 113 - 113 Shaun

    At this moment, Gador was both furious and terrified. He couldn''t believe that Pronto had deceived him into standing by the window, claiming that the boss''s men had arrived, and even more unbelievable was Pronto''s readiness to draw a gun and shoot him without hesitation. The shot wasn''t fatal¡ªa wound to the shoulder rarely threatens a person''s life.


    This was knowledge Gador had gained through countless experiences. He could clearly feel the bullet lodged in his shoulder, and it was the force from that impact that caused him to lose his balance¡ªright at the window''s edge.


    The fear from the tilt and the sensation of hanging in the air made Gador struggle desperately, but it also accelerated his fall from the window. He tumbled out, the wind howling in his ears like the mocking laughter of those high-powered figures who always looked down on him with disdain.


    The ground''s presence grew stronger and stronger, and amidst the frantic rush of wind, he could already smell the faint scent of soil. The next moment, with a sickening thud, everything went silent.


    People watched in horror as Gador''s body, heels pressing against his shattered skull, twisted grotesquely and then collapsed against the ground with a splat. No matter how hard Gador''s head might have been, the moment his heels met the back of his skull, his fate was sealed.


    Blood spattered far and wide, after a moment of dead silence, the crowd erupted into screams and shouts of outrage.


    Gador was dead!


    Pronto approached the window with a stern, indifferent expression, carefully holstering his pistol. He extinguished the last trace of pity from his eyes with ruthless precision, as he internally reviewed the heap of flesh that was Gador on the ground. The remnants of sentiment within him gradually faded away. He felt it wasn''t the boss''s fault, nor was it his own¡ªit was Gador''s fault.


    Gador had failed, hadn''t he?


    "We''re just tools. When a tool becomes uncooperative, it has to be replaced."


    "Didn''t see that coming, did you?"


    The faint sound was like the wind in the moment Gador fell from the window, sending a chill through Pronto. He wondered if Gador had experienced a similar sensation as he fell. A shiver ran up his spine, and his neck stiffened as he instinctively drew his pistol again. But before he could turn around, an arm pressed down on his shoulder.


    He saw a profile¡ªit was Shaun. In that instant, countless thoughts flashed through Pronto''s mind, and his eyes narrowed with a sinister and determined glint. Just as he was about to make a decision, Shaun turned his head and met Pronto''s gaze.


    "Are you trying to frame me?" Shaun smiled. "That could be interesting, you know?"


    Pronto felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. He did indeed have that thought: if Shaun had driven Gador to his death to extract information, it would be the perfect conclusion.


    People would readily come up with a plausible motive¡ªShaun was an agent of the Imperial Security Bureau stationed in Ternell City, and perhaps he saw Gador as a chance to regain a central role, ignoring others opposition and subjecting Gador to brutal interrogation. Faced with Shaun''s ruthless torture, Gador, loyal to his secrets, chose death by jumping out the window.


    Such a scenario would not only clear Pronto of any trouble but would also show the boss that he was genuinely doing his job while pushing Shaun into opposition with some of the boss''s allies. A win-win situation, wasn''t it?


    On the surface, Shaun seemed carefree, spending his days either partying with women or drinking himself into a stupor. But Pronto had never let his guard down around Shaun. He could overlook small transgressions, like Shaun stealing his liquor or taking his joyrides, but when it came to significant matters, he maintained strict vigilance.


    Sometimes, Pronto even wondered if Shaun''s current behavior was genuine or if he was simply biding his time, waiting for the right moment.


    After all, Shaun had once been a prominent figure involved in major affairs. He had been exiled to this backwater, but he certainly wasn''t resigned to his fate. Wouldn''t someone think that Ternell City, a stronghold of the Old Party''s influence, could be the breaking point to breach the Old Party''s defenses across Kanros State?


    It wasn''t impossible. If he could use this opportunity to drag Shaun down, then Shaun''s superiors¡ªif they existed¡ªwould undoubtedly be disappointed in him and eventually discard him, leading him to gradually disappear from public view until he was forgotten.


    The plan had been perfect, at least for a moment, but once Shaun exposed his intentions, Pronto no longer thought so. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "How could you think such a thing? We''re friends, aren''t we?" Pronto slipped his pistol back into its holster, his smile radiant as if it were a summer blossom reflecting sunlight.


    Shaun patted his shoulder meaningfully and leaned over to look out the window. In that instant, Pronto felt an almost uncontrollable urge to shove Shaun out as well. But he ultimately didn''t dare to do it, because Shaun was indeed different.


    The Imperial Security Bureau was not like other institutions. From the days of the feudal imperial era, the Empire had faced an unspeakable issue: most regions had a tendency to break free from central control, becoming semi-independent but without formally declaring independence.


    The nobles power had grown so strong that each lord ruled a territory, with some of these Lords tracing their lineage back five or six hundred years.


    During such long reigns, the people living under noble rule often recognized the nobles as their legitimate authority rather than the emperor. To change this situation, which had begun to alarm the royal family, the predecessor of the Imperial Security Bureau was established¡ªthe Imperial Emergency Special Operations Unit. Officially, this unit handled disaster relief and prevention.


    However, its real purpose was to monitor the nobles. If any noble displayed signs of rebellion or separatism, the unit was tasked with assassinating them as quickly as possible. Over its century-long history, the unit carried out many missions, including the infamous incident involving the Duke of Gewaren.


    According to the newspapers and official accounts, the Duke and his family went on a trip shortly after a rainstorm and were caught in a landslide, leading them all to meet their end.


    The Special Operations Unit saved the Duke''s grandson from the disaster. In the following twenty years, the grandson, known for his vices, died young, bringing an end to the Gewaren lineage. Whatever the truth was no longer mattered; what mattered was that this department''s reputation had long since instilled fear in the hearts of many powerful figures.


    After the New Party''s "uprising," the Imperial Emergency Special Operations Unit wasn''t disbanded but was instead absorbed entirely by the Imperial Security Bureau, leading to speculation that the so-called "uprising" had the tacit approval of the emperor and the royal family. Their goal was to change the increasingly precarious situation and prevent the Empire from collapsing.


    As previously stated, the truth was irrelevant; what mattered was that Pronto knew he could never touch Shaun, no matter how despicable Shaun might be.


    If Shaun died, the Security Bureau wouldn''t send another person; instead, they might send in a "cleaner."

 Chapter 114 - 114 Gadors Death

    Meanwhile, neither Pronto nor Shaun noticed the figure across the street from the district police station. Standing near a lamppost, dressed in a trench coat and wearing a bowler hat, he silently turned away, blending into the crowd and disappearing without a trace.


    That person was Julian.


    He let out a long sigh. Gador''s death was somewhat unexpected. In Julian''s view, a ruthless man like Gador, who specialized in dirty work for powerful figures, wasn''t supposed to meet an untimely end so easily.


    In the underworld, he had handled everything with cruelty and bloodshed, while in high society, those bigwigs, though they looked down on him, also feared him because he knew too many secrets that weren''t meant to be known.


    For example, last year a mid-tier actress had died, reportedly from a horse-riding accident where she fell off a small slope and was trampled by the horse, resulting in her death. The report was impartial and didn''t show any obvious bias, but that wasn''t the true scene of the incident.


    The real location was the basement of a certain magnate''s estate, where the actress died after being unable to endure the abuse. Gador took care of the aftermath.


    Logically, even though they were all part of the "Old Party," they had different positions and shouldn''t have used another''s subordinates for such matters. After all, it would risk exposing their own secrets. However, this world was different from the one Julian had dreamed of, the social system shaped different perspectives.


    Here, they believed that having one or two "dirty hands" was sufficient, and when necessary, eliminating those hands could sever all connections and protect the secrets.


    Moral and ethical values played a role, too. Even if they used Gador for their dirty work, they didn''t have to worry about him speaking out. Otherwise, it wouldn''t be them cleaning up Gador, but his own boss. Of course, no one would actively harm Gador, either. Despite differences in values and ethics, one thing was certain: the greater the power, the more intense the suspicion and paranoia.


    If someone had silenced Gador, how would others perceive it?


    It could even be explained as a "collusion case," where the ruling class of the entire city had become corrupt, blatantly trampling the law while simultaneously upholding it.


    So, from Julian''s perspective, Gador, no matter how lowly, shouldn''t have been silenced so swiftly. Julian had anticipated that Gador would spend some time in prison, then die unexpectedly, as they had always done. The current approach seemed a bit too crude.


    Nevertheless, the deviation wasn''t too far off¡ªGador was dead, wasn''t he? That meant Wood was now unprotected, allowing Julian to continue moving forward, pursuing his path toward the light!


    Gador''s death had a far greater impact within the gang than in society. Some advocated avenging Gador, surrounding the district police station and brandishing weapons, shouting for vengeance. Others argued for stabilizing the gang first and seeking revenge against Pronto later. Regardless of their stance, their motives were selfish, each with their own agenda.


    Gador''s death didn''t mean the end of the gang. Whoever could take Gador''s place would inherit everything he had.


    As those high-powered figures would say, when a tool doesn''t function properly, just replace it.


    The power, prestige, and opportunity for advancement were things every ambitious gang member craved, so chaos naturally ensued.


    Arguments.


    Insults. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Shoving.


    Brawls!


    Wood paced anxiously in his room, rubbing his hands together as if trying to wash away dried blood, just like he had after his first kill when he hid in a dark corner, trembling with fear. He kept glancing at the door every time he heard footsteps approaching, only to quickly lower his head again.


    He wanted to get out of there. He didn''t want to go down with these crazed men. The moment someone suggested attacking the district police station and gained some support, Wood realized things had gone terribly wrong. Was the district police station that easy to bully? Was Pronto, that sly old fox, easy to provoke?


    That man could smile and joke, but the moment you turned your back, he''d stab you without hesitation.


    Wood''s career was over, but he wasn''t ready to gamble his life. Just as he made up his mind to leave, there was a knock on the door.


    Cautiously, he picked up a flower vase from the table, filled with water to increase the impact if he had to swing it. He positioned himself beside the door, not behind it, knowing full well that people often liked to kick doors open, making standing behind them a dangerous choice.


    "Who is it?" he asked.


    A somewhat unfamiliar voice answered from outside, "No one knows what to do right now. You were close to the boss, and we''re hoping to get some advice from you."


    Wood didn''t open the door. After a moment of silence, he replied, "Sorry, I don''t even know what to do myself, so I can''t offer any help."


    "Alright then," the voice said, sounding disappointed. Footsteps grew fainter until they faded away.


    Wood put down the vase, having made up his mind: if he didn''t leave now, it would be too late. He knew these gang members weren''t civilized, let alone gentlemen. If they had already taken an interest in him, they''d come back, and it wouldn''t be just one or two people; it would be a group. Once they "persuaded" him, escaping would become nearly impossible!


    He changed his clothes, pressed his ear against the door, and listened for a while to ensure no one was outside. Then he gently unlocked and opened the door. The hallway was empty, though the noise of arguments came from the lobby downstairs.


    The gang members still didn''t know what to do. Gador''s "dictatorship" had indeed made governing the gang easier, but now that he was gone, the gang was falling apart. Wood tiptoed past the staircase and made his way to a second-floor window on the west side. Outside was a drainpipe and plenty of vines, leading down to a lawn adjacent to the manor and less than thirty meters from the gate.

 Chapter 115 - 115 You Must Have Money

    He climbed out the window, carefully descending the vines and drainpipe. Once he reached the ground, his pounding heart finally began to calm down. Dusting himself off and lowering his hat brim, he headed toward the gate. Outside, many people and cars were gathered, their expressions a mix of anxiety, hatred, and uncertainty about the future.


    Gador had been a successful leader, but not a suitable head, which was why the gang was now in such disarray.


    His departure went unnoticed. With the boss dead, everyone was too preoccupied with their own thoughts and actions to care about what anyone else was doing, which explained the bickering and divisions.


    Wood slipped away, and as he reached the sidewalk, he felt as if he had just stepped into a new world. He glanced back at Gador''s grand estate, shook his head slightly, and with a vague smile that hinted at something undefinable, began walking away. Though he had lost, he still had money. He could retire somewhere else, leave Ternell, and even Kanros, to start anew.


    A smile lingered on his face¡ªuntil he heard someone speak.


    "Julian sends his regards!"


    Wood hands were already trembling, much like a drained, deflated sack once filled with barley. One hand pressed against his abdomen, where a steady stream of warmth gushed into his palm. He looked down, and the sight of bright red blood met his eyes. Stumbling a step or two, he grasped a nearby lamppost, leaving a twisted, gruesome red handprint on the gray pole.


    "Oh, my God, what happened to you?" A woman in a blue dress and a pale yellow sun hat stood a short distance from Wood, covering her mouth in shock. She screamed, "Someone, help! This man is hurt!" Soon, people of all sorts gathered¡ªbeggars, barely clothed homeless people, and well-dressed professionals in suits.


    Their curious, satisfied, or surprised gazes focused on Wood, but no one stepped forward to tell him what to do or to help the unfortunate soul.


    The more blood flowed, the weaker his body became. His feeble legs struggled to maintain the last shred of dignity, but his muscles, suffering from severe blood loss, refused to obey. He slid down the pole and collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his mouth. His body convulsed slightly, eliciting gasps from the crowd, which began to disperse in confusion.


    The spasms grew more frequent, and the intervals between the crowd''s gasps shortened. These were complex reactions processed by the central nervous system, but the knife wound in his abdomen, which had torn apart the muscle tissue, rendered all responses futile.


    He felt cold, and his vision grew blurred and dim, like a newborn child entering this world¡ªnaked, cold, and helpless.


    A young man stood among the crowd, indifferently watching Wood''s now still body. He lowered the brim of his hat and disappeared into the pulse of the city with the other spectators, who dispersed once there was no spectacle left to watch.


    Wood was dead. The onlookers sighed, seemingly mixed with a hint of satisfaction, then quickly dispersed, leaving only the lifeless body of a wealthy man in the street.


    As the news of Wood''s death spread throughout the city.


    When Gador was forced to jump to his death, choosing to die to keep secrets.


    Another name began to circulate among the upper echelons of society alongside these two figures¡ªJulian.


    Every action had a clear target, and although the target might be misleading, the executor would never get it wrong. Therefore, some people never wasted time observing the artificial facade, instead, they saw past the false cover and targeted the true beneficiary.


    As mentioned earlier, all planned actions¡ªeven some unconscious ones¡ªwere beneficial to the individual. Wood was dead, and Gador was dead. Who then reaped the most benefit from these two events? Was it Gador''s subordinates? Wood''s subordinates? Or perhaps some tycoon or a boss?


    None of them!


    The beneficiary''s name was Julian, a once ordinary figure a month ago, now someone people would remember¡ªJulian.


    He had climbed to the pinnacle of life by stepping over Wood''s corpse, accomplishing in less than a month what had taken many others half their lifetime. However, he still lacked a crucial identity, a key that would grant him entry into the higher echelons of society¡ªhis stance.


    Stance did not refer to his occupation or his attitude, but to his political position.


    New Party?


    Or Old Party?


    Everyone was watching him, waiting for his final decision.


    "We are businessmen!" Julian pounded the table with his knuckles. When he returned to the newly renovated corner store, the room was filled with excitement from the members of the hometown association and the newly renamed "Southern Star Empire" Trading Company.


    Ever since Julian had visited the slums, a legend that might seem laughable to outsiders had spread among the Guar people. The legend initially circulated among elderly Guar women and gradually gained acceptance.


    "The Resurrection of the Guar King" was the core of this legend. The elderly women, using their rich life experiences, crafted a story in which King Alderrow returned from the realm of the dead, tore apart the decayed veil, and created a new world where all Guar people lived happily.


    Julian saw the story as a metaphor for himself, especially the first time he heard it. He simply laughed it off, knowing it wouldn''t harm his reputation or his standing among the Guar people, right?


    Driven by the legend, many considered joining Julian as a promising path. Had he not requested to avoid absorbing too many Guar people, the room might already have been too crowded. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The young faces were filled with excitement and a reverent expression, almost like pilgrims. Wood was dead, and Gador was dead; all threats to Julian had been swept away. Nothing could now stand in the way of his rise, and they, being part of it, felt proud, exhilarated, and full of vitality.


    "I must emphasize, we are businessmen, not gangsters, not thugs. We are law-abiding citizens, legitimate subjects of the Star Empire!" Julian said, pacing back and forth before speaking again, "Our happiness should not be built on fear. Fear only brings resistance and destruction, but respect can make us eternal. Today, I will share the key to achieving this."


    "And that is..." He paused to draw everyone''s attention before smiling and saying, "You must have money!"

 Chapter 116 - 116 Meeting Of The Illicit Alcohol Tycoons

    People always talk about successful individuals as if they were born with some extraordinary quality that sets them apart. However, the reality is different. Charisma and a sharp mind are, in fact, built upon the recognition of wealth by society.


    We often praise a particular entrepreneur for being bold, but we overlook the ninety-nine others with the same boldness who end up searching through trash piles for food after losing everything.


    We acknowledge the successful entrepreneur¡ªbehind whom lies the numbers representing status and wealth. The bigger those numbers are, the more firmly we affirm our belief in him.


    So, no matter what Julian says, in the eyes of those whose numbers are smaller than his, he is always right because he succeeded. We always believe in the successful because we have not yet succeeded ourselves.


    That is the goal, that is the example! sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Batch after batch of illicit alcohol was packed into sturdy wooden crates and loaded onto trucks. The trucks, filled to the brim, raced along the city streets, transporting low-proof liquor that, when poured out, turned into cash. More and more low-proof liquor gathered here, and more and more money flowed into Julian''s bank account.


    It''s worth mentioning a small anecdote here. Some people constantly reminded Julian that the Imperial Central Bank was unreliable because it was run by Ordinians. They suggested he should hide his money in a cellar.


    Well, that''s just a joke.


    The successful influx of high quality illicit alcohol into the market made life difficult for two other figures.


    In a quiet restaurant, there were only six people: two attendants, two bodyguards, and two tycoons.


    Ernst sat elegantly at one end of the long table, cutting his steak with grace. The quality of the steak was incomparable to the food consumed by the lower classes. While cows might be cheap, there were exclusive, expensive breeds meant only for nobles and capitalists.


    These cattle ate better than some middle-class families, and to ensure the fat was perfectly distributed within the muscle, each high-quality Wagyu cow had a team of at least three people to care for it.


    They fed the cattle expensive fruits and even other quality beef to increase the amino acid content in the meat, making it tastier. They also gave the cows regular massages to evenly distribute any excess fat throughout the meat. Of course, the cows needed exercise, too. Their daily life resembled that of noble lords, pampered and attended to, until they were finally served on someone''s plate.


    A nearly perfect steak like this cost around sixty to seventy dollars per pound, and for premium cuts, the price could exceed a hundred.


    Ernst, like a connoisseur, patiently cut a slightly charred piece of steak with a pink center, using a silver fork to pierce the meat. A hint of pink juice oozed out. He leaned forward carefully, stretching his neck to place the morsel into his mouth, nodding as he chewed.


    Glancing at the man across the table, he swallowed the meat and raised his fork and knife. "Aren''t you going to try some? It''s very fresh¡ªslaughtered just this morning."


    Carrell''s upper lip twitched twice, making him look somewhat ridiculous. His expression was stern and grim, with a chilling glint in his eyes. He lowered his gaze to the plate of steak emitting a tempting aroma and then crumpled his napkin into a ball, throwing it onto the table.


    "I don''t understand how you can eat. Don''t you know our market share is shrinking? Our daily profits are declining. We should stop that madman; at the very least, we can''t let him continue running wild!"


    Carrell was referring to the recent price cuts of the "Snow Elf" and "First Love" liquors. Though each bottle''s price had dropped by only fifty cents, it was enough to make more bars favor these two brands over high-proof illicit liquors. On one hand, the premium quality came with a mid-range wholesale price, and on the other, word of mouth from customers was rapidly spreading.


    More and more bars were falling under Julian''s influence. Bars were cash cows, and their owners didn''t care about unwritten rules; they only cared about profit and market demand.


    Ernst, due to his complex background, wasn''t too concerned about the gains or losses from illicit liquor. Or rather, he maintained his composure because he was confident he would outlast everyone else. But Carrell didn''t share that sentiment.


    Recently, as profits declined and expenses soared, he had already received warnings in a joking manner. If contributions continued to decrease, they would consider supporting someone else.


    With the midterm elections approaching, the competition had already begun. While most ordinary people saw only the fierce "battles" in the one or two months leading up to the election, they were unaware that preparations had started a year or two in advance.


    Faced with Carrell''s questioning, Ernst shrugged, setting down his fork and knife and looking seriously at Carrell. "Do you know how many rulers this city has seen come and go since it was founded?" Without waiting for Carrell to answer, Ernst answered his own question, making a gesture with his hand. "Countless¡ªyes, countless. The successful leave behind names, while the failures leave behind bones.


    Nothing remains unchanged forever."


    "No, this is different! I will not allow anyone to take away everything I have now, absolutely not!" As Carrell was about to stand and leave, a commotion erupted behind him. The quiet restaurant grew slightly noisy, and the door, which was supposed to remain closed, was pushed open.


    The two attendants barely had time to react before straightening up¡ªsharp blades were pressed against each of their necks.


    A young man, tall and upright, walked in wearing a white suit. With his head held high, he casually removed his hat and handed it to someone beside him, then strode confidently toward the table. At that moment, Carrell''s bodyguard tried to stop the intruders but found a gun pressed against his head.


    The man in the white suit pulled out a chair and placed it in the middle of the long table. He snapped his fingers, and one of the attendants stumbled backward and was pushed to his side.

 Chapter 117 - 117 Looking Beyond The Established System

    "Bring me a medium-rare steak, thank you!" The young man smiled, then leaned on the table with both hands, adopting an aggressive, oppressive posture as he looked at Ernst and Carrell. "Allow me to introduce myself!"


    He smiled and said, "My name is Julian!"


    The atmosphere of silence seemed cool and detached, but in truth, it was quite the opposite. Those who were well-prepared felt justified and calm, while those caught off guard felt a pang of worry and unease.


    Carrell kept signaling to Ernst, clearly indicating that the current situation was not unfolding as he had anticipated.


    Amidst the silence, a waiter approached, carrying a plate of steak which he placed in front of Julian, along with two sets of cutlery¡ªone for the steak and another for a small side dish that accompanied it.


    The subject of dining etiquette could easily fill an academic tome. The nobles'' obsession with detail made their daily routines grueling in the eyes of commoners. After all, just getting dressed each day took around two hours, and if attending a grand banquet, even longer. Hardly as straightforward as the lives of ordinary folk!


    For the nobles, however, their strict adherence to these rules of speech and behavior was a means to distinguish "nobles" from "peasants" in this new era. By following these rules with increasing rigor, they seemed to derive a sense of superiority, particularly when they cast a disdainful yet pitying smile toward the commoners, watching them wolf down their food and wipe their mouths.


    A bemused glance to the person beside them conveyed their unspoken sentiment:


    "Look, this is a peasant!"


    While many of the nobles'' rules might seem trivial, people loved to imitate them. Everyone wanted to be part of the elite, a circle with a certain allure that attracted those who saw themselves as successful.


    People often criticize mainstream symbols, like power, money, and social class, but simultaneously envy those who possess them. This contradiction is what people in another world might call "class envy." It isn''t just wealth they envy but everything they themselves lack.


    This was a high-end restaurant, catering exclusively to those of status, though Julian was unaware of this. So, he simply chose the larger, more convenient utensils to eat with. He clumsily sliced into the steak, spearing a sizable piece of meat on his fork and stuffing it into his mouth, chewing a few times before swallowing and nodding in satisfaction.


    The flavor was far better than any steak he had ever tasted. He''d never encountered anything so delicious. Pausing slightly, he turned to the waiter and asked, "Where is this steak from?"


    The waiter smiled with impeccable poise, flashing eight pristine teeth that gleamed faintly under the lights. "This is Wagyu beef, sourced from one of the few exclusive ranches within the Empire. It''s incredibly rare and expensive. The portion you''re enjoying costs sixty-eight dollar, sir."


    Julian whistled. Sixty-eight dollar¡ªhow many bottles of wine would he have to sell to earn enough for a single meal? The cost of the wine on the table and the dishes in front of these two prominent figures far exceeded his imagination. After all, he had once gnawed on bread harder than stone, needing to sprinkle it with water and warm it by the fire just to make it chewable.


    Such extravagance! He sighed and continued to devour the unevenly cut steak.


    "Don''t you two have anything to say?" Julian asked, chewing with bits of meat and juice flying from his mouth.


    Carrell watched Julian with a cold expression, but Ernst broke the silence. After frowning and observing Julian for a while, he hesitantly asked, "You''re... that man from the other day, the one that i payed one dollar right?"


    Julian''s attention shifted to Ernst, and he nodded cheerfully. "I remember now. Since we''re acquainted, it makes it easier to discuss what I came here for." After finishing the last of the steak and wiping his mouth, he leaned back in his chair. "Wood is dead, but someone still needs to take his place. I know you have certain arrangements and agreements with others."


    "I intend to honor those agreements!"


    Julian had already thought this through before coming here. The rules of the game, as established by the bosses, were not something he could disrupt just yet. If he didn''t want to end up as another unlucky soul meeting an untimely end in some dark alley, he needed to learn to play by the rules.


    People needed stability, whether it pertained to public order or the market.


    Ernst dabbed his lips with a napkin, folding it carefully on the table''s edge. His expression turned thoughtful, while Carrell''s cold demeanor softened slightly. This was promising; if Julian was willing to follow the rules, they might be willing to compromise.


    As both of them focused on him, Julian spoke slowly. "The market is limited. To me, Ternell is a large city, but to you, it probably isn''t much. There are far more prosperous cities out there. Compared to them, Ternell is practically a slum." S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "They need us to compete, but in a way that remains manageable. I''m prepared to respect this rule, but beyond that, I believe we can attempt something different¡ªsomething that allows us to break the wealth cap imposed on us without breaking the rules."


    "We can continue to compete for the limited market within Ternell City. Allow me to call it ''limited,'' but I think our focus should be beyond Ternell, on larger cities like Aul Aldo, or others. That''s where the real opportunity lies."


    Ernst raised his hand, resting his chin thoughtfully, intrigued by Julian''s suggestion.


    After all, who could remain indifferent to the prospect of more money?


    "Tell us more about your proposal."


    The three men seated here were no fools. While their experiences and perspectives might lead them to view the situation differently as it progressed, their understanding of the underlying truths remained essentially the same.


    Julian''s brief remarks had already piqued Ernst''s interest and convinced them that he truly understood the rules of Ternell City. The powerful figures who loomed high above, like gods in the clouds, manipulated Ternell like a chessboard. They didn''t want to see any overly consolidated group grow strong enough to challenge them.


    At the same time, they disliked cutthroat competition that pushed factions to the brink. Thus, they established a controlled system of competition within acceptable limits.

 Chapter 118 - 118 Beyond Ternel

    Under such a system, everyone in the city, every faction, was like a carefully measured component in the grand machine of Ternell, ensuring nothing malfunctioned internally.


    Julian''s idea was straightforward: since breaking out of the higher ups'' control from within was impossible, why not work within the system while finding an alternative path to carve out a different road?


    As Julian continued, he proposed that the three parties should continue competing within Ternell according to the established rules. But beyond Ternell, they should join forces to seize wealth in more prosperous places. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Bootleg liquor was like an unconventional, tangible currency in circulation; anywhere, anytime, as long as you had a bottle of high proof smuggled liquor, you could easily trade it for cash. The moment those potent spirits were bottled, their market was guaranteed.


    The three men discussed forming a new company solely for "external" trade, and Ernst and Carrell listened closely, agreeing with Julian''s vision. Once their bootleg liquor spread across Kanros State, they would amass unimaginable wealth. Naturally, any gain comes with risks, which correlate directly with the rewards.


    Local stakeholders would certainly dislike the introduction of new products disrupting their already stable market. This wasn''t about a few coins¡ªit was a commercial battle involving thousands. Under Julian''s persuasion, both agreed to contribute funds and personnel as a guarantee for entering other markets.


    But one issue remained unresolved: the distribution of shares.


    Julian demanded at least 51% ownership in this trading company. He wasn''t fixated on absolute control; this wasn''t a legitimate business, and having the largest share could make him the most accountable if things went south. He based his demand on current market shares, as his product sold best and held the largest market share.


    Carrell objected strongly to this. In Julian''s proposal, Julian held 51%, Ernst took 30%, and Carrell was left with only 19%, which he found unacceptable. Why should he get the smallest share when they were all putting in equal effort?


    Ernst, however, remained silent. He felt that earning 30% was already profitable, and his primary income didn''t come from bootlegging. As mentioned before, no one is indifferent to wealth, including Ernst. While not his main income source, bootlegging was still lucrative. Therefore, he had no objections to a 30% share.


    Carrell was the only dissatisfied one, perhaps not yet realizing that sometimes the strength of one''s voice has little to do with physical size.


    The intense discussion sparked Julian''s hunger once more. After all, he was still a young man, in a growth phase. A single steak might be enough for an adult like Ernst or Carrell, but for a young man needing ample nutrition, it wasn''t sufficient.


    "Bring me another one, the same steak as before," Julian said, glancing at the waiter. His gaze faltered momentarily.


    In the next instant, he grabbed the waiter''s tie and yanked it down hard, slamming the waiter''s head into the table, colliding with the plates that hadn''t yet been cleared. A loud crash echoed, some shards cutting the waiter''s cheek and leaving traces of blood on the table.


    "I don''t like the way you look at me," Julian said, picking up a fork and gripping it tightly. "I know what you''re thinking, but I don''t like your thoughts or your gaze. You should have hidden it better so I wouldn''t notice, but you failed." The waiter trembled, keeping his mouth tightly shut.


