《Empire of Shadows》 Chapter 1: The Summer Breeze Chapter 1: The Summer BreezeJingang City, also known as the "City of Angels." The world''s third-largest port and the top in daily throughput in the Northern Hemisphere, this city has earned countless praises! It¡¯s like a blessing sent from above, basking in divine glory, everything seemingly perfect¡­ Yeah, right. While the Federation¡¯s citizens like to call it the City of Angels, to others, this place looks no different from hell. Take Lance, for example. That¡¯s exactly how he feels right now. The City of Angels is dangerous. Almost every day, there are several, if not dozens, of shootings in this city. When gang wars break out, sometimes they need trucks just to carry away the bodies. With the rapid economic growth, the city has also attracted an influx of criminals and crime syndicates. Corrupt officials, bought by money and bribes, look down on the city from above. They only care about how much their bank accounts increase each month¡ªnot whether the people at the bottom starve or get into trouble. All anyone seems to care about is the city''s non-stop economic miracles. Few care to know who is struggling for survival behind the glamorous facade. They don¡¯t want to know, and they won¡¯t let anyone else find out. After all, this is the City of Angels, the economic engine of the Federation! Lance looked absentmindedly at the girls on the street, feeling momentarily lost. It was like an old-time warmth drifted through, covering everything in a natural, vintage filter. The whole world seemed to have taken on a sepia tone, with spots here and there where overexposure had left blemishes. The scratchy sound from an old record player came through a speaker, adding to the nostalgic atmosphere. The summer sunlight warmed the city¡ªand ignited the hearts of its young women. Two young girls in sleeveless tops and short skirts walked past a bakery, their lively, joyful smiles momentarily brightening this old, photograph-like city. ¡°Smack!¡± A sharp slap brought Lance back to reality. The bakery owner was standing behind him, glaring angrily. ¡°I hired you to work, not to lean on the counter gawking at girls!¡± The slap was loud and forceful. ¡°Get moving, get moving, you lazy maggot who¡¯s practically rotting. Don¡¯t let me catch you slacking off again¡ªI¡¯m paying you, damn it!¡± ????£Â?? Lance scratched his head and picked up a rag to start wiping the display window. Business was slow today. Bakeries like this, away from bustling streets and the city center, were like the mom-and-pop dumpling shops in other neighborhoods. Their business relied mainly on regulars from nearby apartments, with the busiest times before 9:30 in the morning and after work in the evening. During other hours, hardly anyone came in. The bakery owner was the typical small-time capitalist, pressing down on himself while exploiting his workers¡ªand trying to control them, too. Besides Lance, there was an apprentice in the bakery who didn¡¯t get paid a penny each month and even had to pay the owner ten bucks as a ¡°tuition fee¡± to learn the trade. The apprentice had been there for over six months and, so far, all he¡¯d learned was kneading dough. The bakery owner was obese, likely weighing around 230 to 240 pounds, and was a highly skilled baker. The local residents were loyal customers, especially fond of the bakery¡¯s main product¡ªa dense whole-wheat bread that filled them up for longer and kept hunger at bay. Lance had caught him sneakily adding extra bran into the bread to make it drier, harder, denser¡ªand more popular among the poor. For those struggling financially, filling their stomachs was the priority. He didn¡¯t care much for the owner, whose sharp tongue and stinginess grated on him. Lance earned fifteen bucks a month, whereas the average wage in the City of Angels was around sixty. They¡¯d even added a subject called ¡°Statistics¡± in universities just to keep track of this average. Most workers actually only earned forty-five to fifty a month. Lance¡¯s pay was barely a third of the standard. He didn¡¯t want to do all this never-ending work for so little pay, either. But he had no choice¡ªhe was undocumented. Somehow, he¡¯d ended up on a ship that docked here. According to the people onboard, they¡¯d all paid handsomely to be smuggled into the Federation. Despite all the talk of automation, the Federation¡¯s rapid growth still demanded labor, and factories often had people working alongside oxen and horses. Sometimes it was hard to tell which was which. The economy was booming, and the labor shortage was massive. The president was pushing a "Non-Regular Immigrant Legalization Act.¡± In plain terms, it was about giving undocumented immigrants a chance to become legal citizens, complete with voting rights. This move had gained considerable support among the undocumented, and using illegal workers was becoming more common. Everyone seemed to understand what was happening, but nobody said it out loud. Because he had no legal status, Lance had no choice but to work here, earning less than half of what others made. This situation was common in Jingang City. People loved hiring undocumented workers¡ªif you obeyed, these up-and-coming capitalists might even cut your pay by two bucks next month. If you didn¡¯t behave, they¡¯d just call the cops and claim you harassed them. This trick worked very well on undocumented workers. One of Lance¡¯s hometown acquaintances, who came over with him, was already getting free meals behind bars. He spent the entire afternoon working around the bakery. The smell of baking bread made his stomach growl as the hours dragged on, but he had to wait until the day ended to get his hands on any leftovers. The boss refused to keep unsold bread overnight, as it turned rock-hard. While reheating it made it edible, it wasn¡¯t as good as fresh bread, so leftovers became their food. Around a little after six, the bakery started to get busy. The boss stood at the counter handling payments, while his daughter packed bread for customers. The apprentice was constantly shoving dough into the oven or kneading more. Lance handled miscellaneous tasks. Though the boss¡¯s daughter wasn¡¯t very attractive, she was plump and¡­ flavorful. A kind of¡­ rancid flavor. If she hadn¡¯t reeked so much, Lance might have braced himself to become part of the family. But her overpowering scent was simply unbearable. By eight-thirty, the bustling business finally wound down. Exhausted, Lance cleaned up the bakery. He wasn¡¯t allowed in the kitchen, so most of his work was out front. The hefty boss sat at the table counting the day¡¯s earnings, a warm, relaxed smile on his face. It was hard to imagine such a stingy, bitter man smiling so gently, but money had a powerful effect. After ensuring everything was clean and all tools were properly stored, Lance walked over to the boss. The boss looked up, sensing someone approaching, a wary look on his face. ¡°What do you want?¡± Lance forced a small smile. ¡°It¡¯s been a month now, boss. About my pay¡­¡± The boss, who¡¯d looked wary, nearly jumped up as if he¡¯d been poked with a hot iron. ¡°Pay?¡± ¡°What pay?¡± ¡°You weren¡¯t feverish from that rain the other day, were you?¡± ¡°No fever,¡± Lance replied, looking a bit puzzled, ¡°We agreed on fifteen bucks a month.¡± The boss glared at him. ¡°Yeah, sure. But did you consider how much you¡¯ve cost me, staying here and eating my bread every day?¡± He flipped a page in his notebook. ¡°The cheapest inn around charges twenty-five cents a night, but I let you stay here for twenty.¡± ¡°Thirty-one days in a month¡­¡± ¡°February only has twenty-eight days, boss.¡± ¡°Shut up and listen!¡± ¡°Thirty-one days, at twenty cents a night¡­¡± Lance, seeing the boss freeze up mid-calculation, quietly helped out, ¡°That¡¯s six dollars and twenty cents, boss.¡± The boss nodded, ¡°Right, six-fifty. And every morning and evening, you eat one of my bread rolls.¡± S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°You know, I sell each one for fifteen cents, so that¡¯s¡­¡± He looked at Lance, waiting for an answer. Lance didn¡¯t disappoint, ¡°Nine dollars and thirty cents, boss.¡± The boss scribbled another number in his notebook, ¡°Yep, nine-fifty. Plus your rent, six-fifty, means you¡¯ve cost me¡­ ten¡­ eighteen dollars a month.¡± ¡°But your pay is only fifteen. So, tell me, how do you think you¡¯ve earned any wages?¡± ¡°You actually owe me three bucks. I¡¯ll deduct it from your next paycheck¡ªif you get one.¡± Lance was at a loss for words. He¡¯d only read about this kind of thing in ¡°stories¡± and ¡°history,¡± but now, after an entire month, it was hitting him for real. It was like he was just a passerby in the grand tide of history, impressed but unattached. Until now¡ª ¡°You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re not joking, are you?¡± he asked. Hello from the BOTI Translator Team! We¡¯re thrilled to introduce you to this new story. If you¡¯re enjoying it, please give us a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates. Thank you for being with us! Chapter 2: I Never Joke Chapter 2: I Never JokeThe boss looked at Lance with a satisfied but condescending smile. ¡°Unless you want to make me angry, you¡¯d better get back over there and wipe that floor again.¡± For capitalists who hire and exploit illegal workers, guilt over oppressing them would never even cross their minds; if it did, they wouldn¡¯t do it in the first place. Anyone who could call themselves a capitalist, or even a budding one, had to get over any pangs of conscience to start. The two of them locked eyes for a moment. Lance raised his hands and backed up a couple of steps, saying, ¡°Whatever you say, sir.¡± The boss was pleased with this response and nodded with a grin. ¡°I like it when you call me ¡®Boss.¡¯ Keep doing that.¡± ¡°As you wish, Boss.¡± With that, the boss, thoroughly satisfied, let him go. ¡°Now get out of here!¡± Expressionless, Lance grabbed the mop he had just hung up and picked up a bucket to go fetch hot water, when he noticed the apprentice peering out at him from the back room with a smug look on his face, as if mocking Lance. Lance met his gaze, but the apprentice didn¡¯t back down, staring right back at him. ¡°I only have to pay him three bucks this month, but you¡ªyou¡¯re stuck paying him ten!¡± The apprentice seemed ready to retort, but Lance didn¡¯t give him the chance. ¡°In my hometown, we have a saying: ¡®Good dogs don¡¯t block the road.¡¯¡± The apprentice instinctively took a step back, though his face immediately flushed red with anger. Ignoring the curses behind him, Lance headed for the boiler room. The bakery¡¯s large oven wasn¡¯t an electric one or a standard household appliance. It was a massive wood-burning oven, continuously stoked with firewood. To make the most of the heat, there was a copper pipe inside. The pipe held water, which heated up and sent steam through a pipe connected to the base of another large water tank, heating the water inside. This three-hundred-gallon tank was filled at four in the morning and boiled by around eight, maintaining a steady ninety degrees throughout the day. To save on cleaning supplies, the boss insisted Lance use this nearly boiling water for mopping. Not only did hot water clean up oil stains and clumped bread crumbs better, but it also dried faster, allowing the boss to save a fair amount on detergent costs. So, with a bit of extra effort, Lance started scrubbing the floor he¡¯d just cleaned. Over the next couple of days, Lance silently endured the boss¡¯s harassment. For now, he needed a place to stay. Leaving was easy enough, but where would he find food or a place to rest? He figured he¡¯d leave once he found a more stable solution. As for the exploitation and mistreatment? He¡¯d make sure to pay it back. He wasn¡¯t the type to swallow his grievances quietly. That weekend, at around ten in the morning, the bakery was bustling with customers. Since the Federation introduced a two-day weekend policy a few years ago, more people had time to enjoy their weekends. They¡¯d go out for a trip to the suburbs or a meal, and even the poorer folks in the lower city had more opportunities and choices for weekend activities. ?¦¡???????S? Sweating from head to toe, Lance kept working non-stop. Just as noon approached and the customer flow began to thin out, the bell above the door jingled as two men entered, both wearing shirts, vests, and flat caps. They looked to be in their twenties with a hint of menace about them, and their sharp gazes could cut like knives, making anyone uneasy. In the corner, the boss quickly moved over to the cash register. The two young men walked up to him with casual, confident strides, and one of them took off his hat, pinching the brim as he held it toward the boss. Without hesitation, the boss pulled out a stack of cash from the register, counted out fifty bucks, and placed it in front of them. ¡°Add ten dollars; the rate¡¯s gone up,¡± said the shorter man, his face stony. The boss looked like he wanted to argue but eventually stayed silent, counting out another five two-dollar bills. The taller man put his hat back on, casually grabbed a twenty-five-cent loaf of bread, and left with a grin, tossing a quick goodbye at the boss. Perhaps it was because Lance had seen the boss¡¯s softer, almost submissive side that his once docile and pitiable face twisted into a mask of rage. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°How long are you planning to just stand there?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you see all the work that still needs to be done?¡± ¡°Remember what I told you¡ªdon¡¯t make me keep yelling at you, or you¡¯ll regret it!¡± Seeing the boss fuming with shame and anger, Lance just smiled and got back to work. Today seemed to be an unlucky day for the boss¡ªnot that he was injured, but his luck was clearly not great. Around one in the afternoon, during the bakery¡¯s quietest time, the doorbell rang, stirring the dozing Lance awake. The boss and his daughter were already on their lunch break. Despite being so overweight, they still insisted on napping. Perhaps that was part of why they were so fat. The newcomers were two police officers, dressed in sharp, well-fitting uniforms. Their silver-gray badges gleamed brightly in the well-lit room. ¡°Gentlemen, how can I help you?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve got freshly baked donuts, double-sugared.¡± ¡°If you buy a box, we¡¯ll even throw in a free cup of coffee.¡± The free coffee was made from the cheapest ground coffee beans, which cost a dollar for six pounds. During processing, many beans got crushed and sieved out. The intact, larger beans sold for the highest price, while the lowest-grade beans, mixed with roasted twigs and bean shells, went for a buck per six pounds. Despite the quality, customers rarely noticed the difference. As long as the coffee wasn¡¯t too bitter and came with a freebie, they¡¯d happily drink it. Seeing no other customers around, the chubby officer turned the ¡°Open¡± sign to ¡°Closed¡± and took up guard at the door. The tall, skinny officer made himself comfortable in a chair. ¡°Where¡¯s Johnny?¡± Johnny was the boss¡¯s name, and Lance nodded toward the back room. ¡°He¡¯s napping.¡± ¡°Go wake him up and tell him an old friend¡¯s here to see him.¡± Lance felt no attachment to the bakery and could tell these cops were here to cause trouble. He was more than happy to watch the boss squirm. He promptly went to the break room and knocked on the door. It wasn¡¯t long before the boss¡¯s cursing echoed from inside, and about two minutes later, he yanked the door open, his face full of rage. ¡°Is someone dying, or what?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you know skipping a nap ages you faster?¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t have a good reason for disturbing me, I¡¯ll dock two dollars from your pay!¡± Lance waited until the boss had finished venting his anger, then pointed over his shoulder. ¡°An old friend is here to see you. He¡¯s a police officer.¡± The boss¡¯s expression shifted from anger to unease in an instant. He patted down his clothes as if considering retreating back to the room but ultimately decided to face them. It was clear he wanted to avoid this. When they returned to the main room, the officer was already enjoying a piece of bread. He¡¯d taken the most expensive loaf and opened a pack of premium ham, savoring his meal with a surreal calm. It was like¡­ this wasn¡¯t his true face. A police officer shouldn¡¯t be sitting in a bakery¡¯s dining area, savoring a meal slowly and politely during what appeared to be work hours. ¡°The bread¡¯s good, and the ham¡¯s high quality. You¡¯ve got the best skills in the area,¡± the officer remarked, stuffing the last of the bread in his mouth. He chewed a few times, swallowed, and then pulled out a handkerchief, carefully wiping away any remaining crumbs or grease. ¡°Time to pay this quarter¡¯s dues.¡± The boss, speaking with a rare hint of humility, completely lacked the loud, imposing tone he used with Lance or the apprentice. ¡°Isn¡¯t that supposed to be next month?¡± January, April, July, and October were the ¡°protection fee¡± months. Not that they called it that, of course¡ªit was an ¡°insurance fund¡± that went to the police chief in the area, who ensured their safety. If someone robbed a shop, the police would try to catch the thief and return the money, but only if possible. So far, there¡¯d been at least thirty thefts and robberies on this street alone this year, with not a single person caught. Some whispered that the cops had actually nabbed the culprits but kept the money for themselves. Some shop owners had tried resisting but quickly faced retaliation. Their stores were broken into repeatedly until they resumed paying the fees¡ªand often had to pay even more. In the end, they had to comply to run their businesses in peace. The officer tilted his head, looking at the boss. ¡°I¡¯ve kept you all safe for years, which held back my career.¡± ¡°But now I¡¯ve got a good opportunity. If it works out, I¡¯ll be promoted to the district office.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m a little short on cash to make it happen. You won¡¯t make things difficult for me, will you?¡± The boss¡¯s lips twitched, but in the end, he chose not to argue. ¡°I¡¯ll get it for you.¡± The officer¡¯s face broke into a bright smile. ¡°I knew you¡¯d understand. Once I¡¯m in the office, I¡¯ll make sure the gangs don¡¯t bother you anymore.¡± Not that anyone believed it. A short while later, the boss returned with two hundred bucks. Perhaps Lance¡¯s presence offered some reassurance, as the boss hadn¡¯t sent him away. The officer counted the money, mostly in ten- and twenty-dollar bills, finishing quickly. ¡°Another two hundred, for half a year¡¯s payment this time.¡± The boss¡¯s face twisted in shock. ¡°There¡¯s never been such a rule!¡± The officer placed his soiled handkerchief on the table, looking directly at the boss. ¡°There is now.¡± Chapter 3: If It Shouldnt Die, It’s Not a Vampire Chapter 3: If It Shouldn''t Die, It¡¯s Not a VampireBlocking the bakery door with his bulky frame, the fat officer turned and glared at the boss with a vicious glint in his eyes. Sometimes, the police in the City of Angels were even worse than gangsters, looking less like the good guys and more like something much darker. Facing an unspoken but terrifying threat, or the option of losing two hundred dollars, the boss chose to give up the cash to protect himself. This bakery made about four hundred dollars a month. After covering regular expenses, there was roughly three hundred and fifty left. Every month, the boss paid fifty in ¡°sanitation fees¡± to the gang and about sixty-five to the police. Recently, the gang raised their cut to sixty. So, after everything, his profit was only around two hundred and twenty-five. Once he accounted for his and his daughter¡¯s wages, the net profit was barely a hundred dollars. For most working-class people, this might still be a substantial sum, but for a business owner, it was nothing to boast about. But at least it was still profitable. Taking a deep breath, the boss forced himself to stay composed. ¡°No problem, I¡¯ll go get it now.¡± A short while later, he returned, clutching the two hundred dollars he painfully pulled from his hidden cash stash and set it on the counter. The officer gave it a casual glance before pocketing the money. ¡°Johnny, don¡¯t worry. I play by the rules.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not losing out here. I won¡¯t charge you anything else for six months. You haven¡¯t been extorted by anyone; you just paid a bit early.¡± The boss looked slightly more at ease after hearing this explanation. But Lance, watching from his corner, knew the truth: this sudden early collection wasn¡¯t just because the officer needed the money urgently. Most likely, the guy really was about to transfer out and wanted to make one last haul before leaving. But Lance felt no obligation to warn the boss¡ªeven if he did, there wasn¡¯t much the boss could do. Some people had tried reporting corrupt cops before, but those cases always ended in silence. The officer glanced between the boss and Lance, then tossed his handkerchief into the trash by the counter. ¡°If you run into any trouble, just have the station call me.¡± With that, he patted the fat officer at the door on the shoulder, tipped his hat, and walked out. The ¡°Closed¡± sign was flipped back to ¡°Open.¡± Lance watched them through the bakery window as they headed to the next shop. The officer clearly had an appetite for more. From this street down to the corner, there were at least thirty shops. If each one paid him four hundred dollars, that¡¯d be twelve thousand. For the average person earning forty or fifty bucks a month, twelve thousand was an astronomical figure! ¡°Those foot-sore mongrels, those filthy bas***ds¡­¡± the boss cursed in a low voice. He muttered so cautiously, even in his swearing, that Lance couldn¡¯t help but find it laughable. ??????£Ï?????? Suddenly, the boss looked up, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at Lance. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m a joke?¡± Lance instinctively took a step back, shaking his head quickly. ¡°No, not at all.¡± But the boss seemed to think otherwise. ¡°You can laugh at me; you saw me humiliated. That¡¯s fine! No dinner for you tonight!¡± With that, he stomped back into the room, the sounds of objects being thrown around following him. Lance looked at the half-open door, the cursing coming from inside, and the apprentice smirking at him from the back room. All of it gave him a clear understanding of the times he lived in. Power was the foundation. Whether it was the young men collecting ¡°protection fees,¡± or that thirty-something officer in his righteous-looking uniform¡ªstrip away the trappings, and they were all the same. What kept him working for free for a month, ending up three dollars in debt to a greedy capitalist, while those guys pocketed a big cut every month without lifting a finger? It was power. Power created order. And those without power? They had to obey. Lance wasn¡¯t the type to follow rules, not entirely. Later that afternoon, as he pondered how to make the boss pay for his arrogance, he saw a short guy in a flat cap rushing toward the bakery, hands on his hips and out of breath as he peered inside. Spotting him, Lance immediately went out to see what was up. On the journey over, Lance had met plenty of guys his age¡ªseventeen, eighteen, nineteen¡ªwho were quick to form a group. Just a few words and a nod to see if they could ¡°hang¡± was enough to make fast friends. Most of these refugees from the same homeland stayed in the area, doing the hardest, dirtiest work at the port¡ªwhere undocumented workers congregated most. The locals despised that kind of work, and capitalists preferred hiring undocumented workers for lower wages. They were the top choice for rough labor. There was even something called ¡°job leasing¡± now. The port¡¯s bulletin board listed notices like these¡ª The Federation¡¯s laws and regulations supposedly protected the working class, but in practice, they served as tools for better exploitation. To work, every laborer needed one of two documents: a Federation Social Security Number or a work permit for immigrants. If you were native-born or a legal immigrant, you had at least one of these. Undocumented folks had neither, but they still needed work, so what did they do? Some locals leased out their jobs to them; the most common example was boat scrubbers. The port office didn¡¯t care who actually did the scrubbing, as long as the boats were clean on time. Scrubbers made thirty-five a month. The undocumented worker had to pay fifteen to lease the job, then do all the work. They kept the remaining twenty. Twenty bucks was already considered high pay¡ªsome job cards now cost as much as eighteen. This meant someone officially unqualified to work could lease a job, toil away for a month, and only make seventeen. They lived in concrete pipes, ate the cheapest food, and might save just a few bucks each month. Some enterprising locals took on two or three jobs, or more, and leased them all out to undocumented workers. Each month, without lifting a finger, they¡¯d pocket fifty to sixty bucks. It had become a unique way of life in the city. The short guy in front of him, Elvin, was one of Lance¡¯s old acquaintances. In a foreign land, the shared bond of being from the same place created a certain trust. That trust stemmed from shared experiences, a sense of safety from knowing someone from the same background. Though some people took advantage of this trust, Elvin was reliable. He¡¯d come to the Federation with Lance in the same batch from the Empire. It was obvious he was in a rush. Lance wiped his hands on his apron as he stepped outside. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Elvin looked frantic. ¡°It¡¯s Ethan! Something happened!¡± Lance¡¯s expression shifted. ¡°What happened to him?¡± In their group, Lance had earned respect for his maturity and life experience. Whenever issues arose, they would turn to him for advice. Even if he was new to this world, his years as an adult gave him an edge in making steadier decisions than these half-grown kids. Elvin took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. ¡°Today¡¯s payday. You know we rent our work cards, so¡­¡± S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lance was already guessing the rest. ¡°So the port paid your wages to the people who rented you the cards, and Ethan¡¯s guy refused to pay him, right?¡± Elvin nodded furiously. ¡°Exactly. That jerk told him he wouldn¡¯t give him a single penny and even cursed him out.¡± ¡°So Ethan got mad, beat the idiot up, and then the scumbag called the cops¡­¡± These incidents weren¡¯t uncommon at the port or throughout the City of Angels. There were always people ready to snatch away whatever others had, often without them knowing. And since the law didn¡¯t recognize undocumented workers, calling the cops often cost more than the month¡¯s lost wages. Most who got cheated just pretended nothing happened. This encouraged the parasites to get worse, knowing no one would report them¡ªthe cost was simply too high for undocumented workers. And with the sheer demand for labor in Jingang City, those job cards would always have takers. Lance frowned. This was not going to be easy. ¡°Where is Ethan now?¡± ¡°I told him to hide in the culvert under the bridge.¡± ¡°And the guy?¡± ¡°He said if Ethan paid him two hundred bucks, he¡¯d drop it. Otherwise, he¡¯d keep making trouble for him.¡± ¡°If he follows through, Ethan could end up getting sent back.¡± Being deported to the Empire now would mean more than just going to the front lines¡ªthe Emperor had gone mad. He¡¯d have anyone who evaded the draft executed! In other words, if Ethan got sent back, he¡¯d likely face prison or even death. The Federation¡¯s people could exploit and threaten them with no fear of consequence because of this! But two hundred was a huge amount. They¡¯d been here only a month, and most barely had a few bucks after food and expenses. Two hundred was impossible. Elvin confirmed this. ¡°We managed to pool sixty-three between seven or eight of us. We¡¯re still short more than a hundred.¡± Lance sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t get paid this month, and I¡¯m three bucks in debt.¡± Elvin¡¯s voice was thick with anger. ¡°These damn vampires!¡± Chapter 4: What Was That Saying? The Wheels of Fate Start Turning… Chapter 4: What Was That Saying? The Wheels of Fate Start Turning¡­¡°The most important thing now is to get that son of a b*tch to drop the charges, or Ethan will have to keep hiding in the shadows.¡± ¡°If they catch him, it¡¯ll be a huge mess!¡± Lance was already thinking about how to handle this. Over the past month, it had become clear to him that the people in the Federation couldn¡¯t be trusted. Being rootless here, perhaps his fellow countrymen from the Empire would be his best allies. ¡°There are two ways to go about it. First, we scrape together some cash to shut this guy up and get him to withdraw the complaint.¡± ¡°Or, if we can¡¯t find the money, we¡¯ll have to convince him by¡­ other means.¡± Elvin frowned. ¡°That¡¯s not really much of a plan. Where are we supposed to get that kind of money? Who would lend it to us?¡± They¡¯d only been here a month, didn¡¯t know anyone, and hadn¡¯t brought much cash. Most of them were here because their families had sacrificed a lot, almost emptying out their savings to send them away. Now, many fishermen back home had quit fishing entirely, instead ferrying people offshore to waiting smuggling ships. The whole journey had cost around fifteen hundred, a sum most families could barely afford. And since their families back in the Empire still needed money to survive and handle emergencies, the newcomers barely had anything left. When Lance disembarked, he¡¯d had less than five bucks to his name, and the others were in a similar situation. The most anyone had was maybe a few dozen. Elvin grumbled in frustration. ¡°So where on earth are we going to find that much cash?¡± Lance asked him to wait a moment while he went back to the bakery to discuss taking time off with the boss. ¡°My buddy¡¯s in trouble, and I need to go check it out, so I might not be back this afternoon.¡± The boss sat behind the counter with a pipe clenched in his teeth, his squinty, beady eyes almost hidden under folds of fat, just two pinpricks like buttons on an over-risen loaf. He eyed Lance up and down. ¡°You can have the time off, but I¡¯ll dock you a buck. And if you¡¯re not back by five, it¡¯ll be two.¡± ¡°If your absence causes us to sell less than yesterday, you¡¯ll cover the difference, since it¡¯s your fault.¡± Lance stared at him, and the boss met his gaze, unafraid. ¡°I know you hate me. And I enjoy watching you hate me, knowing there¡¯s nothing you can do about it.¡± ??????????B¨º? Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Tapping his pipe against the counter, he pointed a finger at Lance. ¡°If you run off or don¡¯t come back, I¡¯ll call the cops and say you stole from the store. You get me?¡± Lance maintained a respectful demeanor, even managing a slight smile. ¡°I understand, Boss.¡± The boss sneered. ¡°Then get out. And remember, I want to see you behind that counter by five.¡± ¡°Oh, and by the way, you now owe me four bucks. I¡¯m charging interest. If you don¡¯t pay by the end of the month, it¡¯ll be four-sixty¡­¡± A fifteen percent monthly interest rate¡ªequivalent to a 180 percent annual rate¡ªpractically murderous. Sometimes, people standing on the edge of a cliff feel the urge to jump. Some resist it; others take the plunge. Lance was silent for a moment but didn¡¯t refuse. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind, Boss.¡± The boss, no longer able to draw satisfaction from lording over him, waved him off irritably. ¡°Scram.¡± Lance took off his apron, and he and Elvin headed out together. Not far off, their friends were waiting, about a dozen or so, crouching in the cool shade of an alley. When they saw him, they stood up and greeted him anxiously. ¡°I¡¯ve got five bucks here. How much did we pool together?¡± A guy named Mello dug into his pocket and pulled out a faded handkerchief, bulging with coins. When he opened it, nearly all of it was small change, though surprisingly there were also two two-dollar bills. Seeing this camaraderie in a foreign place, facing a crisis, Lance felt a sense of ¡°power¡± stirring within them. Like seeds planted in dark soil, it would one day push through to the surface. ¡°With yours, we¡¯ve got seventy-seven dollars.¡± The young men exchanged a mix of expressions on hearing the total. In this period, inflation in the Federation was low, and with the economy booming, the dollar¡¯s purchasing power was strong. Seventy-seven bucks was not a trivial amount. But it was still a ways off from two hundred. ¡°Anyone know where the nearest finance company is?¡± After thinking it over, Lance decided to take out a loan¡ªa high-interest one. Sure, the interest was harsh, but with fourteen of them pitching in, even at a fifteen percent monthly interest, each of them would only shoulder about one-fifteenth of a hundred and fifty, meaning around a buck-fifty. If they paid it back with interest, each would only need to contribute three bucks a month, and they¡¯d clear the debt in less than half a year. He explained his plan to the group, and after some discussion, they agreed it was the best option, though it¡¯d mean tightening their belts a bit. But after working for a month, they¡¯d gotten used to the city and learned a few tricks to survive. They knew where to find shelter, where and when free meals were handed out, and where they might snag used clothes on a lucky day. The longer they survived in the Federation, the better they¡¯d manage. And recently, the news had been abuzz about Congress passing a new bill concerning illegal immigrants. Once it was signed, they¡¯d be able to register at the immigration office and get their own work permits. Then, every dollar they earned would be theirs, and they could pay off any debts in no time. Lance led the way, with about a dozen young men trailing behind him, and entered a finance company. Finance companies were everywhere in the Federation, especially in a fast-growing city like Jingang. Ninety-nine percent of the Federation¡¯s citizens clung to the ¡°Federal Dream.¡± Many had seen ordinary people like themselves seize some opportunity, rising from the lower classes to become middle-class, even capitalists, driving the nation wild with ambition. Miracles happened every day, celebrated in the media, equating the Federation with the promise of dreams, pushing people to pursue their own. But starting a business required money, and banks weren¡¯t the easiest lenders. To reduce risk, banks demanded collateral, usually only lending sixty percent of a property¡¯s value, with strict evaluations and conditions that blocked many from their entrepreneurial dreams. Finance companies, however, didn¡¯t ask as many questions. As long as you had something of value or the ability to pay back the loan, they¡¯d lend to you. Sure, some people took the money and vanished, but they often ended up in barrels, becoming part of the port¡¯s foundations. If someone thought they could exchange a few hundred, a few thousand, or even ten thousand dollars for their life, the finance companies would settle for that loss and end the borrower. Of course, few would go that far. The survival instinct was the strongest of all. So, finance companies lined the streets and alleys near the port. Lance picked one that looked relatively large. The bouncer at the door stepped in front of them. ¡°This isn¡¯t a club. If you¡¯re looking for girls, they¡¯re across the street.¡± Facing this group of young men, he didn¡¯t quite know what they were after, and to play it safe, he placed his hand on his hip, where his shirt was slightly lifted, revealing a holster and the glint of a handgun. Some of the group immediately took a step back, while the rest grew too nervous to speak. Lance, however, remained calm, understanding that there was no reason anyone would shoot him. Not over this. ¡°We¡¯re here to borrow some money.¡± The bouncer looked at Lance, recognizing him as the level-headed one. ¡°You and one other can go in. The rest stay outside.¡± Lance glanced back at the group. Though most held their ground, none stepped forward. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Elvin volunteered. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡± Lance nodded, and the bouncer let them pass, while the others waited outside. The company¡¯s interior was lavishly decorated, though it wasn¡¯t very large. Right past the entrance was a reception desk, where a pretty girl was busy filing her nails. She glanced at the newcomers before returning her attention to her nails. Lance walked up and tapped the counter. ¡°We¡¯d like to borrow some money.¡± ¡°End of the hall, left turn. There¡¯s only one room there,¡± she replied without looking up. Lance smirked, then gestured for Elvin to follow him. Elvin was visibly nervous, so Lance didn¡¯t speak, knowing that small talk would only make him more anxious. The hallway was short, lined with offices on either side, though the occupants looked less like office workers and more like enforcers. Each gaze lingered on the two of them as they walked past, and Lance could feel Elvin sticking close, even more uneasy. Tattoos covered muscular bodies, the hardened look of these men enough to make Elvin bow his head. But Lance walked on, unfazed. At the end of the hall, they turned left, stopping at a door marked ¡°Manager¡¯s Office.¡± Lance knocked, and a voice from within called, ¡°Come in.¡± Pushing open the door, they found a well-dressed man in a suit and tie sitting behind a desk. He looked to be in his early thirties and, after a moment¡¯s surprise, invited them to sit. ¡°Can I get you something to drink?¡± ¡°Water, thanks.¡± Chapter 5: I Have a Proposal, Too Chapter 5: I Have a Proposal, TooSoon, someone brought two glasses of water, and the manager placed his hands naturally on the desk, fingers interlocked. He spread his hands. ¡°So¡­ what brings you here?¡± With a range of services offered, some transactions didn¡¯t go through him directly, so he wasn¡¯t always aware of every deal. Elvin seemed lost for words, but Lance remained calm and at ease. ¡°We¡¯ve run into a bit of trouble and need some money.¡± The manager smiled. ¡°That¡¯s no problem. That¡¯s what we¡¯re here for.¡± ¡°How much do you need?¡± ¡°Two hundred.¡± ¡°Two hundred?¡± ¡°Two hundred.¡± The manager didn¡¯t think the amount was too small. Here, finance companies took on any size of loan¡ªsmall loans, in fact, often brought in higher returns per dollar. While larger loans like a thousand dollars might come with an annual interest rate of fifty or sixty percent, loans of ten thousand might be only twenty or thirty percent. Plus, the risk was lower with small amounts. People were more likely to default on a big loan than a few hundred bucks. Of course, he¡¯d still need to gather some basic information on them; handing out money to anyone who asked wasn¡¯t finance¡ªit was charity. ¡°You don¡¯t sound like locals,¡± he observed. Lance didn¡¯t deny it. ¡°We¡¯re from the Empire.¡± The manager sneered slightly. ¡°I read about what¡¯s happening over there in the news¡ªa pretty miserable place. So, what do you have as collateral?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not from here, and if you run, it¡¯d be hard to find you.¡± ¡°Rather than backing your request, I might as well turn it down.¡± Lance anticipated this as an obstacle and calmly began explaining. ¡°We don¡¯t have any collateral¡­¡± Seeing the manager¡¯s expression morph into one that screamed, Are you kidding me?, Lance continued quickly, ¡°But we do have the ability to pay you back.¡± Seeing the manager¡¯s skeptical expression, he explained further, ¡°There are fourteen of us. We all work here in Jingang City, and since we¡¯re undocumented, it¡¯s not easy for us to move elsewhere.¡± ¡°As you probably know, other cities offer fewer job opportunities and aren¡¯t as¡­ tolerant as Jingang City. So, we won¡¯t be going anywhere.¡± The manager nodded at this, taking out a pack of cigarettes and offering it. Lance took one, though Elvin merely looked on and declined. The manager found Lance¡¯s poise interesting and pushed over a tabletop lighter, a popular model at the time¡ªabout the size of a grown man¡¯s palm. This one was a small clown figurine holding a torch. When you pressed down on the clown¡¯s arm, a spark would light the cotton wick in the torch, fueled by kerosene. ????¦Á???¨¨s Lance held the cigarette to the flame and took a deep drag, visibly relaxing. Watching him smoke, the manager lit his own cigarette. ¡°So, back to the topic. Explain how you plan to guarantee I¡¯ll get my money back.¡± ¡°There are fourteen of us. Even if each of us only makes fifteen dollars a month, that¡¯s still two hundred and ten dollars.¡± ¡°We¡¯d pay you half of that, which would settle the debt in a maximum of three months.¡± ¡°And even if we lost our jobs, we could work directly for you to pay it off. There¡¯s no need to worry about us defaulting.¡± The manager listened and saw the logic but still had a question. ¡°And how do I know I¡¯ll be able to find you?¡± ¡°You could take a picture of us.¡± A good suggestion, but the manager decided to dig deeper. ¡°Mind if I ask what you need the money for?¡± ¡°After all, two hundred dollars isn¡¯t a small sum for you guys.¡± Lance didn¡¯t hold back and got straight to the point. ¡°We¡¯re dealing with a problem. Some son of a b*tch is trying to shake us down for money¡­¡± After hearing Lance¡¯s brief explanation, the manager seemed intrigued. ¡°I have a new proposal. Interested?¡± Lance flicked his cigarette ash and replied, ¡°Do we have a choice?¡± The manager chuckled. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like it¡­ Here¡¯s the deal: I¡¯ll handle that¡­ son of a b*tch for you, and you¡¯ll still owe me the two hundred, but I can reduce the interest a bit.¡± ¡°Honestly, letting me take care of it would be better for you than paying him off yourselves.¡± ¡°As per our policy, a two-hundred-dollar loan would typically cost you three hundred fifty over six months, interest included.¡± ¡°But here¡¯s the deal: I¡¯ll cut it down for you. You pay three hundred twenty total over six months¡ªfifty-three thirty-three per month. Consider it a reward for your¡­ performance.¡± Seeing the manager¡¯s confident smile, Lance neither agreed nor refused immediately. Instead, he countered with a new offer: ¡°How about we pay you two hundred fifty total, interest included, off the books?¡± The manager froze for a moment, then burst into laughter, his laughter growing louder and louder, impossible to suppress. Lance realized what the issue was. ¡°This company¡­ is yours, isn¡¯t it?¡± Still chuckling, the manager nodded, holding his stomach. ¡°You¡¯re hilarious. Trying to bribe me right here!¡± ¡°Haha, you¡¯re something else. Not like the clueless guy beside you. By the way, what¡¯s your name?¡± S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Lance,¡± he answered, spelling it out. ¡°A strange name, but you¡¯re an interesting one, Lance.¡± ¡°For making me laugh so hard, I¡¯ll lower it to two hundred eighty over six months.¡± ¡°This is my final offer. If anyone else had tried haggling, I¡¯d have kicked them out immediately!¡± The manager¡¯s pride was palpable. In this cash-strapped era, anyone with cash had no trouble finding borrowers. Some might not want to bear such interest rates, but plenty of others were willing to take the risk. Two hundred plus eighty in interest¡ªconsidering the time and place, that was far from exorbitant. Lance didn¡¯t hesitate. Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, he exhaled the last puff of smoke as he stood and extended his hand. ¡°Glad we could reach an agreement, sir.¡± The manager blinked, then shook Lance¡¯s hand. ¡°You¡¯re a fascinating one, Lance. Now I¡¯m your creditor.¡± He called out toward the door, ¡°Fordis, get in here!¡± A burly man soon entered, standing at attention. ¡°Yes, boss?¡± The manager released Lance¡¯s hand and gestured to him. ¡°Follow him and settle a matter with some son of a b*tch. Then, swing by his workplace. And grab some food on the way back.¡± He looked at Lance. ¡°You¡¯re not like most people your age. Frankly, there¡¯s something unique about you, and I like that. I have a feeling you won¡¯t be just anybody in the future.¡± ¡°Hope I¡¯ll hear your name around Jingang City someday, Lance.¡± ¡°Oh, and don¡¯t forget about the money you owe. If you do, I¡¯ll make sure someone comes to remind you¡ªa reminder you won¡¯t like. Got it?¡± Though he found Lance intriguing, business was business. Just like how the street girls didn¡¯t offer discounts for regular customers. If one caught their eye, they might offer to spend the night, but during work hours, every extra request had a price. After this simple warning, he let them go. Two hundred eighty dollars meant about forty-seven per month. But those forty-sevens kept his lifestyle afloat. Plus, he hadn¡¯t actually loaned any money¡ªhe¡¯d solved a problem and gained an intriguing acquaintance. That sense of dissonance around Lance, a feeling that he didn¡¯t quite fit this world, made the manager a little more forgiving, willing to let things play out. As soon as Lance and Elvin walked out of the finance company, their friends surrounded them, asking about the outcome. Lance explained that the matter had been handled but gave them a heads-up, ¡°Each of you will need to pitch in three dollars per month. That¡¯s forty-two, and Ethan can cover the remaining five himself¡ªit¡¯s his mess, after all.¡± No one had any objections, and they were all willing to follow Lance¡¯s lead. Fordis frowned. ¡°We¡¯re on a tight schedule.¡± Lance nodded and sent the others off to await further news. Then, he and Elvin got into the company car. Following Elvin¡¯s directions, they drove toward the port. The guy who¡¯d filed the report on Ethan lived in a workers¡¯ dormitory nearby. This was Lance¡¯s first time riding in a car in this world. The interior was far more luxurious than it appeared from the outside, with walnut and calfskin trim that gave off an air of understated luxury. ¡°How much does this car cost?¡± Without looking back, Fordis replied, ¡°Twenty thousand.¡± Lance whistled and fell silent. Twenty thousand. He could imagine it, but getting that much would be tough. The ride was a bit bumpy, lacking good suspension and making for a rather ¡°hard¡± trip, but it was still a car¡ªand as a man, he couldn¡¯t dislike it. The car pulled up outside the workers¡¯ dormitory. Fordis followed Lance and Elvin up to the fourth floor, where they knocked on a door. ¡°It¡¯s you?¡± The guy¡ªa drunk who reeked of booze¡ªsneered at Elvin as soon as he opened the door. ¡°You got the money?¡± Lance pulled Elvin aside, and Fordis stepped in front, speaking in a calm but firm tone. ¡°Go to the station and withdraw your report. This ends here.¡± The man, clearly drunk, was in no mood to comply. He shoved Fordis and sneered, ¡°Who¡¯d you hire to act tough?¡± ¡°You smuggled-in rats think I¡¯m scared of some muscle?¡± ¡°If you want me to drop it, fine¡ªtwo hundred bucks in my hand, or¡­¡± He trailed off, realizing Fordis had opened his jacket, revealing a holster and the gun inside. ¡°Wanna see if this thing fires?¡± The man sobered instantly, stumbling back with his hands up, retreating to the doorway. ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t realize¡­¡± Hi, dear readers! We hope you¡¯re loving this journey as much as we love translating it for you. If you¡¯re enjoying it, a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates would be an amazing way to support the BOTI Translator Team! Chapter 6: Gunmen and Bullets Chapter 6: Gunmen and BulletsWeapons are incredibly common in Jingang City. When violence becomes the rule in broad daylight, weapons inevitably become a key resource¡ªboth to defend oneself and to infringe on the rights of others. Faced with the choice between ¡°having a gun in hand¡± and ¡°reporting to the police afterward,¡± any smart resident of Jingang City knows which option to take. Although weapons are everywhere, not everyone possesses them, let alone openly displays them. Only three types of people dare to do that¡ª First, the federal law enforcement officers. They have the legal right to carry guns; if they shoot you, all they have to do is file a report saying, ¡°... I showed my ID, then he tried to grab my weapon, so I followed protocol under Section¡­,¡± and then they get a nice vacation, with enthusiastic greetings from colleagues upon their return. The second group is gang members, who not only don¡¯t hide their weapons but wish for as many people as possible to see them. The thrill of knowing their weapons can kill fills them with excitement. The third group comprises those who work for capitalists. They¡¯re the scariest because the first two groups at least abide by some rules. But the capitalist¡¯s people? They only recognize money. In the face of money, laws and morals are nothing that would stop them from pulling the trigger. On the western outskirts of Jingang City is a place called Angel Lake, a popular tourist spot, with a local saying known only to residents: ¡°When capitalists get angry, the water level in Angel Lake rises!¡± Outsiders might not understand this, but locals know that the lake level rises because of all the oil barrels dumped in it! Whichever kind it is, nobody messes with these bastards. People at the bottom of society actually understand how to navigate these crises and make choices better than most adults might assume. So when faced with an imminent crisis, this man immediately gave in without a moment''s hesitation¡ªso quickly that it almost looked... practiced! ¡°I¡¯ll do it right away, and I promise it won¡¯t happen again!¡± Fordis retracted his hand, letting his coat naturally fall to conceal his weapon, which allowed the man in front of him to finally take a breath. Just in those few seconds, his mind had gone blank, his body was drenched in sweat¡ªhe¡¯d felt like he¡¯d nearly died! He looked at Elvin and Lance with newfound wariness. ¡°I have some things I¡¯d like to discuss with... this gentleman here.¡± Fordis glanced at Lance for a few seconds, then turned away. ¡°I¡¯ll be here if you need anything.¡± In the entire company, Fordis was among the boss¡¯s most trusted men. If he¡¯d been sent out on this errand, it was certainly because the boss found this young man intriguing. ???????????????? He knew what to do. Lance gestured for the trembling drunk to step aside. ¡°Unless you¡¯d like to chat out here in the hallway, which I¡¯m sure your neighbors would love to overhear.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re okay becoming the laughingstock of this dormitory by tomorrow, we can continue here.¡± The man suddenly realized what was happening. Though he still held some fear, disgust, and resentment, he moved aside to let Lance in. Federal people still cared about their pride¡ªeven a bastard of a drunk. The apartment was a typical one for people at the bottom¡ªless than forty square meters, with a cramped kitchen, dining area, and bathroom, and beyond them, a bedroom and a small storage room. This setup was rather interesting. Those in the lower levels of the federation could go without a separate kitchen, but not without a storage room. Though most poor folks had very little, they always had a collection of inexplicable, useless things they refused to part with¡ªjunk, essentially. Just like themselves, in terms of their worth on the path of life. Without a storage room, the place would be an utter mess. There was no sign of a woman or child¡¯s presence, but a photo frame on the dining table held a picture of the man and a child. The whole scene suggested the man wasn¡¯t doing too well. The suspicious stains and strange odor on the sofa made Lance decide not to sit. He stood nearby, close to the door. ¡°Listen, Ethan is my friend. I¡¯ll have him apologize for his reckless behavior, but you¡¯re at fault, too. You shouldn¡¯t have tried to deduct money from his pay.¡± The drunk man nodded instinctively, murmuring ¡°uh-huh¡± in response. ¡°So after the case is closed, he¡¯ll apologize, but you also need to return the wages you withheld from him.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see that he doesn¡¯t pursue this further, but you have to promise this is the last time.¡± ¡°Your arrangement will remain in place. He¡¯ll keep using your work card every month, paying you fairly. But you won¡¯t make things difficult for him by withholding pay.¡± Lance walked over to the table, picked up the picture frame, and remarked, ¡°Cute kid. Yours?¡± The drunk man snapped out of his daze, suddenly tense. ¡°This has nothing to do with him.¡± Lance put the frame down, smiling. ¡°Whether he¡¯s involved or not depends on your choice, sir.¡± ¡°We¡¯re all just despicable stowaways here, thieves from another world. There¡¯s nothing here worth holding on to for us.¡± ¡°But you have family here. You have a child, don¡¯t you?¡± The man nodded repeatedly. ¡°I get it. I¡¯ll give him the money, but please, don¡¯t make any trouble.¡± Lance¡¯s hand rested on the edge of the table, and he suddenly felt the sticky grime. It was unpleasant, though he restrained himself from showing it. ¡°I¡¯ve always believed that everything runs according to certain patterns and rules.¡± ¡°As long as rules exist, we¡¯ll follow them. That¡¯s enough.¡± ¡°At market rate, fifteen dollars is what you¡¯re due. Nobody has the right to take away your money¡ªthat¡¯s the rule.¡± ¡°As long as you follow the rules, so will we.¡± From his position near the door, Elvin watched Lance with admiration. He never expected so much could happen in one day! Ethan ran off, they got into trouble, then Lance took him to borrow money. They didn¡¯t get the money, but they solved the problem. He even rode in a car and saw Lance act so cool in person! It was so worth it! Too cool! Despite his daze, the drunk man finally came to his senses. ¡°I know what to do now.¡± After a moment¡¯s hesitation, he asked, ¡°Can I know your name?¡± With a confident, self-assured smile, as if everything were under his control, Lance replied, ¡°Lance.¡± A few minutes later, the drunk man had changed into a different set of clothes. Though they still carried a strong odor, they were better than before. In silence, he got into the car. When they arrived at the precinct, he immediately explained the situation and signed a document under the watchful eye of some impatient police officers. From inside the car, Lance watched the events unfold through the glass window. It was a curious feeling. Fordis couldn¡¯t hold back his curiosity any longer and asked, ¡°Aren¡¯t you scared?¡± Lance looked back at him in the rearview mirror. ¡°Scared of what?¡± Fordis smirked. ¡°This is a police station, and as far as I know, you¡¯re an undocumented person. And so is the kid with you.¡± Lance couldn¡¯t help but run his hand over the car door. The smooth walnut wood felt satisfying, explaining why some people liked classic cars. ¡°Not at all.¡± ¡°Mind if I ask why?¡± ¡°Because there¡¯s twenty thousand dollars between me and them, and that¡¯s a gap they won¡¯t cross.¡± Fordis pondered this for a moment before saying with some admiration, ¡°That¡¯s a wise answer. Are you really only eighteen?¡± Lance didn¡¯t answer, only smiled. Not far away, under a bridge, Ethan hid in an abandoned culvert where many homeless people lived. This place stayed warm in winter since the wind couldn¡¯t get in, and it remained cool in summer thanks to shade and the cold air seeping from nearby pipes. Facing the drunk man, Ethan apologized earnestly, ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have hit you so impulsively. I¡¯m sorry, sir.¡± As he spoke, the man could still feel the ache in his cheekbone from Ethan¡¯s earlier punch. Ethan was only twenty but looked at least twenty-seven or twenty-eight, maybe even older. He was strong. His father had been a leatherworker¡ªa respected profession both in the Empire and the Federation. Leatherworking symbolized a craft, a social standing. It¡¯s hard to imagine leatherworkers having social status, but looking back at historical shifts in social class, it did exist. Because originally, those who could afford leather goods were usually nobles. So leatherworkers initially served the nobility, giving them a status above ordinary people. Thanks to his father¡¯s stable income and social standing, Ethan grew up tall and strong. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The drunk, now facing this intimidating young man, watched Ethan bow with an expression of relief. He glanced at Lance and Fordis, finally facing reality. ¡°I made some mistakes, too. It wasn¡¯t all your fault. We¡¯re even¡­¡± Ethan received his twenty dollars, not a cent short. The man had planned to give him a bit more, but Lance refused. Rules are rules, and it¡¯s best not to break them when you lack power¡ªthat¡¯s survival. After watching the drunk man leave, Lance asked Fordis to wait a little longer. He had a few more things to discuss with Ethan. Chapter 7: Start by following the rules Chapter 7: Start by following the rulesUnder the shade of a roadside tree, Lance looked at Ethan. "Feeling a little uneasy, are we?" Ethan shook his head, denying it. "No." But Lance could tell he was uncomfortable inside; Ethan just wouldn¡¯t say it out loud. "I worked hard for a whole month, and that bastard tried to pocket my pay. I punched him, and now I still have to apologize..." Ethan muttered. Hearing Lance say this, Ethan raised his head, looking at Lance in surprise as though Lance had read his mind. "Don¡¯t look at me like that. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s on your mind¡ªI just get it because I¡¯m young, too." "Oftentimes, I feel like pride matters more than anything else, but, Ethan, this is the Federation." He lifted his head, taking a deep breath. "Do you smell that?" Elvin joined him, inhaling the air, while Ethan was more straightforward. "The sea air, some stench, and maybe a hint of motor oil." "No!" Lance shook his head. "That¡¯s the smell of money, and power!" "This is a good place, Ethan. It¡¯s a place where you can do whatever you want, as long as you have money. But you need money first." "Do you have money?" Lance asked. Ethan shook his head, and Lance patted his arm. "So, you¡¯re still not in a position to do whatever you feel like¡ªwhether it¡¯s punching that bastard or anything else." "I asked you to apologize because I don¡¯t want this to escalate," Lance explained, glancing at Elvin. "The number of work cards at the docks is fixed, but outside the docks, there¡¯s a countless number of people like us waiting to start work." "If that jerk twists the story and spreads it around, Ethan, Jingang City might not have a place for you anymore." "People won¡¯t give jobs to someone who could punch their employer at any time. Why would they pick you to pay fifteen bucks when they could pick someone else? Because they¡¯re asking for a beating?" "You could take all his money, but it¡¯d mean you¡ªmaybe all of you¡ªwon¡¯t be able to find work at the docks afterward." "We¡¯re too easy to recognize. They can spot us among others, so here¡¯s today¡¯s lesson¡ªrules." "Take only what¡¯s rightfully ours. As long as we follow the rules, no one can use those same rules against us." "If he doesn¡¯t lie or cause trouble, no one will know what happened, and it won¡¯t impact you." "But if he does stir up trouble, the rule-makers will deal with him for causing unnecessary chaos." "This isn¡¯t the Empire, where you could go complain to your family, your uncles, or aunts and have them stand up for you." "Here, we have to bear it ourselves." Lance turned to Elvin, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Ethan¡¯s not the brightest sometimes, so keep an eye on him and get through this stretch of time." Recent events had made Elvin admire Lance to the point of near total obedience. "I will." Lance nodded. "If there¡¯s anything you don¡¯t understand, just say it." "We crossed the ocean to be here, we share the blood of our ancestors. We¡¯re brothers¡ªwe should be open with each other, united together." Ethan lowered his head and, after a long pause, murmured, "Thank you." Lance chuckled and gave him a light punch on the chest, but Ethan didn¡¯t even flinch, standing solid as a rock, like a little ox! "Alright, I should be heading back. If anything comes up, don¡¯t act impulsively. Come find me." "Even if you feel like killing someone one day, make sure to talk to me first. Don¡¯t throw your life away over some stupid impulse!" He gave Elvin¡¯s arm another pat and headed off by car. As Lance departed, Elvin rolled his eyes at Ethan. "Do you even know everything that went down today?" Ethan scratched his head, looking a bit embarrassed. "Sorry for dragging you guys into this." Elvin waved a hand dismissively. "We¡¯re brothers and fellow villagers, Lance was right¡ªwe should stick together." Then he recounted what happened after Ethan went into hiding, including how several friends from the first wave of arrivals chipped in money to help, even two strangers from their hometown pitched in three bucks. ??????????????¨º? Ethan burst into tears! He felt deeply moved and guilty because his foolish actions had saddled everyone with debt. Now, as the shame gave way to guilt, reason began to return, making him calm down. He realized how stupid it had been to hit that bastard in a moment of rage. "...So, the most urgent thing now is to pay back this debt." "The good news is, I¡¯ve still got over seventy bucks, so we don¡¯t actually need much more..." As the car sped down the bustling street, Lance sat in the front passenger seat. "Got a smoke, Fordis?" Fordis gave him a sideways look. "You should add ¡®sir¡¯ to that request!" But he still pulled open the glove compartment, revealing a pack of cigarettes. Lance took one, lit it with a match, and inhaled deeply. Thick smoke filled his lungs, carrying the scent of summer, a whiff of nostalgia, of time, and of history, instead of just tar and toxins! He rested his right elbow on the open window, leaning his head out, letting the hot summer wind ruffle his hair and blow through his heart. A new world, a new life, a new beginning! For once, his calm face showed a hint of a genuine smile¡ªwhatever brought him here, he¡¯d use this world as his canvas to paint his wildest dreams! At 4:55, the car stopped in front of a bakery. When Lance got out with Fordis, the chubby bakery owner¡¯s eyes nearly popped out! He hesitated, looking unsure. "Lance, you didn¡¯t get me in any trouble, did you?" "And who is this gentleman...?" Lance was an undocumented immigrant, a stowaway. The boss had figured that out long ago; otherwise, no legitimate person would take a job for barely ten bucks a month, even as a minor. The Federation had never prohibited child labor, only set shorter work hours and required proper wages. Lance had nothing¡ªno work card, no social security number¡ªso he was definitely undocumented. Seeing Lance return in a luxury car couldn¡¯t help but make the boss feel suspicious, even a bit uneasy. Lance kept things simple. "A new friend, Mr. Fordis, just stopping by to grab some bread." "I didn¡¯t miss my shift, did I?" Since he hadn¡¯t figured out who ¡°Mr. Fordis¡± was, the boss reined himself in a bit. "Of course not, I was just joking with you." He paused. "Go get your apron on; I¡¯ll attend to Mr. Fordis." Taking in Fordis¡¯s clearly expensive attire, the boss was reminded of his middle-class knack for knowing these things. Who else were those magazines targeting, if not the aspirational middle class? Certainly not the high-spending wealthy! "Lance is a diligent kid. If the floor¡¯s been mopped once, he¡¯ll mop it again just to stay busy." S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I always use him as an example to show others how good he is." "Although he¡¯s a bit shy socially, I had no idea he knew someone as important as you, Mr. Fordis." The boss¡¯s attempt at probing was clumsy. Fordis shot him a glance, said nothing, and stepped into the bakery. Though annoyed, the boss kept a smile on his face, gazing at the luxury car and Fordis¡¯s fine clothing. Realizing Fordis wasn¡¯t interested in small talk, he backed off. "Lance, introduce your friend to some of our specialties." Lance, now in his apron, stood behind the counter. His new look amused Fordis. "So... what would you recommend?" Lance opened the display case. "The only thing here remotely tasty is the high-quality ham from Musu Island." Musu Island, another country, wasn¡¯t close by. Thanks to its unique climate and geography, it was famous for three things: Tobacco. Ham. And women. Lance picked up a piece with tongs and handed it over. Fordis pinched it with his fingers, gave it a taste, then shook his head. "Not authentic Musu ham; barely passable." "If this is the best you¡¯ve got..." He glanced over at the boss in the corner. "I¡¯ll take two portions, and two breads that match. Got any donuts?" "Yes, with every box of donuts, you get a free coffee. If you like your coffee like wood shavings, I can give you an extra cup." Fordis closed his eyes as if dizzy. "So, this is how you treat your customers?" Lance chuckled, packing the food as he teased, "Ninety-nine percent of our customers just want a full stomach. They care about the price, not the taste or origin." He packed everything into a paper bag and placed it on the counter. "Six ninety-nine." One box of donuts, ninety-nine cents, including a free coffee. Two premium hams, five bucks. Two better-quality breads, one dollar. A fair price. With his food in hand, Fordis paid, giving Lance a reminder, "Don¡¯t forget your deal with the boss!" He cast a glance at the boss before pushing the door open, smiling politely as he left. Chapter 8: I know a lot of people Chapter 8 : I know a lot of peopleA busy day. On weekends, the bakery always got particularly hectic. The weekend rush boosted sales as people stocked up on two or three days'' worth of bread, preferring to stay in or go on outings during the increasingly hot weather. In the Federation, entertainment options were limited. For most people, watching TV and going for a walk in the countryside were among the few inexpensive forms of amusement. Places like bars, opera houses, and nightclubs were beyond their budget, and so were amusement parks¡ªtoo crowded and pricey. Ironically, it¡¯s precisely those who couldn¡¯t afford luxuries that kept the economy going. Reality can be stranger than fiction. It was a little after 8 p.m. when business finally slowed down. Surprisingly, tonight¡¯s dinner was pizza. Pizza had been in the Federation for about fifty or sixty years, evolving from a small community¡¯s ¡°hometown delicacy¡± to a popular food. It had gone through significant localization along the way. In fact, pizza¡¯s popularity in the Federation had grown so much that many believed it originated there, and other regions that had pizza even earlier began to adopt the Federation¡¯s styles and flavors. That¡¯s one of the main reasons people admired the Federation¡¯s economy¡ªeveryone wanted to emulate the strongest economy. This pizza was packed with cheese nearly spilling over, sausage and beef cubes piled high, and topped with slices of ham. The chubby bakery owner treated the ham like a prized possession. Each night before closing, he¡¯d personally check the storeroom to make sure all the ham was safe. Though Fordis thought the bakery¡¯s ¡°Musu ham¡± wasn¡¯t authentic, it was still worth the $499 it cost for the whole 55-pound block. Selling ham was more profitable than selling bread. One 50-gram serving sold for $2.50, so a whole ham brought in about $1,250. Yet, only a few customers splurged on ham. Most people couldn¡¯t, or wouldn¡¯t, spend that much. Even spending $2.50 for a few slices gave them pause. There was also a cheaper option, a ham that sold for a dollar a serving. It wasn¡¯t as flavorful, but it was affordable and made the bakery the most profit. The ham, roasted over charcoal, released an indescribably complex aroma mixed with the scents of melted cheese, sausage, beef, and baked dough. Lance had to admit, when it came to making pizza, Johnny was a pro. "Have a seat, Lance." Lance, who was mopping the floor, whistled, took off his apron, and sat at the table. The bakery owner''s daughter glanced at her father and then at Lance, blushing with excitement. But the boss didn¡¯t notice; he was focused on Lance. "Want some?" "You¡¯re not going to charge me extra, are you?" Lance asked, not touching the pizza. The owner looked a bit embarrassed. "Is that really how you see me?" "I know I¡¯m strict with you, but you can¡¯t deny that you get food, drink, and a job here." Lance interjected, "And owe you four bucks." The boss¡¯s face turned stern. "I was just joking. Don¡¯t you have any sense of humor?" Just then, the sweaty apprentice came out from the back room. With the weather heating up, work was getting tougher. The bakery¡¯s ovens were like mini-suns, radiating lethal heat. In fact, summer newspaper articles often reported bakers fainting by their ovens¡ªa measure of how hot the summer was. Having changed his clothes and wiped his hands, the apprentice was about to sit down when the boss looked up at him. "What are you doing here?" The apprentice looked at the fragrant pizza, stammering, "I... you said we were having this for dinner." The boss pointed at Lance, his daughter, and himself. "We." Then he pointed at the apprentice. "You." "''We'' and ''you''¡ªare they the same thing?" "I wonder if your elementary school teacher had water on the brain to have taught you this way. Your dinner¡¯s in the back cabinet, you know, yesterday¡¯s bread." ??????????????§¦???? The leftover bread was rock-hard, saved every day for their dinner. The apprentice looked stunned. He couldn¡¯t believe that Lance got to sit at the table while he, a local apprentice who worked unpaid and even paid ten bucks a month to learn, couldn¡¯t have a slice of pizza. He glared at the boss, but the boss didn¡¯t budge. "If you don¡¯t like it, you can leave. Just don¡¯t let your mother come begging me on her knees later!" That hit a nerve. The apprentice, who had been clenching his fists in defiance, suddenly deflated like a spineless creature. With his head hung low, he turned back toward the kitchen. That was his place¡ªnot here. Lance grabbed a slice. This cheesy, meaty pizza was the best meal he¡¯d had since arriving here. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He took a bite. His teeth first crunched through the crispy, oily ham, then the sausage, still soft on the inside but crisp on the surface. Then came the gooey cheese, exploding with rich, creamy flavor like a volcanic eruption. Beef cubes crushed under his bite, each taste bud firing from the distinct texture! As he swallowed, the pizza¡¯s dough released a unique wheat aroma mingled with basil and other spices. This pizza was an absolute masterpiece! He wolfed down every bit, even the crust, then reached for another slice. The boss¡¯s eye twitched. He¡¯d invited Lance to dinner mainly to figure out who¡¯d given him that ride earlier. If it was someone he couldn¡¯t afford to offend, he¡¯d back down. As a low-level member of society trying to rise, he knew his place. In operas, anyone challenging authority ended up as a mere historical footnote. Only nobility or those with privilege could successfully avenge themselves. People had long understood that the poor were fated for tragedy, while happy endings belonged to the elite¡ª The enlightened king, the joyful princess, the fallen noble realizing his dreams, and the poor young man crushed by society¡¯s rules! People knew this all along but kept encouraging poor young men to daydream. Though the bakery owner was wealthy in some people¡¯s eyes, he was still at the bottom of this society. Lance grabbed another slice, eating heartily, and just as he reached for a third, the boss stopped him. "If you like it that much, take your time¡ªthe rest is yours." "But could you satisfy a little curiosity of mine?" Lance licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of meat and cheese. He pushed away the boss¡¯s hand, grabbed the third slice, and said, "In the Empire, there¡¯s a custom to avoid talking while eating. It¡¯s a sign of manners." "Whatever you want to discuss, wait until after dinner." Seeing he couldn¡¯t stop him, the boss hurriedly grabbed two slices, giving one to his daughter and stuffing the other in his mouth. In seconds, all three were racing to eat faster. In under five minutes, all that was left of the large pizza were crumbs. Lance pressed his finger on the plate, gathering up the crumbs and licking them off. When not a single crumb was left, he patted his stomach with satisfaction. A cigarette would¡¯ve been perfect right now. "So, what was it you wanted to ask?" The boss repeated his question. "The guy who brought you back this afternoon¡ªyou¡¯re close with him?" Lance didn¡¯t lie. "We get along. I know his boss." "Wait, he has a boss?" The owner¡¯s eyes widened in shock. In his mind, Fordis, dressed sharply and driving a luxury car, was already part of high society. The idea that Fordis had a boss, who Lance actually knew, was mind-blowing. He regretted all the terrible things he¡¯d done to Lance without knowing his background. If that person decided to retaliate... He couldn¡¯t imagine it! But curiosity also tugged at him, making him wonder about this mysterious boss. Maybe he¡¯d made a mistake exploiting Lance. Or, maybe this could be his big break¡ªan introduction to someone powerful! Leaning forward with a flattering smile, he asked, "So, your friend¡¯s boss..." Lance sipped his coffee, surprised to find it wasn¡¯t the usual bitter stuff. The coffee¡¯s rich oils thoroughly coated every sip, letting him savor its full charm. After taking a big sip, he set down his cup, burping contentedly. "You know, my friend had some trouble this afternoon, and I needed to raise two hundred bucks fast." "I don¡¯t know any big shots around here, so I went to a Finance Company nearby." "Finance Company?" The boss already had a bad feeling, but he had to confirm it. Lance nodded seriously. "Yeah, a Finance Company. I borrowed three hundred bucks. He drove me back to make sure I had a job¡ªjust so he could find me if necessary..." The boss¡¯s eyes turned red with anger, and he glared at Lance, gritting his teeth as he spat out his name¡ª "Lance! Go mop that floor again!" "And that pizza? Five bucks! You now owe me nine dollars!" "If it¡¯s not done by nine o¡¯clock, you can sleep outside!" Chapter 9: Have You Ever Had a Dream? Chapter 9: Have You Ever Had a Dream?The sound of a scrubbing brush scraping the floor echoed through the back room as the apprentice stood by the door, juggling a freshly baked, still-warm loaf of bread in his hands. He looked at Lance with a trace of mockery in his eyes, as if to say, ¡°Even if a chicken gets a rare chance to fly, it¡¯ll end up back on the ground.¡± That was likely the gist, though the apprentice himself probably wouldn¡¯t be able to express it so poetically. Lance straightened up, holding the brush. ¡°How¡¯s yesterday¡¯s bread treating you?¡± The room still held a strong aroma of cheese and ham, and the grin hadn¡¯t even faded from the apprentice¡¯s face before it vanished. His mouth began to tighten and his expression soured as if he¡¯d tasted something awful. He looked like he had words to say, but over the past month, he had lost every single one of these exchanges. He was always the one left in an uncomfortable silence. This time, he¡¯d learned his lesson and, with a huff, simply turned and left, keeping what little pride he had intact. The apprentice didn¡¯t argue because experience had taught him that, no matter what he did, he¡¯d end up feeling worse. Everything in the world seemed against him, and the feeling of being rejected was even stronger as he tasted the dry, nearly inedible bread in contrast to the rich scent of cheese and ham. Lance knew Johnny wasn¡¯t a good person, but he needed a place for now. He could¡¯ve gone elsewhere, but dealing with Johnny was far less stressful than the trouble he might face in other places. Johnny was just a fool¡ªannoying, but ultimately harmless. Money? It was sitting right there in the drawer, and once he decided to leave, no one would stop him from taking what was rightfully his. The bakery was packed during the three-day weekend rush, and the apprentice, likely still bitter over the pizza, stayed holed up in the back. His mood seemed to be spiraling, but the chubby boss paid it no mind. All he needed was a fool to help out without demanding pay. He¡¯d never had any intention of teaching this kid his craft. The only reason he¡¯d even let the kid stay was because his mother, though older, still had tight skin and was good at sweet-talking him. Whether the apprentice learned anything or not wasn¡¯t the boss¡¯s problem. That¡¯s how the trade worked: smart ones could pick up the craft; fools could just keep working. Without Lance, this might have been the ideal life for the bakery owner. But things were what they were. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. For Lance, frustrating the boss with his helpless rage had become a small source of entertainment. On Monday morning, when the fewest customers were around, Lance opened up the newspaper the boss had already read and quickly spotted news from the Empire. ?????????¨®?¦¥¡ì The emperor and his crazed army were being crushed by the rebel forces. His Majesty had issued the harshest conscription order in history, requiring every Empire male over fourteen to fight for the nation. They might even conscript women, given that fewer people were willing to fight for the emperor or the royal family. Even the nobles were staying neutral now. Otherwise, the rebel army¡ªmade up of the Empire¡¯s lower class¡ªwouldn¡¯t have defeated the Royal Knights so many times, forcing His Majesty to flee the capital. ¡°Madness¡± was the only word for the emperor¡¯s current state. The Federation had reported on this because the intensity of the Empire¡¯s war was affecting two trade routes, leading to a steady rise in the price of certain goods. The stock exchange warned that prices for these goods would remain high unless the war ended soon. Below that article was a mention that more refugees were expected to arrive in the Federation to escape the war. The number of illegal immigrants in just six months had already far exceeded that of previous years, sparking heated debate over whether to deport these ¡°black-market immigrants.¡± Jingang City and a few other prosperous cities were economically booming, creating new jobs so that the conflict between illegal immigrants and locals hadn¡¯t erupted yet. But in areas with slower growth, tensions had already begun. The paper noted that three Midwestern states had decided to crack down on illegal immigrants, imposing strict deadlines for them to leave the Federation or face imprisonment. Lance didn¡¯t think much of this plan; for most illegal immigrants, prison itself could be a way of making a living. Even in Jingang City, things were shifting. Work card fees were on the rise¡ªan unmistakable sign. In the afternoon, Elvin arrived with Ethan, Mello, and a few others. It wasn¡¯t a busy day at the bakery, so everyone had requested time off to relax together. Lance went out to greet them, exchanging hugs and calling each of them ¡°brother.¡± This made the young men visibly excited, each one hugging Lance back, slapping his shoulder or back, and calling him ¡°brother¡± in return. Passersby cast glances their way, but quickly looked away, as it didn¡¯t seem out of the ordinary. They¡¯d gathered partly because Ethan wanted to thank Lance in person, and also to strengthen their bond. After all, Ethan¡¯s trouble had ended up bringing them all closer. It made these young souls far from home feel like a united group¡ªa feeling that was both attractive and reassuring. Lance requested leave from the bakery, and the boss deducted a dollar, but he didn¡¯t care about that. A group of young men strolled down the lively streets, surrounded by sleek cars and fashionable women everywhere. The whole city pulsed with a unique vibrancy! You could feel the city¡¯s heartbeat, its growth, and its progress. This was the first time Lance had really explored Jingang City, and he wandered through it with his friends. The more streets they crossed, the more they saw. The blurry image in their minds was slowly taking form. Lance lit a cigarette, a cheap one that cost five cents. It was harsh, and the smoke stung a little. Ethan, curious, asked to try it. ¡°Let me have a go¡­¡± Lance handed him one, and soon everyone wanted to try. Back home, none of them would have dared. The thought alone would¡¯ve earned them a beating from their fathers! But here, in the Federation, the chains were breaking, and they felt bolder, more free. Unsurprisingly, they all choked after the first puff. Ethan tried to hold it back, but his face turned red before he finally gave in and coughed. Lance laughed as he watched them, a raw energy stirring within him as he saw their youthful playfulness. He flicked his ashes and asked, ¡°So, what do you guys want to be in the future?¡± Still coughing, Ethan raised a hand. ¡°I want to get rich, buy a big house, and bring my mom over.¡± Lance looked at Elvin, who tilted his head, thinking. ¡°I want to be a lawyer. I hear lawyers make good money.¡± One of the guys laughed. ¡°But you didn¡¯t go to school! You¡¯d need college for that, and you can barely read.¡± Annoyed, Elvin turned and punched him. ¡°Then I¡¯ll get rich like Ethan and hire a team of lawyers to work for me!¡± Others said they wanted a beautiful girlfriend or to win the lottery. Mello, a bit older at twenty-two, sat apart from the rowdy group, smiling as he watched them. Lance looked over at him. ¡°What about you, Mello?¡± Mello scratched his head. ¡°I just want legal status. I don¡¯t really crave money that much. My family¡¯s always been modest¡ªnot rich, sometimes even poor.¡± ¡°But that brings me peace. Sometimes I think having too much money isn¡¯t good.¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather earn wealth and everything I need by my own hands.¡± ¡°But the way things are, sometimes I feel like I can¡¯t even breathe. All I want is to stand up and face life, not bend over to it.¡± His words were heavy, and the others fell silent, each one reflecting on their own struggles and ambitions. Some sighed, others muttered complaints about their jobs, but all felt an even stronger desire to achieve wealth and status. These budding ambitions had been given fresh fuel today, and no one could predict what they¡¯d grow into. Finally, Elvin turned to Lance. ¡°What about you? What do you want to be?¡± Lance took a long drag, exhaling smoke slowly with a hint of a smile. ¡°I want to be someone useful to society.¡± The group blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter, pushing Lance around in jest. Amid the laughter, something in each of their hearts was being grounded and reshaped, helping them integrate into this era more deeply. Lance could feel himself transforming, no longer a mere visitor to this world. He was becoming a true part of it, someone truly alive in this time and place. ¡°Lance, do you think¡­ our dreams can come true?¡± Lance stubbed out his cigarette, nodded firmly, and answered with unwavering conviction, ¡°They definitely can!¡± Thank you for joining us on this chapter! Make BOTI Translator Team smile by leaving a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates. ???????? Chapter 10: An Iron Nail Chapter 10: An Iron NailLate at night, the sound of rapid gunfire echoed from the direction of the port, jolting Lance awake. He quickly got up and moved to the window, looking toward the port. The dim streetlights barely illuminated the dark road, where a few scattered rats occasionally poked their heads out of the sewers. The gunfire continued for seven or eight minutes before the wailing of police sirens filled the night, with police cars rushing toward the port. It seemed something serious had gone down at the port, and the gunfight in the middle of the night left him uneasy. It wasn¡¯t until the early hours of the morning that he finally drifted back to sleep. At 7 a.m., his alarm woke him up, and he couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the resilience of youth. Even with only three hours of sleep, he still felt full of energy. He rolled up his blanket from the floor and headed outside to the bakery¡¯s sink. The apprentice was already there, holding a cup of water from the boiler, brushing his teeth. Federation citizens were a paradox. Everyone knew how important it was to take care of their teeth, yet few people were serious about it. The apprentice made a few lazy strokes with his toothbrush, barely making any foam before rinsing his mouth¡ªcalling it ¡°brushing his teeth.¡± There were even mouthwashes on the market for people who pretended to care about dental health but didn¡¯t even want to brush their teeth, claiming to be ¡°more effective than brushing.¡± Whether that was true was anyone¡¯s guess. Customers at the bakery that morning were all talking about the previous night¡¯s gunfire. The Jingang Daily had a story on what happened: "Smuggling Boat in Violent Clash with Coastal Patrol; Multiple Officers Injured and Killed" It was the top headline, in bold print. The picture showed a smuggling boat that had been towed to shore, riddled with bullet holes. In the black-and-white photo, some stains might have been blood¡ªor maybe not. The boat looked like it had been torn apart in a storm of bullets. "...Based on a tip, the coastal patrol received word that a smuggling boat from the Eastern Ocean was attempting to approach the port at midnight. The patrol acted immediately to intercept the boat." "During the operation, the smugglers and their handlers resisted arrest with firearms, leading to a fierce confrontation. Multiple officers were injured or killed..." The other bakery patrons gasped, and even the chubby boss and his daughter couldn¡¯t help but exclaim, "Oh my God!" The guy reading the newspaper wore a satisfied smile. Attention-seekers are like that¡ªother people can die as long as they¡¯re in the spotlight. He kept reading aloud, "After more than ten minutes of intense fighting, the city police finally joined forces to wipe out this group of violent smugglers." "But as a result, four police officers have died so far, with more in critical condition." When he finished reading, he flicked the paper with his fingers. "They must have had heavy firepower. Let¡¯s hope those wounded officers receive the Lord¡¯s blessing." "These smuggling boats are disgusting. They don¡¯t just bring rats, fleas, and cockroaches¡ªthey bring swarms of illegal immigrants." "If you ask me, Congress should legislate the death penalty for these people." These comments received applause from the locals. Local residents enjoyed the benefits of illegal immigrants who, without work permits, contributed to the city¡¯s growth. At the same time, they stood atop the economic marvel built on countless sacrifices, lashing out at the very people who¡¯d made it possible. ???¨°????¨§S? It was like the way the middle class looks down on the lower class¡ªcalling them lazy worms rotting in the mud. Several undocumented immigrants in the bakery quickly left, clearly uncomfortable with the atmosphere. The boss joined in the criticism, cursing while keeping his eyes on Lance, as if his words were directed specifically at him. In the afternoon, rumors started circulating that a total of eleven officers had died¡ªnine from the coastal patrol and two from the local police. The people on the smuggling boat weren¡¯t ordinary immigrants; they were from the Empire, heavily armed, likely a part of a small paramilitary group. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. There was no doubt that, once in the Federation, such dangerous people wouldn¡¯t do any good. Their only real options were to form gangs or become ruthless bandits. Thankfully, the city¡¯s guardians eliminated the smugglers, securing the city¡¯s peace and protecting the lives and property of its citizens. But Lance felt this matter wasn¡¯t over yet. Later that afternoon, he went to find Elvin, completely unfazed by the boss deducting yet another dollar from his pay. "Be careful over the next while," he warned them. "It¡¯d be best if you all stuck together when you go out." Thanks to Ethan and Elvin, as well as stories from other young men from the Empire, their little group¡ªand the things Lance had done to help Ethan¡ªhad begun to spread. Some who had come from the Empire, though not on the same boat, also wanted to join their circle. With Lance¡¯s approval, they had been welcomed in. By now, there were about twenty of them, and Lance had memorized each of their faces. Elvin, the heart of the group, stood by Lance¡¯s side. "What¡¯s any of this got to do with us?" For a moment, Lance struggled to explain. "The presidential election is coming up, and the president is counting on illegal immigrants¡¯ support to get votes. But native Federation citizens aren¡¯t too fond of us." "Now, with more than a dozen officers dead in what¡¯s likely the most severe case in recent years, there are bound to be people using this incident to stir up public opinion." "Once a wave of xenophobia rises, we¡¯ll be in real danger." "You all know that if anyone attacks us, our only choice is to take the hit. Even if it¡¯s self-defense, the police will come after us." "The docks are complicated. Stick together to stay safe." Many people didn¡¯t understand the power of ¡°movements.¡± They could make a closed society embrace new things or twist a righteous cause into something harmful. There had been many instances in history of manipulating events through movements, and though the outcomes varied, the processes were always bloody. The players seated at the game board looked grand, and few realized the carnage on the board itself. Elvin looked puzzled. "Aren¡¯t you overthinking this?" "I don¡¯t think so. Anything that concerns our lives is worth watching closely." After giving his warning, Lance left, but not before seeing several people gathering around the bullet-riddled boat that had run aground. A few young men were there, raising their fists and shouting. By the next day, even The Federation Times had covered the story, and its impact was undeniable. As the Federation¡¯s economic powerhouse, anything that happened in Jingang City quickly made national news. This horrific case had already drawn the attention of the President and Congress. Though the big shots hadn¡¯t yet started maneuvering around the issue, the tension was building. Even more surprising, the Emperor of the Empire had made a statement, condemning the killing of Empire citizens as an act of aggression and demanding that the Federation hand over the perpetrators and pay for all damages. If not, he threatened to declare war on the Federation. When this news broke, most people treated it as a joke. The Emperor had already been driven out of the capital by the rebels. If not for a handful of loyal troops and a few supportive nobles, he would¡¯ve had to form a government-in-exile. Yet, in such a situation, he still dared to threaten war with the Federation¡ªhow was that possible? Almost all Federation citizens thought the Emperor was unhinged, and they were developing an intense dislike for him. Lance found this absurd, but quickly understood that it was the Emperor¡¯s way of deflecting attention. If he genuinely declared war on the Federation, the Empire¡¯s civil war might pause under the external threat. The rebel forces, who currently had public support, could be branded ¡°Federation lapdogs¡± if they didn¡¯t stop, turning them into pariahs in the eyes of patriotic citizens. Overnight, they would transform from heroes into traitors, losing public support and moral authority, allowing the royal family to regain control. If they paused the civil war, the royal family, as the Empire¡¯s legitimate rulers, could consolidate power through the war. To the Federation¡¯s citizens, this was a joke, but to the royal family, the Emperor himself, and high-level politicians worldwide, it was a calculated move! Lance had never felt any urgent need to obtain legal residency, but now that feeling began to change. Initially, he hadn¡¯t worried. He thought he¡¯d find a suitable moment and leave if he wanted to. But now, it wasn¡¯t just about having the right opportunity¡ªhe needed to secure his status as soon as possible. What began as a minor incident was now being propelled in unimaginable and unpredictable ways, growing beyond the comprehension of ordinary people. By the third day, demonstrators were already marching near the port, holding banners with slogans like "Go Back to the Empire." Outside the coastal patrol¡¯s office were nine empty coffins, each draped with a black-and-white photo of a fallen patrol officer. Flowers and small tokens piled around them, and without any instigation, waves of emotions were beginning to surge. It was a very dangerous sign! Chapter 11: A Big Shot’s Joke Might Not Just Be a Joke Chapter 11: A Big Shot¡¯s Joke Might Not Just Be a Joke¡°Mr. President, over ten groups have decided to march in Jingang City to protest the influx of immigrants, saying they bring criminals and crime to the Federation.