ã€ŠEmpire of Shadowsã€‹


 Chapter 1: The Summer Breeze

    Chapter 1: The Summer Breeze

    Jingang City, also known as the "City of Angels."

    The world''s thirdrgest 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 ce 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 ounts 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 morous 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 yer 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 p brought Lance back to reality. The bakery owner was standing behind him, ring angrily.

    ¡°I hired you to work, not to lean on the counter gawking at girls!¡±

    The p was loud and forceful. ¡°Get moving, get moving, youzy maggot who¡¯s practically rotting. Don¡¯t let me catch you cking off again¡ªI¡¯m paying you, damn it!¡± ????£Â??

    Lance scratched his head and picked up a rag to start wiping the disy 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 regrs 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 popr 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.

    ording 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 demandedbor, and factories often had people working alongside oxen and horses.

    Sometimes it was hard to tell which was which.

    The economy was booming, and thebor shortage was massive. The president was pushing a "Non-Regr Immigrant Legalization Act.¡±

    In in terms, it was about giving undocumented immigrants a chance to be legal citizens,plete with voting rights.

    This move had gained considerable support among the undocumented, and using illegal workers was bing moremon. 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 wasmon in Jingang City. People loved hiring undocumented workers¡ªif you obeyed, these up-anding capitalists might even cut your pay by two bucks next month.

    If you didn¡¯t behave, they¡¯d just call the cops and im 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 misceneous tasks.

    Though the boss¡¯s daughter wasn¡¯t very attractive, she was plump and¡­ vorful.

    A kind of¡­ rancid vor. If she hadn¡¯t reeked so much, Lance might have braced himself to be 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, rxed 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.¡±n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    The boss red 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-calction, quietly helped out, ¡°That¡¯s six dors and twenty cents, boss.¡±

    The boss nodded, ¡°Right, six-fifty. And every morning and evening, you eat one of my bread rolls.¡±

    ¡°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 dors 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 dors 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 Trantor 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 Joke

    The 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 ce.

    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¡¯srge 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 anotherrge 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 ny 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 ce to stay.

    Leaving was easy enough, but where would he find food or a ce 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 t 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 ced it in front of them.

    ¡°Add ten dors; 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-dor 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.

    ¡°How long are you nning 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 neers 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 dor for six pounds. During processing, many beans got crushed and sieved out.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    The intact,rger 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 himselffortable 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 minutester, 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 dors 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 thest 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,pletelycked 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 toply 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 whileter, 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-dor 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 ced his soiled handkerchief on the table, looking directly at the boss. ¡°There is now.¡±

 Chapter 3: If It Shouldnt Die, Itâ€™s Not a Vampire

    Chapter 3: If It Shouldn''t Die, It¡¯s Not a Vampire

    Blocking the bakery door with his bulky frame, the fat officer turned and red 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 dors, the boss chose to give up the cash to protect himself.

    This bakery made about four hundred dors a month. After covering regr 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 ounted for his and his daughter¡¯s wages, the profit was barely a hundred dors.

    For most working-ss 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.N?v(el)B\\jnnTaking a deep breath, the boss forced himself to stayposed. ¡°No problem, I¡¯ll go get it now.¡±

    A short whileter, he returned, clutching the two hundred dors he painfully pulled from his hidden cash stash and set it on the counter.

    The officer gave it a casual nce before pocketing the money. ¡°Johnny, don¡¯t worry. I y 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 exnation. 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 onest 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 nced 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 dors, 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 itughable. ????£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 canugh 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 cursinging 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 dors 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 t 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, neen¡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 homnd 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 roughbor.

    There was even something called ¡°job leasing¡± now. The port¡¯s bulletin board listed notices like these¡ª

    The Federation¡¯sws and regtions supposedly protected the working ss, but in practice, they served as tools for better exploitation. To work, everyborer 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 mostmon 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 be 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 foreignnd, the shared bond of being from the same ce 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¡¯de 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¡­¡±

    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 umon 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 thew 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 forbor 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 Turningâ€¦

    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 be 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 theint.¡±

    ¡°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 n. 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 neers barely had anything left.

    When Lance disembarked, he¡¯d had less than five bucks to his name, and the others were in a simr 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?

    Tapping his pipe against the counter, he pointed a finger at Lance. ¡°If you run off or don¡¯te 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-dor bills.

    Seeing this camaraderie in a foreign ce, facing a crisis, Lance felt a sense of ¡°power¡± stirring within them. Like seeds nted in dark soil, it would one day push through to the surface.