    Yes, it was the waiter''s gaze that unnerved Julian. It was a look of disdain, a silent arrogance that made him feel judged.


    He was looking down on Julian.


    The contempt and scorn in his eyes were almost palpable. The first time, Julian chose to ignore it, as he was now a "man of importance," with no need to spar with a mere waiter over such matters. But a second offense would change things.


    Julian released his grip on the fork embedded in the waiter''s shoulder, giving a slight nod. Dave stepped forward immediately. "Teach him how to be a decent, upright person," Julian instructed, taking a napkin to wipe away a few droplets of bright red blood, no longer sparing a glance at the waiter, whom Dave was now dragging by the hair out of sight.


    He shrugged, spreading his hands. "Everyone''s told me this place is excellent, but I think it falls short¡ªthey haven''t yet learned what it means to be a proper waiter." In the corner, the waiter''s pained cries and the sounds of blows rang out. "Now, back to our previous topic¡ªthe matter of share distribution¡­"


    After a prolonged discussion, an agreement was finally reached.


    Carrell stormed off, seething with his 23% share, while Ernst shook Julian''s hand with a smile, inviting him to visit his home. Then he courteously took his share and left.


    Watching them walk away, Julian''s face finally broke into a broad grin. Hands in his pockets, he glanced back at the waiter lying on the floor, gasping, too weak to even cry out, and nodded approvingly.


    "Give him some money for medical expenses. He''s learned his lesson."


    A boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen, wearing a flat cap, walked over, pulling about ten dollar from his pocket and scattering them over the waiter''s bloodied face.


    ...


    "Mayor, you must address this matter!" Ernst and Carrell sat in the mayor''s office, pouring out their grievances.


    The mayor, previously known as the Chief Administrator before the New Party''s reforms, now held extensive authority. Apart from the military, nearly everything within Ternell City was within his purview, allowing him to have the final say on all major and minor affairs.


    Peter Turner gazed calmly at Ernst and Carrell, showing no partiality. After listening to Carrell''s complaints, he had pieced together the situation: Julian''s bootleg liquor business was undercutting Carrell and Ernst''s profits, driving them here for help. Far from sympathetic, Peter even felt a touch of satisfaction.


    "Whenever people outside spoke of the ''Three Giants of High-Proof Alcohol'' in Ternell, Peter felt no pride in controlling them¡ªonly concern."

 Chapter 119 - 119 The Importance Of Internal Competition For The Higher-Ups

    How was the Star empire nobility overthrown by the New Party? After suffering military defeat, they failed to notice as the New Party amassed strength and ultimately toppled the long standing nobility. While comparing three petty criminals in a small city to a national revolution might seem excessive, the dynamics were the same.


    The Three Giants had developed a deep understanding over time, maintaining strict boundaries without ever crossing them.


    Years of co-existence had brought peace to their "war," especially in the past two years, during which Wood, Carrell, and Ernst had avoided even minor clashes. This was a dangerous signal, implying a level of coordination and unity among the three that was far too high.


    Just as rulers dread seeing alliances form among subordinates, Peter feared witnessing the Three Giants align in a defensive alliance.


    This sign was dangerous; if they accumulated enough power and outward aggression, they might soon try to alter the political landscape of Ternell. So even if Wood hadn''t died outside Gador''s estate, Peter would have found a way to target one of the giants and bring someone new to power. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Only by keeping sufficient pressure on them and ensuring internal competition could the upper echelons intervene in the lower society.


    Before Peter could take any action, however, Wood was already dead, and a new giant¡ªJulian¡ªhad emerged. This was a blessing, just as now.


    In hindsight, it had been a long time since either Carrell or Ernst sought his help. He owed Julian gratitude for injecting fresh vigor into the stagnant bootleg market and creating positive, competitive changes.


    This was something Peter truly appreciated.


    Just consider the late Wood.


    Each year, Wood donated a hefty portion of his earnings as political contributions to prominent figures, his intentions clear: to secure an official "position." If Wood, Carrell, and Ernst obtained their desired standing, they''d occupy a substantial part of Ternell''s political landscape, forming an old-party faction to rival existing powers¡ªa disturbing scenario indicating a loss of control.


    Our Mayor Peter had no desire to see this happen.


    Now the problem was resolved, and without Peter''s intervention. Julian had rid him of a fool like Wood, intensifying competition.


    Peter raised a hand, stopping Carrell''s curses and complaints. "It''s not appropriate for me to blatantly interfere with business matters; such affairs fall outside my jurisdiction. Besides, I don''t see a need to intervene." He crossed his legs, continuing, "Internal competition promotes evolution.


    When the Ordinian Star Empire was founded many years ago¡­" Peter chuckled, shaking his head, stopping mid-sentence. Not because he didn''t want to continue, but because it wasn''t necessary.


    Neither Carrell nor Ernst had received a noble''s elite education, so what Peter wanted to express might be hard for them to grasp¡ªor perhaps the mayor felt that silence conveyed his position just as effectively.


    His stance was clear: "I''m not getting involved, so don''t come to me for this."


    Carrell, huffing in frustration, dragged Ernst out after a hasty farewell to the mayor, storming out of the office. Through the window, Peter watched Carrell dive into his car and drive off from city hall, a faint smile tugging at his lips.


    This was exactly what he wanted¡ªto keep them entangled with one another, ensuring easier governance.


    Meanwhile, Julian was preparing to return home. With a new plan signed with the other two "giants," the next steps involved a flurry of bootlegging and transporting the excess products to other areas. But first, he needed to head home.


    It had been over two months, nearly three, since he left. Mr. Kesma''s words still lingered in his ears, urging him to return and show off his success. Julian was young, and with youth came a healthy dose of vanity¡ªhe wanted to flaunt his achievements.


    The car he had acquired from Wood, now restored and polished to a mirror shine, satisfied Julian as he took his seat. Leaving city affairs in the hands of Dave and Ellis, he set off on his first trip back, accompanied by two familiar associates.


    People are always drawn to their roots, often recalling their home, loved ones, and even whether the vegetables around the house have grown as lushly as they were before they left. Bumpy roads stirred his thoughts and emotions, immersing him in memories of home throughout the journey, though he hadn''t been away long.


    As the car slowed to a halt, the slight jolt awoke him. Gazing at the familiar streets and the gathering crowd, a faint smile played on his lips. The young man in the passenger seat stepped out, opening Julian''s door and ushering him out. With solid footing on home soil under warm sunlight, Julian''s face lit up with a long-lost smile.


    "Isn''t that¡­ Kesma''s youngest?" someone exclaimed, recognizing him.


    Julian had transformed, hardly resembling the person who had left home months before.


    "What''s going on here? Move aside, move aside!" Mason pressed one hand on the pistol at his waist and the other on the police cap atop his head, pushing through the dense crowd. Every now and then, someone would jab him with an elbow, though he couldn''t tell who it was.


    Never underestimate the cunning and tenacity of country folk; the noble notion of simple, honest farmers only exists in the fanciful paintings of artists. The countryside was no idyllic paradise.


    Finally, Mason managed to push his way to the center, clutching his chest, having lost his hat in the process. He shot a glare at the onlookers, retrieving his hat from a young girl with a cheerful, freckled face who handed it back with a polite "thank you."


    The Kesma family was known for their politeness¡ªa quality undoubtedly influenced by Mr. Kesma himself. Once thought rigid and stubborn by the children, he had softened over the years, though a certain inflexibility remained. They say people are social creatures, shaped more by society''s expectations than their own experiences. The more people associated Mr.


    Kesma with the Kesma family, the more he focused on instilling manners.

 Chapter 120 - 120 Returning Home

    Not that he was ever rude, but compared to the city folk who wore politeness like a mask, he''d seemed a bit coarse. Over time, "rough" Mr. Kesma disappeared, replaced by the polite Mr. Kesma, albeit with the occasional family quarrel over the boundary stone.


    Everyone has a role model, someone they admire and aspire to be like. For the Kesma family, Mr. Kesma was that figure, influencing the family''s courteous demeanor.


    The young girl''s smile revealed slightly yellowed teeth, and the freckles on her nose dotted her face like stars scattered across a night sky.


    Quickly averting his gaze, Mason adjusted his hat, tapped his pistol at his waist, and nudged past the last few people to enter the center of the crowd.


    For the past two months, being the sheriff in this rural town had proven grueling. His first duty upon pinning on the sheriff''s badge was finding a missing cow for a woman more robust than himself. Here, cows aren''t used for plowing; instead, they provide a cheap source of fat for cooking, much like pigs in other places.


    When the cow was finally ready for slaughter, it would be fattened and taken to the butcher.


    Losing a cow was a heavy blow for a family. As one of the two sheriffs in Clover Town, Mason took on the responsibility. He found the cow in a nearly dry mud pit, caked in mud and with a broken leg, likely from stepping into the pit.


    After a two-day struggle, Mason managed to return the cow to town, only to watch as two burly brothers from the woman''s family effortlessly hoisted it up and carried it away.


    Since then, he''d handled trivial tasks: a rooster that suddenly stopped crowing, with neighbors demanding Mason "encourage" it to resume its morning routine; a goose that mysteriously stopped laying eggs, sparking a minor panic. It seemed Mason was the only one in town people could turn to for help.


    The other sheriff, an old drunkard, spent each day either preparing for his next nap or recovering from his last.


    If it weren''t for a simmering desire to prove himself as the sheriff he aspired to be, Mason might have given up long ago. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Despite the triviality of these tasks, he had made progress. At least some now regarded him as a real sheriff and even supported him.


    As he reached the center, he spotted a gleaming new car, its polished surface so reflective he could see himself in it. Straightening his collar and adjusting his hat, he approached the man in the white suit, who was facing away from him.


    "Hello, I''m the sheriff here. You may not realize, but parking here isn''t allowed¡­" Mason''s voice trailed off, his eyes widening in shock until they ached. "Good heavens, Julian! What happened to you?" He finally dared to reach out and touch the car''s smooth, polished surface. "Is this¡­ your car?"


    Just as Mason was astounded by Julian''s transformation, Julian was equally surprised upon turning around. For a moment, he felt a mental disarray¡ªsince when had Mr. Kesma become so lenient as to let Mason become a sheriff?


    "When did this happen?" Julian pulled a cigarette from his pocket, offering it to Mason. Mason eyed the filtered cigarette in surprise, hesitating briefly before tucking it into his pocket. He knew that cigarettes with filters weren''t cheap, and in the countryside, such a cigarette could hold more "influence" than his badge.


    Julian lit his own cigarette and then slapped the freshly opened pack onto Mason''s chest. "Let''s go home. As much as I hate to admit it, I kind of miss our old stubborn father."


    After a brief hesitation, Mason put an arm around Julian''s shoulder and gave him a hearty pat. "Father will be thrilled!" he said, glancing uneasily at the curious onlookers who were even daring to touch the car''s exterior. He was helpless; there was nothing he could do about them, and they clearly didn''t care that Mason was the sheriff.


    Julian gave a slight nod to his two young associates.


    The crowd was no obstacle to Julian. His two attendants, who had accompanied him for both protection and assistance, pulled handfuls of coins from cloth bags in the car and tossed them into the crowd. In an instant, the farmers, housewives, and young men and women who had been pressing forward all bent down with delighted shouts.


    At that moment, Julian stood at the center of Clover Town like a revered king, receiving homage from all around!


    ...


    Mr. Kesma hummed a nostalgic tune as he tended to a modest potted plant, a new hobby he had taken up recently. His children were growing up, and with Mason and Julian each taking their own paths, the family began feeling the urge to break free, to venture into the world beyond.


    He understood this was beyond his control, so he sought other pastimes, such as cultivating plants he found particularly meaningful and beautiful.


    Most of his potted plants came from the fields or small shoots he''d gathered from under trees. Through trimming and nurturing these rooted plants, Mr. Kesma seemed to reclaim a sense of control.


    His approach to plant care was not meticulously planned; he simply knew how to shape them into his ideal vision. Holding scissors poised to snip a tender bud emerging from a branch, he was startled by the loud, sudden opening of the living room door.


    The intense focus he had on his ideal bonsai shape caused his hand to tremble, and, before he could stop himself, he cut off a large portion of the branch. Staring at the branch now lying lifelessly on the floor, Mr. Kesma paused, then quietly set the scissors down, picked up the severed branch, examined it, and finally turned toward the living room.


    He wanted to see who dared make such a racket in his house. As he stepped through the door, about to scold the intruder, he froze, almost as if someone had hit the pause button on him. After rubbing his eyes, he felt the tension in his face ease, though he maintained his usual stern expression.

 Chapter 121 - 121 Julians Family

    "By the Lord above, it''s my dear Julian come home!" A figure rushed past him, pushing a grinning Mason aside, and wrapped Julian in a fierce embrace amid a flurry of green floral fabric.


    Julian gently patted his mother''s strong, sturdy back. "Yes, Mother, I''m back." He looked over at Mr. Kesma, who had quickly composed himself, settling into a chair, taking a swig of water, and lighting his pipe. He gave Julian a sidelong glance.


    With Mrs. Kesma''s joyful exclamations, the whole house seemed to come alive. Siblings, both older and younger, seemed to appear from hidden corners like summoned magicians, all at once rushing to Julian with a barrage of curious and exaggerated questions, to which he responded with little more than a smile.


    After time apart, their reunion was not only joyful but also laced with a hint of unfamiliarity.


    His youngest sister, Lilith, stood shyly by the doorframe, not joining the others but instead watching from a distance, her timid gaze holding an inexplicable sense of detachment. Three months may have seemed brief to an adult, but to a child, it was long enough for familiar bonds to feel distant. Julian waved her over, and Lilith hesitated before slowly stepping forward.


    In the mind of this five¡ªor was it four?¡ªyear-old, memories of Julian were already somewhat faded. She cast an occasional look toward Mr. Kesma for courage as she cautiously approached Julian.


    Julian took a candy wrapped in brown paper from his pocket, and Lilith''s eyes lit up, the unfamiliarity vanishing as she threw herself into his arms.


    Though not an extravagant luxury, candy was also not cheap enough for everyone to enjoy regularly.


    "You look like you''ve been doing well in the city," Mr. Kesma remarked, eyeing Julian from head to toe with a nod of approval. He didn''t know the value of the suit Julian was wearing but assumed it must be decent. Unaware that Julian had driven back or of the scene he had caused in town, Mr. Kesma''s calm might have been shattered had he known.


    In his practical mind, this well-fitted suit might have been borrowed or rented, merely an attempt to save face. Mr. Kesma crossed his legs, feeling a mix of emotions. In just three months, Julian had gained a newfound maturity and now used subtle ways to mask his own hardship, perhaps to reassure his family.


    He let out a deep sigh, and the entire household fell silent, all eyes on him.


    "Julian, what are you doing now? Are you an apprentice? Or maybe you''ve found some work?" Mr. Kesma continued, "Take off that suit so your mother can put it away carefully. Don''t let it get dirty or damaged, so you don''t have trouble returning it."


    To Mr. Kesma, Julian''s return wasn''t just a visit home; he suspected it was a way to gauge his reception. After all, Julian had left with such resolve, and returning suddenly might be hard on his pride.


    Julian chuckled. Mr. Kesma hadn''t changed, still just as "dictatorial" as ever. He stepped over to him, took out a lighter, and lit his pipe. "Father, this time I''ve come back hoping to bring some changes to the family." Julian glanced over at Mason. "What I''m most curious about is how Mason became the sheriff." Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The sheriff held a position somewhat akin to that of a police officer, but with considerably more authority¡ªfar more than a regular policeman. Becoming a sheriff wasn''t a matter of simple ambition; it required complicated certifications and procedures.


    In addition to policing, a sheriff held a "military" role in the town, with the power to mobilize a civilian guard and distribute weapons in times of external threat.


    This was something Julian only learned after his time in Ternell.


    His one thought now was whether he could bring Mason to Ternell and arrange a respectable position for him to help safeguard his ventures.


    His relationship with Pronto was, in reality, quite complicated. Outwardly, they got along well, but beneath the surface, things were less harmonious. The ten thousand Julian had paid Pronto wasn''t easy to swallow. Pronto understood that with smaller sums, he could maintain control, but with larger amounts, that leverage became less certain.


    In this situation, there was always the risk that Pronto might stab him in the back, so Julian hoped to place someone loyal to him within the police force.


    Mason smile carried a hint of awkwardness. The primary reason he wanted to become a sheriff was directly related to Julian. Julian had successfully escaped Mr. Kesma''s control, gaining freedom to live the life he desired, and this had a profound impact on the older children in the family.


    As the eldest son, Mason felt that he, too, needed to do something, rather than simply watching Julian and whatever might happen to him.


    The "decaying rule" had already been torn open by Julian, and Mason needed to continue widening that tear, letting the sunlight in¡ªmost children tend to view their strict, stern, stubborn, and authoritarian parents as part of the "evil faction," which is understandable, as humans are inherently drawn to freedom.


    Thus, Mason courageously became the second family member to stand up against "tyranny," feeling it was his duty and mission as the eldest son, although he didn''t dare to voice it yet.


    He fabricated a somewhat acceptable reason, explaining his admiration for the sheriff''s badge, his longing for the uniform, and his dream of pursuing justice.


    Julian averted his gaze and looked at Mr. Kesma. In the past, Julian wouldn''t have dared to look directly at Mr. Kesma. In the family, Mr. Kesma undoubtedly occupied the apex of the pyramid, ruling unchallenged.


    However, after some time navigating society, Julian suddenly realized that Mr. Kesma, aside from his barely maintained authority, was actually a rather approachable person¡ªjust someone who had expressed himself incorrectly.


    Mr. Kesma stubbornly believed that his life experiences and wisdom could be applied to everyone, ignoring the fact that some people are born to defy fate and are warriors who challenge the current mainstream.

 Chapter 122 - 122 The Path Of No Return

    Mr. Kesma took a puff of his cigarette, the harsh scent of cheap tobacco stinging his nose, unlike the fragrant filtered cigarettes packed in metal cases.


    Julian pulled out a roll of money from his pocket¡ªabout a thousand bucks. In an era of increasing production and sales, this amount wasn''t particularly impressive. Still, Mr. and Mrs. Kesma''s eyes were immediately drawn to the thick roll of bills in Julian''s hand, their minds going blank.


    They recognized the numbers and knew the bill on the outside was a ten dollar note. If the entire roll was made of ten dollar notes, how much would that be? Three hundred dollars? Maybe five hundred?


    Just then, the sound of a car''s metallic grinding approached, stopping outside Mr. Kesma''s house. Two young men unloaded two heavy crates from the trunk, carried them to the steps, and knocked on the door.


    Mr. Kesma''s expression grew complicated. He gave Julian a deep look and, after saying he''d get the door, walked to the front door, opening it without even checking who was there. Two fifteen or sixteen year old boys politely greeted him with a "Hello" while dragging the crates inside.


    Mr. Kesma glanced at the shiny car outside and sincerely remarked, "Looks like you''ve really made it, Julian!"


    Inside the two crates were some bootleg liquor, clothes, and small gifts for every family member. Mr. Kesma received an entire box of cigarettes¡ªa metal case about a foot long, half a foot wide, and half a foot high, filled with fifty packs of cigarettes, enough to last him a while.


    There was also an unassuming wooden box Julian picked it up, nudged Mason with his shoulder, and exchanged a knowing glance with Mr. Kesma before heading upstairs.


    Without hesitation, the two men followed him.


    Once inside Mr. Kesma''s sanctified "palace," Julian shut the door and carefully placed the wooden box on the table, opening it with great caution. Mason and Mr. Kesma leaned in curiously, wondering what could warrant such careful treatment.


    Inside the box were two small velvet pouches. Julian took one out and emptied its contents¡ªa handgun. It was slightly worn, indicating some use, but had been well maintained, with no leaks or corrosion in the catalytic components.


    Upon seeing the gun, Mr. Kesma''s brows furrowed, and his expression grew serious. His face took on a familiar sternness, reminiscent of when he discovered the children doing something wrong over the years. He reached out, took the gun from Julian, and flipped off the safety. When the grip began to warm in his hand, his expression darkened further.


    Apart from the two handguns, the crate contained four boxes of ammunition. Ammunition could be made in many places, the simplest method involving cutting steel rods into sections that could fit into the magazine. Though these bullets were simple and less effective, they were easy to produce. Julian had brought only four boxes of them.


    "There were also two sealed metal boxes that made sloshing sounds when shaken, containing catalysts cut specifically for the handguns."


    "Where did these come from?" Mr. Kesma casually tossed the gun back into the crate, locking eyes with Julian. "Don''t tell me you found them. And why did you bring these dangerous things back here? What are you planning?"


    Julian didn''t hold back, recounting everything that had happened, including some less than savory actions. If he were to lie about such significant matters, it wouldn''t be a harmless white lie but a sign of flawed character. His detailed narration left both Mr. Kesma and Mason slack jawed. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The events of the past three months sounded like a novel. When Julian finished, the room fell into silence, lasting nearly ten minutes before Mr. Kesma finally asked, with a complicated expression, "So, what are you planning to do now?"


    "Father, I respect and love you, and every sibling in this family. I cannot stand idly by while danger approaches you all, nor can I lie and say everything is fine. No matter how careful I am, if those people really want to find you, they will."


    "Additionally..." Julian looked at Mason and said sincerely, "I want to take Mason with me back to Ternell City."


    Mr. Kesma''s gaze followed Julian''s words to his eldest son, his eyes revealing a faint trace of confusion and worry. To be honest, he felt that Julian''s endeavors in Ternell City were fraught with danger. Otherwise, there would be no need for him to send two handguns back to the family for protection, signifying that the enemy might bypass Julian and come directly for Mr. Kesma and his family.


    Though Mr. Kesma could read, he hadn''t received higher education. However, his years of life experience taught him one thing: when you''re about to throw a punch at someone, that person might be thinking of punching you back.


    He hoped all his children could grow up safe, normal, and healthy, then form families of their own¡ªperhaps not harmonious or perfect, but at least simple and warm. They might have one or many children, and though their lives wouldn''t be affluent, they would still be happy in an ordinary way.


    Julian was destroying that wish. But he also knew that calling for a pause at this point was akin to placing his head on the guillotine and waiting for the final moment. Mr. Kesma was an excellent farmer and a decent hunter.


    He knew that as long as a hunter remained a hunter, the prey would stay prey. But if the hunter lost his edge and forgot his purpose, he would become the prey, and the prey would become the hunter.


    This was a path with no breaks and no way back. Either one becomes an ever better hunter, eliminating all predators nearby, or they must flee the danger, avoiding being hunted.


    Mr. Kesma was a rigid, stubborn, and authoritarian man. He would rather be a failed hunter in a predator''s mouth than a foolish prey caught by another hunter. Julian couldn''t stop, let alone go back; he had to keep going, as it was the only path available to him. As such, Mr. Kesma didn''t dissuade him or advise him to stop because Julian simply couldn''t.

 Chapter 123 - 123 Building A Solid Foundation

    "Have you hurt someone''s family?" Mr. Kesma asked.


    Julian wanted to lie and say no, but Mr. Kesma''s strict upbringing had left a significant impact on him. After a moment''s hesitation, he nodded. "Yes, Father. I once harmed a man''s wife, skinning her and crucifying her."


    To Julian''s surprise, Mr. Kesma didn''t react with fury or anger. Instead, he seemed calm, wise even, like a serene elder.


    "I don''t see any remorse or fear on your face. Was that skinned woman a Guar?" Julian nodded, and Mr. Kesma''s lips curled into a barely discernible smile. "If she was a Guar, then I won''t blame you. Anyone who has betrayed the bloodline of King Audlero must pay the price and face judgment."


    "Did that family trick you, causing you significant loss or trouble? Were they Guar?" Julian first nodded, then shook his head. Yet, Mr. Kesma understood immediately. He patted Mason on the shoulder. "Go pack up.


    Tomorrow, leave town with this scoundrel!"


    Julian was genuinely shocked by Mr. Kesma''s ability to extract and understand vital information using his own unique wisdom and methods. He also felt the profound sense of responsibility and love Mr. Kesma had for him, Mason, and the entire family¡ªsomething he had never experienced before.


    Mr. Kesma''s agreement to let Mason leave with Julian for Ternell wasn''t because Julian had become wealthy and could provide a luxurious life for his eldest son. It was because Julian was in danger and needed someone behind him, someone who could support him wholeheartedly.


    This person couldn''t be a stranger, friend, or even a close companion; it had to be family¡ªblood relatives who could be completely trusted.


    Simultaneously, it was a means of protecting Mason and the Kesma family members.


    Mr. Kesma, though a farmer, possessed his own wisdom. He knew that only if Julian continued to grow stronger would the entire family achieve true safety. Rather than hoping enemies would put down their weapons, it was better to send them to hell before they had a chance to strike!


    Grasping Mason''s neck, Mr. Kesma suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion. He shook his hand and drove the two troublemakers out of his "palace." He then tidied up the room, placed the wooden box containing the gun into his "secret treasure vault"¡ªwhich everyone knew about¡ªand locked it away.


    Dinner had a peculiar atmosphere. Beneath Mr. Kesma''s expressionless, authoritative face, waves of intense emotions simmered. The children were already aware that Mason would be leaving with Julian for the big city tomorrow, and the idea filled them with a temptation they had never experienced before.


    No one doesn''t yearn for freedom, especially when someone close to them has already attained it!


    The children exchanged glances, occasionally kicking each other under the table. Mrs. Kesma shot a glare at Mr. Kesma, who pretended not to notice.


    It had taken so long for the family to gather together again, only to have the atmosphere ruined by Mr. Kesma''s stoic face.


    Enough was enough!


    Dinner was simple, with ingredients sourced from the farm and a tiny ranch that had just two cows, four sheep, a dozen geese, and twenty or thirty chickens... Oh, and an old dog too feeble to run, who watched its descendants roam the pastures.


    As they ate the familiar meal and shared urban anecdotes, the atmosphere finally began to warm up. Surrounded by the envious, jealous, and expectant eyes of his siblings, Mason''s last family dinner came to an end.


    After clearing the table, Mrs. Kesma took the children out of the dining room. She had a feeling Julian and Mr. Kesma had something to discuss.


    The tense atmosphere felt almost tangible, and it lasted for a while before Julian pursed his lips and took out the money from his pocket.


    Aside from the thousand dollars he had given Mr. Kesma earlier, he had five thousand more, all in fifty-dollar bills¡ªa hundred in total. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "What good is this money?" Mr. Kesma asked, neither taking it nor putting it away, but posing a question instead.


    Julian nodded. "I need your help with something small."


    Sometimes, Mr. Kesma was truly fascinating, as he didn''t act at all like a simple, honest farmer. Using the word "honest" might create some misunderstanding, but that''s the truth.


    For example, when the now "high-flying" Julian pulled out five thousand dollars and asked Mr. Kesma for a "small favor," Mr. Kesma, who probably hadn''t seen such a large sum of money in his life, didn''t show the slightest excitement.


    His hands didn''t even tremble, as if the stack of money on the table were not five thousand dollars but merely fifty or even five dollars. His eyes lingered on the money for only about half a second before returning to Julian''s face without a hint of longing.


    "What does a farmer like me need to do for you?" Mr. Kesma adjusted his position, pressing his back more firmly against the wicker chair.


    Julian was organizing his thoughts. His time in the city had taught him that the word "reason" encompasses more than its literal definition. Simply put, everything that can translate into tangible benefits¡ªmoney, subordinates, power, status, reputation¡ªcan be described as "reason." When two people are on an equal footing socially and in terms of influence, "reason" can be communicated verbally.


    But when there is an imbalance of power or status, "reason" is often not something to be spoken but to be acted upon.


    How could one elevate their level of "reason"?


    Julian had considered various avenues, such as becoming a white glove for a powerful figure like Wood or Gador or serving as a cleaner who handles dirty work.


    However, these paths not only required him to have greater strength and influence but also took time to build. Trust is not built in three or five days or with a few words; it takes years to establish and can be destroyed in an instant.


    What Julian needed was a solid foundation, not a castle built on water.

 Chapter 124 - 124 Legal Wrongdoing And Legal Evasion

    He wanted Mr. Kesma to help bribe another sheriff in town¡ªor, as they were formally called, a chief. During the National Defense War, also known as the Civil War, the Empire had followed the chancellor''s advice and granted rural areas, like towns and villages, the authority to form local guard units to resist the relentless assaults of the federal army.


    The ultimate executors of this order were the local sheriffs, who would become the leaders and commanders of these guard units. Additionally, the Empire had granted these sheriffs another crucial privilege.


    They could purchase standard-issue rifles, and even war machinery and weapon platforms, at a low cost from the military arsenal.


    This policy proved highly effective during the war. The wealthier one was, the more afraid they were of dying. At the start of the war, the nobles still held vast lands in the Empire, making them the true landowners.


    Consequently, this policy pushed the nobles to the warfront¡ªeither they "donated" money to arm local guard units and purchased advanced weaponry to fend off potential invaders, or they fled to the imperial capital and lamented the destruction of their lands, wealth, and estates by war.


    So, many nobles gritted their teeth and handed over large sums to arm the local guard units, to the point where some noble territories had guard units more heavily armed than the Empire''s regular army.


    But!


    They got swindled.


    With the new decree signed by the Emperor, the "National Defense War Special Requisition Act," heavily armed local guard units were absorbed and restructured into the regular army. In other words, the Empire used noble-funded armies for battle without paying any price.


    Although this left many nobles resentful and indignant, they had to swallow their grievances and act as if they were willing to sacrifice everything for the Empire, fearing the consequences of losing the war.