¡± ¡°Senator Xilan made a public statement this morning, expressing support for your opponent. He believes that stricter immigration control, especially for illegal immigrants, would significantly improve the people''s well-being.¡± ¡°Also¡­ Mr. So-and-so and Mr. So-and-so both wish for a return call from you.¡± The President raised his hand to stop his aide from speaking further. The matters of these two gentlemen clearly took precedence over everything else. Both were key financial backers for his campaign, and before winning the election, the President had promised them a steady flow of cheap labor for the workforce. In fact, they weren¡¯t the only supporters given such assurances; many campaign backers had received similar promises. The Federation''s economy was advancing rapidly. As technology improved, the costs of raw materials and semi-finished goods had decreased, but labor costs continued to rise year by year. Four years ago, they only needed to pay twenty-eight dollars to hire a willing worker. Now, at least thirty-five dollars was needed just to hire someone lazy enough to cut corners. To get a diligent worker? Not under forty dollars. By next year, wages would likely start at forty dollars for most roles, with some positions requiring even more. For large factories with thousands, even tens of thousands of employees, saving just three dollars per worker could amount to tens of thousands saved each month, hundreds of thousands in a year. The President¡¯s push for the legalization of illegal immigrants was rooted in this need¡ªhe had to honor his promises to deliver a cheap workforce for society. There was no way he could ask citizens to give up high wages and work physically demanding jobs for less than the societal wage standard. Thus, the only choice was to turn to these undocumented workers. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. After contemplating for a while, he adjusted his thoughts and dialed a number. Following brief pleasantries, he promised the corporate president on the other end that he would swiftly address these issues. He also hinted that if he succeeded, he expected full support in his re-election bid in return. Then, he made a second call, then a third. Afterward, he summoned his team of aides, and a group of people held an early meeting in his office. ¡°I¡¯ve spoken with several gentlemen, and right now, gaining their support is our top priority,¡± he stated. ¡°I don¡¯t want to sound discouraging, but our campaign position is somewhat challenging. If our supporters continue to pull away, the chance of re-election will be very slim.¡± ¡°You all must find a way to tackle this problem¡ªwe¡¯re running out of time¡­¡± The Presidential Office remained as busy as ever, with everyone appearing to have endless tasks at hand. The aides discussed solutions, though few viable ideas emerged. ¡°Mr. President, I believe the priority is to contain the incident in Jingang City. Eleven law enforcement officers were killed, and the social impact of this result is tremendous.¡± ¡°Our opponents are already using this news to gain momentum. We either need to stop them or be even more aggressive ourselves.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± The aide didn¡¯t continue. While it seemed like the President had two options, in reality, no choices remained. After a moment¡¯s consideration, the President said, ¡°Let¡¯s figure out how to resolve this issue. Stop drawing people¡¯s attention to these conflicts¡ªcover some positive news. People need uplifting stories.¡± ¡°As for that news, find a way to downplay it¡­¡± Just as the President contemplated how to dilute the impact of this incident, his opponents were trying to stir up even more trouble for him. Their aim was simple and harmless: to ensure he lost the election. They weren¡¯t concerned with what might happen along the way or what societal changes might result. Even if the house burned down, it didn¡¯t matter. If they could become the house¡¯s new owners, they¡¯d rebuild it to their taste¡ªat least with new decor. If they didn¡¯t own the house, why would they care? A few days later, several sizable protest groups emerged within Jingang City, condemning the local government¡¯s leniency towards illegal immigrants and criticizing the Federation government¡¯s disregard for the harm caused by smuggling and illegal immigration. Indirectly, they were attacking the President¡¯s policies and decisions. ?£Á¦­¨°¦¢§§S? The Federation, as a free country, allowed people to speak their minds. Even if these protests seemed a bit extreme, both their actions and their words were within legal bounds. Driven by capital and political clout from campaign teams, what should have been a short-lived incident showed no signs of abating. A parade of protesters holding placards marched past the bakery, each looking furious as they demanded all illegal immigrants be sent back to their homelands, labeling them as thieves, prostitutes, and criminals¡ªas if every thief, prostitute, and criminal was an illegal immigrant. If the Federation''s citizens were genuinely so virtuous, this country would have fallen apart long ago. Lance observed from behind the counter as the public sentiment in Jingang City grew more complicated. There weren¡¯t many customers in the bakery that morning, only three or five old men. They would order a ten-cent piece of toast and a fifteen-cent coffee, which would let them sit around for most of the day. The chubby shop owner had seemingly gotten wiser lately, rarely bothering Lance. He had hoped to pressure Lance into submission but had achieved nothing but a stomach full of frustration. Now, he watched with interest, curious to see if Lance, who owed him more and more each month, would still be able to laugh by month¡¯s end. Lance¡¯s current debt to him was twelve dollars. At ten percent monthly interest, this debt would rise to fifteen dollars by the end of the month, plus a dollar-fifty in interest. It didn¡¯t seem like much, but if Lance continued to receive no wages, he¡¯d be working for free for the rest of his life. ¡°I wonder when these protests will end¡ªit¡¯s already affecting our lives,¡± one customer remarked, holding a newspaper as he chatted with his friend nearby. This was the true nature of the Federation bakery. It wasn¡¯t just a place to sell bread; it also had a social atmosphere, similar to a tea house or a caf¨¦. Some people would buy bread and sit there, order a coffee, and chat while enjoying their snacks. For the elderly, this slow-paced lifestyle was essential, and for some, this was the most relaxing part of their day¡ªtalking, boasting, reading the newspaper, and sharing their views. The customer beside him sighed as well. ¡°Who knows?¡± ¡°Maybe things will settle down before the election¡­¡± As he spoke, a newspaper boy in worn-out shoes dashed past the bakery door, waving a paper and shouting, ¡°The Empire has withdrawn its diplomatic envoy¡ªmajor international changes are on the way!¡± The people in the bakery were stunned for a moment, followed by a long silence. Without a doubt, the decision to withdraw the diplomatic envoy stemmed from the Empire¡¯s Emperor and his ¡°eccentric¡± ideas. By this point, many people at the grassroots level were beginning to realize that the so-called declaration of war might not just be the Emperor¡¯s ¡°joke.¡± Rationally, most people didn¡¯t believe this war would happen, but the looming threat still left them feeling suffocated. The customers who had been happily chatting left money on the tables and got up to leave. The chubby shop owner, coming back to his senses, looked at Lance with a complex expression. ¡°Do you think there¡¯ll be a war?¡± This was perhaps the first time in a while he had spoken to Lance without intending to get him to do more work. As Lance wiped the glass, making it spotless, he answered, ¡°No¡­ unless the President¡­¡± He abruptly stopped talking. He realized that if the President were to fall behind in the election, starting a war might actually be to his advantage. It wouldn¡¯t be the Emperor¡¯s last-ditch, ridiculous maneuver, but a shrewd political move with no cost. If it failed, he¡¯d just be ridiculed¡ªhe was already ousted by the Rebel Army and had endured worse. Declaring war on the Federation would only be the second most laughable thing he¡¯d done. But if it succeeded, he could reclaim everything he¡¯d lost. And it wasn¡¯t a random gamble; there was a significant chance of success. According to the Federation¡¯s constitution, elections do not take place during wartime, allowing the President to automatically stay in office until the war ends. He wouldn¡¯t even need to maintain the war for very long; three months would be enough to secure his re-election. Lance¡¯s sudden silence conveyed an ominous tension, and the shop owner, feeling the weight of it, wiped his hands. ¡°I¡¯m going out for a bit. Watch the shop.¡± He returned to his room with a grave expression and changed his clothes. If a war were indeed likely, he needed to stock up on flour and supplies. Whether he used it to make bread for sale or sold the raw materials, he¡¯d make a fortune. The apprentice leaned against the doorframe, gazing outside with a dazed expression, as if his blank stare mirrored the increasingly overcast sky, with no trace of insight breaking through. Chapter 12: Escalating Conflict Chapter 12: Escalating ConflictA thunderstorm broke out. Raindrops the size of soybeans covered the entire city and surrounding areas in an instant. It was as if the world had been draped in a thin veil, making everything appear vague and indistinct. People crowded the streets to find shelter from the rain. Skirts clung to long, shapely legs as the water soaked through, making them even more striking. The bakery saw a few people come in to avoid the rain. Embarrassed, they bought some bread out of courtesy. On any other day, regulars might have filled the room with lively chatter, brightening the atmosphere of the bakery. But today, no one seemed to be in the mood to talk. Everyone looked heavy-hearted, gazing at the dark sky outside. Low-hanging clouds seemed so close you could almost touch them. They not only loomed over Jingang City but weighed down on people¡¯s emotions as well. Jingang City often experienced such thunderstorms, especially in summer. Being near the coast, storms came and went quickly. Sometimes, people appreciated these storms¡ªthey washed away the city¡¯s dust, freshened the air, and brought a temporary reprieve from the oppressive heat. But now, no one was in the mood to think about such things. The Federation was no stranger to war, nor was it unseasoned in participating in wars. On the contrary, it was precisely because they understood the horrors of war that the people now found themselves mired in anxiety and unease. Watching others suffer was always enjoyable, but when misfortune struck oneself, no one could laugh. The gloomy sky resembled the clouded hearts of the people, who felt as if the sunlight in their lives had been blocked out. Even Lance, who fancied himself as having witnessed many grand events, could only stare dumbfounded at the rolling tide of history sweeping toward him, utterly powerless. Due to the rain, the streets remained deserted until noon. Around 11 o¡¯clock, the storm finally passed, and golden sunlight pierced through the clouds, tearing apart the gray veil and illuminating the earth. The rain-washed Jingang City sparkled with freshness, and more pedestrians began appearing on the streets. Councilman Petrit was displeased with his soaked pant legs. Officially, ¡°city councilors,¡± like Petrit, weren¡¯t required to take sides politically. At least, that was the principle. In reality, they had to choose a side if they wanted to climb higher¡ªwhether running for mayor or aiming for the state senate, they needed backing. Petrit¡¯s support came from a majority party senator in the state senate, who in turn had connections to even more powerful figures in Congress. Political directives filtered down the hierarchy, eventually landing on him. He was supposed to hold a press conference today, but the sudden rainstorm had left him irritated. While he might not articulate the wisdom of ¡°entering politics means losing oneself,¡± he knew he¡¯d given up much when he chose this path, including part of his personality. In the political circles of a city like Jingang City¡ªan economic powerhouse¡ªpersonal ability alone wouldn¡¯t take you far. Aligning yourself with a faction was necessary. Resources trickled down the ranks, and when you received your share, you were expected to contribute to the team when called upon. Standing on the soggy stage, feeling the rainwater seep through the poorly sealed seams of his shoes to wrap around his toes, Petrit grew even more annoyed. ?????N???S Damn politics! But his expression was as bright as the sunlight breaking through the clouds¡ªdazzling and radiant. ¡°Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming here. This will be a brief press conference¡­¡± Some reporters had already begun shouting questions, their impatience fueling his simmering frustration. Fighting the urge to smash something, he pursed his lips and continued, ¡°Regarding the recent firefight incident, our investigation team has uncovered some findings that need clarification.¡± ¡°First, the stowaways on the ship weren¡¯t all armed militants¡ªthose were just a small number, possibly fewer than ten. The rest were illegal immigrants.¡± ¡°Second, the death toll among the Coastal Patrol officers was two killed on the spot, with several severely injured. Nearly all the armed militants were eliminated.¡± ¡°Seven others died later in the hospital due to a shortage of emergency and surgical doctors.¡± ¡°In other words, they could have survived.¡± sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Finally, I must admit that after the firefight ended, some officers killed approximately 37 innocent civilians out of personal spite.¡± ¡°I apologize on their behalf to the innocent victims¡­¡± By the time Petrit reached this point, he knew what kind of storm awaited him, but he was prepared. It was a necessary move to demonstrate to the higher-ups in his faction that he was a responsible and fearless team player. On the surface, his statements seemed to supplement the investigation, but they were actually undermining the original conclusions. Firstly, he implied the incompetence of the Coastal Patrol and local Police, pointing out that they had lost eleven officers against fewer than ten militants. If the attackers had been numerous, the public might have attributed the casualties to the militants¡¯ firepower and professionalism, garnering sympathy for the victims. But now, the public would only think, ¡°How utterly incompetent!¡± Secondly, he redirected dissatisfaction and hatred toward the healthcare system by highlighting that most deaths were due to delays in treatment, not direct combat. The Federation¡¯s resentment toward its medical system and corporations was longstanding, making them a convenient scapegoat. Lastly, by reframing the fallen officers¡ªwhom some were already lionizing as heroes¡ªas villains, he diminished public sympathy for them. People mourn heroes but don¡¯t extend such feelings to villains. The aim was to make the public disengage from the issue. No one likes being deceived, not even those caught up in the heat of a cause. They¡¯d inevitably feel used, becoming indignant. Petrit knew he¡¯d be at the center of the storm after these remarks, possibly sidelined for some time. But it was also an opportunity¡ªif he weathered this crisis, he¡¯d have a clear path to either a mayoral run or a seat in the state senate. His bold, controversial statements instantly went viral, plunging the situation into even greater complexity. Two other city councilors publicly accused Petrit of spouting nonsense without evidence, with the Coastal Patrol even threatening to sue him. In truth, neither side had solid evidence to substantiate their claims. There had indeed been massacres of innocent stowaways out of vengeance, such as when a patrol officer entered the cabin with a submachine gun, prompting others to cover it up by eliminating witnesses. Likewise, the claim of delayed medical attention wasn¡¯t entirely baseless. Any survivor who reached the hospital alive wasn¡¯t considered a death at the scene, effectively reducing the immediate liability. As the factions hurled accusations and traded insults, the Federation¡¯s political theater unfolded in all its absurdity. According to a survey by the global media outlet Omni, conducted across major civilizations worldwide, 77% of respondents expressed interest in Federation political news¡ªnot out of fascination with politics but sheer curiosity about the depths of its ridiculousness. While some sought to downplay the incident¡¯s severity, others escalated it further. Soon, people divided into factions, turning the situation into a national pastime dubbed ¡°political brawling.¡± No matter how the situation evolved, those destined to suffer still suffered. Heeding Lance¡¯s advice, Elvin and his group had been sticking together lately. A few days ago, during the peak of tensions, someone had attempted to attack them. However, seeing their numbers¡ªyoung, strong men¡ªthey backed off. But as the crisis dragged on and the Emperor of the Empire issued increasingly erratic and outrageous demands, animosity toward Imperial citizens within the Federation continued to rise. Today, when they arrived at the docks, the management office informed them they had to leave. ¡°I know you¡¯re all good lads, but you¡¯ve seen the situation. They might not be able to trouble you directly, but they¡¯ll come after us,¡± the manager explained. ¡°There are already people protesting at our company¡¯s gates, demanding we stop hiring you.¡± ¡°And this isn¡¯t personal. Anyone without a social security number or work card is being barred from dock work. We respect and abide by Federation laws.¡± The dock worker responsible for job assignments wore a regretful expression. Truthfully, he had a fondness for these undocumented workers. They were hardworking and willing to do anything, even jumping into sewers to clear clogs. Local workers, on the other hand, made demands and expected extra pay for tasks outside their job description. But compliance was unavoidable. It was clear to everyone that Jingang City had become the epicenter of multiple competing forces. Even though the dock company had influential backing, ensuring stock price stability by temporarily laying off undocumented workers was the more practical choice. Capitalists always knew the right move. This decisive action made Elvin and his group realize one thing: they were now unemployed. Chapter 13: Give and Take Chapter 13: Give and TakeThey hadn¡¯t even had time to enjoy the freedoms of the Federation before losing their jobs. Perhaps this job loss was a lesson for these young men, teaching them a harsh truth: even if they endured exploitation and oppression, fate would never favor them. Simply because they stood at the bottom of society, powerless against the forces above them. When someone cannot resist being plundered, others don¡¯t sympathize with their plight¡ªthey just join in the plundering. Ethan wanted to argue with the dock manager, but Elvin firmly grabbed his shirt, staring him down with a look more menacing than he¡¯d ever shown before. Slowly, he shook his head, signaling Ethan to stay quiet. Antagonizing workers was one thing¡ªthey were all in the same social class, and at most, the workers might cause minor trouble or call the Police. In a city where countless cases occurred every year, no officer would waste precious resources on petty disputes. But antagonizing management, even the lower-tier cadres, was entirely different. Elvin stepped forward. ¡°Sir, when this turmoil settles¡­¡± The manager looked at Elvin for a moment, then nodded. ¡°Of course. You¡¯re always welcome here.¡± ¡°Elvin, you¡¯re a smart man, so I¡¯ll level with you,¡± he continued. ¡°You¡¯ve seen how much we need you all here. I don¡¯t think this storm will last too long. You just need to lay low for now.¡± Elvin forced an awkward smile. ¡°And during this time¡­ our wages?¡± The manager acted as though he hadn¡¯t heard, continuing with what he wanted to say. ¡°The company will ensure the docks remain operational, and City Hall will cooperate as well. Just be ready to return to work anytime we call on you.¡± It was a gentle but clear way of telling Elvin there¡¯d be no pay. Half a month¡¯s wages for thousands of workers was no small amount. And withholding pay was both legal and reasonable¡ªafter all, these men were undocumented. The manager raised a hand as if to pat Elvin on the shoulder but stopped short, noticing the dust covering him. He withdrew his hand. ¡°Good luck, Elvin.¡± As for the others, the manager didn¡¯t even spare them a glance. The group¡¯s anger was palpable, but they were helpless. Over the past month, while they hadn¡¯t fully grasped the Federation¡¯s social hierarchy, they¡¯d begun to get the picture. ¡°So, what now?¡± one of them asked. Elvin plucked a strand of hair and twisted it in his fingers. ¡°Let¡¯s find Lance. Maybe he has an idea.¡± The main entrance to the dock was surrounded by protestors. Some young demonstrators looked unstable, striking railings and gates with sticks. Not far away, Police officers munched on donuts and sipped coffee, casually chatting while half-sitting on the hoods of their cars, as though oblivious to the brewing violence. ????????¨¨? Spotting Elvin¡¯s group¡ªthe largest in number¡ªthe protestors seemed to discover a new target. Several young leaders turned toward them, and soon, the crowd of thirty or forty people, armed with sticks, began advancing. Unaccustomed to such confrontations, the group panicked. Seeing the Police¡¯s indifference, Elvin gave Ethan and Mello a shove and shouted, ¡°Run!¡± before bolting into the docks. They knew the area well, familiar with every hiding spot. Outside, the Police remained unfazed, continuing to savor their overly sweet donuts and coffee. Their chief had instructed them: letting people vent their frustrations would yield positive results. As long as no one was killed¡ªwell, even if someone was killed during this ¡°storm,¡± it wouldn¡¯t be a big deal. The societal tension, amplified by politicians and capitalists, had spilled over to affect more and more people. Some who weren¡¯t even locals had joined this so-called crusade against illegal immigrants, turning it into a "celebration" of sorts. By 2 p.m., the dock management decided enough was enough and called Jingang City Police. Soon, a fleet of Police Cars arrived, and baton-wielding officers with shields began detaining those attacking undocumented workers. They arrested the attackers but ignored the wounded or bloodied immigrants lying on the ground. While their actions appeared lawful, the justice they served carried a distinct stench of rotting fish. Elvin¡¯s group fared relatively well. Having outnumbered their assailants, they tried to minimize harm by restraining attackers rather than injuring them. Even so, many had bleeding wounds and injuries. Covered in blood, their faces showed traces of fear. Only days ago, they¡¯d dreamed of a brighter future. Now, those dreams seemed shattered. The mayor gave an emergency speech, ordering city-wide patrols to prevent further escalation. He authorized officers to shoot looters or arsonists who resisted arrest. Gunfire echoed sporadically throughout the afternoon, finally quieting down after 7 p.m. Lance was absentmindedly cleaning the bakery when the chubby owner returned with a truck, unloading supplies into the storeroom. The day¡¯s extraordinary events prompted the owner to close shop early. At 7 p.m., he instructed Lance to flip the ¡°Open¡± sign to ¡°Closed.¡± Lance was finishing the last of the cleaning when the doorbell jingled. Without looking up, he called out, ¡°Sorry, we¡¯re closed.¡± The visitor didn¡¯t leave, instead asking, ¡°Is Mr. Johnny here?¡± Stopping his work, Lance straightened up to see a woman in her mid-thirties. She wore an outdated round-collar blouse paired with a burgundy skirt. Though her attire was far from fashionable, her figure and features gave her an appealing charm that transcended trends. ¡°He¡¯s in the back. Should I call him for you?¡± She nodded, and Lance went to the window overlooking the storeroom. ¡°Boss, someone¡¯s here to see you.¡± ¡°Who is it?¡± Johnny emerged, ledger in hand. Upon seeing the woman, he frowned slightly. She walked straight to him, pulled him into the break room, and shut the door. The door clicked as it locked, prompting Lance to mutter, ¡°Lucky dog.¡± The woman wasn¡¯t Johnny¡¯s ex-wife or current spouse¡ªJohnny had been single since his divorce. Lance didn¡¯t recognize her. As Lance resumed work, he noticed the apprentice standing by the door, his face a mix of hurt and anger, fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. Lance elbowed him. ¡°You know her?¡± The apprentice glared at him. ¡°Stay the hell out of it!¡± ¡°Is she your mom?¡± Lance shot back, unfazed. The apprentice¡¯s eyes reddened as he glared harder, then turned and stormed off to the back. It clicked for Lance: she really was his mom. From the locked room came loud noises. Johnny didn¡¯t seem to care that others could hear, and the woman¡¯s pleas were audible through the thin door. The bakery was eerily quiet, amplifying every sound. It didn¡¯t take much imagination to know what was happening inside. About 15 minutes later, Johnny emerged, looking satisfied. ¡°This is the last time!¡± he said, his tone threatening. ¡°For your sake.¡± The woman, pale-faced, quickly adjusted her clothes and left the bakery without looking back. Lance cleaned up the mess she left behind as the owner shot him a warning glance. ¡°Do it right. If I find a single missed spot, you¡¯ll go hungry tonight.¡± He returned to the storeroom to inventory his new stock. Finishing his chores, Lance went to the back, where the apprentice stood at the workbench, wringing his hands. Leaning against the bench, Lance asked, ¡°Wanna talk?¡± The apprentice stayed silent. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Before Lance could press further, the door swung open. Abandoning the conversation, he went to the front to find Elvin, his head bloodied. Blood matted his hair, and although his face had been wiped clean, faint stains remained. Lance¡¯s expression turned serious as he approached to inspect the injuries. ¡°Who did this to you?¡± Elvin, his voice shaky, said, ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Lance, there was a clash at the docks this afternoon. That¡¯s when we got beaten.¡± ¡°We hid until dark to escape. A few others are in the same shape as me.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been temporarily fired¡­¡± That¡¯s it for today¡¯s update! Enjoying the story? Support BOTI Translator Team with a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates. Thank you! Chapter 14: Courage Comes from Purpose Chapter 14: Courage Comes from PurposeEighteen- or nineteen-year-olds are legally almost adults, but emotionally, they¡¯re far from mature. Elvin felt a deep sense of injustice. He had been fine at home until war broke out. His family, not wanting to see him dragged to a pointless death on the battlefield, sold their house to gather enough money to send him to the Federation. He had thought this would be a ¡°journey of growth.¡± After all, everything he¡¯d heard about the Federation from the Empire was positive and beautiful. Rumors said the air was sweet, the donuts delicious, food and clothing were freely distributed on the streets, and even those without a penny could find hospitals willing to treat them. These tales painted such an alluring picture that everyone who came to the Federation was filled with hope and imagination for a new life. But after arriving, everything had turned out to be horrible. The air was thick with the smell of manure, burnt motor oil, and car exhaust. The people were unfriendly, every face sharp with self-interest and disdain, looking at him as if he were trash. There was no sweet-smelling air, no taste of donuts. It was as if the whole world was against him. No matter how much he endured, even his right to be exploited and oppressed was being taken away. The resentment, hate, and disgust inside him surged uncontrollably. Elvin was not the type to show his emotions easily, unlike Ethan, who openly wore his happiness and frustrations. Elvin hid his feelings, but even he couldn¡¯t hold back this much pain. Seeing Elvin struggle to contain his tears, Lance gave him a tight hug. ¡°Everything will pass, Elvin. Everything will get better.¡± ¡°But right now, we need to take care of your wounds. If they get infected, it¡¯ll be serious.¡± ¡°As for everything else, leave it to me.¡± He quickly gathered up his friends hiding in an alley. Most were injured, but thankfully, no one had any broken bones. It was luck amidst misfortune. An old man on the street once told Lance that after breaking his leg, he waited two weeks to see a doctor, only to be told his bones had started to heal incorrectly. The man had two options: One, have his partially healed bone re-broken and treated properly, including a cast and wheelchair, which would cost around two thousand five hundred dollars¡ªmoney he didn¡¯t have on his twenty-seven-dollar monthly income. Two, undergo a minor correction and live with a permanent limp. The doctor would try a brace to see if that helped, for a cost of three hundred seventy dollars. In the end, he paid forty dollars for the consultation and went home. With the help of friends, he forced the bones back into alignment and used copper pipes to brace it himself. Now, he had a slight limp, but unless you looked closely, it wasn¡¯t noticeable. ?§¡????§à?????? If any of Lance¡¯s friends had broken bones, they would likely end up with permanent damage, but luckily no one did. Lance led them to a pharmacy, which was closed, with an iron gate barring entry. Jingang City¡¯s nights weren¡¯t safe, and pharmacies were often targeted for their valuable supplies. ¡°We need some medical supplies,¡± he said. A cautious voice answered from within, ¡°What do you need?¡± ¡°Gauze, bandages, alcohol, and some anti-inflammatory meds. And a suture kit. How many needles per pack?¡± ¡°Ten.¡± ¡°Then two packs.¡± The clerk quickly gathered the items, bagged them in a paper sack, and passed them through the gate. ¡°It would normally be twenty-one dollars and fifteen cents, but I¡¯ll settle for twenty-one.¡± Lance thanked him, handing over the money he had set aside for the Finance Company. People were drifting around in the darkness, but Lance¡¯s group was large, and they looked like they¡¯d just been in a fight, so nobody dared approach. Glancing around, Lance whispered, ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here¡­¡± The Federation government governed the city until eight p.m., after which the gangs took over. It was best to avoid being seen with a large group at night to prevent misunderstandings. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They found a narrow alley, where Lance used a streetlight to clean their wounds. Morale was low, and everyone seemed to have lost the drive they¡¯d once had when talking about dreams. Lance knew that wouldn¡¯t do, so as he stitched up Mello¡¯s trembling wounds, he asked, ¡°Did you recognize any of those who attacked you?¡± The question shifted their focus a bit, easing the tension. ¡°I did,¡± one friend said. ¡°I¡¯ve seen one of them at the docks a few times, but I don¡¯t know what he does.¡± Under the dim streetlight, their eyes glinted, watching Lance with a look of hope. Lance tightened the thread, causing Mello to shiver in pain. The freshly snapped twig he bit down on had been chewed to bits, its bitter sap filling his mouth but not dulling the agony. Even so, this usually silent, unassuming guy looked at Lance with a fire in his eyes. ¡°We can¡¯t just let this go,¡± Lance said, applying the last of the antiseptic powder, which cost a hefty nineteen dollars and eighty cents for a small ten-milliliter bottle. ¡°You didn¡¯t get hurt for nothing.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to pay them back. An eye for an eye, blood for blood!¡± ¡°If we don¡¯t stand up for ourselves, people will keep walking all over us!¡± In that moment, a surge of determination swept through his friends, replacing their exhaustion with a sense of purpose. Ethan stamped his foot. ¡°Lance is right! An eye for an eye, blood for blood!¡± They all repeated it, their resolve solidifying. After a while, when the adrenaline wore off and reason returned, they started thinking about what to do in the coming days. Lance already had a plan. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry too much about money. For now, hide in the storm drains.¡± ¡°This chaos won¡¯t last long. Jingang City is one of the Federation¡¯s most important economic hubs. The big shots won¡¯t let things spiral out of control over this.¡± ¡°Whether it¡¯s the capitalists or the politicians, they¡¯ll reach a resolution soon.¡± ¡°So remember¡ªwait it out.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get caught up in any incidents. They¡¯d use you as an example to scare others!¡± ¡°When things settle down, we¡¯ll go get justice!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t act alone, and avoid trouble. But if you get into a confrontation somewhere secluded¡­¡± Lance¡¯s eyes glinted like knives in the night. ¡°Take them out, hide, and then come find me.¡± For safety, Lance didn¡¯t walk them back. In fact, with so many of them, he didn¡¯t need to. Instead, they escorted him back to the bakery. Lance hugged each of them before they slipped away into the night. In the pitch-black darkness, the future was as obscured as the shadows around them, instilling a sense of fear. But in that same darkness, a small spark had been lit¡ªa stubborn, unyielding flame. Chapter 15: A New Job Chapter 15: A New JobThe chubby shop owner prepared the bakery¡¯s supplies and left in the morning, a rare occurrence, as mornings were peak business hours. The streets outside were dirty and chaotic. Customers mentioned that all of Jingang City¡¯s street cleaners had gone on strike today¡ªa polite way of saying it. In reality, most of the city¡¯s street cleaners were undocumented immigrants who worked for a meager twenty-five dollars a day to clean the streets twice. Hiring locals, on the other hand, cost at least thirty-five dollars per day. A ten-dollar difference might seem minor, but with enough workers, the savings added up quickly. There were two kinds of city cleaners: those working directly under the City Management Bureau as government employees with standard pay, social and medical insurance, government benefits, and plenty of time off. The others worked for private cleaning companies contracted by City Hall, hired as cheap labor¡ªoften undocumented immigrants¡ªwith minimal pay while the company pocketed the difference as profit. As clashes between locals and immigrants intensified, even the few local cleaners were too scared to work alone, forcing a strike. This strike might have also served as a political statement, subtly urging citizens to calm down. After just one night and morning without cleaning, the streets already looked filthy, animal droppings on the roadside emitting a stench in the heat. If it rained, the water would mix with the droppings, spreading the foul odor throughout the city. The morning rush passed quickly, with customers arriving early, buying bread, and leaving without stopping to chat. Around eleven, the same car Fordis had driven last time pulled up outside. He stayed inside, honking and calling to Lance, ¡°Get in!¡± Lance handed his apron to the shop owner¡¯s daughter, asked for a quick leave, and got in the car. ¡°The boss wants to see you,¡± Fordis said, carefully navigating around the manure on the road. It wouldn¡¯t harm the car, but cleaning the residue from the tire treads would be a hassle. Yet, there was no avoiding it with the streets in this state. ¡°What about?¡± Lance asked, though he had a pretty good idea. Fordis shook his head. ¡°There are smokes in the glove box. You¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡± They drove in silence, with Fordis focused on the road. Demonstrators were everywhere, and in the alleyways, small groups were occasionally seen assaulting lone individuals. Lance even saw Police officers tying up some rioters who had attacked immigrants to streetlamps and leaving them there. Fordis glanced over and explained, ¡°The Police stations are full, and they can¡¯t send everyone to jail, so this morning, the mayor signed an ¡®On-the-Spot Detainment Order.¡¯ Anyone caught attacking will be tied to a streetlamp for twenty-four hours.¡± Lance lit a cigarette. ¡°This bad, huh?¡± Fordis nodded. ¡°Lots of outsiders are coming to join in, so you can imagine how big it¡¯s gotten. Stirring up trouble is a popular hobby for Federation citizens, but some groups get paid to create chaos. Here, you can arrange any protest, anywhere, any size, as long as the money¡¯s there.¡± In Jingang City, luxury cars had their privileges, too, and Fordis had no trouble driving them directly into the alley behind the Finance Company, where several high-end cars were parked. Two burly men were lounging by the back door, sipping coffee. They greeted Fordis with a wave and gave Lance curious glances. ¡°This is Howard and his brother, Little Howard. Their dad had a bit to drink while filling out their birth certificates.¡± The older Howard raised a hand, gesturing dismissively. ¡°Cut the crap!¡± Fordis shrugged and led Lance inside, gripping his arm to guide him through the back entrance. The back door opened into a spacious break room furnished with sofas, chairs, small tables, dartboards, a pinball machine, and a pool table. Several people lounged around, their casual movements causing the old wooden floor to creak. Many of them greeted Fordis, and he responded casually, but their eyes were mostly on Lance, curious about the new face. People feared these men, but from Lance¡¯s experience, they were pretty easy to get along with¡ªuntil you triggered their ¡°switch.¡± Lance followed Fordis¡¯s lead, smiling and exchanging greetings as he wandered around, waving the cigarette Fordis had given him. ?§Ñ???¦¥s? ¡°New guy?¡± an older man asked, clearly liking Lance¡¯s youthful, clean-cut look and friendly demeanor. Fordis reclaimed his pack of cigarettes. ¡°The boss wants to see him.¡± The others fell silent, only wishing him luck. As they entered the Finance Company through a side door, the receptionist was busy with her makeup. She glanced over when she heard them, and Fordis explained, ¡°The boss wants to see him.¡± She nodded and resumed her task. At the end of the hall, Fordis stopped at an office door but didn¡¯t go in. ¡°Good luck, Lance,¡± he said with genuine warmth. Fordis liked Lance, but all he could do now was hope for the best. Inside, the boss was watching the news. The Police chief was on screen, repeatedly warning the public against crime and boasting about the day¡¯s work¡ªhow many people they¡¯d detained, how many crimes they¡¯d thwarted. But when the city would truly stabilize remained unsaid. ¡°Watch the news?¡± the boss asked, gesturing without turning around for Lance to sit. ¡°Grab a drink at the bar if you want. I¡¯ll finish this segment first. And I think you smoke¡ªcigarettes are in the box.¡± Lance lit a cigarette and leaned against the table, his eyes following the screen. At the end of the broadcast, the chief pledged his best efforts to restore order in Jingang City. To Lance¡¯s surprise, he noticed the same officer who¡¯d once shaken down the bakery owner, standing right behind the chief. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°What¡¯s that guy¡¯s role?¡± Lance asked, pointing at the screen. The boss looked a bit surprised but obliged. ¡°That¡¯s John. Don¡¯t let the name fool you¡ªhe goes by ¡®Vulture.¡¯ They recently made him Assistant Commissioner. Not a good guy, by any means.¡± Everyone in their circle knew who took bribes and who didn¡¯t, so hearing a loan shark call a crooked cop a ¡°bad guy¡± had an ironic ring to it. When the broadcast ended, the boss turned around and motioned for Lance to sit down. ¡°I forgot to introduce myself last time. I¡¯m Alberto Corti. Call me Alberto, or Mr. Corti.¡± Lance nodded. Alberto touched his lips thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯ve been following the news. Heard there was a large clash at the docks yesterday. Seems like your people aren¡¯t allowed to work there anymore?¡± ¡°It¡¯s temporary,¡± Lance explained. Of course, he owed it to Mr. Corti to clarify things and offer reassurance. Alberto chuckled without explanation, then sighed. ¡°These outsiders have made a mess of the city, and we¡¯re short-staffed.¡± ¡°You made me a promise earlier¡ªthat if I needed, you¡¯d work for me. Is that still good?¡± Lance was surprised but not entirely. ¡°Of course, Mr. Corti. My promise stands anytime.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Lance hesitated. ¡°Given the situation outside, some things might be a little difficult to manage.¡± Alberto raised a hand, stopping him. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid. I know what kind of work to assign you.¡± ¡°I have two accounts here. Both guys are trying to skip out. Can you collect what they owe me?¡± ¡°If you can handle these two, then I¡¯ll clear the debt you owe me.¡± Lance didn¡¯t agree immediately. ¡°How much do they owe?¡± Alberto pulled two loan contracts from a drawer and tossed them on the desk. Lance picked them up, noticing the contracts were very formal, likely drawn up with a legal advisor¡¯s help. One borrower had taken a loan of a thousand dollars, now worth thirty-five hundred with interest. The other had borrowed two thousand, now totaling five thousand. Lance whistled softly. There was no business more profitable than high-interest loans. ¡°Before I decide, Mr. Corti, do they actually have the money to pay?¡± Alberto spread his hands. ¡°Of course they do. If you can¡¯t squeeze it out of them, just bring them here. That¡¯ll count as a job done.¡± ¡°So, what¡¯s your answer?¡± Chapter 16: A Fresh Start Chapter 16: A Fresh Start¡°Looks like I don¡¯t have much choice,¡± Lance said, neatly placing the two contracts back on the desk. ¡°But this is probably my best option.¡± He paused briefly. ¡°So, when do I start?¡± Alberto didn¡¯t send him out right away. Instead, he asked, ¡°What about your bakery job?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just twenty bucks. I¡¯ll manage.¡± Alberto pulled open a drawer, took out a roll of bills, and handed Lance forty dollars. ¡°Here¡¯s forty as an advance. I hope it¡¯s worth every penny!¡± Lance accepted the money. ¡°I promise, you won¡¯t regret it.¡± ¡°Go find Fordis; he¡¯ll set you up with some tools to help collect those debts.¡± ¡°Now get to work. I¡¯ll be waiting for good news!¡± Lance stood, straightened his clothes, and headed out. When he reached the main hall, Fordis was already waiting for him, having been briefed by Alberto. Fordis led him to a small shed near the parking lot. ¡°What kind of weapon do you prefer? Baseball bat, knife, or hunting blade?¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t recommend anything too lethal to start. If you accidentally kill one of our valued clients, the boss will have your hide¡ªunless you can cover the loss!¡± Fordis chuckled, opening the door to reveal an assortment of weapons: baseball bats, knives, hunting blades, metal pipes, and steel bars hanging everywhere. ¡°Got any guns?¡± Fordis¡¯s smug grin faltered. ¡°Firearms are with Stone. You¡¯ll meet him eventually, but not now. You need permission from the boss for guns, though you¡¯re free to buy one yourself.¡± Fordis then pointed to a bat decorated in red, blue, and white. ¡°Here, try this! Official bat of the Jingang City Sailors. I love their games¡ªthis season, they¡¯re winning it all!¡± Fordis handed over the bat with enthusiasm. ¡°First, learn how to handle a bat. Then think about other weapons.¡± ¡°Our job is to help people who need cash get through tough times, and then, when they¡¯ve made it through, collect what¡¯s owed. We don¡¯t harm anyone who doesn¡¯t deserve it. Got it?¡± Fordis emphasized this point, and then led Lance back out. ¡°Pick a car. Can¡¯t have you and your friends running around on foot to do our work¡­¡± Lance¡¯s eyes lit up as he scanned the luxurious cars gleaming in the sunlight. But Fordis turned him around, pointing at a row of dirty, worn-out vehicles in the alley. ¡°Those are more your speed.¡± R????£Â????? sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lance scratched his head, wondering if those heaps even ran. ¡°Are these cars even drivable?¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they be?¡± Fordis opened the door to one, and as he tugged, the whole door fell off with a loud clunk. A mechanic emerged from a nearby warehouse, looking irritated. ¡°That one just came in! The others are fine¡ªwhy¡¯d you pick that one?¡± The mechanic, Jamie, wore grimy overalls and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. ¡°Is this our new guy?¡± Fordis smirked. ¡°Not exactly, but we¡¯ll be working together for a while.¡± Introducing Jamie, Fordis said, ¡°If you watch racing, you¡¯ll know Supersonic Racing Team¡ªJamie here was their #2 mechanic. Some things went south, and now he¡¯s working for the boss.¡± Jamie shrugged, ¡°I owed the boss a favor, so I¡¯m paying him back.¡± After a pause, he pulled a set of keys from a row on the wall and tossed them to Lance. ¡°Go try out your new ride¡ªthe brown one. Tuned it up myself.¡± Many debtors couldn¡¯t repay in cash, so the company took their cars as compensation. Luxury cars were rented out or resold, while others went to second-hand dealers. Those that didn¡¯t sell stayed here, ready for future use. Lance awkwardly started the car, adjusting to its quirks. It was an old model with a hand throttle¡ªa relic that had its throttle control on the right side of the steering wheel. You pulled back to accelerate, and it had a simple cruise control system using notches to keep the throttle steady. After a bit of practice, he got the hang of it. While unusual, the hand throttle wasn¡¯t too inconvenient once he adjusted. Lance stashed the bat in the trunk, bid farewell to Fordis and Jamie, and drove off. Once he got comfortable on the road, Lance headed to the bridge near the docks where Elvin and the others were staying. He stopped by a store, spending two dollars on ten packs of cigarettes and a box of matches. By the time he reached the bridge, forty minutes had passed. A few heads poked out from under the bridge at the sound of honking, and Elvin looked on in disbelief as Lance leaned casually against the car, cigarette in hand. ¡°Where¡¯d you get the car?¡± one of his friends exclaimed as they rushed over. A familiar, unwashed scent wafted from the group. It wasn¡¯t their fault; without proper facilities and with only the polluted river nearby, baths weren¡¯t an option. They gathered around the ancient car, admiring it. Lance handed out cigarettes to his friends. ¡°Mr. Corti¡ªthe one we owe¡ªgave us a job. If we help him recover two debts, our debt¡¯s wiped clean, plus we get some perks.¡± He patted the car. ¡°This is part of the deal. I need four volunteers to come with me. Who¡¯s in?¡± Elvin stepped forward immediately. ¡°I¡¯m going.¡± Ethan thumped his chest. ¡°Me too. I owe you.¡± Mello was about to volunteer, but Lance stopped him. ¡°You should stay here. You¡¯re a bit older and better at handling sudden situations calmly.¡± ¡°If anything happens, delay as long as possible. We¡¯ll be back soon.¡± He picked two more from the group, and they climbed in. Ethan sat in the passenger seat, causing the car to sink slightly. Curious, Lance asked, ¡°What¡¯s your weight?¡± Ethan looked sheepish. ¡°One hundred eighty pounds. Though I¡¯ve lost a bit.¡± Elvin chuckled from the backseat, ¡°Don¡¯t listen to him. The scale only goes up to one eighty!¡± Ethan glared, ¡°Shut it, or people might think you¡¯re mute!¡± As they drove, their banter gradually faded. They rolled down the windows, letting the hot, dry wind in. Their first target was Kandler, an insurance company employee who had borrowed a thousand dollars from Alberto and was overdue on repayment. Word had it he was planning to skip town. ¡°Are we gonna rough him up?¡± Ethan asked as they neared the destination. Lance, eyes on the road, replied without looking back, ¡°Depends on how cooperative he is¡­¡± Chapter 17: Everyone’s Just Trying to Survive Chapter 17: Everyone¡¯s Just Trying to SurviveThe apartment was in the city¡¯s central ring. In Jingang City, there were two main hotspots: the city center, where high-end hotels, restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and casinos attracted crowds, and the port area, catering to the working class with affordable entertainment. Whereas a private show at a downtown strip bar cost at least fifty dollars for thirty minutes, similar services at a lively port bar only cost ten dollars, with an extra five for an additional "hands-on" experience. This wasn¡¯t technically illegal; according to Federation law, specific ¡°actions¡± had to occur for something to qualify as illicit. For the sailors, hard-earned money was spent with ease, while the girls worked openly, earning a decent living without shame. Outside of these busy areas, other parts of the city were quiet, meaning rent was more affordable. Eyeing the apartment building, Lance began laying out the plan before they even got out of the car. ¡°Elvin, you and¡­ (Friend A), stay outside. Watch for anyone leaving the building, especially our guy. If he bolts, stop him¡ªthere¡¯s a crowbar in the trunk.¡± ¡°Ethan, you and¡­ (Friend B) come up with me. Your job is to keep the door secure and chase off onlookers.¡± ¡°Remember, look intimidating,¡± Lance added. ¡°If this job goes smoothly, I¡¯ll ask Mr. Corti to throw in some bonuses. This work¡¯s legal, and it pays faster than a regular job.¡± He gave Elvin a reassuring pat on the shoulder. ¡°Hold down the fort¡ªit¡¯s not as easy as it sounds.¡± Elvin chuckled, ¡°No need to comfort me. I know my job.¡± Lance gave him a playful punch, then grabbed the baseball bat from the trunk and headed toward the building with Ethan and the other friend. As they entered, the middle-aged security guard at the lobby desk hesitated, unsure if he should do his job. Lance made the decision easier¡ªhe lifted the bat, and the guard quickly raised his hands, staying seated. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything, sir.¡± S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lance nodded toward Ethan, signaling him to call the elevator. ¡°We¡¯re just here for someone. Nothing in the building will get damaged, and if we break anything, leave a bill, and I¡¯ll settle it. But don¡¯t do anything beyond what I tell you.¡± ¡°A thirty-dollar job isn¡¯t worth dying for a capitalist,¡± Lance added. The guard seemed thoughtful and nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right, sir.¡± Lance lowered the bat, and the three of them stepped into the elevator, pressing ¡°4.¡± The rattling old elevator always made Lance a bit uneasy, and Ethan¡¯s slight trembling could have been excitement or fear. The other friend seemed more thrilled. ¡°Will I need to fight?¡± ¡°Should I go for his jaw or his¡­ you know?¡± ¡°If I break his head open, will we get in trouble?¡± Lance rolled his eyes. ¡°Just watch what I do. Don¡¯t touch him unless I say so.¡± They reached the fourth floor and stopped outside the apartment. Lance knocked loudly. ¡°Anybody home?¡± Silence. But Lance could hear footsteps inside¡ªclearly, the occupant wasn¡¯t planning to answer. Switching tactics, he pounded harder. ¡°Hey! You didn¡¯t pay this month¡¯s cleaning fee! Open up, or I¡¯ll lock you out, you freeloader!¡± Ethan and the other friend exchanged astonished glances as the footsteps inside got closer. ¡°Damn it, I already paid the cleaning fee!¡± The door swung open, but instead of seeing a guard or the manager, White, the debtor, found himself face-to-face with Lance. R¨¢??????????? Realizing the trap, White tried to slam the door shut, but Lance was quicker. He shoved the door open, and White grabbed anything nearby¡ªa green moldy fish tank, a vase, books, and other objects¡ªand threw them at Lance. Lance dodged as best as he could until he got close enough, landing a solid bat strike on White¡¯s back. White hit the floor with a thud, letting out a howl as Lance shook his shoulders and stepped forward. White¡¯s cries caught the attention of neighboring tenants. Lance turned to Ethan and the other friend, ¡°Tell them to get back in their rooms. If anything comes up, shout for me¡ªI need a word with Mr. White.¡± With that, he shut the door, muffling the sound of White¡¯s screams. The bystanders, seeing Ethan¡¯s scowl, quickly retreated into their apartments. In a place like this, nobody cared if their neighbor was in trouble¡ªas long as it didn¡¯t affect them. Inside, White lay on the floor, moaning. Lance lit a cigarette, ignoring the pungent smell of fish tank water now soaking his clothes and the cut on his arm from broken glass. With a menacing look, he approached White, who crawled back in terror. ¡°I don¡¯t know you!¡± White stammered, inching back four or five feet. Lance held up the contract. ¡°Thirty-five hundred. Remember?¡± White¡¯s eyes darted away. ¡°I was forced to sign that! I can¡¯t pay it back!¡± Lance glanced at the contract. ¡°But you had no problem taking that thousand, did you?¡± ¡°Mr. White, I don¡¯t work directly for the Finance Company. They pay me to settle debts. If you have a problem with the contract, sue them.¡± ¡°But don¡¯t let your issues keep me and my friends from eating.¡± ¡°I¡¯m giving you a choice. Cooperate, and I¡¯ll leave with thirty-five hundred, and you stay here. If you don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯ll take you with me.¡± ¡°Mr. Corti told me that even if I don¡¯t collect the money, I need to bring you back. The big shots sometimes care more about respect than cash.¡± ¡°If I take you to them, I can¡¯t guarantee you¡¯ll survive or escape without lasting damage.¡± ¡°So, tell me¡ªwhat¡¯s it gonna be, Mr. White?¡± White looked petrified. He¡¯d owed the debt for two years, and Alberto had long stopped charging interest. He knew guys like White wouldn¡¯t care if interest piled tenfold¡ªthey never planned to repay from the start. People who took high-interest loans signed without a second thought, knowing repayment was unlikely. Many borrowers harbored delusions, believing collectors wouldn¡¯t go so far for just a little money. Seeing White¡¯s hesitation, Lance held the bat in both hands, raising it high. White¡¯s face turned white as he cried out, his voice breaking. ¡°I don¡¯t have it!¡± ¡°Liar!¡± Lance roared, bringing the bat down on White¡¯s thigh. There was a sickening crunch as White¡¯s thighbone cracked, sending him rolling on the floor in agony, nose dripping. Lance watched him writhe, then glanced at the kitchen and fetched a dinner knife, intensifying White¡¯s terror. ¡°I¡¯m an Imperial¡ªan undocumented immigrant,¡± Lance said. ¡°If Immigration drags me back, I¡¯d rather take my chances with murder. Are you prepared to die, Mr. White?¡± Watching Lance spread out a bedsheet on the floor, White¡¯s body trembled uncontrollably; even his fractured leg seemed to hurt less as panic took over. ¡°On the balcony¡­ in the flowerpot!¡± he finally screamed, breaking down. ¡°Get out of here! I¡¯m going to sue you!¡± Lance smirked, ¡°That¡¯s your right, Mr. White.¡± On the balcony, Lance smashed the pots and found two packets wrapped in brown paper¡ªfive thousand in total. Hello readers! BOTI Translator Team here. If you enjoyed today¡¯s chapter, please leave a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates. Your support matters! Chapter 18: First Earnings Chapter 18: First EarningsThe chips were new, round, and smooth, with denominations of twenty, fifty, and a hundred. Lance wasn¡¯t entirely sure if they could be considered cash. He told Ethan to keep an eye on Mr. White and took two chips downstairs to a payphone, dialing the number Fordis had given him. Soon, the receptionist¡¯s sweet voice came through, ¡°Thank you for calling Lianzu Finance. How may we help you?¡± Lance could imagine her speaking in a disinterested tone while doing something unrelated. ¡°It¡¯s Lance. I need to speak with Mr. Corti, or Fordis would do.¡± Recognizing Lance, her tone shifted sharply, and she shouted, ¡°Fordis, phone for you!¡± Heavy footsteps approached, and soon Fordis¡¯s voice was on the line. ¡°Having trouble?¡± he asked. Fordis assumed Lance¡¯s call meant things hadn¡¯t gone smoothly. Maybe Mr. White was missing, or simply refusing to pay up. He¡¯d seen plenty of first-timers run into these issues before. But he was wrong. ¡°Mr. White agreed to pay, but only with chips. I¡¯m not sure if they¡¯re worth the full amount.¡± Lance described the chips¡¯ appearance and the small print on the back: ¡°It says ¡®Kodak Family¡¯ on them.¡± Fordis laughed, ¡°No problem at all. Kodak Family chips can be cashed in at their counters with no proof needed.¡± He paused, curiosity getting the best of him. ¡°How¡¯d you get him to pay up?¡± The company had sent people after this debt before, but they hadn¡¯t managed to collect. Otherwise, Lance wouldn¡¯t have been assigned to the case. ¡°I reasoned with him. Mr. White¡¯s a reasonable guy, so he agreed to settle the debt.¡± ¡°Do I need to give him a receipt or the contract back?¡± ¡°No need, Lance. Bring the chips and contract back here. The company has people to handle the follow-up. Don¡¯t steal their job.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll pass the good news on to the boss. Quick work¡ªyou might just surprise us all!¡± Hanging up, Lance returned upstairs and, in front of Mr. White, counted out thirty-five hundred dollars in chips. ¡°This is what you owe the company, so I¡¯m taking it.¡± He glanced at the remaining chips. ¡°The rest is yours. I¡¯m only taking what¡¯s due, and I despise rumors¡ªunderstand?¡± ??????§à?????? Sitting slumped on the couch, Mr. White nodded, looking defeated. ¡°Yes, I understand. I won¡¯t say anything.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Lance handed the paper bag of chips to Ethan. ¡°Sorry to have taken up your time, Mr. White. Have a nice day.¡± Mr. White looked anything but happy and was unlikely to enjoy the rest of his day. Leaving the apartment, the three of them headed back to the company in high spirits. On the way, Elvin asked what had happened upstairs, and Friend A and Friend B were buzzing with excitement. Ethan was still giddy, saying, ¡°Just one glare, and they ducked back inside like turtles pulling into their shells!¡± ¡°I thought someone would call the cops or try to stop us, but nothing happened!¡± Lance, steering the car, chimed in. ¡°That means the Federation citizens aren¡¯t as tough as we thought.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re weak and back down to them, they¡¯ll keep pushing you. But if you show you can hurt them and aren¡¯t afraid of their threats, they¡¯re no stronger than anyone else.¡± ¡°So, don¡¯t be scared of the Federation people. They¡¯re just like the cowards we know. If you¡¯re strong, they¡¯re weak.¡± ¡°If you ever find someone won¡¯t back down, it¡¯s not because they¡¯re unafraid¡ªit¡¯s because you¡¯re not fierce enough.¡± The words sank in, a powerful lesson that felt true and proven. Soon they arrived outside the Finance Company, and Lance led them inside, suggesting they rest in the lounge. But seeing the intimidating characters in the lounge, they opted to wait in the hallway instead. In the office, Lance set the paper bag on Alberto¡¯s desk, who opened it and quickly counted the chips, displaying a meticulousness that left no room for error. He counted down to the last fifty-dollar chip. ¡°Thirty-five hundred¡ªperfect!¡± he confirmed, looking at Lance with a nod. ¡°The White I know isn¡¯t exactly a reasonable man. Mind telling me how you convinced him?¡± Lance settled into the chair across from him, looking relaxed. ¡°We started by talking about the Jingang City Sailors. Turns out he¡¯s a baseball fan, too. Then we chatted about cooking.¡± ¡°We found common ground, so communication got easier. I asked him where the money was, and he told me, ¡®In the flower pot.¡¯ Simple as that.¡± Alberto laughed heartily. ¡°I bet he never wants to see you again!¡± He paused, then pulled out three fifty-dollar chips from the stack, pushing them toward Lance. ¡°Here¡¯s your share.¡± Alberto knew White had the money; his own casino staff kept tabs on high-rollers. Gamblers rarely bargained over interest or repayment terms but only cared about getting enough chips to return to the table. Rumor had it White had recently won over four thousand dollars at the Kodak Family casino, an amount equivalent to a hundred months¡¯ pay for a regular worker. The Finance Company¡¯s initial attempts to collect had failed because White wasn¡¯t liquid, but Alberto always believed that with enough persistence, he¡¯d get the money back. He hadn¡¯t expected it to happen so quickly¡ªLance had accomplished it in half a day. ¡°I¡¯m excited about your next job, Lance,¡± Alberto said after a pause. ¡°We usually reward our agents five percent, and you¡¯ve earned it here. But this next task might be trickier than White¡¯s case.¡± Alberto explained the second ¡°job.¡± ¡°Mr. Anderson runs a restaurant in the Bay Area. Last year, he hit a rough patch financially and came to me for help.¡± ¡°Now, he denies ever signing a contract, refuses to pay interest or repay the principal, and has even sued us.¡± ¡°If we approach him directly or harm him, he¡¯ll file charges. Our lawyer says there¡¯s a high chance we¡¯d lose.¡± ¡°So this one¡¯s different from White¡¯s. You can¡¯t use force. Understand?¡± S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°You can¡¯t hurt him¡ªnot even threaten him. You¡¯ll need to get creative.¡± ¡°If you can solve this, I¡¯ll double your reward.¡± ¡°No matter what you recover from him, I¡¯ll give you ten percent!¡± Alberto held up both hands to emphasize his excitement. Chapter 19: Thinking Smart and Basic Structure Chapter 19: Thinking Smart and Basic StructureAfter discussing the second job, Alberto packed up the chips on his desk, ready for his Kodak Family casino agent to exchange them for cash and return with it. He then placed two twenty-dollar bills on the table, sliding them toward Lance with a firm finger. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Take your friends out for a nice drink, and pick up some clothes. You¡¯re representing the company now as well as yourselves.¡± Alberto could only imagine what they looked like and was relieved Lance hadn¡¯t brought them inside¡ªotherwise, his nose would¡¯ve suffered. Although he¡¯d given Lance a total of $190 that day, this money was technically Lance¡¯s own earnings, and a small investment in his team¡¯s appearance. If Lance could handle Mr. Anderson, more debts would be passed his way, and Alberto sensed that in time, Lance could make a name for himself in Jingang City. Not long after, Lance said his goodbyes to Alberto and returned to the lounge, where his friends were mingling with the company staff. Ethan was in an arm-wrestling match against Fordis, with the room cheering them on and small bets piling up. Both men¡¯s faces were red with strain as the table shook under their effort. Gradually, Ethan¡¯s arm began to falter, and amidst the crowd¡¯s groans, Fordis emerged victorious, happily collecting his modest winnings. He took five dollars from his winnings and handed it to Ethan, clapping him on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ve got potential, Ethan. Stop by anytime, and I¡¯ll take you to the gym. You¡¯ll love the place.¡± Lance shivered at the thought of him and Fordis in muscle-hugging gym attire. ¡°Done with the boss?¡± Fordis asked, nudging Lance. Lance nodded with a grin. ¡°Where¡¯s the Kodak Family casino?¡± ¡°You planning to cash in the chips?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Fordis gave him the address, then added, ¡°The bouncer will check your ID. Just flash him the chips, and if he asks who sent you, give him my name.¡± ¡°The Kodak Family is big in Jingang City¡ªdon¡¯t cause trouble, or nobody can help you.¡± Jingang City had five dominant families. They weren¡¯t political dynasties or coalitions around a big-name mogul; they were powerful clans functioning as organized crime families. The Kodak Family was one of them, and these five families had established the structure of the city¡¯s underworld. Their influence might seem subtle, but underestimating them would be costly. Every year, a third of the oil drums sinking into Angel Lake were courtesy of these families, and another third was indirectly connected to them. Jingang City¡¯s wealth attracted people worldwide, and it was tough to survive here without serious connections. The Kodak Family controlled seventy percent of the city¡¯s casino business, offering private high-stakes games for elites. They weren¡¯t always ¡°good¡± or ¡°bad¡±¡ªtheir legal, licensed casinos were major businesses, and their head was actively involved in charity. Ironically, the Kodak Family pried every last dollar from gamblers, only to funnel funds into charity groups¡­ groups they happened to run. After thoroughly cautioning Lance, Fordis sent him on his way. Back in the car, Ethan said, ¡°You know, I could¡¯ve won.¡± Everyone seemed caught off guard, so Ethan continued, ¡°I just needed to push a bit harder, but I held back.¡± Lance raised an eyebrow. It seemed Ethan was starting to think tactically, or maybe he was just following his gut. ¡°Good choice, Ethan. Winning wasn¡¯t worth making him look bad in front of everyone. His position in the company is solid, and if he¡¯d lost to you publicly, he¡¯d have been embarrassed. You did the right thing.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t mean you should lose face¡ªit¡¯s more about being able to read the situation. That¡¯s more important than winning.¡± The light turned red, and Lance took his foot off the gas, pressing the brake. ¡°Mr. Corti gave me a hundred fifty dollars. For every job we complete, we get five percent of the recovered debt as a bonus.¡± ¡°I plan to rent us a place and give everyone five dollars. Sound fair?¡± Everyone nodded in agreement. They were more than happy with the easy five dollars for a single outing. Elvin had a question, but it wasn¡¯t about the money. ¡°Honestly, the storm drains aren¡¯t bad. Do we really need a place?¡± ¡°Yes, we do.¡± ¡°We need a safe, relaxing place with showers, beds, and storage. The storm drains might be free, but they¡¯re not meant for living. I¡¯m thinking of renting a house in the western outskirts.¡± ?????N?¦Â????? Jingang City was a coastal metropolis, and the prime real estate was along the coast and downtown. The city¡¯s growth pushed east, prioritizing the shoreline, leaving the western edges underdeveloped and affordable for renting or buying. With that explanation, the group had no complaints. Given a choice, nobody would sleep in a storm drain if they could have a bed, despite the coolness of the drains in summer. Since it was already late in the afternoon, Lance decided not to start any new work, opting to buy a ton of food and bring it back to the storm drain. His friends cheered at the sight of all the food, and as Ethan bragged about his role in the debt collection, the others crowded around Lance, eager to join him on the next job. Lance didn¡¯t turn them down. They¡¯d be the backbone of his future, and training them was essential. He also shared his plans for renting a place and how they¡¯d split earnings. Under the new system, thirty percent of the income would go to Lance, thirty percent to a communal account (held by Lance for now), and the remaining forty percent would be split based on individual contributions. This structure established Lance as the core leader and ensured a fair distribution based on work. To earn more, they¡¯d have to work harder. Money lit a fire in his friends, raising morale and rekindling their spirits. The lure of income turned discouragement into excitement, as wealth often does. They discussed plans until nightfall, after which Lance took his leave. Though it was getting late, he had a car. While Jingang City¡¯s nighttime safety was questionable, carjackings were rare, as intercepting a vehicle at night was risky¡ªmost drivers wouldn¡¯t stop and might even speed up. Lance made it back to the bakery without incident. As he walked in, the apprentice, busy mopping the floor, called out without looking up, ¡°Sorry, we¡¯re closed¡­¡± Chapter 20: A Sleepless Night Chapter 20: A Sleepless Night¡°Where¡¯s Johnny?¡± The apprentice rolled his eyes at the familiar, irritating voice and looked up at Lance. ¡°You can¡¯t just call him by his name. You should say ¡®boss¡¯ or ¡®sir!¡¯¡± ¡°And you missed tonight¡¯s peak hours. The boss is furious and says he¡¯s docking your pay¡ªa lot of it!¡± The apprentice smirked, his expression one of petty satisfaction. Though his own life was miserable¡ªover six months in the bakery, and all he¡¯d learned was kneading dough. The chubby boss was meticulous about protecting his recipes. The apprentice knew the basic ingredients but had no idea about proportions or the sequence. His time had been spent laboring over dough, shaping loaves, and putting them in the oven. Beyond that, he¡¯d learned nothing. Despite this, he carried an inexplicable sense of superiority, especially toward Lance. Teasing Lance was his twisted way of finding solace, though ever since his mother¡¯s humiliating visit, his sense of superiority had started to crumble. Still, his habit of mocking Lance persisted. Lance didn¡¯t bother taking the apprentice¡¯s words to heart. Instead, he delivered a verbal punch. ¡°Just because he slept with your mom doesn¡¯t make him your dad. If I were your dad, I¡¯d be disappointed in you¡ªhe hasn¡¯t even earned the title based on frequency!¡± The apprentice froze, stunned by the venomous comeback. Lance walked past him, tossing another barb over his shoulder. ¡°Better mop that floor before he shows up, or your mom might have to pay the price again.¡± The apprentice stood paralyzed, his face first red with rage and then pale. His life was indeed worse than it seemed. Six months at the bakery hadn¡¯t taught him anything useful, and the financial burden on his family was growing. His mother¡¯s recent visit had been a desperate plea to stop paying tuition fees. But the boss had refused, offering instead a degrading deal¡ªmonthly tuition would be waived in exchange for her providing¡­ services. She agreed, ensuring her son could stay, though the situation humiliated them both. The apprentice couldn¡¯t afford to leave now. The sunk costs of his family¡¯s money and sacrifices were too great. He was desperate to learn something useful, to prove their efforts hadn¡¯t been in vain. Lance knocked on the boss¡¯s door, and it opened to reveal Johnny in a tattered undershirt. Upon seeing Lance, his face twisted with anger. ¡°You little worm! Missing peak hours tonight? I¡¯m docking three dollars. And you owe me fifteen already¡ªstarting today, I¡¯m charging you interest¡­¡± Lance cut him off. ¡°I quit.¡± ¡°What did you just say?¡± Johnny¡¯s voice rose. ¡°You¡¯re quitting? Hah!¡± He laughed derisively. ¡°Who else would hire an illegal immigrant? The whole city¡¯s against you Empire thieves and criminals. Nobody will give you a decent job but me!¡± S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Despite his mockery, Lance could see a flicker of unease. ¡°I¡¯ve worked about a week this month, plus last month¡¯s wages. Just pay me twenty dollars, and we¡¯re even,¡± Lance said calmly. Johnny¡¯s voice rose again. ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± Then, dropping to a more conciliatory tone, he continued, ¡°I know you¡¯re upset, Lance, but this is your fault¡­¡± ¡°How about this? I won¡¯t charge you more, and I¡¯ll give you five dollars for last month. Enough to save face with your friends. Let¡¯s not make this harder than it needs to be, okay?¡± ?a??¦¢¦¥? Lance shook his head and walked toward the exit. ¡°You disgust me, Johnny. When we meet again, I hope you still have this attitude.¡± As Lance headed out, Johnny followed, calling after him. ¡°Nobody works harder than you for free! Where am I supposed to find another one like you?¡± The apprentice watched their exchange from the front room. ¡°Get out of my way, you idiot! And mop that floor before bed, or you¡¯re out tomorrow!¡± Johnny barked, shoving past the apprentice. By the time he reached the street, Lance was already in his car. Johnny shouted, ¡°I¡¯ll report you for stealing from me!¡± Lance stared at him through the window, his gaze so calm it sent a chill down Johnny¡¯s spine. He fell silent, and Lance drove off. Johnny stood fuming on the sidewalk, muttering curses and wondering how he¡¯d find a new free worker. Returning to the bakery, he vented his frustration on the apprentice, spewing insults about his intelligence and his mother. Finally, Johnny stormed back to his room. The apprentice, red-eyed, clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, yet he remained silent. Lance found a cheap inn near the docks. One dollar a night, with limited hot water included. The wooden building smelled musty, a common problem for poorly maintained coastal structures. The soft bed felt unfamiliar, but the real challenge came after midnight. The surrounding rooms came alive with noises¡ªmoans and cries that grew louder as if competing. When one room quieted, another began. Lance sighed. Even at this hour, some people carried their burdens through life¡¯s thorny paths, struggling as best they could. Chapter 21: Begin Your Performance Chapter 21: Begin Your PerformanceIn the morning, Lance bought himself a new set of clothes for ten bucks. Instead of having a tailor custom-make something for him, he picked up off-the-rack attire from a street vendor. It didn¡¯t fit perfectly, but to him, it was already great. He then headed to the Kodak Family''s casino in the Bay Area of Jingang City to exchange some chips for cash. Unlike those hidden, underground casinos tucked away from prying eyes, the Kodak Family¡¯s Bay Area casino was the complete opposite. Perched dramatically on the cliffs behind Golden Sand Beach stood a magnificent and dazzling building. Every day, sunlight would hit its reflective walls, causing it to gleam blindingly. At any time the sun was out, the beachgoers below couldn¡¯t help but notice the building¡¯s mirror-like brilliance. Countless complaints had been filed with the city hall about how the structure disturbed visitors on the beach. But for every fine the Kodak Family was supposed to pay, they handed over the exact amount¡ªnot a penny less. However, as for demands to change the exterior, not even a little was ever altered. Under Jingang City¡¯s local laws, after paying the fine, they had up to 100 days to rectify the issue. This essentially allowed them to maintain the status quo by simply paying three fines annually. Over time, everyone grudgingly got used to it. At night, the building transformed into a stunning spectacle, with its lights making it one of Golden Sand Beach¡¯s must-see attractions. Many young people visiting the area made a point to stop by, take a photo, and prove they had been there. Accessing the casino required taking a route from the other side. The entire cliffside area was the private property of the Kodak Family. Lance presented his chips and mentioned Fordis¡¯ name. After a body search to ensure he wasn¡¯t carrying weapons or cameras, he was granted entry. Security in the casino was incredibly tight, with two to three armed guards patrolling every ten to twenty meters. These weren¡¯t static guards; they moved around, significantly enhancing the overall security. When Lance reached the main building, he realized it was far larger and more dazzling up close than it appeared from below the cliffs¡ªtruly splendid. As soon as he entered the hall, he was greeted by a long counter¡ªthe chip exchange desk. Before he could take more than two steps, a bunny girl dressed rather provocatively ran up to him. ¡°Are you here alone, sir?¡± she asked. The bunny girl couldn¡¯t have been older than twenty, and her figure was stunning. As she jogged over, the bounce alone was enough to spark imagination. ?¨¤?????????¨º? Lance smiled and explained, ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m just here to cash in some chips.¡± The bunny girl looked a little disappointed. As part of the casino¡¯s entertainment staff, her earnings depended on players gambling. All she had to do was accompany Lance to gamble, and no matter whether he won or lost, she¡¯d earn a 1% commission from his settlement. This was how all the casino entertainers made their money. On good nights, they could rake in hundreds of bucks. But on unlucky ones, they might only walk away with a few. Despite her disappointment, the bunny girl politely led Lance to the counter and explained his purpose to the staff there. The girl behind the counter placed a velvet-covered cushion on the desk. ¡°Please place your chips here, sir.¡± From top to bottom, everything in the casino gave Lance the impression of being incredibly legitimate. The decor, the service, the attitudes¡ªit all screamed professionalism. Although Lance hadn¡¯t looked around the main hall yet, he could already imagine how grand and luxurious it must be. ¡°Altogether, it¡¯s $150, sir. How would you like your cash denominations?¡± The chips had their own anti-counterfeiting measures, and within Jingang City¡ªand even the entire eastern region of the Federation¡ªno one dared to openly forge them. Producing a small number of fake chips wouldn¡¯t cover the manufacturing costs, and producing them in bulk would inevitably leave traces behind. While the Kodak Family seemed like just a legitimate business running casinos and paying taxes, they were also highly respected in the Federation¡¯s underground circles. This respect wasn¡¯t simply due to their wealth. ¡°Do you have $5 bills?¡± Lance asked. ¡°Yes, sir. Please wait a moment.¡± About two minutes later, the counter girl counted the $150 in $5 bills three times, placed them on the velvet cushion, and weighed them down with what appeared to be a gold token¡ªthough it was likely brass or an alloy. She then presented the tray to Lance with both hands. ¡°Here¡¯s your money, sir. Please count it.¡± Top-notch service always enhances customer satisfaction. Even though Lance hadn¡¯t intended to gamble, he made a mental note to bring someone here someday to experience the ¡°opulence¡± firsthand. After leaving the casino, Lance drove to pick up Elvin, and the two headed straight for Mr. Anderson¡¯s restaurant in the Bay Area. It was lunchtime, and the restaurant was bustling. Seventeen or eighteen tables were fully occupied. The manager guided Lance and Elvin to a small table, and soon a waiter arrived with the menu. The moment Elvin opened the menu, he gasped. He flipped through several pages, struggling to decide. ¡°It¡¯s too expensive!¡± he finally exclaimed. ¡°A six-month-old Green Calf Rib costs $7.98. Add a dinner roll, and that¡¯s another dollar. If we add anything else, this meal for the two of us could easily cost¡­ thirty or forty bucks!¡± ¡°D*mn it! Thirty or forty bucks could buy me a feast at the Braised Beef Stall by the Port!¡± A woman at the neighboring table couldn¡¯t help but chuckle but quickly apologized with an embarrassed expression. The Port was home to many manual laborers, and their demand for meat far exceeded that of the general population. As a result, small stalls and restaurants catering to laborers sprang up around the Port, offering quick and affordable meals. Calling them restaurants was a stretch¡ªthey were more like fast-food joints. Their main offerings were braised beef stew and bone-stripped beef, all cut into small pieces. This meat was cheap¡ªone dollar could buy three pounds. The vendors would cook it in large pots with plenty of soy sauce and a handful of spices, resulting in an aromatic, hearty stew. No matter who walked in, they¡¯d get a big bowl for 60 cents. For 70 cents, they could have unlimited bread to go with it. Of course, the bread wasn¡¯t particularly good¡ªjust filling. Most laborers treated themselves to a meal like this every two or three days, enjoying the satisfaction of eating their fill of meat. Breaking the hard bread into small chunks, soaking it in the rich broth, and devouring it with the meat was an unforgettable pleasure for many. These humble eateries did booming business, packed to the brim every lunchtime. Low prices were their ultimate weapon. Even Elvin had gone a few times and declared it the best food in the world¡ªbar none! Of course, the mention of those meals now was purely out of heartache for the money. Lance ordered two servings of soup, salad, steak with grilled sausages, dinner rolls, and dessert. He didn¡¯t order alcohol since he would be driving later, and both of them were under twenty. The total came to nearly $40, and Elvin¡¯s expression twisted in anguish. Lance, on the other hand, was unfazed. ¡°Someone will cover this bill for us. Just eat.¡± ¡°If anyone¡¯s going to worry about money, it won¡¯t be you.¡± Perhaps Lance¡¯s reassurance helped, as Elvin seemed less distressed. The restaurant was doing excellent business. By 12:30, all the tables were full, and some guests had to leave due to a lack of seating. The entire place exuded vibrant energy. As long as there was money to be made¡ªeven if it wasn¡¯t going directly to the servers or chefs¡ªit was still enough to boost morale. Earning money for the bosses and feeling happy about it was a universal experience across all social classes and ideologies. Not that such shared sentiment held any real meaning. It had to be said that a steak worth nearly $10 was indeed leagues ahead of those braised beef scraps. The carefully crafted sauces elevated the steak into a truly delightful experience. Even Elvin couldn¡¯t bring himself to claim that the steak wasn¡¯t better than the stew¡ªit was just too delicious. When they were almost done eating, Lance pulled a cockroach out of his pocket¡ªa big one¡ªand handed it to Elvin. ¡°Bite it in half,¡± he instructed. Elvin stared at the thumb-sized cockroach in disbelief. ¡°What did you just say?¡± ¡°I said, bite it in half.¡± Elvin looked at the still-wriggling cockroach in his hand, and suddenly the steak didn¡¯t taste so good anymore. ¡°So, this is your plan?¡± Lance nodded. ¡°I need your genuine reaction. Don¡¯t worry¡ªI bought this from a pet store. It¡¯s healthy, clean, and perfectly hygienic.¡± After a long moment of mental preparation, Elvin cursed under his breath, ¡°F,¡± then closed his eyes, stuffed half the cockroach into his mouth, and bit down hard. The woman at the next table was utterly shocked! Next, Lance instructed the gagging Elvin to place half of it in his soup spoon, letting it blend subtly into the thick broth, while the other half was spit onto the table. He then turned to the pale-faced Elvin. ¡°Feel like throwing up?¡± Elvin was honest. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Then what are you waiting for?¡± ¡°Blegh¡­¡± We hope you¡¯re loving the journey! Show your appreciation by rating BOTI Translator Team 5 stars on NovelUpdates. Thanks for being here! ????? S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 22: Independence Costs Four Hundred Bucks Chapter 22: Independence Costs Four Hundred BucksAnderson sat on a chair in the back alley, smoking a cigarette. He enjoyed these brief moments of calm after the rush. For the past two years, business in Jingang City hadn¡¯t been as easy as it seemed. The whole Federation, and even the entire world, knew that Jingang City was crafting an economic miracle. Countless "adventurers" and "gold seekers" came here from all over the globe. The most common arrivals? Illegal immigrants. At this point in time, the Federation had thirty-six states and hundreds of cities. Yet the vast majority of these immigrants chose Jingang City as their destination, which said a lot about the city¡¯s appeal. If not for the thick scent of money wafting through the air, what could have drawn them across oceans to come here? Were they really here to help build the Federation¡¯s infrastructure? No. They all came seeking their own miracles. The massive influx of people from all walks of life had intensified the competition in Jingang City, slashing profits and introducing countless challenges. Last year, Anderson¡¯s restaurant faced a few setbacks. First, his business partner left him, forcing Anderson to spend all his remaining money to buy out the partner''s shares and gain full ownership of the restaurant. Then, his wife suffered an accident and was injured. The insurance company refused to cover her expenses, claiming she had failed to disclose her slightly elevated blood pressure when purchasing the policy. Without proof that her hypertension had developed after she got the insurance, the company argued that her undisclosed condition directly contributed to the accident. Anderson fought them in court but ultimately lost. The most infuriating part? The insurance payout was supposed to be around $8,000. Yet, the company spent over $10,000 fighting him in court just to avoid paying. In the end, not only did Anderson fail to receive compensation, but he also had to cover his wife¡¯s medical bills and legal fees himself. At that point, he was completely out of money. He tried applying for a bank loan, but since he¡¯d just lost a lawsuit, the bank flagged his application as risky. They told him it would take at least a month to process the loan. Anderson couldn¡¯t wait that long. He needed cash immediately to keep the restaurant afloat and cover family expenses. So, he abandoned the bank loan idea. Through a friend, he approached several finance companies. But these greedy hyenas sought to devour his assets, offering just a few thousand bucks in exchange for shares in his restaurant. ??N???s Eventually, he found a company called Fordis Finance. Although their interest rates were slightly high, they didn¡¯t ask for collateral or covet his restaurant. After a year of hard work, the restaurant began to recover. Recently, his new manager suggested a series of marketing strategies that kept the place bustling with customers. Just that morning, Anderson had spent $400 to purchase ad space in Jingang Daily and was planning to rent the shop next door to expand his business. Though he¡¯d received several calls reminding him to repay the principal and stop-accrued interest owed to Fordis, he had no intention of doing so. Expanding the restaurant required money. Marketing required money. Anderson dreamed of living a lavish life in his later years, supported by the restaurant¡¯s success. At this critical moment, he couldn¡¯t afford to entertain Alberto, that money-hungry scumbag. He had only borrowed $2,000, but now they were demanding $5,000 in return. Anderson found the interest rates outrageous and refused to pay. He was even ready to take the matter to court. As his lawyer had assured him, there was no need to worry. Fordis Finance might threaten legal action, but the cost of pursuing a lawsuit would far exceed any potential recovery. And if they tried anything illegal, Anderson could sue them directly and potentially win damages. So, all he needed to do was stall. With his lawyer¡¯s assurances, Anderson had no intention of repaying the $5,000. ¡°I borrowed that money fair and square. Why should I have to pay it back?¡± This mentality is common among those who refuse to repay debts. While contemplating how to negotiate for the property next door, his manager suddenly came rushing in. ¡°Mr. Anderson, there¡¯s been a situation in the restaurant.¡± Anderson turned to him. ¡°Someone¡¯s boots catch fire?¡± He was implying the manager was making too big a fuss, but the manager didn¡¯t have time for jokes. ¡°A customer found a cockroach in their soup. Worse, they bit it in half and spat it everywhere¡­¡± Anderson froze for a moment, then quickly stood up, dropped his cigarette, and hurried into the restaurant. When he arrived, his blood pressure spiked. The sour stench of vomit hung in the air, making it impossible for most customers to continue eating. People crowded around a particular table, whispering amongst themselves. On the table was a pristine white napkin holding two halves of a cockroach. Judging by the pieces, they could easily be reassembled into a whole insect. Anderson had spent his entire life in the restaurant industry. From apprentice to chef, and eventually head chef at a renowned establishment, he had worked his way up. A few years ago, he¡¯d saved enough money to open his own restaurant, where he served as both head chef and owner. To him, this restaurant was more important than life itself. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Having dealt with various restaurant-related crises in his younger years, Anderson knew how to handle situations like this. As he instructed staff to clean up the vomit, he approached Lance, intending to wrap the cockroach pieces in a napkin. But Lance blocked him. ¡°Trying to destroy evidence?¡± The scrutinizing gazes from the crowd made Anderson¡¯s scalp tingle. ¡°I just want to resolve the issue,¡± Anderson said calmly. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, we can discuss this in my office. I¡¯m sure we can come to an agreement.¡± It was obvious he was offering money to settle things quietly, and Lance saw right through it. He raised his voice, ¡°You think I¡¯m trying to extort you?¡± ¡°My friend and I came here to eat, and now there¡¯s a cockroach in our soup. And you think we¡¯re extortionists?¡± ¡°If you truly want to address this, you should do so here, in front of everyone. After all, we might not be the only victims¡ªothers may just not know it yet.¡± Lance¡¯s words caused Anderson¡¯s expression to shift, and the spectators¡¯ faces grew uneasy. If a cockroach had made its way into someone¡¯s soup, could it mean their utensils or food had also been exposed to roaches? Some customers began voicing complaints, demanding the health department be called to inspect the restaurant. A public health scandal could spell disaster for any restaurant¡ªespecially one that had just bought ad space. Though it seemed inevitable that the incident would spread, Anderson still hoped to minimize the damage. He shot a glare at the two young kitchen staff responsible for cleanliness, silently cursing them. Leaning close to his manager, he whispered instructions. The manager then stepped forward to address the crowd. ¡°We deeply apologize for today¡¯s incident. Mr. Anderson has decided that all meals today will be complimentary¡­¡± Meanwhile, Anderson noticed Elvin¡¯s attire. He didn¡¯t look like someone who could afford to dine at such an upscale establishment. This strengthened Anderson¡¯s suspicion that the two were here to cause trouble. With this thought, Anderson even began to doubt whether the cockroach had come from his kitchen. However, now was not the time to debate whether the pair were scammers. He needed to focus on resolving the immediate hygiene and trust crisis. Lowering his voice, Anderson said, ¡°I¡¯ll pay you $100 to end this here.¡± ¡°I know who you are and what you¡¯re trying to do. $100 is generous. Don¡¯t push me.¡± Elvin, still gagging, managed to retort, ¡°$100 can¡¯t buy my integrity!¡± Lance stood silently, showing no intention of compromising. Anderson took a deep breath. ¡°$200. That¡¯s my final offer¡­¡± ¡°$500.¡± ¡°This is blackmail. Extortion! Aren¡¯t you afraid I¡¯ll call the police?¡± Lance patted Elvin¡¯s back and said calmly, ¡°You¡¯re scaring me. Now I don¡¯t even want a single penny¡­¡± Elvin gagged again, even louder this time. Grinding his teeth, Anderson finally relented. ¡°$400.¡± ¡°Deal!¡± Lance stepped aside, and Anderson used the napkin to bundle the cockroach remains, stuffing them into his pocket. Meanwhile, the manager smoothed things over with the other diners. ¡°These two individuals have been incredibly unreasonable,¡± he explained. ¡°They¡¯ve gone far beyond what we expected. But the restaurant sincerely apologizes for today¡¯s events. All meals today are free of charge.¡± He then handed out signed cards to each diner. ¡°Next time you visit, present this card for a complimentary bottle of wine valued at $10,¡± he said. The wine, listed on the menu at $9.99, cost the restaurant less than $5 wholesale. The manager knew that offering a free bottle of wine would likely lead customers to order $20 or more in food, ensuring the restaurant still made a profit. Most diners accepted his explanation, though a few remained skeptical. When they saw the two customers leave with Anderson, they assumed the matter had been resolved. But in truth, it wasn¡¯t over yet¡­ Chapter 23: Tap Water Chapter 23: Tap WaterStanding in the alley next to the restaurant, Mr. Anderson handed Lance the $400, his expression a mixture of cold indifference and disgust. By now, Anderson was convinced that these two were hired to stir up trouble. He had no shortage of ¡°enemies¡± in Jingang City. Alberto, that greedy dog, was certainly one of them. Then there was his former business partner¡ª Recently, the partner had noticed how well the restaurant was doing and reached out two weeks ago, hoping to repurchase the shares he¡¯d sold to Anderson at the original price. Naturally, Anderson had refused. It wouldn¡¯t be surprising if that petty man, who resorted to extortion when facing difficulties, had orchestrated this. And of course, there were rival restaurants in the area. Nobody would complain about having too much business. They¡¯d rather see customers waiting an hour outside their own establishment than going to a competitor¡¯s restaurant and spending less for a full meal. The better his business did, the more likely his competitors would resort to dirty tricks. He needed to figure out who was behind this. ¡°Here¡¯s your money. Let this matter end here¡­¡± Lance counted the final $20 bill, stacked the cash neatly, and slipped it into his pocket. His smile, reflecting the sunlight, was unbearably dazzling. ¡°Of course, Mr. Anderson. We¡¯re people of our word.