    ¡°With yours, we¡¯ve got seventy-seven dors.¡±

    The young men exchanged a mix of expressions on hearing the total.

    In this period, intion in the Federation was low, and with the economy booming, the dor¡¯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 financepany 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 exined his n 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 dor 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 financepany.

    Financepanies were everywhere in the Federation, especially in a fast-growing city like Jingang.

    Ny-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 sses to be middle-ss, 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 coteral, usually only lending sixty percent of a property¡¯s value, with strict evaluations and conditions that blocked many from their entrepreneurial dreams.

    Financepanies, 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, bing part of the port¡¯s foundations.

    If someone thought they could exchange a few hundred, a few thousand, or even ten thousand dors for their life, the financepanies 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, financepanies lined the streets and alleys near the port.

    Lance picked one that looked rtivelyrge. 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 y it safe, he ced 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 nced 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.

    Thepany¡¯s interior wasvishly decorated, though it wasn¡¯t veryrge.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    Right past the entrance was a reception desk, where a pretty girl was busy filing her nails.

    She nced at the neers 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 upants 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 muscr 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, Too

    Soon, someone brought two sses of water, and the manager ced 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, financepanies took on any size of loan¡ªsmall loans, in fact, often brought in higher returns per dor. Whilerger loans like a thousand dors mighte 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 ce. So, what do you have as coteral?¡±

    ¡°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 exining. ¡°We don¡¯t have any coteral¡­¡± 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 exined 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 popr 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 me and took a deep drag, visibly rxing.

    Watching him smoke, the manager lit his own cigarette. ¡°So, back to the topic. Exin how you n to guarantee I¡¯ll get my money back.¡±

    ¡°There are fourteen of us. Even if each of us only makes fifteen dors a month, that¡¯s still two hundred and ten dors.¡±

    ¡°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 dors 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 exnation, 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.¡±n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    ¡°As per our policy, a two-hundred-dor 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 intoughter, hisughter growing louder and louder, impossible to suppress.

    Lance realized what the issue was.

    ¡°Thispany¡­ is yours, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Still chuckling, the manager nodded, holding his stomach. ¡°You¡¯re hrious. 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?¡±

    ¡°Lance,¡± he answered, spelling it out.

    ¡°A strange name, but you¡¯re an interesting one, Lance.¡±

    ¡°For making meugh 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 ce, that was far from exorbitant.

    Lance didn¡¯t hesitate. Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, he exhaled thest puff of smoke as he stood and extended his hand. ¡°d 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 workce. 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 someonees 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 regr 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 dors 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 y out.

    As soon as Lance and Elvin walked out of the financepany, their friends surrounded them, asking about the oue.

    Lance exined that the matter had been handled but gave them a heads-up, ¡°Each of you will need to pitch in three dors 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 thepany 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,cking 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 toply. 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 tranting it for you. If you¡¯re enjoying it, a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates would be an amazing way to support the BOTI Trantor Team!

 Chapter 6: Gunmen and Bullets

    Chapter 6: Gunmen and Bullets

    Weapons are incrediblymon in Jingang City.

    When violence bes the rule in broad daylight, weapons inevitably be 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 disys them.

    Only three types of people dare to do that¡ª

    First, the federalw 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 groupprises 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,ws and morals are nothing that would stop them from pulling the trigger.

    On the western outskirts of Jingang City is a ce called Angel Lake, a popr 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 theke 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 nk, 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 nced at Lance for a few seconds, then turned away. ¡°I¡¯ll be here if you need anything.¡±

    In the entirepany, 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 bing theughingstock 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 ce 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 thest time.¡±

    ¡°Your arrangement will remain in ce. 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 ording to certain patterns and rules.¡±

    ¡°As long as rules exist, we¡¯ll follow them. That¡¯s enough.¡±

    ¡°At market rate, fifteen dors 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 minutester, 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 exined 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 ss 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, exining why some people liked ssic cars.

    ¡°Not at all.¡±

    ¡°Mind if I ask why?¡±

    ¡°Because there¡¯s twenty thousand dors 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 ce 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.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 ss, 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 ie and social standing, Ethan grew up tall and strong.

    The drunk, now facing this intimidating young man, watched Ethan bow with an expression of relief.

    He nced 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 dors, not a cent short. The man had nned to give him a bit more, but Lance refused.

    Rules are rules, and it¡¯s best not to break them when youck 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 rules

    Under 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 ufortable 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 ce, Ethan. It¡¯s a ce 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 escte," Lance exined, ncing 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 ce 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 goin 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 anythinges 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 vigers, 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 glovepartment, 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 childbor, 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-ss knack for knowing these things.