    After the war, many noble-formed armies, as well as Guar and Ordinian troops, suffered heavy losses on the battlefield. This quelled the brewing class conflicts almost instantly. Conspiracy theorists even suggested that the Imperial family had colluded with the New Party to betray the nobles, ending the centuries-long feudal monarchy.


    This betrayal stemmed from the royal family''s exploitation of the nobles wealth and resources through war policies, sowing seeds of discontent.


    Regardless of the causes and outcomes, the local guard policy was never rescinded after the war, as if forgotten, and it remains enforceable by wartime laws to this day. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This raises another question: Are the wealthy and influential exploiting this loophole?


    The answer is no. Although the wartime policy was never repealed, the New Party, upon taking office, imposed numerous restrictions. For example, during peacetime, a town''s local guard unit couldn''t have more than seven members or more than three rifles, and war machines or platforms were strictly forbidden.


    The Imperial Investigation Bureau even had agents patrolling the Empire, and the local gendarmerie strictly enforced these regulations.


    Thus, for the wealthy, spending money on such endeavors was pointless. It was more effective to invest in a group of ruthless enforcers.


    But was there really no other loophole to exploit?


    Not entirely. According to the "Rights and Duties of Local Guard Units During Peacetime," if dangerous wild animals appeared near a town or village, the guards were required to eliminate them to protect citizens'' property and rights.


    And who decides if such "dangerous" animals are around? The sheriff!


    Seven members might not seem like much, but if these seven men were well-trained and armed with three rifles, their impact would far exceed the sum of their numbers.


    Imagine if, during a standoff where both sides were evenly matched or even if Julian was slightly at a disadvantage, a highly trained seven-man squad with rifles suddenly launched a surprise attack from behind. The result would be catastrophic!


    Julian organized his words and then expressed his request. Mr. Kesma did not agree immediately. Instead, he curiously observed Julian, as if he were meeting this "stranger" for the first time. After scrutinizing him for about half a minute, Mr. Kesma asked with interest, "Have you been reading recently?


    How do you know all this?"


    Julian was momentarily stunned; he hadn''t expected Mr. Kesma''s thoughts to jump in such an odd direction. Instead of addressing the requests that could arguably be said to violate imperial law, he was inquiring if Julian had been reading.


    Julian quickly recovered and nodded, "Yes, Father, I''ve been reading whenever I have free time. In the city, I learned how to read and write, and I even befriended a lawyer so rotten that his feet were practically festering. When he left Ternell City for the capital, he threw away some things he no longer needed and passed them on to me!"


    When Kevin left, he didn''t bother taking those worthless professional books with him. For a lawyer like him, who had already signed with one of the biggest law firms in the empire, any reasonable needs would be met by the firm, including a complete set of deluxe law books.


    In fact, many of these exquisitely bound and hefty legal volumes¡ªlike art pieces¡ªweren''t for the firm''s lawyers to read, but rather for the clients seeking consultation to "see."


    These books were essential decorations for any law firm. The more lavish and refined they were, the more they symbolized some inexplicable strength. So Kevin left them behind, taking only some decent clothing and sentimental items. Before leaving, he handed Julian the books and advised him to read through them whenever he had time.


    In Kevin''s words, to succeed in society, one must first master "legal wrongdoing" and then "legal evasion." Only by achieving these two points could one climb the stairs to success without losing balance over an unnoticed pebble and plummeting from the heights.


    Julian listened to Kevin''s advice attentively and remembered it well. Through his interactions with Kevin, he sensed the ever-present shackles of both divine and imperial law, binding everyone. Yet, some people could effortlessly break these chains and commit crimes in "legal" ways.


    Remarkable, isn''t it?

 Chapter 125 - 125 What Did Father Do In The Past?

    Remarkable, isn''t it?


    One hand holds the sacred code, while the other grips a weapon...


    So, in his spare time, Julian would read the books, and this time, his idea stemmed from information in the Star Empire Special Statutes, along with Kevin''s advice on exploiting loopholes. He even sent a telegram to Kevin, who was thriving in the capital.


    Seeing Julian admit he had been reading, Mr. Kesma''s lips curved into a slight smile, which quickly vanished. He pressed his palm on the table, tapping rhythmically with his fingers, producing a steady "thud, thud."


    After a while, he nodded solemnly. "That old drunkard and I actually have a decent relationship, and there are quite a few Guar people in town who want to volunteer as guards, we will start training them next week."


    Julian was genuinely surprised; he hadn''t expected Mr. Kesma, who had never left the town since Mason was born, to think this way. It caught him off guard. Perhaps noticing the astonishment and disbelief in Julian''s eyes, a proud smile appeared on Mr. Kesma''s stern face. He raised an eyebrow, placed a hand on the stack of fifty-dollar bills, and stood up.


    His rugged, calloused hands were full of wrinkles, but at that moment, they seemed to possess an indescribable power. He casually pocketed the five thousand dollars, walked over to Julian, and patted his shoulder. "You little rascal, still too young!"


    Julian could only nod in agreement, filled with confusion. What Mr. Kesma had said was precisely what he had planned to suggest, but Mr. Kesma beat him to it. Julian had no intention of using his money to train seven highly capable local security guards for the empire. Instead, he would nominate people worthy of being "volunteer guards," who would be fed and housed but not paid.


    At the same time, he would privately compensate them generously, winning their loyalty. If the old drunkard didn''t comply, Julian would replace him, taking complete control of the "military power" in Purple Clover Town. But how did Mr. Kesma come up with this?


    Julian watched Mr. Kesma''s back disappear at the top of the stairs leading to the second floor. He then immediately sought out Mrs. Kesma.


    "Mother, what did Father do in the past?" At that moment, Mrs. Kesma was taking care of Lilith, who was bathing. Seeing Julian burst in, Lilith shyly ducked into the water, leaving only her head exposed. Her long hair floated on the surface; in different lighting and surroundings, Julian might have run away in embarrassment.


    Mrs. Kesma didn''t turn around, smiling. "What else could he do? From the time I met him, he was a farmer. But I must say, he was quite a fine young man back then, far more skilled at farming than anyone else. Otherwise, I wouldn''t have married him!"


    Mrs. Kesma''s answer left Julian even more perplexed. Was it just a flash of inspiration? Fortunately, he didn''t dwell on it and shifted his attention to Mason, planning to secure a position for him.


    Regional police departments were highly autonomous, with the director having the final say in everything. To secure a branch director position, one had to get past Pronto. Luckily, Pronto had already taken the bait, and this time Julian would pay him until he was satisfied.


    Of course, Julian also understood that Pronto might not demand a large bribe. He might even handle it for free, but whether he wanted money or not wasn''t up to him.


    ...


    The sound of his grumpy old wife''s nagging and the clatter of pots and pans echoed in the ears of the drunken sheriff of Purple Clover Town. He opened his blurry eyes, reached out to pull at the corner of the curtain, and found that the sky outside was still dark and murky. He couldn''t tell if it was early morning or if nighttime had merely passed a bit.


    His throat felt as dry as if something were tearing at it. He groaned uncomfortably a couple of times, the room spinning, as he sat up and put on his slippers. He switched on the dim bedside lamp and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was midnight. He stared at the clock for about twenty seconds, then picked it up and wound it, letting it resume its rhythmic ticking.


    Thirst and headaches were among the many unpleasant side effects of cheap homemade liquor. Supporting himself with both hands on the bed, he stood up, walked over to the table, picked up a glass, and tilted it back, but not a single drop of water came out.


    A restless agitation flickered in his gray eyes, and his wife''s nagging and complaints made his head throb even more. The banging of pots and pans was simply unbearable. He breathed heavily, grabbed the hunting rifle that hung crosswise on the wall, and charged out of the bedroom. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It wasn''t a mere decoration; it was only treated as one by the owner of the room.


    The kitchen?


    No!


    The bathroom?


    No!


    When the sheriff reached the living room, he saw a shadowy figure standing in the corner. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. The bullet spun and roared out of the muzzle, accompanied by a small puff of white mist.


    With a bang, something shattered, and the shadow slid slowly down the wall to the floor. The nagging and complaining instantly disappeared, and an overwhelming calmness washed over him.


    The sheriff staggered over, muttering incomprehensibly. He knelt in front of the figure, touched the bullet-torn floorboards, and glanced around with alertness.


    "I''ll find you!" the sheriff coughed. "I swear!"


    He walked to the kitchen, turned on the faucet, and drank the metallic-tasting water in greedy gulps. Once he was satisfied, he cursed under his breath and stumbled back to bed, collapsing into another deep slumber.


    Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating a black and white photo on the living room cabinet. In the photo, a gentle looking woman smiled at anyone who glanced her way.

 Chapter 126 - 126 We Are Friends

    The next morning, the curtain he had yanked open the night before couldn''t keep out the blazing sunlight. Shielding his eyes from the harsh rays, the sheriff slowly woke up, lifting a hand to block the light. His mind blank, he glanced at the hunting rifle, then turned to hang it back on the wall above the bed.


    He had a severe illness, but few people knew. Most thought he was merely a hopeless drunk who would never wake up. Only those familiar with him understood he used alcohol as medicine.


    He rubbed his face, the crust in his eyes scratching his cheeks painfully. Expressionless, he walked over to the wardrobe mirror, diligently changed into his uniform symbolizing justice and righteousness, pinned on his badge, saluted the mirror with perfect form, and left the bedroom, leaving the house.


    Before stepping out, he grabbed a bottle of homemade moonshine from the table, the kind that was stronger than typical low-proof liquor but not quite as potent as the illegal distilleries'' products.


    He bit off the cap and gulped a mouthful, just about to head out the door when someone shoved him back inside.


    "Well, well, look who it is¡ªMr. Kesma!" The sheriff''s tone grew sharp, a flicker of surprise in his eyes quickly replaced by wariness.


    Mr. Kesma''s stoic, expressionless face was like an artist''s sculpture, not a single muscle betraying movement. He removed his round hat and placed it on the coat rack, surveying the room before shaking his head. He walked to the filthy rattan chair in the living room, flipped everything off of it, and sat down.


    "What are you doing here?" The sheriff set the bottle of liquor back on the table, his face dark as he sat across from Mr. Kesma. "Have you forgotten our agreement? Unless we''re facing life or death, neither of us should contact the other!"


    Mr. Kesma did the unthinkable¡ªhe shrugged. Even more shocking, he uttered a name that didn''t exist in town, "Walter¡­"


    "Shut up! That''s not my name!" The sheriff erupted with rage, ready to pounce, but froze when he saw the calmness in Mr. Kesma''s eyes. He sat back down stiffly. "No, I''m not Walter. There is no such person.


    Call me ''Johnson,'' Mr. Kesma!"


    Mr. Kesma retrieved an ornate metal case from his pocket, took out two cigarettes, placed one in his mouth, and tossed the other to "Johnson." He pulled out a finely crafted silver lighter, lit his own cigarette, and raised his chin slightly, giving Johnson a cold, unwavering stare. A stranger might have been infuriated or, at the very least, displeased by Mr.


    Kesma''s attitude, but Johnson knew it was just Mr. Kesma''s way of flaunting his vanity.


    He''d been doing it, annoying everyone with his boastful manner, for decades!


    "I know you have a fine son; everyone in town knows," Johnson said, lighting his cigarette with the silver lighter and inhaling deeply. He fiddled with the lighter in his hands. "But so what? That has nothing to do with me. Listen, I don''t want trouble, and I don''t want trouble finding me. Got it?"


    Mr. Kesma exhaled a cloud of smoke, flicked the ash from his cigarette. The ash fell to the floor in a pristine lump, only to be scattered by a gust of wind from the doorway. He spoke with the same cold indifference as before: "We are friends."


    When Mr. Kesma said those words, Sheriff Johnson visibly flinched. Those words had once been a nightmare for many, keeping anyone who heard them from sleeping soundly. But today, it was clear he was not hearing those words as the embodiment of "justice."


    Conflict shone in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw twitching. Sweat trickled down his hair, and his lips trembled so much that he dropped his cigarette, which landed softly on the floor.


    "What do you want me to do?"


    ...


    Julian had no idea that the trouble he thought would require a large sum of money to silence the sheriff was resolved with just a single sentence from Mr. Kesma. All it cost Kesma was one cigarette.


    Although the current situation in Ternell City seemed stable, it was far from secure. The longer Julian stayed away from Ternell City, the more issues would arise, like the always-hidden Heidler. Before leaving, Heidler had left a message for Julian, hoping to meet as soon as possible.


    This meeting wouldn''t be easy. For someone like Heidler, a wealthy industrialist whose success was built on his ancestors'' betrayal of the nation, every action had to align with the interests of the Empire. Even if he was unwilling, he had to comply. Numerous "extreme Guar nationalists" who dreamed of judging him constantly made dangerous remarks.


    To protect his life and assets, he had to cling tightly to the Empire''s authority.


    It was well-known that the Guar people had particularly brutal ways of dealing with "traitors." If the Guar monarchy hadn''t been overthrown and if Heidler weren''t now a significant figure in high society under the Empire''s rule, he might have already been skinned and crucified, left to scream for three days and nights to complete his judgment.


    Thus, Heidler''s desire to personally control the community association was impossible. He needed an "anonymous deputy" to handle it for him, and Julian was his top choice. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian could easily guess why Heidler wanted to meet him. It wasn''t to gain more wealth from the community association or from Julian himself; he wanted the association itself. With such a force under his control, he could achieve things he currently couldn''t, and this force was crucial to his plans. He could use others, but he wouldn''t feel secure.


    Julian was a Guar and ambitious. Ambition often equates to "desire," a limitless and instinctive source of human motivation. Julian craved money, power, and higher social status¡ªall of which Heidler could provide. It wasn''t an exaggeration to say that with Heidler''s status, a few words could save Julian fifteen or twenty years of struggle and elevate him into the Empire''s high society.

 Chapter 127 - 127 Every Person Is Assigned A Price

    Although Julian was Heidler''s first choice, he wasn''t the only one. Heidler planned to meet Julian but was also trying to contact other members of the community association. If anyone was willing to bow to reality for "ambition," Heidler wouldn''t hesitate to extend a hand of friendship.


    Another pressing issue was Dave.


    Dave had a problem¡ªnot with loyalty or physical health, but with emotions. Some fool once said, "The essence and only true love is in the exchange of bodily fluids." It seemed that during his role-playing as Jon, Dave had developed inappropriate feelings for Mrs. Vivian. This was a serious problem.


    For people in high society, chaotic personal lives weren''t considered disgraceful, especially among the old party elites. Almost every notable figure had several semi-official lovers. In the past, under a feudal monarchy, the nobility was notorious for their chaotic personal lives, playing absurd games for the thrill of mental and physical pleasure.


    But there was always a line: no emotional attachment.


    For example, when a married woman had several lovers, people might call her "flirtatious." But if she spent meaningful time with someone else beyond pleasure, she would be labeled a harlot.


    During the age of feudal monarchy and divine law, all laws were crafted for the benefit of the ruling class. Whether or not to follow them was a different matter. The real problem here was that Dave seemed to have fallen for Mrs. Vivian, and she seemed to have fallen for him.


    This was a messy situation. Julian repeatedly questioned the plausibility of Mrs. Vivian¡ªa woman who had seen and survived countless storms¡ªfalling for someone like Dave, who wasn''t even of Ordinian heritage. Julian suspected Mrs. Vivian might have discovered something or that the relationship had transcended simple flirtation and evolved into something more profound.


    But Dave claimed that he could feel Mrs. Vivian''s genuine affection in fleeting moments.


    Two people who shouldn''t have fallen in love had developed feelings, and Julian was the unlucky one caught in the middle.


    The Mayor could tolerate his wife secretly meeting other men, but emotional infidelity was another matter entirely. Both Dave and Julian were in deep trouble. Their opponent this time was likely one of Ternell City''s three major powers: the Mayor. However, there was a sliver of good news: Gador was now a thing of the past, and Wood had returned to the embrace of the Lord.


    Carrell and Ernst were openly fighting with Julian, but the three of them had already formed a trading company and were secretly planning to expand their territory.


    The only threats to Julian were a nearly defunct small gang and the "Flaming Skull" gang, led by Tiger, which ran a technical service center providing distinctive services mainly funded by human trafficking.


    The latter was the real concern, but the Flaming Skull''s combat strength wasn''t impressive. Subduing young girls didn''t require much force or courage, just a fierce appearance and a ruthless heart.


    The Mayor''s lack of reliable personnel gave Julian more time to address the issue, but he needed to return as soon as possible.


    After a family lunch, it was time to say goodbye. Mr. Kesma, still impatient, left immediately after eating. Mrs. Kesma, with tearful eyes, piled meat onto Julian and Mason''s plates, giving them heartfelt instructions.


    When Julian and Mason were about to get into the car, Mr. Kesma smacked their shoulders hard, making them stumble backward. "Remember, you are Kesma''s children. No matter the difficulties, never give up easily!"


    "Get going, you brats!"


    Mrs. Kesma''s gaze couldn''t hold back the forward momentum of the rolling wheels, disappearing into the countryside''s autumn scenery. Mason was extremely excited, continuously stroking the leather seats, though he felt a bit restrained, his eyes curiously taking in everything within reach. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Is this your car? Must have cost quite a bit, huh?" Mason laughed awkwardly, wanting to raise a hand and pat the shoulder of his younger brother, with whom he had always shared a good relationship since childhood. But his hand stopped an inch away, unsure whether it was due to the unexplainable aura of authority around his brother or the pristine, expensive white suit he was wearing.


    Julian casually shoved a pack of cigarettes into Mason''s hand, grinning. "This car? I actually stole it. If it were up to me, I''d find a truck far more useful than this fancy-looking sedan."


    Mason took the cigarettes, withdrawing his arm, and stared wide-eyed at Julian, utterly incredulous. Did he really just say he stole this car? God Almighty, Mason couldn''t believe his ears. He, the middle brother of the three¡ªMason, Julian, and their eldest sister¡ªknew Julian''s kind-hearted nature all too well. How could the Julian he knew commit such an act?


    Julian noticed Mason''s skeptical gaze but knew that explanations might be pointless. He simply shrugged, rolling down the car window. The countryside breeze was different from the city air, carrying a hint of sweetness mixed with the earthy smell of soil. Here, with fewer concrete roads and no steel jungles, the aroma of dirt and wildflowers dominated.


    The cigarette Julian lit glowed brightly in the wind. He took a puff, then turned to Mason. "I get it. For the longest time, we imagined big cities as heavenly places. But when you''re actually in one, you gradually realize it''s not heaven; it''s the gateway to hell." He took another drag, the wind tousling his hair and making him look effortlessly carefree.


    Mason, mimicking Julian, rolled down his own window and lit a cigarette, enviously observing how his brother, in just three months away from home, had become a completely different person.


    With the cigarette between his fingers, Julian arrogantly yet casually pointed ahead. "In the city, money is everything. Every person is assigned a price, high or low, based on their status and background, but never on what they can actually do.


    "The former represents high society in people''s eyes, while the latter¡­"


    Julian sneered, wagging his finger. "People like us, my dear brother, are just low-class nobodies." He tilted his head, dodging the ash blown back by the wind, and continued, "So if you don''t want to live underfoot, humiliated, what do you do? Of course, you fight for it with your life. At least in that regard, we''re no different from the elites¡ªwe both only get one shot."

 Chapter 128 - 128 Buying Suits

    "So, my dear older brother, if you think the city is heaven, it''ll end up being your eternal resting place. But if you understand me and see it as the gate to hell, maybe we can struggle a little longer. Don''t you think?"


    Mason swallowed hard. He suddenly realized that moving to the big city to start a new life might not be as simple as he''d imagined. Thankfully, every Kesma family member had some decent qualities, one of which was the willingness to ask questions when they didn''t understand something.


    Mason tossed his cigarette out, straightened his posture¡ªa habit he''d picked up as a rookie cop¡ªand asked earnestly, "What should I do?"


    This was exactly why Julian was willing to bring his brother to the city. Firstly, he trusted him completely. Secondly, Mason never did anything "outside the plan," especially if he wasn''t the one who made the plan. He was reliable, controllable, and wouldn''t act recklessly¡ªthe perfect candidate.


    "Listen, I''m going to buy you a precinct chief''s position¡­" Mason''s sudden flinch interrupted Julian, who rolled his eyes before continuing. "My dear brother, it''s just a precinct chief. You''ll only have twenty or thirty people under you. There are three others like you in the city, and above you all is the central department. It''s no big deal, got it?


    We managed to bring down Gador the Lizard, so I''ll set you up in the East District, where I''m gradually shifting my influence."


    "Once you''re in office, you only have two tasks. First, spend money¡ªspend it like crazy. Use any means to burn through it. I''ll have someone teach you how. Second, get rid of the unnecessary people and replace them with the right ones, then maintain the appearance of law and order. That''s it.


    I trust you''ll handle it well. It''s way easier than being a country sheriff!"


    "I''m not a sheriff; I''m a cop!"


    Julian raised a hand and laughed. "Same difference!"


    Mason looked nervous. "I''m not sure I can do it. I might disappoint you," he said sincerely. Julian''s depiction of the city painted it as a dark, decaying castle full of destruction. Mason wasn''t sure he could navigate it as effortlessly as Julian, who seemed to thrive there like a fish in water.


    Sometimes he envied Julian, the first to leave home, bearing heavy burdens but also the first to succeed, excelling in everything he did...


    Julian, however, turned to him, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. "There are no cowardly soldiers in the Kesma family! Watch out, or I''ll report you to the General!" It was an inside joke. For the longest time, they''d all likened Mr. Kesma to a ruthless general, and they were his soldiers. They even called him the General behind his back until he caught on and put a stop to it.


    Mason rubbed his shoulder and straightened his back.


    Full of both anxiety and anticipation, the brothers arrived at what Julian had called the gate to hell. Mason was awestruck by the bustling streets and the sheer number of people and goods on display for the first time in his life.


    The car pulled up in front of Paul''s Tailoring Shop, one of the finest in the city, catering exclusively to elite clientele. The shop''s three master tailors frequently traveled to Olodo to stay updated on the latest fashion trends, ensuring top-notch service for their customers. This had earned the shop an impressive reputation.


    Julian needed two new suits for himself and decided to order two for Mason as well. As much as he hated to admit it, appearances mattered.


    Through the modest shop window, they saw what looked like a family of four getting fitted for clothes. Julian couldn''t help but feel a strange twinge of emotion. Three months ago, he had come here seeking a respectable job, but the tailor had turned him away, saying they didn''t need any apprentices. The tailor had even dismissed him with a contemptuous look and a single dime.


    Yet now, only three months later, their roles had dramatically reversed. The thought brought a smile to Julian''s face.


    Perhaps that was one of the driving forces behind ambitious people, always striving to be above others.


    Ding-ling~


    The door opened!


    "Hello, esteemed guest. Paul''s Tailoring is a bespoke clothing shop with a long history. The third-generation owner once crafted seasonal fashion attire for princes and princesses of that era, blending trendiness with elegance, sophistication with maturity. If you have a membership card, we will arrange for a tailor familiar with your preferences to serve you immediately!" S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As soon as the door opened, a young girl dressed in a white shirt and a shiny brown blazer bowed and recited a well-rehearsed introduction she had repeated countless times. Her voice was gentle, her pace steady, and each word enunciated perfectly, clearly the result of rigorous training¡ªa testament to the power of money in this world.


    You wouldn''t find this kind of service or guidance at the crowded, budget tailoring shops by the roadside, where making a suit for two or three dollars meant chopping fabric into big pieces and stitching it roughly. Buying clothes from such places was more like buying fabric since, more often than not, you''d have to make adjustments to the ill-fitted garments when you got home.


    And remember, in those places, never give precise measurements like height, sleeve length, or chest and hip circumference. These details were meaningless. Instead, give a ballpark figure, adding about ten centimeters to your height. For example, say something like, "A suit for a big guy about six-foot-two." Then you could adjust the outfit later.


    But if you gave too detailed a measurement, congratulations¡ªyour younger brother or child would have a new set of clothes instead.


    Here, it was completely different. Skilled tailors didn''t even need a measuring tape. A simple hand measurement would yield an incredibly accurate number, down to the centimeter.


    They would then tailor the clothing based on factors like your profession, the occasion, time of day, the event''s prestige, the social class of those attending, your own social standing, the purpose of the event, and the impression you wanted to convey¡ªconsidering over twenty to thirty criteria. For a bit more money, they could even suggest accessories to match perfectly.

 Chapter 129 - 129 Being looked down upon

    This was the life of the nobility and the upper class: luxurious and dignified.


    The girl''s gaze instinctively fell to the shoes of the group entering. A hint of impatience flickered in her eyes. Not everyone had the self-awareness to know where they belonged. Paul''s was a prestigious brand in Ternell City, well-known but just as exclusive as other luxury labels. These people wore shoes worth a few dollars at best, perhaps ten at the most!


    This tier of society had no business getting a membership, let alone ordering custom suits. Sometimes, class differences were brutally evident. Whether in the past or now, social hierarchies were as rigid as city walls, long since lost to war but always reminding people of their existence whenever they stood nearby.


    Social class had long been etched into the bones and souls of people, compelling them to comply, to obey.


    Class instilled unparalleled fear in the lower ranks and unimaginable arrogance in the upper ones.


    The girl straightened up. She wasn''t from an elite family nor did she have impressive social status, but as an apprentice and shop assistant at Paul''s, she knew that if she made no mistakes and married a direct descendant of the Paul family, she might one day sit behind a screen, catering to high society''s true elites.


    She might even become a mistress to one of these important figures before that day came.


    She never considered herself part of the lower class; she belonged, at least, to the social elite.


    Once she straightened, her assumption was confirmed. That handsome young man in the white suit had come here before, wanting to become an apprentice, and had been very "politely" shown out. In the girl''s eyes, that was an act of etiquette and moral propriety¡ªa graceful refusal, with a dime given as a token of apology.


    "Sorry, we don''t take on apprentices," she said, still smiling. Her tailoring instructor had taught her that one must never lose a smile, whether dealing with a poor or ordinary person. To the lower classes, a smile displayed one''s refined virtues. To the upper classes, it signified humble courtesy. Smiling was never wrong.


    Julian glanced at the three screens in the shop. Only the innermost one was visible from outside, the other two hidden away, bright lights shining but no shadows moving.


    He looked back at the girl, asking casually, "I''d like to get a¡­ no, five membership cards. How much?"


    Five?


    The girl drew a sharp breath and instinctively straightened, not to show off her figure but out of shock. At Paul''s, membership cards came in three tiers: three-year, five-year, and permanent. Even the cheapest three-year card cost 1,500 dollars. And no, that wasn''t a prepaid deposit or credit; it was purely for the privilege of membership.


    Want a custom suit? Sure, but keep spending!


    Five cards would be 7,500 dollars. The girl felt a twinge of embarrassment, as she was convinced this young man was mocking her.


    But she kept her polished smile and slightly bowed her head. "I''m sorry, sir, but it takes more than money to get a membership card here. You also need the appropriate social standing." Her smile widened a fraction, and she felt a strange satisfaction at saying that. She looked at the handsome boy with a pitying, sincere smile, one she thought was full of genuine regret.


    Sorry, but this world isn''t for the lower class!


    How cruel she was, shattering a young boy''s illusion of a beautiful world! S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The pretty young attendant had barely managed to lean at the counter and enjoy a moment of rest. When she peeked through her fingers and saw that handsome young man in the white suit striding toward the last fitting room, with another visibly nervous fellow following closely behind.


    Oh Lord above¡ªthat room belonged to Mr. Dumas!


    Dumas Paul, to drop some unnecessary flourish, was the head tailor and manager of Paul''s Tailoring in Ternell City. The success of this small tailor shop had allowed the Paul family to open branches in several major cities in the Empire''s southeastern region. After the New Party''s successful coup, capital had flourished.


    To expand their influence and cope with the limited number of family members, the head of the Paul family had established a rule.


    It was called the "Apprentice Integration Program." The old patriarch believed that if there were suitable and talented apprentices, they could marry into the family, becoming one of their own and helping to extend Paul''s Tailoring''s influence. The plan was a brilliant strategy.


    Tailors trained apprentices, but without any constraints, apprentices would often leave upon mastering their craft, seeking to open their own shops and embarking on their so-called "shameless first ventures."


    That''s why Julian had never been accepted as an apprentice at any artisan shop. He hadn''t met the standard for "inheritance." In simpler terms, master artisans picked apprentices not just as students but as potential successors or even family members. Apprentices were carefully selected and strictly controlled.


    Few apprentices, after mastering their craft, would willingly continue under the "exploitation" of their mentors. They preferred to start anew, working solely for themselves rather than anyone else.


    The young girl was one such lucky candidate. Mr. Dumas''s eldest son, sixteen, was two years younger than her. He believed that a clever and capable girl who could care for his son for a lifetime was a worthy investment. Even better, once they married and she had the skills to manage a shop independently, his eldest son would be ensured a life of comfort. A worthwhile investment, indeed.


    Of course, Julian knew nothing about this. Right now, he only wanted the best tailor in the shop to make suits for himself, Mason, Dave, Airlis, and that fool Graf. Everything else was irrelevant.


    Mr. Dumas, at thirty-seven, was a slender man with dry skin, light wrinkles, and thick, well-maintained hair. He wore glasses and was lounging in a rocking chair, eyes closed in rest.


    When Julian entered the fitting room, he noticed that the seemingly bright light from outside was actually softened by a lampshade, leaving half the room gently illuminated while the other half cast light on a translucent screen.

 Chapter 130 - 130 I Like Clever People

    Julian politely knocked on the table. The sound jolted Mr. Dumas awake. He sat up suddenly, and his gold-rimmed glasses slid down his nose. Thankfully, a chain attached to the arms of the glasses kept them from crashing to the floor. As he stood and adjusted his glasses, he gave a small, apologetic smile, bowing slightly.