¡± Anderson sensed there was more to that statement but couldn¡¯t quite pin it down. After some hesitation, he finally asked, ¡°Who sent you?¡± He expected Lance to dodge the question, lie, or spew nonsense. He imagined many possibilities¡ªexcept what Lance actually said. ¡°Two hundred, Mr. Anderson,¡± Lance replied casually. ¡°For $200, I¡¯ll tell you the truth. No haggling.¡± Anderson was so furious he nearly choked. ¡°I¡¯ve never met someone as shameless as you in my life!¡± Lance took a step back and gave a slight bow. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment.¡± ¡°I have other things to do this afternoon. If there¡¯s nothing else, we¡¯ll be leaving.¡± ¡°My poor friend still needs to see a doctor, and I¡¯m not even sure $400 will be enough!¡± Anderson¡¯s temples throbbed as he lowered his voice, seething with anger. He thought Lance was just being greedy, trying to extort even more money. ¡°Listen, you little b. If you dare set foot in my restaurant again, I¡¯ll call the police! I know powerful people who¡¯ll make you regret ever being born!¡± ???¦¯£Â¨¨???? With that, Anderson turned and stormed off¡ªbut only made it a few steps before coming back. His hands trembling with rage, he counted out another $200 and threw it against Lance¡¯s chest. ¡°Now, tell me that son of a bit*h¡¯s name. Right now!¡± Lance quickly counted the money, grinning ear to ear. ¡°Alberto Coti, sir. I currently work for him.¡± ¡°F*ck!¡± Anderson roared as he stormed away. Elvin, looking puzzled, tugged on Lance¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Won¡¯t Mr. Coti be mad that we sold him out?¡± ¡°Sold him out?¡± Lance waggled his finger, taking $60 from the pile and handing it to Elvin. ¡°This isn¡¯t betrayal. If Mr. Coti wants his money back, he has to put enough pressure on Mr. Anderson.¡± ¡°If we didn¡¯t tell him who was behind this, Anderson might blame someone else entirely. In the end, he needs to know exactly who¡¯s causing him grief and where to go to fix it.¡± Lance pocketed the remaining cash, then led Elvin back to the car. The blazing sun hung overhead, scorching everything on the ground. As soon as they opened the car door, a wave of stifling heat poured out, reminding Lance of the oven in a bakery. He frowned, waited a moment, and finally slid into the seat. The black leather upholstery, hot enough to burn, made him wince with discomfort. He rolled down the windows, trying to let in as much outside air as possible. ¡°So¡­ where are we going next?¡± Elvin asked, clearly suffering from the heat as well. Lance started the car, glancing in the rearview mirror. ¡°To find people who want to make some money.¡± The car soon returned to the culvert where they were temporarily staying. Lance had brought some food with him since they hadn¡¯t rented a proper place yet. The culvert, surprisingly cool with its constant draft of air around 10¨C15 degrees, was a stark contrast to the outside heat. Some of the thinner residents even had to wear extra layers. No wonder so many people chose to live in culverts during the summer. When Lance pulled up, the group of companions quickly gathered around. ¡°We made some money today. Mello, when it cools down a bit tonight, take everyone out to buy some clothes.¡± Lance handed Mello $80. With about twenty people in the group, that came to at least $4 per person. ¡°That¡¯s too much. Over by the Port, there¡¯s a second-hand market where you can get a whole outfit for just $1!¡± The Port area had several markets like this, catering to the many poor residents. Most of the clothes sold were either recycled from other regions or outright stolen. There were thieves who specialized in swiping clothes off drying lines¡ªor even stealing them from laundromats. Some were salvaged from dumpsters in middle-class or upscale neighborhoods. The nicer-looking clothes were pricier and usually not affordable for Port residents. The standard offerings were $1 per outfit or 60 cents per piece. Lance shook his head. ¡°No, buy something decent like what I¡¯m wearing. We¡¯re going to be moving in higher circles soon, and we can¡¯t look shabby.¡± sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Mello had no more objections. Although some in the group asked how much Lance had made this time, he merely smiled and didn¡¯t answer. Elvin remained silent as well. ¡°Does anyone know people who are immigrants from the Empire and have legal status here?¡± ¡°We have something to do tomorrow, and it¡¯s a bit risky. Anyone without proper documentation might get into trouble. I need about twenty locals or people with legal immigrant status.¡± The group immediately started chattering. Many people from the Empire had settled in the Federation, and some had even obtained legal status. They had contributed significantly to the Federation¡¯s economic growth. ¡°Little Red Riding Hood¡¯s uncle and brother are legal immigrants. I¡¯ve heard him mention it before.¡± In the Federation, the term ¡°Little Red Riding Hood¡± wasn¡¯t exactly flattering. While it appeared in animated fairy tales and movies, it had a darker connotation. Some predators who preferred younger prey called their victims ¡°Little Red Riding Hoods¡± and themselves the ¡°Big Bad Wolves.¡± This particular ¡°Little Red Riding Hood¡± got his nickname because he looked almost like a girl. At sixteen, he was fair-skinned, slender, and even pretty. On the ship, he¡¯d worn a red baseball cap, which sealed the nickname. Unlike Lance and the other illegal immigrants hoping to settle, Little Red Riding Hood had come to join his uncle. He¡¯d been forced to take a smuggler¡¯s ship because the Emperor had prohibited men from freely leaving the Empire. Without smuggling, there was no way out. In addition to Little Red Riding Hood, a few others provided leads. The internal problems of the Empire had been ongoing for some time, driving waves of people to leave for the Federation. Many now lived in this area. Lance asked for addresses and phone numbers, which he planned to follow up on. The anti-immigrant sentiment in Jingang City hadn¡¯t subsided yet. Although it wasn¡¯t escalating, neither was it improving. Many blamed city hall or the state government for inaction, but in reality, this was simply a political battle at higher levels involving Jingang City. Once the political struggle ended, the city¡¯s stability could return in as little as three days. When it came time to visit Little Red Riding Hood¡¯s family, Lance went alone. He didn¡¯t need a crowd for this task. Their home was in a low-income apartment block not far from the Port. As Lance stepped out of the car, his presence drew attention. It wasn¡¯t common to see someone driving into such a poor area, much less getting out of the car. People stared until Lance entered the building, then turned to gossip. The address led him to the seventh floor of an old apartment building. The elevator reeked of urine, with a puddle in one corner. Spit and crumpled tissues littered the floor, likely to be kicked into the elevator shaft eventually. The entire building smelled faintly of mildew and rot. Reaching the door, Lance adjusted his clothing and knocked. A man in his late thirties opened the door. With clean-shaven features and brown hair, he stood out from the Federation trend of bearded men. His eyes were sharp and wary. ¡°Who are you looking for?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Gerald.¡± ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m from the Empire. You can call me Lance. We met on the ship.¡± The man scrutinized Lance again. Noticing the relatively expensive clothes Lance wore, his wariness lessened slightly. After a pause, he opened the door. ¡°Gerald¡¯s at work. He won¡¯t be back until evening. Come in and have a seat.¡± Lance entered, glancing around. The space was modest and cramped. He set the fruit he¡¯d brought on the table in a visible spot. He knew how to handle interactions with people at this level. ¡°You can call me Bolton. I¡¯ll call you Lance, alright?¡± ¡°Want something to drink?¡± Bolton checked the cabinets and apologized. ¡°Sorry, we only have water.¡± He poured a glass of tap water and set it on the table. ¡°You¡¯re probably new to the Federation and might not know this yet, but the tap water here is safe to drink.¡± ¡°If you taste it carefully, you¡¯ll notice it¡¯s slightly sweet.¡± ¡°The Federation spent decades protecting water quality and perfecting filtration systems. They even add minerals to it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not saying the Empire is bad, but compared to the Federation, we still have a long way to go.¡± Staring at the glass of tap water¡ªlikely lead-contaminated¡ªLance immediately understood what kind of person Bolton was and how to handle him. Chapter 24: The True Treasure in Life Is Growing Together Chapter 24: The True Treasure in Life Is Growing Together"Uncle Bolton, I heard this apartment is owned by you and not rented. Is that true?" Lance glanced at the glass of water on the table, showing no intention of touching it. Mr. Bolton kept waiting expectantly for him to take a sip, ready to confirm his point with something like, "See? Didn¡¯t I tell you? The tap water here is odorless and even sweet!" Lance needed to change the subject, and when he spoke, he chose a topic Mr. Bolton couldn¡¯t ignore. Bolton¡¯s lips curled into an uncontrollable smile. The tension in his facial muscles, meant to keep a serious expression, broke down into a less formal grin. His desire for Lance to validate his claims about the tap water was forgotten. ¡°Gerald told you about that?¡± ¡°It seems you two really are close friends!¡± He took a deep breath, his tone carrying a subtle sense of pride, as if to say, Well, since you¡¯ve found out, I might as well admit it. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. I own this apartment.¡± ¡°You probably don¡¯t know what I went through when I first arrived here. But no matter what, I¡¯ve grown alongside this city, and it has given me its greatest gifts in return.¡± ¡°I bought a home, got married¡ªalthough we divorced later¡ªsecured insurance, and have a work card. I no longer worry about soldiers of the Emperor dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night, handing me a faulty rifle, and forcing me to swear loyalty to the royal family.¡± ¡°All I need to do here is work hard and earn my pay!¡± He chuckled a few times before continuing, ¡°I¡¯m not trying to brag, Lance. This is the Federation Dream. It came into my life, and I hope it can do the same for you.¡± ¡°Work hard, endure, persevere¡ªthis society will reward you for it. If it hasn¡¯t yet, it just means the reward will come later. No matter how late, it will come. This is the Federation!¡± ¡°Put in the effort, and you¡¯ll reap the rewards!¡± he concluded with a fervent expression, like a preacher extolling the virtues of hard work to a group of farmers. It left Lance slightly nauseous. ¡°You truly are an incredible person!¡± Lance replied insincerely, throwing in a compliment that made Bolton burst into hearty laughter. He enjoyed sharing his ¡°success stories¡± and basked in the joy of boasting about his achievements. At that moment, he was thoroughly satisfied. ¡°You can achieve the same. Buy your own property here, build your life, and get your immigration status,¡± Bolton declared. ¡°All you need is to work steadily toward your goals!¡± He paused to wipe away the white flecks of saliva accumulating at the corners of his mouth from talking too much. ¡°By the way, I haven¡¯t asked yet¡ªwhat do you do for work, Lance?¡± Bolton gave Lance a pointed look, scanning him from head to toe as if assessing his outfit, which looked rather expensive. Lance maintained a polite smile. ¡°I work for some locals. It¡¯s not traditional employment. I handle difficult situations for them, and they pay me in return.¡± Bolton¡¯s expression, which had been warm and expressive, suddenly grew less lively. Most ordinary workers, who willingly subjected themselves to the exploitation of capitalists, were not fond of the kind of work Lance described. It represented instability and risk, a far cry from the secure life Bolton valued. ?a??????¨º? The atmosphere grew slightly tense, but it wasn¡¯t entirely Bolton¡¯s fault. Most regular people preferred to avoid any association with underworld affairs. ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Bolton replied perfunctorily, glancing pointedly at the clock hanging on the door to the bedroom, clearly wanting Lance to leave. Feigning obliviousness, Lance continued, ¡°I haven¡¯t been here long, so I¡¯m not too familiar with Jingang City.¡± ¡°Uncle Bolton, since you¡¯ve lived here for so long, you must know the local community well. Could you tell me about the lives of Imperial immigrants in this area?¡± Bolton hesitated, but perhaps out of consideration for Gerald¡¯s friendship with Lance, he eventually relented. ¡°There are about 30,000 Imperial immigrants here with identity cards. The rest¡­ are illegal immigrants.¡± ¡°Those of us with identity cards gather at St. Naya¡¯s Cathedral on weekends.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard of other gathering spots, but I haven¡¯t been to them myself.¡± After a moment¡¯s thought, he added, ¡°Since you¡¯re close with Gerald, here¡¯s some advice: avoid the Camille Gang.¡± When Lance pressed him for details about the Camille Gang, Bolton clammed up. He also indicated that it was getting late and he had work to do, leaving Lance with no choice but to bid him farewell. Although Lance didn¡¯t meet Gerald, he had gained some insight into the lives of Imperial immigrants in the area. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. As for the Camille Gang, Lance wasn¡¯t sure what they were involved in, but he already had a theory: The deadliest wounds often come from the least expected people. People remain wary and cautious around enemies, but when dealing with their own, they lower their guard¡ªleaving an opening to be stabbed right in the heart. Fortunately, the weekend was just a day away. In the meantime, Anderson could stew over whether he wanted to settle his debts. That afternoon, Lance went to the company. Although he had assured Elvin that selling out Mr. Coti wouldn¡¯t be a problem, he still felt the need to inform the man. When Lance arrived, the staff greeted him warmly. Competent individuals are welcomed and valued everywhere, and even the receptionist painting her toenails at the front desk looked up and greeted Lance with a casual ¡°Hi.¡± Fordis wasn¡¯t there, having gone out for work. Lance headed straight to Mr. Coti¡¯s office, where he found him on the phone. To avoid being rude, Lance waited at the door until he was invited in. ¡°Sorry, the call took longer than expected¡ªit¡¯s the end of the month.¡± The second quarter was nearing its close, and the third quarter was approaching. This was a busy period for finance companies and banks, as they scrambled to tidy up their accounts to appease investors and shareholders. Much of the work involved short-term loans¡ªovernight, three-day, five-day, or weekly arrangements¡ªoffering high interest rates. Coti had just finalized a one-week loan. He lent out $200,000, and the borrower would repay $215,000 with interest after seven days. It seemed like a modest profit, but $15,000 for a single week was substantial. The company was reputable, with adequate collateral, and they signed a legally binding loan agreement. In fact, Coti almost hoped the borrower wouldn¡¯t repay, as it would allow him to legally seize their assets through the courts. He was in high spirits. ¡°Sit down. Anderson called me. You did an excellent job,¡± he said, offering Lance a cigarette from a pack. ¡°On the phone, he cursed more filthily than the dirtiest w I¡¯ve ever met. I¡¯m a little annoyed.¡± ¡°I¡¯m debating whether to recover the money or to focus on venting my anger. Lance, what¡¯s your take?¡± Having secured his first job and even prompted Anderson to call him, Lance¡¯s capabilities had already impressed Coti. Curious, Coti wanted to hear Lance¡¯s perspective. Lance barely hesitated before replying, ¡°No one in their right mind turns down money. If I were you, Mr. Coti, I¡¯d take back what¡¯s mine first¡ªthen make sure to vent my frustration.¡± Coti clapped his hands, clearly pleased with Lance¡¯s answer. ¡°You¡¯re right. I won¡¯t say no to money¡­¡± He pondered for a moment before asking, ¡°What¡¯s your follow-up plan?¡± Lance didn¡¯t hold back. ¡°Mr. Anderson cares deeply about his restaurant, so I plan to keep targeting it.¡± Chapter 25: The Empire’s Circle Chapter 25: The Empire¡¯s CircleAlberto crossed one leg over the other as he lit a cigarette. Lowering his head, he inhaled deeply before leaning back and exhaling a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. ¡°So¡­¡± Lance picked up where he left off. ¡°So, I plan to find some locals with legal status¡ªmaybe some homeless folks¡ªpay them a few bucks, and have them dine at Mr. Anderson¡¯s restaurant. Then, I¡¯ll involve a few journalists to frame it as a human-interest piece. Something like... ¡®The Restaurant Most Loved by Homeless People.¡¯¡± Alberto froze for a moment, then slowly nodded in approval. ¡°That¡¯s a brilliant idea, Lance.¡± ¡°No one wants to share a dining space with a bunch of stinky homeless people. It won¡¯t take long before his restaurant¡¯s reputation is ruined.¡± He tapped the desk enthusiastically. ¡°What about using our own people?¡± Lance politely declined. ¡°Mr. Coti, it¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to give our guys something to do, but I¡¯m certain Mr. Anderson will call the police. If we use our own people, it might cause complications.¡± Alberto thought it over seriously before a smile spread across his face. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right, Lance. This is why I admire you so much.¡± ¡°You think and act far beyond your years.¡± He pulled open a drawer, counted out $200, and slid it across the table along with a business card. ¡°I don¡¯t believe in making others spend their own money to get things done for me. Consider this your new budget.¡± ¡°And that card¡ªreach out to the guy on it. We have some dealings with him. See if he can help.¡± ¡°My only demand is to make Anderson furious yet completely helpless. I want him to call me, begging.¡± Lance glanced at the money, then smiled confidently. ¡°You¡¯ll see him raging and groveling, Mr. Coti.¡± --- The next morning, Lance appeared at St. Naya¡¯s Cathedral. On the lawn outside, there were at least 400¨C500 people gathered. While this was far fewer than the 30,000 Imperial immigrants Bolton had mentioned, these individuals represented at least 200 families. Through these families, the influence could reach thousands more, accounting for a significant portion of the legitimate immigrant population. Though the number seemed small, their impact wasn¡¯t. Most of those attending these gatherings were relatively successful. Bolton noticed Lance. Initially, he didn¡¯t plan on interacting with him¡ªhe didn¡¯t particularly like gang-affiliated individuals. But when he saw Lance arrive in a car, Bolton reconsidered. ?????¦­??¨§? He walked over and, speaking loudly enough for others to hear, greeted Lance warmly. ¡°Lance, have you parked your car properly?¡± S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lance, who had been preparing to find a way to break the ice, turned back, puzzled. His car was parked perfectly fine in the lot. But he quickly caught on and responded just as warmly, ¡°Uncle Bolton, I made sure it¡¯s locked.¡± Bolton was pleased with Lance¡¯s reaction. Almost immediately, someone nearby leaned in and said, ¡°Bolton, why not introduce us to this young man? Where are you from, lad?¡± ¡°Balman State,¡± Lance replied, stepping forward to shake the man¡¯s hand. Bolton quickly took over the introductions. ¡°This is Lance, a young man new to the Federation. He currently has a very flexible job.¡± He then introduced the man to Lance. ¡°This is Mr. Jobav, considered a pride of Imperial immigrants in Jingang City!¡± ¡°If you have extra money and want to store it somewhere safer than the Federation banks, with better interest rates, Mr. Jobav is your best choice!¡± ¡°Over 40% of Imperial immigrants trust him with their savings.¡± Hearing this, Lance enthusiastically extended both hands to shake Mr. Jobav¡¯s. ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jobav. Are you a banker?¡± Jobav laughed heartily, retrieving a cigar from an associate and taking a long puff. ¡°Not quite. I just try to do what I can for our people.¡± ¡°With me, you don¡¯t need an immigrant card, a residence permit, or a work card. As long as you¡¯re from the Empire, you can entrust your money to me.¡± His eyes subtly darted toward Lance¡¯s car in the parking lot. Though it was an old model, likely worth only $400¨C$500 from a secondhand dealer, the fact that Lance owned a car at all, paired with his decent attire, marked him as a young man with potential. And who wouldn¡¯t want to expand their network with someone promising? After a brief chat, Jobav excused himself to let others meet Lance. He shook Lance¡¯s hand again before leaving. Soon, other people approached, facilitated by Bolton¡¯s introductions. In the Empire, wealth alone wouldn¡¯t have drawn this much attention. But after years of living in the Federation, many Imperial immigrants at the bottom of the social ladder were desperate for a way up. While Lance¡¯s car wasn¡¯t new, it set him apart from those who arrived on bicycles or buses. Most of those who came to meet Lance were in their 30s and had been in the Federation for 7¨C8 years. Though some hesitated about Lance¡¯s work, most exchanged contact information or business cards with him. Half an hour later, having dealt with these introductions, Lance asked, ¡°Did Gerald come today?¡± He wasn¡¯t keen on continuing as Bolton¡¯s ¡°trophy¡± for social bragging. While he found the bragging childish, he also knew some people couldn¡¯t resist the urge to flaunt their connections. Bolton, who had been enjoying himself thoroughly, replied, ¡°Of course. Youngsters like him don¡¯t enjoy hanging out with us older folks. He¡¯s over by the side lawn¡ªshall I take you?¡± Lance quickly declined, jogging toward the side of the cathedral where the younger crowd had gathered. There, about 40 young men and women were chatting in groups. As Lance approached, Gerald spotted him immediately. ¡°Lance!¡± Gerald shouted, waving his arms excitedly. This drew everyone¡¯s attention toward Lance. ¡°Is that the ¡®best friend¡¯ you were talking about?¡± Gerald¡¯s cousin, Rob, sized up Lance critically. ¡°He¡¯s dressed so old-fashioned¡ªnot at all youthful.¡± Rob¡¯s jealousy was poorly concealed. Most of the group wore outfits costing $2¨C$3, at most $4¨C$5. Lance¡¯s $10+ attire instantly outclassed them. And for people their age, appearing more mature was often a goal, which Lance had clearly achieved. Gerald ran over and gave Lance a warm hug. Lance felt slightly awkward¡ªGerald was so pretty that the hug felt odd. Fortunately, it was brief. Gerald then introduced Lance to his friends. ¡°This is my cousin Rob...¡± ¡°This is my cousin Nancy...¡± ¡°And this is Rob¡¯s girlfriend, Selena...¡± Lance greeted them all warmly, shaking hands as other eyes lingered on him. His demeanor was markedly different, carrying an intangible ¡°toughness¡± that set him apart from the crowd. ¡°Lance, do you have family here?¡± Rob was the first to ask, his jealousy flaring as Selena continued to glance at Lance. ¡°No, I¡¯m alone here,¡± Lance replied casually. Rob¡¯s expression softened slightly. ¡°So, you haven¡¯t obtained permanent residency yet?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± Lance admitted openly. Hearing this, Nancy lost interest. For her, a man without legal status lacked long-term potential. Rob, sensing Selena¡¯s waning interest in Lance, felt his jealousy subside, replaced by a smug sense of superiority. ¡°So, what kind of work do you do?¡± he asked. ¡°I work for a company that assigns me tasks. I complete them and earn commissions based on the job,¡± Lance explained straightforwardly. Rob smirked. ¡°So, a salesperson?¡± ¡°More or less.¡± Rob pressed further. ¡°What do you sell? Maybe we could help you earn more commissions.¡± Lance smiled but didn¡¯t elaborate, prompting Rob to try again. ¡°Does your work even pay well?¡± ¡°Recently, I earned $200 from a single job.¡± Rob fell silent, while Gerald exclaimed in surprise, ¡°That much?¡± ¡°Is it a lot?¡± Lance shrugged. ¡°That was just a small job. You¡¯ll see bigger ones eventually.¡± Rob¡¯s emotions grew complicated, his face reflecting the same inner turmoil. ¡°Look, if you¡¯re not earning much, no one will think less of you.¡± ¡°But if you¡¯re lying just to impress us, that¡¯s not cool at all!¡± ¡°Do you really think an illegal immigrant without legal status can make that much from one job? You should be more grounded¡ª¡± Before Rob could finish, Selena pulled him away, scolding him for his behavior. As Rob walked off, more people approached Lance, eager to meet him... Dear readers, thank you for your support! If you¡¯re enjoying the story, rate BOTI Translator Team 5 stars on NovelUpdates. You¡¯re the best! ?????? Chapter 26: Another Incident Chapter 26: Another Incident¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± In another corner, seven or eight teenagers surrounded a young man in his early twenties, wearing a baseball cap. It was clear that he was the center of this small group. A younger boy whispered, ¡°I heard his name is Lance, an illegal immigrant from Balman State.¡± ¡°He claimed he just finished a job that paid him 200 bucks. That¡¯s why Rob got into a fight with him earlier¡ªso annoying.¡± Balman State wasn¡¯t exactly a prosperous region in the Empire. Its economy was primarily agricultural, and although there were developed cities, they couldn¡¯t compare to the bustling imperial capital. Here in the Empire, most permanent residents who had obtained citizenship came from affluent areas like the capital. Only these individuals could smoothly secure permanent residency and citizenship. So when Lance¡¯s hometown was mentioned, the youngest boy didn¡¯t seem very impressed. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter where he¡¯s from. As long as he¡¯s at odds with Rob, we can be friends.¡± ¡°And about that 200-buck job? We can go hear what he has to say.¡± ¡°Maybe get to know him, too.¡± Rob wasn¡¯t particularly popular around here. He had inherited Mr. Bolton¡¯s shrewdness and snobbishness, but lacked the tact to conceal those traits. He often mocked or ridiculed the poor, people he looked down upon, giving off an air of superiority. Yet, when it came to children from wealthy or socially prominent families, he acted like a lapdog, wagging his tail and saying flattering things. This behavior only made people dislike him more, whether they were the ones he looked down on or the ones he tried to ingratiate himself with. Of course, while people didn¡¯t like Rob, it wasn¡¯t to the extent of outright hatred. They just found him unpleasant, which explained why he was still tolerated here. As the group approached Lance, they overheard him speaking. ¡°I¡¯ve got a job that needs doing, and I¡¯d rather not let anyone else take this opportunity. Naturally, I thought of us first.¡± The young man in the baseball cap interrupted, ¡°Can I ask what kind of job it is?¡± ¡°And how much you¡¯re offering for it?¡± Lance turned to face him¡ªa clean-cut young man, about 1.73 to 1.75 meters tall. In this era, that was considered quite tall. He had a lean build and wore a white shirt, dark trousers, and suspenders. His shoes, though slightly worn, were polished to a shine, and he had a gray baseball cap. ?????¦­????????¨¨???? Lance often wondered why people wore hats in such hot weather. It wasn¡¯t just him; many adults and pedestrians wore hats. Didn¡¯t they feel the heat? Meeting Lance¡¯s gaze, the man in the cap extended his hand. ¡°Ennio, from Dokkan.¡± Lance shook his hand, smiling. ¡°Lance, from Balman State.¡± They quickly let go, and Ennio asked, ¡°I heard you have a good job for us?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°Can you tell us more about it, and how much it pays?¡± The surrounding teenagers were all curious, otherwise, they wouldn¡¯t have gathered around. Even though most of them had permanent residency and citizenship, that didn¡¯t mean they were wealthy or middle class. People like Mr. Bolton, living in cramped apartments in the slums, represented the majority of these immigrants. Bankers like Mr. Jobav were exceptions¡ªperhaps two or three out of tens of thousands. Most people still longed to earn more money. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re familiar with the kind of work I do. Basically, I solve problems for people, and they pay me for it.¡± ¡°I can guarantee it¡¯s not illegal, though there might be minor complications.¡± ¡°This job only takes a day¡ªfrom 10 a.m. to around 8 p.m. No physical labor involved. You¡¯ll just sit in one place without leaving midway.¡± ¡°I¡¯m offering¡­¡± He could feel everyone holding their breath. He raised one hand, spreading his fingers. ¡°Five bucks!¡± A muffled gasp escaped from someone. Earning five bucks in one day? That¡¯s 150 bucks a month! Even Ennio¡¯s breathing grew heavy. He needed money, and there weren¡¯t many people here who didn¡¯t. ¡°How many days can we do this job? And when will we get paid?¡± Seeing more people gathering around, Lance patiently explained, ¡°It¡¯s a one-day gig, but there might be more opportunities in the future.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll get paid right after the job¡ªno delays.¡± ¡°Like I said, this money could go to anyone. Why wouldn¡¯t I offer it to my own brothers first?¡± He glanced at the girls nearby and added with a grin, ¡°And sisters.¡± The girls giggled, finding Lance amusing. It wasn¡¯t common to meet someone who spoke so candidly and cheerfully. Ennio pressed further, ¡°What exactly does the job involve?¡± ¡°Enjoying some food¡­¡± Initially, Lance had considered hiring a few homeless people. But he quickly realized they wouldn¡¯t even get past the restaurant¡¯s manager. Providing them with appropriate clothing would not only increase costs but also fail to achieve the intended goal of annoying Mr. Anderson. It was simpler to hire ordinary people. Giving this job to second-generation immigrants seemed like a better idea. They had legal status, and the task wasn¡¯t illegal¡ªat most, they¡¯d get a scolding. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It also helped Lance build a reputation among immigrants as someone resourceful, achieving multiple goals at once. Soon, enough young people were eager to participate. While earning money was one motivation, most were intrigued by Lance¡¯s plans. --- The next morning, Mr. Anderson was very satisfied with the ingredients he¡¯d prepared. The purpose of recruiting apprentices was simple¡ªto get the most work done for the least pay. Unlike the fat boss Johnny, who not only refused to pay apprentices but made them pay him, Mr. Anderson offered each apprentice a salary of 15 bucks. However, they practically lived in the restaurant, with no days off. Starting at 6 a.m. and working until 10 p.m., they spent nearly every moment working unless the restaurant had no customers. Despite the harsh conditions, many scrambled for the chance to become apprentices. Mr. Anderson himself was a testament to starting as an apprentice and rising to become a restaurant owner. Both the apprentices and their families believed they could learn real skills here and eventually achieve middle-class status like Mr. Anderson. After inspecting the ingredients, it was almost 10 a.m. Weekend lunch hours started a bit later, around noon, and lasted until 2 or 3 p.m. Dinner preparations would then begin at 5 p.m. Every weekend was the restaurant¡¯s most profitable time, and Mr. Anderson hoped to earn even more today for his future expansion plans. At precisely 10 a.m., the manager greeted customers at the door. Mr. Anderson thought it was a bit early, but who cared about the time as long as customers were paying? Soon, a waiter brought in an order. The kitchen staff were ready for a busy day, but when they saw the menu, they were dumbfounded. The total was just 1.99 bucks. A 99-cent breadbasket and a one-dollar mixed salad. The breadbasket contained a pound of bread, enough to fill two or three people. The mixed salad, a best-seller, featured crunchy vegetables and tender shredded meat, tossed in a tangy, sweet sauce¡ªa refreshing appetizer. However, it was rare for someone to order it alone. Upon inquiry, they learned the customer was alone. While it was enough food for one, Mr. Anderson had seen this type before¡ªpeople wanting to experience a high-end restaurant but too broke to afford it. He didn¡¯t comment, simply instructing the staff to maintain the quality of the dishes. No slacking just because the customer spent less. After an early start and a busy peak period, Mr. Anderson felt drowsy. He informed the manager and retreated to the lounge for a quick nap. He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been asleep when loud knocking startled him awake. Sitting up abruptly, he stared blankly for a moment before heading to the door. ¡°Are we short-staffed?¡± he asked, grabbing an apron from the wall. ¡°I¡¯ll help out right away.¡± The manager, however, looked frantic. ¡°There¡¯s trouble out front!¡± Chapter 27: The Second Challenge Chapter 27: The Second ChallengeAnother incident? Mr. Anderson froze for a moment, but then a shiver ran down his spine, and his eyebrows shot up. ¡°That bastard is back again?¡± The manager quickly shook his head, knowing exactly whom Mr. Anderson was referring to. ¡°Not him. I don¡¯t even know how to explain it. You need to see it for yourself!¡± Mr. Anderson yanked off his apron and strode toward the main hall. But the moment he stood in the doorway, he¡­ was stunned. The restaurant was packed, yet at each table, there was only one person seated. The problem? Most of them had ordered no more than three bucks¡¯ worth of food, and many had only spent two. A breadbasket, an appetizer, or maybe a bowl of soup. ¡°I thought they¡¯d leave quickly, so I didn¡¯t bother notifying you,¡± the manager explained, ¡°but they haven¡¯t budged since they came in. Worse, they¡¯re refusing to share tables, and now outside customers are leaving because we have no open seats.¡± Mr. Anderson¡¯s blood pressure surged. The restaurant had 17 tables, which meant they¡¯d make less than 40 bucks for the entire lunchtime service! The restaurant¡¯s daily operating costs exceeded 150 bucks. Even if they were packed during dinner, they¡¯d still lose a significant amount of money today! His temples began throbbing again¡ªa familiar sensation. Struggling to contain his rage, he lowered his voice and hissed, ¡°Call the police. Call them right now. I want every one of these freeloaders thrown into the garbage where they belong!¡± sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Mr. Anderson was something of a local celebrity. His culinary skills were renowned, and the former mayor had once publicly praised his dishes during a visit to the restaurant where Anderson was head chef. In the Federation, fame mattered. The mayor¡¯s endorsement had given Mr. Anderson the confidence to open his own restaurant, believing his cooking skills alone would secure his success. As someone who was highly skilled in his trade, Anderson was used to respect, whether in the kitchen or otherwise. --- Two police cars arrived quickly, with four officers stepping out. Initially, they were on edge, given Mr. Anderson¡¯s frantic and incoherent report, peppered with expletives. They had assumed an attack had occurred. But once inside, they were greeted by a deafening silence. The restaurant was so quiet they could hear their own breathing. ¡°Mr. Anderson, you mentioned someone disrupting your business? Where are they?¡± ¡°Did you see them run off in a certain direction?¡± Mr. Anderson suppressed his fury and pointed toward the diners. ¡°Right there! They¡¯re all working together to ruin my business. Arrest them all! Not a single one is innocent!¡± The officers glanced at the diners¡ªyoung people quietly nibbling on bread. Each bite was small, but they were, in fact, eating. ¡°Have they paid for their food?¡± one officer asked. ¡°They have,¡± the manager confirmed. ¡°Are they causing a disturbance?¡± The manager shook his head. ¡°They¡¯re just sitting at the tables, eating.¡± The officers exchanged glances, their expressions souring. Resting their hands on their belts, they said, ¡°So, you called us here just to mess with us?¡± ??????£Ï?????? Mr. Anderson took a deep breath and explained through gritted teeth, ¡°These people have spent two bucks each and are hogging the tables, blocking other customers. Isn¡¯t that causing trouble?¡± The officers stood in stunned silence for a moment before one replied, ¡°They¡¯ve paid for their food, and you have no rule that specifies how quickly they must eat. Without such a rule posted, how can you demand that they leave in a certain timeframe?¡± ¡°Then what am I supposed to do about these parasites?¡± Mr. Anderson fumed. The officer adjusted his hat. ¡°Honestly, there¡¯s not much you can do. They haven¡¯t broken any laws, haven¡¯t refused to pay, and are simply eating slowly. There¡¯s no law against that.¡± ¡°And just so you know,¡± the officer added, lowering his voice, ¡°if you try to forcibly remove them before they finish their meals, you might face legal trouble yourself.¡± Pulling Mr. Anderson aside, the officer continued, ¡°I can try intimidating them, but there¡¯s a chance it won¡¯t work. If the department finds out I bent the rules, it¡¯ll be my neck on the line.¡± The officer¡¯s greedy stare was unmistakable, one Mr. Anderson had encountered many times before. Swearing internally at the corrupt system, he reluctantly pulled two five-dollar bills from his pocket and handed them to the officer discreetly. ¡°Not enough. We brought two cars.¡± Glaring at him, Mr. Anderson begrudgingly added another ten bucks. Finally, the officer smiled. ¡°Even if they punish me for bending the rules, I believe my family won¡¯t go hungry. You¡¯re a good man, Mr. Anderson!¡± He straightened his hat and approached one of the tables, sitting across from a visibly nervous young man. The officer leaned in, his gaze predatory. ¡°You know these people?¡± The young man shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know them.¡± ¡°I know someone put you up to this. If you don¡¯t want to spend time in jail, you¡¯d better tell me the truth.¡± Though nervous, the young man remained calm. Lance had prepared them for this exact scenario and taught them how to respond. Seeing the youth remain composed, the officer grew frustrated. ¡°Are you an Imperial citizen?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Show me your permanent residency card. I think you¡¯re an illegal immigrant.¡± Who carries that around all the time? But the young man retrieved his card, and the officer, inspecting it, realized it was legitimate. Now, the officer was certain this was organized. But the potential risk involved in unraveling this mess wasn¡¯t worth it. Still, he¡¯d taken money, so he needed to do something. ¡°This card might be fake. You¡¯ll need to come with me for verification,¡± he finally said. The young man didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Do you have a summons or arrest warrant? If you insist on taking me, I¡¯d like to call my lawyer first.¡± The officer¡¯s casual smirk vanished. Placing the card back on the table, he glared at the young man before standing and walking away. Returning to Mr. Anderson, the officer whispered, ¡°They¡¯re prepared. My advice? Close the restaurant for now, if you can.¡± Without waiting for a reply, the officer exited the restaurant with his colleagues. --- That evening, after the young diners finally left, Mr. Anderson stepped out, only to witness something that made his eyes nearly pop out of his head. Across the street, Lance was shaking hands, hugging the youths, and handing each of them five bucks! That scoundrel! He knew it¡ªit was all Lance¡¯s doing! Marching forward, Mr. Anderson paused, realizing the dangers of confronting the group late at night. Who knew what these youths might do? As Lance calmly finished distributing the money, he turned to face Mr. Anderson, hands in his pockets, flanked by Ethan and Elvin. ¡°You think I¡¯ll give in?¡± Mr. Anderson shouted, his face flushed. ¡°You little bastard! Neither you nor Alberto will get a single penny from me!¡± Lance smirked, unfazed. ¡°Mr. Anderson, you don¡¯t really think this is over, do you?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got thousands of ways to make every day a new nightmare for you. If you¡¯re set on losing your restaurant and reputation over five thousand bucks, we can keep playing.¡± His calm, confident gaze made Mr. Anderson feel like he was staring at his own defeat. ¡°Looking forward to tomorrow¡¯s challenge?¡± Lance teased. ¡°Care to guess what I¡¯ll do next?¡± Chapter 28: A Smelly Day Chapter 28: A Smelly Day Monday morning, Mr. Anderson was up early, and so were the apprentices, cooks, and waitstaff¡ªhe¡¯d demanded everyone arrive earlier than usual. The previous night, he had hired someone to make a large sign: - Due to high demand, the maximum dining time is two hours. Customers exceeding this limit may be asked to settle their bill and leave. - Single diners may be required to share tables during busy hours. - The restaurant reserves the right to refuse service to suspicious individuals. The sign was prominently displayed at the entrance, and Mr. Anderson kept a watchful eye on it throughout the day. To his relief, Lance didn¡¯t appear, and nothing unusual happened. For most people, Monday was an important day¡ªoffice workers received their weekly assignments, factory employees resumed production lines after a weekend break, and dockworkers busily handled the influx of goods following the weekend¡¯s inventory checks. The restaurant saw only four tables by noon, amounting to less than 60 bucks. While this was a mid-to-high-end restaurant, not all the food was expensive. For example, a breadbasket, a main course (perhaps a simple fish-and-beef combo or a regular steak), and a starter soup would total no more than 10 bucks. Mid-to-high-end restaurants like Mr. Anderson¡¯s allowed diners to spend modestly or extravagantly, depending on their preferences. By evening, business was slightly better, with nine tables bringing in 133 bucks. Calculating gross profits, they had barely broken even, losing around 10 to 20 bucks. Mondays were always like this, so Mr. Anderson wasn¡¯t surprised. Lance¡¯s threats from the previous day seemed like empty boasts. As the day passed without incident, Mr. Anderson let his guard down slightly. What he didn¡¯t know was that Lance, fully aware of Monday¡¯s slower business, had scheduled the ¡°next round¡± for Tuesday. --- On Tuesday morning, Mr. Anderson was up early again. Tuesdays often saw more dining groups¡ªworkers catching up after the weekend, chatting about where they¡¯d gone, and sharing a meal to strengthen bonds. By 11 a.m., the restaurant had a couple of tables occupied, and everything seemed normal. Feeling optimistic, Mr. Anderson grabbed a cloth and gave the sign at the entrance a good wipe. Meanwhile, across the street in a shadowed alley, Lance stood at the corner, watching Mr. Anderson and his restaurant. ¡°It¡¯s that one¡­ the guy cleaning the sign,¡± Lance confirmed, before turning to face the group beside him: a band of homeless individuals. Each of them emitted a strong, unpleasant odor. The previous night, Lance had treated them to a hearty meal¡ªbeef, pork, and refined carbs. These foods, combined with a powerful laxative mixed into their drinks, ensured that what they expelled today would be nothing short of atrocious. This morning, he¡¯d also given them additional watery gruel to maximize the effect. Seeing it was nearly time for the lunchtime rush, Lance handed the first homeless man a cup of water laced with laxatives. ¡°Go to the restaurant¡¯s entrance. Do your business right there. Then head to the alley we agreed upon, where you¡¯ll receive two bucks.¡± ¡°If you make it extra disgusting, I¡¯ll add another dollar,¡± he added, addressing the group. ¡°The same goes for the rest of you¡ªtwo bucks, with a bonus for exceptional performance.¡± The first homeless man, nearly fifty, with matted hair crawling with tiny roaches, grinned. His dark, grimy face made it impossible to discern whether he¡¯d ever been anything but filthy. ?¨¤??B?? ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mr. Lance. I¡¯ll make sure they remember this day every time they eat!¡± He thumped his chest and grinned, revealing his yellowed, rotting teeth. Lance appreciated his enthusiasm. The man downed the laxative in one gulp, then stood quietly. Roughly ten minutes later, he clutched his stomach. ¡°It¡¯s happening, Mr. Lance! I gotta go!¡± Lance handed a second dose to the next man, just as two tables of customers entered the restaurant. --- Mr. Anderson was finally starting to relax. The day felt calm, and he believed it would remain uneventful. He retreated to the break room for a much-needed rest after two days of early mornings, late nights, and stress. Just as he was about to lie down, he heard the manager shouting outside. Startled, Mr. Anderson leaped up and dashed to the entrance. The moment he stepped outside, a horrendous stench nearly knocked him unconscious. Under the scorching sun, the smell was even more unbearable. In front of the restaurant, a homeless man was arguing with the manager while smearing feces onto the freshly cleaned sign. ¡°Why isn¡¯t this being cleaned up?!¡± Mr. Anderson bellowed, gagging as he watched the man smear excrement. He almost vomited on the spot. ¡°Call the police¡­ ugh¡­ call the police!¡± Hearing this, the homeless man bolted, letting out a fart as he fled and leaving another foul pile near the entrance. Across the street, three potential customers paused, took one look at the mess, and crossed over to a different restaurant. Mr. Anderson shouted in fury as the apprentices hauled out buckets of water to clean the area, scrubbing furiously. ¡°It all happened so fast,¡± the manager stammered, trembling as he recounted the incident. ¡°He just ran up, dropped his pants, and then¡­ boom! I thought his guts would explode!¡± Though the area was eventually cleaned, the smell lingered, causing another table of guests to leave. The manager, now visibly anxious, asked, ¡°Do you think this is part of their new trick?¡± Mr. Anderson frowned, unsettled. ¡°Hire a couple more waitstaff to keep an eye out. If another homeless person approaches, don¡¯t let them near¡­¡± Before he could finish, another homeless man sprinted across the street. Like the first, he dropped his pants mid-run. This one, however, turned to face the restaurant, aiming his bare behind directly at them. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Pedestrians were frozen in shock. The apprentice closest to the scene turned slowly before vomiting violently. Mr. Anderson gagged, cursing profusely. ¡°That son of a b! It has to be that scoundrel¡¯s doing!¡± By the end of the day, Mr. Anderson¡¯s patience was stretched thin. He hadn¡¯t seen Lance once but knew in his gut that this chaos was orchestrated by him. Chapter 29: The Stubborn Old Mans Defiance Chapter 29: The Stubborn Old Man''s Defiance A police car slowly cruised down the street, its siren lights rotating lazily as if reluctant to disturb the morning calm. The officer in the passenger seat was munching on a heavily decorated donut¡ªstuffed with strawberry jam, dusted with powdered sugar, and drizzled with honey. It was so sweet it could make someone sick, but the Federation folks loved it. Pairing it with a fizzy soda and a gas-filled belch afterward was the dream for many. ¡°What do you think Anderson¡¯s calling about this time?¡± the officer driving asked while watching the traffic. ¡°Probably those guys showing up again,¡± his partner replied, licking the sticky sugar off his fingers. ¡°He must¡¯ve ticked someone off. I checked yesterday¡ªOld Mac has no clue about this mess.¡± Old Mac¡ªfull name Mack Owen¡ªwas a senior figure in the Doug Family. In Jingang City¡¯s underground, five major families ruled the top of the hierarchy. But they weren¡¯t alone; beneath them were numerous gangs, big and small, managing streets and districts. The Doug Family was one of the three largest gangs in the Bay Area. While they paid quarterly dues to the five families to ensure their operations were sanctioned, they weren¡¯t in the habit of extorting small businesses like Anderson¡¯s restaurant. Some smaller gangs under their wing had approached Anderson for protection fees, but he¡¯d chased them off with insults. Adding to that, Anderson¡¯s connections to certain high-profile figures made the Doug Family hesitant to press the issue. When Old Mac heard about Anderson¡¯s troubles, he wasn¡¯t angry¡ªin fact, he was amused. ¡°That old dog needs to learn a lesson. Paying us isn¡¯t extortion; it¡¯s protection!¡± The officer chuckled, agreeing with Old Mac¡¯s twisted reasoning. After all, he had his own ways of squeezing out a little extra for himself. The driver shrugged, lighting a cigarette. ¡°I don¡¯t care who¡¯s causing him trouble. I just want him to remember¡ªcalling 911 is free, but having us show up isn¡¯t.¡± His partner cackled, taking another bite of his overloaded donut. --- The car pulled up to the curb, just as Anderson came running toward them, panting heavily. The officer in the passenger seat stepped out, ready to greet him, but immediately clamped a hand over his nose. ¡°My God, what¡¯s that smell? Did someone crap their pants?¡± His partner pointed toward the roadside. ¡°Not sure about pants, but they definitely hit the ground.¡± A pale-yellow puddle had dried under the harsh sunlight, leaving behind an unrelenting stench. ¡°They¡¯re back!¡± Anderson gasped between breaths. ¡°The bastards are back!¡± The officer shifted away from the smell. ¡°Back to hog tables again?¡± ¡°No!¡± Anderson barked, his face red with fury. ¡°They¡¯re crapping at my restaurant¡¯s entrance! And it¡¯s diarrhea this time!¡± ¡°F*ck!¡± the officer exclaimed. ¡°Those bds should be drowned in a toilet!¡± His partner frowned, eyebrows raised in disbelief. ¡°So¡­ you called us because someone pooped in front of your restaurant?¡± Anderson stared at him, incredulous. ¡°Why the hell wouldn¡¯t I call you?!¡± The officer pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing as he adjusted to the smell. Humans adapt to stimuli in curves¡ªinitial shock fades quickly, but full tolerance takes much longer. ¡°What exactly do you want us to do about it?¡± ¡°Arrest them! Throw them in jail for public defecation!¡± Anderson shouted. The officer shook his head. ¡°We can¡¯t. At most, we can shoo them away and report it to city management. Public defecation¡¯s a headache for every city. Catching these people doesn¡¯t fix anything; they just go right back to it.¡± ????????£Î??¨º? The Federation prided itself on being a beacon of civilization, but public defecation was shockingly common, even compared to poorer nations. Despite attempts to crack down, the cost of police intervention often outweighed the benefits. Arresting vagrants meant providing them with meals, showers, and sometimes new clothes. Higher-ups hated such inefficiencies, labeling them "stupid pig moves." Anderson¡¯s fury boiled over, days of frustration spilling out. ¡°I gave you twenty bucks!¡± The officer¡¯s face darkened. He hated dealing with difficult citizens like Anderson. His partner, meanwhile, approached from the other side of the car, resting his hand on his holstered gun. He wouldn¡¯t draw it, but the implied threat was usually enough to intimidate. ¡°Want me to refund your twenty bucks?¡± the officer snapped. Realizing his mistake, Anderson stammered, ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t mean that. I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± The officer didn¡¯t reply. Instead, he threw the twenty-dollar bill on the ground, walked back to the car, and radioed in. ¡°GPPD, responding officer. Incident reported as a false alarm. No issues at the scene.¡± After receiving confirmation, he climbed back into the car. Rolling down the window, he glared at Anderson. ¡°File another false report, and I¡¯ll escalate this.¡± ¡°Remember, this is my patrol zone!¡± With that, he floored the gas, driving off. --- Anderson¡¯s manager had been silently observing the exchange, his expression one of quiet resignation. He picked up the twenty-dollar bill from the ground, sighing. Though Anderson¡¯s cooking was unparalleled, his handling of people and business was a disaster. Last year, poor management had nearly forced the restaurant to shut down. It was only after hiring the manager that things began to improve. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Greedy mutts,¡± Anderson muttered, flipping off the departing police car. Turning, he caught sight of the manager. ¡°I¡¯ll file a complaint,¡± Anderson declared. ¡°I have a connection to someone with ties to the precinct chief.¡± The manager raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how much would that favor cost you?¡± he asked. Instead of answering, Anderson dismissed the question. ¡°What else can I do?¡± Sighing, the manager pressed further, ¡°Why are these people targeting us every day?¡± Anderson waved for the staff to resume cleaning and spoke in a low voice. ¡°Last year, I ran out of cash and had to take a loan. The restaurant needed funds, so I borrowed from a loan shark.¡± The manager¡¯s heart sank. ¡°How much?¡± ¡°Two thousand bucks. But they¡¯re demanding five thousand now. I¡¯m not paying!¡± Anderson shouted. ¡°Maybe if you paid, this would stop,¡± the manager suggested. Anderson¡¯s temper flared. ¡°Pay them? Over my dead body!¡± ¡°Let them come! Let them s all they want! We¡¯ll see how much they can produce!¡± Across the street, Lance observed the scene with a grin. Two homeless men nearby were sweating profusely, struggling to hold themselves together. Lance gave them a signal, and they bolted toward the restaurant entrance. Anderson and his manager saw them coming but hesitated to intercept, haunted by memories of apprentices covered in filth. In that brief pause, the two men unleashed another vile mess onto the freshly cleaned ground. And then, as if scripted, two reporters appeared out of nowhere, snapping photos before anyone could react. The manager instinctively gave chase, but the reporters were gone before he could catch up. He stopped, panting heavily, and looked back at the restaurant. His faint hope for a better future now felt like it was sliding into a bottomless abyss. Hello there! Let¡¯s keep the adventure alive. Support BOTI Translator Team with a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates. We¡¯re so grateful for you! ???????? Chapter 30: The Final Strike Chapter 30: The Final StrikeBy midday, the stench still lingered around the restaurant, attracting a crowd of curious onlookers. In the Federation, people never lacked a sense of schadenfreude. Watching someone else face misfortune or humiliation often gave them a strange, inward satisfaction. The restaurant only served three tables during lunch, and those customers left with harsh complaints. The awful smell had ruined their meals, and they vowed never to return. To appease them, the manager waived their bills and handed out wine vouchers to use on their next visit. The manager, ever the marketing expert, understood human nature. Despite their vows never to return, as long as they held those vouchers, they inevitably would. If one thing defined Federation citizens, it was their love for a good bargain. --- Shortly after 1 p.m., the manager decided to close the restaurant for the day. He stationed two apprentices with hoses at the entrance. Their task wasn¡¯t to prevent defecation attempts but to clean up immediately afterward. Why escalate the situation further? Better to let them do their business and minimize the fallout. Inside the break room, Mr. Anderson was slouched in his chair, the ashtray in front of him overflowing with cigarette butts. Though he wasn¡¯t a heavy smoker, the stress of the past few days had pushed him toward it. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A knock on the door interrupted his haze. He glanced up to see the manager, who entered without waiting for an invitation. ¡°We need to talk about your debt,¡± the manager said directly, offering Anderson a cigarette. Anderson¡¯s face darkened, a mix of shame and irritation flashing across it. But before he could respond, the manager pressed on. ¡°If the restaurant can¡¯t operate properly, I¡¯ll resign next week.¡± Anderson¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°I¡¯m grateful for the opportunity you gave me to manage such a fine restaurant,¡± the manager continued, his tone firm. ¡°My job is to make it shine under my leadership. But right now, your personal decisions are directly sabotaging the business. That conflicts with my purpose here.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have enough money to pay off the debt,¡± Anderson said after a long sigh. ¡°It¡¯s almost half a year¡¯s earnings.¡± Since the manager had taken over, the restaurant had started turning a modest profit of four to five thousand dollars. Most of it had gone toward repaying other debts and reinvestments to build the restaurant¡¯s reputation. Anderson had less than two thousand left¡ªfar from enough to pay Alberto¡¯s demands. The manager, well-versed in the restaurant¡¯s finances, softened his voice. ¡°You could mortgage your house to the bank. With the restaurant¡¯s improved performance, the bank will approve a loan. They¡¯ll charge less interest than Alberto, and we could use the leftover funds to expand¡ªmaybe lease the space next door.¡± Anderson¡¯s house, a 200-square-meter standalone property on the city¡¯s outskirts, had been appraised at around $12,000 last year. With proper paperwork, he could secure a loan of $7,000 to $8,500. But Anderson hesitated. The house carried sentimental value¡ªit was where he¡¯d been born, raised, and started his family. Sensing his reluctance, the manager stopped pushing. ¡°It¡¯s just a suggestion, Mr. Anderson. But you need to prepare for the worst. If this continues, you won¡¯t just lose your house. You¡¯ll lose the restaurant, your career, your dreams¡ªeverything.¡± The manager placed a reassuring hand on Anderson¡¯s shoulder before leaving the room. --- Outside, the closed restaurant seemed to deter any further defecation incidents, much to the manager¡¯s relief. The sheer absurdity of the tactic¡ªcrude and childish¡ªwas undeniable, but so was its effectiveness. ?????¦­??????? No one wanted to eat with such sights and smells lingering nearby. Even if they could stomach it, they wouldn¡¯t risk walking through contaminated areas to dine. As the manager stood outside, his eyes caught sight of Lance¡¯s car parked across the street. After sending the apprentices home for the afternoon, he crossed the road to investigate. Inside a nearby caf¨¦, he found Lance calmly reading a newspaper. Hearing footsteps, Lance looked up, set down his paper, and gestured for the manager to sit. ¡°Care for a drink?¡± The manager glanced at the menu. ¡°A classic coffee.¡± Federation-style classic coffee: milk, coffee, and at least two sugar cubes. ¡°I¡¯m trying to convince him to repay the debt,¡± the manager began without preamble. Though the two hadn¡¯t spoken before, their interaction felt surprisingly natural. Lance lit a cigarette and offered one to the manager. ¡°Not going well, I take it?¡± The manager sighed. ¡°He¡¯s too proud. And he doesn¡¯t have the cash.¡± Lance leaned back, exhaling smoke. ¡°Wealth isn¡¯t just about cash. Assets, property¡ªthey all count. He has the means to repay but refuses out of sheer stubbornness. And from what I¡¯ve heard, your efforts have made the restaurant quite profitable these past months.¡± The server arrived with their coffee. The manager thanked them and took a small sip. ¡°Mr. Anderson is an excellent chef, and his apprentices are promising. I¡¯ve simply given people the opportunity to experience his cooking.¡± It was a modest statement, one Lance appreciated. ¡°Ever thought of changing jobs?¡± Lance asked. ¡°I might start a consulting firm soon. I¡¯ll need someone to manage it.¡± ¡°What kind of consulting?¡± ¡°Problem-solving. Lobbying. That sort of thing.¡± The manager¡¯s interest visibly waned. ¡°I have no experience in that field, nor the connections for it. I doubt I¡¯d be much help.¡± Lance didn¡¯t seem bothered, shrugging it off. After a moment of silence, the manager asked, ¡°Are you planning to send more homeless people to disrupt our dinner service tonight?¡± Lance chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°I was, but now I think Mr. Anderson needs a stronger push. I¡¯ll be trying a different approach.¡± Curious, the manager leaned in. ¡°What are you planning?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªI won¡¯t tell Anderson. Like you, I want this resolved quickly. If he decides to act, I¡¯ll keep working here. If not, I¡¯ll leave. Either way, I¡¯m not the one losing out.¡± Lance smirked, leaving the manager unsatisfied but intrigued. --- After the meeting, Lance made a phone call to Alberto. The voice on the other end greeted him with laughter. ¡°Lance! I heard you had people crapping in front of his restaurant. What can I say? It¡¯s disgusting, but it¡¯s effective! I¡¯m impressed.¡± ¡°What do you need this time?¡± Alberto asked. ¡°Mr. Coty,¡± Lance replied, ¡°do you know where I can rent a septic truck?¡± Chapter 31: Home Run Chapter 31: Home Run Hearing the mention of a septic truck, Alberto¡¯s interest was piqued. ¡°Are you planning to flood his restaurant with sewage?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a great idea. Who the hell would eat in a cesspool?¡± Lance shook his head. ¡°I hate to disappoint you, but if we dump sewage in his restaurant, it would be illegal. Fines, cleanup costs, and even a public apology might cost more than what he owes you.¡± Alberto thought for a moment and nodded. Lance had a point. He wanted money and satisfaction, not to pay damages and issue apologies. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan?¡± Lance didn¡¯t reveal much. ¡°If you¡¯re free around 5:30 p.m., come over. I promise he¡¯ll be begging for mercy soon.¡± ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll head over early. Surprise me, Lance!¡± As Alberto prepared to hang up, Lance asked, ¡°Would you be interested in owning a stake in his restaurant?¡± Alberto paused. ¡°The restaurant makes good money, but I know nothing about running one. It¡¯s not really my thing.¡± Seeing no interest, Lance let the matter drop. In truth, the restaurant still had significant potential. --- After hanging up, Lance called the number Alberto had given him. It belonged to a sanitation company contracted to service public toilets in the area. Their job included pumping out waste with septic trucks and transporting it to designated treatment facilities. It wasn¡¯t a glamorous job. In winter, it was tolerable, but in summer, it was a nightmare. Even sitting in the driver¡¯s seat of the truck, away from the hoses, left workers reeking of sewage after just one trip. Most septic trucks operated late at night to avoid the public. Lance arranged a meeting with the truck driver in the shade of a nearby tree. When Lance arrived, the driver greeted him without offering a handshake. ¡°Trust me, you don¡¯t want to shake hands with me. Scientists say we¡¯re covered head to toe in E. coli.¡± He chuckled at his own joke before asking, ¡°So, sir, what can I do for you?¡± Lance glanced at the septic truck. ¡°There¡¯s a job tonight. The company will cover any losses. You trust Mr. Coty, don¡¯t you?¡± The driver nodded. ¡°Of course, Mr. Coty is reliable. What do you need me to do?¡± Lance stepped closer and quietly explained his plan. --- By 4 p.m., Alberto was already impatient. ¡°Where¡¯s that idiot Fordis?¡± he yelled. ¡°Call him and tell him I need him now!¡± Ten minutes later, a sweaty Fordis burst through the door. ¡°Damn this weather! It¡¯s getting hotter every day. What do you need, boss?¡± Alberto, now dressed in light casual attire, turned to him. The Federation¡¯s dress habits were bizarre¡ªpeople wore suits in summer and shorts in the snow, all in the name of fashion. ????????????? Fordis hesitated. ¡°Should I bring a gun?¡± ¡°A gun?¡± Alberto¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Of course! We¡¯re not going to the Presidential Office. Why wouldn¡¯t we bring one?¡± With Fordis driving, Alberto arrived at the caf¨¦ Lance had mentioned. Inside, they found Lance by the window, reading a magazine. Lance stood to greet them and ordered two glasses of iced orange juice. ¡°So,¡± Alberto asked, ¡°what¡¯s the show?¡± Lance glanced at his watch. ¡°Mr. Anderson¡¯s restaurant officially opens at 5:30. Early business is slow, so I¡¯ve scheduled the show for 5:45. By then, nearby businesses will be closing, and people will be looking for dinner. Perfect timing.¡± Alberto shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re the director. Your call.¡± Lance changed the subject. ¡°Mr. Coty, I¡¯ve noticed that Federation law has regulations on usury.¡± Alberto nodded. ¡°And?¡± ¡°So, technically speaking, Mr. Alberto, your business is illegal.¡± Alberto didn¡¯t deny it. ¡°True. Even with a contract, Anderson could default on the principal and interest, and we¡¯d have little recourse beyond making his life miserable.¡± Federation law on loan sharking was nominally in place but poorly enforced. High taxes and rising living costs left people short on cash, leading even banks to offer consumer credit loans to the general public. The economy thrived on overconsumption, and the government, unwilling to rock the boat, turned a blind eye to usury as long as no major scandals or deaths occurred. ¡°Of course,¡± Alberto added, ¡°if he takes us to court, there¡¯s not much we can do. Bringing things into the spotlight forces the government¡¯s hand. They¡¯ll act to preserve the Federation¡¯s image of fairness and justice.¡± Lance filed the information away for future use, sensing potential opportunities. But for now, he focused on the evening¡¯s event. While Alberto and Fordis chatted enthusiastically about the upcoming baseball season, Lance let the conversation flow. Baseball was a favorite pastime, heavily promoted by the government to instill resilience and competitiveness in the population. As the clock neared 5:40, Lance interrupted their discussion. ¡°The show¡¯s about to start, Mr. Coty. You won¡¯t want to miss this.¡± Alberto, intrigued, finished his orange juice and ordered another. ¡°So, what¡¯s going to happen?¡± Across the street, Anderson¡¯s restaurant lit up its neon sign. The animated design made the chef¡¯s frying pan appear to sizzle with movement. The sun was still up, though dimming slightly, creating the perfect backdrop. A septic truck appeared in the distance, rumbling slowly toward the restaurant. Lance smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve arranged for a little traffic accident. A truck will collide with the septic truck, spilling its contents all over the street in front of the restaurant.¡± ¡°Reporters are ready. It¡¯ll be on tomorrow¡¯s front page.¡± ¡°The driver is one of us. This kind of accident isn¡¯t a criminal offense, so no one will be arrested.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve spoken to the driver. Even if the truck tips over, insurance will cover it. Worst-case scenario, repairs won¡¯t exceed 50 bucks.¡± Alberto and Fordis stared at Lance, their awe mingled with a hint of fear. At 5:45, the septic truck reached the restaurant¡¯s corner. From another direction, a cargo truck sped into view and slammed into the side of the septic truck. Already top-heavy, the septic truck toppled. The moment it hit the ground, sewage burst from the partially sealed tank, flooding the street. The mess didn¡¯t stop at the pavement. It splattered the restaurant¡¯s windows, front door, and even inside. A woman screamed in horror, and the street erupted into chaos. Amid the commotion, Alberto could almost hear Anderson shouting, ¡°F*ck!¡± Chapter 32: The Final Straw Chapter 32: The Final StrawThe restaurant manager looked at the feces smeared across the glass walls, the yellow sludge splattered through the front door, and the road outside covered in filth. For a moment, he felt like laughing. But seeing Mr. Anderson¡¯s furious expression, he held it in. He walked over to Mr. Anderson, who was currently busy directing the apprentices in cleaning up the mess. Surprisingly, after the morning¡¯s relentless assaults, the apprentices seemed to have developed a psychological immunity to feces. None gagged, vomited, or even protested. Though clearly disgusted, they donned gloves and began scrubbing the feces off the glass walls. The task wasn¡¯t easy. If a scientist had been present, they might have explained why the waste was so stubbornly stuck to the glass. The high-pressure impact from the septic truck¡¯s collision had caused the feces to hit the glass like bullets. Upon contact, air was expelled, creating a vacuum-like seal between the glass and the fecal matter. To remove it, merely spraying water wasn¡¯t enough. Physical force was required to break the vacuum. And with feces¡­ the more you scrub, the messier it gets. No wonder there were stories of Federation citizens using up an entire roll of toilet paper for one sitting. Mr. Anderson¡¯s face was as dark as the filth he was surrounded by. He cursed incessantly¡ªat the apprentices¡¯ incompetence, at the driver responsible for the accident, and possibly at life itself. ¡°Mr. Anderson¡­¡± Anderson wiped the white foam forming at the corners of his mouth. ¡°What?¡± The manager looked at him seriously. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? This is part of their strategy.¡± Anderson froze. ¡°I¡¯ve considered that, but¡­¡± ¡°No laws were broken,¡± the manager emphasized. ¡°It was an accidental traffic collision. Insurance will cover their costs, maybe just 50 bucks. But for us? We¡¯ll spend hundreds, maybe thousands, trying to recover.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t be long before people start calling us the ¡®Sewage Restaurant.¡¯ Once that label sticks, we¡¯ll lose customers for good. And who knows what they¡¯ll do next?¡± The manager was a sharp man¡ªsomeone who had brought the restaurant back from the brink of failure. He understood that fighting back against this campaign was futile. ¡°Today it¡¯s a septic truck. Tomorrow, who knows? And the day after that?¡± ¡°Forgive me for not siding with you on this, Mr. Anderson. If the loan shark decides not to collect his money and instead keeps funding stunts like this to ruin you, everything you¡¯ve invested in this restaurant will be for nothing.¡± ¡°As long as you keep running this place, you¡¯ll always be at a disadvantage in this fight.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve seen what they¡¯re capable of. I¡¯ve already told you: if you can¡¯t resolve this, I¡¯ll resign at the end of the week.¡± Anderson opened his mouth to respond but found no words. ¡°I respect your determination, Mr. Anderson. I know you have your principles, but I can¡¯t change you. I can only change myself.¡± The manager gave a small smile, patted Anderson on the arm, and went outside to coordinate the cleanup. The mess couldn¡¯t wait for city sanitation. The street needed to look presentable as soon as possible. ??£Î??????£Ó Farther away, reporters snapped photos relentlessly. The manager didn¡¯t bother trying to stop them¡ªwhat would be the point? --- Anderson slumped into a chair, lighting a cigarette and holding his head in his hands. The manager was right. If this continued, no one would dine here anymore. It wasn¡¯t just about the targeted harassment. Customers would fear becoming collateral damage. Who wanted to risk a smashed car window or worse just for a meal? No amount of wine vouchers could lure them back. He turned to watch the manager, now rolling up his sleeves to join the cleanup effort. The apprentices and staff, drenched in sweat, were working tirelessly to scrub the mess off the lawn and the streets. Anderson suddenly felt like he had aged years in a single moment. His once-proud stance faltered, and his back hunched slightly. He had made his decision. Just as he resolved to gather the necessary funds, footsteps echoed from the entrance. Lance entered, covering his nose and mouth in mock disgust. Alberto had wanted to come himself, eager to see Anderson humbled. But Lance had convinced him to wait at the caf¨¦, warning that the stench might ruin his expensive shoes. Lance didn¡¯t mind the smell but knew how to appeal to Alberto¡¯s vanity. As soon as Anderson saw Lance, anger surged through him. Despite his decision to compromise, his blood boiled. He stood abruptly. Lance smiled calmly, unfazed by Anderson¡¯s fury. ¡°Mr. Anderson, looks like you¡¯re in quite a mess.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the biggest mess I¡¯ve ever met!¡± Anderson roared, striding forward to grab Lance by the collar. The cigarette in Anderson¡¯s mouth brushed against Lance¡¯s chest, sending sparks flying. The manager rushed in, barely managing to restrain Anderson. The old man¡¯s strength was remarkable, nearly breaking free. ¡°You can hit me, Mr. Anderson,¡± Lance said evenly. ¡°But have you considered the cost of doing so?¡± He spoke with a calm menace, his tone icy. ¡°I guarantee your restaurant will close, and not just the restaurant. You, your wife, and your family will find yourselves unwelcome anywhere in the Federation.¡± ¡°You might think I¡¯m bluffing, or trying to scare you. Go ahead, test me.¡± ¡°Maybe the next time Angel Lake¡¯s water level rises, people will say it¡¯s connected to you and your family.¡± His words, and the chilling confidence behind them, made Anderson¡¯s raised fist waver. For the first time, Lance¡¯s usual playful demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more unsettling. Anderson finally lowered his hand. The manager, still trying to defuse the situation, offered conciliatory words. Lance adjusted his collar and dusted off the ash marks on his shirt. A small burn hole remained¡ªa reminder of Anderson¡¯s failed defiance. ¡°I wanted to talk this out,¡± Lance said, ¡°but you clearly lack that maturity.¡± ¡°This is your final warning, Mr. Anderson. These past few days were just to show you one thing: you can¡¯t handle the consequences of this fight. We can.¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t settle this, the next steps will be far worse¡ªbeyond my control.¡± The manager quickly interjected, ¡°Mr. Anderson has agreed to repay everything with interest. We¡¯re just short on cash right now.¡± Lance smirked. ¡°We¡¯re all adults. We know what needs to be done.¡± ¡°Mr. Coty extended a helping hand, and you betrayed his goodwill. Get the money, apologize, and everything will go back to normal.¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t¡­ enjoy this brief peace. I promise, it¡¯ll be your last.¡± With a lighthearted smile, Lance added, ¡°Well, that¡¯s all I had to say. This place stinks. I¡¯ll send you the bill for my ruined shirt¡ªcheck your mailbox.¡± Without waiting for a response, Lance left. At the caf¨¦, he recounted everything to Alberto, who was so thrilled he couldn¡¯t sit still. ¡°That was brilliant, Lance! Why don¡¯t you come work for me?¡± It was the first time Alberto officially invited Lance to join him. The plan had been flawless¡ªlegal, cost-efficient, and deeply satisfying. Even if Alberto paid Lance an additional 500 bucks, the entire operation had cost less than $1,000, leaving a hefty profit margin on the $5,000 debt. More importantly, Alberto felt vindicated. For him, satisfaction outweighed the money. But Lance politely declined. ¡°Let¡¯s revisit this later. I¡¯m still figuring out my next steps.¡± Alberto respected his decision. ¡°I understand, Lance. I¡¯ll be waiting.¡± S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. As they parted, Lance assured him, ¡°By tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Anderson will call, begging for your forgiveness.¡± Chapter 33: Officer Brayden Chapter 33: Officer Brayden Early the next morning, Lance picked up a copy of the Jingang Daily. Alberto had bought 50 copies to ensure everyone in his company saw it, including Lance. The front page of the lifestyle section featured a photo taking up nearly a fifth of the page: a restaurant with a septic truck overturned on the roadside, sewage flooding the sidewalk, and the glass walls of the restaurant visibly smeared with waste. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The restaurant¡¯s name was crystal clear in the photo, along with the neon chef sign modeled after Mr. Anderson himself, frying pan in hand. The caption read, "Drunk Driving: A Public Safety Threat," and the article discussed the dangers of drunk driving. Toward the end, it casually mentioned that a restaurant had been affected by an unfortunate incident of sewage flooding, forcing it to close temporarily. While the article focused on public safety, readers were far more interested in the ill-fated restaurant. Everyone in Alberto¡¯s circle knew he¡¯d been furious with Anderson for months. Now, it seemed he¡¯d finally gotten his revenge, and the whole office was delighted. After all, a happy boss meant easier days for everyone¡ªno getting sent out on errands under the blazing midday sun! --- ¡°Boss wants to see you,¡± Fordis said, knocking on the door. Lance, who was playing pool with a few others, put down his cue and turned to his opponent. ¡°Don¡¯t forget the dollar you owe me.¡± Yes, they were playing for money¡ª25 cents per point. After four rounds, Lance had earned a dollar from his opponent, who muttered ¡°bulls¡± under his breath, clearly itching for a rematch. Ignoring him, Lance followed Fordis to the manager¡¯s office. Inside, Alberto was visibly satisfied. ¡°He just called me, groveling, and addressed me as ¡®Mr. Coty.¡¯ He promised to have the $5,000 on my desk by Friday.¡± ¡°Lance, you did an excellent job. Not only did you recover the debt, but you also gave me a much-needed release of frustration. As promised, here¡¯s your payment.¡± Alberto handed Lance a bulging envelope. Lance felt its thickness but didn¡¯t bother counting the cash. It was likely $500 in twenty-dollar bills¡ª25 notes in total. ¡°Your golden reputation, Mr. Coty, ensures my complete trust. I would never jeopardize the bond between us,¡± Lance said, his words dripping with flattery. Alberto, like most, enjoyed being praised. Smiling, he poured two glasses of wine, handing one to Lance. Curious, he asked, ¡°What if I¡¯d shortchanged you?¡± Lance clinked glasses with him. ¡°That¡¯s impossible, Mr. Coty. I refuse to believe you¡¯d think your integrity isn¡¯t worth $500.¡± For a moment, Alberto was confused. Then, realizing it was another compliment, he burst into laughter. ¡°Talking to you is always a pleasure!¡± ¡°So, what¡¯s next for you?¡± Alberto asked. Lance swirled his glass lightly. ¡°First, I¡¯ll rent a house and sort out my immigration status. Being an illegal immigrant is a ticking time bomb¡ªI need to fix it before it becomes a problem.¡± Alberto nodded. ¡°That¡¯s no small task. The Federal Immigration Office only grants permanent residency through a few channels: you¡¯re either a world-renowned scientist, sitting on millions in investment capital, or politically useful to someone in power. Maybe a distant relative of your emperor?¡± Lance smiled but said nothing. Though he lacked those credentials, he had successfully navigated similar challenges before. Law, he believed, was full of loopholes¡ªpatchwork fixes to human flaws. While many revered it as unbreakable, Lance saw opportunities others couldn¡¯t. Alberto noticed Lance¡¯s thoughtful expression but didn¡¯t pry. Whether he succeeded or not would be clear in time. ¡°For now,¡± Alberto said, ¡°I won¡¯t assign you any more work. This cash should let you live comfortably for a while.¡± In less affluent areas, a standalone house could be rented for as little as $10¨C$15 a month. With $500, Lance could live quite lavishly in Jingang City. ???????B????? After another toast, Alberto extended a probing invitation. ¡°I hope we¡¯ll work together again someday. It¡¯s always a pleasure.¡± Lance responded with a polite non-commitment. ¡°If the opportunity arises, I¡¯d be happy to.¡± --- After leaving Alberto¡¯s office, Lance approached Fordis for a small favor. ¡°Do you know any officers who might take on some light work? No danger, just half an hour, and it pays a little extra.¡± Fordis studied him for a moment. ¡°So, this means we¡¯re not coworkers anymore?¡± ¡°There¡¯ll be other chances,¡± Lance reassured him without closing the door completely. Fordis sighed, clearly disappointed. He liked Lance¡ªsharp, tactful, and resourceful. Grabbing a notepad, he jotted down a number and handed it over. ¡°Officer Brayden. We¡¯re on good terms. Call him.¡± Lance tucked the number into his pocket, hugged Fordis, and left. Goodbyes weren¡¯t emotional. Neither of them was that type, and it wasn¡¯t a permanent farewell. --- That afternoon, Lance and Mello scouted rental properties. Mello, more level-headed, spotted issues Lance had overlooked. After visiting several homes, they settled on a three-story standalone house near the city¡¯s outskirts. It featured a private yard and three garages, costing $20 a month. Though a bit pricey, the house was clean and ready to move into. The elderly landlady assured them that all bills were current, so there¡¯d be no unexpected interruptions in water or electricity. Spacious at over 300 square meters, the house could comfortably accommodate Lance¡¯s group of 20 people. While everyone couldn¡¯t have their own rooms, it was a significant upgrade from sleeping under bridges¡ªespecially with recent rumors of nightly "unwanted touches" that had left the group uneasy. Within three days, they moved in, bought new clothes, and furnished the home. Lance even had the group¡¯s two girls bake treats for the neighbors¡ªa gesture to foster goodwill. In a community, good neighborly relations could prevent nuisance calls to the police¡ªa lesson Lance took seriously. --- On Friday, Alberto called Lance to confirm the payment had been received. ¡°Anderson¡¯s completely broken¡ªno fight left in him. He even promised to repay the interest. Of course, I offered him another loan: $10,000 repayable at $22,500 over nine months.¡± Anderson had refused outright. Such terms would wipe out his profits entirely, and he was done dealing with Alberto and Lance. His hatred for them burned strong, even if he¡¯d chosen to submit. --- Later that morning, Lance met Officer Brayden at a small diner within the officer¡¯s patrol zone. As the police car pulled up, Lance recognized Brayden instantly. The officer epitomized the ¡°classic Federal type¡±: reddish-brown hair, a thick mustache, fair skin, and a clean-shaven chin. He wore oversized sunglasses and exuded confidence. Brayden approached the diner, glanced around, and entered with his partner, who stood in the aisle to block the view of onlookers. Relaxed, Brayden ordered a coffee and burger, leaning back against the booth with his legs crossed. ¡°So¡­ what do you need?¡± Lance slid an envelope across the table. ¡°Fordis sent me.¡± Brayden raised an eyebrow and stared at the envelope for a few seconds before picking it up. ¡°What I hate most is knowing I¡¯ll have to count this.¡± He emptied the envelope onto the table¡ªa neat stack of $100 bills. Brayden whistled softly, clearly impressed, before stuffing the money back into the envelope and placing it on the table. ¡°Generous for a first meeting,¡± he remarked. ¡°Lance, was it? Tell me, what¡¯s the issue you need solved?¡± Lance leaned forward. ¡°I have two favors to ask, Officer Brayden. I promise both are completely legal, with no risk or danger to you.¡± Brayden¡¯s expression turned serious. ¡°Go on.¡± ¡°I want to know if there are any slightly impoverished families in Jingang City who lost a child years ago¡ªsomeone about my age now¡­¡± Chapter 34: How Did You Do It? Chapter 34: How Did You Do It? "Families of missing children?" Officer Brayden frowned. "So you¡¯re planning to¡­?" "Give them a child," Lance replied, "healthy, handsome, polite, and willing to pay them $200. Of course, they¡¯d need to keep their mouths shut about the arrangement." Lance didn¡¯t hide his intentions, as he needed Brayden¡¯s help to execute the plan. Brayden¡¯s eyes lit up. "That¡¯s quite the unique business. You shouldn¡¯t share ideas like that so freely." Lance leaned forward slightly. "Consider it a gesture of goodwill, Officer Brayden. I believe the profits from our future collaborations will far exceed this." He shrugged, feigning indifference. Brayden, however, was clearly intrigued. "I¡¯ll keep an eye out. Plenty of kids have gone missing in Jingang City over the years. Matching ages shouldn¡¯t be too hard either. I have to admit, you¡¯re opening up a whole new market!" He pocketed the envelope. "Tomorrow, same time, same place¡ªI¡¯ll have an answer for you!" With that, he drained his coffee, whistling as he walked past the counter. "The kid¡¯s paying for this," he called out. Brayden and his partner exited the restaurant and got into their patrol car. As they drove off, Brayden filled his partner in on the plan. His partner perked up. "How much money could we make from this?" Brayden lit a cigarette, his eyes on the rearview mirror. "Not sure yet. It depends on how much he can negotiate with others, but we can set a baseline." "You know what Jingang City has in abundance?" Brayden¡¯s voice trembled with excitement, as if he¡¯d stumbled upon a gold mine. Before his partner could answer, Brayden floored the gas pedal and exclaimed, "Illegal immigrants! We¡¯ve hit the jackpot!" Lance watched the police car speed away, shaking his head as he returned to his coffee and waffle. The waffle was a chaotic blend of flavors: maple syrup, fruit jam, chocolate shavings, and powdered sugar¡ªa typical Federation-style overload of sweetness. Paired with unsweetened coffee, it was slightly more palatable, but still overwhelmingly rich. Lance only managed to eat about a third before giving up, feeling as if his teeth were screaming in protest. When he went to pay, the shockingly low price made him doubt if the bill had been calculated correctly. The owner only charged him a dollar: 35 cents for two coffees and 65 cents for a waffle and a burger. "Mr. Anderson should see these prices," Lance thought wryly. "He¡¯s the real thief around here." He was confident Brayden would take this matter seriously. The potential business seemed enormous, and Brayden wouldn¡¯t want Lance sharing this lucrative opportunity with anyone else. But in reality, the business wasn¡¯t as promising as it appeared. How many illegal immigrants in Jingang City could save up hundreds of dollars? People like Elvin, who worked on the docks, barely saved three to five dollars a month despite extreme frugality. Even at the high end of savings, they¡¯d need five years to accumulate $300. §²?????????B¨§? While some exceptional cases existed, they were rare¡ªmaybe one in a thousand. This venture was more akin to selling real estate to the homeless. If they could afford homes, they wouldn¡¯t be homeless. --- Saturday morning was a day for gatherings outside St. Naya¡¯s Cathedral. Lance arrived punctually, greeting a few adults before heading to the side area where the younger crowd gathered. The teenagers greeted him warmly. To them, $5 was a significant amount. At Fat Boss¡¯s place, a meal cost just 20 cents. At Mr. Anderson¡¯s restaurant, meals ranged from $20 to $30, sometimes more¡ªan unattainable luxury. With $5, these kids could splurge and have fun for days. Their recent upscale dining experience, complete with free $2 meals, left them with nothing but admiration for Lance. Even Gerald was thrilled. The teenagers¡¯ fondness for Lance elevated his own standing. Of course, not everyone was kindhearted. "Hey, Lance, I¡¯m curious," one of the teens asked with a sly grin, "how much did you make from this gig?" Greed and jealousy are human nature. Someone had calculated that Lance had spent over $100 on them in just one day. Surely, he must have earned much more to afford such generosity. The buzz about Mr. Anderson¡¯s restaurant over the past couple of days only fueled their curiosity. Gerald quickly rebuked the question. "That¡¯s none of your business!" The teen chuckled awkwardly. "I didn¡¯t mean to offend, Gerald. I was just curious. I mean, I made money too, so I was wondering how much Lance earned." Others spoke up in Lance¡¯s defense. "You don¡¯t have to answer that, Lance. We¡¯re just grateful you thought of us when you did." But Lance surprised them by answering. "All together? About $1,000." Gasps erupted. Even Gerald was stunned, blurting out, "That much?!" S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The first teen, his jealousy barely concealed, exclaimed, "A thousand dollars?! I¡¯ve never even seen that much money!" Lance remained calm. "If it shocks you that I made $1,000, wait until you hear this: the person who assigned me the job made at least $2,000." Another round of astonished gasps rippled through the group. "Wow, Lance, will there be more opportunities like this?" Ennio couldn¡¯t resist asking the question on everyone¡¯s mind. "If there¡¯s anything I can do, I¡¯d love to help." The group chimed in eagerly, their voices growing louder. For the chance to earn $5 with minimal effort, who wouldn¡¯t jump at the opportunity? From the main gathering, Mr. Jobav noticed the commotion and turned to see a large group of teens surrounding Lance. Intrigued, he sent an assistant to find out what was happening. The assistant returned shortly, looking bemused. "You won¡¯t believe what I just heard, Mr. Jobav." "Spit it out, or I¡¯ll dock your pay," Jobav replied irritably, disliking the theatrics. The assistant quickly complied. "That young man made over $1,000 from a recent job¡ªand the kids say he spent over $100 on them." Even the assistant seemed incredulous. A thousand dollars was no small sum, even to someone earning above-average wages. Jobav¡¯s curiosity deepened. "How did he manage that?" Chapter 35: A Business Card and the White Family Chapter 35: A Business Card and the White Family ¡°Mr. Jobav wants to talk to you.¡± Lance turned toward the man who had spoken, recognizing him as Mr. Jobav¡¯s assistant. Wrapping up his conversation with the teenagers and leaving them his contact information, Lance followed the assistant. The name "Jobav" carried significant weight among the Empire¡¯s immigrants. Back in the Empire, nobility and power garnered attention. Here, wealth determined prominence, and Jobav, with his considerable fortune, was undeniably in the spotlight. Ironically, much of Jobav¡¯s wealth came from those who admired him¡ªan amusing yet stark reality. Capitalists had long mastered the art of using people¡¯s money to extract even more from them, a strategy Jobav employed effectively. --- ¡°Good morning, Mr. Jobav.¡± The man greeted him warmly. ¡°We¡¯ve already exchanged pleasantries, but I wanted to speak with you because I heard you recently closed quite the lucrative deal.¡± His tone carried both exaggeration and flattery, enough to make most people swell with pride. After all, praise from "the Banker of the Empire" was no small thing. However, Lance¡¯s reaction was measured. ¡°Just a small amount of money,¡± he replied nonchalantly. Jobav¡¯s interest piqued further. Many young men couldn¡¯t resist such praise, but Lance seemed immune, even dismissive of his recent success. With genuine admiration, Jobav continued, ¡°A thousand dollars is no small sum. Apologies for prying, but I heard snippets of your earlier conversation, so I had someone ask around.¡± ¡°Lance, at your age, I was still learning to follow society¡¯s rules, but you¡¯ve already found a way to profit outside those boundaries. You¡¯ve done better than I did.¡± Jobav¡¯s words carried layered meaning. He admired Lance for stepping outside the confines of societal expectations¡ªbe it a poor child destined for menial labor or a privileged youth enjoying life¡¯s comforts. In Jobav¡¯s eyes, breaking free from one¡¯s predetermined path was a rare and admirable trait. Lance had defied expectations and succeeded on his terms. ¡°Moreover,¡± Jobav added, ¡°I¡¯m sensitive to numbers, and $1,000 is no small feat. Would you mind sharing how you earned it? Not to steal your methods, of course, but because I see immense potential in you.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°I want to invest in you.¡± The directness of the offer startled even Lance for a moment. Jobav¡¯s banking empire gave weight to his words. Today¡¯s small investment might yield immeasurable returns tomorrow. ¡°Mr. Jobav, how do you plan to invest in me?¡± Lance asked cautiously, not outright refusing the offer. ¡°I understand you¡¯re building your foundation. I can provide capital¡ªno repayment necessary¡ªto help you set up your framework faster. In return, you¡¯d owe me three favors when I need them in the future.¡± ????????§¦? Lance shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not an investment, Mr. Jobav. That¡¯s speculation. Forgive me, but I must decline.¡± Lance¡¯s response was firm but respectful, underscoring a fundamental difference between investment and speculation. Speculation carried higher risks and demanded even higher returns. ¡°Won¡¯t you at least hear my offer?¡± Jobav pressed, unwilling to give up. When Lance shook his head again, Jobav raised the stakes. ¡°What if I gave you $10,000, and you only owed me two favors in return?¡± Lance smiled faintly. ¡°Mr. Jobav, I believe that in a few years, I¡¯ll be worth far more than that.¡± Jobav chuckled, though slightly disappointed. ¡°Your confidence is one of the qualities I admire most. Confident people are always the most persuasive.¡± After a pause, he softened his approach. ¡°Let¡¯s establish a friendly relationship instead. If you ever need financial assistance, you can come to me.¡± He handed Lance a gold-embossed business card. The front featured the Empire¡¯s national flower, while the back bore Jobav¡¯s name and a phone number: Jobav Schiller. They shook hands before parting. As Jobav¡¯s assistant approached, he asked, ¡°Was the deal successful?¡± Jobav shook his head. ¡°He refused me. He¡¯s very confident, but I gave him my card.¡± The assistant looked incredulous. ¡°You¡¯re the Jobav. Who could refuse you?¡± ¡°Now we know,¡± Jobav replied dryly. --- Returning to the group of teenagers, Lance faced questions about his private conversation with Jobav. Among the Empire¡¯s immigrants, Jobav was an iconic figure, and anything involving him drew attention. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°He gave me a business card,¡± Lance admitted. The group erupted into murmurs and exclamations. Owning one of Jobav¡¯s cards was akin to holding a golden ticket. Rumors swirled that possessing his card granted a "wish," though this was mere speculation. --- After the gathering, Lance left the teenagers to meet Officer Brayden, who had already arrived at the diner and parked outside. Seeing Brayden¡¯s punctuality confirmed Lance¡¯s belief: people are more committed when they feel they¡¯re in control. The diner was nearly empty, save for two elderly patrons at the far end. Brayden sat at a booth, a file folder on the table before him. Lance slid into the seat across from him. ¡°Meet the Whites,¡± Brayden said, tapping the folder. ¡°Mr. White is 42, Mrs. White is 39, and their son, Steven White, went missing 12 years ago when he was five years and seven months old.¡± Opening the folder, Brayden handed Lance the documents inside. The Whites¡¯ photos bore a slight resemblance to Lance¡ªenough to pass casual scrutiny. While scanning the file, Lance asked, ¡°They didn¡¯t try for another child?¡± Brayden smirked. ¡°Oh, they did. Two more, actually. Their second son also went missing, and their third child, a daughter, is about to graduate elementary school.¡± ¡°Is Jingang City¡¯s security really that bad?¡± Lance asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Most missing children cases have nothing to do with public safety,¡± Brayden explained. ¡°Statistics show 80% of cases involve kids running away after arguing with their families. Less than 5% are actual kidnappings.¡± He paused before adding cryptically, ¡°In the Federation, anything can be bought¡ªfor the right price. People with money avoid unnecessary risks.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the Whites¡¯ situation now?¡± Lance asked. ¡°They¡¯re struggling financially. I¡¯d say there¡¯s a high chance they¡¯ll agree to your plan¡­¡± Brayden trailed off, a sly grin spreading across his face. Chapter 36: Substitution Chapter 36: SubstitutionMr. White was a typical middle-aged man of the Federation, carrying an air of gloom about him. His pale complexion made the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced. His unkempt, light brown hair hung messily over his head, and he wore a short-sleeved white shirt that had been washed so many times it was now yellowing. His light blue pants bore the telltale signs of numerous repairs. His wife, Mrs. White, looked ill¡ªtimid and uneasy. She dared not lift her head to meet Lance''s gaze or that of the two officers beside him, keeping her head lowered at all times. Even when Officer Brayden asked them questions, it was always Mr. White who answered. "This gentleman says he has vague memories of getting lost when he was about five or six years old. Someone took him to a carriage and hid him under a pile of hay," Brayden explained. "He was sold to a regular family and worked for them without pay." "Recently, his adoptive father passed away. He now hopes to find his biological parents. I was moved by his desire to return home, so I went through the missing persons reports in Jingang City from that time." "Among them was your report. When I compared his description with your family, there does seem to be a resemblance." Mr. White, his half-closed eyes scrutinizing Lance, nodded. "Yes, he does bear some similarity to me when I was younger. But that doesn''t confirm he''s Steven." "Besides..." Mr. White hesitated before continuing, "As a father, though I don''t want to admit this, I believe my child might already be dead." Despite mentioning the possibility of his son''s demise, Mr. White''s tone lacked sadness. Perhaps his grief had already been consumed by countless moments of sorrow over the years. He stated his beliefs calmly, but Officer Brayden wasn''t ready to accept that. "Mr. White, I understand that suddenly gaining a family member might be hard to accept, but I must mention this¡ªthis child inherited a sum of money from his adoptive father..." These words made Mrs. White glance up at Lance for a brief moment. Her plain face was pallid, and after holding her gaze for three or four seconds, she lowered her head again. Mr. White¡¯s expression shifted subtly. "I''m sorry, but can I ask... how much did you inherit from your adoptive father?" "Two hundred dollars." Two hundred dollars wasn''t an enormous amount in some contexts, but considering the average monthly income of ordinary folks was about thirty-five to forty dollars, it represented about six months of wages. And after paying taxes and covering daily expenses, managing to save ten dollars a month was often a testament to diligent living. Two hundred dollars¡ªnearly two years of savings¡ªmight not mean much to the wealthy, but for a struggling family, it could be transformative. "I¡¯d like to talk with Mr. White alone," Lance requested. Mr. White considered for a moment and agreed. The two moved to the side of the house, which was a standalone structure with a C-shaped yard that included a front, side, and backyard. The backyard was lush with shrubs and some small crimson flowers Lance couldn''t identify. The yard was clean and well-kept, with no fallen leaves in sight. The side yard held an old swing set, clearly aged. Without even sitting on it, Lance could imagine the rusty metal joints creaking noisily when swung. However, being located in the outskirts, the standalone house with its yard wasn¡¯t worth much. "You can tell I¡¯m an Imperial," Lance said bluntly, getting straight to the point. This was a transaction, plain and simple. Mr. White nodded. "Yes, and that¡¯s why I know you¡¯re not Steven. He wasn¡¯t an Imperial." Lance pulled out a pack of filtered cigarettes. At this time, not all cigarettes in the Federation had filters. Tobacco companies denied smoking was a primary cause of lung diseases and even presented ¡°evidence¡± to back their claims¡ªnon-smokers with severe lung issues. This rebutted medical findings linking smoking to lung disease. Still, to ease public concerns, they started adding filters to some cigarettes. These filters were rudimentary, often just compressed cotton, and could make smoking more effortful. Yet, seeing the tar caught in the cotton gave smokers a false sense of security. Filtered cigarettes were also more expensive than unfiltered ones. "Want one?" Lance offered, holding one out. Mr. White hesitated for a few seconds before accepting. Lance lit the cigarette for him, noticing Mr. White''s hand trembling slightly as he held it. "Not much different from the ones we roll ourselves," Mr. White remarked. "The flavor¡¯s weak." Lance smiled but didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he continued, "We were saying I¡¯m an Imperial, and your son Steven was from the Federation." Mr. White nodded. "That¡¯s right." "I currently don¡¯t have a legal identity. I can¡¯t register a company or do what I want to without proper documentation." "Mr. White, I deeply regret and sympathize with what happened to Steven, but life moves forward, and so must we." Mr. White raised his hand to stop him. "Just say what you want to say. My brain doesn¡¯t work well sometimes, and I don¡¯t understand you rich folks'' roundabout way of talking." ??£Î£Ï¦¢¨¨S? Lance wasn¡¯t offended and smiled. "I¡¯d like to use Steven¡¯s identity to register a legal Federation identity for myself." Mr. White took a deep drag from his cigarette, his trembling hand now steadier. After a moment of thought, he replied, "The price is two hundred dollars." S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lance, not wanting to leave room for uncertainty, added, "For no more than two years. After that, I¡¯ll relinquish Steven¡¯s identity, and the police will treat it as an error. Steven¡¯s records will remain his, and I¡¯ll have what I need." Mr. White took another long drag, then, with his hand steadier still, said, "Four hundred." Lance shook his head. "Officer Brayden found over seventy families with children matching the description. Someone will accept two hundred dollars. Right?" Mr. White tried again. "My wife is sick, and my daughter needs money." "Two hundred and twenty." Mr. White finished his cigarette, dropped the butt to the ground, and crushed it underfoot. He extended his rough, calloused hand. "Deal!" After shaking hands, Lance said, "Let¡¯s inform Officer Brayden and complete the paperwork at the station. Any issues?" "For two hundred and twenty dollars, no issues at all!" Returning to the front yard, Lance¡¯s expression showed that the matter was settled. Officer Brayden was visibly pleased. After exchanging a knowing look with Lance, he resumed his duties. "Mr. White, you¡¯ll need to visit the station with me to update your missing person report and sign a couple of documents. Then, it¡¯ll all be done." "I have no problem with that." "Neither do I," Lance added. On the drive to the station, Officer Brayden floored the accelerator, completing the journey in record time. At the station, he retrieved the Whites'' old report and prepared a case closure form. "No one cares about an old missing person case being closed or left open anyway," Brayden remarked. But Lance cared and had stressed the importance of handling the case properly, citing ¡°customer experience.¡± Brayden took note. With everything finalized, Mr. White walked away with two hundred and twenty dollars. Brayden informed Lance that his identity and social security number would be ready within a month. After receiving a fifty-dollar tip from Lance, he promised it would be ready within a week. "Lance, if you send people my way, I¡¯ll cut their fees in half. Consider it my thank-you!" Brayden said with a laugh. Lance didn¡¯t voice his thoughts: Thanks, my . Instead, he shook Brayden¡¯s hand. "You¡¯ve solved a major issue for the President!" Brayden paused, then burst out laughing. "Let¡¯s hope he doesn¡¯t throw me in jail for it!" "Alright, I have other matters to attend to. If you run into trouble in my patrol zone, call the station, and I¡¯ll come right away!" Leaving the station, Lance took a deep breath. The clouds above moved lazily across the sky, mirroring the calm, unhurried mood of the people below. Chapter 37: A New Beginning Chapter 37: A New Beginning It seemed there had been a shift in the political game at the upper echelons of the Federation. On live television, the President finally issued a direct response to the Empire''s accusations against the Federation: "The Federation has never condoned any discrimination against immigrants from the Empire, whether they arrived legally or not!" Previously, the Federation President had avoided responding to these accusations. But this time, he declared that such claims were baseless rumors. Even if isolated incidents existed, they were not political campaigns or events. The Federation, he emphasized, was a highly open, free, tolerant, and inclusive nation, a place welcoming to all peace-loving people from around the world. As for the Empire¡¯s unilateral threat of military action, the President stated firmly that the Federation would not engage with such immoral tactics. However, if the Empire dared to invade Federation territory, they would respond with a fierce counterattack. The President''s impassioned speech, delivered from the podium with fist raised for emphasis, was met with waves of cheers from a densely packed crowd. Television screens echoed with endless streams of political rhetoric, painting a picture of the Federation on the brink of becoming the happiest nation on Earth. After finishing his cigarette, Lance turned off the cabinet-mounted TV and started his car to head back to the house. Alberto hadn¡¯t reclaimed the car, though it was worth no more than two hundred dollars. By all rights, taking it back would have been fair and legal, but he let Lance keep it. In return, Alberto considered it a small price to pay for a favor¡ªa trade that was well worth it. Back at the house, Lance¡¯s companions were sitting in the living room in deep discussion. When he walked in, they all stood up. "Since leaving the Empire, all we have is each other. We¡¯re family, brothers, and sisters. No need for this," Lance said, gesturing for them to sit down as he made his way to Mello. Rather than taking the chair reserved for him, Lance sat cross-legged on the floor with the others, showing no intention of distancing himself, despite being the one who rented the house and solved their survival issues. His decision not to sit on the chair was simple but impactful¡ªsometimes, touching gestures are easy to make, yet they resonate for a lifetime. "What are you discussing?" he asked, glancing at Ethan, who was sitting by the door. "In the car, there are two packs of cigarettes, a few bottles of alcohol, and some snacks. Go grab them for me." Ethan broke into a wide grin, his yellowed teeth showing as he chuckled. Dinner consisted of plain greens mixed with beans and coarse grains¡ªsoybeans, kidney beans, chickpeas, and other cheap legumes. These were typically sold as livestock feed but were edible for humans and far more affordable. Many impoverished families relied on such meals to fill their stomachs. Learning that dinner had been greens and beans, Lance frowned. "Didn¡¯t I tell you to make sure everyone ate better?" He directed the question at Mello, who had been given funds to manage their living expenses. Mello, a bit older and more grounded than the others, handled household affairs reliably but now looked sheepish. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "If we eat bread or anything better, we¡¯ll go through a lot. Since we¡¯re not working right now, there¡¯s no need to eat so well." It was a simple, honest reason. Lance patted Mello¡¯s shoulder, understanding his intent. With twenty or so young adults in their late teens and early twenties, an unrestricted meal could easily consume forty or fifty pounds of food¡ªor more. Even with basic food, a single meal could cost two or three dollars, or up to five. Multiply that by three meals a day, and they¡¯d be spending seven to ten dollars daily. Who could sustain such costs? A three-hundred-dollar monthly food budget was outrageous, especially when they had no income and were burning through reserves. Mello wanted to save money, opting for the cheapest, most filling option. Even Ethan, who usually had a hearty appetite, found himself full after eating less than two pounds of greens and beans. "Don¡¯t worry about work. On my way back, I saw the news. Things will recover soon," Lance assured them. He didn¡¯t elaborate, but he believed his prediction was accurate. For the President, the best response to the Emperor¡¯s provocations was to invoke the "threat of an Imperial invasion," plunging the country into a state of readiness. This would activate presidential privileges and virtually guarantee his re-election. The real question wasn¡¯t whether the President could secure another term¡ªhe likely could¡ªbut what costs he would be willing to incur to make it happen. The unrest in Jingang City was just one small piece of this larger political struggle. The economic engine was stalling, and soon, the forces of capital would step in to broker a compromise. With their coordination, political factions would reach an agreement, and the President would secure his re-election. But for people at the bottom, this high-stakes game was invisible. They only saw the President declaring the Federation¡¯s greatness, which filled them with misplaced excitement and cheers. They had no understanding of why their lives were so chaotic or why a better life always seemed out of reach. ?????¦­?????¦¥? Ethan returned with the supplies, and the group gathered in a circle, placing cigarettes, alcohol, and food within arm¡¯s reach. Lance had brought plenty of fried chicken¡ªa much cheaper option than beef or lamb, thanks to large-scale mechanized livestock farming. One dollar could buy three pieces of fragrant, crispy fried chicken. Who could resist that? Paired with other foods high in sugar and fat, their happiness soared. As they smoked, drank, and chatted, Mello asked a question. "Once all this... commotion settles down, should we go back to working at the docks?" The others turned to Lance. In this small group, he had become their de facto leader. "How much can you earn working a job?" Lance asked. The group remained silent. After covering living expenses and enduring exploitation from bosses, saving three to five dollars a month was the most they could hope for. They all understood that regular jobs weren¡¯t a solution, but they didn¡¯t know what else they could do. Lance lit a cigarette, and Mello immediately struck a match to light it for him. The sharp hiss of the match added a faint, gunpowder-like tang to the room. "I used to work at Johnny¡¯s bakery," Lance began, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. "Even if he didn¡¯t short my pay, I¡¯d only make fifteen dollars a month." "But the gangs and police took at least thirty dollars from him each month." "There are dozens of shops on that street. Even if others aren¡¯t paying as much¡ªmaybe twenty, or even just ten dollars¡ªit all adds up to a fortune." "Of course, I¡¯m just giving an example. I¡¯m not saying we should do this. It¡¯s dirty work, doesn¡¯t pay much, and makes you a target. When things go wrong, the ones collecting money are the first to be abandoned." "What I¡¯m saying is, there are many ways to make money¡ªand big money. Don¡¯t fixate on a job¡¯s meager wages. Look at the Federation¡¯s capitalist tycoons and political dynasties. How many of them worked their way up?" Mello looked puzzled, as did the others. "Then what should we do?" "Start a company." "Start a company?" Mello scratched his head. "But I thought you need a permanent residency card or citizenship to register one. Are you planning to have someone register it for you?" Lance shook his head. "My identity will be updated soon. I¡¯ll register it myself. You¡¯ll all be my employees." He smiled confidently. "I already know what we¡¯re going to do, and I can promise this: if you follow me and work hard, every one of you will afford a house and a car." "But before that, you need to prepare yourselves. Making more money means taking on greater risks¡ªmentally and physically. Get ready for that." "Then join me in facing the storm of this new era!" Chapter 38: Wanli Chapter 38: WanliBy Wednesday, Officer Brayden had successfully entered Lance¡¯s identity information into Jingang City¡¯s records. Now, anyone searching his personal details would find a file associated with the White family. Lance had officially taken on the identity of "Steven (formerly known as)" and was now recognized as Lance White. Brayden also helped him apply for a Social Security number and a personal tax number. With these two pieces of documentation, Lance was now a legitimate citizen of the Federation. Not even the President could question his legality! "My promise to you still stands," Brayden said earnestly, handing Lance an envelope containing the paperwork. The "promise" referred to Brayden¡¯s agreement to offer discounts for identity solutions to anyone Lance referred to him. Since Brayden had publicized his ability to resolve identity issues for immigrants, he had already received numerous inquiries. One particularly generous client had promised to pay four hundred dollars if Brayden could secure legal status for them. Although the unrest in Jingang City had peaked and was winding down, it didn¡¯t mean the public sentiment against immigrants¡ªboth legal and illegal¡ªhad improved. Over the past two to three weeks, numerous immigrant-owned shops had been vandalized, looted, and even burned, causing incalculable economic losses. Last week, The Federation Times ran a front-page photo capturing the chaos. In the image, five police officers stood with their hands on their hips behind a police car, watching a dozen hooded figures fleeing a jewelry store. Scattered on the ground were jewels and silverware the looters had dropped during their escape. The store owner, clutching a head wound, stood helplessly in the doorway. The image, dynamic and impactful, resonated across the Federation, causing widespread outrage. Even now, reports of immigrant-owned shops being looted or destroyed continued to surface. Notably, this time the looters hadn¡¯t discriminated based on ethnicity¡ªnative Federation citizens also fell victim. As a diverse, multi-ethnic country, distinguishing an immigrant shopkeeper from a local one was often impossible. Beyond property damage, many immigrants had been assaulted or robbed. In this environment, the desire among undocumented immigrants for legal status became all-consuming. Brayden, having mastered the process, was poised to profit handsomely. From each case, he expected to make at least one to two hundred dollars, if not more. His strategy was straightforward: search the archives, then find impoverished locals to say, Hey, here¡¯s your long-lost family member! Whether it was a child or an elderly parent, the ¡°reunion¡± depended on how much money these locals needed. Brayden was about to hit the jackpot. "Thank you for your generosity, Officer Brayden," Lance said. Brayden laughed, patting Lance on the arm. "You saying that makes me feel stingy." "From the heart," Lance replied with a grin. Moving on, Brayden asked, "Now that you¡¯re a Federation citizen, what¡¯s next on your agenda?" Lance didn¡¯t hesitate to share his plans. He knew he¡¯d need Brayden¡¯s help again in the future. "I¡¯m planning to start a company¡ªor maybe several." "Doing what?" Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Anything and everything." Brayden raised an eyebrow. Lance¡¯s response sounded overly ambitious, yet something about it carried a spark of confidence. For now, though, Brayden¡¯s focus remained on Jingang City¡¯s fifteen thousand undocumented immigrants¡ªa massive, untapped market. As the President had announced plans to gradually address illegal immigration, Brayden found himself transitioning from a supporter to an opponent. Legalizing immigrants en masse would effectively kill his lucrative side hustle. He resolved to earn as much as possible before the opportunity disappeared. After their conversation, Brayden rushed off to pursue his booming business, while Lance headed to the city¡¯s Commercial Services Bureau. Jingang City, as a shining beacon of the Federation¡¯s economy, offered comprehensive services to businesspeople looking to establish themselves. The bureau provided everything from company registration to tax number issuance, all under one roof. When Lance arrived, there was already a line. Every day, gold-seekers from around the world came chasing their Federation dreams. A few might eventually make their mark on history, but most would simply become sustenance for the city¡¯s insatiable appetite. ???????????¨§S "Sir, how can I help you?" asked a sweet-looking woman at the counter. Her voice was pleasant, though her attire was notably conservative. Lance¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t linger on her figure but instead focused directly on her eyes. "It seems today¡¯s my lucky day." "Excuse me?" she replied, puzzled. "Because I¡¯ve seen an angel in Angel City," Lance said, his lips curling into a charming smile. His demeanor, combined with his reasonably handsome face, brought a flush to her cheeks. "You¡¯re quite the talker," she murmured, touching her warm face. "What can I help you with today?" "I want to register a company, but I¡¯m not sure about the process..." "I¡¯ll help you!" she declared firmly, her willingness fueled by Lance¡¯s earlier compliment. "And just like an angel would," Lance added. The woman grew even more flustered but quickly regained her composure. It was work time, after all. "What kind of company are you planning to start?" "A company that helps people solve problems. They can come to me for consultations, and I¡¯ll provide solutions¡ªfor a fee, of course." As she nodded and began filling out the forms, Lance noticed how complex they were. Without her guidance, he would¡¯ve likely needed a lawyer. "Do you have a name in mind for your company?" she asked. "Yes¡ª¡®Wanli.¡¯ By the way, if I plan to establish more companies in the future, should I register them separately or just expand the scope of this one?" The woman paused, surprised by the depth of his question. However, she quickly answered, "If all the businesses operate out of the same location, one company will suffice. But if they¡¯re at separate locations, it¡¯s better to establish a parent company to manage them. Also, make sure the names are distinct." After a while, she handed the forms back to Lance. "You¡¯ll need to provide your personal information here. We also can¡¯t confirm right away if your company name is unique¡ªit¡¯ll take at least three days for the State Department to verify it." She added, "They¡¯re always swamped, so they might drag it out for a week. I¡¯ll follow up with them for you." As Lance filled out the forms under her guidance, she introduced herself. "By the way, I¡¯m Patricia. Patricia Lawrence." "Nice to meet you, Miss Angel. I¡¯m Lance White," he replied, shaking her hand. Patricia giggled before composing herself. "I need to get back to work," she said, touching her flushed cheeks. "Just sign here and leave a phone number so we can contact you." With everything finalized, Lance walked out of the bureau with a light heart. His journey as a legitimate businessman was just beginning. Chapter 39: Publicity, Interviews, and Attention Chapter 39: Publicity, Interviews, and Attention"Do you have time..." Lance handed over the signed forms. Patricia glanced at his signature and murmured softly, "I¡¯m not sure... this seems so fast. We¡¯ve only just met, and now you¡¯re asking me out..." Lance chuckled lightly. "I was referring to wanting to learn more about the registration process." Patricia immediately looked embarrassed. In matters of romance, the one who reveals their feelings first is often at a disadvantage. Just as she was floundering for words, Lance saved her from her awkwardness with a deft remark, looking directly into her eyes. "But I¡¯d also like to take this chance to get to know you better." Patricia blushed, covering her face with her hands, her feelings for this young man growing stronger. "Saturday morning..." After setting the time and place, Lance left the Commercial Services Bureau. By now, the building was even more crowded, with people spilling out onto the steps. Lance lit a cigarette at the entrance, his head tilted upward as he exhaled a mixture of good and bad emotions with the smoke, gazing at the sky. The ship of dreams had set sail; the future was here. What Lance didn¡¯t know was that a journalist happened to capture this exact moment. The journalist planned to feature the photo in the next day¡¯s business section of , under the headline: The piece would juxtapose personal ambition with the city¡¯s vitality, showcasing Jingang City¡¯s youthful energy as part of the mayor¡¯s push to attract attention to the city. Perhaps sensing the camera or acting on a hunch, Lance turned to look in the direction of the photographer, who immediately felt self-conscious. The man approached him with his camera in hand. "Hello, sir. I¡¯m a reporter for . That shot... it was incredibly striking. I¡¯d like to use it in tomorrow¡¯s paper." "If you¡¯re okay with it, I can offer you... two dollars?" Lance waved it off. "No charge, friend. In fact, I¡¯d be grateful if you used it." He paused before adding, "Do you have any other interviews lined up? Perhaps we could chat." The reporter¡¯s eyes lit up. Nothing made for better material than interviewing the subject of a compelling photo. He quickly pulled out a notepad and pen. "You¡¯re here to register a business today?" "That¡¯s right." "What made you choose Jingang City for your business?" Lance thought carefully before replying. "Jingang isn¡¯t the only city in the Federation with excellent business potential. But here, we have a group of efficient and upright government officials. They¡¯ve installed a high-powered engine in our economy, enabling us to race along the fast track of development." ????¨¤¦­????¦¢¨º? "Under the guidance of these managers¡ªand with everyone¡¯s collective effort¡ªI believe Jingang can not only lead the Federation but also the world. I can¡¯t allow myself to miss such an opportunity. It might be the most important one of my life." The interview concluded quickly. As the reporter reviewed his notes brimming with material, he couldn¡¯t contain his excitement. Shaking Lance¡¯s hand enthusiastically, he exclaimed, "Brilliantly said, Lance! This needs no editing; it could go straight into print. Which university did you graduate from?" He assumed someone capable of such eloquence must have a strong academic background. Lance smiled. "I didn¡¯t go to university." The reporter was incredulous. "I can¡¯t believe that. But no matter what, Lance, your words will make for an exceptional article." Sensing the man¡¯s enthusiasm, Lance made a suggestion. "In that case, how about buying me a coffee? And while we¡¯re at it, we should introduce ourselves properly. Lance White." The reporter hurriedly capped his pen and shook Lance¡¯s outstretched hand. "George Smith, ." They sat down at a nearby caf¨¦, where George ordered two cups of coffee at thirty-nine cents each, along with a small tray of pastries¡ªaltogether less than a dollar fifty. Despite being the caf¨¦¡¯s more upscale items, most patrons only opted for the ten or twenty-cent coffees, avoiding pastries entirely. "Are you from Jingang originally?" George asked after taking a sip of coffee. "I hear a trace of something in your accent..." Lance nodded. "Yes, but there¡¯s a story behind that." "As a child, I was sold to another state after an accident. I was just a few years old when they put me to work." "Later, when I grew older, they locked me in a small workshop alongside people from all over the world. You know, as long as someone¡¯s willing to pay, there¡¯s always labor to exploit." "That¡¯s why my accent is so muddled¡ªit¡¯s something many people notice." George nodded sympathetically. "What a nightmare. And after that?" "Not long ago, my adoptive father¡ªat least, that¡¯s what they called him¡ªpassed away. I left, wandered in search of my real family, and eventually found a match." "I met... well, I still find it hard to call them that, but I met Mr. and Mrs. White. We really do look alike." "I¡¯ve come home." George was astonished. "Unbelievable. No wonder you speak with such depth. Life has been your greatest teacher!" "Lance, it¡¯s an honor to know you. Can I include your story in the article? It¡¯s so inspiring. Plus, it fits perfectly with what certain politicians want to see¡ªit might make your path ahead smoother." George, fully taken in by Lance¡¯s demeanor and story, wanted to build a more compelling profile of him. Lance saw no reason to refuse. The Federation was a giant stage for fame and fortune, and both were critical. "I¡¯d prefer not to dwell on the past, but I¡¯ll admit my adoptive father didn¡¯t leave me disabled or dead. Still, I don¡¯t want those days to haunt me or my family." George nodded fervently. "I understand. I¡¯ll use pseudonyms and alter details about locations and times. Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯m an experienced journalist; I can handle this." S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. After providing George with additional material, the two exchanged contact information. George assured Lance to keep an eye on tomorrow¡¯s paper¡ªhe would ensure the article stood out. For Lance, meeting George was an unexpected boon. In an era when information technology was still underdeveloped, newspapers were a primary means for people to learn about the world. Magazines were too expensive for the working class, and while television offered broader content, most laborers only caught glimpses of shows through shop windows. Radios, though widely used, had time and equipment constraints. But newspapers, costing only five cents, could be read on commutes, buses, subways¡ªor even in the restroom. By cultivating media relationships, Lance took a crucial step forward, faster than he anticipated. Reporters, the most significant information channel of the time, were far more accessible than one might think. The next morning, the director of the City Commercial Services Bureau arrived at his office with a box of donuts, only to be interrupted by a call as he sat down. "Mayor? I haven¡¯t read today¡¯s paper yet..." "Alright, I¡¯ll check it immediately." Puzzled, he asked his assistant to bring in a copy of . Opening to the business section, the director found a photo of the bureau¡¯s front entrance, packed with people engaged in quiet chatter. But amidst the bustling crowd, one figure stood out¡ªa young man, holding a cigarette, gazing skyward. The image exuded an unexplainable charm, as if reminding viewers to occasionally lift their heads and dream. The article began with statistics detailing Jingang City¡¯s economic growth over the past quarter, year, and decade¡ªtax revenues, business registrations, and economic expansions. These numbers painted a compelling picture of prosperity. Then came the interview, where the young man repeatedly emphasized teamwork in the city¡¯s success. Yet, to the director¡¯s discerning eye, every statement subtly placed bureaucrats at the forefront of the effort. It was a deft blend of humility and clarity. After reading, the director felt a surge of pride, as if he could hear the city¡¯s powerful heartbeat. He called in his deputy. Pointing at Lance¡¯s photo, he asked, "Is this our guy, or something we arranged?" The deputy shook his head, clearly unfamiliar. "This wasn¡¯t arranged by us¡ªit must¡¯ve been spontaneous." The director pursed his lips. "The mayor believes this article perfectly aligns with Jingang City¡¯s image and shifts focus away from recent incidents." "Since this wasn¡¯t our doing, fine. But get his application reviewed immediately." As the deputy left, the director studied Lance¡¯s youthful face. Somehow, he felt certain their paths would cross again. Chapter 40: A Spark to Ignite Chapter 40: A Spark to IgniteFrom the barely open door came stifled breaths, an oppressive sound that made the apprentice¡¯s fingernails dig deep into his palms, drawing blood that seeped from the cuts. The dark gap in the doorway seemed to hold everything he loathed. He despised it, wanted nothing more than to storm in and plant his fists on that fat face, but cowardice held him back. All he could do was seethe in silence, letting his hatred fester. Sometimes, he wondered what was wrong with the world¡ªwhy did every misfortune seem to fall on him? His parents had divorced long ago. The man he once idolized as a role model had left Jingang City with a woman nearly a decade younger. The court granted custody to his mother, as he was still a minor and his father explicitly refused to take responsibility. After a brief consultation with a lawyer, his father had washed his hands of him, leaving him to live with his mother. Life was far from easy. With more and more illegal immigrants arriving, jobs were scarce, wages low. Everyone touted Jingang City as a beacon of economic success, but as a native, all he felt was crushing competition. Six months ago, his mother decided he needed to learn a trade. Having just graduated high school, he went through "research" to determine that Johnny¡¯s bakery was the most successful business nearby. Earning one or two hundred dollars a month from such work would be astronomical for a single-parent family like his. So, he was sent there. Over six months, most of his mother¡¯s meager income had gone to his training, but he¡¯d learned nothing¡ªno dough-making, no bread preparation, no techniques to make bread tasty, and certainly nothing about crafting high-quality pastries. Instead, he worked long hours for free and still had to pay Johnny ten dollars a month for the "privilege." He hated everything about the place¡ªthe bakery, Johnny, and even himself. And now, he had to add his mother to that list. To save money, she was in the back room with Johnny. He knew exactly what was happening and was powerless to stop it. A few minutes later, she emerged, adjusting her disheveled blouse. She caught the fierce look in her son¡¯s eyes, and her expression shifted slightly. Without speaking, she gave him a small nod and prepared to leave. But the apprentice followed her. "Why?" he asked. In the alley behind the bakery, she stopped, turned to face him, and replied, "Because Johnny is the best baker around. If you learn from him, you¡¯ll at least have a way to survive. This was your decision." He didn¡¯t understand. He asked again, "Why?" "Why did you... do that?" Her face remained calm. "Because we¡¯re out of money." The apprentice fell silent. His mother, undeterred by his quiet rage, continued. "You don¡¯t have many options left. Either leave here, find a job, and take care of yourself..." She hesitated, then added, "Or stay. Johnny promised me he¡¯d keep you on for at least three more months." He wanted to say something, but no words came. He had drained their savings, and now she had made sacrifices to keep him there. Leaving wasn¡¯t a simple matter anymore. On the surface, it seemed he had a choice, but in reality, there was none. He didn¡¯t know what "sunk cost" meant, but he understood that leaving now would render all their sacrifices meaningless. Seeing her son¡¯s continued silence, and recalling the repressed anger in his eyes earlier, the woman¡¯s expression softened. "You¡¯re grown up now. There¡¯s something I haven¡¯t told you¡ªI¡¯m planning to leave this place." He looked up abruptly. "You... when are we leaving?" She shook her head. "Not we¡ªjust me. I¡¯ve met someone while working. He¡¯s a tourist from out of town. He wants me to go with him, and I¡¯ve agreed." "So... you don¡¯t have much time left." She turned and left after saying this, believing it to be the best choice. She had sacrificed enough¡ªtime, youth, money, even her dignity¡ªfor her son. Now it was time to live for herself. ????????¦­??¨ºs The apprentice stood there, speechless, as her figure disappeared into the alley. His father first, and now her. That night, he worked mechanically, scrubbing the bakery¡¯s floors twice before collapsing into bed, exhausted. His mind churned with thoughts of how to change his circumstances, of how to learn Johnny¡¯s baking secrets. He had always believed he¡¯d eventually learn them, but now he realized how na?ve he had been. Half-asleep, a thought struck him: If Johnny couldn¡¯t bake, then maybe he could take over. Perhaps that was how he could learn the recipes and techniques. In his dreams, Johnny was injured, rendered unable to bake. Left with no choice, he entrusted the task to the apprentice, who quickly mastered the craft. Soon, he opened his own bakery, offering cheaper, better bread. Johnny and his despicable daughter were left destitute. The apprentice woke the next morning staring at the cracked ceiling. It had been just a dream, but the idea lingered. It was Thursday, and business was picking up. Thursdays were the days Johnny personally baked. After finishing his morning chores, the apprentice waited in the back kitchen for Johnny, who arrived shortly and began preparing ingredients. Johnny turned to him with a sneer. "What are you still doing here?" In his dreams, the apprentice had struck Johnny with all his might. In reality, he cowered. "I... I thought I might help you." Johnny laughed derisively. "Trying to steal my techniques?" "Get out, you little brat. Just because your mom gave me a blowjob doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m teaching you anything." "People offer me five hundred bucks for my secrets, and your mom¡¯s worth maybe five dollars!" Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Now get out of this room before I lose my temper. And close the door behind you!" The apprentice clenched his fists, but Johnny wasn¡¯t worried. He knew he had the upper hand over the boy and his mother. "You thinking about hitting me?" Johnny slapped the boy¡¯s head with a flour-covered hand. "Pack your stuff and leave, or get back to stoking the boiler!" The apprentice reluctantly released his fists. "Yes, Boss," he muttered. It was yet another humiliation¡ªJohnny insisted on being called "Boss." Leaving the kitchen, the apprentice¡¯s hatred only deepened. By afternoon, Johnny¡¯s "work time" had ended. He had prepared the dough for high-end pastries and breads, leaving the apprentice to handle the simpler tasks like baking. With a few hours of freedom, the apprentice remembered the dream that had haunted him. Changing into clean clothes, he left the bakery. Being a local had its advantages¡ªhe had friends. Though work consumed most of his time, he occasionally caught up with them. Recently, he¡¯d heard tales of locals vandalizing immigrant-owned stores, looting valuable goods. At the time, he had dismissed it as idle chatter. But now, he saw an opportunity. In the evening, Johnny stepped out of the back kitchen, his sweaty torso covered in thick body hair, resembling a bear. "Keep an eye on the proofing racks," he barked. "Once the dough¡¯s ready, put it in the oven. Screw it up, and you¡¯ll pay the price!" He added with a lecherous grin, "Your mom may look plain, but she¡¯s got some real skills!" Johnny enjoyed seeing the apprentice¡¯s impotent rage, but tonight, the boy showed no emotion. This lack of reaction bored Johnny, who returned to his room to rest. Exhausted from the day¡¯s work, he needed a nap. Business was booming despite the city¡¯s lingering chaos. Customers lingered in the bakery, chatting over coffee and bread. Later, Johnny sat at the dining table, greasy fingers counting the day¡¯s earnings while gnawing on fried chicken. As the apprentice mopped the floor, he quietly unlatched the front door. In the shadows, his eyes gleamed with a mix of hatred and satisfaction. Chapter 41: Tears Chapter 41: Tears Johnny gnawed the last shred of meat off the bone, patted his belly with satisfaction, and smirked¡ªhe¡¯d made another ten dollars today. Life was good. He had paid two quarters¡¯ worth of protection fees recently, meaning he didn¡¯t have to worry about those expenses for the next six months. At first, handing over the money had stung, but as John had assured him, it wasn¡¯t money disappearing¡ªit was just being paid in advance. Glancing at the apprentice wiping down tables in the corner, Johnny scoffed before heading to his room. He was in a great mood tonight; consistent sales always did that for him. He lay down on his bed, placing the cash box under the nightstand, and turned on the radio to listen to a serialized drama. Radio dramas were a staple entertainment for the Federation¡¯s working class. Televisions, while available, were costly, and lower-income families didn¡¯t have the luxury of time to sit in front of them. Most worked from early morning until exhaustion claimed them at night. For those who did enjoy television, peeking through store windows on the way home sufficed. Some stores strategically placed TVs in their windows to attract passersby. Why buy a TV when you could watch for free? The drama, co-hosted by a male and female narrator playing the story¡¯s characters, used rich dialogue and voice acting to immerse listeners completely. It was one of the most popular programs, airing from 8:30 to 9:25 p.m.¡ªa solid fifty-five minutes, enough to entertain without disrupting sleep schedules. Johnny, his belly full of greasy, sugary food, began to drift off as the narrators spun their tale. Half-asleep, he heard footsteps outside and growled, "Damn brat, what the hell are you doing wandering around at this hour?" "If you don¡¯t get to bed right now, you¡¯re skipping breakfast tomorrow!" The footsteps ceased immediately, and Johnny turned over, slipping into that half-dreamy state he relished. Outside, under the dim glow of the nightlight, the apprentice stood with five young men around his age in the bakery. The group tore into leftover bread from the day, particularly the high-end varieties. Topping their slices with ham, they devoured the food ravenously. It was as if their purpose tonight wasn¡¯t theft but indulgence. The apprentice joined in. Despite working in the bakery for months, he¡¯d never tasted the nut bread or the mouthwatering ham slices. He ate with reckless fervor, as though consuming not just bread and ham but also his hatred, disgust, and despair. When the group had their fill, the clock struck ten, and faint snores began to emanate from Johnny¡¯s room. The apprentice wiped his mouth. "There¡¯s only one bed inside, and his daughter hasn¡¯t been staying here lately. The money¡¯s with him. I know Johnny¡ªhe can¡¯t sleep unless he can see his stash." "I don¡¯t want a share," he added, "but I have one condition..." The leader of the group licked his fingers. "I know, you¡¯ve said it a million times¡ªbreak both his arms." He motioned toward the cabinets. "Now help me pack up this bread. And those ham slices, too." "Damn it, this bastard makes them so damn good!" The others chimed in, agreeing that the bread was incredible. They¡¯d heard rumors about the bakery¡¯s quality but had never been able to afford it. Even the slightest markup¡ªa penny more per pound¡ªwas enough to deter their families. The apprentice quickly packed the goods, then retreated to his room, locking the door and burying himself under the covers. His heart pounded in his ears, but for the first time, the darkness brought him peace rather than dread. He felt secure, even excited. Meanwhile, the leader twisted the doorknob to Johnny¡¯s room and found it unlocked. He exchanged a surprised look with his crew. What they didn¡¯t know was that Johnny saw the apprentice as a broken dog, incapable of defiance. Johnny never worried about him and assumed he would slink away at the first shout of "Get out!" With the windows locked, he felt secure in his fortress. The room was pitch black and eerily quiet. Someone bumped into something, sending it clattering to the floor. Johnny jerked awake and snarled, "Who¡¯s there?" He switched on the light. The scene froze for a moment. His hand hovered over the nightstand, while five young men stood before him, each holding a club. A chilling realization crawled up Johnny¡¯s spine. Just as he tried to react, the leader swung his club directly at Johnny¡¯s head. Johnny raised an arm to block the blow, but the impact snapped the bone with a sickening crack. He howled in pain, clutching his broken forearm as he scrambled into the corner where the bed met the wall, screaming for help. ???????????????? One of the men quickly shut the door, trapping the sounds of chaos inside. "Where¡¯s the money?" the leader barked, jumping onto the bed and pressing Johnny¡¯s head against the wall with his foot. Fear consumed Johnny. The pain from his broken arm was nothing compared to the terror these young faces¡ªstill carrying traces of innocence¡ªinstilled in him. His mind blank, Johnny stammered the first thing that might save him. "In my pocket¡ªmy coat pocket. I¡¯m injured; take whatever you want. Just don¡¯t hurt me!" The leader¡¯s foot pressed harder, eliciting another agonized scream. "If you¡¯re lying, you¡¯ll regret it." Two others rifled through Johnny¡¯s coat, pulling out a handful of crumpled bills. "Just fifteen bucks." The leader¡¯s expression darkened. He turned back to Johnny. "I meant the cash from your shop¡ªhundreds of dollars. Don¡¯t play dumb!" Johnny¡¯s heart sank. "I... I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about. There¡¯s no such money," he lied, hoping to protect the rest of the stash in the cash box. The leader stepped back, giving Johnny false hope¡ªonly to raise his club high and swing it down with all his might. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Instinctively, Johnny raised both arms to shield himself, despite one already being broken. Another sickening crack filled the room, followed by his bloodcurdling screams. His obese body jerked violently on the bed, flailing as if trying to escape the unrelenting blows. The gang pummeled him mercilessly, their inexperienced hands swinging with reckless abandon. Clubs blurred as they rained down on Johnny, reducing him to a sobbing, pleading mess. "I¡¯ll talk! Stop! It¡¯s under the pillow¡ªstop hitting me!" he wailed, his voice cracking with desperation. The leader kicked aside the pillow and yanked off the blanket, revealing a battered tin cookie box. He opened it and inhaled sharply. Johnny, who hadn¡¯t cried during the beating, suddenly burst into tears. The money meant everything to him¡ªits loss was a wound far deeper than any broken bone. The others crowded around, their faces lighting up with astonished glee at the sight. The leader didn¡¯t bother counting. He snapped the lid shut and stuffed the box into his coat. With a nod, one of the others began thrashing Johnny¡¯s arms again, battering them until they were grotesquely misshapen. Satisfied, the leader gave the signal to leave. As the sound of retreating footsteps faded, Johnny, sobbing uncontrollably, began screaming into the night. "You miserable bastards¡ªget back here!" Chapter 42: Swift Justice Chapter 42: Swift Justice The sharp knock on the door startled Officer Lukar out of his half-asleep daze. Muttering a curse, he forced a smile as he looked at the duty officer standing outside. "So, the rebels have stormed the Presidential Office, have they?" The recent uproar surrounding immigration issues had been intense. Protesters were gathering outside the Presidential Office, accusing the government of inaction on illegal immigration and smuggling. Some joked about ¡°storming the Presidential Office¡± as a rallying cry for action against government apathy. Waking up during his night shift to deal with yet another case warranted some sarcasm, even if it was just venting frustration at the system. The duty officer, initially stern, couldn¡¯t help but chuckle, quickly covering her mouth to regain composure. "There¡¯s been a violent home invasion and robbery. The precinct needs you." In Jingang City, criminal investigations were overseen by the main headquarters. Precincts would handle immediate responses to crimes but forward all investigative work to the centralized Criminal Investigation Division (CID). This system optimized resources for solving cases citywide. Officer Lukar was one of three CID officers on duty that night, though the other two had already left¡ªJingang¡¯s nights were far from safe. Stretching and groaning, Lukar rubbed his face, grabbed his cigarettes, and walked out the door. The duty officer handed him a slip of paper with preliminary details as she followed him to his car. The crime scene was Johnny¡¯s bakery. Donning gloves, Lukar crossed the police tape and entered the shop. Several officers were already working the scene, collecting evidence. The precinct¡¯s night-shift patrol officer in charge greeted Lukar with a nod. "Hey," Lukar said, offering a cigarette. The two lit up, sharing a smoke as Lukar asked, "What¡¯s the story?" The patrol officer summarized, "Someone called it in¡ªviolent home invasion and robbery. The hospital says the victim has over twenty fractures, and the suspects made off with more than a thousand dollars." Lukar noticed several labeled evidence bags on a table. One contained neatly packaged brown paper bags. "What¡¯s in these?" "Bread and ham." Opening one bag, Lukar let out a whistle. "Looks like they forgot their midnight snack." He glanced back at the patrol officer. "What¡¯s your take?" "No signs of forced entry. Windows were locked, no evidence of climbing. The only usable doors were intact. They entered and exited through the front door." "The front door wasn¡¯t damaged?" "Could they have picked the lock?" Lukar knew that with skill, many locks could be picked without leaving traces. The patrol officer shook his head. "The lock was engaged from the inside." Lukar raised an eyebrow. "So someone inside let them in. There must¡¯ve been a second person in the bakery when this happened." "Yeah," the patrol officer nodded. "The apprentice." Examining the scene further, Lukar noted the neat packaging of the bread and ham. He frowned. Bread and ham packaged together would mix flavors¡ªa mistake no professional baker or apprentice would make. This had been done after hours, unrelated to business. ??????? His gaze fell on breadcrumbs scattered across the floor. He already had a rough idea of what had transpired. "Where¡¯s the apprentice?" "He¡¯s at the hospital with his boss." "This case shouldn¡¯t have even come to us," Lukar grumbled. "It¡¯s obvious what happened. No need to waste our resources on this." The patrol officer chuckled. "I don¡¯t disagree, but rules are rules." Lukar sighed, shook hands with his colleague, and left the scene. Calling for backup on his car radio, he headed back to headquarters. Catching the culprits wasn¡¯t his job tonight. At the hospital, Johnny had just fallen asleep. Both his arms were shattered, broken into multiple sections. The doctors estimated at least six months for recovery, though even then, his arms would likely remain deformed and incapable of heavy tasks like kneading dough. The apprentice struggled to suppress a grin, though his face betrayed a subtle, inexplicable happiness. "Your boss has insurance, which is good," a hospital administrator informed him. "But there are some out-of-pocket expenses, like the ambulance fee. You should contact his family." Before long, Johnny¡¯s daughter arrived with her boyfriend¡ªa dark-skinned man in his thirties. "How¡¯s my dad?" she asked the apprentice anxiously. He explained the situation briefly, trying to reassure her. Just then, two officers approached. "Sir," one of them said to the apprentice, "we need you to come with us to discuss the incident." The apprentice offered a few words of comfort to Johnny¡¯s daughter before following the officers. At headquarters, the apprentice was brought to an interrogation room. As the minutes ticked by in silence, unease settled over him. By the time Officer Lukar entered ten minutes later, clipboard in hand, the apprentice was visibly nervous. When Lukar sat across from him, the apprentice instinctively stood, fumbling for words but saying nothing. "Have a seat," Lukar said, gesturing. "Smoke?" The apprentice shook his head. "No, thank you." Lukar lit one for himself. "Mind if I do?" S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "No." After taking a deep drag, Lukar exhaled and asked, "So, why did you assault your boss?" The apprentice froze, then stammered, "I didn¡¯t do it!" His exaggerated innocence made Lukar chuckle¡ªit was a poor performance. In his career, Lukar had seen all kinds of suspects. Some were masterful actors; others, like this boy, couldn¡¯t hide their emotions. "The lock was engaged from the inside," Lukar said. "That means someone let the attackers in. There were two people in the bakery: you and your boss. Your boss is severely injured, but you¡¯re fine. Coincidence?" Sweat dripped down the apprentice¡¯s face as his body began to tremble. He stammered weakly, "Maybe... we forgot to lock the door?" Lukar smirked. "The attackers left behind packaged bread and ham with your fingerprints all over them¡ªalongside theirs." The apprentice¡¯s face went blank. Lukar shook his head, irritated that such a simple case had disrupted his night. "Write down their names," Lukar said flatly. "And explain how you planned this. Do that, and I¡¯ll ask the judge for leniency¡ªtwo, three years tops." "If we uncover the truth ourselves, armed robbery is a serious crime. If they claim you masterminded this, you could face over ten years." "This isn¡¯t a complicated case. Even without your cooperation, I¡¯ll find them through your social connections." Lukar leaned forward. "You¡¯re already guilty." The apprentice sat frozen, his mind racing. Weren¡¯t the cops in movies supposed to be idiots? How had they caught him in under an hour? After a few minutes of tense silence, he slumped in defeat, his body relaxing as his head hung low. He began confessing, naming his accomplices and explaining his motive. When he revealed that his goal had been to learn Johnny¡¯s recipes and techniques, Lukar was momentarily at a loss. This entire ordeal¡ªa beating, a robbery, a ruined life¡ªall for some baking secrets? By the time the apprentice signed his statement, Lukar was rubbing his temples. Even with his cooperation, the boy faced over five years in prison as the mastermind of the crime. From a legal perspective, the instigator was far more culpable than the others. The law viewed planners more harshly than mere participants. Lukar offered the apprentice a final, pitying glance. "I hope this teaches you a lesson, kid." Chapter 43: Business Chapter 43: Business Johnny woke up around 4 a.m., not because of a peaceful sleep but because the excruciating pain from his injuries jolted him awake. Having recently undergone surgery, the anesthetics had worn off, leaving the raw agony of multiple fractures to assault him. His screams woke his daughter, who rushed to his bedside to comfort him. "It¡¯s over now," she said soothingly. "You¡¯re safe." Johnny¡¯s scattered thoughts gradually coalesced as he blinked through the haze of pain. His pale face was covered in visible beads of sweat. "It hurts so much," he groaned. "Get the doctor¡ªI need them now!" His overweight daughter hurriedly complied, bringing the doctor, who gave Johnny a quick check-up. "The surgery was successful," the doctor explained. "Pain is expected when you¡¯ve got over a dozen fractured or broken bones. It¡¯s unavoidable." Johnny couldn¡¯t take it anymore. Groaning and writhing, he pleaded, "Isn¡¯t there something for the pain? I can¡¯t stand it¡ªI feel like I¡¯m dying!" The doctor nodded. "We do have effective painkillers, but they¡¯re not covered by your insurance." The message was clear: pain relief would come at a price. Johnny, about to blurt out "Give me the shot!" caught himself. Gritting his teeth, he asked, "How much per dose?" The doctor smiled. "There are two options. One provides longer-lasting but milder relief. It won¡¯t eliminate severe pain¡ªat best, it¡¯ll take you from ¡®screaming¡¯ to ¡®quietly enduring.¡¯ It costs fifty cents per dose." "The other is a premium option¡ªcompletely blocks the pain, but it¡¯s short-acting, only four to six hours. Each injection costs three dollars." "I don¡¯t recommend either," the doctor added. "Pain peaks during the first 48 hours. After two days, it¡¯ll subside to a bearable level." Johnny wasn¡¯t listening anymore. "Give me the best one¡ªnow! I can¡¯t take this anymore!" The doctor, well-practiced in selling non-insurance treatments, instructed the nurse to bring the premium medication and administered the injection himself. A miracle unfolded. Within two minutes, Johnny, who had been alternating between howls and groans, was silent. "It doesn¡¯t hurt anymore!" he exclaimed, almost disbelieving. The doctor smiled. "That¡¯s the value of three dollars, Mr. Johnny. Call me if you need anything before 9 a.m." After the doctor left, Johnny turned to his daughter. "Where¡¯s the apprentice?" "The police took him," she replied. "And what did they say?" She hesitated, embarrassed. "I¡¯m not sure..." Before she could elaborate, a police officer knocked on the door. With Johnny¡¯s permission, he entered the room. "Mr. Johnny, we¡¯ve solved your case," the officer began. "Your apprentice conspired with some acquaintances to stage this crime. I wanted to inform you personally." ?¨¢?O?¦¢¨§? "By sunrise, we¡¯ll start arresting the suspects. The case isn¡¯t complex, so we¡¯ll be withdrawing officers from the scene. Your family can visit headquarters tomorrow for case details." "You should hire a lawyer," he advised. Johnny¡¯s face turned pale. "Are you sure the apprentice was involved?" The officer nodded. "I¡¯m afraid so." Johnny stared blankly, his mind struggling to process the betrayal. After a moment, he managed a weak "Thank you for informing me so late." His daughter had expected him to explode in anger but was surprised by his silence. He simply lay there, saying nothing. She sat quietly by his side, unsure of what to say. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. By morning, the sun streamed through the window as Lance stretched, relishing the comfort of a wooden bedframe over cheap accommodations. After a quick wash, he found his companions awake. The previous night, they had discussed his plans in depth. In this era¡ªand indeed any era¡ªcash flow was king. But for most people, finding ways to generate wealth quickly was a lifelong struggle. For Lance, however, the solution was straightforward. Whether starting with little or much, there were always ways to grow money. Inspired by Alberto¡¯s booming finance company and the government¡¯s lenient stance on small-scale private lending, Lance decided to take a similar route to secure his first big break. But unlike Alberto, Lance planned to avoid the pitfalls. The government¡¯s permissive attitude wouldn¡¯t last forever; maintaining social stability was every ruling class¡¯s goal. Small finance companies might soothe the lower classes temporarily, but their high interest rates made them unsustainable. This was Lance¡¯s opportunity. While others chased exorbitant profits, he aimed to attract wealth by offering slightly lower rates and building trust. Later that morning, Lance and Elvin scouted the city for a suitable office location¡ªnot too remote, yet not in the expensive city center. Eventually, they found a two-story roadside building between the Port District and Bay Area. Formerly an electronics shop, it had closed due to poor management. With 300 square feet across two floors and a monthly rent of just 18 dollars, it was a bargain. For the era, this was a golden opportunity¡ªeven real estate was cheap! Lance sent Elvin to gather their friends. Together, they scoured the secondhand market for furniture. By afternoon, their consultancy was born. Gathered in the ground-floor lobby, Lance addressed his team. "For now, we¡¯re focusing on one thing: financial consulting," he began. "Simply put, if someone urgently needs money but has none, our job is to solve their problem." He divided the work into two categories: Loans under $100¡ªhandled by the team. Loans exceeding $100¡ªhandled by Lance personally. "Your responsibility," he continued, "is strictly loans below $100." Elvin raised a hand. "Do we have that much money?" Lance pointed at him. "Good question, but not your concern. I¡¯ll handle that. Let me explain how this works: I take 50% of the profits. You get 20%, and 30% goes into a shared account." "Additionally, I¡¯ll pay each of you $20 monthly. The two women handling reception will earn $30. At the end of each quarter, you¡¯ll receive a half-month¡¯s salary as a bonus. Any questions?" The group exchanged glances and shook their heads. The offer was far better than their previous earnings. With meals covered by the company, even without commissions, they could save $10¨C15 monthly¡ªa substantial sum. Satisfied, Lance nodded. "Now, let me teach you how to create wealth and add value. Unlike traditional finance companies, we¡¯ll be proactive, seeking clients rather than waiting for them to stumble in." That afternoon, Lance visited Alberto¡¯s office. Upon entering, familiar faces greeted him warmly. Despite his short tenure there, he had earned their affection. Fordis, engrossed in a game of billiards, set down his cue to give Lance a bear hug. "Trouble?" "No, just here to discuss business with Mr. Coty." Fordis¡¯s eyes lit up. "So, your company¡¯s operational?" "Almost. I¡¯m waiting on the final registration call from the Commercial Services Bureau." Walking together, Fordis asked, "What¡¯s your line of work?" "Microloans, plus bringing large clients your way." Fordis whistled. "That¡¯s a great gig, but you¡¯ll face more competition than you expect." "First, you¡¯ll need money. Second, you¡¯ll need one of these." He mimed a gun. "In Jingang¡ªor anywhere in the Federation¡ªyour competitors aren¡¯t exactly law-abiding citizens." "I¡¯ll need you to introduce me to a seller," Lance replied. "Consider it done." Fordis knocked on Alberto¡¯s door. "Come in," came Alberto¡¯s voice. "I¡¯ll leave you to it," Fordis said, stepping aside. "Catch me later." Inside, Alberto wasted no time. "I¡¯ve hit a snag these past couple of days. Maybe you can help..." Chapter 44: The First Deal Chapter 44: The First Deal Alberto watched Lance seated confidently across from him. His initial irritation began to ease as he observed the young man¡¯s composure. Grabbing a cigarette, Alberto tossed one to Lance. "I¡¯ve been troubled by something these past few days. You may not know yet, but our state is about to join the Prohibition Alliance." Lance whistled softly. "Prohibition, huh?" Alberto nodded grimly. "That¡¯s right. Prohibition." "I own bars and nightclubs¡ªplaces that thrive on alcohol sales. If Jingang City enforces prohibition, those businesses are done for!" He took a deep drag, exhaling slowly. "Since my father¡¯s time, we¡¯ve built our livelihood on loans, liquor, and... let¡¯s say ¡®personal services.¡¯ But now, they¡¯re slowly squeezing the life out of us, Lance." "Two years ago, they passed the Usury Act. Now, they¡¯re about to ban the most profitable alcoholic beverages. Next, they¡¯ll probably outlaw personal services entirely." "I heard someone¡¯s proposing a full ban on all adult services. It¡¯s murder, I tell you!" Alberto leaned forward, his voice rising with frustration. "I feel like a drowning man gasping for air!" Lance carefully measured his response, avoiding any remarks that might further agitate Alberto. "So, you¡¯re asking me to figure out how to stop the state government from joining the Prohibition Alliance?" Alberto blinked, momentarily taken aback, as if he hadn¡¯t fully grasped Lance¡¯s words. "What? Why would you think that?" Lance exhaled in relief. "For a moment, I thought that was what you were asking since you mentioned needing my help." Alberto waved dismissively. "I know exactly what you can and can¡¯t do. If you ever become President of the Federation, maybe you could solve this problem. But now? No chance." He leaned back, calmer. "I¡¯m just venting. What I actually need your help with is something else." Alberto pulled a contract from his desk and slid it over. "Someone¡¯s refusing to repay their loan. The usual deal¡ªfive percent for you." Lance glanced at the paperwork. A thousand-dollar loan, overdue for four months, had ballooned to two thousand dollars with interest. It was a bloodsucking rate, squeezing borrowers dry. This wasn¡¯t a job Lance would handle personally, but it was a good starting point for Elvin and the others. They needed experience; their future depended on facing challenges like this. He agreed with Mr. Bolton¡¯s philosophy: rewards come to those who¡¯ve endured hardships first. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I¡¯ll handle it," Lance replied smoothly, setting the contract aside. "I was planning to discuss my company with you anyway. It¡¯s in the process of being registered, and it should be official soon." ???????B¨º???? Alberto raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What kind of business?" "Maybe we can collaborate," Lance offered. "Financial consulting," Lance continued. "It overlaps with your work. I can refer borrowers to you who need significant funds." "So, you¡¯ll earn a referral fee?" Alberto asked, popping a small snack into his mouth. "Being a middleman doesn¡¯t pay much. You¡¯d make more working for me directly." Lance shook his head, agreeing only in part. "You¡¯re right that middlemen don¡¯t earn much, but my role doesn¡¯t stop at referrals. I¡¯ll also handle repayment issues. All you¡¯ll need to do is sign the contract, lend the money, and wait for repayment." "If someone defaults, I¡¯ll take care of it. I¡¯ll return your principal and interest, so unpaid loans won¡¯t bother you anymore." Alberto considered this, frowning slightly. "You¡¯re asking for a cut of my profits." Lance held up the contract Alberto had just handed him. "Only on the big deals I bring to you. Think of it as extra income. You¡¯re not losing anything, really." Alberto hesitated, weighing the offer. "How much are you talking about?" "Fifteen to thirty percent monthly returns, guaranteed. No legal issues, no risks¡ªI¡¯ll handle everything," Lance assured him. Alberto leaned back, intrigued. Big loans were a growing headache in the wake of the Usury Act. Financial companies had become wary, knowing the law now favored borrowers in disputes over high-interest loans. Lance¡¯s proposal addressed a significant pain point. "And how exactly will you manage that?" Alberto asked. "That¡¯s a trade secret," Lance replied with a grin. Then, as if an idea struck him, he added, "Actually, Mr. Coty, Prohibition could be an opportunity for you." "An opportunity?" Alberto¡¯s eyes narrowed. Lance nodded confidently. "Prohibition will limit the open sale of alcohol, but people¡¯s demand for it won¡¯t change. The market will shift from buyer-driven to seller-driven." "You won¡¯t be pushing liquor onto customers anymore. They¡¯ll come to you, asking, ¡®What do you have?¡¯ You¡¯ll profit more than ever." Alberto mulled this over. Lance¡¯s perspective intrigued him. "So you¡¯re saying I should do nothing for now?" "If you¡¯ve got the funds, start stockpiling legal alcohol," Lance advised. "When prices skyrocket, you¡¯ll have the inventory to profit massively." Alberto¡¯s expression brightened. Lance¡¯s suggestion made sense. He called out, "Fordis! Get in here now¡ªI¡¯ve got work for you!" --- Minutes later, Lance and Fordis left Alberto¡¯s office together. "I knew you¡¯d sort out his problem," Fordis said, grinning. Lance shook his head. "Not entirely." On his way back, Lance stopped to pick up two local newspapers. Sure enough, the headlines reported efforts by the state church and reform organizations to pressure the government into joining the Prohibition Alliance. While the articles didn¡¯t confirm the state¡¯s decision, the tone hinted that people should brace themselves for an impending ban. This soft rollout strategy would ease public adjustment to the change when it happened. --- Back at his company, Lance handed Alberto¡¯s loan contract to Elvin before retreating to his office. Soon, the newly installed phone rang. "Is this Mr. Lance?" "Speaking." "This is the Commercial Services Bureau. Your company registration is complete. Can you come by to collect your documents?" "Of course," Lance replied. That was fast¡ªimpressively so. If anyone doubted the Federation¡¯s efficiency, Lance now had proof otherwise. Picking up the company documents was straightforward. With a confirmed business number and tax ID, everything else was set. Lance spotted Patricia at her desk but didn¡¯t disturb her, leaving quietly to return to the company. --- The afternoon was spent training his team. Their job was simple: hit the streets and find clients. By late afternoon, one of the team members returned with a potential borrower in tow. "Boss, this is Mr. ... uh, he¡¯d like a loan," the staffer said, introducing the man. "How much do you need?" Lance asked, gesturing for the man to sit. The man, a dockworker, hesitated before replying, "Fifty dollars." "Do you have a job?" "Yes," the man nodded. "I earn $37 a month." Lance thought for a moment. "Here¡¯s the deal: I¡¯ll loan you $50, but you¡¯ll need to give me two post-dated $37 checks, covering two months of wages. You¡¯ll also need to sign this agreement." The contract was simple. If the man¡¯s monthly wages fell short of $37 during the repayment period, he¡¯d lease his work card to Lance for four months at no charge. After reading the contract, the dockworker signed it without hesitation, handing over the checks. Lance watched him leave, already envisioning the steady growth of his business. Chapter 45: The Rolling Cash Machine Chapter 45: The Rolling Cash MachineLance pulled a stack of cash from the drawer, carefully counting out ten five-dollar bills. He laid them flat on the desk, counted them again for the man sitting across from him, then stacked them neatly and handed them over. "Mind if I ask," Lance began, "why you chose us?" The man, a dockworker, was already busy counting the money. "You¡¯re the only ones willing to lend me fifty bucks. Everyone else said it was too little, and the interest was ridiculous." Before coming here, the man had approached other lenders, but none would help. It wasn¡¯t that fifty-dollar loans lacked profit potential¡ªquite the opposite. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Most finance companies operated on steep interest rates. A fifty-dollar loan could easily balloon to over a hundred dollars in three months. However, these firms often balked at the logistical and financial risks of such small sums. If the borrower disappeared or defaulted, recovering the loan could cost more than the loan itself. Tracking someone down, sending staff, and covering transportation and meal expenses could quickly exceed the profit margins. This is why finance companies preferred larger loans with higher profits to offset potential recovery costs. For Lance, however, such "low-hanging fruit" was precisely the entry point he needed to carve out a niche and avoid direct competition. Not only did Lance have the man sign the contract, but he also had him press his fingerprint on the document. To seal the deal, the contract included a clause: "I have carefully reviewed the above terms and agree willingly, accepting all legal consequences." After double-checking the cash, the man left with a grin, his spirits visibly lifted. --- Lance opened a ledger, noting the details of the loan under his team member¡¯s name. "Once this debt is settled, you¡¯ll get a commission of four dollars and eighty cents." The team member¡¯s eyes sparkled with delight. Almost five dollars? It felt too good to be true. Lance bumped fists with him. "Keep it up," he encouraged before heading out to a nearby bank. --- At the bank, Lance was promptly approached by a floor manager, drawn by Lance¡¯s sharp appearance and the car he arrived in. "What brings you in today, sir?" "I¡¯m here to discuss a loan." "Of course, this way, please." The manager led Lance through the bank¡¯s well-appointed lobby to a private loan office. After a quick knock, the manager gestured for Lance to enter. Inside, a man in his forties stood up to greet him with a firm handshake. "Good afternoon. How should I address you, sir?" "Lance." "Mr. Lance, I¡¯m Jonathan. I handle loan services. What can I assist you with today?" Lance laid two post-dated checks and a contract on the desk. "I¡¯d like a loan of sixty-five dollars for two months." Jonathan raised an eyebrow, picking up the checks. They were standard, issued through a union worker¡¯s account¡ªa common setup in Jingang City. Union dues were deducted, and wages were deposited into such accounts each month. Next, Jonathan examined the contract, ensuring there were no hidden clauses. Satisfied, he looked up, puzzled. "So, these are... collateral?" "Exactly," Lance confirmed. "The checks¡¯ issuer currently has no funds in his account. However, the first check will clear in a week when he gets paid¡ªthirty-seven dollars, guaranteed." ???????¦¢¨§S "And the second check?" "Next month¡¯s salary. In short, I¡¯m using these as collateral for a sixty-five-dollar loan. Is there an issue?" Jonathan hesitated. This was unusual. "What if this... individual loses his job?" Lance was ready for this objection. "That¡¯s why there¡¯s a work-card leasing agreement in place. If he defaults, the card can be leased for four months, fetching at least sixty dollars from any undocumented worker." Lance smirked. "Right now, leasing a work card goes for twenty dollars a month. The math checks out¡ªeighty dollars¡¯ worth of collateral." Jonathan, a local, understood the demand for work cards. The recent anti-immigration unrest had driven prices up. Without work, many undocumented laborers were on the brink of starvation. Desperate to resume earning, they¡¯d pay premium rates to lease work cards. Jonathan mulled over the proposal. The bank¡¯s personal loan interest rate was twelve percent annually¡ªone percent monthly. For a sixty-five-dollar loan, that meant just sixty-five cents per month in interest. Two months added up to $1.30¡ªa negligible amount for the bank. Despite the small stakes, Jonathan hesitated. The unconventional setup made him uneasy. Yet, declining the loan outright might reflect poorly on him¡ªafter all, every transaction contributed to his performance metrics. Sensing Jonathan¡¯s indecision, Lance sweetened the deal. "This is just one transaction, Mr. Jonathan. I have many more like it¡ªpotentially thousands, even tens of thousands of dollars in loans every month." Jonathan¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Thousands?" "Perhaps more." Lance leaned back, letting his confidence do the talking. "You¡¯ve probably guessed what I do. Rest assured, any potential issues will be resolved before they become your problem." Jonathan tapped the desk, mulling it over. He glanced again at the checks and contract. "A week from now..." "You can cash the first check directly," Lance cut in. "Nobody processes payments faster than you." Jonathan¡¯s expression softened at the reassurance. With the account locked for deposits only, there was virtually no risk. "And the second check?" "Same deal. Deduct what¡¯s owed, then deposit any excess into my account." Jonathan finally smiled, extending his hand. "Cash or check?" "Also," Jonathan added, "I¡¯ll need an authorization letter allowing us to process these checks. In case anything goes wrong, we need clear accountability." Lance shook Jonathan¡¯s hand firmly. "Consider it done. You¡¯ve just made the best decision of your day." Jonathan chuckled, "Let¡¯s hope so." The loan was approved without issue. Lance walked out with $65 in cash, knowing he¡¯d just earned $15 in profit with minimal effort. Even after deducting the $1.30 in bank interest over two months, the net profit was substantial. The true power lay in scalability¡ªrepeating this process with volume would amplify returns exponentially. By keeping the cash flow rolling and reinvesting strategically, Lance was already proving the viability of his model. Back at the office, Elvin had fretted over Lance¡¯s earlier liquidity concerns. He needn¡¯t have worried. Lance¡¯s confidence wasn¡¯t misplaced. In fact, if funds weren¡¯t so tight, Lance wouldn¡¯t have bothered brokering deals through Alberto¡ªhe¡¯d have handled it all himself. Chapter 46: Making Big Money and Going on a Date Chapter 46: Making Big Money and Going on a DateThe small-loan business was booming. Federation citizens had abandoned the habit of saving money, or rather, years of rapid economic growth had shifted their mindset toward spending instead of saving. In the past, people did save, but with the booming economy, experts constantly reminded them: money left sitting in the bank would depreciate. Five years ago, when people earned only twenty dollars a month, fifteen dollars could buy a bicycle. Now, a bicycle cost more than twenty dollars. That five-dollar depreciation reflected inflation, making saving seem futile. Spending promptly was seen as a way to maintain the value of one¡¯s wealth. A bicycle purchased for fifteen dollars five years ago could now sell for seven or eight dollars in the second-hand market¡ªessentially, one dollar per year for riding it. You couldn¡¯t say the experts were wrong; their examples were valid. As the economy flourished, more cash circulated in the market, and the Federation printed more money to meet demand, leading to price changes. However, to say they were entirely correct wasn¡¯t accurate either. Measured by purchasing power, spending three-quarters of one¡¯s monthly income versus half showed the actual value of goods like bicycles was declining. But people didn¡¯t care about that; they only saw that bicycles had become more expensive. This mindset of living for the moment, coupled with a proliferation of finance companies offering installment plans and loans, nurtured a culture of immediate consumption. It also fueled the Federation¡¯s rapid economic growth. Factories never lacked customers for their products, and experts predicted this economic prosperity would last another ten years or more. Everything seemed perfect¡ªexcept when unexpected expenses arose. Many dockworkers at the port were fans of the ¡°live for the moment¡± philosophy. A typical evening involved a drink at the bar, admiring the optimistic and energetic strip dancers who worked there for the love of performing, and tossing them a few coins in approval. By the end of the month, little remained in their pockets. When they needed money urgently, things got tricky. Borrowing from coworkers? Forget it¡ªthey were just as broke. Asking their employer for a loan? That wasn¡¯t an option, and it risked disputes. Finance companies were a possibility, but without assets or valuables, and with a monthly income of just thirty dollars, finance companies wouldn¡¯t lend them money. The steep interest rates also deterred borrowers. This was where the ¡°Wanli Financial Consulting Services¡± stepped in, quickly becoming a hot topic among the working class in the port area. For loans under a hundred dollars, they offered same-day full disbursement, accepting both cash and checks, with reasonable interest rates and installment options. One man borrowed a hundred dollars and only needed to repay one hundred ninety over six months. That broke down to just thirty-eight dollars per month¡ªsignificantly lower than standard finance company rates. The key difference? Wanli really lent out money. They didn¡¯t worry about default because work cards were rising in value¡ªaveraging eighteen or nineteen dollars, sometimes even twenty. Workers could lease their work cards for extra shifts and pay off loans without working themselves. A single full-time job brought in even more income. Many workers considered their future before borrowing. Would this decision make life unbearably hard? Would they default? Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The answer was no. If they couldn¡¯t repay, Wanli¡¯s policy allowed them to hand over their work cards temporarily. The company would hire replacements to work off the debt. With no major risks, even those who didn¡¯t need money borrowed twenty or thirty dollars just to try it out. Some people, realizing that merely owning a work card enabled loans, took advantage of the system. For them, borrowing from Wanli was better than dealing with illegal immigrants, which had become taboo following recent anti-immigration movements. Renting work cards to immigrants was seen as unpatriotic by some ¡°Old Federation¡± citizens. ???????????¨§s? Instead, letting a company use their work card to pay off debt caused no such concerns. This arrangement became a solution for many. Amid this success, Lance considered opening a second business: a labor services company. In just a few days, Wanli had issued over two hundred loans, ranging from twenty to one hundred dollars, totaling more than thirteen thousand dollars. With an average term of three months, this would bring in about nine thousand dollars in profit. Moreover, the loans and vouchers allowed Lance to secure sixteen thousand dollars from the bank. The more he lent, the more he held. This was the secret of wealth: money begets money. Sometimes life is ironic¡ªfinancial success doesn¡¯t necessarily depend on hard work or noble character. That¡¯s the cruel truth. On the weekend, Lance invited Patricia for an outing. The girl, though shy, wasn¡¯t as rebellious as some might expect. In this era, most Federation citizens still valued ¡°virtue.¡± Conservative women remained the majority, and even holding hands could make them blush. Lance had chosen the amusement park in Jingang City for their date. Its attractions brought laughter from young people and children alike. While the Empire¡¯s impoverished struggled with daily survival, Federation citizens were already riding roller coasters. In a way, they weren¡¯t so different¡ªthey all experienced heart-pounding highs and lows. ¡°That was so intense!¡± Patricia clutched her chest, leaning against Lance. ¡°My legs are shaking! I swear I¡¯ll never get on one of those again!¡± It was clear the ride had terrified her. The roller coaster at Angel Amusement Park in Jingang City wasn¡¯t the most extreme, but it still brought joy¡ªand fear¡ªto many. The numerous signs reading ¡°Please Do Not Vomit Here¡± testified to its polarizing effect. Patricia leaned heavily on Lance, her trembling legs barely supporting her. Despite the layer of clothing between them, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. ¡°I thought you¡¯d like it. Look around; most of the visitors here are young people,¡± he said, helping her to a nearby bench. Her breathing steadied as her heartbeat slowed. ¡°This was my first time on a roller coaster, Lance. When I was little, I told my father I wanted to try one.¡± ¡°But he said it wasn¡¯t ladylike.¡± She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°He was such a rigid man, like a block of stone.¡± ¡°So...¡± she exhaled, flashing a small smile. ¡°Even though I was scared, you made my life more complete.¡± ¡°If it were just me, I wouldn¡¯t have dared to ride it. Thank you, Lance.¡± Lance chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re my angel, and I¡¯m your genie in a bottle, here to grant all your wishes. So, my angel, what¡¯s your next wish?¡± Patricia laughed, her radiant smile outshining the summer sun. ¡°You¡¯re too sweet, Lance. Sometimes I wonder if this is all just a dream!¡± Looking into her eyes, Lance leaned closer. The distance between them shrank, and Patricia¡¯s face turned red as her breathing quickened. She felt his breath near hers and grew dizzy. It was all too fast. Her traditional upbringing reminded her that she wasn¡¯t one of those loose women who could share a bed with a man after the first date. She still held to those values. ¡°Your collar¡¯s a bit off. Let me fix it.¡± Lance adjusted her hair and collar. She exhaled in relief but also felt a trace of disappointment. Just as she opened her mouth to say ¡°thank you,¡± Lance leaned in and kissed her. Her mind went blank. Having attended a strict church school with female teachers and nuns, Patricia had been taught that such intimacy was only for marriage. Perhaps this repression fueled the feminist movement sweeping the Federation, with women rallying for voting rights and equality. But for Patricia, this kiss was so contrary to her upbringing that she froze, unsure of what to do. Fortunately, Lance¡¯s kiss was brief¡ªno tongue, just a simple connection. The warmth of his face against hers left her heart trembling. She felt sticky, like the damp weather from the day before. ¡°Forgive me. It was spontaneous,¡± Lance said, pulling back slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll make it up to you with an extra wish.¡± Patricia covered her flushed face, feeling both shy and wronged. ¡°I didn¡¯t agree to that kiss.¡± Lance scratched his head. ¡°You¡¯re too beautiful. How about you kiss me back?¡± She couldn¡¯t help but laugh, her initial annoyance melting away. ¡°You¡¯re the boldest man I¡¯ve ever met!¡± Lance shrugged, unashamed. ¡°It¡¯d be shameful to not express my feelings for a girl I like.¡± Patricia rolled her eyes but couldn¡¯t deny his words filled her with sweetness. ¡°How many girls have you used this on?¡± she teased. An easy question. ¡°You¡¯re the first.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe you!¡± Lance didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°I wasn¡¯t like this before, but after meeting you...¡± He spread his hands like a flower blooming. ¡°It¡¯s like God opened a window, and now I have endless sweet words just for you!¡± Before she could respond, he grabbed her hand. ¡°Let¡¯s try the carousel!¡± She didn¡¯t refuse. After all, the carousel was every girl¡¯s favorite. And as for putting his arm around her waist? That was a move reserved for amateurs! Chapter 47: Home and Gathering Chapter 47: Home and GatheringThat evening, Lance dropped Patricia off near her home. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t want her to stay, but having her stay over might lead to marriage talks¡ªand Lance wasn¡¯t ready for that yet. It wasn¡¯t about shirking responsibility; it was simply that his career was in a pivotal growth phase, and everything else needed to take a back seat. Patricia lived in a middle-class neighborhood. Working at the Commercial Services Bureau at such a young age already indicated that she wasn¡¯t from a purely lower-class background. Before entering her home, she adjusted her clothes. When she opened the door, she saw her father sitting on the sofa, his face darkened. ¡°Hmph!¡± he grunted. Though he knew his daughter had been on a date, the father¡¯s heart couldn¡¯t settle. This was a universal fatherly dilemma¡ªhanding over a daughter who¡¯d been by his side for twenty years to another man. Even as a father, it felt like a betrayal. From an emotional perspective, it was its own brand of suffering. Patricia¡¯s mother, however, took it all in stride. ¡°William, your newspaper is upside down.¡± The middle-aged man paused and then set the newspaper back on the coffee table. ¡°I was working on a word puzzle.¡± Mrs. Lawrence chuckled and brought over juice and some pastries before sitting beside her husband. ¡°Pat, tell us, did you enjoy your date today?¡± Patricia was somewhat afraid of her father, but her eagerness to share the day¡¯s happiness quickly overcame her hesitation. After a brief pause, her face lit up. ¡°We went to the amusement park. We rode the roller coaster and the carousel...¡± She omitted certain details¡ªlike the kiss and physical closeness¡ªknowing they¡¯d provoke her conservative father. As Patricia animatedly recounted her day, Mrs. Lawrence¡¯s smile grew, clearly delighted by her daughter¡¯s joy. ¡°It sounds like a wonderful day. Even just listening makes it sound like so much fun.¡± She glanced at her husband. While he still wore a stern expression, she could sense his demeanor softening slightly. ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡± Mr. Lawrence sat up straighter, pretending not to care, though his ears were clearly tuned in. ¡°Lance. Lance White. He¡¯s a local.¡± Mrs. Lawrence sliced an apple, divided it into slices, and placed them on a plate with two fruit forks. ¡°So, does he have a job? Or what does he do?¡± ¡°He started his own business!¡± Patricia said, her tone brimming with pride. ¡°He registered a financial consulting company, helping people solve problems. He told me today that he might register another company next week. He even asked me about tax filing.¡± Chewing a crisp apple slice, her words became slightly muffled. ¡°But I don¡¯t know much about taxes, so I gave him my cousin¡¯s contact info.¡± At this point, Mr. Lawrence cleared his throat. ¡°You didn¡¯t... uh...¡± Patricia quickly interrupted, ¡°No! We just held hands!