    "I''m terribly sorry. I''ve been working all morning and got a bit tired. My apologies. Today, all orders will receive a ten percent discount."


    As he bowed, his expression briefly changed, then adjusted back. That damned girl! Hadn''t she thought to warn him beforehand? Embarrassing oneself before such a distinguished guest was unacceptable! Her pay would be docked!


    Julian was quite satisfied with the "old gentleman''s" dedication to his work. He pointed to himself and then to Mason. "Hello, we need two formal suits for an evening banquet. If it can be expedited, please do."


    Mr. Dumas dutifully picked up a notebook, momentarily surprised, then quickly smiled and said, "Forgive me, I haven''t yet asked for your name or this gentleman''s name¡­" After Julian introduced them, Mr. Dumas jotted down the names and the request. He then directed Julian to stand under a particularly bright lamp and began taking measurements.


    As he worked, he asked various questions, the whole process lasting about ten minutes. When he finished, he swiftly cut out a paper mock-up of a suit and loosely pinned it together, laying it before Julian.


    "Mr. Julian, here is the suit design I''ve come up with for you. I''ve incorporated this spring''s minimalist trend, which is becoming popular in the southern and central regions. I removed the subtle piping along the collar edge, favored by many gentlemen, to give it a more refined and grand appearance. It''s less playful, adding an air of nobility and gravity..."


    Julian raised a hand, and Mr. Dumas immediately fell silent, bending slightly with a listening expression. "I don''t like purple," Julian said. Yes, he disliked purple because it reminded him of that effeminate Delier, whose all-purple outfits were annoyingly flamboyant.


    Mr. Dumas''s face lit up in understanding, and he nodded vigorously. "If you''re not fond of purple, would a deep brown suit be to your liking?"


    After another twenty minutes, during which Julian felt sweat bead on his forehead, Mr. Dumas finally wrapped up his explanations. Julian couldn''t help but feel relieved¡ªlucky, even, that the shop hadn''t accepted him as an apprentice back then. He certainly wouldn''t have survived!


    Then it was Mason''s turn. Nearly forty minutes later, both paper prototypes were complete. Mr. Dumas calculated the total cost and presented it to Julian. "Mr. Julian, for four suits and the rental agreement with Imperial Jewelry for accessories, the total is 3,700 dollars.


    However, given my oversight and the error by my staff that may have caused some confusion or dissatisfaction, I''m offering a reduced price of 3,300 dollars.


    "I must also remind you that the rental fee for the Imperial Jewelry accessories isn''t included. You''ll need to take the agreement to any Imperial Jewelry store to pay the rental fee, and a specialist will help you choose and wear the accessories. Any other questions?"


    Julian glanced at Mr. Dumas and smiled. "You''re a clever man, and I like clever people. Now, I''d like to get five membership cards. Is that possible?"


    Mr. Dumas, as if unaware of any prior issues, nodded readily. "Of course. It would be an honor for the Paul family to serve you. There will be no charge. I''ll arrange for five unlimited, nationwide membership cards immediately!"


    Dumas was undoubtedly a clever man. Not only did he have a remarkable talent in tailoring, but he also had profound expertise in social interaction and communication. When Julian didn''t present a membership certificate in the usual manner, Dumass immediately understood that, regardless of whether Julian was a member of Paul''s Tailoring, he at least needed to pass this immediate challenge.


    While tailor shops and clothing stores might not seem like the most information-laden places, the reality was quite the opposite. Most of Paul''s Tailoring clients were high-society individuals, who typically had access to the latest and fastest news.


    During the lengthy process of custom tailoring, it was unlikely they''d stay silent the entire time, dutifully cooperating with the tailors without saying a word. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    To pass the time, they would often chat with the tailor or discuss matters within their own circles with friends, allowing the tailors to pick up bits and pieces of information.


    Dumass had heard that recently, a young Guar named Julian had successively taken down "Wood the Lumberjack" and "Gador the Lizard," and was now one of the three major players in the city''s illicit alcohol industry, fending off resistance from the other two forces. Though the information about Julian was fragmented, Dumas had pieced together a fairly comprehensive understanding of him.


    Julian was a ruthless young man, but that wasn''t surprising; in a city as large as Ternell, ruthless young men were too numerous to count, hardly worth mentioning. What made Julian notable was that he wasn''t just ruthless; he was bold, audacious, and highly skilled in his dealings.


    In just a few months, he had achieved things others couldn''t accomplish over a much longer period, even things they wouldn''t dare to imagine.


    Thus, when Dumas asked Julian''s name and Julian responded, Dumas knew he had to avoid crossing this figure. Perhaps he didn''t realize that three months ago, this now-prominent "big figure" had once sought a job with him, only to be politely turned down. If Dumas had known, he wouldn''t have charged three thousand or even three hundred; he wouldn''t have dared to ask for a single coin.


    He might have even thrown in some money himself to ensure Julian''s goodwill and appease his wrath.


    "I''ll arrange for someone to pick up the clothes. Goodbye, sir!" Julian waved his hand and left with Mason.


    Once they departed, a girl came over with teary eyes. "They didn''t trouble you, did they, Mr. Dumas?"

 Chapter 131 - 131 Mason Join Ternell Police

    Dumas shook his head and placed Julian and Mason''s clothes at the top of the production line. Gentlemen differed from "thugs" like Julian. A gentleman wouldn''t excessively blame others'' foolishness for mistakes, but a thug would never admit his own errors, so Dumas knew what to do.


    Fortunately, the strict system allowed sufficient leeway between orders, so having someone cut the line wouldn''t delay the following deliveries¡ªa small blessing amidst the challenge.


    "Why didn''t you come to warn me?" At this moment, Mr. Dumas looked up at the girl. "You should''ve informed me immediately, instead of waiting until trouble was at my doorstep, young lady!" sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After leaving Paul''s Tailoring, Julian got into the car and simply said, "District police station," before falling into contemplation. Any enterprise needed both lawful and unconventional aspects to sustain itself. Certain gray industries, like the illegal alcohol business, could serve as quick, lucrative cash cows.


    However, for wider societal recognition, respect, and a place of status, one needed a legitimate identity and lawful businesses.


    The clothing industry was one of Julian''s considerations. In another world, the clothing industry was highly developed, especially in "luxury" and "world-renowned brands." Garments with mere tens of dollars in production costs could sell for thousands or even tens of thousands. In Julian''s understanding, apart from branding, what real difference did these clothes have from ordinary clothes?


    There might be some differences in fabric, as major brands had their own research facilities to create unique materials, but aside from that, there was mostly just design. They would send materials and styles to factories for processing, then re-import them to resell at massive markups, reaping hundredfold or thousandfold profits.


    In this world, fabric and design posed no issues at all. To this day, while the capitalists'' official spokespersons fervently advocated for "innovative knowledge like recipes to be protected and legislated," the Empire''s response remained sluggish.


    The reason lay in the New and Old Parties'' mutual exploitation of these recipes for profit, with no plans to relinquish this massive source of revenue anytime soon.


    Setting aside the issue of materials and design references, the remaining issue was production. The lack of mechanized production posed a significant challenge, but labor here was incredibly cheap. In some impoverished areas, as long as they provided food and paid a small wage, many would readily work under capital''s influence.


    Julian thought he could attempt to incorporate standardized clothing production as the first project for East Star and put it into action. His target wasn''t high-society big shots; instead, it was the middle and lower classes.


    Although selling clothes to them might not yield the same profits as custom-made clothes for elites, the middle and lower classes were the mainstream consumers, while the elite were only a small minority.


    Once they made a strong initial impact, such success would inevitably be replicable. They could quickly replicate this model across various regions of the Empire, seizing the market in a short time. By the time competitors reacted, Julian would have already cornered the market, firmly establishing an unassailable position whether through transformation or price wars.


    A sudden jolt as the car stopped snapped Julian out of his thoughts. Looking out of the window, he realized they''d arrived at the district police station, where Pronto was already walking out, holding his belly with a smug expression.


    Julian opened the door, his face beaming with enthusiasm as he stepped out and walked up to him. After a brief handshake, they headed inside. As they walked, Pronto asked, "What brings such an important figure like you here?"


    Julian didn''t hide his intentions. He raised his thumb and pointed behind him, "My brother, Mason¡ªI intend to set him up with a legitimate job. I heard a station chief is about to retire; it seems like a good opportunity." As they slowed for a moment, Julian gestured politely to a passing officer. "Excuse us," he said, slightly stepping aside as they continued inside.


    "I understand this might put you in a difficult position, but I assure you, I''ll make my intentions clear."


    He had a premonition!


    So, when he heard Julian bring up "sincerity" again, it made him uncomfortable. For the first time, he was genuinely afraid of accepting a bribe¡ªit was an unprecedented feeling!


    "This has nothing to do with sincerity!" Pronto pushed open his office door, holding the doorknob as he stepped inside. He waited for Julian and Mason to enter, then shut the door firmly. This was a signal to the secretary at the door: anyone visiting should notify Pronto first. Inside the director''s office, there was an inner room, a lounge for private moments when guests needed to step aside.


    He moved over to the bar and took out three glasses, intending to pour some liquor, but found the bottle empty. Glancing at the glasses in his hands, he resigned himself to moving to the coffee machine, where he poured three cups of coffee instead.


    Mason stood up and took the coffee Pronto handed over. Though he acted cautiously, he couldn''t help but feel a surge of pride¡ªafter all, the district police chief himself was pouring him a coffee. Turning his head slightly, he noticed Julian hadn''t even bothered to stand, and Pronto willingly set the coffee down in front of him.


    The three of them settled back down.


    "Yes, there is a director retiring soon," Pronto admitted, "but you should understand that I can''t just casually place a newcomer, someone without any foundation, into a substation chief position based on my personal preferences. The officers might not say anything directly, but internally, it could create turmoil. If their morale wavers and they turn away from me, that would be a huge loss.


    So, I say again, this has nothing to do with money." He lifted his glass and took a small sip of coffee, casting a glance at the earnest-faced Mason, wondering how these two could possibly be related by blood. He continued, "But if it''s for a sergeant position, that I can guarantee¡ªthere will be no issue whatsoever. Anytime, anywhere, even right now, I can arrange it."


    Julian, however, remained silent, reaching out to pinch the rim of his glass, rubbing it slowly as if he hadn''t heard Pronto''s reasoning at all.

 Chapter 132 - 132 You Could Try, And Maybe Everything Would End

    The district police chief held considerable power. While agents from the Criminal Investigation Bureau could question a local chief, even starting an investigation would require a permit signed by a prominent figure in the State Bureau of Investigation. Even if Pronto appointed a dog as a substation chief, no one would dare object.


    Clearly, all his reasoning was meant to avoid making this arrangement.


    Mason couldn''t comprehend why Julian wasn''t satisfied. A sergeant position! In the past, Mason had dreamed of becoming a sergeant within three years of being an officer. He had imagined it would take considerable time and perhaps even a modest sum¡ªaround fifty dollars¡ªto make that dream come true.


    But now, with everything unfolding as it was, he found himself questioning his worldview and even his own worth. Despite being family, brothers, the gap between them felt immense.


    He longed for Julian to agree immediately, but after several glances at Julian''s calm demeanor, he wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew well enough that simply sitting in this office was already a privilege granted by Julian''s power, and he had no reason to disrupt Julian''s original intentions.


    Julian looked like an old man fond of antiques, his eyes fixated on that plain glass worth a mere dollar. Pronto frowned, intending to say something, but Julian looked up just then.


    With a bright, admiring smile, Julian''s gaze sparkled with genuine warmth as he spoke, his voice full of praise and envy, "Chief Pronto, I really envy you, truly!"


    Pronto''s heart tightened, though he kept his expression neutral. He didn''t know what this young man intended, but a chill crept up his spine, making his hair stand on end. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Oh? Is that so? I''m just an out-of-shape local police chief¡ªwhat''s there to envy?" He picked up a thick-bottomed glass from the table.


    "If anything, it''s you who should be envied¡ªyoung, successful, wealthy, and handsome. I should be the one envying you!"


    "Chief Pronto, you flatter me," Julian replied courteously, though this only made Pronto more uneasy. Watching Julian with a strained smile, he waited for Julian''s next move, but Julian''s following words made his expression change entirely.


    "I hear your family is very happy, Chief Pronto. A beautiful wife and lovely children¡ªisn''t that something everyone would envy?"


    In the next moment, Pronto smashed the glass to the floor, sending splashes of murky coffee everywhere. He drew his pistol, pointing it at Julian. "Are you spying on me and my family? I''ll kill you!" The always-smiling police chief now looked ferocious, his voice seething with menace. For him, family was a sacred boundary.


    While many powerful people held a distant view of "family," it didn''t stop them from fiercely defending the sanctity and sense of duty surrounding it.


    Perhaps the secretary outside had heard the glass shattering and wanted to investigate, or maybe she intended to clean up, for there was a knock on the door. Pronto''s response was a thunderous roar¡ª"Get out!"


    Mason was so startled he half-stood, clutching the back of the sofa, leaning back in fear as he stared in horror at Pronto''s sudden outburst.


    In contrast, Julian, who had caused this conflict, remained unfazed. For the first time, he lifted the glass and took a sip of coffee, commenting with disdain, "Tastes like burnt barley. I can never get used to it."


    "This is the first time someone has pointed a gun at my head," he remarked calmly. "You could try pulling the trigger, and maybe everything would end."


    "But I guarantee," Julian added, "you''d go on a journey you could hardly imagine."


    Pronto didn''t dare pull the trigger, even though he was certain that this shot would kill Julian without any consequences for himself. But he wasn''t willing to gamble; he had no idea what backup plans Julian had in place or what kind of retaliation might befall him and his family.


    Wood and Gador served as examples, with Gador being the most unfortunate¡ªhe died never understanding why he was abandoned, and it all stemmed from the man standing before him. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was Wood who dragged Gador into this, making him believe that getting rid of someone as seemingly insignificant as Julian would be as easy as squashing a bug. They severely misjudged the situation, and he was mysteriously killed, highlighting the meticulous planning and violent execution Julian was capable of.


    "I don''t like anyone using my family as leverage!" Pronto withdrew the gun slightly, a gesture of compromise. Julian, naturally, leaned back into the sofa, his expression remaining steady throughout. Pronto slowly holstered his pistol and sat down. "This won''t happen again. I''ll agree to this, but I need to reassure my subordinates.


    Every personnel change at the station is a form of motivation for them."


    With ease, Julian pulled a checkbook from his pocket, wrote out twenty thousand dollars, and signed his name¡ªa scrawl reminiscent of a third grader who had just learned to write continuous words, full of uncontrollable and unpredictable edges. He tore off the check, placed it on the coffee table between them, and pushed it forward.


    "A check from the Imperial Central Bank, redeemable anytime within the month." More than one person had advised Julian never to keep money in the bank, but he hadn''t listened. Was he supposed to stash cash in a cellar and watch it grow damp, moldy, and rot? Besides, money shouldn''t merely be accumulated. Money''s value is proven only in its "circulation," not by being hidden somewhere.


    From his dreams, he''d gathered enough information to know that the giant families and corporations never became world-class entities by leaving their money sitting in the bank. They either reinvested continuously into new projects or broke it down into investments to generate returns.


    Pronto glanced at the check on the coffee table, sighed, then picked it up, folded it carefully, and slipped it into his pocket.


    By now, Mason had settled back into his seat, faintly recalling what Julian had said in the car¡ªthat whether Pronto accepted Julian''s money was not up to him! This thought sent a slight shiver through Mason. Pronto had initially refused the money, but now he had taken it, proving he didn''t have the final say.

 Chapter 133 - 133 A Person Doesnt Become Powerful Out Of Nowhere

    As Mason marveled at Julian''s eerie control over the situation, he noticed Julian standing up beside him and quickly followed suit.


    "Well, I look forward to your good news, Chief Pronto." Julian, just as he had when exiting the car, smiled warmly and extended his hand. Pronto glared at him with a hint of resentment, then reluctantly reached out and gave him a half-hearted handshake.


    "On the first of next month, have your brother report to¡­" Pronto paused, and Julian politely filled in, "East City Substation!"


    "Yes, the damn East City Substation. I''ll arrange everything. Now I have things to attend to, so¡­ I won''t be seeing you out."


    Julian didn''t take offense at Pronto''s coldness. After all, he had just threatened the man''s family; how could he expect a friendly farewell? He nodded with a smile and left Pronto''s office with Mason.


    Outside, Mason quietly asked, "Julian, I don''t quite understand. Shouldn''t you be friends with the chief? Why would you threaten him?" This was something Mason genuinely didn''t understand. "And couldn''t this cause other problems?"


    As they walked toward the police station''s exit, Julian explained in a low voice, "Friends? Don''t kid yourself. Have you ever heard of paying a friend ten thousand dollars just to get them to do something for you¡ªlet alone twenty thousand? He''s not my friend¡­" Julian''s brow furrowed slightly as a man reeking of alcohol and dressed sloppily, clearly drunk and unsteady on his feet, suddenly bumped into him.


    Julian steadied him and muttered, "Watch out," to which the man replied, "Thanks." S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Just a minor incident.


    The encounter broke Julian''s train of thought, and they quickened their pace back to the car. Once inside, Julian continued, "Even if I don''t fall out with him now, he''d eventually find a way to turn against me. There are many things you don''t know, Mason. My connection with Pronto was based on mutual exploitation from the start. It''s just that I''ve had more use for him, while he''s had little need for me. He might not show it, but he likely has some grievances against me.


    "Besides, Dave''s affair with Mrs. Vivian has humiliated the mayor. He''s bound to eliminate anything that brings him shame. While Fire Skull might not be effective on its own, combined with the police, it''s a sure bet. Rather than wait to hand over the advantage, I may as well secure the benefits now. That way, when a showdown does happen, I won''t be at a complete disadvantage."


    Mason''s mind struggled to keep up with the complex logic at play, bewildered by how entangled everything had become. He chuckled nervously and asked, "But what if he goes back on his word? Kicks me out of the substation¡ªwouldn''t the twenty thousand go to waste?"


    After closing the car door, Julian shook his head. "You''re wrong. There''s nothing to worry about. You''re in that position because of me, and as long as I''m alive, Pronto won''t lay a finger on you. He''s a shrewd one."


    Just as Julian said, Pronto was indeed cunning. If he acted against Mason while Julian was still alive, not only would it provoke fierce retaliation, but he would also lose his last buffer.


    So, he would certainly wait, taking action only when the dust settled, dealing with Mason once Julian was gone. If that day came, he could easily assign some trumped-up charge and make Mason''s life miserable for years.


    At present, he endured Julian''s threats not only because he had no idea what backup plans the young lunatic might have but also because he was waiting and investigating.


    A person doesn''t become powerful out of nowhere¡ªthere had to be some change that enabled Julian''s rise. Once Pronto fully understood Julian''s background and confirmed there was nothing troublesome or that Julian wasn''t some pawn of a powerful figure, he would make his move.


    Pronto had eliminated more than one wealthy person who had threatened him; those who crossed him were never forgotten


    "What''s this?"


    Julian entered the office, picking up a beautifully packaged bottle of strong liquor from the table and giving it a shake. Dave stifled a laugh, looking out at the street through the window.


    Julian called him a "little rascal" with a chuckle, then twisted off the cap, pouring half a small one-inch glass. He took a sniff¡ªthe scent was slightly sweet¡ªand then a small sip. There was a hint of icy coolness mixed with the familiar sweet-sour taste; it was Snow Sprite.


    "Did this come from the farm''s latest batch?" he asked, settling into his desk chair and finishing the drink in one gulp. "Not bad. It''s even better than Snow Sprite, and the packaging is pretty attractive. Which smart kid came up with this?"


    Talent is something that''s never fully sufficient to meet market demand. If someone had the skill to improve the flavor and packaging of Snow Sprite, leaving them in a basic role would be disrespectful to their talent and irresponsible for the business.


    Julian decided to promote this person to the head of the trade company''s beverage division, granting them enough power and funding to continue enhancing the product.


    Constant innovation is the lifeblood of a product, as people are naturally drawn to new things.


    But what Dave said next wiped the smile off Julian''s face.


    "This isn''t our product!" Then he added, "And it''s actively encroaching on our market!" He finished with the clincher: "Most importantly, I''ve found that they''re using raw materials sourced from our products."


    Julian had asked everyone to use the term "products" instead of "bootleg liquor."


    Over the past few days, a new bootleg drink called "First Love" had been spreading through Ternell, more appealing to younger customers and packaged in bright, colorful designs that conveyed higher quality and sophistication.


    With its familiar taste, many assumed it was Julian''s latest product aimed at competing with Ernst and Carrell. Many bars had sent people to contact Dave, hoping to buy First Love directly in bulk and stop stocking Snow Elf.

 Chapter 134 - 134 The Omnipotent Power Of Money

    The problem was, this product wasn''t being made at the farm.


    The subtle differences in flavor hinted that whoever was producing First Love was likely a professional with well-equipped facilities. They had purchased Snow Elf, then performed a second round of processing, resulting in a more refined taste and upscale packaging to sell at a higher price. They hadn''t done much¡ªjust added a few flavorings and swapped out the packaging.


    These people were talented!


    Julian looked up at Dave. "Can we find them?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "I think it''s possible. If they''re using Snow Elf as a base, it means that to expand, they''ll need to buy a lot more Snow Elf." Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "First, pull the order sheets for the last four weeks and see if there''s been a noticeable increase in any bar''s sales. Then send people to the bars and check if there have been any unusually lavish customers buying multiple bottles of Snow Elf at once.


    "If we manage to find them, don''t harm anyone. Just bring them in." Julian rapped his knuckles on the table twice. "Get to it!"


    Dave gave a slight bow, then left quickly. Julian looked at the beautifully packaged bottle on the table, shaking his head with a smile. Was this a display of their skills or a direct challenge to Julian?


    The next two days passed without incident¡ªsteady shipments, steady payments, with barely a ripple¡ªuntil Julian''s new suit was delivered.


    Heidler had repeatedly invited him to meet, wanting to discuss the future of their association. To be honest, Julian didn''t want too much to do with this collaborator, but he did need someone "special" to keep him updated on information from the higher-ups, just in case someone influential in Ternell City or Kanros State took an interest in him and moved against him without his knowledge.


    Information, whether in development or in war, is a vital factor. Falling behind means enduring a string of disadvantages. As long as Heidler hadn''t yet given up on Julian or the association, he''d use this opportunity as much as he could.


    Changing into the suit Dumas had sewn himself, Julian didn''t feel as though he''d suddenly become an elite member of society. In fact, he found it less comfortable than his usual attire. The slight restriction made him feel a bit restless, almost with an urge to break free. But he knew this suit, costing hundreds of dollars, wasn''t meant for escape games.


    Once again, he climbed into the same car. This time, there was no one telling him what to do or what not to do¡ªjust silence the whole way.


    When he arrived, Julian got out and gave Lamas, who wore a particularly serious expression, a meaningful glance before turning and leaving.


    Julian held grudges.


    As a child, the neighbor''s dog had eaten his stool and bitten his backside while he was doing his business. He spent nearly a month preparing a small trap for it. Farmers in the countryside often had to protect themselves from wild animals, so trap-making was a common skill. Julian dug a simple spiked pit, then lured the dog over with a special scent.


    He watched the dog panic as it fell into the trap, listening to its desperate cries. Standing at the edge, he waited a long time, watching until the dog took its last breath, then ran home, screaming, to tell Mr. Kesma what had happened.


    That evening, they enjoyed a delicious and rather special dinner.


    Julian held grudges.


    This time, when he met Heidler, there was a hint less arrogance in Heidler''s demeanor. To him, Ternell might just be a temporary stop in his career, a place he''d leave once his term ended. But here, and now, the young man before him had taught him the true spelling of "miracle"¡ªspelled "Julian."


    Heidler personally poured Julian a drink, then sat down across from him, swirling his glass and lifting it slightly. "To the omnipotent power of money!"


    "That''s a truth I can agree with!" Julian lifted his glass and took a small sip.


    Setting down his glass, Heidler crossed one leg over the other, pressing his fingertips together and resting them on his knee. "Come work for me!"


    During this time, Julian''s dazzling performance was so striking that even Heidler found it hard to ignore. Initially, when the conflict between Julian and Wood broke out, Heidler''s instinct was to abandon Julian entirely, never see him again, and certainly not step in to save his life if he failed.


    In Heidler''s view, Julian''s reckless conflict with Wood was foolish. Wood had established himself here for years; how could a newcomer like Julian expect to topple him so easily? Anyone worthy of being called a mogul had a bloody history behind them.


    Heidler had predicted Julian wouldn''t last a week¡ªthat he''d end up a corpse floating down the Agate River or vanish without a trace, as if he''d never been there.


    But then, a surprising reversal left Heidler wide-eyed. He couldn''t understand how Wood, who was undeniably powerful, lost without even exerting a fraction of his strength, while Julian¡ªthis seemingly lucky kid¡ªemerged as the final victor.


    Then Gador committed suicide at the police station, with all signs pointing back to Julian. It was then that Heidler began to thoroughly examine Julian, scrutinizing his every move.


    He concluded that Julian was ruthless, opportunistic, and skilled at seizing chances. His decisiveness was beyond his years, more reminiscent of an old hand who had experienced multiple ups and downs.


    Heidler finally understood what made Julian remarkable¡ªhis skill in understanding human nature and his keen sense of timing. He had exploited the deaths of Wood''s associates to provoke Wood, forcing him to confront Julian. In gang circles, there was an old saying: "Rise by me, fall by me." In simple terms, it meant not involving others, including family, in conflicts.


    If Wood had slowed down, strategically pacing himself in confrontations rather than rushing into battle with Julian, who was always prepared, he might have won. Julian couldn''t have withstood more than three or five confrontations.


    But Wood was overconfident, which gave Julian the opportunity to settle it in a single fight. One could say Wood''s arrogance led to his downfall, but it could also be said that Julian lit the perfect spark for his own victory.

 Chapter 135 - 135 Potential Collaboration

    Then Gador was implicated and took his own life at the police station.


    Julian was a clever, decisive, and ruthless individual. If Heidler could bring someone like him into his fold, he felt his career could advance by at least two more levels. Looking at Julian, Heidler couldn''t contain the eagerness in his gaze, longing for Julian to nod and give him the answer he wanted.


    Julian avoided his gaze, lowering his head to look at the teacup on the saucer in front of him. Petals floated in the tea, slowly unfurling in the warm liquid. He picked up the cup, took a sip, and savored the rich floral aroma mixed with a subtle sweet and sour taste¡ªa new experience for his palate. He took another sip before setting the cup down.


    "Thank you for your hospitality, but what I''m about to say may disappoint you," Julian said, nodding slightly in acknowledgment. "I am deeply grateful for your invitation, which is both recognition and affirmation of me. I am truly thankful."


    This last statement held a hidden meaning. Among the Guar, there was a proverb: "Give food to the poor, and you''ll earn gratitude; give it to the nobility, and you''ll earn resentment." Poor people, often starving due to poverty, might find a meal helpful in filling their stomachs, enabling them to go out and work. To them, this is an act of kindness.


    But offering the same gift to nobility is not seen as help¡ªit''s an insult. When did nobles ever need handouts to fill their bellies? If not an insult, what else could it be?


    By speaking this way, Julian not only rejected Heidler''s offer but also made his stance clear: he would never become anyone''s subordinate.


    Heidler sighed with regret. Had he extended the invitation sooner, would things have ended differently? He didn''t know, and neither did Julian. When Julian had first arrived in Ternell, it was impossible to predict whether he would have rejected Heidler''s offer. But the past was now in the past, and there was no use pondering it.


    Besides, at that time, Heidler had no way of knowing where this young farmer from the countryside had come from. Now, Julian had spread his wings. While he might seem like an aggressive fledgling to the powerful, he held boundless potential. Sadly, it was too late to make him fight for Heidler.


    After the rejection, Heidler didn''t bring up the association again. He now understood that the association was only significant with Julian''s involvement; without him, it would just be an empty shell. Though Julian wouldn''t become Heidler''s follower, it didn''t prevent potential collaboration between them.


    They then shifted to light conversation, and Heidler casually mentioned a recent event in Olodo. While rallying support for the midterm elections, processions from the New Party and the Old Party clashed unexpectedly. The result was an unplanned, violent brawl. In the scuffle, four people died, over thirty were injured, and more than ten were left in critical condition.


    The governor quickly issued a statement, declaring that unstable, malicious forces had incited the conflict, and he promised to find evidence and bring those responsible to justice. While this was just small talk, Julian gleaned insights about Heidler''s political stance.


    Though Heidler''s description seemed neutral, it was worth noting that Heidler was an Old Party man; his father had pledged loyalty to the nobles and the emperor. Heidler''s neutral account of the conflict raised questions about what he was implying.


    Since taking office, the new governor had little influence or recognition in Kanros State. In this stronghold of the Old Party, the new governor had clearly been sidelined. Although he had made slight progress over the past two years, the situation remained dire.


    The Old Party dominated Kanros State''s various cities, with only three out of nine cities in New Party control¡ªa number so low it was almost frightening.


    The bedridden governor retained most of the state''s power, controlling significant authority and its distribution, leading people to call him the "invisible governor."


    Perhaps that was why Heidler had shared this story, and in an instant, Julian understood.


    In business, there are many ties that can''t easily be broken, and forcibly severing them only leads to harm¡ªfor example, the bond with a mentor.


    In this world, the relationship between a teacher and disciple, while not as formal as in the dream world, still serves as a measure of one''s morality. It fulfills the expectations people have for ethical behavior, especially in those who don''t adhere to strict moral principles themselves. There is another type of relationship: the political mentor.


    During the Old Party''s feudal rule, the tradition or phenomenon of political mentorship had existed for a long time. One noble would introduce another into a political interest group, allowing the mentor to gain political benefits regardless of the disciple''s future achievements.


    Now, with both the New and Old Parties coexisting, this phenomenon hasn''t faded with the New Party''s rise; instead, it has become a core element in political interactions.


    If Julian guessed correctly, Heidler wanted to become his mentor, introducing him to a political figure and establishing a connection between them.


    Among the Guar, there are extremists who strive to make the old traitors pay for their actions. Many of those traitors are long dead, but their descendants have become new targets for these people. Heidler, for instance, had received numerous death threats, warning that he''d face ultimate judgment.


    Once Heidler and Julian had a mentor-mentee relationship, Julian would have to stand by Heidler''s side if he faced threats¡ªunless he no longer wanted to advance politically.


    The irony is almost laughable: these shameless people, who readily discard anything for personal gain, also yearn for others'' loyalty. Perhaps it''s precisely because they lack it themselves that they value and desire it so intensely. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This wasn''t the outcome Julian wanted. He didn''t want Heidler''s friendship, nor did he want him as a mentor. Deep down, Julian harbored a dangerous thought¡ªhe planned to personally send Heidler to face judgment if necessary, gaining more support from the Guar. Agreeing to Heidler''s offer was out of the question.

 Chapter 136 - 136 This Wont End So Simply

    The prolonged silence made Heidler frown slightly. He wasn''t sure if he had been unclear, if this brilliant young man hadn''t understood his intentions, or if he was deliberately playing dumb to avoid the matter. Either way, it wasn''t to Heidler''s liking; the former suggested that Julian was clever but lacked political maturity, while the latter¡­


    That would be too frightening!


    "This is an invitation to a charity gala the evening after tomorrow. I hope you''ll attend. It''s time for you to make a public appearance and show who you are." Heidler wasn''t giving up and handed Julian an invitation.


    Charity galas were interesting events: a gathering of wealthy businessmen and politicians, shedding fake tears for the social underclass, whom they exploit to the point of poverty. They donate to the poor and then turn around and exploit them again, all while gaining a good reputation and political clout. Truly masterful.


    The invitation seat was right beside Heidler''s, meaning that if Julian attended, there would be no way to avoid the association between them, regardless of any explanation he might offer later. They were both Guar, the invitation came from Heidler, and they would be seated together.


    Julian knew he''d rejected Heidler twice already, which was enough. Another refusal could bring unforeseen trouble. After a brief thought, he slipped the invitation into his pocket.


    Heidler exhaled, taking a sip of tea. "I know you''re busy with your affairs. Thank you for coming today."


    Julian stood up at the right moment, bowed slightly, and took his leave.


    Although Heidler was a relatively weak member of the main chamber of commerce, he was still stronger than Julian. Until he had enough power, Julian didn''t intend to create any overt conflict with Heidler.


    Watching Julian''s composed figure retreat, Heidler sat in his chair, lost in thought.


    Outside, Lamas and the car were already waiting for Julian. He walked over but didn''t get in immediately, instead lowering his head to look at his shoes. They were not particularly expensive dress shoes, but Julian preferred them to boots. The shoes were clean, at least for now, but after inspecting them for a while, he finally spoke.


    "My shoes are dirty."


    A flush of blood crept over Lamas''s clean-shaven face. Clenching his teeth, he pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket, opened it with a flick, and prepared to kneel to clean Julian''s shoes. But Julian stopped him.


    Looking down with a slight bow, Julian''s face against the sky and sun in the background, he pressed a hand on Lamas''s shoulder and smiled. "This won''t end so simply." Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The instructions Lamas gave him on his first visit had irritated Julian, but not to an unbearable degree. Julian understood that big shots had their quirks, and as a small player, he had no choice but to comply.


    However, when Lamas wiped the seat with his handkerchief and then discarded it, that was a real insult to his dignity. That was something Julian couldn''t forgive, and he''d remember it for a lifetime.


    As Julian had said, it wouldn''t end that easily. If kneeling to clean someone''s shoes could erase all enmity, what would be the point of police, judges, and lawyers?


    Meanwhile, just two streets away, Mrs. Vivian was clutching her cheek, staring in disbelief at her husband, who had never shown such anger.


    "Wretch!" The mayor, usually calm and composed, was now like a wounded bull, kicking Mrs. Vivian in the stomach. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing heavy, and his shirt sleeves rolled up, exposing his hairy forearms.


    "Who is he?" The mayor rolled up his sleeves, looking far from the refined demeanor of an elite. He paced back and forth, occasionally glancing at Mrs. Vivian, who sat silently on the edge of the bed. If not for the servant telling him today that her sanitary cloths hadn''t been used, he would never have known!


    Sanitary cloths are long strips of pure cotton filled with absorbent material, used by women during their menstrual period. Poor people use simpler versions¡ªjust cloth strips that can be washed, dried, and reused. But for a family of the mayor''s standing, these are disposable items, and each month, new ones are delivered by the servants.


    However, this time, the maid found last month''s sanitary cloths still neatly in the drawer. She knew that Mrs. Vivian was possibly pregnant and excitedly shared the news with the housekeeper. The servants had been somewhat worried; given the mayor and Mrs. Vivian''s age, they still had no children. For them, this was an unsettling situation, as it meant one of them was unable to fulfill the family''s need for an heir, a potential disaster for the family legacy.


    If their employers grew too old to have children, the servants would consider seeking employment elsewhere rather than "hanging themselves on a single tree," waiting until the old master died and the family reclaimed their assets, leaving the servants dismissed.


    So, Mrs. Vivian''s pregnancy was a joyful event for all the household staff.


    But the problem was¡­ the child in Mrs. Vivian''s womb was not the mayor''s.


    When the housekeeper, with a beaming smile, delivered this happy news and congratulations to Peter, this was the result.


    Peter''s cold gaze held a seething anger. He knew Mrs. Vivian had dalliances with young men, but he didn''t care much. From the moment he met her, his goal wasn''t love but interest. He tolerated her affairs and could even overlook her trysts outside; these were the consequences of the deception he had inflicted upon her.


    Likewise, he himself had several mistresses and even suspected that he was the one unable to conceive an heir. This only made him more lenient with her, but there was one line¡ªMrs. Vivian was not to form any emotional attachments, and under no circumstances was she to get pregnant. This was something he couldn''t tolerate and would never forgive.


    He placed one hand on his golden belt buckle, unfastened it, and slowly pulled the belt from his waist, wrapping it around his arm so that a length of it hung free. Despite his near-madness, he retained a basic sense of control.


    He knew he couldn''t injure Mrs. Vivian too severely, let alone kill her. No matter how many years the old man lying on the bed could live, as long as he was alive, the mayor had to bow to his power.

 Chapter 137 - 137 The Mayor Investigates the Childs Father

    He swung his arm with force, the leather belt slicing through the air with a sharp sound, landing on Mrs. Vivian''s arm. A red welt appeared instantly on her exposed skin, quickly swelling. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Wretch! Tell me who did this, or I won''t let you off today!" Peter''s voice trembled slightly as he spoke, but he controlled his rage, refraining from shouting, instead biting his words with a low, gritted tone. He swung the belt again, striking Mrs. Vivian''s shoulder with a loud crack, the belt curling around to hit her back.


    Enraged, Peter lunged forward, tearing at Mrs. Vivian''s clothes, his teeth clenched and his eyes flashing with a fierce light as he whipped her repeatedly with the belt.


    After an unknown amount of time, Mrs. Vivian lay on the floor, her body covered in red welts, breathing heavily. Only then did Peter''s anger subside. He tossed aside the now-deformed belt, adjusted his sleeves, straightened his shirt, and gave Mrs. Vivian a disdainful glance before leaving. Just as the door was about to close, his voice echoed back.


    "I''ll find him, even if you don''t say a word!"


    After venting his rage, the mayor felt much better. He went to the dining room, sat down, and asked the housekeeper to bring him a strong fruit liqueur with three ice cubes. He beckoned to the housekeeper, who leaned down, attentive to his instructions.


    "How many people know about Mrs. Vivian''s pregnancy?"


    The mayor''s cold tone and icy gaze sent a chill through the housekeeper, who replied in a low voice, "Three maids and one servant woman know about it. I''ve told them to keep it quiet until the news is confirmed."


    "Well done!" The mayor pointed at the housekeeper, grabbing a bright red fruit from the table''s fruit tray, biting into it fiercely. The cold, tangy juice stimulated his taste buds, with red juice splattering from his mouth onto the clear table. "Get rid of them¡ªall of them. Do it quietly. I don''t want to hear another word about this. Understand?"


    The housekeeper''s heart skipped a beat. Although he didn''t fully understand why, he resolved to carry out his master''s orders with unwavering loyalty.


    "Call Mrs. Vivian''s driver. I have questions for him." The mayor waved him away, and the housekeeper, despite a flicker of pity in his eyes, quickly replaced it with determination.


    Soon after, Mrs. Vivian''s personal driver stood before the mayor, visibly uneasy. Although he served Mrs. Vivian, he rarely saw the mayor, and even as a couple, they seldom appeared together. Nervously, he bowed his head, addressing him as "Mr. Mayor."


    Peter crossed his legs, feeling a rare sense of satisfaction from his recent "activities," even allowing a faint smile to appear. "Where has Mrs. Vivian been going most often lately?"


    The driver dared not lie, as the very act of standing here left him breathless, and he had no courage to deceive.


    "Recently, Madam has often visited the Delier Art Gallery, where she frequently buys paintings and other artworks."


    The mayor was familiar with Delier. From his first day in Ternell, he''d known of him. Delier had friends in the capital, but due to some personal scandals, he was expelled and settled in Ternell, a small town where he made a living selling so-called "art pieces." Mrs. Vivian had brought back many things from his gallery, some of which the mayor had appraised, only to receive the verdict that they were "worthless."


    But, given Mrs. Vivian''s enthusiasm for art and the ladies'' tea gatherings she hosted at Delier''s gallery, he had turned a blind eye. The money wasn''t his, after all, so there was no need to feel troubled over spending it.


    But Delier¡­ No, it couldn''t be him!


    The mayor looked up and said, "Bring Delier here. Tell him it''s an invitation to be my guest¡ªright now!"


    "Right, lift it a little here to give it that Marbudura style..." Delier gently adjusted the young artist''s hand, guiding him in making precise markings on the canvas. These lines carried an abstract quality that most people wouldn''t easily grasp¡ªmarks that could be called "art" for their uniqueness and subtle detail. The beauty of art often lies in its mystery, challenging conventional understanding.


    Delier admired the boy''s dedication and enthusiasm for the craft. The energy and creativity of the young artists around him filled him with inspiration. He walked along the row of canvases, offering gentle words of encouragement and constructive feedback to the children. His genuine passion for teaching art was evident, and he took pride in helping each student grow their skills and confidence.


    Among the children, his eye was particularly drawn to a girl and a boy whose promising talent stood out. Delier imagined them thriving at a prestigious art academy and someday making their mark in the art world. The thought filled him with a sense of purpose and fulfillment.


    His reflections were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps. Surprised, Delier turned to see who had entered, his arms crossing in curiosity. It was Mrs. Vivian''s driver, whose unexpected arrival signaled that something urgent might be happening.


    Delier''s face changed instantly¡ªhis "artist" speed of changing expressions was world-class. He quickly put on a welcoming smile, preparing to ask why Mrs. Vivian hadn''t come in, but the driver spoke first. "The mayor has requested your presence. I hope you won''t make this difficult for me."


    Delier''s expression shifted slightly. He instructed his assistant to watch over the children, tidied his clothes, applied a bit of makeup, and then followed the driver back to the mayor''s estate.


    This was Delier''s second close encounter with the mayor. The first time had been at an art auction hosted by the chamber of commerce, where he was appraising some artworks for Mrs. Vivian.


    The mayor had been present, but after a polite greeting, they exchanged no further words before the mayor left abruptly. So, this was technically their second face-to-face meeting, and it left Delier feeling slightly uncomfortable. He couldn''t say why, but he felt uneasy.

 Chapter 138 - 138 A Different Sense Of Art

    "I hear Mrs. Vivian''s been buying quite a few expensive pieces from you. Is that right?" The mayor didn''t open with the topic he wanted to discuss, but rather started with something trivial and unrelated. "It''s clear that she loves art; those pieces are piling up in a storage room."


    During the mayor''s speech, Delier could only force a smile, nodding nervously. He knew the "true nature" of his art pieces. Put simply, they were his way of covering up his service fees for arranging meetings for noblewomen.


    Direct monetary transactions would raise too many suspicions, but paying for "art" was far more acceptable. Since everyone''s taste in art differs, one person might see an artwork as worthless, while another might view it as priceless. This subjective and highly personalized method of payment allowed Delier to avoid many complications and remain well-hidden. To this day, few people truly understood what his business entailed.


    "What do you think your so-called ''art pieces'' are worth?" The mayor''s seemingly friendly smile gave Delier an odd sense of danger.


    "Um... they''re worth something, I guess?" Delier ventured cautiously, relieved when the mayor didn''t outright reject his answer. He relaxed a bit and continued, "Art is difficult to understand, much like Mr. Mark''s


    Genesis


    ¡ªit''s just a multicolored circle on a canvas, yet I could easily paint something similar. However, the meaning of what I create wouldn''t compare to the esteemed reputation of


    Genesis


    ."


    He continued earnestly, "Everyone has a different sense of art, whether high or low, but art itself is priceless!"


    The mayor nodded thoughtfully. "You have a point, but I brought in prominent artists from Olodo and the capital to appraise the pieces you sold to Mrs. Vivian. They said your works don''t even measure up to those of a beginner. What do you think of that?"


    Of course they didn''t measure up. Those were just casual doodles, their sole purpose to cover for "other expenses." There was no way he''d sell genuine artwork to those noblewomen. Delier offered only an awkward smile, choosing not to argue¡ªhe knew that remaining silent was wiser than trying to explain.


    Seeing the moment was right, the mayor spoke slowly, "I know what you do, and I know what they do. Now, I don''t care to interfere in your business; just tell me who Mrs. Vivian has been spending time with recently."


    Delier fell silent. He knew that one day someone would uncover his business, but he hadn''t expected it to happen so soon, and certainly not by someone with this much authority.


    "Unwilling to talk?" The mayor shook his head. "Or do you think that silence will let you escape an unavoidable question?"


    Delier maintained his silence. The next second, the mayor grabbed a heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table and smashed it onto Delier''s head. They say bones are hard, but even the hardest bone can''t shield soft skin. Blood trickled down from Delier''s forehead, his vision turning black as bursts of light danced before his eyes. Dizzy with the sensation of spinning, he struggled to keep his focus.


    With a loud thud, his head was knocked to one side again, and a hot stream poured from his nose. He reached up to feel his face¡ªnot blood this time, but a clear liquid. Realizing the imminent danger, he raised his arms to shield his head. Only then, as his arms throbbed with intense pain, did he scream, but the mayor had already ordered that no one was to enter.


    "See? Guarding a secret could cost you your life, but if you speak up, there''s nothing to lose." The mayor, breathing heavily, tossed the ashtray back onto the coffee table and sat down again. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his hands, the bright red staining the cloth in alarming spots.


    "Jon?" Pronto looked in confusion at the expensive letterhead bearing only a single name. Completely bewildered, he glanced up at the mayor''s butler. Being disturbed from a sweet slumber early in the morning was hardly pleasing, especially since today was his day off. If it weren''t for the clout of the person knocking, Pronto would have gladly retaliated against this unwelcome disturbance.


    The brown paper with woodgrain was edged with a layer of gold¡ªgold foil stamping¡ªand carried a faint fragrance. The name "Jon" was written in an artistic, elegant script. The letterhead alone must have cost a small fortune, and it was used simply to convey one name, highlighting the prestige of the sender.


    "I''m sorry, but who is this Jon?" Pronto asked, still puzzled.


    The butler responded patiently, "Jon is a young man who frequently visits the Delier Art Gallery. He''s around fifteen or sixteen, very fair and handsome, with a strong build. His hair has a slight touch of silver, making him easy to recognize. The mayor wants you to investigate him discreetly and see if anyone might be directing him from behind the scenes."


    "Very well, I''ve delivered the message. I''ll take my leave now." The butler tipped his hat, bowed, and left. Watching the butler''s retreating figure, Pronto frowned.


    He was growing increasingly irritated. In theory, as the district police chief, he and these mayors and council members were of nearly equal standing. But to both the mayor and the councilmen, he was more like a family servant¡ªsomeone to command as they pleased.


    Doing his job correctly rarely brought any rewards; to those in power, doing things right was simply what was expected. As police chief, his main duty wasn''t just to maintain public order but also to handle the trouble these leaders threw his way. This wasn''t the first or second time he''d dealt with such a matter. Recently, Mrs. Vivian had asked him to arrest someone, and now it was the mayor''s turn.


    Despite his irritation, Pronto had no choice but to comply. He hastily donned the uniform he had set aside for tomorrow, put on his hat, slapped his cheeks to look more alert, took a deep breath, and hurried out of his house. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 139 - 139 A Dangerous Incident

    Before long, everyone in the area had heard the news: Pronto was looking for a young man named Jon. Anyone who provided information would receive Pronto''s protection and a large reward. Soon, forces big and small were out combing the city for this Jon.


    While the search for Jon raged outside, the real "Jon" remained hidden and calm at the farm.


    "I''m sorry!" Dave lowered his head in shame, needing to apologize to Julian for failing him. Julian''s request had been for Dave to subtly relay some information to Mrs. Vivian, thus influencing her judgment and planting a figure favorable to the association by the mayor''s side¡ªnot to form a relationship with her.


    Some may think feelings are uncontrollable, but in truth, humans have the rational capacity to manage their emotions. This is why there are so many con artists and heartbreaks in the world.


    Dave shouldn''t have allowed himself to form any attachment to Mrs. Vivian, let alone let her get pregnant¡ªthat was the real disaster.


    This could all have been avoided, but under their shared indulgence, things had spiraled out of control.


    Julian waved his hand dismissively, but to be honest, he was deeply agitated. He had the urge to smash something to vent his... frustration? After all the work of gathering a group of misfits, the association, and the trade company, everything was finally on track, only for a minor incident to threaten to destroy it all.


    He wasn''t being paranoid¡ªthe mayor''s influence in the city was enormous. Before the New Party''s rule, the mayor''s title was "governor," with authority over every affair in the city, holding every string of power.


    Even though the New Party had reduced the "governor" role to "mayor," the position still held considerable power, far beyond what a small businessman like Julian could challenge.


    If the mayor traced this back, he would likely deduce that someone was orchestrating the events between Dave and Mrs. Vivian. Even if he didn''t, Julian, as Dave''s "boss," would be within the line of fire.


    Logic told Julian that the best course now was to gather his assets and flee with everyone, escaping at least the areas under Old Party influence if not going far away.


    But his instincts told him that if he chose to flee rather than face his challenges, he''d likely spend the rest of his life running. His dream of an economic empire would remain just that¡ªa dream¡ªbecause he couldn''t bear such a burden or responsibility.


    Watching Julian pace back and forth, his face twisted with worry, Dave finally mustered up the courage to speak, "Julian, I''ll turn myself in." The surrounding associates all turned their gazes on Dave, thinking he''d lost his mind. Turning himself in would mean certain death, and it would be neither easy nor dignified. By now, Julian had explained everything to everyone; he had no right to keep such a disaster hidden.


    Julian paused mid step, turned, and without a word, slapped Dave so hard he was lifted off his toes, stumbling backward.


    "Fool!"


    "Utter idiot!"


    Julian roared, pacing faster, his gaze fixed on Dave.


    "I guarantee that if you surrender, in less than three days, the association will be finished, I''ll be finished, everyone will be finished!" He pointed at Dave, marching over and kicking him in the shoulder, sending him sprawling.


    "You think what you''re doing is selfless? Wrong! You''re just a small time player, a pitiful one at that. Big players don''t quell their anger over the life or death of one nobody¡ªit takes the deaths of many small players to satisfy them!"


    "Instead of considering turning yourself in, I suggest you think about how to kill that bastard instead!"


    "How about we kill him?" Dave''s tone was sinister, as if this was the best solution he could think of¡ªkilling the mayor. With the mayor dead, all their problems would vanish: no one would continue searching for Jon, and there would be no further threat to the association. But was it really that simple? Would assassinating the mayor truly solve everything?


    No, of course, it wouldn''t be that simple. If a politician died under suspicious circumstances, what would be the first thought? S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A conspiracy!


    A cover up!


    If a prominent Old Party member, and a city mayor no less, were mysteriously assassinated¡ªeven assuming Dave and his companions could somehow breach the mayor''s heavily guarded defenses, kill him like the legendary assassin god Futhesine, and then quietly escape without anyone noticing¡ªit would still be pointless.


    The death of such a prominent Old Party figure would undoubtedly be labeled as a "political assassination," and to savvy politicians, a person''s death can sometimes be more valuable than their life. People tend to sympathize with "victims." Exploiting this so called political event to attack the New Party and tarnish its reputation, the Old Party would pressure the New Party into launching a full scale investigation into the mayor''s death, either to clear its own name or uncover who was setting them up.


    At that point, with both the New and Old Parties involved, along with opportunistic politicians, businessmen, and moguls eager to gain from the chaos, Julian had no doubt he''d be betrayed. The association and Eastern Star would be reduced to mere dust beneath the wheels of history, burying the insignificant truth.


    It was even likely that the mayor himself was anticipating Jon and his "associates" to act recklessly, maximizing the political benefits he could reap from it.


    If Julian wanted to weather this storm safely, the only option was a direct approach¡ªthrough politics.


    In Julian''s extended dream, he had observed many powerful figures with a distinct trait: they were all intensely goal oriented. Businessmen would say they were opportunistic, while politicians might call it strong political ambition.


    Clenching the slip of paper in his pocket, Julian decided to reach out to the man named Shaun. He felt it was time to have a conversation.


    He cast a harsh look at Dave. "Get dressed and come with me!"

 Chapter 140 - 140 Lets Work Together

    Life without telephones wasn''t ideal, but having a phone didn''t make things much better either. There was reportedly a phone network in the capital and other places, but it was still primitive, requiring operators to connect calls manually. In this process, conversations weren''t secure, as they could be intercepted and recorded. People still preferred traditional, face-to-face meetings for private discussions.


    Julian arranged to meet Shaun at the northern docks of Ternell. The docks were built on a tributary of the Agate River, with shallow waters that suited Ternell¡ªa city mainly dependent on rail transportation¡ªjust fine. Every evening at dusk, dockworkers would gradually leave, and the empty, darkened docks would give off a chilling vibe, as if something darker than the night lay hidden beneath it, like stepping into a mystical, foreboding realm.


    Under the moonlight, Julian sat alone on a bench by Dock No. 2 at Pier 3, while Dave hid nearby. Both of them carried guns, just in case.


    Around nine o''clock, as Julian was beginning to feel the chill, a drunkard holding a bottle stumbled toward him. Julian instinctively slipped his hand into his pocket. Unlike a train station, a dock typically had no cargo at night, so it was rare to see a soul after working hours, especially in such a remote area. Could this person be Shaun?


    "You''re early!" Before Julian could speak, the drunkard spoke first, staggering over to sit on the bench beside him. He suddenly raised his head and started to vomit. The sour, rancid smell was unbearable, and Julian covered his nose and moved to another bench. After a while, Shaun wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and came over.


    Now seeming much more alert, with his eyes bright, Shaun looked Julian over and chuckled. "I''ve been wanting to meet you for a while, but better late than never. Let me formally introduce myself¡ªShaun Connors, senior agent with the Imperial Security Bureau."


    "I bet you''re wondering what a senior agent is doing in a small town like Ternell, right?" Shaun appeared lively and energetic, shrugging. "I simply did what I thought needed to be done, that''s all." He sighed, giving Julian a sly look under the moonlight. "You''ve had some tough days lately."


    Julian simply smiled, a hint of denial in his expression.


    "Don''t bother denying it¡ªI know who Jon is!"


    The moment Shaun said this, a surge of murderous intent welled up within Julian, but he restrained himself. "I don''t know what you''re talking about, and I''d also like to know who this Jon is."


    Shaun shook his head. "You''re not being honest, friend." He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, but possibly due to drinking, he fumbled, dropping a cigarette on the ground. As he bent down to retrieve it, he exposed his back and the back of his head.


    In that moment, Julian could have easily drawn his gun and silenced this man who knew too much. Time seemed to stretch, yet also pass quickly. By the time Julian hesitated, Shaun had already picked up the cigarette.


    He put the cigarette in his mouth, the brief glow illuminating his amused face before it quickly faded into darkness. In that darkness, the ember of the cigarette suddenly grew bright, its warmth almost palpable.


    "Let''s work together. My goal is to return to the capital, and yours is to solve your current problem. Fundamentally, there''s no conflict between us, right?" In the dim red glow of the cigarette, Shaun''s proposal was especially enticing.


    Under the moonlight, Shaun''s bright eyes revealed a genuine sincerity that was almost embarrassingly earnest. He was serious¡ªhe truly wanted to help Julian overcome his current predicament.


    But more than that, he wanted to personally expose the corruption of the Old Party in Ternell. Shaun dreamed of returning to the Empire''s core, of proving to everyone that he wasn''t a deserter. But all of this hinged on one thing: he needed tangible achievements, something that could impress the powerful figures of the New Party.


    His superior had "assigned" him to Ternell to keep him out of the way, a thinly veiled exile, but Shaun wasn''t resigned to this fate. He wanted to go back, to join in the investigation of the Empire''s biggest conspiracy to date.


    Previously, he had no leads and spent his days drinking heavily, taking precautions, but also frequenting bars and public places to gather intelligence on Ternell. The more he learned, the more he realized that Ternell was a place that could serve as his springboard back to the Empire''s center.


    This city was rotten to the core!


    Under the Old Party''s rule, everything revolved around money; transactions between businessmen and politicians were conducted openly. The influential figures in town cared nothing for the lives of the city''s residents; their only concern was how much money they''d amassed this month and how much was theirs versus what they had to remit.


    Yes, remit.


    As a base of Old Party control, Ternell''s primary purpose was to "fund" the upper echelons of the Old Party. A large portion of the black money would flow through various channels into the state-level Old Party campaign offices, some of it serving as campaign funds for the Old Party in Kanners as it fought for governorships and legislative seats.


    But a larger portion continued upwards, flowing into the Old Party''s "Imperial Lion Club" in the capital. This club''s major shareholders were the Old Party''s top brass, who redistributed the funds across regions to resist the New Party.


    If Ternell''s lifeline was severed, if its funding function was destroyed, a domino effect would ensue. Enraged citizens and the media would widely report Kanners''s corruption, and the New Party would seize the opportunity to attack the Old Party''s power in Kanners. Once the Old Party lost the Kanners "lifeline," all its plans would need to be revised, and some might even have to be abandoned.


    At that point, Shaun would become famous, recognized by the New Party''s leadership as a pioneer in anti-corruption efforts, earning his way back to the Empire''s core, where he could continue investigating¡­


    S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 141 - 141 Cooperation

    The thought invigorated Shaun, and he clenched his fist in excitement. Now, all he needed was for Julian to agree.


    He wanted to lift the lid on the Old Party''s corruption in Ternell, but he couldn''t do it alone. He needed someone to work with him, and Julian was the ideal ally.


    First of all, Julian had money. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It might seem shallow, but even as a high ranking agent of the Imperial Security Bureau with grand ideals, Shaun couldn''t ignore the importance of money. In this era, you could be unattractive, you could have nothing, but you had to have money. With money, there was nothing you couldn''t obtain¡ªstatus, prestige, even the sacred love that philosophers and art enthusiasts held so dear. It was all just a matter of price.


    Money was needed to buy critical informants, to acquire special equipment, and even to cover basic needs. It was essential.


    Secondly, Julian had reliable people. Unlike other gangs, the association''s purity was something Shaun valued. The Guar members of the association might all dream of wealth, but they adhered strictly to Guar values. Even when Pronto was spreading information about Jon, none of them had come forward for money.


    They were trustworthy, and that was crucial.


    With money and people, the only remaining step was to risk it all. Shaun had his reason¡ªto return to the capital and prove he was no deserter. Julian had his own reason, too¡ªif Dave were caught, it would spell the end for him, the association, and all the Guar.


    With a shared goal and a similar plight, why not join forces to unleash their rage on this decaying world?


    Julian''s expression shifted as he thought it over. After a moment, he said, "With the mayor''s resources, it won''t take a week for him to find out who Jon is. If you want to work with me, we need to survive this first week."


    Shaun had already anticipated this. He chuckled, but his expression quickly turned serious. Julian narrowed his eyes, instinctively rolling back and drawing his gun, aiming into the pitch black night where Shaun had glanced. The next second, the sound of retching broke the silence. Julian''s eye twitched as Shaun laughed and vomited, heaven knows how much he had drunk that night.


    After a while, when Shaun had finished vomiting, the two moved to a new bench. Wiping his lips, Shaun grinned. "Pronto has never trusted me. Ever since I arrived, he''s had people watching me. Acting like a drunken fool every day was the only way to keep him from suspecting me."


    The fortunate thing was that places frequented by drunks were often ideal for gathering information. Shaun easily picked up what he needed from the mouths of inebriated patrons and skilled "ladies of the night." Of course, these sources provided mostly low-level information; he obtained higher-level intelligence directly from the State Investigation Bureau.


    For years, Pronto hadn''t let up on his surveillance, and Shaun had grown increasingly wary of him.


    He was as cunning as a fox and just as cautious.


    After listening to Shaun''s account, Julian nodded in understanding. He had always known Pronto was sly, but he hadn''t realized he could be paranoid to the point of resembling a deranged fanatic.