¡± Standing up abruptly, she said, ¡°I have some things to do...¡± and hurried upstairs. Watching their daughter disappear upstairs, Mrs. Lawrence frowned. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t ask such questions.¡± Mr. Lawrence disagreed. ¡°There are too many bad people out there, and those subversive ideas are corrupting young girls¡¯ minds. They¡¯re linking things like sex to oppression of women¡ªit¡¯s ridiculous, dear.¡± ¡°You may not have seen their twisted logic, but many girls are becoming promiscuous. I won¡¯t let my Pat become like that or be led down that path!¡± ¡°My stance remains the same. Before marriage, I don¡¯t want her staying out overnight.¡± ¡°I¡¯m protecting her. You should understand that.¡± Mrs. Lawrence didn¡¯t want to argue. She had attended some community gatherings where these topics inevitably came up. While some ideas were indeed outrageous, others¡ªlike giving women more autonomy¡ªseemed reasonable to her. ??£Îo??§¦? But she knew Mr. Lawrence was a rigid traditionalist, and she wasn¡¯t about to challenge his authority over trivial matters. After a brief pause, Mr. Lawrence added, ¡°If he¡¯s already asking about taxes, it seems this Lance fellow knows a thing or two about making money.¡± Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°I think we should meet him,¡± he suggested. Mrs. Lawrence straightened up, her demeanor sharp, like a protective lioness. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare. Until she brings it up herself, I don¡¯t want her hurt.¡± ¡°Whether the harm comes from outside or within this family, you¡¯ve controlled her for far too long. She¡¯s twenty now. She should have her own life.¡± ¡°She¡¯s not your pet or toy. Thinking you can dictate her life is fundamentally wrong!¡± With that, she stood up and took the apple plate, leaving none behind. She intended to talk to her daughter. While she didn¡¯t want Patricia hurt, she also knew that when emotions ran high, some things were inevitable. She needed to teach her daughter how to protect herself when the time came. Mr. Lawrence sighed deeply. Who could understand the heart of a father? On Saturday morning, Lance attended a gathering of Imperial citizens as usual. By now, he¡¯d integrated well into this community. People were generally welcoming to their compatriots. After greeting several gentlemen, he found Ennio and his group. ¡°I¡¯ve started a business and can offer you some extra work,¡± he said, diving straight into the topic. These young men cared about fun, cigarettes, alcohol, women, and, above all, money. Discussing anything else would be meaningless. As soon as Lance mentioned money, the group quickly gathered around. ¡°What kind of work?¡± Ennio, the group¡¯s informal leader, asked first. He had earned respect among them by standing up for others in fights, making him an authority figure. Lance explained his business. ¡°There are two types of jobs.¡± ¡°The first is small loans. If someone urgently needs a small amount of money and finds finance company rates too high, you can refer them to me.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t charge excessive interest. For every successful referral, you¡¯ll get five percent of the interest as commission. If someone borrows a hundred dollars, you¡¯ll earn five dollars.¡± ¡°There are some conditions: the borrower must be a Federation citizen and have a work card.¡± ¡°The second job involves work card leasing. I have some work cards available for rent. If you know any Imperial newcomers without permanent residency who need jobs, refer them to me.¡± ¡°I offer eighteen dollars a month per card, and you¡¯ll earn a one-time commission of one dollar per referral. For non-Imperial clients, I offer nineteen dollars per month with the same one-dollar commission. If you negotiate twenty dollars, you¡¯ll keep two dollars as your share.¡± ¡°Of course, stock is limited. Check with me before committing.¡± He handed out a stack of business cards. ¡°If you run into trouble, don¡¯t act recklessly. Contact me immediately¡ªwhether it¡¯s work-related or not.¡± Most of the young men paid little attention to his caution, focusing instead on the job details. Even with permanent residency, Imperial citizens faced a tough job market. Their colleagues often eyed them suspiciously, blaming immigrants for taking native jobs. But the truth was, even before immigrants arrived, many natives avoided work or slacked off. Their misfortune stemmed from their own laziness, not outsiders. Yet politicians fed them lies, claiming immigrants were to blame. Those unwilling to admit their faults readily accepted these scapegoats. For some unemployed individuals, Lance¡¯s opportunities were a lifeline. Ennio glanced at the card and asked, ¡°Lance, what if... we want to borrow money?¡± Lance didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Half interest for you guys.¡± Ennio exhaled in relief and hugged Lance. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you later.¡± After wrapping up with his friends, Lance was approached by Mr. Jobav¡¯s assistant, who said the boss wanted a private word. Bidding farewell to the group, Lance joined Mr. Jobav at the edge of the crowd. ¡°I hear you¡¯re working for Mr. Coty?¡± asked Jobav. Chapter 48: Mutual Greed Chapter 48: Mutual GreedJobav had heard from others how Lance had managed to deal with the stubborn Mr. Anderson for Alberto, leaving a positive impression on him. Occasionally, in social settings, he even mentioned this incident in conversation. He had been keeping an eye on Lance, and today presented a good opportunity to probe further¡ªespecially since he faced similar issues himself. ¡°We¡¯re partners,¡± Lance said, neither confirming nor denying that he worked for Alberto. Technically, it was true. Alberto had provided Lance with the initial funds to start his business and helped him expand his connections in Jingang City. Even though Alberto¡¯s ¡°assignments¡± didn¡¯t pay much, Lance still accepted them. Debts of gratitude were always the hardest to repay. Sometimes Alberto would even cover extra costs, which only made it harder for Lance to refuse him. Jobav sipped his drink and leaned closer. ¡°I have some similar issues I¡¯d like to entrust to you.¡± ¡°I also deal in loans, but as you know, not everyone who borrows money can pay it back.¡± ¡°My approach is different from Mr. Coty¡¯s, which makes my collection costs significantly higher. I¡¯ve been thinking of trying a different method, and your timely appearance has given me more options.¡± As a successful immigrant from the Empire, Jobav¡¯s achievements hadn¡¯t granted him the core benefits he sought in Federation society. While his wealth earned him a certain level of respect, local capitalists never treated him as one of their own. Instead, they eyed his fortune with undisguised greed. It wasn¡¯t his physical presence they coveted, but the money in his pockets. Being an outsider made local capitalists wary of him, but also emboldened them to covet his assets. He had to tread even more carefully than others. In the ruthless world of capital, any slip-up could make him a target. The escalating tensions between immigrants and natives, stoked by politicians, had further strained his position. More borrowers were refusing to pay, finding excuses, delaying, or forcing him into costly lawsuits. Litigation in the Federation was prohibitively expensive. Winning against a native borrower required hiring a Federation lawyer¡ªthose mercenary litigators who demanded exorbitant fees. Jobav¡¯s business was in trouble. The judicial and law enforcement systems didn¡¯t help him recover debts; instead, they seemed to protect the defaulters. This so-called ¡°land of freedom and equality¡± was neither free nor equal. Jobav hoped Lance could help him as he had helped Alberto. If Lance could solve his problems, his burdens would be significantly eased. And if things went south, the fallout would fall squarely on Lance¡ªnot him. Though he admired Lance¡¯s abilities, admiration didn¡¯t translate into financial gain. In Jobav¡¯s world, profit outweighed sentiment. ¡°Usury?¡± Lance asked. Jobav nodded. ¡°Some of it, yes,¡± implying that not all the debts fell under that category. He observed Lance¡¯s lack of immediate response and grew slightly anxious, though he kept it hidden. ¡°I can offer you ten percent commission, plus an expense allowance.¡± ¡°Lance, I assure you, no one in the Federation will pay more than I¡¯m offering!¡± The more enticing the offer, the more Lance realized how difficult these debts would be to collect. It was highly likely they were large sums¡ªstarting at several thousand, if not tens of thousands. Smaller debts, of a few hundred dollars, wouldn¡¯t warrant such a generous expense budget or commission. There simply wouldn¡¯t be enough profit margin. After some thought, Lance shook his head and declined. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Jobav, but I can¡¯t take on this job.¡± ¡°Mr. Coty extended a helping hand when I needed it most. I value gratitude, so I help him with certain matters.¡± ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll do this forever. Perhaps you¡¯re unaware, but I¡¯ve started my own company, and it¡¯s doing well.¡± Lance smiled. ¡°Currently, I¡¯m making four to five thousand dollars a month in profit, and it¡¯s only growing.¡± Jobav frowned slightly and countered, ¡°Twelve percent.¡± At twelve percent, a ten-thousand-dollar debt would yield a twelve-hundred-dollar commission¡ªnot insignificant. But Lance shook his head again. ¡°I¡¯m certain these debts aren¡¯t small.¡± Jobav didn¡¯t deny it, thinking Lance was trying to estimate his potential earnings. ¡°The largest is fifty thousand dollars.¡± At twelve percent, that would mean six thousand dollars in commission. Factoring in expenses, Lance could potentially earn over sixty-five hundred dollars on just that one debt. ????????§§? Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Mr. Jobav, if someone is borrowing such large sums and you¡¯re willing to lend to them, they must be local elites, correct?¡± The question made Jobav realize where the problem lay. It wasn¡¯t just his company; no financial institution capable of lending such amounts would be dealing with dockworkers. People borrowing tens of thousands were likely capitalists or influential local figures. For an immigrant, these were dangerous adversaries. Jobav himself was unwilling to confront them directly. He hoped to offload the risk onto Lance, but Lance wasn¡¯t about to make enemies of the local elite for a few thousand¡ªor even tens of thousands¡ªof dollars. Capitalists and social elites had networks of friends who would hear their grievances. Soon, Lance would earn a reputation as a ¡°despicable debt hound¡± among overlapping social circles. Meanwhile, Jobav would recover his principal, perhaps even profit, while preserving his reputation and status. That wasn¡¯t a deal Lance was willing to make. Seeing the visible disappointment in Jobav¡¯s expression, Lance decided to offer an alternative. ¡°I can suggest another way for us to work together.¡± ¡°Go on.¡± ¡°You could package these debts and sell them to me. Once I purchase them, whether I recover the money or not is none of your concern.¡± In his mind, Jobav immediately labeled Lance as ¡°greedy.¡± He hesitated before asking, ¡°How much would you offer?¡± ¡°Ten percent, as a gesture of goodwill between fellow immigrants.¡± ¡°For anyone else, I wouldn¡¯t offer more than five percent.¡± From the moment Jobav had tried to manipulate him, Lance had stopped considering him a friend and started treating him as a business rival. In business, if someone seeks to exploit you, don¡¯t hesitate to covet their wealth in return. Jobav rejected the offer outright. ¡°That¡¯s unreasonable. I¡¯d rather hold onto them myself.¡± Lance smiled. ¡°It¡¯s just an offer. You¡¯re free to decline.¡± ¡°In fact, I¡¯d prefer if you collected the debts yourself. At least that way, our friendship remains intact.¡± He raised his glass, clinking it against Jobav¡¯s in a gesture that left the latter visibly displeased. ¡°Goodbye.¡± With that, Lance finished his drink and left. Jobav stared after him, frowning deeply. If someone could borrow tens of thousands of dollars and still be considered capable of repayment, they were either capitalists or local elites¡ªboth groups that were too troublesome for an immigrant to offend. Mr. Jobav himself was unwilling to confront them directly. Instead, he tried to coax Lance into doing it with the allure of a modest commission. But Lance wasn¡¯t foolish enough to risk offending the city¡¯s elite and capitalists for a few thousand dollars¡ªor even tens of thousands. These people had connections. They would vent their frustrations within their networks, and soon Lance would be known across overlapping social circles as a ¡°despicable debt hound.¡± And Mr. Jobav? He would recover the principal, possibly make a small profit, and emerge unscathed in terms of reputation and social standing. That wasn¡¯t the kind of deal Lance wanted. The disappointment on Jobav¡¯s face was evident. Realizing that persuading Lance further was futile, he made one last attempt. ¡°Fifteen percent. That¡¯s my final offer.¡± Lance shook his head again but shifted the conversation. ¡°I can offer you another way to cooperate.¡± ¡°Go on,¡± Jobav said. ¡°You package these debts and transfer them to me. After that, whether I can recover the money or how much I recover will have nothing to do with you.¡± In that moment, Jobav mentally branded Lance as ¡°greedy.¡± He remained silent for a while before asking, ¡°How much would you pay?¡± ¡°Ten percent¡ªbecause we¡¯re both from the Empire.¡± ¡°For anyone else, I wouldn¡¯t offer more than five percent.¡± From the moment Jobav had attempted to manipulate him, Lance had stopped considering him a friend. In his eyes, they were now business rivals. In business, if someone sought to exploit him, he had no qualms about coveting their wealth in return. Jobav flatly refused. ¡°That¡¯s unreasonable. I¡¯d rather hold onto them myself.¡± Lance smiled. ¡°It¡¯s just an offer. You¡¯re free to decline.¡± ¡°In fact, I¡¯d prefer if you handled these debts yourself. At least that way, our friendship won¡¯t be jeopardized.¡± He raised his glass, clinking it against Jobav¡¯s with a cheerfulness that didn¡¯t match the other¡¯s sour mood. ¡°Goodbye.¡± With that, Lance finished his drink and left. As he watched Lance leave, Jobav frowned deeply. He had previously approached the Camille Gang to help recover a ten-thousand-dollar debt. They demanded five thousand dollars upfront and required him to cover all collection expenses¡ªwith no guarantees of success. The Camille Gang was even greedier and uglier than Lance, and negotiations with them had fallen apart. Now, Jobav faced a dilemma. Should he form his own gang or similar organization to recover the debts? If he did, and those enforcers were traced back to him, it could implicate both him and his bank. Over the years, Jobav had seen numerous immigrant capitalists devoured by the Federation system, leaving them with nothing. The process was brutal: they were given a choice between surrendering their wealth and leaving the country, or risking everything and facing ruin. Most chose to leave their hard-earned fortunes behind and return home in disgrace. Leaving allowed for the possibility of starting over, but facing the harsh sentences dished out in the Federation¡ªmetaphorically or literally¡ªmeant no return. Where did these sentences come from? The Federation¡¯s judiciary operated under a doctrine of ¡°punitive justice,¡± which was essentially a form of ¡°spanking.¡± A judge could choose to ¡°lightly spank¡± someone, doling out a minor penalty to show justice had been served. But they could also choose to ¡°spank hard.¡± There were cases where someone owing a few hundred dollars in taxes was hit with a million-dollar fine on the grounds that ¡°failure to impose a severe penalty would encourage others to disregard the law.¡± Conversely, corporations that defrauded investors of millions were often allowed to pay a token compensation of a few hundred thousand, deemed a ¡°reasonable financial risk.¡± The courts were always lenient toward local capitalists, praising their contributions to employment and tax revenue. But for immigrant capitalists, the system was unforgiving. They were seen as thieves, robbing the Federation of its taxes and wealth. When immigrant capitalists were dragged into court, they were left with no choice but to decide: surrender their wealth and leave or lose everything and face ruin. Chapter 49: Far More Than That Chapter 49: Far More Than ThatAfter Lance left, Mr. Jobav¡¯s assistant immediately approached, taking the glass his boss handed over. Observing the visible frustration, the assistant cautiously asked, ¡°No deal?¡± Jobav shook his head. ¡°He thought fifteen percent was too little.¡± The assistant exclaimed in disbelief, ¡°Fifteen percent isn¡¯t enough?¡± ¡°If he knew the total debt was close to two hundred thousand, would he still think it¡¯s not worth it?¡± Fifteen percent of two hundred thousand was thirty thousand¡ªa fortune many people couldn¡¯t even dream of, let alone touch. To the assistant, it seemed unimaginable to refuse such an offer. Jobav shot him a sharp look, his voice tinged with annoyance. ¡°He wanted ninety percent¡ªand only because I¡¯m also from the Empire.¡± The assistant was speechless, stunned by the audacity of such a demand. Jobav¡¯s mood soured further. His bank was facing numerous problems, and the tensions between natives and immigrants¡ªfanned by politicians¡ªwere pushing things in a bad direction. Depositors were withdrawing money as their incomes declined, especially illegal immigrants who had lost their jobs. Though it hadn¡¯t yet triggered a bank run, the steady outflow of cash was painful. Adding insult to injury, people were still asking him for money¡ªnot to borrow, but to take. While they signed contracts, those were little more than empty promises. For example, Mr. Williams¡¯ youngest son had already taken seventeen thousand five hundred dollars from him. Mr. Williams, a senior councilman in Jingang City, had served for over twenty years and commanded immense respect¡ªespecially among the older Federation citizens. His influence often surpassed even the mayor¡¯s in certain situations. Jobav had met him at a capitalist networking event. Their exchange had been polite and ordinary: swapping business cards and trading a few pleasantries before parting ways. Yet the very next day, Mr. Williams¡¯ youngest son came to borrow twenty-five hundred dollars. Desperate to expand his connections among the city¡¯s elite, and with twenty-five hundred being a relatively modest amount, Jobav agreed¡ªespecially since the young man signed for it. Then came another five thousand. And then ten thousand. When the young scoundrel asked for ten thousand, Jobav tried to refuse, but Mr. Williams¡¯ son reminded him of rumors about the bank¡¯s alleged involvement in money laundering¡ªrumors that he claimed to have quashed. If Jobav didn¡¯t want his bank and accounts investigated, he had better ¡°know what to do.¡± So Jobav knew what to do. He retrieved ten stacks of ten-dollar bills from his safe, packed them into a paper bag, and handed them over¡ªwhile forcing a smile of gratitude at the same young man who had just blackmailed him. This wasn¡¯t an isolated case. If it were only a few privileged elites demanding money, Jobav might tolerate it. But merchants using these elites¡¯ names as leverage were borrowing thousands, even tens of thousands, and refusing to repay. ?????¦­?????¨§? They¡¯d sign any contract but never honored them. Litigation was the only recourse, but even if he won, recovery was almost impossible. The money loaned to elites was money he mentally wrote off. But the sums lent under their names by merchants and commoners¡ªamounting to about two hundred and twenty thousand¡ªhe still hoped to recover. Lance¡¯s offer to recover the money for ten percent, equating to twenty-two thousand, was surprisingly stingy. But it might be his only viable option. Keeping the debts would mean sinking more money into litigation or letting them disappear entirely. Turning to gangs like the Camille Gang wasn¡¯t ideal either. They demanded enormous upfront fees¡ªten thousand or more¡ªand didn¡¯t guarantee results. Even if they recovered the money, the net profit would be negligible, if not negative. Among his options, Lance¡¯s proposal was the least risky. At least it ensured a return of twenty-two thousand. As Jobav stared at the sky in frustration, his assistant¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously considering his terms, are you?¡± Jobav shook his head slightly. ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve had a hunch from the beginning that this money would never come back. This effort is my last attempt.¡± ¡°What I truly want is to make them realize my money isn¡¯t so easy to take.¡± ¡°But his offer caught me off guard. It¡¯s hard to accept.¡± If he didn¡¯t show them his strength, they¡¯d keep coming, and he couldn¡¯t keep refusing. While he was beginning to waver internally, the fear of appearing weak kept him from making a decision. Unaware of Jobav¡¯s internal struggle, Lance mingled through the crowd and quickly spotted Mr. Bolton. Standing at the edge of a small circle, Mr. Bolton looked eager to join the conversation but was clearly excluded. ¡°Mr. Bolton,¡± Lance called out. Seeing Lance, Bolton immediately came over. ¡°Good morning! Lance, good to see you again,¡± Bolton greeted enthusiastically. ¡°I¡¯ve heard you¡¯ve been doing quite well lately?¡± Bolton¡¯s warmth wasn¡¯t surprising¡ªhe always welcomed wealthy compatriots. "Not bad!" Lance replied, shaking Bolton''s hand. "I was just chatting with Gerald, hoping he could work for me, but he mentioned he¡¯s under your care for now?" Bolton immediately nodded. "He doesn¡¯t have a Federation permanent residency yet. He¡¯s staying with us and relying on our connections to hold a temporary residence permit." "If he leaves us, it could cause some complications, so..." "What kind of work are you offering? Though he can¡¯t leave, you might consider my son, Rob. He¡¯s a clever young man; everyone who knows him says he¡¯s smart." Lance found an excuse. "I¡¯m just starting out. I can only afford thirty-five dollars a month, and it involves a lot of manual labor." The hopeful gleam in Bolton¡¯s eyes quickly faded. "That¡¯s unfortunate. Rob¡¯s not physically strong; he broke his shinbone once. The doctor said he shouldn¡¯t do heavy labor..." "But at that rate, you¡¯ll easily find willing illegal immigrants." Changing the subject, Bolton said, "I noticed you were chatting with Mr. Jobav earlier. You two seem quite close, Lance. It¡¯s enviable!" "Maybe next time you talk, you could include me? I have a few personal insights into finance I¡¯d love to share..." After parting ways with the persistently oblivious Bolton, the morning gathering wound down. The younger attendees were intrigued by the job opportunities Lance had offered¡ªchances like these didn¡¯t come often. Most Imperial immigrants worked honest but poorly paid jobs, turning over a portion of their wages to their families. What little remained for personal use was often only a few dollars a month. If they managed to handle Lance¡¯s tasks well, they might earn a few extra dollars, or even ten or twenty. For young men in their late teens or early twenties, brimming with restless energy, the prospect was deeply enticing. They needed money¡ªand now they had a chance. Sunday''s issue of ran another article highlighting the dangers of alcohol abuse. It seemed the state government was determined to join the Prohibition Alliance, and the sentiment was already catching on in the city. Prices for alcoholic beverages in some bars had begun to rise, and the public was abuzz with speculation. If Jingang City did enforce Prohibition, it would spell trouble for many. However, skeptics believed it wouldn¡¯t happen here. After all, Jingang was one of the world¡¯s largest ports, and the sailors who spent money here were a vital source of the city¡¯s income. Even Johnny¡¯s bakery wasn¡¯t spared the discussion. The bakery had reopened. Johnny had been discharged from the hospital, his medical insurance maxed out. Staying longer would have meant paying out of pocket¡ªa cost he couldn¡¯t afford. According to an apprentice''s testimony, the police had apprehended the robbers responsible for the break-in. Unfortunately, of the thousand-plus dollars stolen, only a few dozen had been recovered. The officer in charge of the case reported that the gang had been caught amidst a debauchery of strippers, endless liquor, and premium cigars. Still, something about the situation didn¡¯t sit right with Johnny, though he had no way to act on his suspicions. Back at the bakery, Johnny¡¯s injuries¡ªshattered arm bones¡ªmeant he could no longer bake bread. His daughter tried to help, but the physical demands of the job quickly wore her down. In the end, the responsibility fell on her boyfriend¡¯s shoulders. Though Johnny wasn¡¯t thrilled about the arrangement, he taught the recipes and techniques to his daughter¡¯s boyfriend. When the bakery reopened that Sunday, it quickly drew a crowd. The community sympathized with Johnny¡¯s plight and admired his bread. After a busy midday rush, Johnny sat with a longing look in his eyes. His daughter, growing impatient, retrieved a packet of painkillers from his waist pouch. ¡°You should cut back on these,¡± she reminded him. ¡°The doctor told you that.¡± Johnny¡¯s mood suddenly soured. ¡°What you do is put it in my mouth, not lecture me!¡± Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Sighing, his daughter placed a pill into his mouth. The irritable Johnny soon calmed down, even apologizing for snapping at her earlier. ¡°These pills are like devils, Johnny,¡± she muttered. ¡°With or without them, you¡¯re a completely different person.¡± At that moment, the bakery door creaked open, the bell above it jingling. Johnny¡¯s daughter instinctively called out, ¡°We¡¯re closed for now. We¡¯ll reopen at five.¡± But the visitor didn¡¯t leave. Instead, they stood in the doorway, gazing at them. ¡°I¡¯m not here for bread,¡± the man said. It was a police officer. A wave of unease washed over Johnny. Today was the first week of September... Chapter 50: No Worries Behind You Chapter 50: No Worries Behind You¡°Mr. Johnny, I¡¯m the new patrol officer in this district. You can call me Clark. For the foreseeable future, I¡¯ll be responsible for patrolling and maintaining law and order in the neighborhood.¡± ¡°I heard you¡¯ve run into some trouble¡­¡± Clark glanced at Johnny, seated in a wheelchair with a cast on, then removed his hat and took a seat not far from him. ¡°They say the culprit has been caught, but your lost money won¡¯t be recovered. I checked with the officer handling the case. You might want to prepare a lawyer and sue their families for¡­ compensation for your losses.¡± His eyes flicked to Johnny¡¯s arm, and he almost burst out laughing. Johnny had already become the neighborhood joke. The story of his misfortune spread like wildfire. A miserly and abrasive man like him was a rarity, so the incident was seen as a bloody yet ironic tale. Although a joke, it was indeed bloody. Johnny wasn¡¯t keen on facing Officer Clark but forced himself to engage. ¡°Thank you for letting me know. This is good news, but as you can see, I can¡¯t afford a lawyer right now.¡± ¡°By the way, I¡¯d like to ask¡ªwill they hire a lawyer?¡± After multiple amendments to the Federation Constitution, all parties involved in legal disputes had the right to hire legal representation to defend their interests. However, the law was of little benefit to the poor, as most couldn¡¯t afford a lawyer. The Federation¡¯s justice system had effectively become a toy for the wealthy. Ordinary people, lacking legal knowledge, stood no chance against professional attorneys. Even as victims, they could end up behind bars. Currently, hiring a criminal lawyer in the Federation was far from cheap. Even a guaranteed victory in a case required a minimum of a hundred dollars, with no upper limit. Additionally, lawyers often demanded 15% to 30% of any court-ordered compensation as a ¡°service fee.¡± Johnny hoped the other party couldn¡¯t afford a lawyer either. That way, he wouldn¡¯t have to spend extra money and might even secure some compensation. Clark shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure about that. It¡¯s a Major Crimes Unit case, and I¡¯m not authorized to inquire.¡± He paused before adding, ¡°There¡¯s something else I wanted to discuss with you today.¡± ¡°Before Officer John left this district¡ª¡± Johnny cut him off. ¡°I¡¯ve already paid. I prepaid six months¡¯ worth. Maybe Officer John didn¡¯t mention it to you.¡± The smile on Clark¡¯s face visibly faded. His eyes grew cold as he stared at Johnny. ¡°That¡¯s between you and John. He¡¯s no longer in charge here.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not like John. Everyone knows how greedy he was. From now on, you only need to pay fifty dollars a month.¡± ¡°Pay monthly.¡± This was the only viable solution. Before John left, he had drained every merchant in the area. After taking over, Clark assessed the situation and spent half an hour cursing John with his partner. But they still needed to find a way to collect the money. They decided to lower the fees and collect monthly. This seemed more feasible. John was indeed a greedy scoundrel who charged significantly higher dues than other districts, though his ruthless methods played a role in this. Clark didn¡¯t want a nasty reputation for himself. Eventually, they settled on a monthly fee of fifty dollars for thriving businesses and thirty dollars for others. Shops barely making thirty dollars a month in profit? Clark and his partner would force them out, handing the space to more capable merchants. For Clark, the initial collections were crucial. If he couldn¡¯t get Johnny to pay, others might resist too. Securing the most lucrative and challenging shopkeeper would set an example for the rest. ????¦¡??§£¨¨???? Inwardly cursing John for leaving such a mess and cursing Johnny for not seeing the bigger picture despite his injuries, Clark¡¯s expression hardened. Taking a deep breath, Clark said, ¡°Johnny, you know there are many eyes on us out there.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t make this difficult for me, and I won¡¯t make it hard for you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just fifty dollars.¡± Johnny stared at him for a moment, his voice hoarse with frustration. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not all talk, unlike John.¡± Clark¡¯s smile returned. ¡°You¡¯ll see me keep this neighborhood safe and sound!¡± Johnny gathered all the loose change in his money box, though he was still a few dollars short. Clark didn¡¯t seem to care about the small bills. He grabbed the money, pocketed it, and added, ¡°You¡¯re short five dollars. Let¡¯s call it my injury visit fee. Hope you recover soon¡ªI¡¯m looking forward to your bread again.¡± ¡°Johnny, you¡¯re a smart man. I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t embarrass me, and I won¡¯t make things hard for you either. If you need anything, just call the radio. They¡¯ll find me.¡± Outside the bakery, Clark tossed the collected money into a burlap sack held out by his partner through the car window. Watching shopkeepers cursed Johnny for caving under pressure while reluctantly preparing their own cash. These blood-sucking bastards, they thought, deserved to rot in hell. That afternoon, worse news arrived. A court notice informed Johnny of the hearing date¡ªand that the opposing party had hired a defense lawyer. Without a lawyer of his own, Johnny stood a significant chance of losing the case despite being the victim. Fortunately, Johnny had some savings, around seven or eight hundred dollars. He withdrew a portion and visited a modest law firm, paying twenty dollars for a consultation. The lawyer assured Johnny there was no need to worry. His apprentice had planned and executed a violent robbery. As the sole victim, Johnny¡¯s position was solid, even against a top-tier lawyer from Jingang City. The lawyer explained that the opposing side could only aim to reduce their clients¡¯ sentences and fines. To achieve this, they might offer compensation to seek Johnny¡¯s forgiveness, which would work in his favor. Reassured, Johnny thanked the lawyer and left, although the wasted twenty dollars still stung. He hadn¡¯t planned to hire a lawyer anyway, making the consultation unnecessary. That evening, business at the bakery was brisk as always. Johnny wasn¡¯t just a skilled baker; he understood his customers¡¯ needs. His bread was both filling and long-lasting, key to his success. By six o¡¯clock, the rush was over. After closing up, Johnny had his daughter wheel him to the display window. He gazed at the city, its colors coming alive in the darkening sky. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lost in thought, he only noticed the small card on the table beside him when his daughter came to clean up: Wanli Financial Consulting: Solving Your Financial Worries. Chapter 51: The Wooden Door and the Wooden Table Chapter 51: The Wooden Door and the Wooden TableMorning arrived, and Ennio and a few friends met outside his home, their faces alight with genuine smiles. Yesterday, they had wrapped up two deals, earning a total commission of eleven dollars. While eleven dollars might not seem like much, considering the times, it was significant. Illegal immigrants renting work cards from others often ended up with only a little over ten dollars in actual income. To put it into perspective, eleven dollars was roughly equivalent to a month¡¯s income for an illegal immigrant, yet they had made that much in a single afternoon. The speed of earning money like this could make anyone envious. Lance ensured immediate payment, distributing commissions right away to motivate his workers. In this world, nothing was immune to the lure of profit. If it didn¡¯t work, it simply meant the incentive wasn¡¯t high enough. For these young immigrants without stable jobs, eleven dollars was more than enough to get them to work hard for him. Ennio handed out cigarettes to his buddies. Today, he bought a pack for twenty-five cents, a rarity for them as they usually smoked homemade rolled cigarettes. Those were not only harsh but stained their teeth yellow. The small-packaged cigarettes, in contrast, were smoother and didn¡¯t yellow their teeth as much. During this time, all cigarettes were made from raw tobacco. Flue-cured tobacco wasn¡¯t widely available yet, as the market for female smokers hadn¡¯t grown enough for cigarette companies to take notice. When women began linking smoking with the fight for women¡¯s rights, cigarette companies would start promoting smoking among women. But that was still far in the future. The group of young men stood at the street corner, puffing away. Passersby instinctively veered off to avoid them, a silent show of resistance or even disdain. Yet, to these youths, this avoidance was a sign of their ¡°power¡± and ¡°coolness.¡± The area was predominantly populated by immigrants from the Empire, so most locals were familiar with one another. As the group chatted about who in the neighborhood might need a loan, a small, silent figure named Morris suddenly spoke up. ¡°I know a place where people definitely need money.¡± Morris was short, only about 1.5 meters tall even with shoes on. At seventeen, he was unlikely to grow much taller. He looked malnourished, his hair yellowed, and he wore an old, battered cap. His clothes were hand-me-downs from his brother, faded from too many washes. Ennio¡¯s interest was piqued. His father had divorced his mother after moving to the Federation, and now Ennio lived with him. Ennio harbored no gratitude toward the man¡ªonly resentment. His father was prone to violence, especially against family members. Working as a salesman at a company, his father earned a base salary of twenty dollars a month, but only if he closed at least one deal. Each additional sale brought in a commission. Ennio¡¯s mother had once tried persuading his father to find a higher-paying, stable job, like a factory line worker. Such jobs came with union protections and better pay, which could provide the family with financial stability. But his father dismissed the idea, believing it would ruin his potential future. He had read too many self-help books about sales legends and believed he would become the next big success¡ªowning his office, his company, even his brand. However, his reality was far less glamorous, often buying his own product just to meet sales quotas. Anyone who suggested he switch jobs was treated as an enemy trying to crush his dreams. At work, he tolerated insults and even physical affronts to make sales, his self-respect completely absent. But at home, he became a tyrant, venting his frustrations through violence. His low alcohol tolerance exacerbated this, as a single drink was enough to unleash his fury. One night, after stripping Ennio¡¯s mother and beating her with a belt in a drunken rage, she finally packed her things and left. In the Federation, their marriage wasn¡¯t legally registered, so they weren¡¯t considered married. After her departure, his father redirected his abuse toward Ennio. Initially, Ennio could only endure it, but as he grew older, he began to fight back. Ennio¡¯s sole desire now was to earn enough money to leave this wretched home. So when Morris mentioned a place where people needed loans, Ennio¡¯s interest was immediately piqued. His throat felt dry as he took a drag from his cigarette, savoring the bitter tar that seemed to soothe him. ¡°Where?¡± he asked. ¡°Behind the Lebby house, there¡¯s a building with a gambling den. My father goes there often. There¡¯s bound to be people in need of cash,¡± Morris replied. Ennio¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Right, I¡¯ve heard about that place too.¡± He could barely contain himself. ¡°Why don¡¯t we check it out now?¡± Some of the group hesitated, but the others were keen, so the hesitant ones followed along. The group of seven or eight youths strode through the streets, their presence causing pedestrians to step aside with looks of disdain. No one wanted to cross paths with young men like them, who might suddenly pull a knife and demand their money. The gambling den wasn¡¯t far, less than two kilometers away. In about fifteen minutes, they stood before a wooden door in an alley behind the main street. The door looked like it led to a basement. Morris knocked, and a metal peephole slid open with a clink, revealing a pair of scrutinizing eyes. After a brief glance at the group, the peephole shut. Just as they thought they wouldn¡¯t get in, the door creaked open. ¡°Your father isn¡¯t here today,¡± the bouncer said. Morris, visibly nervous, replied, ¡°I brought some friends. They wanted to check the place out.¡± The bouncer¡¯s gaze swept over the group again, settling on Ennio. ¡°Got money?¡± S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Ennio pulled out two five-dollar bills. The bouncer hesitated before stepping aside. ¡°Don¡¯t cause trouble, or you¡¯ll regret it.¡± The group exhaled in relief, smiling as they slipped inside. The air was damp, hot, and carried a sour stench, like a mix of sweat and rot¡ªa familiar odor among the homeless. ????B§§???? Descending a narrow staircase about ten meters down, they entered a room barely seventy square meters in size, which buzzed with activity. Six tables were crammed into the space, each surrounded by sweaty gamblers. Even with several fans running, the heat was oppressive. Some gamblers shouted, others laughed hysterically, while a few pounded the tables in regret and despair. The scene was chaotic and overwhelming for the young men. Although some patrons noticed their arrival, they quickly looked away upon recognizing Morris, a familiar face. Morris often accompanied his father here, running errands like fetching cigarettes or snacks. Sometimes, other patrons tipped him a penny or two for errands. Morris explained the games to his friends, pointing out a popular blackjack table. ¡°This is blackjack. Three of the tables here run blackjack games,¡± he said. Each table had six seats, but even those standing behind the players could place bets. Sitting at the table, however, gave a more immersive experience. Blackjack had recently become popular in the Federation, spreading to every casino and attracting large crowds. Compared to more complicated games, blackjack¡¯s simple rules and strategic elements made it a favorite among gamblers. Here, there were no chips. This small underground casino dealt strictly in cash. Ennio¡¯s breathing quickened as he watched the piles of money on the table grow to over a hundred dollars in mere moments. He had never seen so much money in his life. Morris, more composed, cautioned him. ¡°It¡¯s addicting.¡± Chapter 52: The Definition of Happiness Chapter 52: The Definition of HappinessEnnio¡¯s breathing quickened, and the constant movement of cash on the gambling table made his throat itch and mouth go dry. He had never seen so much money in his life! His father, an Imperial immigrant striving to emulate Federation citizens, only ever told him to follow the Federation¡¯s laws but never taught him to pursue happiness. Over the past two decades, Ennio¡¯s life had been nothing but poverty and suffering. Yet, as all this money appeared before him, in that moment, he understood poverty, hardship, and the root of all misfortune¡ªit was money! Yes, having money brought happiness; lacking it brought pain. It was an undeniable truth. If his father had money, he wouldn¡¯t have vented his frustrations at home through domestic violence, and his mother wouldn¡¯t have left them. If his father had money, Ennio wouldn¡¯t be hanging around with these poor kids, racking his brains over how to scrape together more cash for tomorrow. Instead, he¡¯d be cruising around the Bay Area in the latest convertible, talking about dreams with pretty girls. Money brings happiness, but it also causes pain. All this money¡ªsurely it would bring him happiness. He only needed to place five dollars on the table and try his luck. Five dollars could turn into ten. He glanced at Morris, who was staring back at him, shaking his head slightly. ¡°Think about my father.¡± Morris¡¯s father was a gambling addict¡ªa ¡°gambler dog¡±¡ªeven back in the Empire. Their family¡¯s move to the Federation was itself a desperate gamble. His father sold their only house to escape creditors, hoping life in the Federation would bring happiness. But life in the Federation was anything but happy. His father couldn¡¯t find work and eventually resorted to pimping Morris¡¯s mother. At first, her services fetched seven or eight dollars a session, then five, and now only three. At least a third of the men on this street had been to Morris¡¯s house, walking down the very path he was born on. At first, Morris hated it, but now he felt numb. His father always believed he could win back his losses at the gambling table, but the reality was that he only lost more. Ennio knew that pitiful and loathsome man. Slowly, his grip on his cash loosened. Morris let go of Ennio¡¯s hand and watched him return the money to his pocket. ¡°We¡¯re here to make money, not lose it,¡± Morris said. ¡°I¡¯ve been around here for years and never seen anyone walk away with real winnings. Everyone loses!¡± As they spoke, a gambler at one of the tables called for another card amidst loud cheers from those around him. His hand totaled twelve, a precarious score. Out of a standard deck of fifty-two cards, only sixteen were tens (including face cards). With five already visible on the table, only eleven tens remained in the remaining thirty-eight cards¡ªgiving him a 28% chance of busting. But gamblers don¡¯t calculate odds. If they did, they wouldn¡¯t be sitting at a gambling table¡ªthey¡¯d be in some corporate office. All the gambler knew was that there were fewer tens left, so he believed the odds were in his favor. He called for a card. The dealer flipped a ten. ¡°Busted, buddy,¡± the dealer said, sweeping the man¡¯s cards and chips from the table. Someone in the crowd behind him smacked the gambler on the head. ¡°Idt,¡± they sneered. The gambler stood abruptly, glaring at the innocent-looking faces around him. ¡°You told me to call for another card!¡± A voice from the crowd jeered, ¡°They also told you to eat sh*t.¡± Cursing, the gambler checked his pockets but found no more money and reluctantly gave up his seat. The spot was quickly claimed by others, who exchanged sarcastic ¡°polite¡± greetings about each other¡¯s families as they jostled for the seat. ?¨¤??¦¢¦¥???? Morris tilted his head slightly, signaling to Ennio, who immediately followed him. ¡°Lost everything?¡± Ennio asked. The gambler rolled his eyes. ¡°Why, you gonna give me money?¡± Ennio nodded. ¡°I can lend you some.¡± For a gambler, someone offering money¡ªno matter the source or conditions¡ªwas always welcome. They were utterly convinced that this time they¡¯d win it all back and then some. ¡°You from the casino?¡± ¡°Never seen you here before,¡± the gambler remarked. Ennio handed him a cigarette, one of the small-packaged ones. The gambler whistled. ¡°So, what¡¯s the interest?¡± He assumed Ennio was part of the casino. Aside from running games, casinos often offered high-interest loans to desperate gamblers. The terms didn¡¯t matter¡ªannual, monthly, or daily interest rates¡ªas long as the gambler believed they could win back their losses. ¡°You got a permanent residency card?¡± Ennio asked. The gambler lit the cigarette and exhaled slowly. ¡°You care about that now?¡± Ennio nodded. ¡°Having a work card makes it easier.¡± He kept his words vague. ¡°How much can you lend me?¡± ¡°Up to a hundred.¡± The gambler froze. It was unheard of for the casino to lend that much¡ªusually just twenty or thirty dollars. Since the gamblers here were locals, everyone knew each other¡¯s financial situation, making big loans unnecessary. ¡°What¡¯s the interest?¡± ¡°Not more than thirty.¡± ¡°Per week?¡± Ennio shook his head. ¡°Per month.¡± The gambler, who had planned to leave after finishing his cigarette, suddenly became interested. ¡°What happens if I can¡¯t repay?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll hand over your work card for us to use for a while.¡± Among the lower classes, they knew better than anyone the significance of a work card in the Federation and its value among illegal immigrants. The gambler hesitated. ¡°How will I get the money? Is there a contract?¡± Ennio explained the terms simply, then motioned to Morris. Together, they escorted the gambler outside. The bouncer at the door let them pass without a word, recognizing Ennio as an Imperial immigrant. No way would someone so young be working for the police. Ennio made a call, and Lance arrived shortly after with a contract in hand. Lance gave the gambler a once-over. ¡°He knows the terms?¡± sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The gambler smiled obsequiously. ¡°Yep, work card as collateral, and you¡¯ll cut me a check.¡± Lance presented the contract, detailing that the gambler owed one hundred dollars and was to repay thirty-eight dollars monthly for six months. If he defaulted, his work card would be retained for at least nine months, up to a year. After some hesitation, the gambler agreed. The terms were steep, but he could manage thirty-eight dollars a month. His primary job paid thirty-five dollars and fifty cents, and his side gig brought in an additional seventeen dollars, giving him fifty-two dollars and fifty cents in total¡ªmore than the average Federation citizen. With his income, he could survive on the remaining fifteen dollars after payments. And with this hundred dollars, he was confident he¡¯d double it at the table. After signing the contract and handing over the required collateral, Lance handed the gambler twenty five-dollar bills. The gambler cursed under his breath but strode back to the casino, ready to win it all back. As the gambler disappeared, Lance handed Ennio six dollars and fifty cents¡ªhis commission. Ennio¡¯s heartbeat quickened. ¡°Thank you!¡± he said earnestly. Lance patted his arm. ¡°Mutual benefit. Business is good here; I might consider opening another branch nearby. It¡¯d make operations easier.¡± ¡°That¡¯d be amazing!¡± Ennio said, carefully pocketing the cash. ¡°I¡¯ll head back now. These next few days might trouble you with a few more trips.¡± ¡°Not trouble at all. I¡¯d prefer it if you troubled me more¡ªthat way, we both make more money.¡± Lance handed him two packs of cigarettes from his car. ¡°Call me if you need anything. I¡¯ll be at the office most of the time.¡± Clutching the cigarettes and his freshly earned money, Ennio felt one step closer to happiness. As Ennio walked away, Lance drove back to his company. Only two or three employees were lounging inside; the rest were out drumming up business. The nearby area was relatively easy to work in¡ªjust bring people in. For clients further away, things were trickier. Lance realized he needed to expedite plans for his team to learn how to drive or rent small offices elsewhere with just two rooms. That way, everything would be more efficient. Chapter 53: Crossing the Line Chapter 53: Crossing the LineWith a loud clang, the door swung open. The burly man inside stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at Ennio. ¡°This isn¡¯t a playground. Coming in and out like this might bring unnecessary trouble. You know what I mean?¡± Casinos in the Federation required a special operating license to function legally, so most were technically illegal. However, Jingang City was unique. Its strategic location attracted sailors and travelers from around the world, prompting the state government to authorize casinos under strict regulations. To operate legally, casinos needed full documentation and special licenses. Legitimate casinos paid hefty taxes¡ª83% of their income went to three levels of government: local, state, and federal. For the Kodak Family, which ran legal casinos in Jingang City, this left about 9% profit. Yet even that was an astronomical amount, making them one of the cleanest families in the city compared to others steeped in illegal activities like smuggling, kidnapping, extortion, and protection rackets. While the Kodaks weren¡¯t completely uninvolved in such crimes, their casino profits largely met their financial needs. Compared to the other families, whose very essence seemed steeped in corruption, the Kodaks appeared almost saintly. But precisely because of the massive profits, the Kodak Family dealt with illegal casinos more ruthlessly than the government. To maintain their dominance in Jingang City¡¯s gambling industry, they gave illegal operators two options upon discovery: Install a Kodak accountant and hand over 70% of their revenue as an ¡°authorization fee.¡± Pay a hefty fine, shut down, and leave Jingang City permanently. There was, of course, a third, unofficial option: conflict. Gunfights often erupted, leading to another ¡°miracle¡± rise in Angel Lake¡¯s water level. Illegal casinos sought to avoid such risks by frequently relocating and carefully screening patrons. Ennio pulled out a cigarette from the pack Lance had given him and handed it to the bouncer. ¡°I went out to buy some smokes,¡± he explained. The bouncer scrutinized the cigarette, then Ennio, before stepping aside to let him in. ¡°Don¡¯t make things difficult for me,¡± he warned. ¡°Thank you,¡± Ennio said, slipping back inside. The gambler he had lent money to was back at the blackjack table, waving cash as he placed his bets. Blackjack¡¯s appeal lay in its semblance of fairness¡ªat least compared to other games. The gambler was having a lucky streak, already up twelve dollars. It seemed he had recouped his losses. Ennio didn¡¯t care. Even if the gambler repaid the loan early, the agreed interest was still owed. The noisy atmosphere, thick with the smell of cigarettes, sweat, bad breath, and foot odor, wove a web of desire, trapping everyone in the basement. By evening, they had closed four deals, earning fourteen dollars in commissions. Not everyone borrowed the full hundred; many only took thirty or fifty, which reduced the payouts slightly. Even so, fourteen dollars kept the young men euphoric. They were simply standing around, watching for anyone who ran out of money and offering loans¡ªbarely lifting a finger to make money. The ease of earning made them giddy. ¡°Money is so easy to make,¡± was their unanimous thought. Morris, however, seemed less thrilled. ¡°My mom can make three bucks in fifteen minutes,¡± he joked darkly. As night fell, the casino grew busier, but Ennio and his friends left. The company had closed for the day, and Lance had gone home. Seeing the success of Ennio¡¯s loans, Lance decided to rent a small property nearby to set up a ¡°branch office.¡± A cheap place costing two or three dollars a month would suffice¡ªit was for business, not comfort. --- When the casino closed, the dealers gathered to chat. ¡°Did you hear? That gambler lost over a hundred bucks today,¡± one blackjack dealer said, laughing. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The others chuckled. As skilled professionals, they had techniques to ensure the house always won. For instance, they often placed three ten-point cards at the bottom of the deck during shuffling, enabling them to control who busted and who didn¡¯t. ?a£Î¨¯?????? Additionally, they always ensured the top card in the deck was an Ace, which could count as either one or eleven in blackjack. Combined with the last three cards, it guaranteed a house win. Gamblers rarely noticed these tricks, focusing instead on their own hands. The owner of the casino, gnawing on a beef bone, perked up. ¡°Where¡¯d he get that much money?¡± he asked. He knew most of his patrons and was familiar with the gambler in question, who usually wagered just a few dollars before leaving. The dealers shrugged. ¡°No idea. He went out for a bit and came back with cash.¡± Another dealer chimed in, ¡°Yeah, someone at my table did the same¡ªleft broke and came back with money.¡± The casino owner frowned, wiping his mouth. ¡°Find someone who knows them. I want to know what¡¯s going on.¡± If patrons resorted to crime to fund their gambling, it could bring trouble to his doorstep. The police loved raiding illegal casinos¡ªnot just to confiscate cash but to extort the operators for leniency in court. Before long, they brought in one of the gamblers for questioning. ¡°How much did you lose today?¡± the owner asked, his tone calm yet firm. ¡°Thirty-seven bucks,¡± the gambler replied with a grimace. The owner suppressed a laugh. After expenses, dealer cuts, and other costs, he¡¯d netted about twenty-five dollars in profit from this fool. No wonder people called the Kodak Family a cash cow¡ªthey raked in unimaginable sums daily. ¡°Shame about your luck,¡± the owner said. ¡°Why¡¯d you bet so much? Payday isn¡¯t for another two weeks. You didn¡¯t steal to gamble, did you?¡± The gambler paled as the bouncers loomed closer, their intimidating presence enough to unsettle anyone. ¡°N-no! I borrowed thirty-five bucks!¡± he stammered. The owner¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware we loaned money today.¡± The cashier and other dealers shook their heads in confusion. The owner fixed his gaze on the gambler. ¡°You¡¯d better explain yourself. You know the rules here.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t from the casino,¡± the gambler admitted hastily. ¡°Morris and some other kids lent it to me. Low interest, flexible terms¡­¡± The owner turned to the bouncer. ¡°You let them in?¡± The bouncer hesitated, then nodded. ¡°He said he was showing his friends around.¡± The owner¡¯s lips curled into a smile. He gathered the leftover beef bones into a dish and handed it to the gambler. ¡°Take these home for the kids,¡± he said. The gambler, surprised, thanked him profusely. ¡°Your generosity is like the sun¡¯s warmth¡­¡± ¡°Save the flattery,¡± the owner interrupted, laughing. ¡°I¡¯m not refunding your losses.¡± As the gambler left, the owner¡¯s smile faded. Picking his teeth with a steel pick, he muttered, ¡°Someone¡¯s crossed the line.¡± Chapter 54: A Small Problem Chapter 54: A Small Problem A ham, tomato, and egg sandwich is undoubtedly better than plain bread. That afternoon, a group of young men strolled down the street, holding freshly made ham and egg sandwiches from the bakery. Their faces radiated happiness. They were poor, and for the poor, even when they could afford ham and egg sandwiches, they wouldn¡¯t usually buy them. Spending fifteen cents on something that wouldn¡¯t fill them up made less sense than spending five cents on something more substantial. Life wasn¡¯t romantic¡ªespecially when you were poor. If someone told you that poverty could be romantic, you should consider what they covet about you. Is it the boundless possibilities your path represents, or the vulnerability they could exploit? Life¡¯s challenges weren¡¯t just about surviving hardship but also protecting your thoughts and principles. For these twenty-something-year-olds, who considered one-dollar-per-pound beef a luxury, tasting ham for the first time was a revelation. Even the thin slices in their sandwiches filled them with new hope for the future. ¡°This is amazing,¡± Ennio exclaimed, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. ¡°I¡¯ve never had anything like this. It¡¯s even better than I imagined!¡± He stared at his sandwich. ¡°I can¡¯t describe this flavor¡ªthere¡¯s a smoky taste and another unique aroma that keeps filling my mouth.¡± Breathing out, he sniffed the air. ¡°My breath smells like ham now!¡± The combination of his usual bad breath mixed with the ham nearly made him gag. Unlike Ennio¡¯s boisterous enthusiasm, Morris ate quietly. Even though his mother could earn decent money, he¡¯d never tasted a ham sandwich before either. The flavor gave him an unsettling sense of unreality, stirring a desire deep within him. With more money, he thought, he and his family could feel this kind of happiness every day. The others chimed in with similar sentiments. Although the breakfast had cost over a dollar, they didn¡¯t feel it was extravagant. After all, they now earned ten or more dollars daily¡ªabout two dollars per person. Spending fifteen cents on a delicious treat didn¡¯t seem unreasonable. After finishing their sandwiches, the group stood at the alley¡¯s entrance. Ennio pulled out a cigarette, handing one to each of his friends. Leaning against the wall, they smoked together, their exhales forming clouds in the air. They arrived at the alley destined to be their ¡°path of wealth.¡± Ennio knocked on the wooden door. A clinking sound signaled the metal peephole sliding open, and a pair of eyes appeared behind it. ¡°We¡¯re here for some fun. We came by yesterday; you should remember us,¡± Ennio said casually, glancing at his companions. The peephole snapped shut, and the door creaked open. This time, the guard was someone unfamiliar. He looked stern and scanned the group impolitely before sluggishly stepping aside to let them in. Ennio lingered for a moment, sizing the man up before leading his friends inside. The bouncer didn¡¯t close the door immediately; he stepped outside to survey the area before returning to lock the door behind them. ????¨¤£Î?????¨¨???? As they descended the stairs, they noticed an unusual silence. Yesterday, the noise from below had been audible halfway down the staircase, but now only their footsteps echoed. Reaching the casino, they found it eerily empty. The once-crowded room was deserted. A few bouncers lounged near the tables, and the dealers were tidying up the games. In the center of the room, a man sat on a couch, leaning forward and fiddling with a pistol. Ennio sensed something was wrong and tried to back away, but the bouncer had already blocked the staircase. They were trapped. The casino owner looked them over. He recognized Morris, a familiar face at the casino. The others seemed vaguely familiar, perhaps seen somewhere before. Leaning back into the couch, he stated, ¡°Yesterday, you offered loans to my customers in my casino.¡± His tone was cold and assertive, brooking no argument. ¡°You broke the rules. You crossed the line.¡± The bouncers stood, some wielding bats, others holding knives. The young men froze in fear, trembling. Ennio¡¯s body shook slightly. His most violent act before this had been schoolyard brawls, which seemed trivial compared to facing these lawless men. ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t know there were rules. This is my first time doing this,¡± Ennio stammered, trying to explain. The casino owner pulled a half-smoked cigar from his pocket, relit it, and gestured with his chin. ¡°Teach these kids a lesson.¡± --- That afternoon, Lance had just returned from the Commercial Services Bureau. He had successfully registered a labor agency under the name "Wanli Labor Agency," specializing in hiring workers and leasing labor. Of course, the paperwork didn¡¯t state these purposes explicitly. Jingang City had many such agencies, some already well-established. The largest share of the market had long been claimed, but Lance wasn¡¯t too late. He had his resources. As he arrived at his office, he noticed Morris sitting outside, with Mello trying to comfort him. ¡°What happened?¡± Lance asked, approaching them. Both stood immediately, revealing Morris¡¯s bruised and swollen face. He looked like he¡¯d been severely beaten. ¡°Who did this to you?¡± ¡°The casino owner,¡± Morris growled through gritted teeth. ¡°He said we shouldn¡¯t have done business in his casino. He beat us up, took all our money, and kept the others. He told me to find you and said if you don¡¯t handle this, they¡¯ll kill Ennio and the others!¡± His body trembled as he spoke, whether from fear or anger. Lance¡¯s expression darkened. Doing business in someone else¡¯s casino was indeed crossing a line. But beating them, taking their money, and threatening their lives seemed excessive¡ªprobably just an intimidation tactic. Handing his paperwork to Mello, Lance said, ¡°I¡¯ll go take a look.¡± ¡°Will it be dangerous?¡± Mello asked, concerned. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Lance replied, shaking his head. He ushered Morris into the car and drove off. Along the way, he had Morris recount everything in detail, from their activities to what had happened when they were caught. ¡°¡­My father always loses money gambling, and every time I go, I see people borrowing money after losing everything. That¡¯s why I thought we could make something out of it.¡± ¡°¡­They didn¡¯t let us explain and asked us which company we worked for. We didn¡¯t tell them,¡± Morris said, sneaking a glance at Lance. ¡°Ennio didn¡¯t say anything at first, but when they broke his arm, he couldn¡¯t hold back anymore.¡± Lance¡¯s face remained impassive as he drove. He wasn¡¯t upset about Ennio ¡°betraying¡± him. Their relationship was merely transactional; Ennio wasn¡¯t obligated to protect him. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. If anything, Lance thought Ennio was foolish for enduring torture before talking. The information would¡¯ve come out eventually¡ªwhy suffer first? Still, perhaps it reflected a kind of youthful stubbornness, a sense of loyalty. --- Arriving at the Lesu Group¡¯s offices, Lance told Morris, ¡°Wait in the car. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡± Inside, the receptionist barely glanced at him, greeting him with a half-hearted wave before returning to her crossword puzzle. Lance found Fordis in the break room playing pinball. Spotting Lance, Fordis quickly set down the game and greeted him with a warm embrace. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you. What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Your guys handled the last job a bit roughly, but it turned out fine,¡± Lance said curtly before cutting to the chase. ¡°I need a gun.¡± Fordis¡¯s expression turned serious. ¡°No problem. Need help?¡± Lance shook his head. ¡°Just a minor issue. Some friends got detained at an underground casino. I¡¯ll handle it myself.¡± Fordis looked surprised. ¡°If it¡¯s not a Kodak-sanctioned casino, you could report it to them. They¡¯ll pay you and deal with the problem.¡± ¡°How long would that take?¡± ¡°Two or three days. They run more like a government agency than a gang¡ªslow as hell.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t wait that long. I¡¯ll get them out first and decide what to do after. Also, I need a knife.¡± Fordis led Lance upstairs to a workshop where a burly man was working at a lathe. At Fordis¡¯s request, the man handed Lance a snub-nosed revolver. ¡°It¡¯s a Magray Police Defender. No serial number. I re-rifled the barrel, so it¡¯s clean. If you get caught, don¡¯t drag us into it,¡± the man warned. After testing the gun at the range and paying $150, Lance left with the revolver, a box of bullets, and a sharp knife provided by Fordis. When Morris saw the gun, his fear vanished, replaced by awe. To him, a gun represented absolute power. Chapter 55: One Chance Chapter 55: One Chance The car wheels rolled to a stop, pressing down the unsettled dust that had just begun to rise. The cheap vehicle, worth no more than two or three hundred dollars, parked in an alley across the street from the casino. Lance placed the revolver in the car¡¯s center console. He wasn¡¯t sure if they would search him, and carrying the gun could end up arming his opponents if confiscated. The folding knife, however, was tucked discreetly behind his belt at his waist, a spot less likely to be searched. After preparing himself, Lance turned to Morris. ¡°Stay in the car. If I¡¯m not back in thirty minutes, call this number and have them come find me.¡± He handed Morris a slip of paper with Alberto¡¯s number. ¡°Though,¡± Lance added, ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll need to use it.¡± Lance had initially refused Fordis¡¯s offer of help to avoid owing favors, but if his life was truly at stake, he¡¯d rather owe a favor than gamble with survival. That said, he didn¡¯t believe his life was in real danger. Killing over a handful of inexperienced kids wasn¡¯t worth the risk of becoming a wanted criminal. This wasn¡¯t the Wild West, where you could vanish into the wilderness. In a city, both the police and criminal gangs would be after you, along with professional bounty hunters¡ªspecialists in tracking fugitives for rewards. The Federation¡¯s bounty hunters were a unique group who thrived on apprehending criminals for money. They originated in the West but spread across the country, drawn by government-issued bounties that offered a cost-effective alternative to deploying police forces. And Lance had another safeguard: money. Nobody refused money, and money was Lance¡¯s trump card. Morris nodded obediently, staying in the car. Lance crossed the street, heading to the wooden door at the building¡¯s rear. He knocked. The peephole slid open, and suspicious eyes peered out. ¡°You the one we¡¯re waiting for?¡± Lance stood confidently. ¡°If I¡¯ve got the right place, then yes, I¡¯m the one.¡± The door opened, revealing a brawny man. Lance, dressed in a dark shirt, appeared unarmed, but the man still insisted on a pat-down. After a quick search, he was allowed in. ¡°Go straight down. The lit room¡ªboss is waiting,¡± the man instructed. Lance nodded, descending the stairs with steady steps. --- Inside the room, the young men, including Ennio, knelt on the floor, clutching their ears. Ennio¡¯s left arm hung limp, the radius fractured. A guard stood behind them with a stick, ready to strike anyone who let go of their ears. What began as a seemingly manageable punishment turned unbearable after several minutes. Faced with the choice between aching arms or pulled ears, most chose the latter, though they could hardly endure it. Their grimaces and squirming created a comical scene, one at odds with the otherwise tense atmosphere. When Lance entered, he couldn¡¯t help but laugh softly. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, suppressing his amusement. ¡°Funny, is it?¡± The casino owner, Kent, straddled a chair backward, resting his chin on its backrest. Lance nodded lightly. ¡°A bit, yes. It¡¯s my first time seeing this method¡ªit¡¯s rather creative.¡± He gestured toward his pocket. ¡°Mind if I smoke?¡± Kent scrutinized him for a moment before replying, ¡°Go ahead.¡± Turning to a guard, he ordered, ¡°Get our guest a chair.¡± Kent adjusted his chair to face Lance as the latter took a seat, lit a cigarette, and exhaled. ¡°So¡­¡± Kent, intrigued by Lance¡¯s calm demeanor, studied him intently. His original plan had been straightforward: gauge the financial company¡¯s strength. If they were formidable, he¡¯d let them go, fostering goodwill for potential future dealings in Jingang City, a place where paths inevitably crossed. ????§¡?¨®£Â§§???? If they were weak, he¡¯d squeeze them for money, feeling justified since Lance¡¯s team had broken the unwritten rules. However, Lance¡¯s composed demeanor made it hard for Kent to determine if he was dealing with a strong player or an overconfident rookie. ¡°You broke the rules,¡± Kent began. ¡°Your people lent money in my casino without my permission. That¡¯s your mistake.¡± It was customary for loan sharks to negotiate terms with casino owners, offering 20¨C30% of their profits to operate on-site. Ennio and his friends bypassed this process entirely, disrupting the established order. Lance acknowledged the error. ¡°You¡¯re right¡ªit¡¯s my fault. I¡¯m Lance. And you are¡­?¡± ¡°Kent,¡± the owner replied curtly. ¡°Very well, Mr. Kent. What must I do to take them with me?¡± Kent scrutinized Lance for two minutes, his expression unchanged, but his eyes flickered with caution, greed, and curiosity. The clean-cut, smiling young man before him didn¡¯t fit the image of a hardened finance operator. Instead, he seemed harmless¡ªlike a university student. In most places, such an appearance would inspire trust. Here, it risked being seen as weakness. Kent¡¯s gaze lingered on Lance¡¯s attire¡ªa clean, expensive outfit. Licking his lips, he finally said, ¡°Fifteen hundred dollars. Take them and go.¡± He had initially intended to ask for five hundred but raised the figure to test Lance¡¯s reaction. Lance raised an eyebrow, chuckling lightly. ¡°Fifteen hundred? That¡¯s steep, Mr. Kent.¡± ¡°That kind of money could buy several lives, yet you¡¯re only asking to take them away,¡± he continued, his tone conversational. ¡°Perhaps we could be friends instead?¡± Kent detected a subtle undercurrent in Lance¡¯s words¡ªa veiled threat. His expression hardened. ¡°Are you threatening me?¡± ¡°Not at all,¡± Lance replied evenly. ¡°I¡¯m just noting the price is difficult to accept.¡± Kent reiterated his position firmly. ¡°Your people made a mistake in my casino. If you want friendship, fine¡ªbut only after I get paid.¡± The guards began moving closer, ready to act on Kent¡¯s command. Lance remained unflustered, showing no signs of fear or anxiety. Like a stray dog confronting an unfamiliar person, Kent hesitated. Lance¡¯s calmness suggested he had hidden resources, making Kent uncertain. ¡°Where¡¯s Morris?¡± Kent asked suddenly, glancing at the bouncer near the stairs. ¡°I didn¡¯t see him,¡± the man replied. ¡°Only this gentleman came.¡± Kent grew thoughtful. His tone softened slightly. ¡°My father always taught me: when you make a mistake, you must take responsibility. That¡¯s your duty, Mr. Lance. ¡°Fifteen hundred. Or¡­¡± He glanced at the kneeling boys. ¡°I break their legs, and you take them as they are.¡± Lance turned to look at the group. They avoided his gaze, embarrassed by their capture, their injuries, and their betrayal in revealing Lance¡¯s name. ¡°Lance, don¡¯t¡ª¡± Ennio began, only to be silenced by a blow that left him writhing on the floor. The guards stepped back at Kent¡¯s signal. Lance didn¡¯t react emotionally, maintaining his composure. After a moment, he turned back to Kent with a smile as if discussing a pleasant topic. ¡°Fifteen hundred dollars,¡± Lance repeated. ¡°Cash or check?¡± Kent burst into laughter, lighting his cigar. For him, such moments¡ªwhether frustrating or amusing¡ªalways called for a smoke. ¡°You¡¯re a smart man, Lance!¡± Kent declared. ¡°Cash. Checks are a hassle for us.¡± S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 56: Stand Tall, and Don’t Apologize Chapter 56: Stand Tall, and Don¡¯t Apologize Fifteen hundred dollars was a significant sum for this era. When Lance returned to the casino after a brief absence and placed a brown paper bag on the table, Kent¡¯s face lit up with a smug smile. Rubbing his hands together eagerly, Kent reached for the bag. However, Lance pressed it down, preventing him from taking it. Kent froze, confusion turning to irritation, but something in Lance¡¯s eyes made him pause. Kent eventually understood. ¡°Let them stand up,¡± he ordered. A guard kicked Ennio hard in the shoulder, sending him sprawling forward. He struggled to his feet with the help of his companions. The group quietly moved behind Lance. Only then did Lance release his grip on the paper bag. ¡°You¡¯re a man of principles, Lance. I think we¡¯ll be great friends!¡± Kent declared, laughing heartily. Anyone willing to hand over fifteen hundred dollars was someone worth befriending in his eyes. Kent didn¡¯t immediately inspect the bag. Instead, he opened it and inhaled deeply, a look of pure delight crossing his face. ¡°Ah, the smell of money!¡± After savoring the moment, he emptied the bag onto the table. The contents spilled out¡ªten-dollar bills, neatly bundled into rolls of ten, with rubber bands holding them together. Fifteen rolls in total. Kent used his arms to gather the cash protectively, looking utterly ridiculous as he grinned from ear to ear. He randomly picked a roll, counted it, and nodded with satisfaction. Once the money was back in the bag, his gaze landed on Lance, his demeanor shifting to something smug and disdainful. ¡°Well,¡± Kent said, ¡°you can all get out of here now. Consider this fifteen hundred bucks a lesson for your friends.¡± Lance stood up calmly, adjusting his clothes. With a faint smile, he replied, ¡°I hope you sleep well tonight, Kent.¡± Kent scoffed, unimpressed by the veiled threat. ¡°I sleep like a baby.¡± Lance said nothing, simply nodding before leaving with the others. As the group left the casino, Kent¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Pack up. We¡¯re moving,¡± he ordered. One of his trusted guards frowned. ¡°Boss, is that necessary? Business here is good.¡± Picking his nose nonchalantly, Kent handed the cash bag to his accountant. ¡°The business is fine, but we¡¯ve got a problem now. Staying here isn¡¯t worth it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t fear trouble, but that doesn¡¯t mean I like it. Besides, we¡¯ve been here long enough. It¡¯s time to relocate. Tonight.¡± The guard didn¡¯t argue further, nodding obediently. ¡°You¡¯re the boss.¡± Kent wasn¡¯t afraid of Lance reporting him to the authorities or the Kodak Family. He had solid connections with local police¡ªlast month, he¡¯d met with the precinct chief and his assistant. For a few dozen dollars a month, the cops turned a blind eye and even warned him of impending trouble. His ties to the Camille Gang, via his brother, further bolstered his confidence. Still, resolving the fallout would cost money and favors. Worse, his brother would kill him if things escalated. ???¨°B¨º? With Kent¡¯s orders given, his crew began packing. They had a truck for their essential items¡ªgambling tables and equipment. Everything else was disposable and replaceable. Meanwhile, outside the casino, as soon as they reached the surface, Ennio blurted out, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Lance stopped abruptly, grabbing Ennio by the back of the neck and pressing their foreheads together. His expression was stern. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize to me, Ennio.¡± The others froze, startled by Lance¡¯s sudden intensity. They already felt the weight of their mistake, especially after witnessing Lance hand over such a large sum of money to save them. Fear gnawed at their insides. Summoning his courage, Ennio clenched his teeth. ¡°I¡¯ll pay you back, Lance.¡± ¡°And how will you do that?¡± Lance asked, ruffling Ennio¡¯s hair roughly. ¡°Pay me three dollars a month for the next fifty years? Great joke. You¡¯ve got me laughing.¡± Releasing him, Lance turned to the group. ¡°I¡¯ve told Elvin and Ethan before: if someone slaps you, and you don¡¯t hit back, they¡¯ll kick you next time. Maybe even crap on your head.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll know you¡¯re a coward who won¡¯t retaliate.¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t want that, remember this: blood for blood, tooth for tooth.¡± ¡°Shame can only be washed away with blood. Hatred can only be resolved through destruction. Standing here trembling like quails and apologizing won¡¯t fix anything!¡± ¡°What we¡¯ll do is take back that fifteen hundred dollars¡ªwith interest!¡± ¡°They broke your arm and beat you to a pulp. We¡¯ll return the favor twice over.¡± Taking a deep breath, Lance continued. ¡°Kent and his crew will move soon¡ªprobably in the next two days. Watch them closely. Find out where they go, where they stay, and where they sleep.¡± ¡°Can you do that?¡± Ennio¡¯s expression hardened, his voice firm. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. I swear.¡± Lance patted his cheek and handed him two hundred dollars. ¡°Get your arm checked out, buy some clothes, and keep an eye on those bastards for me.¡± Turning to the group, he asked, ¡°Anyone here know how to ride a bike?¡± A young man raised his hand. ¡°I do, Lance.¡± ¡°Good. Get a bike. If they drive off, follow them, but don¡¯t let them spot you.¡± ¡°Listen up, everyone,¡± Lance said, his tone sharp. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you¡¯re thinking¡ªwhether you want revenge or not. But for me, this isn¡¯t over!¡± ¡°No one beats you, takes my money, and walks away to live happily ever after. No one!¡± ¡°Call me if you find anything.¡± After giving a few more instructions, Lance left. Fifteen hundred dollars¡ªwas it a lot? Absolutely. But earning it back wouldn¡¯t take long. There¡¯s a saying: the most profitable businesses are written into criminal law. There¡¯s some truth to that. Back at the office, Elvin approached Lance as soon as he arrived. ¡°I heard Morris came by. Did something happen?¡± Lance explained the situation briefly. Fury flashed across Elvin¡¯s face. Lately, Elvin had grown more confident, thanks to the group¡¯s increasing unity and financial success. Even when faced with trouble, they believed one thing: Lance would have their backs. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± Elvin asked. Lance sat at his desk, lit a cigarette, and exhaled slowly. ¡°This money wasn¡¯t a free gift. Kent will pay dearly for it.¡± Elvin¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°What do you need us to do?¡± ¡°Focus on your tasks for now. I¡¯ll let you know when it¡¯s time to act.¡± Later that afternoon, Ethan returned to the office, visibly excited. ¡°Lance, guess who I saw?¡± Lance, distracted, replied absentmindedly, ¡°Who?¡± ¡°The punks who beat us up in the Bay District! I saw them!¡± The news electrified the group, many of whom were back in the office to avoid the midday heat. Anger simmered as they heard Ethan¡¯s report. Lance¡¯s frustration with Kent burned hotter. The casino boss would have to wait¡ªnow it was time to deal with these street thugs. Grabbing a duffel bag filled with bats from the storage room, Lance prepared to head out. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he ordered. Some would ride in cars; Lance drove himself. Watching the group mobilize, he realized something: they needed more drivers. Chapter 57: Interest from a Month Ago Chapter 57: Interest from a Month Ago ¡°¡­You guys wouldn¡¯t believe what Jennifer and I did last night!¡± A freckled young man with sandy brown hair sat under a sunshade by the roadside, holding a glass of spiked orange juice as he recounted the previous night¡¯s exploits to his two friends. ¡°I have to say, it was the most enjoyable and coolest night of my life. You wouldn¡¯t believe how gentle she is, and¡­¡± ¡°I would,¡± one of his friends interjected. The freckled man froze. At the table were just the three of them¡ªhis two best buddies. And Jennifer was his girlfriend. He looked at his friend¡¯s sincere expression and dismissed any bad thoughts. He figured his friend¡¯s ¡°I would¡± referred to his own experiences with amazing women. But Freckles believed no matter how amazing his friend¡¯s experiences were, they couldn¡¯t compare to his Jennifer. Shaking his head, he defended her. ¡°No, you wouldn¡¯t.¡± His friend, persistent, replied, ¡°No, I¡¯m sure I would!¡± Freckles¡¯s patience wore thin. ¡°What do you know?¡± he demanded. His friend smirked and described in detail some very specific "moves." Freckles stared in shock¡ªthose were exactly the things he had done last night. Even two activities he hadn¡¯t attempted because, well, he hadn¡¯t cleaned himself thoroughly enough. ¡°Where did you hear that?¡± Freckles asked, his disbelief mounting. At this, the other friend burst out laughing. ¡°Of course, from Jennifer!¡± Freckles¡¯s expression darkened, shifting from red to pale to green. He grew visibly enraged. ¡°That¡¯s not funny,¡± he snapped. ¡°Jennifer is my girlfriend. I expect you to respect her¡ªand me!¡± The first friend waved dismissively. ¡°Come on, man. I told you¡ªshe¡¯s just a tramp. I¡¯ve been with her, he¡¯s been with her, and so have plenty of other guys I know.¡± ¡°I warned you about this, but you didn¡¯t believe me.¡± Freckles stood abruptly, his face contorted in a mix of anger and disbelief. Just as he was about to deliver a heated retort, a car pulled up less than five meters away. Elvin stepped out, carrying a duffel bag filled with bats. The three young men, engrossed in their argument about Jennifer¡¯s character, didn¡¯t notice him. Moments later, a group of ten or so youths crossed the street, each taking a bat from Elvin before advancing. It wasn¡¯t until the group was within striking distance that Freckles and his friends realized something was wrong. The leader, tall and broad-shouldered, seemed vaguely familiar. But there was no time to dwell on it¡ªthere were only four or five meters between them, a distance closed in mere seconds. ?????¨¨? By the time Freckles understood they were the target, Ethan¡¯s massive fist was already smashing into his face. ¡°Kiss my a, you little tramp!¡± The fight erupted like wildfire. Freckles¡¯s two friends, realizing the trouble, flipped the table and bolted, but the area was crowded with chairs and tables, hindering their escape. Elvin, channeling newfound strength, hurled an iron chair, knocking one of them flat. The other tripped over a table and, before he could get up, was pinned down. What followed was a relentless beatdown. The attackers used bats, fists, and even their shoes to pummel the three young men. Inside the caf¨¦, Lance casually approached the counter. Pulling out a wad of cash, he counted out four five-dollar bills and placed them on the counter. ¡°Just a little incident. You and your staff didn¡¯t see us, right?¡± sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The caf¨¦ owner, glancing at the sturdy iron chairs and tables that wouldn¡¯t sustain damage, hesitated but eventually pocketed the money. With a polite nod, he replied, ¡°We didn¡¯t see a thing, sir.¡± Satisfied, Lance nodded and walked out. Outside, the three young men were on the ground, battered and bruised. Ethan, using only his fists, delivered punch after resounding punch. Their cries of pain grew faint, replaced by groans. After two or three minutes, the group of attackers finally tired. Lance, his cigarette nearly finished, stepped forward. ¡°Lift their heads.¡± The others stopped, but the beaten trio were too weak to move. Ethan crouched, grabbed Freckles by the hair, and forced his head up to face Lance. Though dazed, Freckles glared at Lance with pure hatred, his face swollen and bloody. ¡°You don¡¯t look happy,¡± Lance observed. Freckles remained silent. Lance continued. ¡°A month ago, at the Bay District, you joined the protestors and attacked my people. Does that ring a bell?¡± Freckles¡¯s glare faltered. Though he didn¡¯t speak, his expression confirmed he remembered. He had even bragged about it in recent weeks. At the time, someone had paid them two hundred dollars to rough up dockworkers during a protest. For unemployed drifters like them, this was a rare opportunity for easy cash. Unfortunately for them, they had crossed paths with Elvin¡¯s group, leaving them bloodied and bruised. Lance flicked his cigarette to the ground and gestured for Elvin¡¯s bat. Holding the heavy bat in both hands, Lance addressed Freckles: ¡°Today¡¯s lesson: No matter what you do, you¡¯ll pay for it someday¡ªif not today, then tomorrow, or the day after. Your turn always comes.¡± With a nod, Ethan pulled Freckles¡¯s arm forward. Lance raised the bat high and brought it down with force. The sickening thud was followed by a howl of pain as Freckles curled into a ball, clutching his broken arm. His two friends, terrified, begged for mercy. ¡°It wasn¡¯t us! Tommy made us do it!¡± ¡°Who¡¯s Tommy?¡± Both turned to Freckles, proving their loyalty went only so far. Lance, unimpressed, replied coldly, ¡°But you still did it.¡± Handing the bat to Elvin, Lance stepped back. Elvin, breathing heavily, hesitated briefly before recalling the beating he and his friends had endured. Fueled by anger, he took a deep breath, raised the bat, and swung it hard. The second man¡¯s arm snapped audibly, leaving him wailing in agony. Ethan handled the third man, his sheer strength breaking the arm into a grotesque "V" shape. Doctors would have plenty to bill for. As a small crowd began to gather, Lance gestured for his group to leave. In seconds, they had disappeared into the alleys. Ten minutes later, a police car arrived. One officer nudged Freckles with the toe of his polished shoe. Seeing the young man open his eyes, he confirmed there were no fatalities. ¡°Call an ambulance,¡± he told his partner. Turning to the caf¨¦ owner, the officer asked, ¡°Did you see who did this?¡± The owner, feeling the weight of the cash in his pocket, shook his head. ¡°Never seen them before.¡± ¡°Out-of-towners?¡± the officer muttered, jotting a note. ¡°Remember their faces?¡± The owner shook his head again. ¡°Not really, but they were young.¡± The officer sighed, putting his notebook away. He knew the caf¨¦ owner was hiding something¡ªcases like this always had layers. When the ambulance arrived, only the man with the severely broken arm was taken. Freckles and the other friend refused, unwilling to risk the massive medical bills. From a nearby alley, Lance¡¯s group watched, their adrenaline replaced by laughter. The fear they¡¯d once felt toward their enemies was gone. As Lance had said: When you¡¯re strong, they¡¯re weak. Chapter 58: New Acquisitions Chapter 58: New AcquisitionsEnnio stirred as someone nudged him awake. He was about to complain when a jolt of realization snapped him out of his grogginess. Rubbing his face, he looked up in the darkness at Morris, who whispered, ¡°There¡¯s a truck coming.¡± The night was quiet, amplifying every sound. A conversation like this, unnoticed during the day, could easily be overheard now. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Peeking out from the alley, Ennio spotted a truck moving slowly toward the corner. Earlier in the day, he had visited a community hospital where a doctor confirmed that his radius was fractured but not severely. With a splint in place, it would take at least four weeks before he could remove it and three months for a full recovery. The doctor emphasized the importance of avoiding heavy lifting. This situation deepened Ennio¡¯s hatred for Kent. Not only had he lost money, but his injury meant he would also lose his job¡ªa fate terrifying for poor people, who often couldn¡¯t afford the twin burdens of medical bills and unemployment. The truck stopped just outside the alley, unable to fit into the narrow space where the casino was located. Morris tugged Ennio further back. ¡°I¡¯ll climb into the truck,¡± he whispered. Ennio frowned. ¡°I should be the one to do it.¡± Morris shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re too tall, and I¡¯m shorter. They won¡¯t notice me as easily. Besides, they know me and my dad. If I get caught, I¡¯ll just say I was trying to steal something. Worst case? I get a beating.¡± Ennio hesitated, then muttered, ¡°It still should be me.¡± But Morris was already focused on the task at hand. By now, Kent¡¯s men were rolling gambling tables out of the alley on small carts. The wooden tables were designed to be disassembled for easy transport, unlike the luxurious marble-topped tables in the Kodak Family¡¯s casinos, which were meant to project opulence at the cost of mobility. As the first load was loaded onto the truck, Morris licked his lips and said, ¡°No time. I¡¯m going in now. Just follow the tire tracks if you lose them.¡± Before Ennio could object, Morris crouched low and darted to the truck. Using the wheel as a step, he hoisted himself into the truck bed. Once inside, he found a narrow blind spot and curled into it, slowing his breathing to remain unnoticed. The loading process took about 20 minutes. After the truck was packed, Kent and his men followed in two cars. Ennio trailed them on foot, but the vehicles soon outpaced him. He resorted to tracking the faint tire marks on the ground. Kent¡¯s crew didn¡¯t go far. Their clientele was primarily other immigrants from the Empire, so they wouldn¡¯t leave the ¡°Imperial District.¡± Although it wasn¡¯t an official designation, the majority of immigrants had congregated in this area, giving it a distinct identity. ????£Á??B¨§???? Last year, the municipal government formally labeled it the ¡°Imperial District¡± on new city maps, legitimizing its colloquial name. Located in the southwest part of the port, the district was dominated by two gangs: the Camille Gang and the Red Dog Gang. The Camille Gang controlled a larger area, but the Red Dogs spanned two districts. Beneath these major players were smaller groups, often just loose coalitions formed for mutual defense against extortion or police harassment. Kent wouldn¡¯t relocate too far for several reasons. Moving further would encroach on territories controlled by other gangs or established illegal casinos, creating risks he couldn¡¯t afford. Setting up in a new area would also require finding a fresh customer base and starting from scratch¡ªhardly appealing. Ennio and Morris had assumed the crew would move far away, but in reality, they had only gone a few streets over. The truck parked near a new building, and Kent¡¯s crew began unloading into a basement¡ªhidden and secure. Morris seized an opportunity to slip out of the truck and rejoin Ennio. Together, they found a vantage point to observe the operation. The unloading continued uninterrupted. By morning, the crew had moved all their equipment into the basement and hadn¡¯t emerged again. The following morning, Lance visited Alberto¡¯s office with Elvin and Mello to purchase two additional vehicles. ¡°We¡¯ve got around thirty people now, maybe more if we include some new recruits. I¡¯m the only one who can drive, and we only have one car. That¡¯s not enough,¡± Lance explained. Alberto, ever accommodating, didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Pick out what you need. Oh, and I¡¯ve got a surprise for you later.¡± The trio headed to the lot. Elvin and Mello drooled over the luxury cars, their eyes lighting up like kids in a candy store. No man, not even those inclined toward men, could resist the allure of a fine automobile. If given the choice between a beautiful woman and one of these gleaming machines, they¡¯d likely choose the car without hesitation. But reality came crashing down when Lance steered them away from the luxury section to the lot of beat-up cars priced in the hundreds. After test-driving a few, they settled on two vehicles for a combined cost of $900. Lance took one for a spin and found it satisfactory, save for the heavy steering. Jamie, their mechanic, promised free repairs for minor issues, provided no expensive parts were needed. As Elvin and Mello practiced driving the new cars, Lance returned to Alberto¡¯s office. ¡°Come in!¡± Alberto greeted enthusiastically, a stark contrast to his stressed demeanor from before. He handed Lance a cigar. ¡°A handmade cigar from Sumuri, rolled on the thighs of young women¡ªor so they say!¡± He showed Lance how to light and smoke it. Lance already knew but played along, taking a puff. The cigar wasn¡¯t particularly remarkable. ¡°How much for the cars?¡± Alberto asked. ¡°Nine hundred,¡± Lance replied. Alberto shook his head with a grin. ¡°They¡¯re on the house.¡± Lance raised an eyebrow, uncertain. ¡°So, does that mean I can pick out a luxury car now?¡± Alberto roared with laughter. ¡°Too late! If you¡¯d chosen earlier, I might have let you. But you missed your chance.¡± He leaned in conspiratorially. ¡°Remember when you suggested I stockpile alcohol?¡± ¡°I do.¡± ¡°Well, I did. And now, with the rising prices, I¡¯ve made a fortune!