    "How do you plan to help me get through this rough period?" Julian asked. He handed Shaun a handkerchief, which Shaun tossed to the ground, unable to put it away with the vomit on it. With a slight frown, he brought up the topic that would be the crux of their cooperation.


    Shaun chuckled nonchalantly and asked, "For someone like Peter, what do you think is the most precious thing?"


    Without much thought, Julian replied, "His life?"


    Shaun shook his head.


    "His power and status?"


    Shaun shook his head again, lifting a hand to stop Julian from guessing further. His eyes sparkled. "For politicians, their political life is their most important asset, even more than their lives or their families."


    The Dren Law was a restrictive bill proposed by Prime Minister Dren over three hundred years ago to curb the power of the nobility, allowing royal power to expand further. The Dren Law still exerted unparalleled restraint today. In simple terms, Dren argued that "any group pursuing selfish political interests is essentially illegal, infringing on the rights of the royal family and all fair minded nobles." After this law passed, all political organizations had to register and declare their political objectives.


    This was one reason for the eventual establishment of the Empire''s Imperial Parliament, the predecessor to today''s bicameral legislature.


    For politicians, they could accept their own death or tolerate the loss of power and benefits, but their political life had to remain intact. Even if they died, their political life wouldn''t end with them. It would live on in the contributions they''d made to politics, keeping their legacy "alive."


    "To divert Peter''s attention temporarily, there are two ways." Shaun said, pausing to let the anticipation build. Julian couldn''t help but laugh, feeling a bit more relaxed. Shaun''s tendency to provide two examples to support his points was something Julian could relate to.


    Shaun shot him an odd look before continuing, "First, Peter has been married to Vivian for years without any children. He has four mistresses, but still no offspring. This suggests he''s physically¡­ compromised, that he lost the ability to have children."


    "Political life can continue in two ways. One is through achieving lasting accomplishments, like Norland, influencing future politicians. The other is to have one''s political legacy carried on through descendants. Remove Jon, eliminate any witnesses¡­"


    "The second method? Follow the money trail."


    Accounts are a terrifying topic. How many tax officials have mysteriously fallen on their way to the cities where they were to take office? The empire''s tax revenue has long been a black hole. During the feudal monarchy, nobles held absolute control over their territories and could never allow the royal family to plunder resources and wealth from their lands. This was one of the greatest conflicts between the nobility and the royal family.

 Chapter 142 - 142 No One Is Worthy Of Trust

    Over time, local tax officials were either bribed by governors or mayors, reporting less than ten thousand in taxes annually, or they would withdraw to the tax office, quietly serving out their term before leaving in disgrace.


    Although the tax issue has improved significantly, tax reform remains one of the key reforms strongly promoted by the new party. However, progress has been slow, with no breakthrough achievements so far.


    This does not mean the empire has given up on tax matters. Quite the opposite, under the current rule of the new party, taxes are highly prioritized. If any issues are found in the accounts, the new party will undoubtedly intervene.


    The reason is quite simple: the new party is poor.


    The old party''s funding came from layers of illicit contributions, but what funds the new party''s operations? The answer: donations from socially concerned citizens, a blend of officials and businessmen, and income from the "royal merchants." Most donations from "concerned citizens" come from merchants with emerging influence, who trade financial support for political protection and backing, seeking greater benefits. Some of these merchants have even transformed into political figures, naturally using the money to showcase their unique political ambitions and decision-making capabilities.


    Finally, the largest portion of revenue comes from the royal merchants. Royal merchants are the exclusive business people of the royal family, and thanks to them, the royal family maintains a certain dignity, at least allowing them to live without relying on taxes, which yield little revenue. The royal merchants themselves hold considerable influence, earning substantial profits.


    Yet, this is not enough for the new party to give up on taxes.


    Only by resolving the tax issue can the ruling party of the empire address its biggest dilemma: numerous reform plans but no funds for implementation.


    Is the new party blind to the tax loopholes in these cities? Of course not. However, seeing the issues doesn''t mean they can pinpoint them. With tax reforms stalling, expecting useful information from tax officials long since bought off is pure fantasy. When higher-ups conduct investigations, they find that all tax declarations are reasonable, with no sign of "corruption." S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Without evidence, how can they leverage this opportunity to act?


    So, this remains a dilemma, a significant one.


    Every fortress imagines the enemy outside as immensely powerful, but they often overlook that many adversaries come from within. It may be difficult for outsiders to examine Ternell City''s accounts, but for locals, is it really so hard?


    Julian revealed his entire plan: he would use his influence as a senior agent to sway the state investigation bureau in Carnless, prompting them to send a formal team to escort tax officials from the tax bureau for a local audit. This would certainly divert Peter''s attention away from Jon and focus it on dealing with this "troublesome" tax official. With this distraction, they would have ample time to do many things, such as finding a patron for Julian.


    If Julian could secure a powerful patron, he wouldn''t need to worry about being swept away by Peter, even when facing the mayor. The next step would be to gather evidence and expose the corruption in Ternell City.


    It sounded reasonable. At least Julian hadn''t detected any glaring flaws. He nodded in agreement, though inwardly still cautious, unwilling to fully trust anyone outside his circle.


    After discussing the details, the two parted ways.


    On the way back, Dave asked, "Do you trust him?" referring to Shaun.


    Julian shook his head solemnly. "I don''t trust him. On the surface, we''re cooperating, but in reality, we must find a way to save ourselves and not place all our hopes in others'' hands." Saying this, he pulled out a cigarette, handed one to Dave, and after lighting up, they continued walking. "Our immediate priority is to meet with Madame Vivian. Only by meeting her can we find the exit from this labyrinth."


    Dave showed no outward reaction, knowing he wasn''t as clever as Julian. He just had to play the role of executor, leaving the reasoning to others.


    The next morning, two young police officers appeared at Peter''s mansion gates, diligently stationed from morning till night without leaving. Returning after an evening engagement, Peter even had a pack of cigarettes and twenty dollars sent to each officer as a reward. Peter understood this was likely Pronto''s way of currying favor, though he held no particular regard for Pronto; he had no prejudice against the police.


    After all, for whatever reason, these two were on guard here, weren''t they?


    For three days, the staff at the mansion grew accustomed to the two officers at the gate. Even the servants grew fond of them, as their presence reduced the servants'' workload, eliminating the need for constant patrols to prevent potential issues.


    On the fourth day, the sky was overcast, and a strong wind carried a fine mist and droplets, suggesting an imminent downpour. With a stern expression, the mayor hurriedly boarded his car and sped away. That day, investigators from the state tax bureau were due to arrive in Ternell City for a week-long audit. Sometimes Peter despised the new party, knowing these actions were pointless yet continuing regardless, as if to spite him.


    At 9:40 a.m., a torrential downpour suddenly erupted, as if someone had pierced the sky. The deluge blurred the world, and the butler, watching the shivering officers by the gate from the second-floor window, hesitated, then instructed a servant to invite them inside.


    As the butler, his interests aligned with his master. Peter wasn''t a difficult mayor to deal with; on the contrary, behind his harsh exterior, he had a charming side. He was caring and gentle. Whether this was his nature or a facade, he had crafted his public image to perfection.


    The young officers, shivering under thick blankets on the porch, had rainwater trickling down into their boots, and despite the blankets, their faces remained pale, still trembling.


    "Bring them two cups of hot tea and dry clothes. They''ve endured great hardship guarding us here, and in this weather, I doubt anyone will have the audacity to cause trouble." While saying this, the butler also instructed the mansion guards to secure all exits and prevent anyone from entering.


    The two officers, profusely thankful, dried off, changed clothes, and dozed off in the servants'' lounge, seemingly forgotten by everyone.

 Chapter 143 - 143 Meeting Madame Vivian

    In this dark, stormy weather!


    Madame Vivian had just sipped some broth, lacking any appetite. Had she not been pregnant, she might not have even managed the broth.


    Every woman longs for the day she can become a mother, a right granted by God. Whether they wield power or status, they deserve this right.


    Gently caressing her still-flat stomach, Madame Vivian gazed out at the rain-soaked darkness, feeling as though her world mirrored the dreary scene outside, bleak and devoid of any future.


    A soft knock interrupted her thoughts, and she frowned. Though Peter hadn''t explicitly said so, everyone knew Vivian was confined within the estate. She could do whatever she wished, except leave.


    "Come in," she called out, her raspy voice carrying a trace of melancholy as she gazed out the window, feeling as though her heart had died. She was certain that if Peter found Jon, he would kill him¡ªand her child. The outside world was perilous for the unborn; even a minor accident could deliver them into God''s embrace prematurely.


    A familiar voice coughed, brightening her eyes. Her body trembled slightly. Though a strong woman with an impressive background, she was still a woman. At this moment, any woman would yearn for someone to comfort her, to bring even a shred of warmth. Yet this surprise was too much, so overwhelming she dared not turn around.


    "It''s dangerous here; leave immediately before Peter returns!" Vivian sighed, finally yielding to herself. She stood and turned, looking at the familiar figure, though momentarily stunned by the boy standing beside Jon.


    The boy stepped forward, bowing. "This may not be the best timing, but I''m honored to meet you, esteemed Madame Vivian."


    "You may call me Julian, Jon''s friend."


    "Julian?" Madam Vivian showed a hint of contemplation, hesitating for a while before saying, "I feel like I''ve heard that name somewhere before." Her expression was calm, and it was no surprise that she hadn''t heard of Julian, an unremarkable "small figure." If it hadn''t been for Jon''s presence, she would have bluntly admitted that she had no idea who he was.


    Julian merely smiled, unfazed by her reaction. Even though she was under house arrest and stripped of her freedom, Madam Vivian was still Madam Vivian. She had her pride, and even in her downfall, she wouldn''t easily reveal her vulnerable side to just anyone.


    Vivian''s expression shifted slightly, and she scrutinized Julian carefully before abruptly asking, "Was this all arranged by you?"


    If she still didn''t understand the situation by now, her whole life would have been wasted. Clearly, Jon''s presence was part of Julian''s plan. She looked at Julian and then at Dave with a mix of hatred and resentment.


    Dave hesitated to speak, then closed his mouth, choosing silence. He wanted to say something, but nothing could change the fact¡ªit was Julian who orchestrated his approach to her, an ironclad reality.


    From Vivian''s perspective, Jon might lie, and Julian might continue to deceive her, but what shocked her was that Julian openly admitted it.


    "Yes, Madam," Julian said. "I specifically arranged for Jon to approach you, with the purpose of influencing your judgment and thereby impacting the mayor''s decisions." Madam Vivian''s eyes blazed with anger as she coldly turned away, saying nothing.


    In her life, there were a few who had hurt her deeply. The first was her husband. Although he had married her for status and power, he pretended it was all divinely arranged. For a long time after their wedding, Vivian was in shock, numbing herself through promiscuity as a form of revenge. Deep down, she hoped he would feel jealous, showing he cared for her despite his hunger for power.


    But she failed. He ignored her actions, remaining solely focused on his position, resources, and ambition to become governor. Peter had always been careful not to stake everything on a single election; he was aiming for the next one, preparing for every opportunity. For someone so obsessed with power, a wife was merely an accessory to fulfill societal duties. However, Vivian''s pregnancy represented a loss of control over his family¡ªa problem for any politician, as family stability was essential for public image and future advancement.


    Therefore, while he kept the matter secret from everyone but the butler and Vivian herself, he also instigated a city-wide search for Jon.


    Vivian''s relationship with Jon had started as a way to indulge in the thrill of freedom, but over time, she developed a shameful fondness for him, and her feelings deepened. She saw Jon as both a lover and a child, a desire that arose from her longing to become a mother.


    For real libertines, the term "mother" might be a joke, but for a woman yearning for motherhood, the word held a sacred meaning. Thus, she had taken the risk. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    What hurt her now was discovering that Jon and Peter were the same¡ªboth had approached her with ulterior motives.


    "You may not know, Madam!" Julian didn''t back down in the face of her coldness. Instead, he spoke calmly with a knowing smile, "You may now learn Jon''s real name¡ªDave. He confessed his regret to me, admitting that he had developed feelings for a woman he should never have been involved with, which has left him feeling troubled and remorseful."


    Vivian sneered, her laughter filled with disdain. "Solve it? How? Do you really think that a bunch of nobodies can win a battle against the mayor? This outcome was inevitable from the start."


    Julian shook his head. "Then, do you truly want your child to be denied even a single breath of free air?"


    Instinctively, Vivian''s hand went to her belly, her face darkening.


    When Mayor Peter returned late that night, he looked utterly exhausted. The state tax bureau''s investigator had been relentless, demanding all financial statements from the past year to be brought out for examination, scrutinizing each paper one by one. Peter had tried every trick to disrupt the investigation while destroying evidence and silencing witnesses.


    Loosening his tie, he handed his briefcase to the butler and asked offhandedly, "Did the Madam keep quiet today, as usual?"

 Chapter 144 - 144 You Should Be A Strong Woman

    Peter walked into the study, removed his coat, and reclined on the sofa. With his eyes closed, recent events churned continuously in his mind, leaving him somewhat exhausted.


    Following Wood''s death, the funds he provided monthly were temporarily missing, but more concerning was the sense of unease the mayor felt with Gador''s death. At some point, things had gradually begun to spiral out of control¡ªa worrying sign for someone like him, who made the rules. Even more troubling was that, amidst his uncertainty, the state tax bureau had dispatched an investigator to audit Ternell City''s taxes. It was hard to say if this was somehow connected.


    Adding to his distress was Vivian''s sudden pregnancy¡ªa tangled mess that left him feeling overwhelmed.


    "Madam hasn''t attempted to leave the estate these past few days, has she?" asked the mayor, savoring a rare moment of tranquility after his busy and intense work schedule. Under such pressure, most people would have crumbled, but Peter relished it; he was a man who chased power, right from the start and even now.


    The butler, while hanging up the mayor''s coat, responded, "As of now, Madam hasn''t left her room and has only eaten sparingly."


    "Has anyone visited her?" Vivian had numerous close friends¡ªsocialites of the city, whose husbands were either imperial officials or ambitious moguls in Ternell City. Men''s social interactions were often intertwined with women''s charms, so it wasn''t surprising that not all of them returned home full of energy. This also made the city''s elite women''s circle somewhat chaotic.


    Vivian was the most prominent figure in this circle, and her absence over several days was bound to raise questions, prompting someone to contact her and organize some gathering. These women were not to be underestimated¡ªthis was wisdom Peter had accumulated over the years. They might lack capabilities in serious matters, but when it came to creating trouble, they were experts. Vivian''s gatherings and social circle were allowed and even encouraged by Peter, as, when needed, these women could yield substantial benefits for him. At worst, they wouldn''t spoil his plans without reason.


    "Sir, yesterday Madam Graf visited, but Madam excused herself, citing discomfort. Since then, no one else has come or attempted to visit," the butler dutifully answered. Being a butler was no easy task, and being a butler to someone of power was even harder.


    Peter nodded. "And the officers at the entrance? Had they left by the time I returned?"


    "Yes, sir. There was a heavy downpour today, and they got drenched, so I invited them inside for a short rest. It seems they caught colds. To prevent spreading illness within the estate, I allowed them to leave after a brief respite."


    "Well done!"


    A cold is a peculiar ailment. It isn''t particularly fierce; it won''t render a person unable to stand or impair any bodily function, but it can still claim lives. The church had said that colds were a punishment from God¡ªa trial for the soul. Each year, many people succumb to colds, returning to God''s embrace. Strangely, even though the poor could seldom afford medicine, most managed to recover. In contrast, the wealthy, who used various precious medicines, would often, in a moment of carelessness, close their eyes forever.


    Some say it''s because the wealthy have dark hearts, which is why God judges them. This rumor lacks any basis or truth, and the authorities have denounced it, yet the powerful still believe it.


    As a result, they strictly avoided exposure to colds.


    Peter soon fell asleep, exhausted by his day-to-day responsibilities, but it was exhaustion he enjoyed.


    Meanwhile, two junior officers had removed their uniforms. This recent meeting with Madam Vivian had offered Julian a tremendous opportunity but also presented an even greater crisis. Julian firmly believed that when someone faces repeated setbacks, they develop resilience and a desire to overcome. Perhaps some people would accept their fate and bow their heads, but he believed Vivian was not one of them.


    She was born into the family of a governor, arriving in this world with a silver spoon, surrounded exclusively by nobles, politicians, and business tycoons. To her, the world might have always seemed this way¡ªuntil she fell, tasting the bitter and astringent dirt. Only then did she see the world clearly.


    Power, wealth, and prestige form this respectable world. To live respectably, to have everything go smoothly, relying on others is insufficient. Others may look up to you because of your husband or father, but ultimately, it''s only a fleeting glance. In the eyes of these politicians, family is but a decoration for social responsibility; it cannot alter their purpose or ambition.


    The only way to bring change is to immerse oneself, becoming one of them.


    When Mayor Peter, the current governor, and all political figures must look up to her, her will would become theirs.


    "If you wish to protect the child you''re carrying, if you want even a semblance of love that, though false, appears genuine, Madam Vivian, then it''s time for you to decide."


    "You should not be a woman reliant on others for necessities; you should be a strong woman. Your tea gatherings, your social circles, would allow you to achieve in a short time what most people couldn''t in a lifetime."


    "I am not urging you to defy your husband or your father; I merely hope to see an exceptional woman rise independently, representing countless women in weaker positions and voicing their own."


    While Peter slumbered in the study, Madam Vivian stood by the window, gazing at the enchanting post-rain moonlight, pondering Julian''s words. She had to admit, Julian was quite persuasive, successfully stirring her rebellious spirit and desire to change her destiny.


    As the night deepened, a question lingered in her mind.


    If she were the mayor, or even the governor, would her life be as it is now?


    No!


    It wouldn''t. As Julian said, even if it were false, Peter would grant her the life she desired! sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Clenching her fist, she gently touched her abdomen, making what could be the most critical decision of her life.

 Chapter 145 - 145 The Charity Event

    "Do you think Vivian will go along with your plan?" Sitting in the office of the Eastern Star Trading Company, Dave was somewhat worried about whether Julian''s plan would succeed. Although Julian always seemed to possess a magnetic charm, as if he were luck itself personified, this situation was entirely different from anything before. This opponent was in a different league compared to Wood or Gador.


    Peter possessed both power and wealth, controlling the entire city. If the prison warden was the king of the prison, then Peter was the king of this city. Did a bunch of mud-legged underdogs think they could overthrow a king? Was this sheer imagination or pure arrogance?


    Julian toyed with his lighter, occasionally sparking it, a faint smile on his face, showing no sign of anxiety in response to Dave''s concerns. The truth was, Mrs. Vivian was the only key to defeating Mayor Peter. As Julian had always believed, the quickest and most effective way to bring down a fortress was from within. Peter''s strength lay not in his own terrifying capabilities, but in the layers of prestige surrounding him. Once those layers were stripped away, what would remain?


    He would be less than an ordinary man, for ordinary people knew how to sustain themselves through labor, while Peter could do nothing.


    As for whether he could persuade Vivian to become the one who would dismantle the fortress named "Peter," Julian had no worries. Mrs. Vivian had had enough. She desired change, and her pregnancy was the loudest protest and declaration of defiance against her past life. Julian had now added fuel to her fire. If she did not want to sink further, if she desired any change, then now was the perfect time¡ªwhile she still carried the child, she could accomplish many things that would otherwise be beyond her reach.


    And this was not Julian''s only, nor final, strategy. Besides this direct plan involving Vivian, Julian had set up another relatively moderate, yet equally disruptive plan.


    The union!


    Indeed, in the eyes of many, Julian was now part of the "exploiting class," the epitome of a successful businessman, the embodiment of the imperial dream. But no one could change one fact¡ªup to this point, he was still a registered member of the workers'' union. In other words, with just a bit of sacrifice, he could secure the union''s support!


    In the eyes of the capitalists, one or two workers, three or five workers, might be mere targets of exploitation. But thirty or fifty workers, three or five hundred workers gathering together¡ªthat was a nightmare for every capitalist and politician. Beyond that, Julian also intended to release another long-suppressed nightmare¡ªthe church.


    This was why he was unbothered by the potential negative consequences this incident might bring him. At worst, he could pack up and leave. But if he managed to withstand the mayor''s offensive and stage a beautiful counterattack, he''d have the opportunity to step into the very echelon everyone envied within Ternell City.


    Julian glanced at Dave. "Did you just call her Vivian? By the former king, have you actually fallen in love with that woman?" The choice of address was very telling, reflecting one''s true feelings. When referring to someone despised, derogatory terms like "fool" or "scoundrel" would flow out without thought. Similarly, when speaking of someone beloved, be it family or a loved one, kind and affectionate terms were the instinctual choice.


    For Dave to openly call her "Vivian" indicated that, deep down, he had accepted Vivian as a part of his life.


    A slight blush appeared on Dave''s face, handsome enough to make others envious. This instantly reminded Julian of a famous woman from another world who had once said that the shortest way to a woman''s heart was through a certain path. That saying could apply to men too. To hold a man''s heart, you first had to keep him captivated.


    Indeed, passion was the catalyst of relationships. Conflicts between spouses or lovers could often be solved in a single encounter; if one wasn''t enough, then two.


    Dave gave up under Julian''s gaze, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I admit, I''m a bit infatuated with Vivian. Have you ever met a woman willing to open her heart to you?" S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian whistled, looking at Dave as if he''d discovered a new world. "I never knew you had the potential to be a philosopher. You should go to school, I''m serious!"


    Dave shrugged. "But schools don''t admit assassins!"


    Julian glanced at the time, stood up, and put on a fresh set of clothes. "Luckily, it''s time. Otherwise, I''d die here from your tragic love story. Stay here, wait for my return!"


    That evening, there was a charity gala in the city, attended by the wealthy and even members of the church. These rich people would hypocritically donate wealth and supplies to the poor, only to exploit them back, gaining a good reputation without any loss. No wonder everyone was so eager to do charity.


    The charity event was held at the Ternell Grand Theater, hosted by nearly all of the city''s elite and various social groups, making it a critical social event. Every month, a similar charity gala would be held for reasons ranging from celebrating the emperor''s birthday to honoring the victory in the War of National Defense, even with events for the Lord''s Christmas Day.


    It was a complex and carefully orchestrated social arena. To step into high society, one had to build a reputation here first.


    Julian drove to the Ternell Grand Theater, looking up at the flashing neon lights, feeling a surge of emotion. Just over three months ago, he was here dreaming of expanding the car-washing business globally. Now, three months later, he had become a successful bootlegger and smuggler¡ªwhat a world!


    He casually pulled two fifty-cent coins from his pocket and tossed them onto the ground, instantly drawing the attention of three or five men with buckets who rushed over, fighting for the coins. The losers were crestfallen, while the winners beamed. Washing a car for a dollar was rare here. However, one of the men looked at Julian''s back thoughtfully, feeling that he had seen this man somewhere before.

 Chapter 146 - 146 Flayna The Star Of Ternell City

    People''s memories of each other often last only a fleeting moment, especially when it''s one common person remembering another. But the memory of an ordinary person toward someone of prominence can linger much longer. For the lives of the powerful are intertwined with those of the common people, and even a casual action by someone influential can change an ordinary person''s life forever.


    For the car washers outside the Ternell Grand Theater, the impression of powerful figures was particularly vivid. Their simple clothes and the food digesting in their bellies all came from these prominent individuals. Sometimes, just by respectfully calling out a dignitary''s title, they might earn an extra coin or even a one-dollar bill.


    However, the confused car washer still hadn''t figured out who that familiar figure was. He felt he knew this person well, and they''d even crossed paths before.


    But the problem was, he was just an ordinary man. How could someone like him build a "connection" with a person of influence?


    Julian signed his name in the guestbook, nodded slightly, and then walked into the theater. The Ternell Grand Theater had hosted countless events, and there was a mature setup in place for arranging the venue and welcoming guests.


    Guided by an attendant, Julian was led to a seat in the ninth row, closer to the edge. He didn''t have any complaints, knowing that his sudden rise lacked deep roots and connections. Being placed in the ninth row, rather than the twelfth, was already a sign of respect.


    At events like these, seating arrangements best reflected one''s status and rank. For example, seated in the middle of the first row was none other than the "king" of Ternell City, Mayor Peter, flanked by two councilmen, followed by other officials. The tycoons were relegated to the third row, while the second row was reserved for social elites.


    These elites often held no specific titles and were not necessarily as wealthy as the tycoons, but they had deep-rooted influence and heritage. Their ancestors might have been nobility, or they might have relatives in important positions elsewhere. In some cases, they wielded substantial influence in high society.


    In short, these elites might lack direct power or vast wealth, but they possessed influence.


    Influence is a mysterious "magic." Under its sway, public attitudes and perceptions can be altered. These individuals could affect the values of ordinary citizens and even sway the decisions and judgments of policymakers. Some referred to these social elites as the "shadow governors," describing their role in society.


    One by one, distinguished guests continued to arrive, and the theater grew lively. Attendants carried trays with drinks and fruits, weaving through the guests. Almost everyone stood in small groups of three or five, either warmly chatting or whispering to each other. Amidst these hidden conversations, decisions were made, and certain ideas dismissed.


    Perhaps this was what people admired as "high society"!


    "Are you here alone?" Julian turned around to see a young woman dressed in vibrant attire. Small, sparkling accessories adorned her hair, and her stylish hairstyle, refined makeup, and well-designed outfit made her look fresh and radiant. Julian felt he''d seen this girl before. After a brief moment of thought, he smiled and said, "I''m terribly sorry, but despite my best efforts, I still can''t recall your name!"


    The girl laughed without a hint of offense and extended a hand clad in white lace gloves, lightly shaking his. "My name is Flayna. I can tell you''re a busy person who doesn''t have much time to notice posters around town."


    At the mention of posters and after she introduced herself, Julian''s face showed sudden realization. He remembered who she was. She was an opera actress, performing stage plays and minor roles in operas at the Ternell Grand Theater. Her youthful charm had garnered a small following, though both the world of theater and opera were realms that valued tradition and hierarchy.


    Flayna held an awkward position in the theater, always a supporting character and never the lead. Some thought it unfortunate, while others believed it fitting. The Lord had granted her remarkable beauty, but not more, for it would be unfair to others. Rumor had it that the theater director had wanted Flayna to become his lover, but she had refused, and thus the lead roles in plays and operas had been closed to her ever since.


    Some went as far as to say the director was "waiting" for her, expecting that she would eventually give in and willingly climb into his bed.


    Speaking of the theater director, one couldn''t ignore this sixty-something man''s influence in Ternell and even across the state. Although he was only the director of a theater, he had made outstanding contributions to the arts. In his youth, three of his operas and plays won the highest arts awards. Many of his students went on to become notable artists, with one even teaching at the Imperial Royal Academy of Arts.


    In this sense, the director was also a social elite, as he held considerable influence.


    It was a sad and twisted society, with many "social elites" regarding the director''s behavior as a refined interest, never considering the oppressed individuals'' thoughts and attitudes. They promoted and even bet on it among themselves, perhaps viewing it as "high culture."


    Julian patted his forehead and extended his hand again. "I remember now, Miss Flayna, the star of Ternell City."


    "Star?" Flayna extended her hand and shook his again, visibly pleased. "Do you really think so? Most people only see me as a supporting character; rarely does anyone call me a star."


    Julian responded earnestly, "When a person gains a certain level of recognition and frequently appears in public, they meet the basic criteria of a star. So, in that sense, you are indeed a star."


    Flayna laughed brightly. "It''s a pleasure talking to you. May I have your contact information? I still don''t know your name!"


    After seeing Flayna off, Julian had just sat down, barely warming his seat, when Ernst appeared beside him out of nowhere. "That woman isn''t as simple as she seems. Try not to get too involved with her." Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Although most people assumed that Julian and Ernst should be at each other''s throats, competing ruthlessly to dominate Ternell City''s bootleg market, it wasn''t surprising for Ernst to sit down beside Julian and offer him a cigarette. This was the way of high society. This was the elegance expected of the elite during social gatherings. Put simply, you might want nothing more than to stab the person in front of you, but in this setting, at this moment, you had to treat them like a dear friend.

 Chapter 147 - 147 The Charity Auction

    Only in this way could one embody the twisted values upheld by mainstream society.


    Yes, twisted was the right word.


    Julian took out his lighter, lit Ernst''s cigarette, then his own. Together with Carrell, the two had engaged in fierce competition within Ternell City, though they had managed to restrain themselves from using outright violence. Still, the price war had become vicious, with the wholesale price of bootleg liquor dropping by one to two dollars, thinning their profits. In the eyes of the public, they seemed on the verge of bloody conflict. What people didn''t know was that, on the outside, the three had already seized substantial profits in the external bootleg markets, surpassing the local market returns.


    At the same time, their apparent infighting also connected to the growing influx of outside bootleg liquor into Ternell. This wasn''t just about recreating the thrill of "first love"; their actions may have awakened those previously content with the local market, prompting bootleggers across various territories to start expanding outward.


    A large quantity of out-of-town bootleg liquor began pouring into Ternell, and in order to protect their market, a price war became essential. The three took turns slashing prices, catching the outside competition off guard. They had come to seize market share, only to find Ternell''s market already cutthroat. Apart from a few premium brands targeting high-end consumers, the middle- and low-end competitors had all retreated.


    Unable to bear the costs, especially with high transport expenses, outside sellers simply couldn''t compete with local bootleggers amidst the ongoing price war. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In other cities, however, bootleggers were less organized, not yet forming a tightly knit alliance like a trade union, leaving them defenseless against similarly priced but slightly better quality imports. This allowed Ternell''s bootlegging trio to rake in substantial profits, so much so that even Carrell, the smallest shareholder, was often seen smiling and cracking jokes with those around him.


    So the harmony between Julian and Ernst wasn''t entirely an act¡ªit was genuine!