¡± Alberto¡¯s eyes gleamed with excitement. ¡°You were right, Lance. I owe this windfall to you. I thought you¡¯d pick a luxury car as your reward, but now¡­ well, tough luck!¡± Sobering slightly, Alberto added, ¡°I heard from Fordis that you¡¯re in some trouble. Need my help?¡± Lance shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve got it under control.¡± He avoided accumulating favors, knowing they often came with strings attached. Rejecting Alberto¡¯s offer now prevented future complications. However, Lance did ask for one thing. ¡°If you really want to thank me, how about a few more guns? I might need them soon.¡± For Alberto, supplying untraceable firearms was a minor inconvenience. He had no allegiance to the Federation¡¯s law enforcement and plenty of connections to source weapons discreetly. After chatting briefly about the alcohol market¡¯s prospects, Lance took his leave. By the time he returned, Elvin and Mello were confidently driving the newly purchased cars. Alongside them, Lance also brought back five pistols¡ªenough to prepare for whatever was coming next. Chapter 59: Don’t Be the One Left in the Sewers Chapter 59: Don¡¯t Be the One Left in the SewersAfter returning to the company, Lance took everyone to the western cliffs near the port to test the handguns. The area was desolate, quiet, and ideal for practice. The crashing waves against the rocks masked the sound of gunfire, ensuring they wouldn¡¯t attract attention. Lance set up makeshift targets and encouraged everyone to take turns shooting. This was the Federation, where freedoms extended to a shocking degree. The idea of avoiding firearms in gang disputes was laughable. In fact, Lance had heard of gang conflicts in other cities escalating to the use of armored vehicles. A few rounds from handguns were practically tame by comparison. Much like luxury cars, firearms held a special appeal to men¡ªand even the two women in the group eagerly tried their hand at shooting. The weapons were small-caliber McGray revolvers, standard-issue police sidearms. Reliable but not thrilling. Lance suspected they had been sourced from the police themselves. The Federation had little fondness for small-caliber arms, favoring hunting rifles and assault weapons, but such details didn¡¯t concern him. The guns were in excellent condition, as if barely used. The bearded supplier had assured Lance that the barrels were re-machined, eliminating any forensic link to past crimes. This precaution was essential. Stories of criminals unknowingly buying weapons tied to prior murders were common. Lance had once heard of a hapless man who bought a gun from the black market and used it in a robbery. Though he fired only warning shots and stole a mere few dollars, the gun¡¯s link to a multi-victim murder in another state sealed his fate¡ªhe was sentenced to the electric chair. To avoid such traps, Lance trusted only reputable suppliers. As the group excitedly tested the firearms, Elvin pulled Lance aside. ¡°Do we really need these weapons?¡± he asked hesitantly. Lance handed Elvin a cigarette, lighting one for himself before replying. ¡°How much have we earned this week?¡± Elvin answered softly, ¡°Four thousand four hundred and sixty-one dollars.¡± He knew the number by heart¡ªit represented not just their collective income but also his share of nearly 900 dollars. With three days left in the week, they were on track to earn enough that each person would pocket 40 to 50 dollars. That kind of money had once been unimaginable. Lance nodded approvingly. ¡°I¡¯m impressed you remember the exact figure, Elvin. You¡¯ve got a knack for numbers.¡± But then his tone shifted, serious and sharp. ¡°Do you realize how many people out there would do something crazy for $4,461?¡± ¡°Some will pull a gun for a few bucks. If word gets out that a group of illegal immigrants is raking in thousands every month, what do you think will happen?¡± Elvin¡¯s pupils dilated slightly as he absorbed Lance¡¯s words. For a moment, he felt a familiar but foolish instinct: I just want to live my life and avoid trouble. But this was the Federation¡ªa land where fortunes and failures intertwined daily. Without the means to protect your money, wealth became a death sentence. ????????¨¨???? ¡°Have you heard of Mr. Jobav?¡± Lance asked. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Elvin nodded, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. ¡°He¡¯s famous. An Empire immigrant, isn¡¯t he? Rumored to own a bank.¡± ¡°I spoke to him last week. He¡¯s been extorted for tens of thousands of dollars over time. And do you know what he did? He tried to recover a fraction of it¡ªthrough someone else. He didn¡¯t dare confront the issue himself.¡± Lance fixed Elvin with a hard stare. ¡°If even someone like Jobav can be robbed and bullied, what about us?¡± ¡°What would you do if someone showed up right now, demanded all your money, and told you to get out of the Federation?¡± Without waiting for an answer, Lance declared, ¡°I¡¯d give them a bullet to send them straight to hell!¡± He laughed, clapping Elvin on the shoulder. ¡°Be a wolf. It¡¯s better to inspire fear than to live as a dog that gets kicked around.¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather see each of you in prison for life for fighting back than hear about your bodies being dumped in the sewers!¡± Back at the office, the group returned energized. The experience of earning good money and firing guns had given them newfound confidence. ¡°Lance, Ennio called earlier,¡± someone informed him. Lance nodded, taking the message to his office. He dialed the number. ¡°It¡¯s Lance,¡± he said when Ennio picked up. ¡°They¡¯ve moved into a new place. They haven¡¯t come out since. The location is¡­¡± Lance jotted down the address. ¡°Are you safe?¡± Ennio hesitated briefly, touched by the concern in Lance¡¯s voice. ¡°Yes, they didn¡¯t spot us. What¡¯s the plan now?¡± ¡°Stay put. I¡¯m on my way.¡± Back in the main room, Lance gathered his crew. ¡°I¡¯ve got something dangerous for us,¡± he began. ¡°There¡¯s a guy named Kent. He ripped me off for $1,500. I¡¯m going to settle things with him, but there¡¯s a chance it¡¯ll involve guns¡ªand injuries. Who¡¯s coming with me?¡± Lance didn¡¯t pressure anyone. He understood not everyone was cut out for violence. A scared, unwilling participant could become a liability in a fight. It was better to leave them behind than to risk their hesitation jeopardizing the group. Elvin and Ethan immediately raised their hands. Mello hesitated, volunteering to stay behind and manage the office unless Lance specifically needed him. Lance respected Mello¡¯s decision. Among them, Mello was the most mature and level-headed. If things went sideways, someone needed to stabilize the rest. Ultimately, most of the group chose to join. ¡°Lock the doors and wait for me to come back,¡± Lance instructed. ¡°If we don¡¯t return, go to Mr. Coty for help.¡± The group piled into three cars and drove toward the Imperial District. Meanwhile, Kent had just woken up. He¡¯d gone to bed late the night before, exhausted from the move. Despite being the boss, he still had to help with heavy lifting and cleaning. The stifling heat made sleeping difficult. Finally, drenched in sweat, Kent sat up and cursed. ¡°Damn this weather! I heard there¡¯s something called air conditioning that cools rooms. Anyone know how much it costs?¡± Shuffling into a small room, he turned on the water and took a cold shower. His hairy body, resembling a gorilla¡¯s, glistened under the running water. Back in the main room, Kent barked, ¡°Turn on the fans! What¡¯s for lunch? Anyone know a good restaurant nearby?¡± He had no idea that Lance and his crew were already on their way. Chapter 60: What’s for Lunch? Chapter 60: What¡¯s for Lunch?Kent¡¯s trusted enforcer grumbled under his breath, silently cursing his boss and his entire family as he stood at a deli counter ordering lunch. This meal was coming out of his own pocket. It wasn¡¯t the first time Kent had sent him on errands without providing money. While the enforcer resented the unfairness, he tolerated it because his paycheck, though meager, was reliable. Sometimes, tolerating injustice is a mistake. Give an inch, and they¡¯ll take a mile. The Imperial District didn¡¯t have many fast-food options, just bakeries and delis. True fast-food restaurants were clustered around gas stations farther away. Empire immigrants hadn¡¯t yet developed a taste for Federation-style fast food. The younger generation, born or raised here, was starting to embrace it, but the older immigrants clung to their traditions. The enforcer ordered a modest lunch: several chunks of fried pork knuckle, a pile of the cheapest bread, a large bag of fruit salad worth a dollar, and a pack of cold beers. He popped a piece of pork into his mouth as he carried the food back. The fried skin crunched satisfyingly, releasing a burst of fatty juices and meat flavor. The best part of this trip, he thought, savoring the morsel. He intentionally picked out the juiciest pieces for himself, planning to let the others eat whatever was left. As he passed a side alley near the casino, he noticed three parked cars. Strange, he thought. Cars were uncommon in this area, especially parked like this. Most Empire immigrants prioritized owning homes over vehicles, and it was rare to see cars idling in these streets. Curiosity piqued, the enforcer stopped at the alley¡¯s entrance, lit a cigarette, and peered inside. His heart sank when his eyes met Lance¡¯s. Lance stared back for several seconds before barking, ¡°Grab him!¡± and sprinting forward. The enforcer¡¯s instincts took over. He dropped the food and bolted, running faster than he ever thought possible. Maybe I missed my calling as a sprinter, he thought, fleetingly imagining himself winning medals. But his stamina quickly faltered. Less than 50 meters into the chase, his legs burned, and the weight of the food he was carrying slowed him down. Desperately, he flung the bag behind him, hoping to trip his pursuers. ?£Á?????????¨¨? The group chasing him, all in their twenties and brimming with youthful energy, closed the gap rapidly. Lance reached him first, shoving him hard in the back. The enforcer stumbled, lost his balance, and hit the ground hard. Scrambling to get back up, he managed to roll over before Elvin crashed into him, tackling him to the ground again. Within moments, the enforcer was surrounded. The enforcer¡¯s face twisted in anger as he glared at Lance. He mustered a defiant tone. ¡°You¡¯re starting a war, Lance!¡± Lance, slightly winded, looked down at him and smirked. ¡°War, huh?¡± Without warning, Lance stomped his boot onto the enforcer¡¯s head, pressing his cheek into the dirt. ¡°Running, were you?¡± ¡°Hm?¡± He ground his heel against the enforcer¡¯s face before stepping back. Kneeling beside him, Lance patted his bruised face. ¡°I like your attitude. Here¡¯s the deal: open the door for us, and I¡¯ll let you walk away.¡± The enforcer said nothing, his glare laced with defiance. His silence spoke volumes: Your threats don¡¯t scare me. Ethan moved in to strike, but Lance stopped him with a hand. ¡°No need,¡± he said. Lance understood the enforcer¡¯s bravado. His experience told him these types didn¡¯t break easily¡ªthey relied on the belief that their assailants wouldn¡¯t dare go too far. He likely thought, The more I endure, the harsher my revenge later. But Lance wasn¡¯t interested in a prolonged game of intimidation. He pulled out his folding knife and, without hesitation, stabbed the enforcer in the buttocks. The man¡¯s bravado evaporated instantly. He gasped, trying to scream, but Lance¡¯s fist cracked into his jaw, cutting him off mid-shout. ¡°Next one might hit an artery. What do you think?¡± Lance¡¯s voice was calm, almost casual, as he continued. ¡°This is between me and Kent. If you want to get involved, I¡¯ll make sure Angel Lake mourns you.¡± The enforcer¡¯s earlier courage drained away. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered weakly. Lance stood, revealing the handgun tucked under his jacket. ¡°Good. And don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯ll make sure everyone knows you had no choice. You¡¯re innocent.¡± The enforcer hesitated, then sighed in resignation. ¡°Kent¡¯s brother¡­ he¡¯s a high-ranking member of the Camille Gang. You sure about this?¡± Lance didn¡¯t even flinch. ¡°That¡¯s tomorrow¡¯s problem. Today, I¡¯m dealing with Kent. Move.¡± With no other option, the enforcer limped toward the casino. Fear and pain stripped him of resistance. They approached the casino entrance. Onlookers who noticed the group quickly turned away after receiving a wordless warning: a two-finger gesture from the young men, signaling they¡¯d been ¡°marked.¡± Anyone foolish enough to linger might later find themselves targeted as ¡°witnesses.¡± When they reached the door, the enforcer pounded on it. ¡°Open up, damn it! Hurry!¡± A voice from inside called back, ¡°What¡¯s for lunch? Fried chicken or pork knuckles?¡± The door swung open, and the guard inside froze at the sight of the enforcer¡¯s battered face and bloodied side. Before he could react, Lance pressed a gun to his head. The guard raised his hands slowly. ¡°Let¡¯s stay calm, friend. No need to escalate.¡± His angry glare at the enforcer betrayed his frustration: Thanks for dragging me into this. Behind Lance, the rest of the group filed in, their presence unmistakably hostile. The guard quickly declared, ¡°This isn¡¯t my fight. I didn¡¯t touch anyone yesterday!¡± Lance tilted his head toward the stairs. ¡°Downstairs. Now.¡± The guards exchanged panicked glances, silently cursing their boss for choosing a basement casino. Once a place of safety, the underground venue now felt like a death trap. Reluctantly, they descended, the black barrel of Lance¡¯s gun guiding their every step. Kent was oblivious to the danger closing in. He sat in the basement, scratching his feet and laughing at crude jokes with his men. The sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs brought a smile to his face. ¡°Damn it, took you long enough! I¡¯m starving!¡± he called out, turning toward the noise. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you got for me¡ª¡± His words caught in his throat as he locked eyes with Lance, who was framed by a dozen young men, each holding a weapon or burning with a fierce determination. Chapter 61: Eat More If Youre Hungry Chapter 61: Eat More If You''re HungryKent was starving. After working late into the night yesterday, he hadn¡¯t eaten since morning and felt like he could devour an entire cow! He eagerly wiped his hands, which he¡¯d just used to scratch his toes, on his pants and rubbed them together in anticipation of the meal. Saliva flooded his mouth, making his hunger even more unbearable. He swallowed it down and snapped impatiently, "What are you two idiots standing there for?" Seeing the two men who had already gone out lingering near the door, Kent couldn¡¯t help but grow irritated. ¡°Hurry up and bring the stuff over! Don¡¯t tell me you went out and didn¡¯t bring back any food, for f¡¯s sake!¡± As the owner of an underground casino and the younger brother of a senior gang member, Kent wasn¡¯t one to tolerate dissatisfaction¡ªunless it was from his brother. Since the day he used a bat to kill the neighbor who had bullied them, anyone who displeased him faced his wrath. But when a third person stepped out from behind the door, Kent froze. He didn¡¯t even bother to lift himself off the chair. Instead, he turned and bolted toward the back room. His chair¡¯s armrest snagged his pants, disrupting his movement and sending him sprawling to the floor. He ended up on one knee, the other leg kicking against the ground in a half-risen pose. At that moment, he mentally cursed his henchmen and doormen¡¯s families three times over. He vowed to teach them a lesson once this ordeal was over. Before Kent could even reach the back room, a gunshot rang out. Though the McGray revolver was a small-caliber firearm, its sound was amplified in the confined space, startling everyone. Kent, who had just managed to get to his feet, collapsed back to the floor. Supporting himself with one hand for balance, he slowly raised both hands. ¡°No need for this, Lance! It¡¯s just fifteen hundred bucks!¡± Just yesterday, he had called Lance and his friends fools, but now it seemed the real fool was him. Facing away from Lance, Kent didn¡¯t know who had been shot but didn¡¯t dare gamble that the next bullet wouldn¡¯t be for him. Lance walked over to Kent¡¯s chair, sat down opposite him, and placed the food on the table. By now, Elvin and the others had entered, all holding guns. Elvin herded the guards into a corner and had one of Ennio¡¯s friends watch the door. The room was now fully under Lance¡¯s control. ¡°We heard you shouting about being hungry before we even came in. Well, here you go¡ªdig in,¡± Lance said with a smile, his demeanor oddly casual, as if this weren¡¯t a confrontation. Kent was tense. Slowly, he turned to face Lance. ¡°You win, Lance. The fifteen hundred is in the room. I¡¯ll give it back to you now.¡± Lance gestured for him to sit down. ¡°I heard you¡¯ve been busy all night and haven¡¯t eaten. You must be starving. Come, let¡¯s eat first. I haven¡¯t eaten yet either.¡± Lance holstered his gun, tore open the bag of food, and released the savory aroma of pork knuckles into the air. The deli they¡¯d come from clearly knew their craft. These knuckles were first simmered with spices until tender, then drained and fried to achieve a crispy exterior. Each piece had a golden-brown crust and layers of juicy fat. The scent alone made everyone hungrier. ¡°Fantastic! I love pork knuckles!¡± Lance exclaimed as he popped a piece into his mouth. The taste and texture were excellent, though a bit salty. He looked at Kent, who hadn¡¯t moved, and made an inviting gesture. ¡°You should try some. It¡¯s really good. I must say, your friend made an excellent choice picking this.¡± Kent remained still, watching Lance intently. ¡°You don¡¯t need to do this, Lance. I¡¯ll give you the money, and I¡¯ll¡­¡± Lance abruptly stood and punched him square in the face. The blow snapped Kent¡¯s head to the side, leaving him dazed. Flexing his wrist after the punch, Lance sat back down. ¡°If you so much as say another word, I¡¯ll rip your tongue out! Eat!¡± Kent stayed silent for a moment, the swelling on his cheek visibly growing. After some deliberation, his expression softened, even raising an eyebrow as if conceding. ¡°Fine. You¡¯re the boss now.¡± ?????¦­???? It sounded like he had surrendered, but both men knew there was an underlying meaning: You¡¯re in charge for now, but next time, it¡¯ll be different. Kent had extensive gang resources behind him and didn¡¯t believe Lance and his friends could withstand the Camille Gang¡¯s retribution. The losses he suffered today would be repaid in full. For now, feigning submission was the smartest move. Lowering his head slightly but keeping his eyes locked on Lance, Kent grabbed two large pieces of knuckle and stuffed them into his mouth, chewing like a ravenous wolf. Yet his gaze was venomous, giving Lance the distinct feeling of being watched by a snake. Lance smiled, but it was a chilling grin that sent shivers down the spines of Kent¡¯s guards. ¡°See, my friend? It¡¯s not so hard. We¡¯re friends, aren¡¯t we?¡± Lance took a small bite of his meat while Kent nodded without speaking. ¡°And you know what I do for a living, right?¡± Kent hesitated but began eating again when Lance gestured for him to continue. ¡°You¡¯re with a finance company,¡± he mumbled. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lance pointed at him. ¡°Exactly. We¡¯re good friends, so I knew you¡¯d know.¡± ¡°Now, about the fifteen thousand you took from me yesterday. When can I expect it back?¡± ¡°Friends or not, debts must be settled.¡± Kent stopped eating, but Lance motioned for him to continue. Begrudgingly, Kent kept stuffing his mouth. ¡°I don¡¯t have that much on hand.¡± The blatant extortion left Kent fuming internally, but he had no choice. Yesterday, he had extorted Lance, underestimating how much Lance would demand in return. As he ate more knuckle, the initial deliciousness gave way to nausea. The crispy fat, initially delightful, now felt greasy and cloying. Kent tugged at his collar, forced another bite, and muttered, ¡°Give me a few days. I¡¯ll get it.¡± Lance didn¡¯t reply, turning instead to Ethan. ¡°Our friend has a poor appetite. Help him eat faster.¡± At Elvin¡¯s whispered suggestion, Ethan approached with a sinister grin. Grabbing handfuls of meat, he forced them into Kent¡¯s mouth. Kent flailed, unable to breathe, his struggles futile against Ethan¡¯s towering, muscular frame. Only after Lance signaled for a pause was Kent allowed to cough up the meat. Gasping for air, he realized that if he didn¡¯t produce the money, he wouldn¡¯t leave this room alive. ¡°In the safe,¡± he croaked. At Lance¡¯s nod, Elvin took a couple of men to retrieve the safe. Slumped by the safe, Kent glared at Lance as if to etch his face into memory. After a tense moment, he turned and unlocked it. Inside were bundles of cash, some gold jewelry¡ªlikely pawned by desperate gamblers¡ªand even a handgun. Lance picked up the semi-automatic pistol, inspected it, and remarked, ¡°You know, you could¡¯ve resisted earlier.¡± Kent said nothing. He knew he¡¯d only have taken one person down before being gunned down himself. Lance gestured for Elvin to gather the money. Turning back to Kent, he said, ¡°Your memory¡¯s good. Do you recall what I said yesterday?¡± Kent shook his head. ¡°Not sure what you mean.¡± ¡°A few thousand bucks is enough to make people like us, desperate immigrants, risk our lives.¡± ¡°Now there¡¯s tens of thousands here. That terrifies me.¡± Chapter 62: A Light in Life Chapter 62: A Light in LifeA tingling sensation crept up from the soles of Kent''s feet, raced through his spine, and surged all the way to his scalp. Wherever it passed, his skin erupted in goosebumps. The instinct to survive¡ªthe most primal, raw, and overpowering human urge¡ªkicked in. Swallowing hard, he was about to speak when Lance pointed at the pile of untouched meat. ¡°Don¡¯t waste it. Eat.¡± There were eight people in the room, including Kent and his men. The croupiers weren¡¯t present¡ªthey only came around when the casino was open. These croupiers were skilled professionals who could find work anywhere. They had their own network and earned handsomely. They wouldn¡¯t dirty their hands with the likes of Kent¡¯s business, which explained their absence. Eight adults and six pork knuckles, each about two pounds, deboned. Initially, there hadn¡¯t been this much food, but Kent¡¯s men weren¡¯t wealthy; their craving for meat wasn¡¯t much different from the impoverished people on the streets. If they bought too little, arguments would break out as they scrambled to grab what they could. To avoid the fuss, they always bought enough knuckles, along with four pounds of bread and some salad to cut through the grease. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Now, Kent was being forced to finish what typically required eight men to devour. It was impossible. ¡°I can¡¯t eat anymore,¡± Kent pleaded again, his voice strained. Lance waved the McGray semi-automatic pistol in his hand. ¡°Bullets or meat?¡± Faced with such a choice, most people would pick meat. Kent was no exception. Lowering his head, he grabbed the meat chunks and squeezed the leaner parts, trying to shred them for easier swallowing. The mixture of fat and meat against his fingers turned his stomach. The once appetizing aroma of the pork now triggered his gag reflex, but he had no choice. Between bites, he said, ¡°Lance, I give up. I won¡¯t retaliate. Let¡¯s end this here.¡± ¡°From now on, you can run your business, and I¡¯ll run my casino. Nobody will know what happened, and no one will bother you¡­¡± He looked up at Lance as he spoke, stuffing more meat into his mouth as if to prove his sincerity. Lance remained silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, leaving Kent even more uncertain. ¡°This was a small matter to begin with. I apologize for everything I did yesterday,¡± Kent continued, glancing at Ennio standing behind Lance. ¡°This young man¡ªhis name is Ennio, right? I¡¯ll give him another three thousand and introduce you to a doctor, free of charge. That should be enough to fix his arm, with some left over.¡± ¡°This whole thing was my fault, all of it¡­¡± Slowly straightening up, Kent tested the waters, gauging Lance¡¯s reaction. But Lance casually angled the pistol toward his head and gestured for him to keep eating. Their gazes locked briefly. Finding nothing in Lance¡¯s eyes, Kent hesitated for a few seconds, then lowered his head and resumed eating. The atmosphere in the basement grew suffocating, every eye focused on Kent. As he ate, his body began rejecting the food. His stomach churned, and he retched, but he still had another half of the pile to finish. Minutes passed. Kent¡¯s pace slowed further. Someone who had always enjoyed a full belly now felt an overwhelming agony from overeating. His stomach was stretched to the breaking point, each breath sending waves of pain through his bloated abdomen. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t do it anymore!¡± he gasped, releasing the meat and bracing himself against the table. ¡°Call an ambulance! My stomach¡¯s about to explode!¡± Lance glanced at Ethan. ¡°Kent doesn¡¯t want to cooperate. Ethan, help him out.¡± Ethan hesitated for a moment, gathering himself. Then, with an impassive expression, he approached Kent. Panic filled Kent¡¯s eyes as he tried to escape, but the moment he stood, Ethan¡¯s hand forced him back into the chair. Ignoring Kent¡¯s struggles and pleas, Ethan grabbed chunks of meat and shoved them into his mouth. ??????????§£????? Seated across from them, Lance lit a cigarette with a match provided by Elvin. Crossing his legs, he watched Ethan relentlessly feed Kent, pushing meat down his throat. Kent¡¯s flailing became less vigorous. First, he slapped Ethan¡¯s arms and shoulders, then his movements grew feeble until he slumped backward. Seven or eight minutes later, after one final, weak slap on Ethan¡¯s arm, Kent went limp. Ethan checked his breathing and softly said, ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡± Lance clicked his tongue. The oppressive atmosphere in the room intensified as he stood and turned to Ennio. ¡°I¡¯ve dealt with your biggest problem. Now, about your arm¡ªwill you handle it, or should I?¡± One of Kent¡¯s men froze, his face drenched in sweat. He dropped to his knees and begged for mercy. A dead body changed everything. As long as Kent had been alive, there was room for negotiation. But with him dead, there was no escaping the consequences. Elvin approached Ennio, handing him a revolver. ¡°Stick to your choice. No one will blame you¡ªnot even Lance. Just remember, we¡¯re family. We¡¯ll support you and avenge you if needed. That¡¯s all that matters.¡± Elvin¡¯s words encouraged Ennio to make his own decision. Ennio thought about his past: his missing mother, his abusive father who failed to achieve the Federation Dream, and his own childhood filled with poverty and misfortune. He also thought about the money that could change everything. Staring at the revolver in his hand, he asked, ¡°How does it work?¡± ¡°The safety¡¯s off. Just aim and pull the trigger,¡± Elvin instructed. Taking a few steps forward, Ennio aimed at the henchman, who sobbed uncontrollably, begging for his life. Ennio hesitated only briefly before pulling the trigger. The bullet struck the man¡¯s shoulder, sending him to the ground. Pretending to be dead, the man didn¡¯t realize Ennio had made up his mind. Ennio emptied the revolver into him. The final bullet struck his head, ending his resistance. When the hammer clicked on an empty chamber multiple times, Ennio finally lowered the gun, dazed. Some of the remaining henchmen began to realize what was coming, but before they could react, Lance signaled his crew. A volley of gunfire echoed, and the room fell silent. Looking at Kent¡¯s lifeless eyes, Lance sighed in frustration. ¡°Damn it, I said to leave him alive. But here we are. Does this make me a liar?¡± Elvin smiled. ¡°It was my call, not yours, Lance.¡± Lance patted him on the shoulder before cleaning up and leaving with the group. Emerging from the basement, they were greeted by the blazing sunlight, even reaching parts of the alley. Yet, some corners would forever remain in shadow. If one day your life is shrouded in darkness, with no light reaching you, then light your own lamp. Whether it¡¯s the flame of a gun or something else¡ªdon¡¯t let the darkness consume you. Everyone¡¯s mindset shifted profoundly at that moment. Each of them felt a newfound hunger for strength, for everything. Driving the group back to the company, Lance tallied the money taken from Kent¡¯s safe: over 33,000 dollars. He placed 30,000 in his company¡¯s safe, grateful for Kent¡¯s unintentional contribution to his budding enterprise. The rest he distributed among his crew. Everyone received a share of over 100 dollars. ¡°Go home, take a bath, buy some new clothes and shoes, and treat yourself to a good meal. Then get back to work!¡± Lance turned to Ennio and his friends. ¡°If you¡¯re interested, the company would be happy to have you.¡± Chapter 63: Court Session Chapter 63: Court Session On Wednesday morning, the overweight businessman Johnny arrived at Jingang City¡¯s Urban Court, seated in a wheelchair pushed by his daughter. His case was scheduled to be heard today. Jingang City was a bustling metropolis, with numerous cases requiring hearings daily. Minor disputes were handled in expedited court sessions, but criminal cases like assault required formal proceedings to ensure both plaintiff and defendant had the opportunity to defend themselves and assert their legal rights¡ªsomething enshrined in the charter. ¡°I¡¯m a little worried, Dad,¡± Johnny¡¯s chubby daughter said, seated beside him. Her body odor was so intense that even Johnny struggled to endure it. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder if her boyfriend had chronic sinusitis or if she had some inexplicable charm that kept him around. These thoughts flitted through his mind briefly before he maintained a confident expression. ¡°I consulted with our lawyer already. This is a small case; there won¡¯t be any surprises,¡± he reassured her. They had discussed this twice before, but his daughter¡¯s unease persisted. ¡°But they hired a lawyer.¡± Johnny¡¯s patience thinned, and his voice unconsciously grew louder¡ªa common trait among those from humbler backgrounds when their authority was questioned. ¡°I told you, I consulted the lawyer! I¡¯m the undisputed victim here. A judge won¡¯t ignore my injuries just because they hired a lawyer and claim I attacked them alone!¡± ¡°This case will boil down to one thing: how much they¡¯ll compensate me and whether I¡¯ll forgive them. That¡¯s it!¡± As he spoke, a man in formal attire approached. Given the sweltering mid-September heat, wearing a full suit was a testament to his dedication¡ªor insanity. Johnny guessed this man was a lawyer, as only lawyers would dress so impeccably. ¡°Mr. Johnny?¡± The lawyer¡¯s tone was haughty as he extended a hand, expecting Johnny to shake it. That condescending gaze made Johnny feel humiliated, even though the lawyer had done nothing more than address him. After a brief pause, Johnny nodded but motioned to his immobile hands. ¡°That¡¯s me, so¡­¡± The lawyer retracted his hand and glanced back. Only then did Johnny notice a group of young people laughing and chatting at the other end of the hallway. He recognized them instantly. The memory of their brutal attack replayed in his mind, his blood pressure rising. ¡°You want me to forgive them?¡± The lawyer shook his head. ¡°I mean to suggest a settlement out of court. I understand this may sound unreasonable, but¡ª¡± Before he could finish, Johnny roared, ¡°I¡¯m the victim! I decide how this case ends, not you!¡± ¡°Now take your damned arrogance and get away from us!¡± Turning to his daughter, Johnny added, ¡°Push me somewhere else. Just seeing someone like him¡ªwilling to do anything for money¡ªmakes me sick!¡± His daughter shot an apologetic glance at the lawyer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡­¡± The lawyer shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°It¡¯s your choice.¡± He turned and walked toward the young defendants. As Johnny¡¯s daughter pushed him aside, she admonished, ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have said that. Lawyers can make life difficult for us if they want.¡± Johnny dismissed her concern. ¡°Let him try! These bloodsuckers only act if there¡¯s something to gain. Settling out of court? Don¡¯t even think about it!¡± The mere thought of that night¡ªtheir ruthless violence ignoring his pleas for mercy¡ªfueled his anger. Money was no longer the issue; he wanted revenge. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His daughter¡¯s unease deepened. ¡°At least hear him out. Maybe¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t even dream of it! I wouldn¡¯t listen to him even if I were on my deathbed or falling off a cliff!¡± Once Johnny¡¯s temper flared, no one could calm him¡ªnot even the woman who had left him. His daughter sighed. ¡°I think we¡¯re going to mess this up.¡± Johnny scoffed, saying nothing, already rehearsing how he would passionately describe the lawyers¡¯ and those kids¡¯ despicable actions to the judge, just like in the courtroom dramas he¡¯d seen. ?§¡?§°?§¦? The lawyer returned to the young defendants, wearing an expression of regret. ¡°The other party has refused an out-of-court settlement. My goal now is to minimize the damages you¡¯ll pay and reduce any potential prison time.¡± Some of the defendants¡¯ parents wanted to speak with Johnny, but the lawyer discouraged them, though he didn¡¯t outright stop them. As expected, Johnny immediately told them to ¡°get lost.¡± This infuriated the parents, who felt that while their children were at fault, it wasn¡¯t their problem. They had come with good intentions. Twenty minutes later, the session began. Johnny was wheeled to the plaintiff¡¯s seat, and the judge entered hurriedly, looking fatigued. After the formalities, the judge glanced at Johnny. ¡°Did your lawyer arrive late, or did you not hire one?¡± Johnny shook his head. ¡°Your Honor, I consulted a lawyer. He advised me that this was a straightforward case, and I didn¡¯t need representation to defend myself.¡± The judge suppressed a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± Then, turning to the defendants and their lawyer, he said, ¡°The plaintiff has no representation. You may proceed.¡± The lawyer stood, bowing respectfully. ¡°Thank you for your time, Your Honor. I am Anthony from Golden Diamond Law Firm, representing the defendants in this case.¡± ¡°First, let me introduce my clients¡­¡± The lawyer presented documents showing that four of the defendants had been diagnosed with conduct disorders and a predisposition toward violence. He explained that the incident wasn¡¯t a case of premeditated or random crime but an impulsive act. At the behest of a friend, the group sought revenge against an exploitative boss. However, due to their youth, immaturity, and violent tendencies, things spiraled out of control. He submitted various certificates, including proof of their community service participation, completion of high school with at least a C+ average, and statements from neighbors attesting to their otherwise respectful and helpful behavior. His argument aimed to frame the incident as a regrettable mistake rather than a deliberate crime. As expected, much of the blame shifted to the apprentice, who had convinced his friends to act. The apprentice¡¯s mother had begged the lawyer for help, using every means at her disposal. Touched¡ªor persuaded¡ªthe lawyer took on the case, though he warned her that her son was likely to face a sentence of three to five years. He explained that a reduced sentence or acquittal was possible if she could provide $50,000, but she couldn¡¯t afford such an amount. After reviewing the documents, the judge noted that the defendants were not exemplary youths but fit the description of average, acceptable Federation citizens. Turning to Johnny, who sat cluelessly in his seat, the judge asked the lawyer, ¡°You mentioned that one of these youths was oppressed and humiliated?¡± The lawyer looked to the apprentice, who stood and replied, ¡°Yes, Your Honor.¡± The judge pursed his lips. ¡°Can you explain how he humiliated you? And this document also mentions your mother¡­¡± Chapter 64: A Moment of Relief Chapter 64: A Moment of Relief The lead attorney watched the apprentice take the stand. They had rehearsed what to say and how to frame the narrative to gain leniency. The apprentice spoke honestly, describing how Johnny had exploited his labor, extorted his money, and humiliated both him and his mother. The details might have been tragic, but for a judge who had seen far worse cases, they were unlikely to stir much sympathy. Early in his career, the judge might have been more empathetic, but years of exposure to human failings had dulled his anger and compassion for such stories. ¡°That does sound unpleasant,¡± the judge remarked, turning to Johnny. ¡°Without a defense attorney, you¡¯ll need to speak for yourself. Remember, you are accountable for every word you say. Your statements will shape the outcome of this case.¡± ¡°Now tell me, is what he said true?¡± Johnny fumbled, unsure how to respond, before stammering, ¡°But he wanted to learn my recipe. Working for me for free and paying me monthly was the price for that.¡± He seemed to find his footing and added, ¡°Everyone knows my bread is the best, so I don¡¯t think that¡¯s unreasonable.¡± The judge raised a brow. ¡°And his mother?¡± ¡°That was voluntary!¡± Anthony, the defense lawyer, raised his hand to request permission to question Johnny. The judge nodded. ¡°Proceed.¡± ¡°Mr. Johnny, you claim the payments were for teaching him your recipe. Did you actually teach him anything?¡± Johnny hesitated, knowing he hadn¡¯t taught the apprentice anything, but finally said, ¡°I showed him how to knead dough.¡± Anthony smirked. ¡°Everyone knows how to knead dough. That¡¯s not what makes your bread special. So, in effect, you taught him nothing despite him paying the price you demanded.¡± Johnny fell silent. Lying was not an option in front of the apprentice. ¡°Mr. Johnny, did you deliberately use malicious words to provoke and humiliate my client?¡± ¡°Did you intentionally leave your bedroom door ajar and ensure the woman inside was¡­ audibly distressed?¡± ¡°Were your actions designed to humiliate him further and more intensely?¡± Anthony continued, ¡°Before answering, consider carefully. Don¡¯t lie to the court or the judge. If necessary, we can summon his mother as a witness. We¡¯ve refrained out of respect and consideration, but should you lie or attempt to deceive, we won¡¯t hesitate to call her to testify.¡± Johnny¡¯s heart pounded, and sweat dripped down his face. He had indeed acted that way, seeking some twisted thrill from tormenting the apprentice. But he couldn¡¯t admit it. His prolonged silence spoke volumes to both the judge and Anthony. ¡°Your Honor, I have no further questions,¡± Anthony said. The judge scribbled something on a piece of paper, visible to no one else, before looking up. ¡°This case is both simple and complicated. Initially, it seemed like a straightforward robbery with assault, but it has revealed unexpected nuances.¡± ?????£Î?????¨º? ¡°Do either party have additional questions or evidence to present?¡± ¡°None, Your Honor,¡± Anthony replied. Johnny, now visibly confused, shook his head. ¡°I have nothing to add, Your Honor.¡± Johnny had entered the courtroom confident he was the clear victim. Yet, Anthony¡¯s argument had turned the narrative on its head, leaving Johnny feeling like the villain. The judge exhaled slowly. ¡°Closing statements, please.¡± Johnny, bewildered, stayed silent, while Anthony delivered a well-prepared argument. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He reframed the case as one of a desperate, oppressed young man, humiliated and exploited, who sought justice with the help of friends. While their actions were rash and immature, they were willing to return the stolen money and face consequences. Anthony emphasized their remorse, pointing out their clean records, community contributions, and readiness to make amends. He argued that the apprentice deserved understanding and a chance to reform. Finally, the judge turned to Johnny. ¡°What are your thoughts? What do you want from this case?¡± Johnny raised his voice, shouting, ¡°I want them locked up for as long as possible!¡± The judge¡¯s expression remained neutral, but Anthony smiled. He knew Johnny had just cemented his downfall. In the Federation¡¯s legal system, judges wielded significant power, and successful lawyers understood how to sway their emotions. Anthony had painted a picture of youthful, misguided revenge against a bitter, petty man. If Johnny had shown even a shred of magnanimity, the judge might have leaned toward harsher sentences. Instead, Johnny¡¯s outburst reinforced the defense¡¯s narrative of him as a vindictive oppressor. ¡°Court is adjourned for ten minutes. I will return with a verdict,¡± the judge declared. Anthony¡¯s composure reassured the young defendants and their families, though Johnny sulked, realizing he might have been outplayed. He cursed himself for not hiring a lawyer, sensing the judge¡¯s subtle disapproval. The verdict was swift. The six youths, all first-time offenders, received varied sentences: - The two who had broken Johnny¡¯s arms with sticks were sentenced to nine months (for the second arm) and one year (for the first arm), along with 60 hours of community service each. - Three others received over 100 hours of community service. - All were ordered to return the stolen money and pay additional compensation for medical expenses and emotional distress. Because Johnny hadn¡¯t hired a lawyer or presented specific claims, the court awarded only standard damages. The apprentice, as the case¡¯s central figure, received a lenient sentence. Taking into account his circumstances and the humiliation he endured, the judge sentenced him to 3.5 years in prison with 200 hours of community service upon release. Anthony celebrated the outcome with his clients and their families, who expressed gratitude. ¡°Frankly,¡± he admitted, ¡°we owe this to Mr. Johnny¡¯s decision not to hire a lawyer. If he had, these sentences could have been much harsher.¡± One parent asked, ¡°By how much?¡± Anthony smiled knowingly. ¡°At least two years more. But the case is closed now. What you do next is your choice.¡± As Anthony left, Johnny stormed after the judge, demanding an explanation for the ¡°light¡± sentences. He was promptly removed from the courtroom. Meanwhile, the apprentice mulled over his next steps. During their discussions, Anthony had revealed evidence of Johnny¡¯s likely tax evasion¡ªa potential leverage point for negotiation. However, Johnny¡¯s refusal to settle had left the matter unresolved. In a final act before serving his sentence, the apprentice wrote a letter to the Federation Tax Authority: ¡°Dear Federation Tax Authority, I work at a bakery and suspect my boss¡­¡± Though his handwriting was poor, the letter was legible. After passing court scrutiny, it was sealed and dropped into the courthouse¡¯s mailbox, destined for the tax office. Such tips required no postage; the tax bureau had arrangements with the postal service to cover the costs. As the apprentice prepared for his sentence, he learned his mother had left Jingang City. They might never meet again. For the first time in a long while, he felt a strange sense of relief. Chapter 65: The Crime Scene Chapter 65: The Crime Scene ¡°¡­We¡¯re sorry, we¡¯ll investigate this as soon as possible!¡± The customer service operator hung up the phone with a forced smile and sighed. A curious colleague asked, ¡°Another complaint about the sewers?¡± Nodding, the operator jotted the details of the complaint in her logbook. When she finished, she noticed the page already listed more than twenty complaints. She found it odd and mumbled, both to her colleague and herself, ¡°Yes, but¡­ this is strange. These complaints happen every year, but¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s been unusually frequent the past two days, and all from the same area¡ªBirlington Road in the Imperial District.¡± Her colleague shrugged. ¡°Maybe some stray animals died in the sewers. It¡¯s happened before.¡± The operator nodded, agreeing it was plausible. Late September was one of the hottest times of the year. The sweltering heat didn¡¯t just affect people¡ªanimals sought refuge in cooler places like sewers. Stray cats and dogs weren¡¯t as selective as humans about shelter. But sewers could be deadly, with hazards like wires and hooks trapping animals. The intense heat and humidity turned such deaths into biological disasters within a day or two, spreading a foul stench. The operator had encountered similar situations before, requiring municipal workers to remove decomposing animal corpses. According to their manual: - Fewer than five complaints about a public issue? Ignore them. - Between five and ten? Consider including the issue in the work report. - Over ten? Write a separate report and prioritize it. - Over twenty? Call the appropriate department immediately. She counted the complaints again¡ªdefinitely over twenty. Quietly motioning for her colleague to keep silent, she dialed the number for the relevant office. ¡°This is the City Services Complaint Office. We have an urgent matter at 72 Birlington Road. Over twenty people have reported a foul stench in the area¡ªlikely a decomposing animal.¡± The voice on the other end responded with coarse swearing¡ªprobably habitual venting rather than directed at anyone in particular. ¡°Got it, ma¡¯am. I¡¯ll head there right away,¡± the worker grumbled, hanging up mid-rant. ¡°Still cursing people?¡± her colleague asked, leaning back in his chair. The operator smiled. ¡°It¡¯s a tough job, crawling into sewers in this heat. I¡¯d probably curse too if I had to do it.¡± ¡°Sure, but not as creatively as that guy!¡± They laughed it off, planning to go shopping after work, and soon forgot about the matter. Meanwhile, two municipal workers reluctantly left their air-conditioned office, sweating and grumbling as they drove a pickup truck through the scorching streets. Ever since the Secretary of State had declared ¡°appropriate attire is the bare minimum respect owed to society,¡± federal employees were mandated to dress neatly¡ªeven in unbearable heat. These two workers had no choice but to wear their summer uniforms, fully covered to avoid pay deductions. If they weren¡¯t civil servants, they might have quit already. But as government employees, they enjoyed excellent salaries, benefits, and job security, making the rules tolerable. The truck rumbled toward 72 Birlington Road. Even before stepping out, they were hit by a familiar stench, one they¡¯d dealt with countless times before. ??¦­??¨º? Standard protocol required them to don protective gear, including gloves and masks, but they often skipped this step, too accustomed to the job to care. Finding the source of the smell, they set up a ¡°No Entry¡± sign and logged their start time in a notebook before lifting the manhole cover. To their surprise, the expected wave of foul odor didn¡¯t greet them. Sharing a puzzled glance, one worker descended into the sewer. Ten minutes later, he re-emerged. ¡°Nothing down there except some dead rats.¡± Rats dying in sewers was common after heavy rainstorms. But the smell of a few dead rats was far weaker than the overwhelming stench they¡¯d noticed. ¡°This smell¡­ it¡¯s not coming from the sewer,¡± one said, sniffing the air. Following the odor, they discovered it was emanating from the basement of an old building nearby, through a small ventilation window facing the street. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Satisfied that the source wasn¡¯t their responsibility, they packed up and left, leaving the matter to the police. The complaint reached the local precinct, and soon a patrol car emerged from a shaded alley, heading toward the address. Seven minutes later, two officers arrived and immediately covered their noses against the overpowering stench. One officer knelt by the basement window, peering through its grimy glass but seeing nothing. The smell, however, was unmistakable: the distinct odor of decomposing flesh. The other officer knocked on the building¡¯s ground-floor door, which was answered by an elderly woman. ¡°Did you handle the smell?¡± she snapped, unimpressed by the officer¡¯s presence. He gestured toward his badge. ¡°Ma¡¯am, do you know who occupies the basement? Can we contact the owner?¡± The woman scowled but provided a phone number. Within minutes, the landlord arrived and unlocked the door. The moment the door swung open, the stench poured out, so potent it stung their eyes. The officers immediately called for backup. Twenty minutes later, four more police cars and a coroner¡¯s van arrived. Even seasoned city coroners were overwhelmed by the smell, despite their experience with countless crime scenes. It took another thirty minutes for forensic specialists in full hazmat suits to enter the basement. Inside, eight bodies lay strewn across the floor. Seven had been shot, while one exhibited an unusual cause of death. After documenting the scene, the bodies were removed. Some officers stayed behind to collect evidence once the stench subsided. The forensic team explained that the high temperatures in the sealed space had accelerated decomposition. The air was teeming with bacteria, making it advisable to wait before re-entering. Back at the precinct, the case was handed to Detective Lukar, who was on day shift. Visiting the morgue to review the bodies, he found the stench unbearable even in the sterilized facility. ¡°Seven shot, one with six bullet wounds,¡± the coroner reported. ¡°The eighth¡­ was force-fed to death.¡± ¡°Force-fed?¡± Lukar, standing outside the morgue, looked at the coroner incredulously. ¡°You¡¯re saying they were killed by overeating?¡± ¡°Yes. His stomach ruptured, causing hemorrhagic shock.¡± Lukar smirked. ¡°You know what¡¯s the best part of being a homicide detective? You get to see the strangest ways people die.¡± He began skimming the report. ¡°Do we know who they are?¡± The coroner shook his head. ¡°Not my department. But judging by the poker tables at the scene, it was likely an underground casino.¡± Chapter 66: The First Meeting Chapter 66: The First Meeting Detective Lukar returned to his office and immediately made a call. ¡°Are you familiar with the underground casinos in the Imperial District?¡± ¡°¡­No, it¡¯s not about the Kodak Family. I¡¯ve got a case on my hands¡­ Listen, it¡¯s better if you cooperate. I¡¯d rather not say anything that might hurt our relationship.¡± ¡°Alright, see you soon.¡± Lukar was contacting one of his informants. In the Federation, particularly in criminal investigations, having reliable informants was essential. Many cases that were difficult for police to solve were already an open secret in the underworld, where people often knew exactly who was responsible¡ªbut lacked evidence. This was where informants came in: narrowing down suspects and gathering enough leads to build a case. Though the Justice Department officially upheld the presumption of innocence, reality often strayed from that ideal. In truth, many police departments resorted to harsh interrogation tactics, extracting confessions from suspects to close cases quickly¡ªeven if those suspects were innocent. Later, Lukar met with one of his informants in the Imperial District, where he maintained a network of over ten individuals. For some marginalized groups¡ªlegal or illegal immigrants¡ªbecoming informants was a way to survive. Though it came with risks, informants often gained the ability to call on their contacts in the police for protection or extra funding when needed. This arrangement, funded by precinct budgets, provided both security and occasional income. After a tense meeting, the informant walked away with $15 in hand, visibly relieved, while Lukar had all the information he needed to narrow down the suspects. Now it was just a matter of elimination. Meanwhile, Lance remained unaware that the police had begun investigating the deaths of Kent and his men. Even if he knew, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised or concerned. The scene had been meticulously cleaned: all potential fingerprints wiped away, the floor swept, and no footprints left behind. The car they used was parked in a different alley, and even if there were eyewitnesses, there was no direct evidence to tie Lance to the murders. Witnesses might recall seeing Lance and his group enter the alley, but who could prove the victims were the same people seen that day? Without direct evidence, there was nothing to worry about. That day marked the grand opening of the "Wanning Labor Agency." The storefront was adorned with flower baskets and celebratory banners. Lance had even arranged for firecrackers to be set off, which drew the attention of three police cars. When officers realized it wasn¡¯t gang violence but a company celebration, they prepared to leave. However, Lance stopped them, apologizing for the disturbance and making a donation to be forwarded to those in need. He even treated them to cold drinks and donuts. The officers left satisfied, exchanging contact information with Lance and agreeing to meet for a proper meal sometime. What began as an official call ended with camaraderie, showcasing an unexpectedly cordial relationship between police and citizens. Lance also transferred several young employees, who hadn¡¯t accompanied him to confront Kent, to the labor agency. While the pay was slightly lower, it was still fair, and Lance had an honest conversation with them about the nature of their previous work. ¡°Loans are risky business,¡± Lance explained. ¡°It¡¯s not just about the pleasantries when people borrow money; you also have to deal with what happens when they can¡¯t pay it back.¡± ¡°Just letting it slide? Not an option. That¡¯s company money, and it¡¯s your job to recover it.¡± Not everyone could handle this kind of work. Even though Lance¡¯s methods were less brutal than traditional financial companies, they still caused hardship for some borrowers, which weighed heavily on the more empathetic employees. ????????????? Instead of letting them suffer in roles they couldn¡¯t handle, Lance believed it was better to give them a fresh start in a less demanding line of work. The agency was strategically located next to an affordable caf¨¦, ensuring plenty of foot traffic. The business offered more than just job placements, and Lance hoped its diverse services would attract attention. Shortly after the police officers left, a car screeched to a halt near the agency. A man in his early thirties, wearing a dark shirt, jeans, and sunglasses, stepped out. He glanced at Lance, nodded briefly, and walked past him into the caf¨¦ to order an iced coffee. While waiting, he turned and noticed the labor agency''s sign listing its services. ¡°You the owner?¡± he asked. Lance nodded. ¡°I am.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t sound like a native Federation citizen.¡± Lance didn¡¯t deny it. ¡°I¡¯m local, but I was trafficked to a sweatshop as a child. It wasn¡¯t until adulthood that I found my way back. There was a report about it.¡± The man smiled. ¡°Hope your rough past didn¡¯t leave scars that won¡¯t heal. You¡¯re interesting¡ªmost people don¡¯t like talking about such things.¡± He extended his hand. ¡°Lukar Weitz. Nice to meet you.¡± Lance shook it. ¡°Lance. Lance White. Just call me Lance.¡± Their handshake was brief. Lukar placed his hands on his hips and pointed to the agency¡¯s sign. ¡°What¡¯s this ¡®work plan management¡¯ about? I don¡¯t get it.¡± Lance explained, ¡°You must be a native, right?¡± Lukar nodded. ¡°Yes, I am.¡± ¡°Then you have a work card?¡± ¡°Of course. So?¡± ¡°If you want to earn at least $32 a month without working, we should talk.¡± Lukar raised an eyebrow, immediately catching on. ¡°You¡¯re saying I hand over my work card to you, you send someone to work using it, and we split the earnings?¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± ¡°You¡¯ve tapped into the reality here,¡± Lukar remarked, impressed. ¡°Many people don¡¯t know how to navigate this or don¡¯t want to deal with illegal immigrants. So, you¡¯ve taken the initiative.¡± S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Lukar chuckled. ¡°Genius. I¡¯ve never heard of a company doing this. You¡¯re bound to succeed.¡± Lance¡¯s agency streamlined what was previously an informal, word-of-mouth system. It catered to those who didn¡¯t want to risk directly hiring or working with illegal immigrants but saw the financial potential. With a small fee of $1.50 per job, each work card could net Lance around $3 in profit. Though seemingly modest, in a city like Jingang, with over 200,000 illegal immigrants, even a fraction of the market¡ªsay 5%¡ªcould generate monthly revenues exceeding $10,000. Lance was optimistic about scaling the business, though he knew it depended on policies and public sentiment. Ironically, as someone who had once struggled as an immigrant, Lance now found himself with a vested interest in keeping others from achieving legal status. The caf¨¦ server handed Lukar his iced coffee, and he passed a business card to Lance. ¡°Almost forgot¡ªI¡¯m with the police. I have a feeling we¡¯ll meet again.¡± Lance pocketed the card. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect that. This coffee¡¯s on me.¡± Lukar, not one to refuse a gesture, smiled. ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll return the favor next time.¡± He checked his watch, tilted his head, and said, ¡°I¡¯ve got to go. See you around.¡± ¡°See you!¡± Lance replied. Chapter 67: Extortion Chapter 67: Extortion While Detective Lukar was busy tracking down the identities of the victims in the Imperial District, and Lance¡¯s labor agency was attracting a steady stream of clients, Mr. Jobav found himself facing a different kind of trouble. Mr. Jobav¡¯s office was situated in the most vibrant part of the Imperial District. Though not officially the city center, this area was the heart of activity for the Empire¡¯s citizens in Jingang City. Tourists from the Empire often remarked to their families upon returning home that, even in an unfamiliar Federation city, one could thrive in certain neighborhoods that felt just like home. Inside his opulent office, Mr. Jobav sat across from a young man on the genuine leather sofa. The visitor¡¯s green-dyed hair, orange jacket, blue pants, and white leather shoes painted a loud, obnoxious picture. Adding insult to injury, his shoes rested on Jobav¡¯s $3,000 coffee table, scattering dust across its surface. When his secretary had informed him that Jimmy was here to see him, Jobav¡¯s first instinct was to tell her he wasn¡¯t available. He even contemplated hiding, but it was too late. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jimmy had kicked open the $1,500 solid wood door before the secretary could stop him. With a cigarette dangling from his lips, he swaggered in and slumped onto the sofa. Jimmy was no ordinary visitor¡ªhe was a high-ranking member of the Brotherhood, one of the three major gangs in the Port District. ¡°Jobav, I hear you¡¯ve been avoiding me?¡± Jimmy sneered, casually flicking ash onto the plush carpet, a sight that made Jobav wince. He managed a tight smile and shook his head. ¡°Why would I? We¡¯re friends; I have no reason to avoid you.¡± Jimmy smirked and pointed at him. ¡°You¡¯d better mean that.¡± He glanced around the luxurious office. ¡°Still the same old setup¡ªopulent enough to make anyone jealous, old Jobav.¡± Reaching into his pocket, Jimmy pulled out a crumpled $2 bill and tossed it at Jobav. The bill hit Jobav and landed on the carpet, coming to rest almost immediately due to the thick pile. Jobav¡¯s assistant, who had just arrived, witnessed the scene and quickly stepped forward with a forced smile. Picking up the money, he smoothed it out and handed it back to Jimmy. ¡°Mr. Jimmy, you dropped this.¡± Jimmy snorted, giving the assistant a once-over before laughing. ¡°I like you. Why don¡¯t you work for me instead? There¡¯s no future sticking with old Jobav.¡± The assistant bowed politely. ¡°I¡¯m not considering a career change for now.¡± Jimmy shrugged dismissively. ¡°I hear you¡¯ve been calling me a deadbeat, so I came here today to pay back what I owe.¡± ¡°You know, business hasn¡¯t been great lately. Those protests have turned the Port District into a mess. I can¡¯t pay you back all at once.¡± He waved the $2 bill. ¡°Here, take this. Don¡¯t say I don¡¯t pay my debts.¡± Jobav and his assistant exchanged glances, silently communicating. The assistant accepted the money with a sycophantic smile. ¡°Of course not, Mr. Jimmy. Two dollars is still money. We¡¯d never accuse you of being a deadbeat.¡± ????????¨º? Jimmy¡¯s smug expression grew. He loved how easy it was to intimidate these Imperial types. Recently, he¡¯d lost a significant amount of money gambling at the Kodak Family¡¯s casino. He suspected the dealers were cheating but had no proof. This time, the losses were even more troubling because $20,000 of it belonged to the gang¡¯s accounts. If he didn¡¯t repay it by October 7, his boss¡ªknown for being genuinely unhinged¡ªwould come after him. Jimmy might have been considered crazy, but he knew his limits. His boss was in another league. With no other options, Jimmy had remembered Jobav, whom he¡¯d extorted for $30,000 once before. If he could squeeze him for more, it might buy him some time. The assistant, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. ¡°Mr. Jimmy, can I get you something to drink?¡± ¡°Whiskey. Neat. A big glass.¡± The request made the assistant¡¯s scalp tingle, but he quickly complied. Jobav sat on the opposite side of the sofa and ordered his own drink, with ice. The ice wasn¡¯t just for taste¡ªit was a subtle way to dilute the alcohol¡¯s intensity. Jimmy, however, didn¡¯t want his drink softened. His preference was a deliberate signal of dominance. As the assistant left to prepare the drinks, Jobav tried to maintain a calm demeanor but couldn¡¯t resist a small jab. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to come all this way for $2. A call would have sufficed, and I¡¯d have sent someone to pick it up.¡± Jimmy¡¯s face contorted in mock rage. ¡°Are you mocking me?¡± Jobav hastily denied it. ¡°Not at all. It¡¯s just that in this heat, there¡¯s no need to trouble yourself. Whether it¡¯s $2 or $20,000, I could have arranged to collect it.¡± Jimmy¡¯s eyes gleamed with a menacing glint. ¡°You¡¯d better not be mocking me, old Jobav. You know me¡ªI scare even myself when I get angry.¡± Jobav forced a laugh and didn¡¯t respond. The assistant returned with a tray of drinks and some sliced fruit¡ªbananas, apples, and cherries. Jimmy swung his legs off the table, grabbed a cherry, and popped it into his mouth. ¡°Let me cut to the chase,¡± he said, spitting the cherry pit onto the carpet. The bright red pit resembled a drop of blood against the plush fabric. ¡°I¡¯m short on cash. Lend me $50,000, and I¡¯ll repay you by the end of the year.¡± Jobav¡¯s eyes fixated on the cherry pit. The assistant jumped in to defuse the situation. ¡°Mr. Jimmy, we¡¯re a bit tight on funds ourselves¡­¡± Jimmy¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°And how is that my problem?¡± Jobav knew it was time to step in. ¡°I don¡¯t have that kind of money. Besides, you still owe me $29,998 from the last loan. Until that¡¯s repaid, I won¡¯t extend another.¡± Jimmy scoffed, picking up his glass of whiskey but not drinking it. Instead, he asked mockingly, ¡°No ice? Are you looking down on me?¡± Both Jobav and the assistant were stunned by the audacity of the question. The assistant scrambled to apologize. ¡°That¡¯s my fault. I¡¯ll fix it immediately¡ª¡± Before he could finish, Jimmy hurled the glass at Jobav¡¯s bookshelf. The glass shattered, spilling whiskey onto the antique books and leaving scratches on the cabinet. Some of the liquor splashed onto Jobav, who calmly wiped himself with a handkerchief before glaring at Jimmy. Jimmy pulled a pistol from his waistband, chambered a round, and slammed it onto the coffee table, sliding it toward Jobav. ¡°I know you hate me, maybe even want me dead. So here¡¯s your chance,¡± Jimmy sneered. ¡°Pick it up and shoot me. Or give me the money, and I¡¯ll leave you alone for good. Your call, old Jobav.¡± The assistant rushed to Jobav¡¯s side, whispering urgently to calm him down. After a tense moment, Jobav unclenched his fists and exhaled. ¡°I don¡¯t have that much.¡± Jimmy smirked triumphantly. ¡°Fine. $30,000. Last time.¡± After Jimmy left, Jobav¡ªknown for his composed demeanor¡ªvented his fury by smashing a few cheap objects. The assistant shooed away curious employees, closed the door, and returned silently to the office. ¡°He¡¯ll come back. Again and again. We can¡¯t keep living like this!¡± ¡°We need to fight back!¡± Jobav paced the room, his face grim. ¡°Find a hitman. I want him dead. Everyone needs to know¡ªI¡¯m not someone to be messed with!¡± Chapter 68: The Hitman Chapter 68: The Hitman In the end, Mr. Jobav didn¡¯t immediately hire a hitman. Instead, he picked up the phone and called Cohen, a senior member of the Camille Gang. Cohen and Jobav hailed from the same region, making them quasi-hometown acquaintances. With Jobav¡¯s financial support, Cohen had climbed the ranks to his current position. In the Federation¡ªor anywhere in the world, for that matter¡ªmoney was the foundation for advancement, whether in politics, business, or gangs. In the underworld, gaining influence required tangible benefits to rally supporters. Though their relationship was cordial, Jobav and the Camille Gang were not closely tied. When Cohen received Jobav¡¯s call, he was reclining in his chair, a young woman kneeling before him. With his head tilted back and eyes half-closed, he answered lazily, ¡°Mr. Jobav, what can I do for you?¡± S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The use of "Mr. Jobav" was Cohen¡¯s way of sounding familiar, even deferential. Jobav glanced at the receiver, feeling the situation was absurd. ¡°If you¡¯re busy, I can call back later.¡± ¡°Busy?¡± Cohen chuckled. ¡°Not at all, both hands are free! What can I help you with today?¡± Cohen¡¯s tone was laced with mockery. Their past interactions had been indirect, often mediated through assistants or even their assistants'' relatives. Jobav had always avoided direct contact with Cohen. This was understandable. Jobav, a semi-high-society Imperial immigrant, had little interest in associating directly with a notorious gang leader. His ambition was to integrate into the Federation¡¯s elite, not sink into the mire of the underworld. To achieve that goal, Jobav needed to maintain a reputation untainted by scandal. Being known as a banker with ties to gangs was the last thing he wanted. While Jobav¡¯s avoidance of direct contact was practical, it had always irked Cohen. Initially, when Cohen was just a struggling newcomer, he hadn¡¯t minded. But as he rose through the gang''s ranks, the lack of respect began to fester. Understanding Cohen¡¯s underlying resentment, Jobav suppressed his frustration and got to the point. ¡°I have a problem.¡± Cohen pressed the woman¡¯s head down further and smirked. ¡°Whatever the issue, just say the word. I owe my success to your support.¡± ¡°Jimmy,¡± Jobav said simply. ¡°Jimmy?¡± Cohen paused, frowning. ¡°Jimmy from the Brotherhood?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the one.¡± Cohen¡¯s initial eagerness to profit from the situation faded. ¡°What did he do to you?¡± ¡°He¡¯s extorted me multiple times,¡± Jobav admitted. ¡°Today, he walked off with another $30,000.¡± Cohen¡¯s expression shifted to one of mild exasperation. ¡°Mr. Jobav, everyone says you¡¯re worth millions. It¡¯s just $30,000¡ªhardly worth getting involved with lunatics like him.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure you understand Jimmy or the Brotherhood,¡± Cohen continued. ¡°They¡¯re former child gang members from the Port District. Most of them grew up in single-parent homes or as orphans. They¡¯ve always been reckless and unrestrained.¡± ????????¨ºS? ¡°Honestly, if it were anyone else, I might be able to help. But if it¡¯s Jimmy from the Brotherhood, the best I can do is arrange a meeting to talk.¡± ¡°Not me¡ªyou,¡± Jobav clarified coldly. The Brotherhood¡¯s origins as a child gang had once been front-page news in The Federation Times. The Port District¡¯s challenges were complex, stemming from its transient population of sailors and tourists. After long voyages, many sought out the district¡¯s infamous services. Some providers operated professionally in organized settings with safety protocols. Others, however, were desperate individuals engaging in unregulated transactions. The result was a high number of abandoned infants, their mothers often unknown and their fathers almost certainly foreigners. These children were taken in by orphanages and grew up under Federation laws that allowed child labor. Learning to band together for survival, many formed gangs, which eventually evolved into organized groups like the Brotherhood. While economic improvements had reduced the visibility of child gang issues, the problem had never disappeared¡ªonly the media¡¯s attention had. Cohen¡¯s reluctance was clear as he advised Jobav to drop the matter. ¡°Mr. Jobav, you¡¯re a man of means. These kids are scrappy nobodies. Why risk everything over a trivial sum? If it¡¯s too much trouble, you could even move to another city. The Brotherhood¡¯s influence doesn¡¯t extend far beyond the Port District.¡± Frustrated, Jobav ended the call abruptly. Back in his office, Jobav seethed. ¡°Is it my fault I have money?¡± he raged. ¡°No! In the Federation, being wealthy is the only thing that matters.¡± What was wrong, he decided, was failing to act like a proper, untouchable wealthy man. Turning to his assistant, he declared, ¡°This ends now. Find a hitman, pay them, and get rid of Jimmy.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care about the $60,000. I need to send a message!¡± The assistant, recognizing that Jobav was dead set on revenge, sighed and nodded. ¡°How much are you willing to spend?¡± ¡°Keep it under $20,000,¡± Jobav replied tersely. The assistant contacted his nephew, who often handled dirty work for Jobav. ¡°Two grand up front. Find a hitman to take out Jimmy from the Brotherhood. I¡¯ll send you his photo.¡± The nephew, a thirty-year-old with his own network, quickly located a willing participant: a recently smuggled Imperial deserter. The deserter needed money fast to repay his debts to the smugglers and protect his family back home. This job, paying $5,000, seemed perfect. The deserter accepted immediately, with $2,000 paid upfront. He used $1,200 to settle his debts, sent $500 to his family, and spent the remaining $300 freely, reasoning, ¡°If I die, at least I¡¯ll have enjoyed myself a little.¡± For a week, he scouted the Port District, tracking Jimmy¡¯s movements. Today, he decided, would be Jimmy¡¯s last. As he prepared for the hit, the deserter took a swig from a bottle. ¡°Now this is real liquor,¡± he muttered, mocking the watered-down spirits back in the Empire. Checking his weapon one last time, he stepped into the sunlight, ready to embrace what he saw as a new beginning. Chapter 69: Family and Work Chapter 69: Family and Work The Port District was vast and bustling, though its prosperity was one of poverty rather than opulence. Its vibrancy was a stark contrast to the Bay Area or the downtown core. In the Port District, women offering companionship services wore cheap, often secondhand, revealing clothes. They stood under streetlights at alley corners, conducting quick, transactional business. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Clients would negotiate prices and head into the alleys. There was no pretense of charm or conversation¡ªonly business. In the Bay Area, even streetwalkers had an air of sophistication, lounging in outdoor caf¨¦s, sipping coffee, and flirting. Deals would often be sealed in a nearby hotel after moments of playful banter, giving the illusion of a spontaneous romance. Downtown, business was high-end and direct. Clients needed deep pockets to enjoy the finest services available. Each district had its own version of prosperity. To say the Port District wasn¡¯t bustling would be wrong¡ªthe streets were filled with commerce and customers. The deserter-turned-hitman arrived at the southeastern corner of the first pier''s exit, leaning against a phone booth while observing a three-story building across the street. Occasionally, his gaze drifted toward the passing young women, whose bold and vibrant demeanor briefly distracted him. But he quickly refocused on his target: the Brotherhood¡¯s headquarters. The building bore a sign reading "Brothers Import & Export Company." The gang¡¯s income streams were diverse¡ªprotection rackets, extortion, kidnapping, forced labor deals, and smuggling. No one knew exactly how much they earned monthly, but it was enough for their leader, ¡°Big Polly,¡± to buy a villa in the Bay Area. Yet Polly preferred to stay in the Port District. The Bay Area was a playground for the rich, but the Port was his true home. Inside the Brotherhood¡¯s headquarters, Jimmy was sweating profusely on the sofa in the third-floor manager¡¯s office. ¡°Wipe that sweat off. You¡¯re dripping all over,¡± Polly said casually, tossing a handkerchief onto the coffee table. Jimmy grabbed it without thinking, dabbing his forehead. It wasn¡¯t until the sticky texture registered that he realized something was off. He glanced at the handkerchief, but Polly¡¯s voice drew his attention away. ¡°I hear you¡¯ve been quite the big spender at the casino lately. Care to explain?¡± Polly, despite his diminutive stature¡ªbarely 5¡¯3¡± in shoes¡ªexuded an intimidating presence. He was lean, with pale, almost delicate skin. Rumors swirled about his childhood trauma, including abuse at the hands of an orphanage caretaker, whom Polly reportedly killed with a dinner knife. That was the start of Polly¡¯s bloody rise to power, earning him the moniker ¡°Big Polly.¡± It was less a nod to his stature and more an assertion of his dominance. Sitting next to Polly, Jimmy, significantly taller, felt dwarfed by his boss¡¯s aura. ¡°Polly, I¡­¡± Jimmy stammered, silently cursing whoever had ratted him out. Polly raised a hand to stop him, settling into the sofa beside him. Jimmy instinctively leaned forward, making it easier for Polly to drape an arm around his shoulder. ?¨¤???¦¥s? ¡°I don¡¯t care if you win or lose, Jimmy. I only care about whether you¡¯re touching the company¡¯s money. That affects everyone here¡ªyou understand, right?¡± Jimmy nodded frantically. ¡°I swear, Polly, I didn¡¯t touch a single cent of the company¡¯s money. The accounts are already with the accountant.¡± Polly nodded slightly. ¡°I know, Jimmy. That¡¯s the only reason you¡¯re sitting here right now.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind if you guys hustle on the side, but if your stupidity drags trouble to my doorstep¡­ well, you know what happens.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve worked together for years, Jimmy. I don¡¯t want to lose any of my brothers. Do you understand me?¡± Jimmy nodded so quickly it was a wonder his head didn¡¯t fall off. ¡°Of course!¡± After a moment¡¯s hesitation, he decided to confess. ¡°I did squeeze some money out of that banker, Jobav, from the Imperial District¡­¡± Polly raised an eyebrow, letting go of Jimmy and standing up. He patted Jimmy¡¯s shoulder before stepping behind his desk. ¡°I know Jobav¡ªa rich Imperial snob. How much did you get from him?¡± ¡°Thirty thousand.¡± Polly repeated the figure, then chuckled, prompting Jimmy to join in nervously. Polly¡¯s laughter was peculiar, his shoulders shaking with each guffaw. But just as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Standing over Jimmy, Polly¡¯s expression turned icy. He loved towering over people, even if it required them to be seated. ¡°You shook down a rich man for thirty grand and lived to tell the tale? That¡¯s a miracle!¡± Polly said coldly. ¡°Now tell me¡ªwhy did that miracle happen?¡± Jimmy squirmed under Polly¡¯s gaze, his words fumbling. ¡°Because Jobav is a pushover. Polly, everyone shakes him down. He never fights back.¡± ¡°Everyone?¡± Polly¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Everyone,¡± Jimmy confirmed. Polly pondered this, then turned back to his desk. ¡°If I ever find out you gambled with the company¡¯s money again, I¡¯ll feed you to the fish myself.¡± ¡°Now get out of my office. A shipment of liquor is arriving this afternoon. If you screw that up¡­¡± Jimmy leapt to his feet, swearing allegiance. ¡°I¡¯d kill myself before you could!¡± Relieved, he realized he¡¯d dodged a bullet¡ªnot because of any brotherly bond, but because he¡¯d balanced the accounts in time. Polly shooed him away with a wave. Jimmy exited the office, muttering curses under his breath. Outside, the hitman spotted Jimmy emerging from the building. It was time. Chapter 70: A Life Lost, A Debt Paid Chapter 70: A Life Lost, A Debt Paid The hitman spotted Jimmy the moment he stepped out of the Brotherhood''s building. Tossing aside his newspaper, he stood by the curb, watching Jimmy chat with his crew as they waited for a car. The hitman knew this was the best moment to strike. Jimmy and his men felt safe in numbers, likely assuming no one would dare attack in broad daylight. He¡¯d prepared meticulously for this day. Over the past week, he hadn¡¯t been idle¡ªhe¡¯d familiarized himself with every alley, planned escape routes, and even planted tools to aid his escape, such as a rope dangling over a three-meter wall. He¡¯d practiced with the McGray semi-automatic pistol he¡¯d been given, testing its reliability and cleaning the bullets daily to avoid the misfires he¡¯d experienced on the battlefield. He knew all too well how a lack of maintenance could mean the difference between life and death. Every preparation led to this moment. The street was bustling, cars zipping past in both directions. The hitman watched as Jimmy and his crew stepped to the curb. Their car was already pulling out of the alley. Time was running out. If he didn¡¯t act now, Jimmy would be gone, and the hitman would have to explain his failure to his contact¡ªa conversation he¡¯d rather not have. Taking a deep breath, he made his move, darting across the street in full view of the traffic. The sound of blaring horns startled Jimmy, who turned to see a man recklessly crossing the road. Their eyes met. In that instant, the hitman felt exposed. His hand darted into his jacket, reaching for his weapon¡ªa move so dangerous in the Federation that police wouldn¡¯t hesitate to shoot without warning. Jimmy¡¯s instincts kicked in. His hand flew to his own weapon, tucked at his waist. Both men fired almost simultaneously. The first shot hit Jimmy, sending a shockwave of pain through his shoulder. The hitman tried to fire a second shot, but his gun jammed. Swearing under his breath, he ducked and ejected the faulty round, trying to clear the chamber. Meanwhile, Jimmy¡¯s men and others pouring out of the Brotherhood building unleashed a hail of gunfire. The hitman¡¯s heart raced as bullets whizzed past him. The street erupted into chaos, the sound of gunfire echoing off the surrounding buildings. Inside his office, Big Polly froze at the sound of gunfire. Pulling a submachine gun from his desk drawer, he pressed himself against the wall, stealing a quick glance out the window. Though the glimpse was brief, he saw enough¡ªa man firing wildly as he retreated across the street. Polly didn¡¯t recognize the shooter, but it was clear enough: anyone firing at his building was an enemy. Throwing open the window, Polly fired a burst of suppressive fire, forcing the hitman to dive for cover as he reached the opposite sidewalk. The hitman stumbled into the planned escape route, heart pounding and sweat pouring down his face. He cursed under his breath, furious at the situation. He¡¯d expected a simple hit¡ªone or two bodyguards, maybe a little resistance. He hadn¡¯t anticipated this kind of firepower. R??¦­?§£????? These Federation thugs were as armed and dangerous as the Empire¡¯s rebels! Blood dripped from his side, forming a crimson trail as he fled. His vision blurred, and his legs felt heavy. Jimmy, clutching his wounded shoulder, was hot on the hitman¡¯s trail. The hitman reached a dead end, trying to catch his breath as dizziness overtook him. He fumbled for his weapon, but his hand found only an empty holster. The misfiring pistol lay discarded somewhere behind him. When Jimmy and his men caught up, the hitman was already on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. ¡°You son of a b****,¡± Jimmy muttered, delivering a savage kick to the lifeless body. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The adrenaline that had kept him going finally wore off, and the pain in his shoulder flared up. ¡°We need to get you patched up,¡± one of his men urged, pulling Jimmy away as the sound of sirens filled the air. They vanished into the labyrinth of alleys, leaving the scene just as the police arrived. A fleet of patrol cars descended on the street, officers cordoning off the area. Two detectives from the Major Crimes Unit, including Detective Hunter, arrived shortly after. They were greeted by three young men stepping forward with their hands raised. ¡°We fired back in self-defense,¡± one of them explained, pointing to a submachine gun lying nearby. ¡°That¡¯s the gun I used.¡± Hunter exchanged a weary glance with his partner. This wasn¡¯t just a confession¡ªit was a statement of power. Inside the Brotherhood¡¯s building, Polly was waiting with a bottle of top-shelf whiskey. ¡°Whiskey or brandy?¡± he asked when Hunter walked in. Hunter sighed, relenting to the inevitable. ¡°Whiskey.¡± As Polly poured the drinks, Hunter frowned. ¡°Polly, we can¡¯t keep covering for you. This kind of shootout¡ªmiddle of the day, witnesses everywhere¡ªit¡¯s impossible to ignore.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why I gave you three scapegoats,¡± Polly replied smoothly. ¡°The public will have their closure, and you¡¯ll have an open-and-shut case.¡± Hunter sipped his drink, savoring the cool bite of the whiskey. ¡°Polly, I¡¯ve told you before¡ªkeep your violence out of the public eye. Do you have any idea how much trouble you cause us? Couldn¡¯t you take your fights to Angel Lake like the other families?¡± Polly pulled out his checkbook and scribbled a number, sliding the check across the bar. Hunter glanced at the amount, pushing his hair back. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant¡­¡± Polly wrote another check and handed it over. Hunter took a deep breath, his tone softening. ¡°Fine. Just¡­ try not to make my job any harder, alright?¡± As Hunter left, Polly paced the room, his mind racing. ¡°Find Jimmy. Now!¡± he barked at one of his men. Chapter 71: Investments and Unpaid Wages Chapter 71: Investments and Unpaid WagesGunfights erupting at night in Jingang City are common, but an intense shootout in broad daylight is rare. Though brief, this occurred in the port district, one of the three most active areas in the city. Within an hour, almost half of Jingang City knew that the Brotherhood had engaged in a firefight with someone outside their office in broad daylight. Jimmy was shot but managed to leave. The gunman who injured him died in an alley. In a room, Mr. Jobav sat with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin, looking deeply troubled¡ªlike someone suffering from constipation. He had already heard the news and knew it was the handiwork of the hitman he sent his assistant to hire. The result was far from satisfactory. The assistant was on a call to confirm the details, and after a long time, he hung up, looking a bit awkward. Mr. Jobav straightened his back. ¡°I really hoped I wouldn¡¯t have to hear about things like this¡ªit increases my risks¡ªbut I still want to know: what kind of useless trash did you find?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t even handle such a simple task?¡± The assistant, familiar with Mr. Jobav after years of cooperation, could hear the suppressed fury in his tone. He had thought hiring a hitman to take out a gang enforcer was a routine task, nearly foolproof. It wasn¡¯t like they were asked to assassinate the Federation President. Even presidential assassinations aren¡¯t always successful. But this was just a small-time figure, and the mission inexplicably failed. When Mr. Jobav heard, ¡°They were shooting at each other from across a busy street,¡± his mind buzzed. ¡°I need an explanation.¡± The assistant opened his mouth, wanting to admit they had indeed hired someone unreliable, but struggled to explain the role his nephew played. Eventually, he sighed. ¡°This is on me.¡± Mr. Jobav shot him a sideways glance. ¡°This isn¡¯t about whose fault it is. It¡¯s about whether we¡¯ll be exposed.¡± The assistant pursed his lips and carefully explained, ¡°Mr. Jobav, I can guarantee we didn¡¯t disclose where the money came from.¡± ¡°And¡­ if necessary, I can have him step forward and take responsibility¡­¡± The assistant winced. If his nephew came forward to admit he was the one responsible, the Brotherhood¡¯s retaliation would be swift and brutal. His nephew couldn¡¯t withstand such vengeance and would likely be ritually executed. Ritual executions are horrific. Victims endure inhumane torture before their eventual death. Nearly every gang has its own methods of ritual execution, often called ¡°honor killings.¡± These gruesome acts serve to show both their members and outsiders how terrifying they are. Mr. Jobav raised his hand. ¡°Your nephew is an Imperial. Jimmy just took thirty thousand from me. If you think pinning this on him will end things, you¡¯re naive.¡± He left some thoughts unspoken. The assistant likely knew that pinning this on an Imperial would implicate Mr. Jobav himself. While they were still discussing their next steps, the phone rang suddenly. The sound startled Mr. Jobav, whose nerves were on edge, causing him to shudder slightly. It took several seconds before he composed himself. ¡°Answer it.¡± The assistant, also startled, collected himself and picked up the phone. Jimmy¡¯s voice came through, addressing Mr. Jobav with exaggerated familiarity. ??????¦Ï??? ¡°Tell old Joe this isn¡¯t over. He didn¡¯t just hurt me¡ªhe hurt the entire Brotherhood. He¡¯d better find someone willing to back him up before we come for revenge!¡± sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Big Polly is furious, and I promise, he¡¯s going to die horribly!¡± ¡°And not just him!¡± The call ended abruptly, not giving them a chance to respond. After listening, Mr. Jobav fell silent for a long time. Then he slowly stood up and walked to the window. Looking out at the golden-lit Jingang City, his previously conflicted expression hardened with resolve. ¡°Contact the mayor for me. Tell him I¡¯d like to discuss investment opportunities.¡± The assistant turned to make the call, his mood equally grim. In Jingang City, the mayor was known for being young, charismatic, and competent. While the city¡¯s development hadn¡¯t started under him, he had made notable progress in recent years, earning widespread support. His achievements here provided a solid foundation for further political advancement. Rumor had it that influential figures in Congress supported him, and there was a strong chance he¡¯d enter the Balman State Assembly soon, taking on a significant role. This would grant him entry into the upper echelons of Federation politics. Both he and Mr. Jobav shared a desire to avoid any stains on their reputations. But as a politician, the mayor also needed funding and support. At a past investment gala, he had approached Mr. Jobav, hoping to secure funding for several projects. However, after some investigation, Mr. Jobav found these infrastructure projects had high initial costs and long payback periods. Though profits were possible, inflation and extended timelines raised doubts about actual gains. Moreover, the minimum investment required was twenty thousand, a significant sum. Privately, Mr. Jobav had offered political donations instead, but the mayor had declined, despite assurances that the arrangements would be airtight¡ªeven the Federation Savings Bank and Tax Bureau wouldn¡¯t uncover them. After that, their interactions waned due to their differing priorities. But now, Mr. Jobav needed a powerful ally to deter the gangs and protect his interests. The mayor, once disregarded, was now one of his few options. The call connected quickly, and the mayor eagerly accepted Mr. Jobav¡¯s invitation. They scheduled a meeting two days later. After his assistant left, Mr. Jobav was filled with frustration and helplessness¡ªmore of the latter. Over the years, he had witnessed the ugly side of the Federation and resented his own Imperial identity. If possible, he longed to become a true Federation citizen more than anyone else. But that was currently out of reach. Until then, he had to maintain the image of ¡°Imperial pride.¡± Exploitation and harm weren¡¯t limited to the lower class. Mr. Jobav faced them too, albeit from more formidable and untouchable forces. Meanwhile, Elvin brought a small-statured man to Lance¡¯s office. ¡°This is Hiram, my cousin¡¯s classmate.¡± ¡°And this is our boss, Mr. Lance.¡± Hiram, around 170 cm tall, was average for the time. He appeared slightly underweight, likely just over 100 pounds, wearing a somewhat dirty shirt and high-waisted blue denim overalls. His long hair often fell into his eyes, prompting frequent head shakes to clear his vision. His appearance was honest and simple¡ªbordering on foolish. ¡°Mr. Lance,¡± he greeted respectfully, bowing slightly to show deference. Lance glanced at Elvin, who gestured for Hiram to explain his situation. ¡°Well, Mr. Lance,¡± Hiram began, glancing at Elvin. ¡°We¡¯ve all heard that you¡¯re the most successful and capable among us young people.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve encountered an injustice recently. The place I work refused to pay our wages, claiming we¡¯re illegal immigrants.¡± ¡°I thought and thought, and figured only you could help us. So I asked Elvin, and here we are.¡± Lance repeated, ¡°We?¡± Hiram nodded. ¡°Yes, there are eight of us¡ªImperial illegal immigrants.¡± ¡°Did you rent work cards?¡± Lance asked. Hiram shook his head. ¡°No.¡± Lance immediately understood. Renting work cards was a way to comply with regulations. However, ignoring the law entirely¡ªemployers hiring and workers accepting illegal arrangements¡ªwas a different story. If the employer chose to ignore the rules, illegal immigrants had little recourse. Reporting to the police wouldn¡¯t significantly harm the employer, who would likely face only a fine. For the immigrants, violating Federation laws could result in deportation or imprisonment before deportation. As a result, most victims remained silent, unwilling to risk jail or deportation over unpaid wages. This created an environment where unscrupulous employers could act with impunity. ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± Lance asked. ¡°I could contact your boss to help you get your wages, then report him after you leave. Or I could beat him up.¡± Hiram smiled earnestly. ¡°Here¡¯s the thing, Mr. Lance: I work in the warehouse, and I know it¡¯s recently been stocked full of liquor¡­¡± Chapter 72: Watchdogs and Watchdogs Chapter 72: Watchdogs and Watchdogs Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.After Hiram mentioned the large stash of liquor in the warehouse, he fell silent, his hands hanging by his sides as he stood to the side. He had said all he needed to. Lance picked up a phone directory¡ªa relic of the times. These directories were an invaluable tool, listing the phone numbers of companies and individuals alike. Some publishers even thrived by printing directories filled with escort service ads, placing them free of charge in public phone booths while earning revenue from advertisers. Dialing a number, Lance waited until a woman answered on the other end. ¡°Connect me to your manager. I¡¯ve got some business to discuss,¡± he said. ¡°Hold on a moment,¡± she replied. About twenty seconds later, the call was transferred. ¡°This is the office. Green speaking. How can I help you?¡± ¡°Hello, Mr. Green. I¡¯m a friend of Hiram. He told me your company owes wages to eight of your workers.¡± Green¡¯s tone immediately turned hostile. ¡°If you¡¯re calling about those bastards¡¯ paychecks, I suggest you hang up now. Otherwise, I¡¯ll find you and shove that receiver so far up your ass you¡¯ll be coughing up dials!¡± The vile threats didn¡¯t faze Lance. ¡°Are you planning to pay them or not?¡± ¡°F*** you!¡± Green snarled before slamming the phone down. Lance looked at the receiver in his hand and shrugged. The phone¡¯s loudspeaker was so clear that everyone in the room had heard the conversation. Elvin stifled a laugh but didn¡¯t dare let it out. Hiram, however, looked furious. For over a minute, the room was silent and the atmosphere heavy. Finally, Elvin broke the silence softly. ¡°I heard that company hires illegal immigrants every month, refuses to pay them, and then kicks them out.¡± Lance, his thoughts interrupted, followed Elvin¡¯s lead. ¡°No one¡¯s fought back or reported them?¡± Hiram jumped in. ¡°Mr. Lance, our boss has ways to handle things. Two people have reported him before.¡± ¡°The first time, he was fined a thousand dollars. The second time, fifteen hundred.¡± ¡°But somehow, both whistleblowers got caught. One had his legs broken, and the other disappeared. The one who got his legs broken now guards the gate.¡± ?????????? ¡°Guards the gate?¡± Lance echoed, perplexed. ¡°As in, still works at your warehouse?¡± Hiram nodded. ¡°He¡¯s tied to the guard post like a dog. The boss and his men feed him, and honestly, he¡¯s¡­ numb to it all by now.¡± ¡°They used this to warn us. The boss claims he¡¯s well-connected with law enforcement. He says anyone who reports him will face severe consequences.¡± ¡°Mr. Lance, please help us. And not just for our wages¡ªfor all the other Imperials he¡¯s hurt, too!¡± Lance made up his mind. ¡°How many trucks would it take to load all the liquor?¡± Hiram¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement. ¡°Five trucks, Mr. Lance.¡± ¡°If we go at night, will it alert them?¡± ¡°Night shifts are staffed by us. The company has two overseers, but they sleep in a house inside the warehouse and rarely come out.¡± Lance turned to Elvin. ¡°You and Hiram figure out the specifics. I¡¯ll handle the trucks.¡± Since they didn¡¯t want to resolve this peacefully, Lance decided to take a different approach. The streets were quieter than usual due to recent heavy rains that kept most people indoors. When Lance arrived at the Lezu office, Fordis wasn¡¯t around; he was out working. The receptionist¡ªa pretty, apathetic young woman¡ªwas still at her desk. Lance headed straight for Alberto. Alberto was reading Like many, he occasionally enjoyed betting on horse races¡ªthough the word ¡°occasionally¡± wasn¡¯t always literal. Horse racing had become an obsession for many, with some wealthy individuals even breeding their own horses to compete. While it seemed like a hobby, it was big business. A champion racehorse¡¯s stud fees could exceed the cost of a luxury car. After the ¡°Bombshell Duke¡± achieved a Triple Crown a few years ago, its stud fees rose to $35,000 to $50,000 per pairing. Many viewed horse racing as a growing investment opportunity, and the industry was booming. Across the Federation, racetracks were being built, joining the burgeoning Racing League. ¡°Not into baseball anymore?¡± Lance asked, taking a seat across from Alberto. Alberto set down his newspaper and gestured toward the cigarettes on the table. ¡°It¡¯s not that I¡¯ve lost interest, but our next opponents are too weak to excite me.¡± ¡°You know, only strong rivals get my blood pumping. Weak ones? Not worth the trip to the stadium!¡± ¡°So, are we here to talk baseball or horse racing? If you¡¯re interested, I could go on all day!¡± Lance chuckled. ¡°Not today, but maybe someday. For now, I need to borrow two trucks.¡± ¡°Trucks?¡± Alberto repeated, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Your ventures are getting more and more surprising!¡± After a pause, he asked, ¡°Need drivers too?¡± Lance cleared his throat. ¡°Are they trustworthy?¡± Alberto puffed out his chest. ¡°Of course! You¡¯ve met them before¡ªthe Howard brothers.¡± Lance immediately remembered. ¡°Oh, the brothers whose dad had a few too many drinks while filling out their birth certificates!¡± Alberto burst into laughter. ¡°You heard about that too?¡± After sharing the story, Alberto assured Lance. ¡°Their dad might be an idiot, but those two are excellent drivers. You can count on them.¡± ¡°When do you need them and the trucks?¡± ¡°In the next few days.¡± Alberto grew curious. ¡°Mind telling me what you¡¯re planning? If not, no worries¡ªI¡¯m just curious.¡± Lance saw no need for secrecy since the Howard brothers would find out anyway. ¡°I¡¯m planning to grab some liquor.¡± ¡°Liquor?¡± Alberto¡¯s interest piqued. ¡°You¡¯re stocking up too?¡± ¡°You could say that.¡± Realizing what Lance meant, Alberto leaned in. ¡°Planning to keep it or sell it quickly? If you¡¯re selling, I¡¯ll offer you a fair price.¡± Lance shook his head. ¡°The price of alcohol is climbing fast. I¡¯ve got a hunch that Prohibition is just one headline away.¡± Alberto was impressed by Lance¡¯s foresight and shared a tidbit. ¡°The governor is expected to announce his support for the Prohibition League later this month.¡± ¡°Take a stroll through any bar, and you¡¯ll notice many only sell alcohol to regulars. They¡¯re already tightening their supply.¡± ¡°Big money¡¯s coming, Lance! A bottle costing 70 or 80 cents now sells for nearly two dollars. After Prohibition, profits could soar by 200% or more. It¡¯s better than loan sharking!¡± Jingang City, with its bustling trade and entertainment scene, was a prime market for alcohol. But as its sale became restricted, prices would only rise. Alberto himself had already allocated half his funds to stockpile spirits. That evening, Lance and Elvin scoped out Hiram¡¯s workplace. The setup was just as Hiram had described. Though it was hard to see inside the warehouse, Lance spotted two overseers sitting by the entrance. They were yelling and cursing at Hiram and his colleagues, their arrogance evident. Lance also saw the ¡°watchdog.¡± The man¡¯s legs were deformed, twisted outward from being broken and left untreated. As an illegal immigrant, he couldn¡¯t access medical care without money or legal status. He had survived, but at great cost¡ªa deformed leg and a broken spirit. The man lay curled up outside the guard post, ignoring passersby. He alternated between sleeping and staring blankly into space. Later that night, Elvin changed into Hiram¡¯s work clothes and blended in with the crew. He stayed unnoticed all night, thanks partly to the darkness and partly to the overseers¡¯ arrogance. At dawn, he slipped out and reported back. ¡°After dinner, they lock the warehouse doors. The keys are with them. If we want the liquor, we¡¯ll need those keys.¡± ¡°The small house isn¡¯t soundproof, either. They¡¯ll hear us moving anything.¡± ¡°How much liquor is there?¡± Lance asked. ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡ªmaybe 20,000 to 30,000 bottles?¡± Elvin handed Lance some torn labels he had sneaked out. The intricate designs suggested the liquor wasn¡¯t cheap. Chapter 80: Congratulations on Getting Rich Chapter 80: Congratulations on Getting Rich S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.The dimly lit bar was filled with an ambiguous glow, occasionally casting light on people''s faces. A few patrons seated at the counter glanced toward the small balcony-like private table on the second floor. "Has Jason struck it rich recently?" One of the patrons at the bar asked softly. Business at the bar wasn¡¯t particularly good during the day, though there were always a few customers. For drunks, drinking wasn¡¯t bound by day or night¡ªthey only cared whether the alcohol was making its way into their veins. There had been numerous incidents in the Federation of people drinking medical-grade alcohol or even injecting it directly into their veins. Despite the government repeatedly warning people not to pull this kind of stunt, some individuals, driven by sudden inspiration, still tried it. These folks were hardcore drunks, and they didn¡¯t spend much. Each visit usually amounted to about ten cents¡ªa large mug of beer with half an ounce of whiskey added in. After ensuring the quantity was sufficient, the alcohol content wasn¡¯t too low either, giving them just enough of a buzz. Of course, they wanted to drink spirits, but they couldn¡¯t afford to. The bartender shook his head slightly. "No idea, but judging by his spending today, he definitely has some money." Someone who knew Jason waved his dusty, gray newsboy cap. "Hey, Jason! Over here! Treat us to a drink, won¡¯t you?" Jason, currently engrossed in the performance of a stripper, glanced toward the bar downstairs. These were his usual buddies. "Of course... give each of them a Napper whiskey on me!" The bartender deftly grabbed the bottle of Napper whiskey and lined up three glasses. Each glass contained about two ounces of whiskey¡ªnot precisely measured to the gram but roughly estimated from years of experience. Each glass of Napper whiskey cost 29 cents. A single bottle could yield about 11 servings. Technically, it could pour 12 glasses as labeled, but occasionally the pours were a bit generous. Drunks weren¡¯t fools¡ªthey could tell if they were being shorted. These cheap drunks loved a bargain. They were the kind who would line up at 5 AM for a free piece of fried chicken from a promotion, considering it a great win by the time they snagged a bite at noon. In reality, if they spent that morning doing odd jobs, they¡¯d earn far more than the cost of a chicken leg. But they didn¡¯t think that way, which was why they remained where they were. Pouring slightly more than necessary helped build loyalty to the bar. The owner and the bartender weren¡¯t stupid. As the rich aroma of Napper whiskey wafted into the air, the drunks began salivating. The newsboy cap-wearer raised his glass high. "To our generous Lord Jason!" "To Jason!" Jason laughed heartily and raised his glass. "Another round for them!" After taking a sip of his drink, Jason turned his attention back to the stripper before him. In Jingang City, the law prohibited soliciting services, but almost no one followed it. A bustling port city thrived on such activities to maintain its vibrancy. The woman dancing before Jason had been hired for a private performance for 10 dollars. Watching her strip away each piece of clothing and teasing with enticing movements, Jason was already flush with excitement. The five dollars in change he¡¯d received earlier had already been tossed onto the small stage. The woman didn¡¯t pick it up; instead, her movements became even more seductive. ?????¦¥???? For her, five dollars was significant. A casual "job" might only earn her the same amount. But here, she was merely dancing, earning it with far less effort. Naturally, she worked harder to keep Jason entertained. Jason unbuttoned his pants and beckoned her. "Come here. Ride me." The dancer shook her head, the gesture itself seductive. "Not here..." She didn¡¯t outright refuse but hinted that it wasn¡¯t allowed in the bar. Outside, across the street on the second floor, there were private rooms available. Jason swallowed hard, his voice rasping. "How much for you to come with me?" "Ten dollars." Of that, three dollars would go to the bar owner, one to the bartender, and one to the security guard. She would keep the remaining five. Jason, restraining himself, finished his drink in one gulp. "I¡¯ll wait for you across the street." The dancer gave him a knowing look before provocatively kneeling on the small stage to collect the money. The angle, illuminated by a pink spotlight, left Jason nearly trembling. Unable to handle it any longer, Jason quickly descended the stairs. The bartender greeted him. "Jason, I didn¡¯t know you were always this quick. Is it a habit?" The drunks around them burst into laughter. Jason playfully cursed, "I have some business to take care of. You know how it is." The bartender was thrilled. It had been a lucrative day; another dollar had been added to his income. "So, here to settle up?" "Yeah. How much?" The bartender tallied up the bill: seven drinks, one beef burger... "12 dollars and 53 cents. Let¡¯s make it 12 even." Jason handed over 20 dollars and waited for his change. "You struck it rich, didn¡¯t you?" The bartender prodded as he counted out the change. Jason smiled without responding, piquing the curiosity of the others. One of his drinking buddies chimed in. "Last month, I thought you¡¯d skipped town¡ªyou disappeared. Were you off making money during that time?" "If you have a good opportunity, bring me along next time. I¡¯ll give you half my earnings, guaranteed." Jason pocketed the change. "It¡¯s not that easy to get rich. If it were, everyone would be millionaires. But if I get the chance, I¡¯ll think of you first." As Jason left, his buddies¡¯ expressions grew less enthusiastic. Someone even spat on the ground. "Rich bastard..." Outside, the scorching sun and salty ocean breeze sobered Jason up slightly. He stood dazed, lost in thought, when suddenly a car screeched to a halt in front of him. A quick glance at the occupants¡ªHiram, Loren, and Morris driving¡ªcaused Jason to freeze for a second before bolting. Hiram and Loren immediately gave chase while Morris revved the engine, steering the old car toward Jason. The vehicle¡¯s slow acceleration allowed Jason to duck into an alley, but once the car gained speed, it became a real threat. Heart pounding and legs burning from exertion, Jason eventually found himself cornered against a high wall. Panting heavily, he pleaded, "Hiram, Loren, let me go just this once. I¡¯ll split the money with you!" Hiram strode forward and landed a heavy punch on Jason¡¯s face. "You son of a bh! Do you think this is about the money?" Loren joined in, and the two beat Jason senseless before binding his hands and feet. Minutes later, Morris arrived with the car. Hiram dragged Jason to the alley entrance, ignoring his muffled screams after silencing him with a few hits to the mouth. Back in the bar, the dancer waited patiently in a room upstairs. Although Jason hadn¡¯t shown up yet, she believed he wouldn¡¯t stand her up. To secure this deal as a recurring arrangement, she had dressed herself like a little gift, ready to surprise Jason. Chapter 81: The Tailor, the Union, and Three Questions Chapter 81: The Tailor, the Union, and Three Questions"Mr. Lance, your physique is remarkable. I assure you the clothes I tailor will look splendid!" An elderly tailor from the Empire was taking Lance''s measurements. With more money at hand this time, Lance had decided to order two sets of outfits for everyone. The weather was cooling down, and the recent rains brought a sharp sense of autumn''s chill that lingered for a day after each downpour. Additionally, unified attire would foster "corporate culture"¡ªa strategy well-proven by capitalists, who demonstrated that indoctrination didn¡¯t always require lectures. The old tailor was also from the Empire. His neighbor had immigrated to the Federation earlier, boasting of earning over a hundred dollars a month. When returning to the Empire, the neighbor exaggeratedly claimed, "In the Federation, you can find money just by lowering your head!" He painted the Federation as a land overflowing with opportunity and wealth, where even fools could achieve the Federation Dream as long as they were willing to work. Some believed him, others doubted. The old tailor belonged to the former group. Having known his neighbor for over 30 years, he trusted the man wouldn¡¯t lie to him. Despite his family''s objections and the deteriorating situation in the Empire, he sold everything and moved to the Federation with his family. What greeted him was far from the golden land described. He even struggled to find food. The neighbor who claimed to earn over a hundred dollars a month? He worked as a dishwasher at a restaurant, earning 22 dollars a month with a free lunch. Take it or leave it. Now estranged from the Empire, the tailor lived with his daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren in a dilapidated house. The only saving grace was his tailoring skills, which allowed him to eke out a living by making clothes at very low prices. This earned him a small but steady clientele. Initially, Elvin had suggested hiring a local tailor, but Lance refused. Federation tailors had a tendency to incorporate their unique laziness and casualness into their designs, resulting in baggy, unkempt-looking clothing. Imperial tailors, on the other hand, excelled at crafting sharp, fitted attire that conveyed a sleek and polished image. "I heard you used to tailor for nobles in the Empire?" Lance asked as the tailor, wearing bifocals, stood on a small stool to measure his shoulder width. The old tailor paused briefly before smiling. "Yes, a minor noble. How did you hear about that?" "I¡¯ve heard a little here and there. I¡¯m curious¡ªwhy haven¡¯t you opened your own shop?" sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Even though Federation citizens look down on us, they admire anything associated with nobility. If you marketed yourself as having tailored for the Imperial nobility, the Federation¡¯s elite would flock to you." Supported by his son-in-law as he stepped down from the stool, the tailor jotted down Lance''s measurements and said, "You need money to do anything. I¡¯ve been here for a while, and life here is terrible. ¡°Thanks to you and your friends, we can eat this month, but next month we¡¯ll be struggling again. I can¡¯t even afford to leave the Imperial District, let alone advertise my history of serving nobles." Lance nodded slightly. "If your work is truly good, I¡¯m willing to sponsor you." The old tailor froze, hope flickering in his cloudy eyes. "Are you serious? You¡¯ll fund me to open a tailor shop?" "In the city center," Lance confirmed, putting his coat back on. "Of course, the condition is that you do an excellent job on our clothes. This isn¡¯t a small sum, after all." The tailor and his son-in-law were overcome with gratitude, tearfully thanking Lance for his generosity. Back in the Empire, they had been middle-class. But here, they couldn¡¯t even find enough food, let alone the wealth they¡¯d imagined. For a no-name tailor in the Federation, there was little demand for bespoke clothing. The poor bought cheap secondhand clothes, which, though ill-fitting, were affordable. The tailor¡¯s monthly earnings barely reached ten dollars, and recent tensions between natives and illegal immigrants had left his son-in-law jobless. Lance¡¯s business was a lifeline, in every sense. And now, the possibility of opening a tailor shop filled them with hope. The old tailor¡¯s eyes reddened. "You are a kind and noble man, Mr. Lance. May the Lord bless you!" "I hope the Lord doesn¡¯t overexert himself on my account," Lance joked, seeing their bewildered expressions. He chuckled, shook the tailor¡¯s hand, and added, "Thirty-seven people¡ªtwo suits and two coats each, all with sharp collars. Do your best, and we¡¯ll have many opportunities to collaborate in the future." ?§¡???¨§S He gestured at the eager crowd behind him, signaling them to queue up in an orderly manner. For both Federation citizens and Imperial immigrants, new clothes were a source of excitement. Since the tailor only had his son-in-law to assist, the measurements took some time. But being invited by Lance to the company meant they didn¡¯t need to worry about their pace. Lance and Elvin moved aside and sat down. Elvin broke the silence. "I¡¯ve heard something troubling." Lance glanced at him. "What is it?" "The union isn¡¯t happy with our large-scale use of leased work cards. They think we¡¯re disrupting the labor market." In the Federation, unions weren¡¯t something to be trifled with. Workers often registered with unions for protection against exploitation and unfair treatment. At this time, unions were powerful, ethical, and united¡ªfar from the arrogant and corrupt institutions they would later become. The slogan "Workers Unite!" originated here in the Federation. If the union believed Lance¡¯s actions disrupted the labor market, it could be a major blow to the thriving agency business. After a moment of thought, Lance asked, "How many work cards do we have now?" The agency¡¯s manager, Shawn, hurried over. "Mr. Lance, as of today, we¡¯ve registered over 3,000 work cards¡ª3,132, to be exact." Shawn, a studious young man from the Empire, wore round, narrow-rimmed glasses. Back in the Empire, he had been admitted to university but couldn¡¯t afford to attend, so he returned to his hometown to teach. When war broke out, his family sent him to the Federation to avoid conscription. He wasn¡¯t cut out for violence, having spent his life immersed in books. Lance had temporarily assigned him to manage the agency, with plans for his future. "That¡¯s a big number!" Lance acknowledged Shawn¡¯s efforts before turning to Elvin. "Find out who¡¯s complaining and arrange a meeting for me. I¡¯ll handle it." Then, looking at Shawn, Lance said, "Our growth will be rapid. We need a reliable lawyer. I plan to send you to college to study law." Shawn was stunned but elated. Lawyers were respected and influential in both the Federation and the Empire. "Mr. Lance, I don¡¯t know how to thank you! I¡¯ll become a great lawyer!" Lance clapped him on the shoulder. "Don¡¯t neglect your current work until I find a replacement." At that moment, Hiram knocked on the back door. Lance stood up, nodded to Shawn, and left with Elvin. In the small courtyard, a car was parked in the center. Loren leaned against it, smoking, while the warehouse door stood ajar. Lance entered the dimly lit warehouse, his eyes adjusting. Inside, Jason hung suspended, his face bloodied. Several teeth were missing, courtesy of Hiram¡¯s relentless punches. Seeing Lance, Jason began to plead, "Mr. Lance, I was wrong! I¡¯ll give you all the money and disappear from Jingang City forever!" Lance lit a cigarette, with Hiram striking a match to assist him. Elvin, holding his own matchbox, froze, then chuckled and playfully punched Hiram¡¯s shoulder. Scratching his brow, Lance said, "You still don¡¯t understand your mistake, Jason. Your regret stems only from being caught¡ªnot from what you did wrong. "If you truly knew your error, you wouldn¡¯t be saying meaningless things to me now." "Now, three questions: "First, where¡¯s the rest of the money hidden? "Second, how many people know you suddenly came into money? "Third, did you tell anyone how you earned it?" "Answer these, and then we¡¯ll consider your problem." Chapter 82: The Answers, Hide and Seek, and Protecting the Familys Interests Chapter 82: The Answers, Hide and Seek, and Protecting the Family''s Interests Lance looked at the bloodied and disheveled Jason, shaking his head slightly before glancing at Hiram. "Get some water." Turning back to Jason, Lance said coldly, "Before you give me your answers, think carefully. Consider whether lying to me is worth it¡ªand what will happen to you if I find out you''re lying." There was a faucet right outside the door. In the Federation, where the water was famously sweet and drinkable straight from the tap, it was hard to resist its availability. After letting Jason drink a little water, Lance wet a handkerchief and wiped the blood off Jason''s face, making him look marginally better. "Now, you can tell me," Lance said, moving aside to unfold a chair and sit down. "First question: where is the money hidden?" In truth, Lance already knew where the money was. Loren had seen everything. But Lance asked anyway, wanting to test if Jason harbored any last shred of deceit. He also wanted to reinforce the impression that he knew everything. It wasn¡¯t a small sum¡ªover $4,000. But now, faced with the possibility of death or serious injury, the money seemed far less significant. "In the Imperial District, on 17th Street¡ª" Before Jason could finish, Lance interrupted him. With a faint, cryptic smile, he said, "Behind the dumpster at the back of the building on 22nd Street. Do I need to continue?" "I know everything. I just want to see if you¡¯ll lie to me." Jason froze, his expression shifting to one of panic. The building at 22nd Street was a row of apartment houses, with an alley and several dumpsters at the back. Jason had previously rented a room there with others. While throwing out trash, he had discovered a loose brick behind one of the dumpsters. Breaking the brick partially and slotting it back created a small hidden compartment¡ªabout 10 centimeters wide, 5 centimeters tall, and 10 centimeters deep. Unless someone specifically checked, it was almost impossible to notice. And even then, the dumpster outside provided extra concealment. He had used the spot to hide important items, mostly money, and nothing had ever gone wrong¡ªuntil now. For Lance to call out the exact location so easily made Jason realize he must have been watched. It completely killed any thoughts of lying. "Yes, yes! The money is there!" Lance nodded noncommittally. "Second question: how many people know you suddenly came into money?" Jason began sweating profusely. The salt from his sweat stung his wounds, and combined with the stifling heat, his discomfort only worsened. He looked at Lance with pleading eyes. "I don¡¯t know. After hiding the money, I took $50 and left. I bought a 50-cent pack of cigarettes and then..." ?¨¢??????¨§???? He struggled to recall, wincing from the pain. "¡­then I went to the bar. I wanted to have a drink because I was feeling anxious after what we¡¯d just done. I needed to relax. "At the bar, the man exchanging change, the security guard, the bartender, my three friends, and the stripper¡ªall of them probably realized I had money. And maybe a few other customers noticed, too." Jason¡¯s voice cracked. "I made a stupid mistake, Mr. Lance. I treated my friends to two rounds of drinks and rented a private stage upstairs." Hearing this, Elvin nearly rushed forward to punch Jason but stopped when Lance raised a hand. "In other words," Lance said calmly, "at least a dozen or more people might know you have money." Most customers at strip clubs didn¡¯t splurge on private stages because it was far too expensive. The main floor offered free views of the dancers performing on a circular stage. They would gravitate toward areas where the most money was being tipped. This system was an effective way to drive spending. If someone wanted better views or exclusive attention, they had to tip more. The more they tipped, the more focus they received, including occasional personal interactions, while others settled for side or rear views. The presence of competitors often sparked bidding wars among intoxicated patrons eager to outdo each other. Some would escalate from tipping one dollar to two, and so on, until they had spent exorbitantly just to have the dancer¡¯s full attention. Jason, feeling light as a feather with money in his pocket, didn¡¯t want to share the experience. He went straight upstairs, where the starting cost for a private stage was $10, not including tips. Lance shook his head slightly and asked, "Third question: did you tell anyone how you got the money?" Jason understood the gravity of this question. Fearful, he replied, "No, Mr. Lance. I swear to you, I didn¡¯t tell anyone how I got it. I swear on my mother¡¯s life¡ªI haven¡¯t said a single word!" Seeing Jason¡¯s twisted face, contorted by fear and pain, Lance chose to believe him for now. He stood and exited the warehouse, followed by Elvin and Hiram. "Loren," Lance called, and Loren immediately approached. "Go retrieve the money. Then, go to the tailor and get your measurements taken. New clothes will be ready by the end of the month." Loren grinned broadly. "Got it, boss! I¡¯m on it!" As Morris drove off with Loren, Elvin asked, "What should we do with him?" Hiram remained silent, standing by. After a pause, Lance said, "Go to Mr. Coty and get some oil drums and cement. "It¡¯s about time we visited Angel Lake. I hear it¡¯s quite the scenic spot." Elvin nodded and left in another car. Lance turned to Hiram. "I¡¯ve decided to execute him." Hiram, unsurprised, nodded. "Although we¡¯ve known each other for a while, he did something unforgivable. This is the consequence he deserves." Lance was pleased with Hiram¡¯s understanding. Jason and Hiram had been part of the same circle, and while personal ties existed, Hiram respected Lance¡¯s authority. Lance believed in earning respect by respecting others, recalling a former acquaintance who abused his subordinates and often boasted, "They wouldn¡¯t dare betray me." That man was eventually found stuffed in an abandoned well, decomposing inside a suitcase. His death was orchestrated by his subordinates, who had grown tired of his tyranny. Turning back to Hiram, Lance asked, "What about the other one? Are your men still watching him?" "They¡¯re keeping close watch. If anything goes wrong, let me take care of it," Hiram offered. This time, Lance didn¡¯t refuse. "Let¡¯s hope it doesn¡¯t come to that. None of us wants more trouble." By 5:30 PM, the agency closed early. All 37 employees, without exception, were gathered¡ªyoung men and women, the eldest being Mello at just 23 years old. When Lance arrived, the group stood and greeted him. Raising his hand to quiet them, Lance walked to the front. "I called you all here today for two reasons," he began. "First, we¡¯ve been together for two months now. After enduring so much darkness, we¡¯re finally seeing the light of dawn. I want to reward you all. "Today, I¡¯ve arranged for new clothes to be made¡ªjust part of our preparation for a new chapter in our lives. "Tomorrow, we¡¯ll go camping at Angel Lake. Ethan has already started preparing the food: 50 pounds of beef, plus steaks, lamb chops, fruits, and vegetables. I promise everyone will eat their fill!" The announcement sparked cheers and whistles, as smiles spread across the young faces. Elvin stomped the ground, quieting the group enough for Lance to continue. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Second," Lance¡¯s tone turned somber. "Something terrible happened today. "I need you all to understand: we are not safe. "Our status as illegal immigrants, the loans, and the union¡¯s growing resentment toward our agency¡ªall of these are threats. "Any one of these issues could strip us of everything we have and send us back to living in tunnels, starving, freezing, and being bullied. Or worse, killed. "Today, someone tried to push us to that edge¡ªto destroy everything we¡¯ve built. "I cannot and will not forgive that. "We are a family, and I will do whatever it takes to protect you all, even if it means going to hell myself. "And that brings me to the second reason I gathered you here today. "Tonight, I will execute the one who tried to destroy us." Chapter 83: Family and Relatives Chapter 83: Family and Relatives The smiles faded from the faces of the young crowd, replaced by a mix of complex emotions. Some eyes burned with fury, others showed traces of pity, while many simply brimmed with curiosity. Everyone had different levels of involvement in the events leading up to this, shaping their stance, perspective, and thoughts about the impending execution. Hiram stepped forward. "This is my fault. I need to apologize to everyone." This time, Lance allowed him to speak uninterrupted. Hiram explained the situation for those who weren¡¯t entirely aware. As illegal immigrants, they had been hired for work but were refused wages and told to get lost under threat. Lance had intervened by calling the manager on their behalf. However, the manager not only refused to negotiate but hurled insults over the phone. This led Lance to teach them a lesson. The group decided to empty the warehouse of its liquor stock, which was successfully carried out. But one of their own, unwilling to stay loyal, took the money and ran. Hearing this, even those initially skeptical about "executing someone for a mistake" began to lean toward Lance¡¯s side. They realized the severity of the situation and the necessity of upholding order within their group. Moreover, when they learned that Lance had paid everyone according to their agreed wages, and Elvin had deposited the surplus funds into the company account, the sentiment of ¡°we are all beneficiaries, and our interests are at stake¡± started to take hold. It fostered a sense of unity. They began to view themselves as one with Lance¡ªa family. Jason¡¯s actions, taking the money and running, completely extinguished any lingering doubts among the group. Lance was a man of his word, and that was enough for them. The matter¡¯s gravity became clearer when they considered the consequences if someone investigated Jason. Should Jason be caught and spill everything, it wouldn¡¯t just be him¡ªit would doom them all. By this point, there were no dissenting opinions. Elvin had already returned with the oil drums. Alberto, who provided the materials, hadn¡¯t asked any questions. Oil drums in Jingang City were known for two primary uses: storing gasoline or "disappearing" bodies in Angel Lake. Rumor had it that manufacturers were now coating the drums with waterproof paint, ensuring they would last longer submerged in the corrosive waters near the coast. When Lance led the group into the warehouse, Jason, who had been dozing off, jolted awake at the sight of so many people. Panic swept over him as he realized what was happening. "Mr. Lance, please, spare me! I don¡¯t want to die!" Jason pleaded desperately. "I haven¡¯t done anything to harm you. No one knows you¡¯re behind this. If you let me go, no one will ever find out!" "I¡¯m young. I have parents to support. I have so many things left to do. Lance, I beg you¡ªplease, let me go!" But Lance remained unmoved, and the cold, unyielding gazes of the others bore down on Jason. The pressure of impending death overwhelmed him, and he began to realize begging wouldn¡¯t save him. After a brief silence, he lashed out. Though bound, he flailed his legs like a clown. "You son of a bh! Who the hell are you to decide if I live or die?" Jason roared. "You¡¯re no judge! You¡¯re just a thief, the same as me! "Kill me today, but tomorrow someone else will kill you! We¡¯re no different, Lance! I swear, you¡¯ll die a worse death than me! You¡¯ll rot in hell!" Hiram leaned in to whisper to Lance, who nodded in approval. With Lance¡¯s consent, Hiram gagged Jason with a strip of cloth and a rag, silencing his tirade. Jason, realizing he had no options left, hung limply in resignation. Elvin spread a rain tarp over the floor to prevent blood splatter and stepped aside. Lance took a pistol and walked toward Jason. "Jason, I¡¯ll ensure your money is sent to your family in installments. They¡¯ll think you lived well here in the Federation." ????B?? "As for your prediction of my death," Lance continued calmly, "I won¡¯t deny it. "Everyone dies, Jason. But what matters is whether their death has meaning. "To die chasing a dream or protecting your family¡ªthose deaths have meaning. "One day, people will talk about me and say, ¡®There was a Lance in Jingang City. He did great things.¡¯ "Even if I¡¯m just a fleeting meteor in the night sky, I¡¯ll have illuminated this era for a moment!" The young people behind Lance, hearing his composed words, felt their blood boil with inspiration. Lance raised the pistol and aimed at Jason¡¯s forehead. Jason, who had been swearing just moments before, went slack with fear. His bladder gave way, and urine dripped to the floor. "Die like a man and leave us with a better impression," Lance said. "And next time, learn to follow the rules." But Jason couldn¡¯t muster any courage. Lance shook his head and pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced Jason¡¯s skull, splattering blood. Two of the women in the group screamed, though they quickly stifled their cries. Elvin took the gun from Lance, emotionless, and fired a shot into Jason¡¯s chest. Then Ethan, Morris, Ennio, Mello, and even the two women followed suit, each firing a shot into Jason¡¯s lifeless body. When it was over, Jason¡¯s corpse was riddled with bullets. Lance exhaled heavily. "We¡¯re family. I¡¯ll fight anyone to protect you." ... "I think we should pour in some cement first," Lance said, watching them prepare to stuff Jason¡¯s body into the drum. "Otherwise, if he¡¯s crushed at the bottom and the drum breaks, some parts might float up." Elvin, wearing a raincoat, paused and nodded. "You¡¯re right. Ethan, pour in some cement first." Lance placed wooden planks at the bottom of the drum to prevent Jason¡¯s body from sinking too low. Ethan then wheeled over a cart and poured in some cement. Once it settled, they dropped Jason¡¯s body into the drum and filled it with more cement. With the heat of summer, the outer layer would harden by morning. The drum¡¯s sturdy, airtight lid, made of rubber and multiple mechanical clamps, would ensure a perfect seal. Lance instructed them to hold off sealing it until morning. That night, the mood was heavy. For many, the experience had been shocking. Sensing the somber atmosphere, Lance decided to lift their spirits. "We¡¯ve been talking a lot about the company account. Some of you may not fully understand what it¡¯s for, so let me explain." "For example, the new clothes we¡¯re getting¡ªthose are covered by the company account. This will become a tradition. "Every year, there will be three spring/summer outfits, two fall/winter outfits, and one winter coat. "I also plan to buy more housing. As our numbers grow, we can¡¯t keep living in living rooms and hallways¡ªespecially with women among us. "Whether it¡¯s renting or buying, the company account will cover these expenses. You won¡¯t have to pay for anything. "If any of you get hurt, your medical expenses will also come from the account." "Some of you may think it¡¯s unfair¡ªwhy should those fighting on the front lines share their benefits with those behind the scenes? "But we¡¯re a family. Just as you wouldn¡¯t begrudge your parents for giving more to your siblings, you shouldn¡¯t resent your comrades. "While we may not share blood, our hearts beat as one." The next morning, the cement had hardened enough to seal the drum. After locking the lid, they loaded it onto a cart. By the time they arrived at Angel Lake, the group¡¯s mood had lightened. The scenic beauty was breathtaking¡ªa vibrant forest surrounding a tranquil, sapphire-blue lake that seemed to merge with the sky. As the drum, filled with Jason and their shared resolve, was pushed into the lake, Lance quipped, "The experts won¡¯t realize it, but we¡¯ve contributed to this year¡¯s rising lake levels." It was a hellish joke that only Jason could fully appreciate. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Afterward, the group moved on to camping and barbecuing, enjoying generous servings of grilled meat. The boys stripped off their shirts to swim in the lake, while the girls, donning swimsuits, rejoined the lively mood. Sitting on a small hill, Lance watched the shimmering lake reflect the sunlight and the laughter of his companions. By evening, they packed up and left, taking everything with them¡ªexcept their troubles, which they left behind, sinking deep into the lake alongside Jason. Chapter 84: Misfortunes Come in Waves Chapter 84: Misfortunes Come in Waves Golden Diamond Law Firm was one of the top firms in Jingang City. Whether it was the best in the Federation was unclear, but they certainly claimed to be. Johnny had put on a more decent outfit today, though sitting in a wheelchair gave him a slightly awkward appearance. Still, at least he didn¡¯t look out of place. His daughter pushed him into the opulent offices of the Golden Diamond Law Firm, where a blonde woman greeted them. Dressed in a professional yet striking suit, her crisp white blouse and open neckline created an impression of both competence and allure. Her sweet face had a calming effect, especially on the gentlemen who walked through the doors. "Welcome to Golden Diamond Law Firm, sir. How may we assist you today?" "If you have an appointment, I can check for you," she added with a polite smile. Johnny, overwhelmed by the luxurious decor and rich materials, felt uneasy. "I... I¡¯m looking for a lawyer to consult about a tax issue. I don¡¯t have an appointment." The receptionist flipped through the appointment book. "Mr. Gus is available right now. He¡¯s one of the top tax attorneys in Jingang City, with a win rate of over 95%. "I highly recommend him. If you¡¯d prefer someone else, I can arrange that, but they¡¯re all currently unavailable." Impressed by her description, Johnny didn¡¯t deliberate further. "Let¡¯s go with Mr. Gus. Can I ask how much he charges for consultations?" "Sixty dollars an hour, sir." The receptionist maintained her professional demeanor, showing no sign of judgment despite their modest attire. To her, even if they didn¡¯t look wealthy, anyone who walked into the firm was likely worth at least an hour of consultation fees. "Sixty dollars! That¡¯s outrageous¡ªit¡¯s so much cheaper over there!" Johnny¡¯s overweight daughter whispered in his ear. Over there? The mention stung Johnny. That other lawyer had advised him not to hire legal counsel, causing him to embarrass himself in court and lose out on additional compensation he might have deserved. Johnny shot her a glare before forcing a smile at the receptionist. "Mr. Gus it is. Can I see him now?" After noting his appointment, the receptionist picked up the phone. "Mr. Gus, I have a client here with some tax-related inquiries... Yes, I¡¯ll bring them over." Hanging up, she gestured for them to follow. "Right this way." Mr. Gus¡¯s office was situated farther into the building. Tax cases, while important, weren¡¯t the most glamorous or lucrative for law firms, compared to divorce or business litigation. After a short walk, they arrived at his door. The receptionist knocked, and a voice inside invited them in. She opened the door with a smile and ushered them in. "Bring me and my clients three coffees, please," said Mr. Gus. He was the picture of a Federation middle-class professional: slicked-back hair, a clean-shaven jawline with a faint five o¡¯clock shadow, and razor-sharp sideburns. He wore a light-colored suit paired with a striped blue-and-purple tie and the firm¡¯s emblem pinned to his chest. ????????¨§???? "Please..." he began, then paused, noticing Johnny already seated. With a small, apologetic smile, he added, "I didn¡¯t realize. My apologies." Johnny waved it off impatiently. He wanted to get straight to business. Once seated, with coffee on the table, Mr. Gus picked up a pen and a pad of stapled paper. "Mr. Johnny, what would you like to discuss?" Johnny hesitated before saying, "They¡¯re telling me the tax office has filed a case against me for tax evasion." Mr. Gus raised an eyebrow, his initial note-taking posture shifting as he leaned back in surprise. Setting the pen aside, he asked, "Tax evasion is a serious charge. First, let me assure you that I am both professional and discreet. Nothing discussed here will leave this room. "Now, I have to ask¡ªdid you evade taxes?" Johnny shook his head vigorously, his voice rising slightly. "I never evaded taxes!" Mr. Gus raised a calming hand. "You don¡¯t need to shout; I can hear you just fine. Let me ask this instead: have you been filing taxes?" "Yes, I¡¯ve been filing my business taxes." "May I ask if you¡¯re an operator or a shareholder?" "I¡¯m the operator. I run a bakery." "Well," Mr. Gus said with a faint smile, "your business must be doing well to have caught the tax office¡¯s attention. At least you¡¯re not running at a loss." Johnny didn¡¯t deny it. "It¡¯s true." "Can you walk me through how you calculate your monthly income and file your taxes?" Johnny glanced at his daughter before explaining, "Both my daughter and I work at the bakery. We each take a salary of fifty dollars a month. The bakery¡¯s profits are usually around a hundred dollars monthly." Mr. Gus immediately honed in on the issue. "So, your tax filings only report your operational profits, ignoring the salaries paid to yourself and your daughter?" For decades, the Federation¡¯s tax laws had been a convoluted mess, with policies fluctuating depending on which president was in office. Some even promised "no personal income tax" as a campaign pledge. While recent amendments to the tax code had clarified that individuals earning less than $100 a month didn¡¯t need to file taxes, businesses were required to report all revenue and expenses, regardless of profit. Johnny¡¯s omission of personal salaries from his filings, while not intentional, constituted tax evasion under current law. "I¡¯m not an accountant," Johnny admitted defensively. "I didn¡¯t know I was supposed to do that. I just paid taxes on what I thought was right!" "Did you and your daughter sign employment contracts specifying her salary?" Mr. Gus asked. "No, who does that?" Johnny replied indignantly. "But I swear, I pay her fifty dollars every month!" His daughter chimed in hastily, "It¡¯s true! My father gives me fifty dollars every month!" Mr. Gus didn¡¯t bother taking notes. "Unfortunately, the tax office, the court, and the judge won¡¯t believe you without documentation. They could argue that the money you gave your daughter was a gift. "Have you even registered your business? For example, something like ¡®Johnny¡¯s Bakery¡¯?" "No, I haven¡¯t." Mr. Gus sighed. "By state law, individual operators are required to file taxes combining their operational income and personal income. By only reporting your business income and ignoring your salaries, you¡¯ve effectively underreported your earnings." He paused before delivering the grim news. "The outcome of this case seems clear-cut to me." Johnny¡¯s face turned red. "No one ever told me any of this!" Mr. Gus wasn¡¯t interested in whether Johnny had been informed. "If the tax office is taking you to court, they likely already have strong evidence. "If you want to hire a lawyer, do it quickly," he advised, cutting off Johnny¡¯s hopeful look with a firm shake of his head. "I won¡¯t take this case. "First, I primarily handle corporate cases, not individual ones. Second, I don¡¯t take on losing cases. However, I can recommend someone." sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Johnny felt crushed. Seeing his despair, Mr. Gus added, "The lawyer I¡¯m recommending is an intern here. "He can help you argue that your actions were unintentional and try to reduce your charges from tax evasion to tax oversight. That will result in lighter penalties." "He¡¯s affordable too¡ªhis fee won¡¯t exceed two hundred dollars." For the intern, this would be a valuable learning opportunity, providing hands-on experience with the tax office¡¯s legal team¡ªa rare chance for growth. Johnny, however, was nearing financial ruin. His bank accounts had been frozen at the tax office¡¯s request, citing that the funds might belong to the Federation. Lately, his life had been a downward spiral of misfortune, and today was no different. Everything was falling apart. Chapter 85: Forget the Source of Light; It’s Still Light Chapter 85: Forget the Source of Light; It¡¯s Still Light As Johnny exited Golden Diamond Law Firm, the city¡¯s bright sunshine contrasted sharply with the darkness engulfing his world. He was utterly dejected. After paying the $260 consultation fee, he had less than $150 in cash left, and all his bank accounts were frozen. Worse yet, according to Mr. Gus, even the best-case outcome¡ªwhere the court believed Johnny¡¯s failure to report taxes was due to ignorance rather than intent¡ªwould still result in a hefty fine. This wasn¡¯t unique to him. Anyone in court for such issues faced the same outcome. His bakery had been operating for years, and the tax office could penalize him for up to 10 or even 20 years of underreported taxes. To prepare for what lay ahead, Johnny would need at least $3,000. When he asked Mr. Gus what would happen if he couldn¡¯t pay, the lawyer had been diplomatic but clear: misfortune awaited, including the loss of his freedom. The sun couldn¡¯t pierce the storm cloud over Johnny¡¯s heart, nor could its warmth reach his freezing body. He wanted to escape, but there was nowhere to go. ¡°We¡¯re out of money,¡± his overweight daughter muttered softly. She had no savings. Johnny gave her $50 every month, but she often spent it all¡ªand sometimes even pilfered from the bakery¡¯s earnings. A couple of dollars here and there went unnoticed by Johnny, and it kept her boyfriend around despite her less-than-desirable appearance. Now, however, the situation wasn¡¯t about a few missing dollars. They were staring down a gaping financial abyss of several thousand dollars. Johnny looked out at the distant coastline, his lips trembling before he finally spoke the words he had been dreading. ¡°We do have the house.¡± His daughter opened her mouth as if to protest but said nothing. The house had always been promised to her¡ªa place she could live in after marriage. But now, that promise seemed unlikely to be fulfilled. Johnny, despite his shortcomings, cared deeply for his daughter. Seeing her disheartened expression, he attempted to comfort her. ¡°Think of the positives,¡± he said. ¡°The bakery still brings in a steady income every month, and the new officer isn¡¯t charging us much in dues. ¡°Next week, I¡¯ll try to negotiate with the gangs to lower our fees further. And we can always take out a loan.¡± His daughter managed a weak smile. ¡°Yeah, we can get a loan. Once we pay it off, the house will still be ours.¡± Back at the bakery, her boyfriend was kneading dough vigorously, his sweat dripping into the flour¡ªa special, albeit unappetizing, touch. That evening, the intern lawyer recommended by Mr. Gus visited them. After collecting information and documents, he advised Johnny to prepare for fines, as the tax office would demand back taxes and penalties, which the court would likely support. ¡°If you can¡¯t pay promptly, they¡¯ll add interest,¡± the lawyer warned. ¡°And it¡¯s high.¡± When Johnny asked what would happen if he couldn¡¯t pay, the young lawyer, lacking tact, bluntly replied that the bank would auction off his assets¡ªand he¡¯d likely end up in jail. R?¨¢£ÎO??¨¨? --- The following morning, Johnny resolved to fight back. As long as the bakery stayed afloat, he believed he could recover. He visited Broadcom Bank and sat before a loan manager, an older man with glasses. After reviewing Johnny¡¯s application form and making two phone calls, the manager raised his eyebrows. ¡°Mr. Johnny, if you use your house as collateral, we can offer you $1,500.¡± Johnny¡¯s eyes widened. He had spent the entire night convincing himself to mortgage the house, and now he was being told it was worth so little? ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t mean $3,500 or $2,500?¡± he asked, barely containing his anger. The manager shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s an old property. I checked with our partners, and the most recent sale in your area was for $3,000. ¡°If you default, we¡¯d have to cover the costs of repossession and auctioning. At best, we might recover $2,200¡ªand likely less.¡± Johnny was furious. ¡°But you¡¯re only offering me $1,500!¡± ¡°That difference accounts for interest and our safety margin. We must protect our interests first, Mr. Johnny. ¡°We¡¯re not a charity. If you want charity, go to a nonprofit. We¡¯re a bank.¡± S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Gathering Johnny¡¯s papers into a folder, the manager added, ¡°Feel free to consider other banks or financial companies.¡± Seething, Johnny snatched the documents, glaring at the security guard outside. Swallowing his anger, he muttered, ¡°This bloodsucking place¡ªI¡¯m never coming back.¡± --- Johnny next tried Baihui Bank and Jincheng Bank. Baihui¡¯s loan manager offered $1,750¡ª$250 more than Broadcom¡ªciting similar reasons for the undervaluation. Still, Johnny found it unacceptable and moved on. Jincheng Bank, a local institution backed by wealthy investors and state support, was slightly more generous. After reviewing his documents, the manager said, ¡°We can offer $1,800. This is the highest amount you¡¯ll get in this city.¡± ¡°That¡¯s still not enough,¡± Johnny grumbled. The manager explained, ¡°Mr. Johnny, if you can¡¯t repay the loan, we¡¯d need to sell the house to recover both the principal and interest. It would have to fetch at least $2,400. ¡°The area has seen only one sale in the past three months. To sell quickly, we¡¯d likely list it below $3,000¡ªand interested buyers wouldn¡¯t pay full price. ¡°So, we¡¯re not lowballing you; we¡¯re being realistic. ¡°Look on the bright side¡ªif the house sells for $5,000, the surplus will go to your account.¡± Johnny found nothing amusing in this remark. ¡°So $1,800 is the best offer?¡± The manager nodded and began packing away the documents. ¡°No one will offer more, except maybe a private finance company¡ªbut you know what you¡¯d lose if you go to them.¡± --- On his way home, a desperate idea crept into Johnny¡¯s mind: why not sell the house outright? At a local real estate agency, he expressed his intent to sell. After inspecting the property, the agent said, ¡°Your house isn¡¯t bad. What¡¯s your asking price?¡± Johnny felt a flicker of hope. ¡°How much do you think it¡¯s worth?¡± The agent thought for a moment. ¡°If you¡¯re not in a hurry, $2,600 would be a fair price. ¡°Some repairs are needed¡ªflooring, wall paint, the exterior, and the roof. You¡¯ll need to offer a competitive price.¡± Johnny, already bracing himself, still found this hard to stomach. ¡°I heard houses here sell for $3,500!¡± The agent chuckled. ¡°That was a newer house with better finishes.¡± ¡°And if I need to sell quickly?¡± Johnny asked. ¡°I could list it for $2,400.¡± Johnny¡¯s blood pressure spiked. His head swam, and he closed his eyes briefly. ¡°You just sold a house here for $3,000!¡± The agent maintained his disingenuous smile. ¡°Spend $500 on renovations, and I guarantee you¡¯ll get $3,000 too.¡± Frustrated, Johnny returned home with his papers, unable to focus on anything. As he tossed and turned, a small card slipped out from somewhere: Wanli Financial Consulting Company ¨C Meeting All Your Needs! Chapter 86: Rumors and a New Dinner Chapter 86: Rumors and a New Dinner Jason''s death had unified the group in a way few other events could have. Perhaps this was the Federation¡¯s equivalent of the saying about weighty matters... what was it? Something about a mountain? Lance wasn¡¯t sure of the exact phrase, but the sentiment seemed fitting. At 9 a.m., Lance arrived outside St. Naya¡¯s Cathedral. His reputation among the Empire¡¯s immigrant community had been growing steadily, and many greeted him warmly as he passed. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lance skillfully cultivated this public image, knowing that greater success required him to become a figurehead¡ªa ¡°representative.¡± People, after all, were a multi-purpose resource. To a capitalist, they were endless mines to be exploited. To a politician, they were weapons¡ªcapable of being swords or shields depending on the need. In the hands of different leaders, people could take on vastly different roles. They could even be reused, like a washed condom¡ªso long as it wasn¡¯t broken. Many people, such as Mr. Jobav, failed to grasp this concept. Jobav had a solid base of support but didn¡¯t know how to utilize it. That lack of understanding made him weak. If Jobav saw people as power instead of as a means to generate money, his strength would grow exponentially. Lance, however, had no such problem. If he possessed Jobav¡¯s support base, he would become unyielding¡ªa fiery force that could melt anyone who dared to challenge him. Jobav was present at the cathedral that day, but his demeanor was unusually subdued. He stood to the side, lost in thought. Lance greeted him, but Jobav didn¡¯t engage. In the past, Jobav might have approached Lance for a chat, and Lance would have respectfully paused to wait. Today, however, Jobav had no intention of talking, and Lance wasn¡¯t interested in pressing him. Jobav had recently dined with the mayor, who had shown interest in having Jobav join his team. But the conversation had left Jobav conflicted. The mayor had presented him with a clear, albeit blunt, proposition: > "Once the President secures reelection, he¡¯ll start granting legal status to illegal immigrants. This will give them voting rights. > > "Jobav, you hold a prominent position in the Empire¡¯s immigrant community. I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve seen the bigger picture and chosen to join us. But you know, every member of our team has proven their value. > > "So, what about you? How will you demonstrate to others that adding you to the team will make us stronger, not weaker?" The directness of the mayor¡¯s request¡ªbordering on coercion¡ªhad left Jobav deeply uncomfortable. Back in the Empire, even greedy nobles would at least maintain an air of civility. But here? There was no pretense of decorum, just a blatant demand for him to ¡°give.¡± Yet refusing wasn¡¯t an option. Jobav was grappling with a significant problem involving Arthur and a missing shipment of liquor. Although Jobav was confident Arthur wasn¡¯t behind the theft, the lack of evidence left him at a dead end. Joining the mayor¡¯s team seemed like the only viable path forward. But the ¡°fill-in-the-blank¡± nature of the mayor¡¯s demand¡ªthat Jobav prove his worth¡ªwas a source of frustration. If Jobav offered too much, he¡¯d regret it. If he offered too little, the mayor¡¯s team might reject him. He felt trapped. While Jobav brooded, Lance approached a group of young men nearby. Gerald, seeing Lance, eagerly waved and ran to his side. The other young men greeted Lance enthusiastically as well. ¡°You¡¯ve started a family!¡± Gerald exclaimed with excitement. ¡°I want to join!¡± Lance was momentarily puzzled. ¡°Who told you that?¡± ¡°Everyone¡¯s talking about it,¡± Gerald said earnestly. ¡°Even Ennio and the others are with you now.¡± Gerald¡¯s admiration for Lance was clear. Back on the ship, Lance had protected Gerald from a fate he didn¡¯t want to imagine. Since then, Gerald had idolized him. ?????????§°????¨¨s? Lance glanced at Bolton, who was mingling with some well-dressed Imperial immigrants in the distance. Turning back, he smiled. ¡°You¡¯ll have to convince your uncle first.¡± Gerald snorted. ¡°He only cares about how much money I give him every month, not what I¡¯m doing.¡± ¡°I thought you two got along,¡± Lance said. ¡°Only if you consider his expectations for more money at the end of the month,¡± Gerald replied bitterly. ¡°He¡¯s stingy and constantly reminds me that I should be grateful for my legal work status, as if it¡¯s all thanks to him.¡± ¡°My parents actually paid him a large sum to take care of me.¡± Lance hesitated. ¡°What will you tell your parents if you join us?¡± ¡°I¡¯m an adult. I can decide my own future,¡± Gerald said firmly. Lance clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll give you an address. Take care of your family matters first, then come find me.¡± Gerald¡¯s face lit up with a wide smile. The rumors of Lance forming a family quickly spread among the young people, possibly leaked by someone in the group. Regardless, it didn¡¯t affect his plans. In fact, it was a timely development. Establishing a formal organization would amplify his influence far beyond what he could achieve as an individual. Addressing the group of young men, Lance assured them that if they encountered problems they couldn¡¯t solve, they could come to him. He couldn¡¯t promise solutions but pledged to do his best. ¡°We¡¯re all from the Empire,¡± Lance said. ¡°In this hostile and unfamiliar country, we must look out for each other.¡± Meanwhile, on Sunday morning, Patricia sat at her vanity, carefully applying makeup. Mrs. Lawrence, peeking in from the hallway, noticed her daughter¡¯s preparations and headed to the study. ¡°Patricia is going out again,¡± she remarked. Mr. Lawrence, engrossed in his newspaper, didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Let her go. She¡¯s grown now. We can¡¯t control her life forever. It¡¯s her life.¡± ¡°She¡¯s putting on makeup,¡± Mrs. Lawrence added. ¡°I think she¡¯s going on a date.¡± ¡°Is it that... Lance fellow?¡± Mr. Lawrence asked hesitantly. ¡°Lance White, I believe,¡± his wife corrected. ¡°You should show some respect to the young man¡ªand to your daughter.¡± Realizing his tone had been dismissive, Mr. Lawrence lowered his newspaper and raised his hands in mock surrender. ¡°You¡¯re right. That was a foolish thing to say. I apologize.¡± Mrs. Lawrence pressed her point. ¡°We should invite him over for dinner. We need to get to know him properly.¡± Mr. Lawrence considered this. ¡°You¡¯re right. Ask her to invite him. That way, they¡¯ll be home before dark.¡± Knowing her husband¡¯s protective instincts, Mrs. Lawrence smiled knowingly. She chose not to tease him but couldn¡¯t hide her amusement entirely. A few steps later, she knocked on Patricia¡¯s door. ¡°Can I come in?¡± Patricia, slightly flustered, glanced back. ¡°Of course, Mom.¡± Mrs. Lawrence entered and stood behind her daughter. ¡°Going out with Lance?¡± Patricia didn¡¯t deny it. ¡°Your father wants to invite him over for dinner,¡± Mrs. Lawrence said. Patricia spun around, wide-eyed. ¡°That¡¯s not appropriate!¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Mrs. Lawrence asked gently. ¡°Is it because you two haven¡¯t defined your relationship? Or is there another reason?¡± Struggling to answer, Patricia fidgeted. Mrs. Lawrence placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s a great opportunity for us to meet him. We¡¯re worried about you. ¡°You can¡¯t expect us to wait until you announce your engagement before we meet him. It¡¯s just dinner. I¡¯ll make sure your father behaves and doesn¡¯t interfere. I promise.¡± After some thought, Patricia relented. ¡°I can¡¯t guarantee he¡¯ll come, but I¡¯ll ask.¡± Mrs. Lawrence wiped the lipstick from her daughter¡¯s lips with a handkerchief. ¡°Show him your natural charm¡ªthat¡¯s your greatest strength. Make me proud, my dear.¡± Looking at her reflection, Patricia saw the fresh, confident young woman her mother described. She suddenly felt more self-assured. Who needed makeup? She was beautiful just as she was. Chapter 87: A Movie and a Family Dinner Chapter 87: A Movie and a Family Dinner Lance leaned against his car, a cigarette dangling from his lips, watching passersby on the street. The middle-class neighborhood had strict entry rules, and the security guard eyed Lance suspiciously. He didn¡¯t have any psychic powers to detect criminal intent¡ªhe just instinctively distrusted non-residents, especially those as good-looking as Lance. Lately, Lance¡¯s ventures had started gaining traction, and he¡¯d gotten to know more about Patricia¡¯s father, Mr. William Lawrence. Mr. Lawrence was a municipal civil servant working under the mayor, holding a position that was neither particularly high nor low. He was a member of the Federation Party, one of the Federation¡¯s three major political factions alongside the Liberty Party and the Socialist Party. Originally, there had only been two dominant parties¡ªthe Liberty Party and the Federation Party. The Liberty Party advocated for the freedoms of the middle and lower classes until a significant split occurred years ago, giving rise to the Socialist Party. Socialists believed that excessive individual freedoms could bring disaster to society and the nation. They championed industrial and economic development, a stance fundamentally at odds with the Liberty Party¡¯s emphasis on liberalism, which Socialists derided as ¡°reckless freedom.¡± The core ideological conflict was the priority of individual versus national interests, and the two camps couldn¡¯t reconcile. The Socialist Party, heavily backed by capitalists, grew rapidly, often taking the reins of government and dominating Congress. In this political climate, Mr. Lawrence¡¯s Federation Party had little leverage to help his career. Thus, at forty years old, he remained stuck in a middling municipal position. In an era where ideals bowed to capital, idealism alone had little meaning. A pair of young women walking by waved at Lance. He returned their wave with a smile. Summer¡¯s breeze carried an inexplicable charm, stirring emotions in the air. It wasn¡¯t about wanting to do anything in particular¡ªsometimes just feeling the wind was enough to be content. ¡°Lance!¡± Patricia emerged from the community gates, her vibrant presence like a fairy stepping out of a painting. Lance tossed his cigarette aside and stepped forward, pulling her into a hug. ¡°You look stunning.¡± Being complimented by someone you like is always heartwarming, and Patricia beamed. ¡°I thought so too!¡± She naturally took his arm. ¡°There¡¯s something I need to tell you.¡± Lance opened the car door for her. ¡°What is it?¡± Patricia hesitated, a bit flustered. ¡°William and the others want to invite you over for dinner tonight. They¡¯ve prepared a meal for you.¡± Getting into the driver¡¯s seat, Lance started the car. ¡°That¡¯s good news.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t feel awkward about it?¡± she asked. Shaking his head, Lance replied, ¡°If meeting the people closest to you is awkward, then you should question whether I truly love you or if I just want to sleep with you. ¡°This is something I need to do. Either I convince them, or they convince me!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be a warrior!¡± he added with a sunny smile that made Patricia¡¯s heart melt. That afternoon, the two went to see a movie. Cinema was one of the few cheap and widely accessible forms of entertainment in this era. They chose a more upscale theater, where tickets cost 25 cents. Such venues were cleaner and smelled better than the 10- or 15-cent establishments, where one could never be sure what the previous occupant of their seat had done. ?¨¤????? S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. At the 25-cent theater, staff ensured the seats were clean, and the patrons tended to behave better. The film, Love in a Chaotic Time, was a war romance. People of the era seemed to believe that hardships and tragedy made love more profound. Patricia was deeply engrossed in the story, while Lance appeared distracted. Despite her focus, Patricia¡¯s face grew redder as the film progressed. The climax featured the female lead, after years of waiting, finally receiving the male lead¡¯s ashes. Cradling her growing belly, she wore a determined smile as she faced a new life. The crowd¡¯s response started with a smattering of light applause¡ªtentative and subdued, like a frail old man unbuckling his belt in the restroom. Soon, however, the applause swelled into a thunderous ovation. The audience was moved by the heroine¡¯s steadfast love, loyalty to her family, and enduring hope. Patricia clapped enthusiastically, while Lance joined in with less fervor. ¡°You¡¯re crying,¡± Lance noted. ¡°It was so touching!¡± Patricia said, squeezing his hand. ¡°Don¡¯t you think the heroine was amazing?¡± Lance shook his head. ¡°Actually, she should have been a little more selfish. If she had been, her husband might not have died, and their child would still have a father. ¡°Patricia, from an artistic perspective, the film beautifully ties war, love, death, and new life into a poetic cycle. ¡°But as an ordinary man, if we were married and war broke out, I¡¯d take you far away. ¡°I couldn¡¯t choose between loyalty to my country and loyalty to you. But if I had to, I¡¯d choose you.¡± Already emotional, Patricia couldn¡¯t hold back any longer. She kissed Lance passionately. After a long kiss, she pulled back, shy and flustered. Patricia had been raised in a strict church-run girls¡¯ school, where the nuns were notorious for their harsh discipline. Public corporal punishment was a common tool used to break both the body and spirit of rebellious students. Such schools had seen their fair share of student suicides, though the church and government often suppressed such news. Patricia, a model student, had never dared step out of line. Sensing her shyness, Lance gently took her hand and led her out of the theater. By now, the sky had darkened, and the heat of the sun had faded. The couple sampled some street food, which Patricia ate with great enjoyment despite its mediocre taste. ¡°I rarely eat street food. My dad says it¡¯s unhygienic.¡± Lance didn¡¯t argue. ¡°He¡¯s not wrong.¡± Patricia froze mid-bite and looked at him. Lance wiped a bit of grease from her face. ¡°But if you avoid everything unhealthy, you¡¯ll miss out on experiences. When you¡¯re old, you¡¯ll regret it. ¡°A small compromise in health for a lot of joy¡ªthat¡¯s a trade worth making.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right, Lance!¡± The two tried various street foods until Patricia was full. By the time they returned to Patricia¡¯s home, she looked at Lance nervously. ¡°They¡¯ll know we¡¯ve already eaten.¡± ¡°Then tell them the truth,¡± Lance said. While it should have been Lance feeling nervous, Patricia was the one unsettled. She appreciated that Lance respected her as a person, not just as an object or a body. As they pulled into the Lawrence family¡¯s gated community, the security guard recognized Patricia. ¡°Miss Patricia, who¡¯s this handsome gentleman?¡± ¡°My boyfriend. Please open the gate.¡± The guard nodded and sighed as the car drove through. Such moments were a universal melancholy for all security guards. When they reached the Lawrence home, Patricia asked, ¡°Are you nervous?¡± ¡°Not as long as Mr. Lawrence doesn¡¯t hate brandy,¡± Lance replied, holding up a bottle. Patricia, drawing a deep breath, took his arm and knocked on the door. Inside, the Lawrences had been watching through the window. Mrs. Lawrence found Lance quite likable, though Mr. Lawrence remained reserved. Mrs. Lawrence opened the door, her appearance polished in a pale pink dress and a pearl necklace. Her radiant smile was natural¡ªor at least, not from wax. ¡°Welcome, Lance,¡± she said, taking the brandy and passing it to her husband. ¡°Thank you for the thoughtful gift.¡± Mr. Lawrence glanced at the brandy, then at his daughter, recognizing her influence in the choice. It was his favorite, and he quietly appreciated Lance¡¯s generosity. ¡°This is an expensive gift. Perfect for tonight,¡± he said, handing the bottle back to his wife. ¡°Open it up.¡± He then led Lance to the living room. ¡°What can I get you¡ªtea, coffee, juice?¡± ¡°Water.¡± Mr. Lawrence raised an eyebrow before chuckling. ¡°Not nervous, are you?¡± From their spot nearby, Mrs. Lawrence and Patricia were eavesdropping, eager to see how Lance handled Mr. Lawrence¡¯s subtle yet calculated first ¡°attack.¡± Chapter 88: Quick Wit and What You Owe Me Chapter 88: Quick Wit and What You Owe Me When you meet your girlfriend¡¯s father for the first time, and he asks if you¡¯re nervous, how do you answer? Nervous? Why are you nervous? Not nervous? Why aren¡¯t you nervous? No matter what you say, it invites more questions, each harder to navigate. A single slip could make the entire encounter crash and burn. Lance glanced toward Patricia in the dining room, then back at Mr. Lawrence. ¡°Not nervous,¡± he said confidently. ¡°If you truly love someone, standing in my position gives you all the courage in the world,¡± Lance continued. ¡°I¡¯ll overcome every challenge to take her home with me. ¡°The only thing that could make me nervous is losing her. But even that thought fuels my resolve, because I know I¡¯d fight to win her back.¡± Mrs. Lawrence, watching from the sidelines, couldn¡¯t stop smiling. She leaned over to Patricia and whispered, ¡°Is he always this eloquent?¡± Mr. Lawrence, however, raised an eyebrow. Lance¡¯s answer felt too polished. ¡°How many girls and fathers have you said that to?¡± Without hesitation, Lance met his gaze. ¡°You and Patricia are the first. I swear to God.¡± In a nation where 80% of people were believers, swearing to God was no trivial matter. Mr. Lawrence studied Lance, who remained calm and composed. His sincerity was disarming. This earned Lance a slight thaw in Mr. Lawrence¡¯s demeanor. ¡°You can call me William,¡± he said. A good sign. Patricia, who had darted to the restroom to giggle in private, returned with rosy cheeks, happiness radiating from her. --- Mr. Lawrence, curious to learn more, began asking about Lance¡¯s background. ¡°I heard you were sold to a sweatshop as a child?¡± As a civil servant, Mr. Lawrence had access to basic personal records. Privacy laws in the Federation? Those were mostly for show, meant to pacify taxpayers. Lance recounted the familiar tale of hardship and perseverance, and Mr. Lawrence listened intently. ¡°How do you plan to rebuild your relationship with your parents and sister? ¡°It¡¯s been years. I imagine you¡¯re more like strangers than family.¡± Family mattered deeply in the Federation. It was a defining marker of character. Maintain strong family ties, and even misdeeds might be excused as outliers. But a fractured family? No amount of good deeds could erase the suspicion it created. ¡°I¡¯ll try to reconnect,¡± Lance replied earnestly. ¡°I won¡¯t force anything, but I¡¯ll take responsibility where I should. That¡¯s all I can do for now.¡± A satisfactory answer, enough to move the conversation forward. ¡°I hear you¡¯ve registered two companies?¡± Mr. Lawrence asked next. ¡°Yes,¡± Lance said, explaining the operations of his financial consulting firm and labor agency. He highlighted their legitimate revenue streams, softening Mr. Lawrence¡¯s attitude further. Though a Federation Party member, Mr. Lawrence understood the Socialist Party¡¯s emphasis on industrial and economic modernization was correct. In this capitalist-dominated era, wealth was power, and Lance¡¯s financial success wasn¡¯t a bad thing. --- Inevitably, the topic turned to the recent anti-immigration protests. Lance avoided diving too deep but expressed measured sympathy for immigrants. Mr. Lawrence didn¡¯t comment directly but appeared increasingly satisfied with Lance. --- Dinner was soon served. Mrs. Lawrence had opened the cognac, which, despite its reputation, tasted like any other top-tier brandy. But Mr. Lawrence loved it. The meal was lavish, showcasing Mrs. Lawrence¡¯s skill as a homemaker. Her cooking was impeccable. Throughout dinner, Lance painted a vivid picture of himself as a self-made man: sold into hardship, enduring countless trials, finding his family again, and achieving success. He described his meeting Patricia as ¡°God¡¯s arrangement,¡± a sentiment that resonated with the devout Lawrence family. By the end of the evening, they could find no fault with Lance. --- After dinner, Lance stayed only briefly before politely excusing himself. As they waved him off, Mrs. Lawrence couldn¡¯t hide her delight. ¡°He¡¯s charming, witty, intelligent, sharp¡ªand handsome to boot. Are you still worried now?¡± Mr. Lawrence let out a heavy sigh. ¡°On the contrary, I¡¯m even more worried.¡± Too perfect, perhaps? He wasn¡¯t sure how to process it, but he¡¯d have plenty of time to mull it over with Mrs. Lawrence later. --- The next morning, back at his office, Lance was interrupted by a knock on the door. ¡°Got a minute?¡± Elvin asked, stepping inside. Lance gestured for him to sit and offered him a cigarette. Lighting one for Lance first, Elvin finally spoke. ¡°Guess who showed up?¡± ¡°Who?¡± ¡°Your old boss, Johnny. He¡¯s here to borrow money.¡± Lance was surprised. Elvin filled him in, recounting Johnny¡¯s series of misfortunes. Lance found it almost unbelievable. He had assumed Johnny¡¯s apprentice would tolerate things indefinitely. Instead, it seemed the apprentice had turned on Johnny after Lance left¡ªpossibly even reporting Johnny¡¯s tax evasion to the authorities. Elvin shrugged. ¡°What do you want to do?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll handle him myself,¡± Lance decided. --- Johnny sat dejectedly in the office¡¯s waiting area, lost in thought. He had already visited multiple financial firms, all of which offered only $2,000 at exorbitant interest rates¡ªfar beyond what he could afford to repay. His lawyer had brought bad news: the tax office was pursuing ten years of unpaid taxes, plus fines, totaling $10,000. While the court might reduce the fines slightly, the tax office¡¯s demand for back taxes would likely be approved in full. If Johnny didn¡¯t pay promptly, his assets would be seized and auctioned, with additional penalties for late payment. Desperate, Johnny had come here as a last resort. He was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Turning, he froze. ¡°You...?¡± Lance, dressed in a high-end suit that exuded success, smiled. ¡°Good to see you again, Johnny.¡± Stunned, Johnny stammered, ¡°You... work here?¡± ¡°I¡¯m the manager,¡± Lance said, taking a seat. ¡°I hear you¡¯re in trouble.¡± Johnny hesitated. His pride warred with his desperation. ¡°Yes. I need money.¡± Lance picked up a small desk ornament, idly spinning it. ¡°Money¡¯s never the problem. But what can you offer as collateral?¡± ¡°Your bread-making skills? Worthless here.¡± Johnny¡¯s face flushed. His craftsmanship was his greatest pride, yet he had no rebuttal. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lance pressed on. ¡°How much do banks and financial firms value your skills? Five dollars? Ten? Twenty?¡± Johnny finally snapped. ¡°If you¡¯re here to humiliate me, you¡¯ve succeeded.¡± He stood, ready to leave. But Lance wasn¡¯t finished. ¡°I¡¯ll give you $3,000.¡± Johnny froze. Slowly, he sat back down. ¡°You¡¯ll really lend me that much?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Lance said. ¡°But on my terms.¡± --- Johnny eventually signed the contracts Lance prepared¡ªone at the legal 22% annual interest rate and another labeled ¡°consultation fees,¡± cleverly sidestepping the Usury Act. After taking photos of Johnny holding the signed documents, Lance asked, ¡°Cash or transfer?¡± ¡°Cash,¡± Johnny grumbled. Lance handed over the money, but Johnny counted it twice before glaring. ¡°It¡¯s short by $18.¡± Lance smirked. ¡°You forgot. You owe me.¡± Chapter 89: The Dockworkers’ Union Chapter 89: The Dockworkers¡¯ Union Johnny left quickly with the cash in hand, eager to escape the situation. After he was gone, Elvin raised an eyebrow, curious. ¡°You really lent him the money?¡± Lance nodded. ¡°He can¡¯t pay it back.¡± ¡°I worked in his bakery for over a month. I know exactly how much he earns. Even if his daughter stopped pilfering from the cash register, after covering all expenses, he clears around $200 a month.¡± Elvin looked astonished. ¡°That much?¡± ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a decent amount,¡± Lance agreed, ¡°but consider this: that $200 includes wages for three people. If they worked elsewhere as legal Federation citizens, they could easily earn $35 a month each, provided they didn¡¯t slack off. ¡°They also have to eat and drink, which cuts further into that income. Ultimately, the bakery brings in about $100 a month in real profit. Even if he skipped paying wages, he¡¯d still fall short of repaying the loan. ¡°In six months, even if he saved $300 a month, he wouldn¡¯t make the full amount.¡± Elvin frowned. ¡°So why lend him the money at all?¡± Lance placed the document folder into his safe with a calm expression. ¡°Because I want him to default. ¡°If he could repay the loan, how would I get his storefront?¡± Elvin¡¯s eyes widened as realization dawned. ¡°So from the start, you never intended to let him off the hook.¡± Lance shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not about letting him off or not. I already got my $18 back. The rest is just business.¡± He paused, pulling the two contracts Johnny had signed from the desk and placing them in front of Elvin. ¡°From now on, for loans exceeding $100, use these contracts.¡± Elvin skimmed through them, but the legalese made his head spin. Lance explained, ¡°This part covers the loan itself. This other part outlines financial consulting services. They¡¯re separate. ¡°Any interest exceeding what¡¯s permitted under the Usury Act is categorized as consulting fees. Understand?¡± Elvin caught on quickly. ¡°So if someone defaults, we can take them to court?¡± ¡°Exactly. While we do engage in some gray-market dealings, we should always operate within the law whenever possible. That way, we can earn clean money without unnecessary risks.¡± That afternoon, Lance had a meeting with Vaughn, the vice-chairman of the dockworkers¡¯ union. Elvin had arranged for them to meet at a discreet corner table in a caf¨¦ near the docks. In the Federation, the term "union" encompassed a wide variety of industry-specific worker organizations. Shipbuilders had their own union, as did steelworkers. Naturally, dockworkers had one too. Vaughn appeared to be in his fifties but didn¡¯t quite fit the stereotypical image of a working-class leader. He carried himself with a certain polish that hinted at his experience in the political machinery of labor advocacy. ¡°Mr. Lance,¡± Vaughn began as they settled into their seats, ¡°your Wanli Agency has been severely disrupting operations at the docks. Many workers have complained to me, saying you¡¯ve turned the place into chaos.¡± Lance¡¯s agency controlled thousands of work cards, connecting over 7,000 illegal immigrants to jobs at the docks. This influx naturally caused friction with native dockworkers, especially during the lingering tensions of the anti-immigration movement. The docks couldn¡¯t afford prolonged shutdowns despite the political unrest. Companies had already suffered significant losses during symbolic closures and needed to resume operations. As a result, many illegal immigrants had returned to work, fueling resentment among union members who had been emboldened by the recent protests. ¡°Our homeland is being invaded by illegal immigrants¡± had become a rallying cry, and the union faced mounting pressure to defend local workers¡¯ interests. Vaughn¡¯s meeting with Lance was almost inevitable. What surprised him was that Lance had approached the union first. Lance maintained a friendly smile in the face of Vaughn¡¯s complaints. ¡°Vaughn¡ª¡± Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°No need for titles,¡± Vaughn interrupted. ¡°Just call me Vaughn. The whole ¡®mister¡¯ thing is for capitalists.¡± Lance adjusted his tone. ¡°Alright, Vaughn. I believe our efforts aren¡¯t an affront to local workers. ¡°Think about the jobs they¡¯re doing¡ªscrubbing ships, cleaning sewers, scaling chimneys, underwater repairs. ¡°These jobs are dirty, grueling, and dangerous. Do you know how many people are willing to take on such work?¡± Vaughn hesitated but nodded. ¡°That¡¯s true, but¡ª¡± Lance cut him off. ¡°Exactly. The most hazardous, exhausting tasks are handled by illegal immigrants. They¡¯re keeping Federation workers away from these risks. That¡¯s not chaos; it¡¯s order. ¡°If we send them away, who¡¯ll do these jobs? ¡°Federation workers shouldn¡¯t have to risk their lives for $20 or $30 a month. Their lives are worth more than that.¡± Vaughn fell silent, mulling over Lance¡¯s argument. The reality was that most of these undesirable jobs had no takers among local workers, leaving them to the immigrants. Seeing Vaughn soften, Lance pressed on. ¡°I understand there are concerns about the conduct of these workers. We¡¯re aware of the complaints and are already addressing them. I¡¯ll ensure better management of the immigrant labor force. ¡°I¡¯m a Federation citizen too, Vaughn. My goal is to keep the docks running smoothly, not disrupt them.¡± After a pause, Lance added, ¡°I plan to make a donation.¡± Vaughn, lost in thought, blinked. ¡°A donation?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Lance said. ¡°I¡¯ll allocate $300 from my company¡¯s monthly earnings to assist dockworkers¡¯ families in need¡ªwhether they¡¯ve lost their jobs or face medical emergencies. ¡°We¡¯re all workers here, part of the same community. We need to support each other.¡± Vaughn perked up. ¡°That¡¯s a noble gesture, Lance. Very commendable.¡± Lance leaned in. ¡°And I¡¯ll increase it to $400, though publicly we¡¯ll say $300. I know how hard you and the union work¡ªnot just on the docks but for labor advocacy as well. ¡°Buy some beef, take care of yourselves. As they say, a strong body is the foundation of progress. Only with strength can we do more for the workers.¡± Vaughn¡¯s weathered face lit up. ¡°That¡¯s generous of you. But... could there be any legal issues with this arrangement?¡± Lance widened his eyes, feigning shock. ¡°What laws prohibit me from helping workers and their families? ¡°Has Federation law stripped us of the right to support one another?¡± Moved by Lance¡¯s conviction, Vaughn nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right. People might have misjudged you, Lance. I¡¯ll explain things to them.¡± Lance seized the opportunity to further his plan. ¡°I also intend to provide uniforms for the immigrant laborers, to standardize their appearance and behavior on the docks. ¡°If you have suggestions for additional measures, I¡¯m open to including them. ¡°Uniforms will make it easier to identify who¡¯s breaking the rules and ensure accountability. It¡¯ll also remind the workers that they¡¯re being monitored, which should curb misconduct.¡± Vaughn pondered the idea. While something about it felt off, he couldn¡¯t pinpoint the flaw. After a moment, he nodded. ¡°That could work¡ªclear identification and oversight. A solid plan.¡± The thought even inspired Vaughn to consider uniforming local dockworkers for a stronger, unified presence, though he doubted it would pass union approval. Still, it was worth proposing. ¡°You¡¯ve given me a lot to think about, Lance. We should stay in touch.¡± Lance smiled and slid a $400 check across the table, pressing it with two fingers. Meeting Lance¡¯s earnest gaze, Vaughn felt that refusing would be an affront to such genuine generosity. Chapter 90: Prohibition Chapter 90: Prohibition Vaughn was relatively easy to deal with¡ªafter all, he was just a vice-chairman. When Lance saw Vaughn slip the check into his pocket, he knew the union wouldn¡¯t trouble him for a while. But this wasn¡¯t a long-term fix. Complaints, once suppressed, didn¡¯t disappear; they merely accumulated, growing stronger until they reached a tipping point. It was like going shopping with your partner. You pass by a food stall and ask if they¡¯d like a bite. They say no. But as soon as you get something for yourself, they demand the first¡ªand biggest¡ªbite. Irritation, frustration, and resentment build. You might not say anything then and there, but someday, in the middle of a fight, that memory will resurface as a sharp blade aimed straight at their heart. The dockworkers were no different. The union might have calmed their emotions for now, but the workers wouldn¡¯t think everything was resolved. Instead, they¡¯d brood: ¡°You got lucky this time, but next time, it won¡¯t be so easy.¡± Lance needed additional strategies to completely defuse the tension. ¡°Does the union organize any worker sports tournaments?¡± Lance asked. Vaughn, now seeing Lance in a much friendlier light, didn¡¯t hesitate to answer. ¡°We used to have dockworker baseball games. We had three teams, but after a few tournaments, they stopped.¡± Vaughn¡¯s face lit up as he continued, ¡°Finding a venue wasn¡¯t the issue, but most workers were already exhausted after a day on the job. Forcing them to compete after that felt cruel. ¡°Plus, the capitalists wouldn¡¯t approve. Workers were warned not to ask for time off to train or participate. ¡°Eventually, we realized that for the games to be truly enjoyable, the players needed to take time off work. That wasn¡¯t part of our original plan.¡± There was one more issue Vaughn didn¡¯t mention: the prizes weren¡¯t attractive enough to motivate workers to join. Lance nodded thoughtfully. ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate.¡± He didn¡¯t elaborate but made a mental note to explore this idea further. ¡°Well, at least we¡¯re allies now, Vaughn. If there¡¯s ever any confusion or misunderstanding from the union, let me know immediately. Federation workers and immigrant workers are both at the bottom of society. There¡¯s no need for us to fight each other.¡± Vaughn agreed. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right. I support your perspective, though not everyone will understand it. I¡¯ll do my best to pass your message along, but I can¡¯t guarantee how much I¡¯ll achieve.¡± --- As their conversation wrapped up, Lance waved over the caf¨¦ server. ¡°Pack up twelve iced coffees and deliver them to this gentleman¡¯s office. Include extra ice¡ªit¡¯s scorching hot today.¡± He handed over $3. ¡°Keep the change as a tip.¡± The caf¨¦, located near the docks, wasn¡¯t a fancy establishment. Iced coffees cost ten cents each, so twelve cups totaled $1.20. Including Lance and Vaughn¡¯s own drinks, the bill came to $1.70. The server, thrilled with the $1.30 tip, almost dropped to his knees in gratitude. Vaughn, however, tried to refuse. ¡°This really isn¡¯t necessary, Lance.¡± Grasping Vaughn¡¯s hand firmly, Lance replied, ¡°I know you¡¯re worried people might accuse me of bribing union staff. Just tell them you bought the drinks. ¡°This isn¡¯t about currying favor¡ªit¡¯s about basic human decency. It¡¯s far too hot out for anyone to suffer unnecessarily.¡± Who could refuse such a gesture? Vaughn smiled warmly. ¡°On behalf of my colleagues, thank you.¡± Lance shook his hand. ¡°If there¡¯s a chance, I¡¯d love to meet them in person. But for now, I have other work to attend to.¡± After Lance left, Vaughn turned to the server. ¡°Add a double-patty burger to my order. I¡¯m starving.¡± The server hesitated, prompting Vaughn to glare. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that $3 he gave you isn¡¯t enough!¡± The server sighed internally, scribbling the order. ¡°Of course, sir.¡± Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. --- Back in the car, Elvin asked as he started the engine, ¡°So, it¡¯s settled? What was the price?¡± ¡°Four hundred a month, plus some incidental costs. But I think it¡¯s worth it,¡± Lance replied, wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. ¡°Damn this heat. Didn¡¯t the meteorologist say it¡¯d cool down soon?¡± Elvin snorted as he drove into traffic. ¡°Meteorologists are just professional liars. They tell us there¡¯ll be good weather, and we believe them.¡± The coastal city of Jingang was notorious for its unpredictable weather. Changes came so quickly that forecasting with just observation and historical data was almost pointless. Before the heat sapped their energy completely, Lance gave Elvin another task. ¡°Find out who¡¯s been reporting us and the immigrant workers to the authorities.¡± --- Meanwhile, inside the air-conditioned city hall, two buses arrived, unloading a delegation of officials and activists. The mayor, eager to make a good impression, greeted them warmly. Among the group was the assistant to the state governor, a key figure rumored to be eyeing the governorship in the next election. Socialist Party dominance in the state made any potential candidate from their ranks a figure worth courting. Mr. Lawrence stood off to the side, quietly assisting. As a low-ranking official, he could only observe and support, unable to participate in the delegation¡¯s introductions. The group included clergy and members of temperance organizations, both integral to the prohibition movement. While the Bible didn¡¯t explicitly forbid alcohol, stricter interpretations from certain sects framed prohibition as a moral and spiritual duty. The mayor led the delegation on a tour showcasing Jingang City¡¯s industrial achievements and modern development. --- Despite the city¡¯s bustling prosperity, the visitors couldn¡¯t ignore its drinking culture. One activist remarked to the mayor, ¡°If people spent the time they waste on drinking and drunkenness on work and education, our national productivity and literacy rates would skyrocket. ¡°Alcohol doesn¡¯t just waste time and money¡ªit breeds violence and crime.¡± ¡°Prohibition isn¡¯t just necessary¡ªit¡¯s urgent.¡± The mayor nodded along, hiding any conflicting thoughts. Openly opposing prohibition, a cause championed by the nation¡¯s elite, wasn¡¯t an option for him. --- Two days later, on Saint Agrarian¡¯s Day, the state governor officially announced that the entire state was joining the Prohibition Alliance. Effective immediately, the manufacture, sale, and transportation of alcoholic beverages were outlawed. The news caused a sensation. For some, it was a victory worth celebrating. For others, it marked the start of an era of opportunity. While producing, distributing, and selling alcohol became serious crimes, possession, storage, and consumption remained legal. This loophole sent prices skyrocketing. Copper Label whiskey, which had already climbed to $2, now soared to $3. Though the increase might not seem drastic, just months ago, it had cost as little as 60 cents. In bars-turned-speakeasies, a single shot of Copper Label whiskey now sold for 35 to 45 cents, pricing many out. To adapt, bartenders began offering ¡°whiskey blends,¡± mixing beer with small amounts of whiskey for 19 cents¡ªa wildly popular choice. Of course, these bars had now been forced underground. In Jingang City, it wasn¡¯t just the price of alcohol that skyrocketed¡ªthe value of basements and hidden venues surged as well. All over the city, remote and inconspicuous locations became hubs of secret gatherings, drawing drunkards who could follow the scent of alcohol like bloodhounds. For the government, taxes and other indirect revenues tied to alcohol may have dwindled. But for those who sold it? The era of massive profits had begun. Chapter 91: News, Journalists, and Features Chapter 91: News, Journalists, and Features ¡°Day Three of Prohibition: Productivity Increases by 200%!