    Julian glanced toward the direction in which the girl had left, exhaling a puff of smoke. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "What''s the story? Got any other interesting details?"


    Ernst nodded, crossing his legs as he recounted in detail.


    Flayna wasn''t an ordinary girl. She knew the theater director coveted her youth and beauty, yet she still managed to stir up two tycoons to compete for her against the director. Sadly, she hadn''t achieved the freedom she wanted. Both tycoons had since become part of Ternell''s history, ruined by bankruptcy and eventual suicide due to various "accidents." And yet, Flayna continued to do the same, hoping for a "hero" who could vanquish the "villain" and rescue her.


    However, she never considered what would happen if the "hero" couldn''t defeat the "villain"¡­ Right, she''d simply seek out the next hero.


    After listening to Ernst''s explanation, Julian smacked his lips and chuckled. Clearly, no one who could survive in this environment was simple.


    Seeing that Julian understood, Ernst patted his shoulder and stood up to leave. His seat was in the fourth row, not here.


    After about half an hour of social mingling, people finally returned to their seats, and the charity gala commenced. The host was the Ternell Director of Education, responsible for the city''s imperial citizen education. Rumor had it that the new party planned an administrative restructuring and rebranding in the upcoming midterm elections. But for now, this elderly man with gold-rimmed glasses, snow-white hair, and a solemn face still carried the air of a seasoned politician, presiding over the city''s education department.


    He cleared his throat, and the hall instantly quieted. The elderly man began with some old, yet socially accepted words of blessing, hypocritically encouraging more attention to education. Then he droned on about how, with the interest and support of many tycoons and elites, Ternell''s education had improved significantly in recent years. He also reminded the guests that 30% of the funds raised tonight would go directly into the Education Department''s account to fund more "affordable" education, broadening citizens'' access to knowledge.


    While Julian sat bored in the theater, participating in what was ultimately a dull charity auction, outside the theater, a car washer holding a bucket and looking dazed suddenly jolted awake. He remembered who that familiar figure belonged to!


    It was that hardworking young man, so meticulous about his work that it annoyed the others. Rather than just brushing off the dust for a decent reward, he went out of his way to thoroughly clean each car, forcing the others to put in more effort to earn the same pay. Because of this, the washer had reported him to Mad Dog, sparking a conflict between himself and the young man.


    Perhaps he was just working here; maybe the car wasn''t even his, just one he had parked for someone else.


    The skinny man justified his findings to himself, as there was no logical way someone scraping by a few months ago could afford a car now. That car was worth at least 2,800 dollars, far beyond the reach of their class.


    2,800 dollars?


    Impossible!


    A slight change in his expression betrayed his thoughts. Truthfully, he had no deep hatred for that young man, beyond a few days of poor business. But Mad Dog had promised a five-dollar reward for anyone who provided information about him.


    Five dollars was significant; a car wash brought in about ten cents, and on a good day, he might wash three to five cars. That''s why they were so "casual" about their job. Car wash peak hours were usually in the evenings, and not every customer was particular about a spotless vehicle. Sometimes, an entire day would pass without work. Thus, washing cars quickly to get to the next was a necessary skill for every washer.


    Those five dollars equaled half a month''s earnings on a lucky streak.


    His Adam''s apple bobbed involuntarily. He knew exactly what awaited that young man if Mad Dog caught him. Truthfully, they had no real grudge, just brief irritation that didn''t even qualify as hatred.


    But¡­ it was still five dollars.


    He placed his bucket and tools under a lamppost, knowing his fellow washers would keep an eye on them for him. His desire for those five dollars compelled him to make a choice against his better judgment.


    He would go to Mad Dog and collect those five dollars.


    Someone might get hurt, or even die, because of this, but that was not his concern, was it?


    Inside the theater, Julian remained unaware of the attention his brief appearance had stirred. After sitting bored for half an hour, the charity auction''s second half finally began.


    The first half featured items donated by various tycoons, things that might be of some value but weren''t worth much in competition. According to the unwritten rules of charity auctions, the donors usually bid on their own items at a reasonable price. Unless someone really liked something, everyone would typically let the item''s owner take it back. This was the way of the game here.


    But the second half of the auction was different. These donations came mostly from Ternell''s elites and power players. Even the smallest trinket from them could fetch a high price. Were the tycoons and wealthy men foolish? Hardly. This was how they fostered relationships with elites and officials.


    The first item of the second half was a potted plant offered by one of Ternell''s councilmen. It appeared nondescript, lacking any apparent charm, yet its first bid already exceeded the final price of every item before it.


    "Three hundred dollars!" the theater''s young staff member shouted enthusiastically, waving his gavel. "This esteemed gentleman offers three hundred dollars for this pot filled with the spirit of the wild and nature. Any higher offers?" The staff member showcased the pot, filled with weeds found by any roadside. With Julian''s limited knowledge of art, he certainly saw nothing artistic about it.


    "Five hundred dollars!"


    "Five hundred fifty dollars!"


    ¡­


    As bidding reached a thousand dollars, the auction was about to close. Just as the auctioneer prepared to bring down the gavel, Julian raised his hand¡­

 Chapter 148 - 148 Bidding A Full 10,000 Dollars

    "Oh, this young gentleman has bid two thousand dollars. Any higher offers?" The auction staff''s face had taken on an unhealthy flush. Some might wonder why he was so excited¡ªafter all, what did a high-selling auction item have to do with him?


    Actually, this perception was incorrect. For this charity gala, the Ternell Grand Theater had been closed for five days: four days were spent setting up the venue and arranging seating, and the final day was dedicated to the auction and gala. Every task required substantial time and effort from the staff, and the five-day closure meant losing at least two shows. The Grand Theater wasn''t a charity itself; they were here to earn a commission.


    Of course, publicly, they''d claim hosting such events was free as part of their support for charity.


    But not a single cent of the fees would be spared. The amount they received depended on the total sales, with 1% going to the theater. Like the countless rules of the game structuring the city''s workings, this was one more rule in play.


    Thus, the higher the auction proceeds, the more the theater earned, and the auction staff could expect a small bonus as well.


    So, indeed, it mattered to him.


    Many gazes followed the staff''s line of sight to the ninth-row edge, where Julian was seated. He smiled and nodded continuously, and soon he noticed an old man seated in the center of the first row, slowly turning to look at him.


    The elderly man, his hair graying and his body slightly hunched, squinted, perhaps due to poor eyesight. His perfectly tailored suit and the respect afforded to him, along with his central seat, indicated he was likely the donor of this wild potted plant¡ªone of Ternell''s two council members.


    Julian stood up, held down the hem of his coat, and bowed. The elder''s face displayed a kindly smile as he nodded to Julian.


    Perhaps, in the old man''s mind, Julian was nothing but a fool, willing to pay an astonishing price of two thousand dollars for a clump of roadside weeds he''d dug up that very morning. If that wasn''t foolish, what was? But, at least in that moment, he was truly delighted. Tomorrow''s paper would prominently cover tonight''s charity gala, mentioning his name and his "donation"¡ªthe two thousand dollars. Who covered the cost wouldn''t be mentioned, unless the journalists, editors, and even the newspaper''s owner wanted to find themselves exiled from Ternell.


    His reputation for philanthropy would reach more ears, further solidifying his role as Ternell''s "great benefactor."


    Two thousand dollars for a pot of weeds¡ªa ridiculous price. Socialites and officials might see Julian as vulgar, shallow, or even foolish. But the tycoons would envy him, for that pot of weeds earned Julian the chance to meet with the councilman.


    This, too, was part of the game.


    Subsequent items donated by other prominent figures were also sold at high prices, with even Pronto contributing a box of "Paradise" that fetched twice its market price. Soon, the second councilman''s donation appeared on the auction block, but it met with a very different reception from Julian''s successful bid. His item was greeted with indifference.


    The reason was simple. Under imperial law, each city must have at least two council members, one from the Old Party and one from the New Party. Larger cities could have three, four, or even five council members, with each member joining the state council. Together, they voted on the state''s development plans and policies, with four of them ultimately advancing to the Imperial Parliament, split evenly between the Old and New Party.


    Ternell was well known as Old Party territory, with all significant institutions tightly held by its members. To have even one New Party councilman in such a city was to ensure he lived in "constant agony." Anyone who dared bid on his item would be aligning themselves with the New Party in Old Party territory¡ªa dangerous move indeed.


    Thus, even though the New Party councilman''s item was a fine cloisonn¨¦ pocket watch, no one raised a hand to bid. The theater fell into an eerie silence.


    The councilman awkwardly lifted his own hand, showing a single finger.


    The staff member on stage broke into a smile. "This gentleman bids one thousand dollars for this luxurious cloisonn¨¦ pocket watch, crafted by the renowned Orldo clockmaker¡ªa prime collectible. Any higher bids?"


    In three lightning-quick calls for bids, the councilman paid his own money to buy back his own donated watch. His face showed only slight discomfort rather than anger; in the past two years, he had experienced this more than once.


    Naturally, no one would discuss this peculiar process. The New Party councilman might be shunned in Ternell, but the mayor and other key city officials wouldn''t trouble him¡ªin fact, they''d strive to make his work and living environment as comfortable as possible, maximizing his quality of life. According to imperial law, a city''s proposal to the state council required the signatures of two council members from different parties to be considered valid.


    In other words, if he refused to sign, a city could go four or even eight years without any meaningful development. So people might avoid him, but they had no choice but to keep him happy.


    The brief silence soon passed, and the theater returned to its lively buzz, reaching the auction''s climax¡ªthe item donated by Mayor Peter.


    It was a painting. If Delier were present, he might have wept at his lack of artistic knowledge, wondering why a worthless oil painting could fetch such a high price.


    Yes, this was the same painting Delier had "sold" to Mrs. Vivian¡ªa worthless piece. But in this setting, at this moment, it was valued higher than works by established artists.


    This oil painting, meant to evoke spring but covered in green and yellow blotches, began bidding at two thousand dollars. The previously silent tycoons and wealthy guests seemed to come alive, money becoming merely a number. Within minutes, the price had surged to 4,600 dollars.


    Peter''s face remained calm and collected as always.


    Watching the dwindling number of bidders, Julian raised his fist, and a collective gasp spread through the room.


    "10.000 dollars!"


    This jaw-dropping bid drew every eye back to the young man seated at the edge of the ninth row. Had he gone mad?


    Such charity galas were frequent, sometimes held monthly, sometimes every two to three months. With so many events, bids rarely went over 5,000, as missing one didn''t mean waiting years for the next¡ªanother would be in just twenty-odd days. So everyone bid with restraint, typically stopping around 5,000 dollars.


    Tycoons and wealthy individuals understood that once a price was raised too high, lowering it again would be difficult.


    Peter''s donations usually went for 3,000 to 6,000 dollars at most.


    But bidding a full 10,000 dollars? This was unprecedented in Ternell!


    At this moment, Peter, who had remained silent and unexpressive, stood up and walked directly to the podium. "May I ask your name, young man?" His voice was low yet magnetic, filled with charm. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Julian also rose, bowed, and loudly replied, "My name is Julian, sir."


    Many present showed expressions of sudden understanding, and even Peter raised an eyebrow slightly¡ªhe''d heard the name before. Though some still thought Julian was crazy, they lost interest in criticizing his extravagance. Everyone knew that bootlegging was highly profitable, and many had heard of the rising new figure in Ternell''s bootleg scene. People exchanged knowing glances.


    Peter nodded firmly, pointing toward Julian. "I''ve heard of you!" The crowd''s gaze shifted between Julian and the mayor. "I won''t judge if what you''re doing is right or wrong, nor consider others'' opinions of you. But here and now, in this setting, I commend your actions. Even if your motives are impure, don''t ignore the impact of your donation on impoverished families in desperate need!"


    "Dozens, hundreds of families will see improvement thanks to your actions here. You''ll give them clothes to wear and food to fill their bellies. This is the purpose of tonight''s charity gala!" His voice grew louder, "To help those who need it!"


    "Mr. Julian, on behalf of the impoverished families in Ternell who need assistance, I thank you for your generosity!"


    Hearing these words, Julian felt momentarily elevated, as though he had become noble and great. But he knew this was all a performance, the political maneuvering of a small-town mayor. Though it was Julian pouring out his fortune to please the mayor, Peter''s words had turned both of them into symbols of virtue.


    Julian smiled and replied loudly, "I realize now what a foolish act I committed. I''m willing to donate another 10,000 dollars to Ternell''s charities. Thank you, Mayor, for showing me my error. I''m grateful for your guidance¡ªthank you!"


    Sitting in the second row, Heidler''s mouth twitched. He wondered if he''d misjudged Julian.


    Meanwhile, on the stage, the mayor finally allowed himself a slight smile.


    This young man¡­ not bad at all!

 Chapter 149 - 149 Hypocrisy of Both Parties

    "Have you joined any political party?" After the auction, people moved to the theater''s backyard, where a long table was set with cold appetizers. Over a dozen chefs in tall white hats stood by stoves, preparing dishes for the guests. Julian was sipping a glass of fruit wine when he heard someone ask the question behind him. He turned around, smiling politely, and shrugged.


    "Sorry, I haven''t joined any party, though I''d like to," he said, chuckling at himself. Raising his glass slightly, he clinked it with the person in front of him and took a sip. The wine''s sweet taste couldn''t mask the acidic hint from the fermented fruit. Even this expensive fruit wine couldn''t avoid the problem¡ªcompared to his Snow Elven brew, this wine was a disappointment.


    Lowering his arm, Julian continued, "As everyone knows, I''m just a farmer. I don''t represent any group or class. Given my situation, I''m afraid I don''t quite meet the standard yet." This wasn''t Julian just being modest; whether it was the Old Party, which was often slandered, or the reformist New Party, power had never truly shifted from the "nobles."


    People saw the New Party overthrowing the corrupt, feudal monarchy, but overlooked the backgrounds of its earliest members. They were military generals, influential social figures, wealthy elites, and prominent capitalists¡ªthere were even some "enlightened" nobles among them. So, power never truly passed from the nobles to the people. Simply put, control shifted from the old nobility to the new.


    In essence, the country was still ruled by nobles, and someone of Julian''s farming background was unqualified to join any party; even the New Party wouldn''t take him. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The visitor chuckled to himself, enjoying Julian''s words. It wasn''t because Julian was funny, but because he recognized Julian''s clear understanding of his own position.


    A farmer was just a farmer. Without permission, no amount of wealth would make him a noble.


    The visitor tapped the grass underfoot and said, "You''re too modest. Modesty is a virtue, but it can also be a kind of hypocrisy." He paused, and when Julian didn''t speak, he looked at him more formally. "If I were to invite you now to join the Holy Empire''s Glorious Party, would you accept?"


    The Glorious Party was what the Old Party called itself. Most of its core and upper members were nobles of varying ranks from the past empire. They believed that the empire''s glory remained with them alone¡ªthey were the future of the country, destined to rule it. Many commoners, however, saw them as the empire''s poison. The Old Party was commonly referred to as "rotting corpses" or the "mud of decay." While most people thought this way, they still formally called it the "Old Party" in public.


    The invitation to Julian to join the Old Party wasn''t a hasty decision. Julian''s bootlegging business was flourishing, and his willingness to spend heavily tonight to gain the favor of powerful people clearly showed he wasn''t short of money. This filled the gap left by Wood''s death and could even surpass Wood''s contributions in "offerings," a tempting prospect for the city''s elite.


    Indeed, the Old Party was somewhat like a decaying stone, obstructing the empire''s reforms. Yet, within Old Party territories, people weren''t exactly living in misery. The nobles were adept at pleasing the citizens under their rule¡ªa tradition and knowledge passed down through generations. In the past feudal era, if a noble didn''t treat his people well, they would quietly move away. To keep their lands prosperous and full of life, nobles ensured that their subjects felt "cared for."


    On a deeper level, it wasn''t local officials who affected people''s lives, but the rising capital powers. By forming monopolies, they controlled the market, completing the initial capital accumulation. Then, through "jobs and salaries," they controlled a city''s economy. They exploited the commoners mercilessly, sparking numerous social issues. A famous social critic once asked, "Why do hardworking people end up poorer the more they work?"


    This question briefly stirred social debate, but people soon returned to their heavy workloads, too burdened to consider how to answer it.


    The critic soon vanished from the public eye. Some said he went mad after raising a question he couldn''t answer; others said he''d been silenced.


    So, were capitalists friends of those in power?


    Clearly not. Those in power wanted money to circulate quickly, generating tax revenue to fund their policies. But capitalists hoarded wealth through price hikes and exploitation, stopping the flow of currency. Without circulation, tax revenue stagnated. Yet the world couldn''t function without capitalists.


    While the New Party created rules to restrain capitalists, the Old Party took a simpler approach. Since capitalists thrived by exploiting others, the Old Party decided to become the "capitalists of capitalists," implementing a hierarchical tax system to drain the capitalists'' wealth as "tribute," channeling it back into city development.


    Sometimes, simple, blunt methods were more effective than complicated rules, but they also had more severe side effects. Capitalists had to recover funds by exploiting the people even harder. This created a vicious cycle. The harder laborers worked, the poorer they became. The poorer they were, the richer the capitalists grew. The richer the capitalists grew, the more harshly the Old Party taxed them, driving them to extract even more from the people.


    To Ternell''s leaders, who enforced this blunt hierarchy of exploitation, Julian was now eligible to be "taxed," making it inevitable to invite him into this endless cycle.


    Julian didn''t think long before accepting the visitor''s request. He didn''t even know who the visitor was or whom he represented, but that didn''t stop him from accepting the Old Party''s "kindness."


    The visitor was pleased with Julian''s reaction. He raised his glass to Julian, downed his drink in one gulp, and said, "It''s been a pleasure talking with you. Tomorrow, you can go to the City Hall''s Political Group Management Office to process your membership."


    They wanted to influence and reshape the world, making certain ideas and views the standard.


    Julian nodded firmly. "Understood, I''ll be there tomorrow."


    The visitor patted Julian on the shoulder, nodded, and turned to leave. After four or five steps, he paused slightly. "Oh, and you may call me Boro."


    Mr. Boro, somewhat mysterious, had barely left when another man appeared before Julian¡ªa middle-aged man in a suit, looking every bit the professional. His thick brows and defined, square face exuded a natural trustworthiness and charisma.


    "Hello, Mr. Julian, I''m Oliver, president of Ternell City''s Workers'' Union. It''s a pleasure to meet you here." He extended his hand, and Julian, briefly surprised, reached out in return. Oliver''s hand was thick, solid, and warm. Julian felt a strange sense of security from the firm handshake.


    "Hello, Mr. Oliver. Actually, even if I hadn''t met you here, I was planning to visit you soon." Oliver withdrew his hand, listening intently, as Julian continued, "The reason isn''t complicated. To this day, I''m still a member of the Workers'' Union."


    "So, if there are any events or meetings, please notify me¡ªI''ll be sure to attend. Also¡­" Julian pulled a folded check from his pocket and placed it in Oliver''s hand. "This is my donation to the Union, in appreciation for the help and support it provided me in the past."


    Oliver glanced at the check and broke into an incredibly warm smile. The three "zeros" on the check made him more than pleased with Julian, and he promptly tucked the check into his inner pocket. "I''m delighted to have such an outstanding member in the Union. What you mentioned aligns with our purpose and value. Helping every worker in need is our mission. At the next meeting, I''ll propose to make you an honorary director of the Union. What do you think?"

 Chapter 150 - 150 Meeting Mad Dog Wesson Again

    "Of course, it would be my honor!" Just when Julian most needed support and was considering how to deepen his connections with the union, a three-thousand-dollar check resolved all his concerns.


    Money truly has limitless power¡ªanytime, anywhere!


    Oliver was thrilled; this was good news for him and for the Ternell union. Membership fees alone barely kept the union running. A single lawsuit could cost a sixth, even a quarter, of their annual funds. From the capital''s central labor union to local chapters, everyone sought ways to secure more benefits. They certainly advocated for workers'' rights but also generated value and profit for themselves.


    Fortunately, the world wasn''t short of clever thinkers. Over ten years ago, someone proposed a plan to increase union revenue. After some challenges, it was approved. This plan suggested that the union not only protect workers'' interests but also offer certain services to "capitalists" when necessary. The idea was straightforward: for any businessperson, "skilled workers" were always in high demand because they could create more profit in less time.


    The union had an extensive database of skilled workers and resources. By paying a service fee and filling out some paperwork, capitalists could get the union to assign skilled workers to new positions.


    Initially, this plan was rejected; some felt it betrayed the working class. But by the second and third rounds of debate, it was approved. It solved the union''s financial struggles and broadened the union''s real-world scope.


    Although this plan improved union funding, no one ever thought having more money was a bad thing. When Julian handed over the check, Oliver decided on the spot: if Julian might need the union''s help, why not draw him in directly?


    That talk of a future meeting was nonsense¡ªsomething he''d made up on the spot!


    And the real purpose of Oliver''s conversation with Julian tonight was to gather "donations."


    Julian became the evening''s indisputable main supporting role. Tomorrow''s newspapers wouldn''t mention Julian; they''d only focus on the charitable donations of the councilman and mayor. Julian''s name wouldn''t appear at all¡ªhe was simply a supporting role, albeit a significant one.


    If he could spend so much to win favor with those in power, why not donate a portion to the union as well?


    With this in mind, Oliver came to the event and successfully achieved his goal.


    After a brief chat, the city''s bishop, dressed in solemn attire, approached them. His black robe with a white-silver-trimmed vest made him look a few years younger than his actual forty-something age. Oliver nodded and excused himself, leaving Julian and the bishop with ample private space.


    This was routine at charity galas; if anyone made a particularly "generous" bid, representatives from various organizations, including clergy, would take turns to approach them during the reception. They might not gain anything, but there was always a chance of reaping some benefit.


    "Thank you for supporting Ternell''s charitable causes!" The bishop''s voice was slow and smooth, with a tone that was both rich and soothing. Smiling, he placed his hand on Julian''s. "May the Lord''s gaze always be upon you!"


    Julian responded with a pious reply, "God bless us all!"


    The bishop''s eyes widened. He stared at Julian for three to five seconds before asking in a slightly raised tone, "Are you one of God''s children?"


    Julian pulled a check from his pocket and slipped it into the bishop''s hand. "Not yet, but I hope to be!"


    Most of the money Julian had recently earned was now either banked or spent in tonight''s extravagance. Altogether, over twenty thousand dollars had filled others'' pockets. While this spending pained Julian, it also felt strangely satisfying. The money might be gone, but its influence far exceeded its monetary value. What he had purchased tonight would form a protective shield around him.


    Leaving the Ternell Grand Theater, Julian''s cheeks ached. Smiling all night had left his face nearly numb. He patted his face, exhaled, and exited through the main entrance, heading toward his car. As he stood by the door, reaching for his keys, he caught a faint reflection in the car window: a group of people was approaching him from behind.


    Had this been four months ago, he might have turned around to see who was behind him and ask what they wanted. But after experiencing fights and the threat of death, Julian had developed a certain level of social intuition. He didn''t turn or look back; he simply ran.


    He had a gun in the car''s glove compartment, but because of the charity gala''s high status and strict security, he hadn''t brought it inside.


    He could have unlocked the door, slipped inside, retrieved the gun, and calmly fired. But he wasn''t willing to gamble on the chance that everything would go smoothly, so he decided to leave.


    Mad Dog Wesson, who''d waited all night, nearly beat up the informant out of frustration, until he finally saw Julian, the target of this mission, and everyone seemed to "wake up."


    Four months ago, Wesson had his nose broken by Julian. A broken nose might not seem significant, but it had become a joke among his gang. Wesson was always boasting about defeating dozens, hundreds, even thousands of enemies alone, but lately, people had begun questioning his stories. This latest episode¡ªfour people bested by one small guy who then escaped¡ªmade Wesson a laughingstock.


    Just this morning, someone had asked him how many thousands he''d defeated the previous night.


    The source of his humiliation was this guy. So when the car washer told him he''d seen Julian, Wesson immediately gathered his closest allies to corner him. Gritting his teeth, brandishing his club, he chased after Julian, ignoring the fact that he''d just exited the theater¡ªhis mind was filled only with revenge.


    Running with all his might, Julian mentally thanked Mr. Kesma. The heavy labor he''d been forced to do had given him a strong body, ensuring he wouldn''t be easily caught.


    The city by day was governed by law, but under the cover of night, it became a criminal''s paradise.


    Along the way, Julian encountered two groups of patrol officers. Yet, from the way they avoided his gaze and withdrew, Julian knew that seeking help would be futile. As he ran, he stripped off his expensive overcoat, his costly suit, and even his high-priced shoes. Mad Dog Wesson and his gang slowed down while Julian maintained his pace.


    Were it not for his strong urge to vent his anger, Wesson might have stopped long ago. But now, he was still chasing, up until a street corner. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Turning the corner, Wesson, panting like a broken bellows, held onto the wall, glaring at the empty street with veins bulging on his forehead. After all this, he''d lost his target again, fueling his rage. He smashed the glass of a nearby security window with his club. As he turned around, Julian reappeared in his line of sight.


    "You¡­ still dare to show up?" Mad Dog Wesson took two deep breaths, trying to steady his heaving chest. Pointing his club at Julian, he screamed, "Get him!"


    He thought this would sound intimidating. The dozen or so gang members who had chased Julian were also hot and agitated, immediately charging forward with their weapons. But they soon noticed two figures beside Julian.


    Wesson, leaning against the wall, sneered and said, "Don''t think having two guys will save you. You''re only dooming your friends!"


    Apart from those who''d fallen behind, there were still around thirteen or fourteen gang members. Defeating three young men would be no problem. The tales of one-versus-many battles were only supposed to happen to him, or in legends, and he believed they''d all come here to meet their fate.


    Julian stood still, unmoved. As the gang members charged forward, a contemptuous smile spread across his face. The more he smiled, the angrier Wesson felt. Graf, who''d left earlier, would have understood Julian''s smirk better than anyone. Julian tilted his chin up slightly, looking past the gangsters toward Wesson, and said, "Keep him alive. Deal with the rest."


    At that moment, the two men standing beside Julian stepped out of the shadows into the lamplight. They wore caps with the brims pulled low, casting shadows over their faces. The wind rustled their long coats in the empty street. Reaching into their coats, they drew pistols and, under the shocked gazes of the gang members, raised their guns.

 Chapter 151 - 151 The Ungrateful Car Washer

    Facing firearms is not something everyone has the courage to do while wielding only cold weapons. Without unwavering faith or a spirit of self-sacrifice, the fear of death becomes amplified infinitely. Over a dozen gang members dressed in eccentric attire seemed to have hit the pause button; they didn''t dare make any large movements, fearing that even the slightest action might be misunderstood and end their lives with a single bullet.


    Mad Dog Wesson also halted in his tracks, feeling his heart pound wildly with unprecedented speed and intensity. Even when he''d faced tens of thousands of enemies alone, he hadn''t been this panicked!


    Alright, he lied. His greatest feat had been taking on two opponents at once before getting thoroughly beaten, but he had a knack for exaggerating his abilities and outcomes. This often led others to believe he was a fierce warrior.


    At this moment, only one thought filled Wesson''s mind: compared to himself, the "Mad Dog," those three guys across from him were the real mad dogs, weren''t they? Although this wasn''t exactly the city center, it was close enough! Firing guns here would carry a completely different implication than doing so in the suburbs or countryside. They wouldn''t open fire, would they? Surely not. They must just be bluffing to scare him!


    He kept trying to pump himself up, fighting to control his trembling legs, and clenched his sphincter tightly to prevent his surging urge to urinate from staining his favorite pants.


    One drop.


    Wesson swore, just one drop escaped uncontrollably. Just as he prepared to say something to save face, his face suddenly felt hot, and the guy directly in front of him jerked his head back, falling backward with a loud thud. The dull sound of him hitting the ground felt like a hand piercing through Wesson''s chest, gripping his heart.


    A brief neural disruption made Wesson lose control of his sphincter, and he not only wet himself but felt an even stronger urge to relieve himself bubbling up.


    He wiped his face with his hand, feeling the warm, sticky moisture tinged with a faint metallic smell; the vivid red under the dim streetlight was especially jarring.


    Bang!


    The two men beside Julian advanced in turn, their raised arms steady. Each gunshot took down a gang member before they could react. When they could finally see Wesson, Wesson could see them too¡ªall the people who had been standing between them had already fallen.


    The air was heavy, almost like concrete. A door on the side of the street slowly opened, and Wesson, barely able to stand as he clutched the wall, felt a surge of hope explode within him.


    There was salvation! A witness! These mad dogs wouldn''t kill him too, would they?


    However, in the next moment, he stared, dumbfounded, as a young man emerged from the doorway, dragging the bodies on the road inside with swift efficiency. In less than two minutes, not a single one of his comrades was left. Soon, some girls came out with buckets, rinsing the blood off the ground and scrubbing it down the drain.


    No longer able to control himself, Wesson collapsed to the ground. In his terror, he didn''t even notice that he was sitting in something warm.


    Julian walked up to Wesson. He looked a bit disheveled; his trench coat was long gone, his shirt buttons ripped open, and he''d lost his shoes, leaving him barefoot. The only thing still intact was his pants.


    Standing above Wesson, Julian looked down, rolling his eyes downward to observe Wesson with the corner of his vision.


    "Do we have some kind of irreconcilable grudge?" Julian asked calmly, "To the extent that you''d bring so many people¡­ to hunt me down?"


    The sound of chattering teeth was especially clear in the stillness of the midnight. Wesson''s teeth clacked as he shook his head, forcing a smile uglier than crying, "N-no! Let me explain. There''s no unresolved hatred between us; I just wanted¡­ just wanted¡­" His eyes darted around quickly, like a man on the verge of a breakdown. "I just deeply admire a person of your stature and wanted to pay my respects!"