¡± This shocking headline dominated the front page of Jingang Daily. Yet, in an era where people still placed blind faith in newspapers, the public chose to believe this outrageous claim rather than consider the possibility that the press might be lying. The article featured interviews with workers who had long struggled with alcoholism. They spoke candidly about how, before prohibition, cheap alcohol was readily available, leading them to drink excessively. One worker recounted how his drunkenness at work had cost him two fingers. But since the prohibition took effect, he claimed to have fully embraced the new regulations, abstaining from all alcoholic beverages. Now, his life was better: - He could run up six flights of stairs in one breath. - He could punch hard enough to kill a cow. - He no longer felt sleepy on the job or spent all day obsessing over alcohol. On the assembly line, he could work eleven-hour shifts and still have the energy to keep going. If not for his employer¡¯s concern for workers¡¯ health, he claimed he¡¯d happily work sixteen hours straight before resting. Prohibition, he concluded, had transformed his life for the better. He expressed heartfelt gratitude for the policy¡¯s implementation. This was politics. It didn¡¯t matter how absurd the claims were. What mattered was that those enforcing the policy could see it was being implemented effectively and yielding positive results. Lance spotted the report while eating breakfast. The political section of Jingang Daily was filled with similar glowing reviews of the new prohibition policy. He scoffed. Politics, after all, often dealt in illusions, presenting narratives that weren¡¯t necessarily true but simply needed to be believed¡ªwhether by those at the top or the bottom of society. Members of Congress would wave these newspapers as proof of prohibition¡¯s success, shouting at their opponents: > ¡°Open your eyes and see! Prohibition has scored another victory! > ¡°Alcohol-fueled drops in productivity and violent crime are on their way out. This is a triumph of humanity!¡± Meanwhile, the common folk continued their lives as usual¡ªeating, drinking, and grumbling. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. On his way to work, Lance passed more than one protest. Groups of drunkards lined the streets, holding signs with slogans like ¡°Alcohol Is Innocent¡± and loudly protesting Jingang City¡¯s full prohibition. Many bar owners had joined the demonstrations. Consider this: previously, drunken patrons could enjoy their drinks while watching dancers slowly shed their clothes. Now? Were they supposed to sip on tea, juice, or¡ªGod forbid¡ªmilk instead? Without alcohol to lower inhibitions, no one would foolishly toss money onto the stage for the chance to get closer to the smelly seafood-like performers. Strip dancers saw their income plummet. Drunkards lost their entertainment. Bar owners lost their livelihoods. The result was mass protests. Perhaps this explained why, despite nationwide prohibition, alcohol sales had surged in the states where it was already banned. For many, drinking wasn¡¯t just about alcohol. It was about rebellion¡ªan act of defiance against the government¡¯s hasty policies. They weren¡¯t just drinking alcohol. They were drinking the spirit of resistance. Lance started his day at his financial consulting firm. Business there was steady, bringing in over $10,000 in monthly interest revenue and showing slow but consistent growth. However, the labor agency was experiencing a boom, with monthly income exceeding $7,000. Word of mouth had taken off. More and more people who didn¡¯t want to work but still wanted a paycheck turned to Wanli. All they had to do was sign an authorization contract, allowing Wanli to use their work cards. In return, they received a minimum of $32 in monthly income. They didn¡¯t have to worry about dealing with illegal immigrants¡ªthat was the labor agency¡¯s problem. Their only job was to collect their money each month. Later that morning, Lance had a scheduled meeting with George, a reporter for Jingang Daily. George arrived punctually. He admired Lance deeply, viewing him as a miracle worker. Everything Lance did seemed extraordinary in George¡¯s eyes. After exchanging pleasantries, Lance led George into his office and ordered two iced coffees. ¡°This place is bustling,¡± George remarked, raising his cup in a toast. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯ve chosen such a promising industry.¡± Then, leaning forward, he asked, ¡°So, are you looking to run an ad?¡± Jingang Daily was a heavyweight in the state¡¯s media landscape. While it was technically a local newspaper, it had statewide distribution and a loyal readership. In remote or underdeveloped towns, people often found their local lives dull and preferred to read about the happenings in Jingang City. Some smaller newspapers even bought Jingang Daily stories to reprint. It seemed like the most likely reason Lance would want to meet him. But Lance shook his head. ¡°Have you ever considered doing a feature story?¡± George, sipping his coffee, raised an eyebrow. ¡°On what?¡± The idea intrigued him. ¡°On the difficult lives of illegal immigrants in the Federation,¡± Lance replied. ¡°With elections coming up next month, we all know the president will be re-elected¡­¡± George interrupted with a bitter laugh. ¡°That¡¯s the Federation¡¯s biggest farce. Whether the president gets re-elected has already been decided¡ªlong before we cast our votes. Capital controls everything.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Lance said. ¡°But here¡¯s the thing: the president has promised to address the issue of illegal immigration, even if only in incremental steps. ¡°Before the presidential administration shifts focus to other priorities, we can draw attention to illegal immigrants. This could be a chance for you to make waves¡ªgarnering gratitude from the White House, immigrants, and even the broader public.¡± George¡¯s interest was piqued. He, like any journalist, dreamed of winning the Golden Newspaper Award, the pinnacle of recognition in the Federation¡¯s media industry. To win, a journalist needed to tackle a pressing issue¡ªa topic people couldn¡¯t ignore but often wanted to. The story had to delve deeply into the problem, exposing its core and offering a path toward resolution. Illegal immigration was a perfect angle. What had once been a minor nuisance was now an undeniable social and economic force shaping everyday life. George pulled out his notebook. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m interested. Do you want to co-author the piece?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± George jotted a few notes. ¡°Where do we start?¡± Lance tapped his fingers on the desk. ¡°Right here.¡± George smirked. ¡°So this is an ad for yourself. Clever.¡± He chuckled, adding, ¡°But this kind of ¡®ad¡¯ doesn¡¯t irritate people. Honestly, for a moment, I thought I should pay you to let me put my name ahead of yours.¡± He paused. ¡°When do we begin?¡± ¡°Let me outline my thoughts first,¡± Lance said, wanting to establish a clear direction for the feature. George took detailed notes as Lance spoke, occasionally adding his own ideas. ¡°We¡¯ll start with my labor agency,¡± Lance began. ¡°We provide illegal immigrants with work opportunities by leasing work cards. ¡°Workers¡¯ earnings are divided into three parts: the cardholders get the majority, the agency takes a dollar, and the laborers keep a small portion. ¡°We¡¯ll begin by questioning whether this arrangement is legal and ethical. From there, we¡¯ll explore the tensions and competition between local and immigrant workers to uncover the core issues. ¡°Next, we¡¯ll highlight the dire circumstances many illegal immigrants face. I¡¯ll find you some compelling cases that will captivate readers nationwide. ¡°Our goal is to frame the debate around illegal immigration as a moral issue for the Federation. ¡°Can we, as a civilized society, ignore their plight? Should we stand by as they starve, fall ill, or die? ¡°The more advanced a society is, the more humane it should be. Even if we don¡¯t like them, we must ensure their basic rights to survival.¡± George¡¯s pen flew across the page, his excitement mounting. This could be the story of a lifetime. ¡°If I win the Golden Newspaper Award, I¡¯ll make sure your name is engraved on the base,¡± he joked. ¡°I thought you¡¯d say you¡¯d give it to me entirely,¡± Lance quipped. ¡°Not a chance!¡± George laughed. ¡°I¡¯d sooner let you have dinner with my wife than hand over that award!¡± Lance called Elvin to his office, instructing him to give George a tour. ¡°Show him everything. Have our people cooperate. And find some standout cases among the immigrants we work with¡ªand those we don¡¯t. Make sure the stories are compelling.¡± Elvin nodded. He understood immediately: Lance wanted examples of the most desperate and tragic situations. That afternoon, Jingang City was hit by another rainstorm. The crisp air that followed carried the unmistakable chill of autumn. The old tailor, who had just finished Lance¡¯s new clothes, arrived. The suits didn¡¯t disappoint. Handcrafted to perfection, they bore the tailor¡¯s signature ¡°G¡¤J¡± embroidered discreetly inside the left collar. The fit was impeccable¡ªnot too tight, not too loose, unlike mass-produced garments that were always slightly off. The others in the office stared with envy. But bespoke tailoring took time, and with only three people in the tailor¡¯s workshop¡ªhimself, his daughter, and his son-in-law¡ªit would be a while before they got their turn. Chapter 92: Closer to the Truth... and a Warehouse of Wealth Chapter 92: Closer to the Truth... and a Warehouse of WealthThat afternoon, another round of thunderstorms rolled in, with a rhythm that was almost predictable: CRACK... BOOM... WHOOSH... drip-drip-drip... silence. Some said it was the final thunderstorm of the season, but who could really know? In an upscale apartment in the Bay Area, a woman in her late twenties stretched lazily, waking from an afternoon nap. Dressed in lingerie, she pushed open the window, letting in the cool, post-rain air. On the balcony next door, a young man smoking a cigarette caught sight of her. So entranced was he by the view that he didn¡¯t notice the cigarette burning down to his fingers, scalding him. The woman giggled, throwing him a flirtatious wink before retreating into her apartment. As a kept woman, she lived the envy of many. She didn¡¯t have to work or navigate the soul-sucking drama of office politics. She could nap whenever she felt tired, wake up whenever she pleased, and eat whenever hunger struck. Each month, she received several hundred dollars in spending money. In exchange, all she had to do was provide some occasional ¡°companionship.¡± It was just sex, after all. As feminist activists often proclaimed, ¡°A woman¡¯s body is her own asset. She has the right to decide who gets access to it, when, and how.¡± No one had the right to judge her for using what was hers. She loved this lifestyle. If she could, she¡¯d live this way forever. After returning to her room, she took a shower. Summer naps always left her sweaty. Unlike most Federation citizens, who bathed in the mornings and went to bed dirty after long days of work, she preferred to bathe whenever she felt like it. As she washed, a thought nagged at her. It had been a while since her benefactor, Kent, had last visited. He hadn¡¯t kept his promises lately, either. Because Kent was the one who always initiated contact, she couldn¡¯t reach him. She had no idea what was going on. Still, she wouldn¡¯t reach out herself. Who the hell goes looking to get screwed? She didn¡¯t crave it, and Kent¡¯s performance was average at best. Just then, the doorbell rang. Wrapping herself in a towel, she shouted, ¡°Coming!¡± But the person at the door didn¡¯t seem to hear. From the persistent doorbell ringing to loud pounding on the door, it was clear this visitor wasn¡¯t taking no for an answer. Annoyed, the woman opened the door slightly, keeping the chain lock in place. Outside stood several men. ¡°Who are you looking for?¡± she asked. The man in front spoke, ¡°I¡¯m Kent¡¯s brother. Name¡¯s Will.¡± His calm demeanor made her uneasy. Kent¡ªthe man who funded her comfortable life¡ªwas clearly using her for her looks and body, but she didn¡¯t mind as long as the money kept coming. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen him in a while,¡± she said cautiously, making no move to let them in. Will stared at her. ¡°You sure you want to have this conversation in the doorway, where anyone can hear about you and my brother¡¯s ¡®relationship¡¯?¡± Still skeptical, the woman replied, ¡°I can¡¯t confirm who you are. For all I know, you¡¯re just someone who heard about me somewhere.¡± Will pulled out a photograph of himself and Kent together. ¡°How about now?¡± Her confidence wavered, and Will pressed further. ¡°He¡¯s dead. I need to know a few things.¡± Her expression turned to shock. ¡°Oh my God!¡± She hesitated for a moment before unhooking the chain. ¡°Fine, you can come in¡ªbut not them.¡± She nodded toward the burly men standing behind him. ¡°They¡¯ll stay outside,¡± Will assured her. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Once inside, Will glanced around. ¡°My brother rented this place for you.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. He had already done his research. Sitting on the couch, Will watched as the woman awkwardly adjusted her towel. ¡°I¡¯m going to change,¡± she mumbled, disappearing into the bedroom. When she returned, she was wearing a summer outfit¡ªcomfortable but revealing, with just enough to hint at her figure. Will didn¡¯t seem impressed. ¡°How did he die?¡± she asked. ¡°He was gutted and bled out,¡± Will replied bluntly. ¡°Do you remember him calling you or saying anything unusual in early August?¡± The woman frowned, racking her brain. ¡°Nothing comes to mind.¡± Will¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t have time to waste. This is about finding his killer. Think harder.¡± She squirmed, the news of Kent¡¯s death bringing a wave of anxiety. With him gone, she would lose this apartment and the monthly allowance that funded her carefree life. She had no talents besides her looks. Finding another benefactor like Kent would be nearly impossible. The frustration and fear clouded her thoughts, and all she could think about was how to secure her next sugar daddy¡ªnot anything Kent might have said before his death. Will¡¯s patience snapped. Lunging forward, he grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face against the coffee table. THUNK! She screamed in pain, a large bump swelling on her forehead. Leaning down, Will growled, ¡°Now tell me¡ªdid he say anything?¡± Terrified, the woman stammered, ¡°I don¡¯t know! I don¡¯t know anything!¡± ¡°You spent his money, lived in his apartment, and enjoyed the life he gave you. And now that he¡¯s dead, you claim to know nothing?¡± Will delivered several punches to her face, each one drawing desperate pleas for mercy. The commotion caught the attention of her neighbor, a young man who had admired her from his balcony earlier. Curiosity turned to concern as he heard her screams. Grabbing his baseball bat, he opened his door¡ªonly to find three imposing men in the hallway. They all turned to look at him. One of them casually lifted his shirt, revealing a holstered pistol. The young man froze. Realizing he was no match for them, he quickly stammered, ¡°I was just... going to play baseball.¡± One of the men sneered. ¡°Go back inside, lock your door, and keep quiet. Don¡¯t call the cops, don¡¯t talk to anyone, and forget everything you heard. ¡°Do that, and you won¡¯t get hurt. Understand?¡± The young man nodded frantically, retreating to his apartment and locking the door. Inside, the woman, her face swollen and bloody, suddenly remembered something. ¡°Wait! I remember now!¡± Will stopped mid-stride, lighting a cigarette as he sat back down. ¡°You¡¯d better not waste my time.¡± ¡°Kent called me the last time and said he¡¯d conned a fool out of $1,500. He wanted to take me shopping...¡± Will exhaled a cloud of smoke, slowly rolling up his sleeves. ¡°Do you know who he scammed?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Then tell me the exact day and time,¡± he demanded. The woman provided the details, her voice trembling. Two minutes later, the young man in the neighboring apartment heard screams from the balcony. Racing out, he peered over the edge to see a crowd gathering below. There, lying motionless on the pavement, was his alluring neighbor. From his car, Will watched as blood pooled beneath the woman¡¯s lifeless body. Lighting another cigarette, he ordered the driver to leave. If his brother¡¯s favorite toy couldn¡¯t provide answers, she could at least keep Kent company in hell. The woman¡¯s death soon attracted police attention. They knocked on the young man¡¯s door, but he sat frozen in his apartment, too terrified to answer. By the time officers left, they had concluded the unit was unoccupied. The next day, rumors spread about a depressed woman who had jumped to her death in the Bay Area. In a society hungry for lurid tales, the truth mattered little. People only cared about playing a part in the drama, regardless of how unflattering their role might be. Back in the Imperial District, Will pieced together more of the puzzle. He was getting closer to the truth. If Kent had been scamming someone, it had likely happened at his casino. Will¡¯s advice to his brother had been clear: Don¡¯t leave the casino unless you close it first. And for God¡¯s sake, don¡¯t stir up trouble. Kent hadn¡¯t listened, and now he was dead. But Will was determined to uncover the killer. Meanwhile, Lance, dressed in his new bespoke suit, arrived at Alberto¡¯s office for a meeting. Though unsure of the exact agenda, Lance had a strong hunch: the whiskey. The skyrocketing price of Gold Label Napol¨¦on whiskey had inflated its value to a staggering $500,000. A fortune stored in a warehouse¡ªwealth that could still grow with time. And as Lance stepped into the office, he realized his instincts were spot on. Chapter 93: The Shipment Chapter 93 - The Shipment"Nice outfit!" As soon as Alberto walked in, he commented on Lance''s clothing. "I like the style of this suit. You¡¯ll have to introduce me to your tailor." He stepped away from his desk and shook Lance¡¯s hand warmly. "Tailors in the Federation simply don¡¯t know how to make a decent piece of clothing!" Many people in the Federation disliked wearing tight clothing, which led to increasingly loose designs, especially for men. The tailors here seemed to fall into two extremes¡ªeither they strictly imitated their ancestors¡¯ styles, with clothes so tight they left no room to breathe, or they made boxy, shapeless garments with no sense of structure. Alberto wasn¡¯t a native of the Federation, and he didn¡¯t care for either of these styles. After a bit of small talk, Lance sat down on the sofa. "Have you been following the alcohol market lately?" Alberto asked, offering Lance a cigar. "This is a handcrafted cigar from Sumuli Island¡ªI had it specially made." Lance took it, giving it a sniff. The aroma was rich, with a hint of sweetness. Alberto pulled out his cigar accessories and began preparing one for Lance. His enthusiasm was evident. Lance handed the cigar back to him, watching as Alberto cut and toasted it. "Is the alcohol market in Jingang City really doing that well right now?" Alberto nodded. "Better than you¡¯d imagine. And, you know, my boss¡ªhe¡¯s a big shot¡ªtold me that the Prohibition Alliance is starting to gain significant political clout across the Federation." "Since the implementation of prohibition, production has increased, and crime rates have dropped in many areas. Congress is now planning to enforce a nationwide prohibition mandate." "This is part of a deal tied to the president¡¯s reelection campaign." Previously, prohibition had been implemented only in specific regions on a voluntary basis. The Temperance Alliance, backed by certain factions of the church, politicians, and powerful figures, would form lobbying groups to persuade states to join the movement. No one could be sure if this truly benefited urban development or social progress. But the results were undeniable¡ªproductivity was up, efficiency had increased, and crime rates had fallen. Even the media in Jingang City were saying it: "Our productivity is rising, our work efficiency is improving, and crime is decreasing. Why wouldn¡¯t we support the full implementation of prohibition?!" The Holy Federation is on the cusp of a prohibition-driven renaissance. Anyone opposing it is branded an enemy of the Federation! When the president¡¯s name came up, Lance felt a peculiar sense of irony. Here they were, gnawing on beef that cost less than a dollar, yet fretting over matters of state. "Let¡¯s get back to Jingang City¡¯s alcohol market," Lance said, steering the conversation. Alberto handed him the cigar, and Lance took a puff. Under Alberto¡¯s expectant gaze, he nodded. "A very fine flavor." After a few seconds of silence, Lance couldn¡¯t help but add, "You¡¯re not expecting me to wax poetic about its bouquet and finish, are you?" "Don¡¯t put me on the spot like that!" Alberto looked disappointed. "I thought you¡¯d say something nice about it. Each of these costs more than a dollar fifty!" Lance glanced at the cigar in his hand and took another puff. After savoring it for a moment, he remarked, "Now that you mention its price, I suddenly think it tastes even better!" "Lance, you¡¯re such a waste!" Alberto laughed and lit his own cigar. "The state prohibition mandate has just begun enforcement, and they¡¯re clamping down hard. No external alcohol is getting through right now." "They¡¯ve projected that this strict enforcement will last until at least January 1st. What happens afterward is anyone¡¯s guess. For now, the only alcohol available in Jingang City is from existing stockpiles." "November, December¡ªsixty-plus days. How much alcohol can this city consume in that time?" "The Gold Label Napoleon Whiskey you¡¯re holding is currently priced at about eleven dollars on the market." Forty thousand bottles of whiskey might sound like a lot from an individual¡¯s perspective. But in a city with 1.1 million residents and a constant influx of people due to maritime trade, it¡¯s a drop in the ocean. City Hall had estimated the population at 1.25 million, including short-term residents and those planning to leave soon. Illegal immigrants weren¡¯t counted¡ªthey were officially nonexistent. If they were included, the number would rise to nearly 1.5 million. With 1.5 million people, the demand for alcohol was staggering. Jingang City¡¯s thriving economy meant that people weren¡¯t poor, and the Federation¡¯s citizens had a strong culture of alcohol consumption. Lance hadn¡¯t realized how quickly the value of his alcohol had skyrocketed. At eleven dollars a bottle, forty thousand bottles equated to over $460,000. Businesses with zero production costs were always the most profitable. No wonder capitalists and political families who¡¯d made their fortunes this way had passed laws to prevent others from following in their footsteps. Alberto met Lance¡¯s gaze and said, "Someone wants the alcohol you¡¯re holding." Lance held the cigar between three fingers. "So, you told people I had a large stockpile of alcohol?" His expression didn¡¯t betray any emotion¡ªno anger or displeasure, just the same calm demeanor as before. But Alberto knew that beneath the surface, it was far from calm. He quickly shook his head to avoid any misunderstanding. "No one knows you have alcohol. A couple of days ago, during a family gathering, the big boss brought up the topic. I mentioned that I could source a batch of alcohol, and he was very interested." "The big boss?" Lance asked curiously. "I thought¡­" His expression turned to one of mock disappointment, as if he¡¯d just discovered Alberto was merely a small fry. Alberto couldn¡¯t help but laugh. "Come on, this is the Federation, not our homeland." "Sumulians, Pattians, Grays, Reicheans¡ªand you Imperial folks¡ªplus countless others from around the world. The Federation is a complex place. Surely you know that." "If you paid any attention to the five major families of Jingang City, you¡¯d know that one of them is the Sumulian family, the Pastoreto Family." "Paolo Pastoreto¡ªhe¡¯s my boss." Lance said nothing, so Alberto continued. "Mr. Pastoreto is offering to buy all your Gold Label Napoleon Whiskey at eleven dollars per bottle. He can pay you in cash, bearer bonds, or other assets." "If you want to pay taxes, he can wire the money to you," Alberto added with a laugh. Even if the Investigation Bureau didn¡¯t question how he came to possess such a large stockpile of alcohol, paying taxes on it would cost Lance half of his earnings. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The sheer amount of money caught Lance off guard. Previously, it was just alcohol, so he hadn¡¯t thought about it. But if he wanted to liquidate it, he¡¯d need a plan to manage the $460,000. Should he stash it as dirty money in a vault, bury it underground, or launder it? Money laundering wasn¡¯t simple. Although Lance believed laundering money in this era was relatively easy, doing so with such a large sum quickly would still be challenging. Moreover, the Federation¡¯s tax bureau would inevitably take notice. The Investigation Bureau was less of a concern¡ªeveryone knew their director could be placated. But the tax bureau was a different story. They wanted money, and lots of it. Alberto, noticing Lance deep in thought, offered two suggestions. "If you want cash but also want to spend it, you could hire the Kodak Family to launder it for you¡ªbut their fees are steep." "If you¡¯d rather avoid cash, bearer bonds are a solid choice." Lance ultimately decided on cash, planning to deal with the problem himself. "How will the transaction work?" he asked. "If you want to handle it personally, I can introduce you to Mr. Pastoreto," Alberto said. "If not, you can sell the alcohol to me, and I¡¯ll pass it on to the family." Preferring not to meet the head of a major family over something so specific, Lance chose to sell the alcohol directly to Alberto for a total of $465,000, saving Alberto about a thousand dollars. The cash was an astonishing amount¡ªstacks of ten- and twenty-dollar bills bound with rubber bands. They filled two waterproof gasoline barrels to the brim. Trusting Alberto and unwilling to count the money, Lance accepted it as is. However, the barrels of cash soon presented another problem¡ªhow to store them. For now, he decided to take them home. Buying a secure, reliable house became Lance¡¯s top priority. Alberto, now armed with a massive stockpile of premium alcohol, quickly reported his success to Mr. Pastoreto, who praised him lavishly. A peculiar trend had emerged in Jingang City. Most alcohol hoarders focused on cheap and mid-range products, especially low-end whiskey and Copper Label Napoleon Whiskey. In a way, their choices made sense. When alcohol prices skyrocketed, the average consumer could only afford low-end or inferior products. Mid-range and premium alcohols, on the other hand, were far beyond their reach. At underground bars, a single glass of Gold Label Napoleon Whiskey cost $1.35¡ªand the bar barely broke even. Who could afford that? As a result, the stockpiles of mid-range and high-end alcohol in Jingang City were surprisingly low¡­ Chapter 94: The Growth of the Foolish Son and the Imminent Crisis Chapter 94 - The Growth of the Foolish Son and the Imminent CrisisIn certain shops specializing in alcohol, high-end spirits were often limited to just a few bottles. If a customer needed more, the owner would either contact a supplier or source it from other merchants. High-end alcohol was expensive and tied up significant funds, making it a less attractive choice for profit-driven merchants. The situation in Jingang City was no different. While there was a market for mid-to-high-end alcohol, sales were slower compared to low-end spirits. For merchants, quickly turning over their capital was their ultimate goal. Even a mere 5% profit margin could double their principal if the turnover was fast enough. However, if capital turnover slowed¡ªif the cycle from principal to product to sales revenue dragged on¡ªeven a 100% profit margin wouldn¡¯t compare to the wealth generated by a 5% margin on rapid cycles. This created a unique phenomenon: before the Prohibition went into effect, the merchants who were aware and started stockpiling alcohol overwhelmingly focused on low-end products. Hardly anyone stockpiled high-end alcohol. Even if some did, they might have only hoarded a few hundred or a thousand bottles. Stockpiling more simply wasn¡¯t cost-effective. The reality proved them right. Mid-to-high-end alcohol priced at $5¨C$6 per bottle had doubled to $11. However, the cheapest spirits, which were originally $0.59, had risen to $2¡ªa nearly threefold increase. In recent days, with low-end alcohol still plentiful, its price growth had started to slow. Conversely, high-end alcohol, with its limited stock and steady sales, had seen its price accelerate. Mr. Pastoreto wanted to use this batch of alcohol to establish a foothold in the high-end market. The whiskey Lance had sold to him offered the perfect opportunity. Once acquired, the family wouldn¡¯t sell it immediately. --- While Lance basked in the euphoria of his newfound fortune, someone else shared his joy¡ªperhaps even more exuberantly. Arthur. For the first time, Arthur had made a substantial profit without resorting to underhanded tactics. He couldn¡¯t resist sharing his excitement with his family¡ªthrough unabashed boasting. ¡°I made it big!¡± At the dining table, Arthur gleefully declared his success to his parents. Congressman Williams, however, frowned at Arthur¡¯s lack of composure, disliking how openly he wore his emotions. It made him look like a child, completely devoid of self-restraint. This was precisely why Williams would never consider Arthur as his successor. A person like him would be eaten alive in the political arena, tossed into an oil drum, and dumped into Angel Lake before he even realized it. Williams tapped his knife and fork together, staring at Arthur. ¡°It¡¯s dinnertime. Learn to keep quiet.¡± Across from him, his young and beautiful wife interrupted with a laugh. ¡°Arthur rarely does anything right. Let him have his moment. Besides, it¡¯s just family at the table¡ªno one else.¡± S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Congressman had a soft spot for his much younger wife. Sometimes she felt like a partner, and other times, like a daughter he couldn¡¯t help but indulge. ¡°Fine,¡± he relented. ¡°Here, you make the rules.¡± The woman turned to Arthur, smiling. ¡°Tell me¡ªit¡¯s not just you who made it big. We made it big, right?¡± Arthur froze momentarily, then remembered. His mother had contributed significantly to his second investment. Suddenly wary, he replied, ¡°We agreed I¡¯d give you $30,000.¡± The woman delicately handled her knife and fork. ¡°Did we?¡± Arthur looked incredulous, glancing at his father for support. But Congressman Williams made it clear he had no intention of stepping in. ¡°That¡¯s between the two of you. I know nothing and won¡¯t interfere.¡± The woman blew her husband a kiss across the table, then looked back at Arthur. ¡°We agreed on half. Did you forget?¡± Arthur said nothing, and she adopted a hurt tone. ¡°I raised you all these years, and now, for a little money, you won¡¯t even talk to me?¡± ¡°Besides, am I asking for much?¡± ¡°If it weren¡¯t for my money, you wouldn¡¯t have made a single penny from this, let alone such a big profit!¡± Arthur felt his blood pressure rising. The truth was, the return on this portion of the investment wasn¡¯t as high as he had anticipated. Following Mr. Jobav¡¯s advice, he had stockpiled a large quantity of cheap, low-end spirits. Using some connections through Congressman Williams, he had secured them for $1.35 per bottle. So far, each bottle had yielded just $0.85 in profit, netting him less than $160,000. Initially, he would have only needed to give his mother $50,000. Now, she wanted $80,000. When he thought it through, though, he realized the difference wasn¡¯t as bad as he¡¯d feared. Relenting, he nodded quickly. His mother, pleased by his compliance, asked casually, ¡°How much did you make in total?¡± Arthur¡¯s guard went up immediately. ¡°What do you want?¡± he demanded, raising his voice for emphasis. ¡°That¡¯s my money!¡± The woman turned to Congressman Williams, who dabbed his mouth with a napkin. ¡°Answer your mother¡¯s question.¡± Under the weight of his father¡¯s gaze, Arthur mumbled, ¡°About $500,000.¡± The Congressman was momentarily stunned. ¡°That much?¡± He had expected maybe $200,000 or $300,000 at most, but hearing that his youngest son had made half a million took him by surprise. Then came the critical question. ¡°Where did you get the capital?¡± Arthur explained. ¡°Mom gave me $250,000. I took a $250,000 loan from Mr. Jobav. Then I pawned some of my watches and cars to the bank for about $100,000.¡± ¡°Before that, I had already liquidated all my savings¡ª$200,000. I used it to stockpile a batch of high-end spirits.¡± ¡°All in all, my capital was over $800,000. So, making $500,000 doesn¡¯t seem like much to me.¡± Congressman Williams¡¯ expression turned stern. ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t misuse my name.¡± He paused before continuing. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to go this big. Get rid of everything you have left, as soon as possible.¡± Arthur was baffled. ¡°But they¡¯re saying the prices will rise even more in December! If I sell now, I¡¯ll lose out!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not negotiating, Arthur. This is an order. Do as I say!¡± The Congressman¡¯s tone left no room for argument. Across the table, the woman coughed lightly. ¡°Darling, why not explain to your foolish son why you¡¯re making him do this?¡± Williams hesitated. ¡°I didn¡¯t think he needed to know. As long as he does what I say, the reasoning shouldn¡¯t matter.¡± ¡°But since you brought it up¡­¡± He began explaining. ¡°You¡¯re sitting on too much alcohol. We¡¯ve just joined the Prohibition Alliance. To demonstrate our commitment to those above us, we need to show some results.¡± Arthur¡¯s mother chimed in, ¡°Like catching a few alcohol smugglers.¡± Williams nodded. ¡°Exactly, dear. Catching a few smugglers.¡± ¡°If this were just a small operation, I wouldn¡¯t care how you handled it. But with over a million dollars¡¯ worth of alcohol in your hands, those who already dislike me could report you to the state government. I wouldn¡¯t be able to protect you.¡± ¡°So, for your safety and the family¡¯s, you need to liquidate it all within a week.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve already made $500,000 to $600,000. Don¡¯t let greed ruin you.¡± Arthur wanted to argue¡ªwaiting until December could net him $700,000 or even $800,000. But the look in Williams¡¯ eyes made him reconsider. He lowered his head. ¡°I understand.¡± Williams thought for a moment. ¡°Let James help you offload the alcohol. I¡¯ll ensure every penny goes to you.¡± James, Williams¡¯ eldest son and Arthur¡¯s half-brother, was a rising political star in Jingang City. While the alcohol was a liability, it could also help James build connections with influential people. Arthur started to protest, but he stopped himself. In this family, everything belonged to James, while he was just the dispensable ¡°foolish son.¡± After lunch, Congressman Williams called James. ¡°Your brother has over a million dollars¡¯ worth of alcohol. Help him offload it as soon as possible. You know what I mean.¡± James glanced at Arthur, surprised. In his mind, this fool was only good at causing trouble and making life harder for their father. ¡°What¡¯s with that look?¡± Arthur snapped. ¡°Can¡¯t I make money?¡± James chuckled. ¡°Of course you can. It¡¯s just¡­ hard to believe.¡± His expression seemed to say, The family fool finally grew up. Williams ignored their banter and reiterated, ¡°Be quick. The governor is desperate for attention and will seize any opportunity to make an example. Let¡¯s not become his target.¡± James sobered up. ¡°Understood. I¡¯ll start contacting buyers this afternoon.¡± ¡°By the way, what kind of alcohol is it?¡± ¡°Any high-end stuff?¡± Chapter 95: Small Talk and the Cost of Politics Chapter 95 - Small Talk and the Cost of Politics For the common people, cheap, low-quality whiskey priced under a dollar¡ªideally under fifty cents¡ªwas what they truly needed. But for someone at James¡¯ level, and for the big players he was about to network with, discussing such low-end alcohol was pointless. High-end spirits were the real currency in their circles. Arthur nodded proudly. ¡°My first batch was mid-to-high-end whiskey¡ªGold Label and Deland.¡± James glanced at Congressman Williams, who closed his eyes. In James¡¯ mind, the label of ¡°foolish little brother¡± would never leave Arthur. Arthur didn¡¯t even understand what should be stockpiled first or second. His profit this time was pure luck. If not for having a capable father who warned him in time about Jingang City¡¯s impending Prohibition, Arthur wouldn¡¯t have made a single cent from alcohol. But¡­ he was still a Williams. ¡°Tell me exactly what you have and how much you plan to sell it for,¡± James instructed. ¡°After that, leave the rest to me. Just wait for the money.¡± ¡°Oh, and consult someone about legal ways to avoid taxes. Otherwise, the taxes will kill you.¡± Arthur detailed the inventory, but a thought struck him. ¡°There¡¯s a small issue¡­¡± He scratched his cheek nervously. ¡°I used some of the high-end whiskey as collateral with Jobav¡­¡± James frowned. ¡°Are you planning to use underhanded methods to get your whiskey back?¡± Without waiting for a response, he shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it. Jobav recently invested in a municipal project pushed by the mayor. He¡¯s the mayor¡¯s guy now, so don¡¯t mess with him.¡± ¡°Follow the terms of your agreement.¡± Williams raised an eyebrow. ¡°How much did he invest?¡± ¡°$350,000, plus $100,000 in political donations,¡± James explained. ¡°That¡¯s at least $25,000 per quarter.¡± $450,000. Arthur fell silent. ¡°Understood.¡± After Arthur handed over the relevant documents, James left. His time was valuable, too. --- Back at the company, Lance called his warehouse staff, including Ethan, back from guarding the stockpile. Their return signaled that the alcohol had been sold. Lance didn¡¯t hide the news. ¡°$465,000. I¡¯ll allocate $230,000 to the company account. If you have time, look for a safe and suitable house nearby.¡± ¡°Preferably a townhouse with a yard so we can connect a few of them and make modifications.¡± Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He glanced at Ennio. ¡°You¡¯ll do the legwork. Have Morris drive you.¡± Ennio agreed readily. His arm hadn¡¯t fully healed yet; though he no longer needed a splint, it couldn¡¯t bear weight or take any impact. Running errands was about all he could manage for now. Lance handed them $20 for gas, food, and other expenses. His principle was clear: employees shouldn¡¯t have to spend their own money to subsidize the company. --- Lance spent the afternoon visiting industrial areas to survey the market. The next morning, he went to the Commercial Services Bureau, intending to see Patricia and register a new company. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan this time?¡± Patricia handed him a form. Around them, her colleagues exchanged knowing smiles¡ªsome amused, others envious. As Lance filled out the form, he replied, ¡°I¡¯m registering a clothing company to produce apparel.¡± Patricia raised an eyebrow. ¡°What exactly is your business? Your ventures jump from consulting to labor services to clothing production.¡± Shrugging, Lance explained, ¡°I need at least several thousand pieces of clothing. Even if the profit per piece is only ten cents, that¡¯s still a few thousand dollars.¡± ¡°And I¡¯ll produce more clothes in the future, so why not just open my own factory?¡± ¡°Besides, it¡¯s not expensive.¡± The Jingang City government encouraged the establishment of businesses and factories, as they created jobs for residents. Employment was closely tied to public safety, societal stability, and politicians¡¯ approval ratings, so the administration placed high value on it. Capitalists could pressure the Federation government because they had money, connections, and leverage over officials. But their greatest weapon was controlling employment and income. That power was terrifying. They didn¡¯t even need to openly oppose the government. A simple announcement that a policy would force factories to close or temporarily halt operations would incite workers into a rage, potentially overwhelming the government. Whether necessary or not, having control over jobs offered benefits with no drawbacks. Land outside Jingang City was inexpensive. For a minimal cost, one could acquire it as long as they provided jobs proportional to the land area. If they failed to meet the job quota, they¡¯d incur various fees, as stipulated in the contract. Patricia shook her head after hearing his reasoning. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine why you need so many clothes, but¡­ oh well!¡± ¡°Are you free this weekend?¡± Lance handed her the completed form. ¡°Not sure, but I¡¯ll try to be. I¡¯ll let you know Saturday afternoon.¡± While processing his form, Patricia muttered, ¡°Sunday¡¯s my cousin¡¯s birthday. William is going to the state government, and my mom has a hiking trip with others. I don¡¯t want to go alone.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± Before leaving, Lance asked, ¡°If I wanted land nearby, could William help with that?¡± Patricia shook her head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know. I¡¯m not interested in his work.¡± --- Later, at City Hall, Lance found William in the Public Utilities Office. Seeing the shared workspace with four others, Lance decided to have their conversation outside. Fortunately, the city hall had no strict rules requiring officials to stay at their desks. They went to a coffee shop near the building. ¡°I want to acquire industrial land to open a factory,¡± Lance began. ¡°Who do I talk to about that?¡± ¡°The Land Management Bureau,¡± William answered. ¡°But city hall has people who handle it, too. You¡¯re opening a factory?¡± ¡°A clothing factory,¡± Lance explained briefly. ¡°I¡¯ll save on costs, and when I don¡¯t need production for myself, I can take on external orders. As long as the factory isn¡¯t a financial burden, it¡¯s worthwhile.¡± William was impressed. ¡°That¡¯s a mature and smart idea. Providing jobs will also earn you policy benefits.¡± ¡°Even if you bend a few rules in other areas, having jobs on the line makes things easier to resolve.¡± William had done his research on Lance¡¯s operations. Lance wasn¡¯t breaking laws outright but operated in legal gray areas. He offered small loans, exploiting loopholes in the Usury Act. His labor services circumvented restrictions on work cards. Though not illegal, they weren¡¯t entirely aboveboard either. Providing jobs, however, gave him leverage¡ªeven if his activities drew scrutiny, they¡¯d be easier to resolve. After discussing Lance¡¯s plans, he turned his curiosity to William. ¡°You don¡¯t seem happy at city hall. Others have private offices, but you share yours. Have you considered moving up or changing environments?¡± William responded without bitterness. ¡°I¡¯m a Federation Party member. Here, they care more about political affiliations than competence.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the same everywhere. In Federation Party territories, Liberal Party and Socialist Party members face similar struggles.¡± ¡°And even if I moved to a Federation stronghold, I¡¯d be no better off. Without backing, I¡¯d be seen as a competitor¡ªa threat.¡± ¡°But here, no one sees me as a threat, so I don¡¯t mind.¡± It was resignation, but William embraced it. With the best benefits and welfare of city hall employees, his lack of ambition was enviable to many. ¡°Have you thought about advancing further?¡± William glanced at Lance. ¡°When you¡¯re in a position to help me, we can discuss it. Until then, it¡¯s premature.¡± Unfazed, Lance pressed, ¡°I¡¯m just curious¡ªhow much does it cost to push someone like you up the ladder?¡± William raised an eyebrow. ¡°You must¡¯ve made quite a bit of money.¡± After a moment¡¯s thought, he said, ¡°A few thousand dollars. But it¡¯s meaningless.¡± ¡°Even if I were promoted, I¡¯d still just follow the mayor¡¯s orders instead of making my own decisions.¡± ¡°What about becoming a city councilor?¡± William looked surprised. ¡°Do you have more money than you know what to do with?¡± He explained, ¡°That¡¯s a long-term investment. Jingang City has ten districts. We¡¯d need significant support and votes in one of them.¡± ¡°Once elected, the councilor role costs about $15,000 annually for basic expenses¡ªassuming you do nothing else.¡± ¡°To make an impact, you¡¯d need to host political events, invite influential figures, and so on. Do you know why many city councilors hold their positions for years?¡± ¡°It¡¯s because getting a new councilor elected requires massive investment, with uncertain returns.¡± Draining his coffee, William concluded, ¡°If you want a councilor worth their salt, budget at least $60,000 per year. Every year.¡± Chapter 96: Renting Land and the Duties of Friendship Chapter 96 - Renting Land and the Duties of Friendship Maintaining a city councilor with even marginal value costs about $60,000 a year. This was the figure William offered Lance as a reasonable estimate. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much you¡¯re earning annually, but it¡¯s clear that this is still far off for you,¡± William remarked. ¡°You should focus on stabilizing your current work and broadening your horizons. When you¡¯re wealthier, you won¡¯t need to invest in councilors¡ªthey¡¯ll come looking for you instead.¡± William lowered his voice slightly. ¡°Jingang City¡¯s ten councilors all have ties to the Kodak Family, but none of them were directly pushed into office by Kodak. Do you understand what I mean?¡± Lance nodded. ¡°I understand.¡± Still, understanding didn¡¯t stop him from being direct. ¡°William, I¡¯m speaking hypothetically. If we decided to work toward making you one of them, do you think it¡¯s possible?¡± The caf¨¦, located just across from City Hall, wasn¡¯t low-class. Each coffee came with two biscuits, dotted with chocolate chips¡ªnot soft chocolate or syrup but firm enough to provide a satisfying crunch. The sweetness paired well with the coffee¡¯s bitterness. William popped a biscuit into his mouth. ¡°If I were to run, the Federation Party would likely support me¡ªas long as I didn¡¯t need their funding.¡± He clapped his hands and leaned back in his chair. ¡°Winning would be a pleasant surprise for them. Losing wouldn¡¯t be a regret or a loss. But are you seriously considering this?¡± To be honest, the thought tempted him. Being a ¡°servant¡± in city hall wasn¡¯t nearly as appealing as becoming a city councilor with influence. As a middle-aged Federation man, he still wanted to make a mark. Seeing Lance¡¯s resolute gaze, William felt a surge of motivation. ¡°The party would back me. Several Federation-backed capitalists in Jingang City would also lend support. ¡°But they won¡¯t be pivotal. You know this is Socialist territory. At most, they¡¯d cut me a $200 check, not openly endorse me.¡± ¡°We¡¯d need to carefully choose a district with minimal competition and a higher chance of winning.¡± He paused, narrowing his eyes. ¡°Are you really serious?¡± Lance pulled a cigar from his pocket and tossed it to William. ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m joking?¡± ¡°Tell me, if I wanted to help you become a councilor, what would I need to do?¡± William inspected the cigar thoughtfully. ¡°Money, votes, and publicity.¡± Lance committed these three words to memory, then stood up. ¡°I need to visit the Land Management Bureau. I¡¯ll contact you once I¡¯m ready.¡± Watching Lance¡¯s confident departure, William¡¯s composed demeanor wavered slightly. --- The Land Management Bureau was just a five-minute walk from city hall. After stating his purpose in the lobby, Lance was escorted to an office where a middle-aged man greeted him. What stood out most about the man was his shiny bald head, gleaming under the office lights. ¡°Mr. Lance, all available plots are listed here.¡± He spread out a map, revealing a detailed layout of Jingang City marked with various zones¡ªresidential, commercial, docks, ports, public utilities, and more. The city seemed stylishly organized, divided into tidy, color-coded shapes. The man guided Lance¡¯s attention to the industrial zone in the city¡¯s western area. ¡°This section has pre-developed land with hardened surfaces, basic factory buildings, and accompanying warehouses. If you set up your factory here, you¡¯ll only need to pay rent.¡± ¡°This section, however, is undeveloped land. If you wish to purchase it, you¡¯ll first need to pay the listed price to the city hall.¡± ¡°Additionally, your factory must comply with Jingang City¡¯s industrial management regulations,¡± he added. This primarily referred to fulfilling basic social responsibilities, such as employing workers. ¡°I heard you¡¯re planning to open a clothing factory?¡± The bald man appeared quite talkative, striking up conversation as Lance studied the map. Lance handed him a cigarette. ¡°Any good suggestions?¡± Land prices varied widely. Some plots cost as little as $20 per acre, while others reached nearly $400 for the same area. The disparity was significant. Lance, unfamiliar with the specifics, hoped the bald man could provide some guidance. Lighting the cigarette, the man said, ¡°If you¡¯re not planning a large factory for thousands of workers, my suggestion is to rent our pre-developed industrial plots designed for small businesses.¡± ¡°Here, for example,¡± he pointed, ¡°you¡¯ll pay only $0.10 to $0.20 per square foot in monthly rent. That includes access to all basic facilities, plus a complimentary 100-square-foot warehouse.¡± ¡°As long as your factory¡¯s area doesn¡¯t exceed 2,000 square feet, renting is the best option.¡± Two thousand square feet might not sound like much, but with two square feet per job, it could create 500 positions. If the factory space was used for storage too, it could easily provide 800 jobs¡ªall for just a few hundred dollars a month. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°If you want to buy land and build, these $200-per-acre plots are a good choice. They¡¯re reasonably close to main roads and included in mid-term city development plans. The Planning Bureau has already laid out basic road designs¡ªyou¡¯d only need to follow the construction plans.¡± ¡°For these plots, groundwork is simpler, with no large stones. Any construction company could prepare the site in a month.¡± He continued, explaining how raw land could be transformed into a factory site. Many challenges arose, like road construction. Buying land didn¡¯t grant automatic access to build a road connecting the factory to main arteries. Depending on city plans, additional approvals might be required, or alternate routes might need to be constructed. Then there were utility issues¡ªwater pipes, power lines. Pre-developed areas included these services for free. But undeveloped plots often required upfront investment, which might or might not be reimbursed later. The bald man warned that utilities companies often underpaid for such reimbursements. Cheaper land meant higher costs and longer timelines for development. For large enterprises with vast resources, this wasn¡¯t a concern¡ªthey¡¯d buy thousands of acres, no matter how remote. For small or startup businesses, however, the bald man strongly recommended renting pre-developed plots. Lance extended his hand. ¡°Your advice is invaluable to me. Let¡¯s formally introduce ourselves. I¡¯m Lance. Lance White.¡± The bald man quickly stubbed out his cigarette and eagerly shook Lance¡¯s hand. ¡°John Brown.¡± When Lance slipped a $5 bill into his palm, John¡¯s grin grew so wide it seemed to stretch off his face. Flattered, John became even more enthusiastic, pointing out suitable locations on the map. ¡°Your suggestion is incredibly helpful,¡± Lance said. ¡°If I rent a 1,000-square-foot factory with room for future expansion, where should I start?¡± John marked a few plots on the map. ¡°This spot is ideal. It¡¯s not far from the main road, close to public warehouses, and convenient overall. It¡¯s just a ten-minute walk from the bus station.¡± ¡°Expansion would be easy here, though the rent is a bit higher¡ª$0.18 per square foot. Monthly costs, including other fees, would be around $220.¡± Lance decided quickly. ¡°This one, then. What¡¯s next?¡± John filled out a form for him. ¡°Take this to the Commercial Services Bureau¡­¡± Lance groaned inwardly. He hadn¡¯t expected so many bureaucratic steps. ¡°This is my first time. It¡¯s a bit complicated. Is there a service that handles this for me?¡± John chuckled. ¡°Yes, usually intermediary agencies take care of it. Hardly anyone does it themselves.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have time to find one now. Listen, John, I think we¡¯re going to be good friends. Could you help me with this?¡± John hesitated. ¡°But I have work to do.¡± Lance shut the office door and pulled out a $10 bill. ¡°For coffee.¡± John stared at the money, unable to look away. After a long pause, he smiled and shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m just doing my duty as a friend!¡± Lance grinned back. ¡°Exactly. Who could fault you for that?¡± John soon requested leave¡ªa perk of being a civil servant. With a reasonable excuse, superiors were usually accommodating. His excuse? A stomachache. Two hours off. Chapter 97: Uncertainty and the Labor Union Chapter 97 - Uncertainty and the Labor Union As the weather cooled, life became more bearable for the overweight, sparing them from sweating under the scorching sun. Johnny, his face pale, sat in the consultation room of a pharmacy doctor¡¯s office, handing over a prescription. The doctor glanced at it briefly before looking at Johnny¡¯s arms. ¡°Mind if I take a look?¡± Johnny shook his head. ¡°Of course not, as long as you give me the medicine.¡± The doctor examined Johnny¡¯s fractured arms. The bones were healing well. The radius, being a bone prone to fractures, often broke under forceful impacts, but its recovery wasn¡¯t usually prolonged¡ªeven in someone of Johnny¡¯s age. Functionally, the fractures didn¡¯t interfere much with daily life anymore. Johnny¡¯s grip strength had returned, though the pain he described was peculiar. He reported sudden, excruciating bursts of pain, despite an otherwise normal recovery. The hospital had recently faced some challenges and refused to provide him with painkillers. Instead, his attending physician referred him to this pharmacy. ¡°While I¡¯m not sure why you¡¯re in pain, if you need the medication, I can prescribe it,¡± the doctor said. ¡°You know how to use it?¡± Johnny nodded repeatedly. The doctor wrote the prescription and handed it over. A glance at the price made Johnny exclaim, ¡°This is over a dollar more per dose than at the hospital!¡± The doctor wasn¡¯t surprised. ¡°If you buy it here, it¡¯s not covered under the insurance subsidy. You can either pay me directly, and I¡¯ll give you the medicine, or go back to the hospital for a cheaper price.¡± Remembering the hospital¡¯s refusal, Johnny reluctantly paid. The doctor handed him a few pills and briefly explained the dosage instructions. As Johnny left, the doctor shook his head slightly. He knew the painkillers were somewhat addictive, but he didn¡¯t dwell on it. In fact, most doctors across the Federation didn¡¯t see addiction as their problem. Their focus was on alleviating patient suffering while boosting pharmaceutical sales for profits. They were still considered angels, weren¡¯t they? As for addiction? That was someone else¡¯s concern. Johnny felt an overwhelming sense of relief after taking the painkillers, though he couldn¡¯t explain why. His arms rarely hurt¡ªmaybe 1% of the time¡ªbut the sudden, intense pain made it unbearable. ¡°Probably because they haven¡¯t fully healed yet,¡± he reassured himself. Stepping out of the pharmacy, the sunlight fell on his pale, unhealthy skin. Behind his dazed expression was a deep unease about the city and a fear of what lay ahead. Lance, passing by, thought he saw Johnny for a moment, but by the time he turned to look again, he was too far away. Even if it had been Johnny, Lance wouldn¡¯t have stopped. Lance had just finished a call with Vaughn, arranging a meeting. The ever-generous Vaughn agreed readily. They met at a caf¨¦ outside the docks, not far from the Dockworkers¡¯ Union and Lance¡¯s labor agency. ¡°My colleagues asked me to thank you,¡± Vaughn began. ¡°They loved the coffee you sent.¡± Lance couldn¡¯t tell if he was being sincere, but he didn¡¯t care much either. ¡°You can take more with you today. I noticed they have donuts here. Perhaps your colleagues would enjoy those with their coffee.¡± After they were seated and had their coffee, Lance shared his current plans. ¡°I¡¯m setting up a clothing factory and need skilled workers. I¡¯m not familiar with that sector¡ªyou know, the docks don¡¯t have such labor.¡± The docks primarily employed heavy laborers with little to no technical skills. Vaughn joked, ¡°The Federal Warden probably knows more skilled sewers than I do!¡± It took Lance a moment to catch on. ¡°Very funny.¡± Embarrassed, Vaughn quickly changed the subject. ¡°I can¡¯t help with this, but I can introduce you to someone from the Labor Union.¡± The Labor Union (LU), famous for its slogan ¡°Workers Unite,¡± was a monumental force in Federation politics and industry. Composed entirely of skilled laborers, the LU wielded immense influence across light and heavy industries alike. In many sectors, particularly heavy industry, the LU was indispensable. A factory without skilled workers couldn¡¯t operate. If the LU decided to sanction a factory, a mass strike by skilled workers would immediately bring production to a halt. Only capitalists willing to risk total losses by cutting ties with the LU and forgoing skilled labor could resist their influence. For heavy industries, this was nearly impossible. Operating without skilled labor was so inefficient that owners would rather shut down the factory entirely. In this period, the LU and trade unions were at the height of their power, even influencing presidential elections. As the Dockworkers¡¯ Union Vice President, Vaughn naturally had strong ties with the LU, given their shared goals and frequent collaborations. Vaughn began jotting down contact information, but Lance stopped him. ¡°If you¡¯re not too busy, we could go there together.¡± After a moment¡¯s thought, Vaughn agreed. Currently, there were no significant conflicts between dockworkers and capitalists. Most tensions were with illegal immigrants, so Vaughn was free to leave. Before heading out, Lance called over the server. ¡°Deliver 12 coffees and 12 donuts to this address¡­ The rest is a tip.¡± He handed over $5, enough to cover the cost with about 70¨C80 cents left as a tip. What puzzled Lance was the server¡¯s hesitation to leave. Instead, they stared at Vaughn. Awkward, Vaughn cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯m full today.¡± The server finally left. Lance shot him a questioning look, but Vaughn avoided explaining the last time Lance had left, and he had used leftover tips to order a double-decker burger. ¡°Sometimes I grab lunch here,¡± Vaughn said weakly. ¡°Our mealtimes aren¡¯t fixed.¡± It was a decent excuse, and Lance didn¡¯t press further. They soon left for their meeting. On the way, Lance asked casually, ¡°Vaughn, do you know who reported us?¡± ¡°I mean no offense. I¡¯d just like to talk to them. We¡¯re all workers¡ªwe should be brothers, not enemies.¡± ¡°Maybe I can convince them, which would also save you a lot of trouble.¡± Lance had asked Elvin to investigate, but Elvin lacked connections among native workers, as his network mostly consisted of immigrants and illegal workers. Since native workers and immigrants rarely mingled, Elvin had hit a dead end. Vaughn hesitated. Lance continued, ¡°Lately, I¡¯ve been thinking. Politicians have deliberately stoked divisions to fuel the anti-immigration wave.¡± ¡°We believe every worker is inherently good and innocent. We shouldn¡¯t let capitalists and politicians manipulate us. I¡¯ll do my best to convince them.¡± ¡°You know I¡¯m a Federation citizen. When it matters, I¡¯ll stand with the Federation.¡± The mention of being a ¡°Federation citizen¡± seemed to sway Vaughn. Finally, he relented. ¡°The list is in my office. I¡¯ll get it for you when we return.¡± ¡°Thanks!¡± Lance said with a smile. The Labor Union¡¯s industrial branch was located on the other side of town. By the time they arrived, it was late afternoon, but fortunately, the office hadn¡¯t closed. Vaughn, well-acquainted with the staff, led Lance to an office marked Textile Workers Liaison Office. Beneath the sign was the name Debbie Jones¡ªclearly a woman. ¡°Come in!¡± a female voice called. Vaughn glanced at Lance before opening the door and gesturing for him to enter first. The office was modest but well-furnished. Behind the desk sat Debbie, appearing to be in her mid-thirties. She wore her hair in a headband and a polka-dot puff-sleeve dress. Her golden-brown hair and professional attire gave her an air far removed from a typical laborer, much like Vaughn. It was ironic, Lance thought. Those representing the working class often seemed least like workers themselves. But who cared? The less she resembled a laborer, the easier it might be to negotiate with her. Debbie smiled warmly as Vaughn entered, even standing to greet him¡ªa clear sign of respect. ¡°How can I help you, Vice President Vaughn?¡± Vaughn laughed heartily and shook her hand. ¡°That title sounds too grand for me. I wouldn¡¯t dare accept it.¡± Their banter suggested a longstanding familiarity, though Lance couldn¡¯t quite grasp the dynamic. Vaughn introduced Lance. ¡°My friend and fellow worker, Lance. He runs a labor agency that helps people find jobs.¡± Debbie¡¯s eyes lit up, and she eagerly shook Lance¡¯s hand. For those serving the working class, someone providing employment opportunities was always welcome. ¡°Call me Debbie. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lance.¡± S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 98: Miscellaneous Affairs, Houses, and the Pursuit of Security Chapter 98 - Miscellaneous Affairs, Houses, and the Pursuit of Security "Call me Lance," he said, shaking Debbie¡¯s hand lightly. "It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you as well, ma¡¯am." Debbie was impressed with Lance, and she warmly invited them to sit. "Can I get you something to drink?" Vaughn glanced at Lance, who smiled. "We just had coffee before coming here, so I¡¯m good, thank you. What about you, Mr. Vaughn?" "Vaughn!" Vaughn corrected firmly. He cared about being addressed by his name. "I¡¯ll pass as well, thanks!" Debbie then sat opposite them and got to the point. "So, gentlemen, what brings you here?" Vaughn nodded toward Lance, who explained, "I¡¯ve rented a plot of land near the industrial area and plan to open a clothing factory. However, I¡¯ve never done this before, so I need skilled workers." Debbie perked up. "How many jobs are you creating at the factory?" "About 150," Lance replied. "Are you providing materials for production, or is it outsourced? In other words, are you taking orders to manufacture for others or producing for yourself?" "For myself," Lance clarified, adding, "The situation at the docks has been a bit complicated recently. After discussing it with Vaughn, I decided to avoid potential issues by introducing something practical." "I plan to produce easily identifiable uniforms for¡­ well, you know, immigrants and illegal workers." "My goal is to encourage them to take their work and lives more seriously while making it easier to manage things at the docks." Vaughn chimed in, "Yes, we¡¯ve studied the idea and believe it could work wonders." Debbie was intrigued. "Uniforms, you say? Interesting. Will they be free?" Lance nodded. "Denim or industrial-grade fabric¡ªit won¡¯t cost much. I¡¯ll cover the expense. I want to contribute in some way." Debbie offered a thoughtful compliment. "A noble ideal!" She paused. "You¡¯re a Federation citizen, right?" Despite being a free country, the distinction between native-born citizens and immigrants still mattered to some. "Yes, I have a social security number," Lance replied. Debbie¡¯s smile became warmer and more genuine. "I can connect you with about twenty skilled workers, but I¡¯d recommend hiring only five to ten at first." "For a small factory, that¡¯s enough. Group the workers and appoint these skilled individuals as supervisors to help others learn their tasks." "Their main role would be teaching rather than direct production." After thinking briefly, she continued, "If you¡¯re providing all the materials yourself, you¡¯ll need at least one experienced cutter to turn the fabric into garment ¡®pieces.¡¯ That¡¯s the most critical step." "Additionally, you¡¯ll need three sewing machine operators, one senior pattern maker, and one ironing and finishing specialist¡ªabout ten workers in total." She stood and fetched pen and paper from her desk. After doing some quick calculations, she explained, "The monthly wages for these ten workers will come to about $900. Does that work for you?" "That¡¯s not cheap," Lance thought. Skilled workers¡¯ wages were equivalent to those of 25 regular laborers. Yet their role was essential, as they determined the quality of the factory¡¯s products. "No problem," Lance confirmed. Debbie exhaled with relief. "That resolves the trickiest part. Are you planning to have workers at every position on the assembly line?" S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "If your production isn¡¯t very high, we could reduce the number of sewing machine operators and bring the total workforce to about fifty." Lance interrupted, "I¡¯ll arrange for fifty regular workers myself. You know I already have a lot of laborers." "But I can offer thirty jobs to the Labor Union." Though primarily focused on skilled workers, the LU still cared about regular laborers. These positions helped strengthen their influence, even if indirectly. Debbie nodded. Thirty jobs were no small concession. "On behalf of those workers, I thank you for your generosity!" Vaughn was pleased with the arrangement. Skilled workers rarely struggled to find jobs if they weren¡¯t too picky about wages. What truly caught Debbie¡¯s attention were the thirty positions for regular laborers. Such jobs required no experience and carried significant influence. The parties quickly finalized their cooperation. Debbie even provided a list of fabric suppliers, as the LU maintained deep ties with many industries, including supply chains. She advised Lance to buy second-hand or even third-hand sewing machines. "As long as they work, they¡¯ll suffice. When your factory grows, you can consider investing in new equipment." Debbie also offered to help secure orders for Lance if his production capacity exceeded his needs. Vaughn subtly hinted that such orders usually required kickbacks, or "finder¡¯s fees." Lance had no objections. Securing orders was valuable in itself, and he was happy to pay the going rate for such assistance. This pleased Debbie, as no one would object to additional income. After negotiating, Debbie outlined a basic cost estimate for Lance: - Wages: $2,650 per month for 50 regular workers and 10 skilled workers, including bonuses. - Equipment: $15 per second-hand sewing machine, totaling around $1,200 for all necessary tools. - Initial Setup: Factoring in the simple factory building, materials, and other costs, the total would be around $4,000. - Raw Materials: At least $2,000 for fabric and consumables. In total, Lance would need $7,000¨C$8,000 to start production, with monthly operating costs of roughly $3,000. Debbie observed Lance¡¯s composed expression. Seeing no sign of stress, she gained a rough sense of his financial capacity. By the time they wrapped up, night had fallen. Lance wanted to thank Debbie with dinner, but she declined, citing other commitments. Lance returned to the docks with Vaughn, who handed him a list before parting. "Don¡¯t let anyone know about this. If you can¡¯t handle them, don¡¯t act recklessly. Very few people know about this." Lance assured Vaughn he¡¯d keep things quiet. That evening, Lance returned home to find his team reviewing materials Ennio had brought back. They made space for Lance on the sofa, where he began studying the brochures. ¡°These are all row houses,¡± Ennio explained. ¡°They include images of the front, back, and sides. With some simple modifications, we could connect a few of them.¡± He added, "I asked the manager, and these houses allow tall plants." Some communities imposed strict height limits on plants, requiring them to be trimmed to a certain height or removed entirely. Violations could even lead to eviction. Different communities had different rules, ranging from lawn color requirements to seasonal maintenance standards. For example, some demanded lawns remain vibrant green year-round. In winter, homeowners often resorted to painting their lawns¡ªa cheaper solution than replacing grass. The next morning, Elvin knocked loudly on Lance¡¯s bedroom door, rousing him from sleep. By the time Lance emerged, the team members who didn¡¯t have work that day were ready to go. For them, this would be their first true "home" in the Federation, and they were excited. Lance, sandwich in hand, climbed into the car. After visiting four communities, they settled on one offering high privacy. The sales manager noted that residents could even install electric fences if desired. The community sold plots of land, including blueprints and construction materials. For an additional fee, they could handle construction, but Lance opted for the DIY route, valuing the flexibility. Each plot was 300¨C350 square meters, priced at $4,500¨C$5,000. It wasn¡¯t cheap but still reasonable. Lance purchased five adjacent plots outright. Impressed, the sales manager waived three years of management fees. Initially, the manager offered to arrange construction, but the team insisted on building the houses themselves. For them, nothing felt more secure than creating their own home. As they celebrated their progress, a stark contrast loomed: wealthy, legal immigrants like Jobav felt less secure despite their status and resources. Meanwhile, Lance¡¯s group, still lacking full legal residency, had begun to find their footing. Chapter 99: Trouble Brewing Chapter 99 - Trouble Brewing The skyrocketing prices of alcoholic beverages surprised no one, but the speed of the increase exceeded expectations. Other states that had joined the Prohibition Alliance had experienced price hikes as well, but the growth had been gradual at first. People were unsure how far the alliance would spread or how strictly the rules would be enforced. Now, however, things were different. It looked like Prohibition would soon become part of the Federal Constitution. Once it did, no state could circumvent it. Speculation ran rampant: when nationwide Prohibition was enacted, alcohol prices across the Federation would reach unprecedented heights. Just a few days ago, the President had alluded to the matter at a private party, mentioning discussions with the Speaker of the House and the Senate Majority Leader about implementing a nationwide Prohibition. Though he hadn¡¯t explicitly stated he would sign the measure, his tone, expressions, and manner of speaking led many to believe he had already made up his mind. The delay seemed to hinge on the outcome of the midterm elections. This wasn¡¯t just legislation¡ªit was leverage in a broader political deal. The midterms, set for November, should have been a lively ¡°social event,¡± yet this year¡¯s elections had unusually low engagement. While some groups accused the government of conspiracies, their protests barely made a ripple. The President¡¯s four years in office hadn¡¯t brought much improvement to the Federation, but he had achieved one critical goal: he hadn¡¯t made things worse. That alone was enough to secure reelection, barring an exceptionally strong opponent. His main challenger, however, had dropped out of the race in late August, ostensibly due to other pressing matters. This left the President effectively unopposed, and election fervor waned over the next two months. With the midterms approaching, nationwide Prohibition seemed imminent. Meanwhile, breweries in regions not yet part of the Prohibition Alliance ramped up production of high-proof alcohol, hoping to exploit the gap before federal enforcement. Major distributors were wiping their records clean, and even the breweries themselves were stockpiling supplies in anticipation of the ¡°crazy times¡± ahead. For Mr. Jobav, this was a nightmare. His warehouse of tens of thousands of bottles had dwindled to just 2,000, most of which were low-grade gin¡ªnot exactly premium stock. If Arthur demanded to redeem the whiskey he had pledged as collateral, Jobav would be in serious trouble. He didn¡¯t want trouble, but trouble always found him. ¡°Mr. Jobav, young Mr. Williams would like to see you,¡± his assistant announced, knocking at the office door. ¡°Young Williams?¡± Jobav blinked in confusion. ¡°James,¡± the assistant clarified. While some found the title ¡°young Williams¡± derogatory¡ªemphasizing one¡¯s identity as merely ¡°so-and-so¡¯s son¡±¡ªJames wasn¡¯t offended. For most, being referred to as ¡°young Williams¡± implied prestige, something tied to a respected figure like Congressman Williams. It wasn¡¯t a label anyone could earn. If your father wasn¡¯t someone important, the title became a mockery. After hesitating, Jobav sighed and nodded. ¡°Let him in.¡± James and Arthur were brothers, but their reputations couldn¡¯t have been more different. James was widely regarded as the heir apparent to Congressman Williams, with a sterling r¨¦sum¨¦ to match. After graduating from a prestigious university, he had become the Congressman¡¯s trusted assistant. In recent years, James had increasingly handled his father¡¯s public responsibilities, earning a strong reputation in Jingang City¡¯s elite circles as humble, refined, and well-mannered¡ªthe complete opposite of his brother. Two minutes later, James entered, impeccably dressed. ¡°Mr. Jobav, thank you for making time to see me,¡± James said, handing his coat and hat to the assistant, who hung them neatly on a rack. ¡°Something to drink?¡± Jobav offered with a smile. ¡°No, thank you,¡± James replied, taking a seat on the sofa. Jobav joined him. ¡°I¡¯m here to discuss the alcohol Arthur pledged as collateral,¡± James began. ¡°He¡¯s authorized me to handle the matter fully.¡± He handed over the documentation. ¡°According to this, there are about 42,000 bottles of Gold Label Napoleon Whiskey and 3,500 bottles of gin.¡± Though less valuable than whiskey, the gin was easier to sell due to its lower price point. Forcing a smile, Jobav took the documents and skimmed them, despite being intimately familiar with their contents. ¡°No problem. Have you brought the payment?¡± he asked, returning the papers. James didn¡¯t notice anything unusual in his demeanor. ¡°As you know, it¡¯s a substantial sum. Arranging the funds will take a few days, but we¡¯ll transfer them to your account by next week.¡± ¡°Before that, I¡¯d like to inspect the warehouse,¡± James added. It wasn¡¯t that he distrusted his brother, but Arthur¡¯s reliability¡ªor lack thereof¡ªwas well-known. ¡°Of course, that¡¯s a reasonable request,¡± Jobav agreed, signaling to his assistant. ¡°Prepare the car.¡± The assistant hurried off, and as they waited, Jobav struck up small talk about recent events in Jingang City. After a frustrating delay of over ten minutes, the car was finally ready. Jobav lost his temper, but James reassured him with a few kind words, noting that conversing with a successful banker like Jobav was always a valuable experience. James¡¯ polished demeanor contrasted sharply with Arthur¡¯s crassness, but it made Jobav uneasy. The more refined a Federation citizen appeared, the deadlier their metaphorical knives. The drive to the warehouse should have taken twenty minutes, but the car broke down halfway. Another vehicle had to be called, dragging the journey out to over an hour. When they finally arrived, the warehouse matched the location Arthur had mentioned. Jobav opened the doors to reveal towering stacks of alcohol. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Tens of thousands of bottles, neatly arranged, were an awe-inspiring sight. At that moment, they weren¡¯t just alcohol¡ªthey were resources, liquid cash. Even James, usually composed, was briefly breathless. Approaching the stacks, he turned to Jobav. ¡°May I inspect one?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Jobav replied. James picked up a bottle and examined it. Gold Label Napoleon Whiskey was highly recognizable. Each bottle featured a unique embossed medallion below the neck, indicating its grade: bronze, silver, or gold. Twisting the cap open, he sniffed the whiskey and smiled. It was genuine. ¡°Everything is here?¡± Jobav nodded. James¡¯ mood improved instantly. Everyone knew the value of this stock would rise again soon. Even selling it at current prices would curry favor with buyers, as he¡¯d be giving them a chance to profit. ¡°Mind if I take this bottle?¡± James asked, holding up the opened whiskey. ¡°Of course, it¡¯s on me,¡± Jobav replied with a smile. ¡°Thanks, but business is business,¡± James said. He turned to his assistant. ¡°What¡¯s the current price for Gold Label?¡± ¡°$11.55 per bottle.¡± James handed over a $10 bill, two quarters, and a nickel, placing them in Jobav¡¯s hand. ¡°Cash on the barrelhead!¡± Though Jobav maintained a polite smile, it faltered briefly. Federation citizens like James were always pleasant on the surface but guarded underneath. After James left, Jobav sat in uneasy silence. Eventually, he picked up the phone and called the mayor. He had invested heavily in the mayor for precisely this reason¡ªto have protection when trouble arose. But as he realized, he had underestimated the shamelessness of Federation politicians. Chapter 100: Who Can Save Me? Chapter 100 - Who Can Save Me? The mayor of Jingang City still had two years left in office, and he intended to use this time to secure as many political resources as possible. Jingang City, one of the engines of the Federation''s economic growth, garnered widespread attention. As long as this attention remained, the mayor¡¯s accomplishments would continue to be revisited. Much like the mayors who expanded the city¡¯s first and second docks, their contributions were still celebrated today. Even if some of them had passed away, their children continued to enjoy the political benefits of their legacy. The current mayor wanted the same. However, expanding the docks, while beneficial for economic growth, wouldn¡¯t necessarily yield him any political advantages. In politics, it was always better to be the first or second to accomplish something. Nobody remembered the third or fourth. Thus, the mayor planned to focus on urban expansion. Jingang City¡¯s permanent population was currently around 1.1 million, but population data in the Federation was often inaccurate and infrequently updated. His goal was to increase the population to 1.5 million within two years. This would require expanding the urban area while creating new jobs for the incoming residents. Supporters of the mayor were already heavily invested in urban expansion plans. Funds from contributors like Mr. Jobav were being funneled into infrastructure development. Though these contributions were relatively small, the mayor had plans to squeeze more out of the "Imperial banker." While mulling over city expansion strategies, the mayor¡¯s phone rang¡ªit was Jobav. The mayor only referred to him as ¡°the Imperial¡± when he wasn¡¯t around, never as ¡°Banker Jobav.¡± "What can I do for our esteemed banker?" the mayor answered warmly, his tone oozing politeness despite his unchanged expression. "I¡¯d like to meet with you," Jobav requested. The mayor glanced at his schedule. "I can see you at 3:30 this afternoon. You¡¯ll have ten minutes." He hung up without waiting for a response. At 3:00 PM, Jobav arrived at City Hall and waited outside the mayor¡¯s office. By 3:30, he was allowed in. The mayor was by the window, smoking a cigarette. Smiling broadly, the mayor walked over and clasped Jobav¡¯s arm. "Some things can really be handled over the phone, you know," he said, though his tone hinted at irritation. Nobody knew what was going through Jobav¡¯s mind, but his emotions must have been complex. Despite his significant financial contributions, he was still treated as an outsider. Sitting stiffly on the sofa, Jobav noticed the absence of even a customary cup of coffee. Ten minutes wasn¡¯t long enough for a drink, after all. "This is the situation¡­" Jobav explained how he had been swindled¡ªArthur¡¯s pledge of alcohol as collateral had vanished. The mayor gave him a curious look. "Why didn¡¯t you speak up at the time?" Back then, Jobav had inspected the warehouse with Arthur and confirmed the alcohol was genuine before signing the contract and disbursing the loan. But on the day the alcohol was delivered, a sudden downpour created a short window of opportunity¡ªjust 30 or 40 minutes¡ªfor the entire stock to disappear. At the time, Jobav wasn¡¯t aligned with the mayor¡¯s faction and feared this might be a setup by Arthur. So, he hesitated, choosing a passive response. That hesitation cost him. From the mayor¡¯s perspective, this was the behavior of someone afraid of being extorted. If Jobav had taken a stand, perhaps even reporting the incident to the authorities, he might have avoided becoming an easy target. "Now, what do you want to do?" the mayor asked. Jobav clenched his fists, his frustration evident. "I¡­ I want you to mediate so I can clear this up with them." The mayor thought for a moment. "Mediating isn¡¯t difficult, but you won¡¯t get your money back." "You¡¯ve already given them a $250,000 loan, correct?" Jobav nodded grimly. The mayor continued, "This stock of alcohol is worth $450,000 to $500,000 now. If you cover the difference, we can treat it as you purchasing the stock. I¡¯ll help settle things, and that¡¯ll be the end of it." Jobav¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. "But I¡ª" "No buts, Jobav. You have a signed contract. Even if you take this to court, you won¡¯t win." "And don¡¯t think a few words from me will make them give up $200,000 in profits. If I had that kind of influence, I¡¯d be the Federation President by now." "Think it over," the mayor said, glancing at his watch. "I have another meeting shortly, so¡­" Dismissed, Jobav stood up in a daze, mechanically muttering his goodbyes as he left the office. The mayor felt no sympathy for Jobav¡¯s plight. Over the years, countless foreign magnates had entered the Federation, only to lose everything. Even wealthier and more influential individuals had been driven out. For a minor banker like Jobav, being extorted was just part of the game. Still, the mayor decided he would call Congressman Williams to remind him to keep his son Arthur in check. Scaring off foreign investors wasn¡¯t in the city¡¯s best interest. From the mayor¡¯s perspective, his handling of the situation was perfectly reasonable. Demanding Arthur return the money while ignoring the missing alcohol would have been absurd. And even if intervention became necessary, the mayor would only step in at the critical moment, appearing as a savior¡ªnot through a mere phone call or casual meeting. Returning to his villa, Jobav slumped onto the sofa, overwhelmed with despair. In recent years, he had finally accumulated some wealth and sought to enter the Federation¡¯s upper echelons. But now, his vast fortune was rapidly dwindling. Worse, he remained an outsider, stuck on the fringes of high society. If the money had bought him a place at the table, it might have been worth it. But losing everything while still being treated as a nobody? It made no sense to him. Wasn¡¯t the Federation supposed to be a land of fairness and justice? Why did his experiences feel so unfair? S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His assistant stood nearby, worried about his state. Normally, even when facing extortion, Jobav would display resilience. But today, he seemed utterly defeated, like an impoverished old man, staring blankly ahead with disheveled hair. By 7:00 PM, Jobav finally snapped out of his stupor. "What time is it?" he asked. "Seven eleven," his assistant replied nervously. "Should I prepare some food for you?" Jobav shook his head. "No, I can¡¯t eat." Turning to the assistant, he asked, "In your opinion, who could solve this problem for me? Someone who could minimize my losses?" "Preferably someone from the Empire¡ªI¡¯ve completely lost faith in the Federation. They invite me to sit at their table not to share the feast but to make it easier to serve me up as the meal." The assistant wracked his brain. Many successful Imperial expats lived in Jingang City, but few could match Jobav¡¯s wealth or influence. Then, suddenly, a name came to him. Seeing the change in his assistant¡¯s expression, Jobav asked softly, "Who is it?" When Lance received word that Mr. Jobav wanted to meet him, he was intrigued. The last time they crossed paths, at St. Naya¡¯s Cathedral, Jobav had only greeted him in passing, with no intention of conversation. Why the sudden interest now? Lance couldn¡¯t figure it out but agreed to meet. The meeting was set for the afternoon, as Lance had a busy morning. He needed to visit his company and meet with Mr. White, who had asked Officer Brayden to arrange the meeting. Lance still relied on Mr. White to maintain his identity as a legal Federation citizen¡ªa status that had brought him immense convenience. Those in power always checked whether someone was a Federation citizen before discussing cooperation. Lance wasn¡¯t about to risk losing this privilege. The next morning, Lance handed the whistleblower list to Elvin before heading to Mr. White¡¯s house. When he arrived, Mr. White was in the yard, pulling weeds. He seemed confused as Lance¡¯s car pulled up, but when he saw who it was, confusion turned to shock¡ªfollowed quickly by delight. Chapter 101: Different Perspectives, Different Attitudes Chapter 101 - Different Perspectives, Different Attitudes Mr. White looked at Lance, unsure how to address him. Lance took the lead, easing the tension. "Just call me Lance." Stepping into the yard, Lance pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Care for one?" Seeing the elegant packaging, Mr. White hesitated briefly before nodding. "Of course..." He eyed Lance cautiously, "Lance?" Lance didn¡¯t hold any particular fondness or dislike for Mr. White. If his feelings could be quantified, Mr. White would get a passing grade. This was because Mr. White had accepted Lance¡¯s scheme to assume a legal Federation identity¡ªa move not everyone could stomach, especially one involving taking the place of a deceased child. For those deeply sentimental, this was an unthinkable decision, even for families in financial difficulty. Such actions would symbolically mean accepting the death of their child, even without seeing a body¡ªan agonizing concession. For Mr. White to agree made him practical, if nothing else, which earned Lance''s reluctant respect. "Yes, that¡¯s me," Lance said, walking over. He took out two cigarettes for himself, then handed the rest to Mr. White. "Officer Brayden said you were looking for me." Mr. White took the cigarettes and slipped the pack into his pocket. "I didn¡¯t have your contact information, so I had to go through Brayden." Lance slapped his forehead. "I forgot about that. Do you have a pen and paper?" "Yes." Lance jotted down a number. Since he was moving to a new house, the old number was no longer valid. He also left the contact information for both of his companies. "If you can¡¯t reach me directly, just leave a message with them. I¡¯ll get back to you." Lance then gestured for Mr. White to explain. "So¡­ why were you looking for me?" After a pause, Mr. White finally said, "I¡¯m a bit embarrassed, but I need to borrow some money, Lance." "Borrow money?" Mr. White glanced at the darkened windows of his house. "My wife is sick. I need to pay for her treatment." Lance didn¡¯t ask if the $200 he¡¯d previously given was gone. Instead, he inquired about Mrs. White¡¯s condition. "What happened to her?" Mr. White¡¯s tone was unnervingly calm. "She fell while going into the basement. Multiple fractures. She¡¯s barely hanging on." "The money you gave me before is almost used up. The doctors say if I can¡¯t pay the balance, they might stop treatment." Lance frowned. "Don¡¯t you have insurance?" Mr. White shook his head slightly. "She doesn¡¯t." That complicated things. "She¡¯s in the hospital now?" "Yes." "How much do you need?" Lance asked, moving toward the backyard. Though the sun wasn¡¯t as harsh as in recent months, the front yard still felt stifling. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The backyard offered a refreshing shade under a grove of small trees and shrubs, though it was notably unkempt¡ªfallen leaves littered the ground, some already decaying. "Wait!" Mr. White suddenly called out as Lance walked further in. Lance stopped and turned, his expression puzzled. Mr. White hesitated. "I mean, we can sit and talk inside instead." Lance glanced at the darkened house, his brows furrowing slightly. He stayed where he was, under the shade of a tree. "No, I have errands later. Just tell me how much you need." "About $300," Mr. White said, apologetically. "I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll pay you back." Lance exhaled a long drag from his cigarette. "Listen, Mr. White. I¡¯ll send someone to the hospital to check on Mrs. White. This money is for her treatment. If you¡¯re lying to me, you¡¯ll regret it. I despise being deceived or extorted. Do you understand?" Mr. White¡¯s face paled, and he nodded quickly. "Of course. I promise." After scrutinizing him for a moment, Lance wrote a check for $350 and handed it over. "Use the extra for some good food¡ªfruits, beef. Tell her I¡¯ll visit when things settle down on my end." Ignoring Mr. White¡¯s repeated thanks, Lance returned to his car. From inside, he glanced back at the house. Something felt off. A shadow flitted across an upstairs window, but when Lance looked again, it was gone. Rubbing his eyes, he dismissed it as a trick of the harsh sunlight. Still, he instructed Morris to verify Mr. White¡¯s story. If it turned out to be a ploy, Lance figured the rising waters of Angel Lake would soon become an even bigger mystery. After a quick lunch at his company, Lance gathered his team and posted a notice at the office entrance. The announcement stated that all workers registered with Wanli Labor Services, particularly undocumented immigrants, would be required to wear standardized uniforms starting mid-November. The first set of uniforms would be free, but replacements for lost or damaged clothing would cost $1 per set. While not prohibitively expensive, $1 was significantly more than the 20¨C30 cents charged for second-hand clothes sold near the docks. In fact, $1 could buy three items there. Despite this, many were pleased with the free uniform, especially the newcomers. After lunch, Lance took a brief nap. By 2:00 PM, he was at Mr. Jobav¡¯s office. The banker looked worse than ever. Though outwardly unchanged, a weariness had settled over him, an air of defeat that hadn¡¯t been there before. "Please, have a seat," Jobav said, gesturing toward the sofa. He turned to his assistant. "Bring us some drinks." As the assistant poured the drinks, Lance noted the heavy sigh that escaped Jobav¡¯s lips. "You look unwell. Has something happened?" Lance asked after they exchanged pleasantries. "Something? Everything is wrong," Jobav replied bitterly. He took a sip of his drink. "I¡¯m facing a serious problem. It¡¯s not just the money I stand to lose¡ªthough that¡¯s no small matter¡ªbut the attitude of the Federation people." "I don¡¯t know who to trust anymore or who can help me. After much thought, I realized you might be the one." Lance kept his expression neutral, though inwardly amused. "If someone as prominent as you can¡¯t fix this, what could I possibly do?" Jobav downed his drink and motioned for another, though his assistant hesitated. "This is your fourth today, sir," the assistant noted. "Just pour it," Jobav snapped, his tone unusually sharp. The assistant complied, pouring only a small amount. Lance leaned back, one leg crossed over the other, deep in thought. Though nobody rushed him, the tension in the room grew palpable. As the minutes ticked by, Jobav¡¯s expression shifted toward disappointment. Clearly, he hadn¡¯t expected a solution from someone so young. Just as Jobav was about to politely end the conversation, Lance broke the silence. "From where I stand, this problem has a simple solution." Jobav perked up instantly. "Could you explain?" Smiling, Lance leaned forward slightly. "If the stock never existed in the first place, why not let it stay that way?" Confusion flickered across Jobav¡¯s face. "Transfer ownership to them," Lance elaborated, lowering his voice. "Then¡­ light a fire. Alcohol is flammable, after all. You¡¯ll just need a few empty bottles." Jobav¡¯s expression shifted from confusion to horror in seconds. Even the assistant froze, staring at Lance as if he¡¯d lost his mind. "You¡­ you must be insane," the assistant seemed to think, though he didn¡¯t dare say it aloud.