    His timid tone carried a desperate hope, convinced that his explanation was flawless.


    Julian tilted his head slightly, thinking it over, his hands releasing his right wrist, which he''d been holding. He raised his right hand, and the young man beside him placed a handgun in it.


    "What''s your name?" Julian asked.


    "Wesson! My name is Wesson, sir!"


    A faint smile appeared on Julian''s face. Wesson immediately felt warmth and blinding light in that smile. Surely he''d be safe now, right? Otherwise, why would he be smiling at him? A smile is a symbol of kindness, isn''t it? Wesson grinned foolishly, humbly bowing down from his seated position to kneeling, showing his submission.


    Julian asked with a smile, "I remember not seeing you nearby when I entered the Grand Theater. Can you tell me how you managed to find me?" S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This was a crucial question. If he could be located anytime, anywhere, it indicated two possibilities. The first was that he had become a public figure, so whenever he appeared, he''d be noticed. However, based on his current actions, he hadn''t reached that level, so it was unlikely. The second possibility was that someone was tracking him without his knowledge, which was even more infuriating. No one likes being watched, so he wanted to clarify how this guy had found him.


    Julian''s memory wasn''t bad; he remembered exactly who this guy was but remained silent.


    Wesson disclosed every bit of information about the car washer to Julian. He harbored deep resentment for the car washer; if not for him, Wesson wouldn''t have experienced such misfortune tonight. If he made it out alive¡ªno, he was sure he would¡ªhe''d make sure that guy suffered tomorrow!


    Satisfied with the information he''d gathered, Julian nodded with a smile at the kneeling Wesson. "I think I understand. Well then, good night, Mr. Wesson!"


    The sudden farewell left Wesson momentarily confused, but he nodded repeatedly, offering goodnight wishes and blessings in hopes of ending this dreadful encounter as soon as possible.


    Under the dusky streetlight, beside the road, one man knelt, and the other stood. The light seemed to shun them, casting shadows devoid of brightness amidst the illuminated street.


    The standing figure raised his arm, gripping a gun, and pulled the trigger amidst the kneeling man''s pleas.


    The compressed heat from the firing pin pushed the hollow bullet out of the chamber, spinning at high speed along a nearly straight trajectory. It pierced through a thin layer of skin, some fat, a small amount of muscle, and bit into bone.


    People say the skull is hard, but sometimes it''s not as resilient. A crack began spreading from the point of impact between the bullet and the skull. The bullet, still spinning forward, deformed upon encountering the bone. In the next second, the skull yielded, splitting completely¡­


    Julian handed the gun back to the man beside him, glanced at Wesson''s corpse, with blood fanning out behind him, and shook his head as he turned away.


    "Find that car washer. If he''s a Provian or Ordinian, send him to meet the River God. If he''s a Guar, let him face the trial of the Old King."


    Wesson''s body twitched as a young man grabbed his leg, dragging him into the store. The practiced girls cleaned up the blood on the ground in no time, as if nothing had happened.


    On the other side of the city, the car washer, hugging a bottle of fruit wine, returned home cheerfully. He often had a drink, only a single cup, as his income couldn''t afford indulgence. But tonight was different; he''d paid a cheap, skilled woman a dollar and even bought home a half-full bottle of fruit wine, an extravagance he''d never imagined before. He pushed open the door, taking off his clothes in the dim light and tossing them onto the worn sofa, placing the wine on the table.


    He hummed a tune his mother taught him, basking in the joy of today''s "earnings."


    "You''re back? You''re a bit late today. Shall I warm up your food?" His wife emerged from the bedroom, adding a sense of warmth and a bit of crowding to the small living room.


    Perhaps under the influence of the alcohol, the car washer breathed heavily at the sight of his wife in her nightgown. Like a predator, he pounced, pressing her against the table.


    For a man, money and power are undeniable aphrodisiacs, and five dollars was enough.


    Early the next morning, still not fully awake, the car washer looked at his wife, frowning as he rubbed his head and sat up. He glanced at her again, feeling like he''d done something foolish. Shaking his head, he prepared for work. Just as he opened the door, barely awake, he only glimpsed two half-grown kids before a sharp pain hit his head, and he lost consciousness.

 Chapter 152 - 152 Tax Reforms

    "Mayor, I must say, your accounting is exceptionally well-done!" The investigator from the State Tax Bureau closed the ledger in his hands and removed his glasses, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Piled beside him were stacks of ledgers, all of which he had already reviewed. He''d spent three days skimming through every ledger, and he had to admit, the tax records in Ternell City were "crafted" to near perfection¡ªa seasoned hand had done the work.


    Opening any ledger, one would find only small sums of a few cents or at most a few dollars. Occasionally, there were one or two larger tax entries, which would ultimately be proven as "marginal profit" or "charitable contributions." Under the Empire''s tax system, neither of these categories incurs any tax.


    "Marginal profit" refers to low-profit trades within the Empire''s prescribed commercial activities, mostly essential goods like wheat or beef. The government has set standardized wholesale and retail prices, unaffected by market fluctuations. Coupled with the existence of "grain protection zones" and "livestock protection zones," the Empire exempts these low-profit trades from taxation.


    Charitable tax exemptions are equally straightforward. The recent charity gala raised over forty thousand dollars in donations, intended directly for impoverished citizens needing aid. However, to prevent corruption and embezzlement, the Empire mandates that all charitable funds be distributed as supplies rather than cash to the recipients.


    For instance, donations might be used to purchase food, clothing, or various essentials, which are then distributed. This minimizes the greed that large sums of money could incite and prevents gangs or organizations from reclaiming the funds from impoverished citizens. Supplies purchased with charitable funds are for charitable purposes, thus also exempt from taxes.


    This may explain why, in Old Party-controlled areas, there is nearly monthly charitable giving. They use this method to legally and reasonably conceal tax issues.


    The mayor sitting nearby chuckled, though it was unclear if he agreed with the investigator''s assessment or dismissed it.


    The investigator shook his head, chuckling. He took a handkerchief from his pocket to clean his glasses, carefully placing them back in his pocket before looking at Peter. "Mayor, in this world, nothing is foolproof or perfect. As a state tax official, I''ve examined more ledgers than Ternell City has had in a hundred years. Find one error, and the entire accounting will collapse naturally."


    He returned the ledger to the table, took a sip of his now-cold coffee. "Perhaps you''re unaware, but during the upcoming midterm election, a new law will be announced. The tax reform proposal has passed the Imperial Parliament and is about to take effect across the Empire."


    "The more realistic your forgeries, the harder the fall will be."


    Peter''s eyebrow twitched; he genuinely hadn''t known the tax reform had already passed. He''d heard there was a plan to switch from voluntary reporting to mandatory reporting. Currently, stores record the price, type, and other information for each item sold, then submit this ledger to the tax office at the end of the month. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The tax office reviews every entry and calculates a total tax amount, which they then collect in the first week of the following month.


    At its core, the current tax collection method relies entirely on merchants'' honesty. But are merchants truly that conscientious?


    Impossible!


    Many merchants record only a fraction of their sales, reducing their tax burden. Take, for example, a bakery in town. They sell between twenty to thirty dollars of bread daily, sometimes more, but their ledger only reports two or three dollars in sales. With business tax thresholds in place, they owe just five cents in tax daily, or ten cents on a high day.


    In a month, that''s only three dollars!


    But after the reform, everything will change. Simply put, it will be a semi-compulsory tax. Taxation for each business will be based on its operational nature and the number of employees. For example, take that same bakery and classify it as "food processing and retail," setting a tax standard of three dollars.


    For every employee the bakery hires, the monthly tax increases by three dollars. If the bakery employs seven people, including the owner, it would owe twenty-four dollars in tax each month. The tax office wouldn''t care about how much bread it sells or profits it makes; that''s the tax. If the business isn''t profitable, the owner could simply hire fewer employees, perhaps just two bakers and the owner, reducing the monthly tax to nine dollars.


    Each business must strictly register its employee count and business type, with no room for error. These records will be kept by the tax office for future inspections.


    Of course, issues may arise. For instance, if an owner only hires two bakers but has family members like his wife or children helping with sales, he would only report nine dollars in tax each month. While permissible, the tax office will conduct random inspections. If caught engaging in such practices, the owner will owe thirty dollars per person per month as back taxes, covering up to one year.


    A penalty of 120 times could bankrupt some small and medium businesses with just one offense.


    But that''s the law; when the law''s purpose is to protect its own interests, there''s no room for leniency.


    Some in the Imperial Parliament pointed out the severe problems with such a heavy-handed tax approach, noting that small struggling businesses might go bankrupt. But to the bigwigs, a few small businesses failing means nothing compared to the Empire''s treasury.


    Peter said nothing, only maintaining a smile, though his gaze hinted at disdain. Perhaps the New Party could only devise such blunt measures to raise national revenue, highlighting their lack of governance skills. Even if Ternell City''s tax revenue increased, it wouldn''t affect him¡ªit would be the local tax officials'' fault and the fault of those deceitful merchants.


    Standing up, he sighed, "Well, I''ll let you continue your work. I hope you find the ''key error'' you mentioned soon. I wish you success in advance. I have other matters to attend to. Goodbye!" He stepped forward, shook hands with the investigator, nodded, and turned to leave with his coat and hat. He wasn''t worried about the ledgers. Every year, he spent a fortune hiring top professionals to handle this¡ªwhy else would he invest in them?


    Once outside, the mayor''s expression darkened, no longer as carefree as he had seemed inside. The local tax official followed closely behind him. "Keep a close watch on him. Inform me immediately if anything happens. And if things get too serious¡­" He paused, glancing back at the tax official, his cold stare making the official shudder.


    The official gritted his teeth and nodded. Only then did the mayor pat him on the shoulder and get into his car.


    If that investigator truly found any loopholes, they''d have to silence him.


    The Old Party had done such things more than once. Every year, vast sums of tax money, after being concealed, were siphoned off to the higher-ups. If an issue arose, many officials could lose their positions. Peter had no choice but to be cautious and ruthless.


    Once seated in the car, he closed his eyes, finally asking after a while, "Have they found that man, Jon?"


    The driver replied while driving, "Not yet, but they''re close. Some people are already watching near the police station. They''re just waiting for someone to make the first move."


    Satisfied, Peter fell silent. He knew that no one could resist the lure of a bounty. So far, no one had come forward to identify "Jon," not out of loyalty but from fear of retaliation. This also told Peter one thing¡ª"Jon" had someone behind him, someone with enough influence to intimidate those in the know.


    ...


    "You''re saying he''s a half-blood?"


    Julian looked at Dave in surprise. The car wash worker was of mixed heritage, born to a Provian father and a Guar mother. In this society, women held low status, and in families like these, Guar customs were suppressed to the extreme. The car wash worker likely had no idea how his actions would be judged.


    Dave shrugged. There was no consensus on whether half-bloods deserved the judgment of the gods or the First King, so ultimately, the choice fell to Julian once more.

 Chapter 153 - 153 Resurfacing Of The Guar Crucifixion

    The car wash worker shook his head, feeling as if his skull was about to burst! He vaguely remembered what had happened before he lost consciousness. He''d been dressed and ready for work when, just as he opened his door, two young men struck him on the head with a club, hitting just above his ear. Then came endless darkness, a void that seemed to compress time. When he opened his eyes again, he was here.


    It was a room with chipped tiles embedded in the walls, the temperature low enough for him to feel a chill. His clothes had been stripped, and he was bound to a table. He struggled, but whoever had tied him up had done a thorough job; the ropes on his limbs didn''t budge. He gritted his teeth and yelled, calling out for a while, but no one came.


    Perhaps because he was now fully conscious, he felt colder, his body trembling and his skin prickling with goosebumps.


    "Damn it, who''s messing with me? My boss is Mad Dog Wesson¡ªyou''ll pay for this!"


    "All right, I was wrong! I realize how foolish I was. Please, just give me something to wear, or at least a blanket!"


    ¡­


    No matter what he said, no one came to disturb the room''s solitude. Just as the car wash worker was about to succumb to despair, fearing he''d freeze to death, he heard the sound of metal scraping¡ªa door opening¡ªand several footsteps approaching. His spirits lifted, and he licked his chapped lips, weakly calling out, "Damn it, help me out here! I''ll do anything, just don''t leave me alone here, okay?"


    He turned his head toward the source of the sound and saw several young men in rubber suits stepping into the room¡ªthe kind of rubber suits favored by butchers, where blood and animal fluids could be easily washed off with a bucket of water.


    Five young men, to be exact. The one leading looked somewhat simple-minded. He approached the table, eyeing the car wash worker, who was too tightly bound to even struggle. "Your mother''s a Guar, isn''t she?"


    People often say that, in life-or-death situations, humans can tap into unimaginable strength. In moments like this, sometimes another phenomenon occurs: heightened mental clarity. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The car wash worker''s mind clicked, realizing these men were Guars. He nodded vigorously, trying to appear as honest and sincere as possible. "Yes, you''re right. My mother''s Guar, so that makes me Guar too."


    The young man continued, "Didn''t your mother ever tell you what happens to Guars who betray their own?"


    The car wash worker looked blank for a moment, then quickly stammered, "I haven''t betrayed anyone! I swear, I''m just a car wash guy¡ªa nobody! Even if I wanted to betray someone, I wouldn''t even know any big shots to betray!"


    "Exactly!" The young man nodded, stepping back. "You should''ve listened to your mother more. In Guar tradition, traitors must face divine punishment. Since you admit you''re Guar, you''ll face the consequences we all must accept. Let the gods and the ancestral kings judge whether you''re guilty or innocent!" He fell silent, and the other four surrounded the car wash worker.


    One of them stuffed a cloth into his mouth, and a salty taste spread instantly in his mouth, tinged with a stench he found strangely familiar.


    A second later, before his mind could process the sensation, a searing pain ripped through his mind, shattering his defenses.


    They were skinning him alive!


    "Damn it, stop¡­ please, there must be some mistake!" he cursed and pleaded, but the young men seemed oblivious. Their knives gleamed silver and were razor-sharp; he could see his skin peeling away from the fat membrane bit by bit. Oddly, there wasn''t much blood. He prayed to survive but also wished to slip away quickly to God''s embrace.


    In endless terror, he passed out.


    When he awoke, he was strung up near his home, hanging from a statue of a general in a nearby park.


    In less than an hour, as dawn began to break, morning joggers arrived at the park¡ªa popular spot for early exercise. A piercing scream shattered the morning silence, and police soon swarmed the scene.


    Looking at the skinned, barely-breathing, unrecognizable figure dangling from the statue, Pronto''s veins bulged on his forehead. He took only a few glances before turning away, the sight disgusting him so much that even his veteran instincts made him want to vomit. He waved over two young officers, who looked equally sickened. "Get him down and rush him to the hospital. If he makes it, ask if he remembers who did this."


    "What if¡­ he doesn''t make it?" one young officer asked hesitantly.


    Experience, or perhaps just desensitization, separated Pronto''s response. He rolled his eyes. "If he doesn''t make it, do you plan to bring a corpse back to the station? Idiot! Of course, we hand him over to the hospital¡ªthey''ll turn him into a popsicle and then burn him!"


    After giving instructions, Pronto left the scene, got into his car, and sat in silence for a moment before instructing his driver, "Take me to the Eastern Star, down that damned Queen''s Avenue!"


    There was no doubt in his mind that Julian was behind this. Before Julian''s rise, no one would use such brutal punishment on Guars. Only after his ascendance had this sort of punishment resurfaced in the city. Whatever this guy''s betrayal entailed, it undoubtedly involved Julian.


    Honestly, Pronto didn''t want to be involved in such messy affairs. He knew that even if he discovered Julian was behind it, he wouldn''t be able to lock him up. Julian''s influence stretched across the Eastern Star, his club, and even the streets, with plenty of people willing to take the fall for him. Within Ternell''s Guar community, Julian''s authority had surged rapidly, even surpassing Heidler''s.


    People trusted Julian, and he repaid that trust by lifting many Guar families out of poverty, giving them clothes to wear, food to eat, and a decent life. To the true elites of the city, this "decency" might be no more than the desperate cries of the impoverished, but Julian had achieved it¡ªhe had changed their lives, and they trusted him.


    Pronto''s police car soon parked outside the Eastern Star. From the second floor, Julian watched him step out of the vehicle, shrugged, and turned to Dave with a smile. "Trouble has arrived."


    Yes, trouble had indeed arrived.


    Pronto entered with a scowl, taking a seat across from Julian. A table separated them, like a chasm between worlds.


    "You shouldn''t be so brazen¡ªnot at a time like this!" Pronto began, complaining right off the bat. "I''ve already managed to cover for you the last couple of times, but if you keep stirring up trouble, there will come a day when I can''t help you anymore."


    Julian leisurely retrieved a box of cigarettes from the drawer, tossing one over. Dave promptly pulled out a lighter, leaning toward Pronto to offer a light. Pronto gave Dave a sidelong glance, then stared at Julian for a moment before lighting his cigarette.


    "Listen to me," Pronto continued. "If you want to play vigilante, do it outside the city. Out there, no one will care, but in the city, it''s different¡ªI don''t want this to blow up." He exhaled a puff of smoke, initially intending to use harsher words to admonish Julian, but something inexplicably made him soften his tone. He wasn''t sure why, but he felt he should.

 Chapter 154 - 154 Julians grand plan

    Pronto''s warning wasn''t wrong; such extreme tactics would eventually attract attention, and he believed that those in power were already aware. They might tolerate it a couple of times, but if it happened too often, someone would voice an objection. Yet, Julian and Pronto both knew that Julian was now practically part of the Old Party. He had left a strong impression on the council and the mayor. Even if he overstepped a little, during this "honeymoon period," the authorities wouldn''t hold it against him¡ªas long as he delivered enough tribute.


    Julian nodded. "Understood. I''ll be careful."


    This surprised Pronto even more. Since when was this little devil Julian so compliant? He couldn''t tell what Julian was planning, so he chose silence, knowing it would at least keep him out of any traps Julian might lay.


    "See, people are strange creatures. They know their actions will lead to trouble, but when profit''s at stake, they''ll always make the worst choice."


    "Don''t worry," Julian assured him. "I won''t make things hard for you. Someone will turn themselves in for this, and no one will get in trouble¡ªtrust me."


    The short conversation did little to ease Pronto''s concern. He still felt Julian was orchestrating something, and this was only a piece of a larger scheme.


    "What are you thinking?" Dave asked after Pronto had left. "I just don''t see the point in doing all this. Maybe it''s just me being dumb, but I can''t figure out the reason."


    Julian pointed at Dave with a mock gesture of agreement. The truth was, Dave really didn''t understand. They already had a mountain of problems, and they should be lying low, yet Julian''s actions lately had been nothing short of flashy.


    If Mad Dog Wesson had brought his fate upon himself, Julian''s hand was forced. In a city like this, the disappearance of one or two people wasn''t much of a scandal. Every day, someone seemed to vanish through some "accident" or "epiphany," prompting them to leave everything behind. But for a dozen connected people to disappear all at once¡ªthat was bound to attract attention.


    Even if it was for Julian''s safety, Dave could understand, but the car wash worker? That man was no threat to Julian. Sure, he had done something he shouldn''t have, but skinning him and hanging him in a public park? It was bound to attract attention. People knew that the Guars still practiced skinning as punishment, and doing so openly was like placing himself in danger. If anyone connected the car wash worker''s fate to Pronto''s bounty, it was as good as Julian declaring, "Jon is one of us, so keep quiet." It was reckless and na?ve.


    Julian didn''t bother to explain his actions to Dave. Some things didn''t need explanation if understood intuitively. And if someone couldn''t grasp them, then no amount of explaining would help.


    Yes, the situation was indeed tense, but that didn''t mean they should do nothing. On the contrary, Julian believed that the tenser the situation, the murkier the waters should be. The car wash worker was finished, and people would see this as a Guar act. Those in the streets without legitimate jobs would think Julian was responsible. In their world, Guar meant Julian¡ªhe was the most notorious, the natural representative of the Guars.


    But what about high society? From their lofty perspective, they moved in circles far removed from the lower classes. To them, Guar didn''t mean Julian but Heidler. They would think Heidler was the true representative of the Guars in the city, fitting their profile of an underground manipulator.


    Wealth, status, and, most importantly, being a Guar.


    This brutal punishment would lead high society''s gaze to Heidler, while the lower class would be cowed into temporary silence by the car wash worker''s fate. Few knew he was only half-Guar, so they''d wonder if Julian had begun extending Guar punishments to other ethnicities.


    With this buffer period, Lady Vivian would have the freedom to act, breaking the deadlock.


    As for sending people to turn themselves in¡ªthere was a reason for that, too. Strictly speaking, Ternell City could be divided into two realms: the "free" and the "unfree."


    The free were, of course, the city dwellers, while the unfree were those within prison walls.


    In a world where money could buy anything (as shown by Kevin''s success in defending a sleazy teacher in an assault case), no one could guarantee they''d stay out of prison forever. Sometimes, even a trivial matter could land an innocent person in jail.


    In Julian''s grand plan, the prison would play a key role, so he needed to send people in advance to establish a stable force there, someone to help manage things on the inside.


    Dave shrugged, accepting Julian''s decision without further explanation. He knew Julian had his reasons, and that was enough. "You''re the boss. Whatever you say goes!"


    Julian nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. "Exactly. I make the rules!" S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In a private estate, doctors suggested an unusual method to sustain the former governor after other treatments had failed. Human milk, rich in various hormones and nutrients needed for growth, was recommended as his primary diet. It provided essential sustenance but left him with a constant, gnawing hunger. Ten young mothers were on standby at the estate, always ready to answer the governor''s call.


    The former governor sighed in satisfaction. If these young women weren''t so pleasant to look at, he wouldn''t have chosen such a "shameful" source for his nutrition. The only part that unsettled him was being observed while he ate.


    To prevent the former governor¡ªwhose body had largely lost sensation¡ªfrom suddenly slipping away, round-the-clock watch was established with his approval. Doctors, a lawyer, and a "fixer" to handle unsavory tasks watched over him, along with attorneys and guardians sent by his children. Nearly every minute, someone''s eyes were on him.


    His term may not have been long, but he had wielded enough influence to shift policies across parts of the state, commanding a vast network and immense wealth. Though his wealth and power were substantial, his connections mattered most¡ªsomething everyone valued.


    "Governor, a letter has arrived from Ternell. It''s from your daughter, Lady Vivian." With assistance, the governor sat up, a young girl using a warm towel to clean his body, part of his daily post-lunch routine. Afterward, each muscle was massaged to prevent atrophy and bedsores.


    "Vivian?" The former governor pondered for a moment, then nodded. Everyone unrelated to the matter left the room, leaving him with his trusted butler at his bedside. "Read it. Let''s hear what she has to say."

 Chapter 155 - 155 The Feminist Movement

    "Dear Father,


    I''m pregnant, and as you wished, it''s not Peter''s child. Though I know you arranged that despicable man, I''ve never resented you for it. I understand your reasoning; the Kedor family shouldn''t have any lowly offspring in this world. But unfortunately, while you managed to control some things, you missed others. As I said at the beginning of this letter, I am pregnant.


    This child carries the blood of the great Kedor family, but also the blood of the lowly Guar. In your words, he would be considered a half-breed mongrel. You may control my life and my husband, but you cannot control me or my soul.


    My soul is pure; I have always believed this, and that''s what you and others have always envied.


    I didn''t write this letter to prove my purity, only to tell you that your daughter, Vivian, has finally set foot on the path you wished for me.


    I''ve heard that in the eastern regions of the Empire, women have started to rise. They call themselves ''fighters for women''s rights,'' and people are calling them feminists. The New Party hypocrites have made public statements supporting them. I may not become a great politician, but I can be a distinguished woman of this era. I''m planning to respond to the voices from the Empire''s core by launching a women''s rights movement here in Ternell, and in the state of Kanros.


    I''m merely informing you¡ªI''m not seeking your permission. I understand that a politician like you values status and power far more than any feelings for your children.


    Of course, as your daughter, I hope you''ll bless me and my cause.


    It took me half a lifetime to realize this: not fighting doesn''t make people think you''re humble; they''ll only think you''re weak and incompetent.


    May you live long enough.


    May your illegitimate children continue to bother you.


    And may you regain your health soon.


    Love,


    Your Daughter,


    Vivian."


    The butler set down the letter with a slight unease, standing quietly at the side. The letter''s content was indeed extreme¡ªa poison pill for the governor, who was nearly paralyzed. The doctor had warned that anger would exacerbate his condition, potentially raising his blood pressure and worsening his illness. Yet Vivian''s letter was filled with nothing but infuriating words.


    As the butler braced himself for the governor''s outburst, waiting for him to unleash his rage verbally since his body could no longer do so, he was taken aback by the sound of¡­ laughter? sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Was this a bitter laugh of hatred and fury? Or was he genuinely amused?


    The butler cautiously looked up, catching just a glimpse of the governor''s relaxed face, his skin showing a healthy pink flush, and his eyes gleaming with an unusual clarity. He was genuinely laughing!


    The governor tilted his head slightly. "Leave me alone for a moment."


    The butler quickly exited, pausing at the door. "I''ll knock and come in after five minutes."


    This was a routine dictated by both the doctor and the governor himself. He was never to be left unsupervised for more than five minutes¡ªhis paralyzed body was still dear to him, and he wasn''t ready to embrace the afterlife.


    Once the door closed, leaving him alone, the governor chuckled openly. It had been years since he''d laughed so freely¡ªnearly a liberated, joyful laugh.


    Every family hoped for a boy to carry on the family name, and once they had a son, they often wished for a daughter as well. Vivian was born from such expectations, and she was the governor''s favorite child. His illegitimate children could never compare. Though he had wanted her to marry into a noble family of high standing, he eventually agreed to her request to marry Peter.


    It showed how much the governor adored Vivian, enough to sacrifice even politically advantageous marriages for her happiness.


    Though he''d done things that perhaps didn''t bring her joy¡ªsuch as having one of Peter''s testicles damaged and surgically cutting the reproductive organ that made him fertile¡ªit was his way of "protecting" Vivian, rather than the motive she assumed, that of avoiding a lowly descendant. With his wisdom, he''d long seen through Peter''s ambitions toward Vivian.


    So, he had "protected" her in this way, believing that one day she would understand¡ªand indeed, that day had come.


    As for the origins of the "half-breed mongrel" Vivian was carrying, he didn''t much care. The higher one stood, the more one saw, and he understood that the battle between the Old Party and the New Party was already tilting toward a predictable end. The Old Party clung to a rigid "purity," allowing only old imperial nobility into its inner circle. The New Party, on the other hand, quietly practiced a policy of "elite exclusivity" but cast a much wider net. Background and past were irrelevant¡ªwhat mattered was that they were acknowledged elites of the day.


    Tradition should preserve values, not restrictive prejudices.


    The Old Party''s current standing, on par with the New Party, wasn''t due to its strength but to the resources accumulated over centuries, resources they were gradually depleting. When that reserve ran dry, the New Party would gain full dominance.


    The governor understood that the world''s future belonged to the New Party, which valued talent over bloodline, not the Old Party.


    But despite foreseeing this future, he couldn''t change his stance¡ªit was too late, and he was too bound to his position.


    However, he hoped that his lineage would produce someone who could adapt to the new era. Call it a second basket for his eggs, or a hedge on the future and on the New Party''s rise.


    He noticed that Vivian had mentioned a feminist movement in her letter. It amused him, thinking how isolated Kanros must be that she hadn''t realized who was behind this movement.


    Indeed, she hadn''t realized.


    The feminist movement''s initiator was none other than the granddaughter of one of the Old Party''s Five Titans, with participants including many women from noble families. Working-class women rarely had the time, money, or influence to engage in such idealistic pursuits¡ªthey were too busy earning a living or raising children.


    In simple terms, the feminist movement was a tentative collaboration between enlightened members of the Old Party and the New Party, an attempt to explore new paths together. It was time, and these women had risen to lead it.


    The governor felt pleased. The Kedor family finally had a wise one, even if her "wisdom" stemmed from anger at her past life, her present situation, and her uncertain future. At the very least, she was on the right track!


    A knock pulled the governor from his thoughts. "Come in," he called, and the butler entered, closing the door quietly.


    "Bring me some paper and a pen. I want to write a letter to Peter."


    The butler promptly retrieved the paper, standing ready at the desk and quickly recording the governor''s dictation. When the letter was complete, he read it aloud, letting the governor review it before sealing it with wax and a stamp.


    Later that evening, the letter was handed to the estate''s liaison, who, with a driver, delivered it across two cities, arriving in Ternell by midday the next day and landing in Peter''s hands.


    Peter examined the seal on the wax stamp with a grave expression, then carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.


    His father-in-law rarely contacted him directly; in truth, Peter knew it was because the governor looked down on him. The last time he''d received a direct letter was when he was elected mayor of Ternell. He had no idea what this letter contained or what it would mean for him, but he despised the feeling¡ªthis sense of helplessly dancing to fate''s tune.


    He unfolded the letter, its edges gilded and faintly scented. The next second, he overturned the table in a fit of rage. Teacups, pastries, condiments, and spices scattered across the costly carpet, leaving a mess. His facial muscles twitched uncontrollably, his fury barely contained.


    "Didn''t you say no one had contacted her?" he snapped, crumpling the letter and throwing it at his butler, who stood quietly to the side. The paper struck the butler''s chiseled face and fell to the floor.


    The butler stooped, picking up the letter and smoothing it out. The first line read, "Congratulations, you''re going to be a father!"


    There was no doubt now¡ªthe governor knew about Lady Vivian''s pregnancy. Whatever happened next was out of Peter''s control. He had lost all authority over this situation.


    And that, more than anything, was something he could not tolerate.