    Who else were those magazines targeting, if not the aspirational middle ss?

    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."

    "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 nce, 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 rmend?"

    Lance opened the disy case. "The only thing here remotely tasty is the high-quality ham from Musu Ind."

    Musu Ind, another country, wasn¡¯t close by. Thanks to its unique climate and geography, it was famous for three things:

    Tobo.

    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 nced 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, "Ny-nine percent of our customers just want a full stomach. They care about the price, not the taste or origin."n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    He packed everything into a paper bag and ced it on the counter. "Six ny-nine."

    One box of donuts, ny-nine cents, including a free coffee.

    Two premium hams, five bucks. Two better-quality breads, one dor. 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 nce 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 people

    A busy day.

    On weekends, the bakery always got particrly 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.

    ces 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 smallmunity¡¯s ¡°hometown delicacy¡± to a popr food. It had gone through significant localization along the way.

    In fact, pizza¡¯s poprity 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 vors.That¡¯s one of the main reasons people admired the Federation¡¯s economy¡ªeveryone wanted to emte 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 dor a serving. It wasn¡¯t as vorful, but it was affordable and made the bakery the most profit.

    The ham, roasted over charcoal, released an indescribablyplex 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 nced 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 cab, 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 red at the boss, but the boss didn¡¯t budge. "If you don¡¯t like it, you can leave. Just don¡¯t let your mothere begging me on her kneester!"N?v(el)B\\jnn

    That hit a nerve. The apprentice, who had been clenching his fists in defiance, suddenly deted like a spineless creature.

    With his head hung low, he turned back toward the kitchen. That was his ce¡ªnot here.

    Lance grabbed a slice. This cheesy, meaty pizza was the best meal he¡¯d had since arriving here.

    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 vor 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 ce.

    In operas, anyone challenging authority ended up as a mere historical footnote.

    Only nobility or those with privilege could sessfully 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 therge pizza were crumbs.

    Lance pressed his finger on the te, 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 ttering 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 red 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 dors!"

    "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 ufortable 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 ce for now.

    He could¡¯ve gone elsewhere, but dealing with Johnny was far less stressful than the trouble he might face in other ces.

    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.

    For Lance, frustrating the boss with his helpless rage had be 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 ss¡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 ¡°ck-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.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 n; 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 rx 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, pping his shoulder or back, and calling him ¡°brother¡± in return.

    Passersby cast nces 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 dor, 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.

    Lanceughed as he watched them, a raw energy stirring within him as he saw their youthful yfulness.

    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 awyer. I hearwyers make good money.¡±

    One of the guysughed. ¡°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 ofwyers 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 mutteredints 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 intoughter, pushing Lance around in jest.

    Amid theughter, 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 bing a true part of it, someone truly alive in this time and ce.

    ¡°Lance, do you think¡­ our dreams cane 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 Trantor Team smile by leaving a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates. ????

 Chapter 10: An Iron Nail

    Chapter 10: An Iron Nail

    Late 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 asionally 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 rm 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 nket 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 fewzy 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, iming 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 sh 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 ck-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 exim, "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."n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    "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 legite the death penalty for these people."

    Thesements received apuse 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,shing out at the very people who¡¯d made it possible. ???¨°??¨§S?

    It was like the way the middle ss looks down on the lower ss¡ªcalling themzy worms rotting in the mud.

    Several undocumented immigrants in the bakery quickly left, clearly ufortable 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 circting 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.

    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 be 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,pletely unfazed by the boss deducting yet another dor 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 hade from the Empire, though not on the same boat, also wanted to join their circle.

    With Lance¡¯s approval, they had been weed 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 exin. "The presidential election ising 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 wille after us."

    "The docks areplicated. 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 manipting events through movements, and though the oues varied, the processes were always bloody.

    The yers 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 dere 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 dered 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 ¡°Federationpdogs¡± 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 calcted 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 theprehension 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 ck-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 Shotâ€™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.¡±n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    ¡°Senator Xn 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 cheapbor for the workforce.

    In fact, they weren¡¯t the only supporters given such assurances; many campaign backers had received simr promises. The Federation''s economy was advancing rapidly. As technology improved, the costs of raw materials and semi-finished goods had decreased, butbor costs continued to rise year by year. Four years ago, they only needed to pay twenty-eight dors to hire a willing worker. Now, at least thirty-five dors was needed just to hire someonezy enough to cut corners. To get a diligent worker? Not under forty dors.

    By next year, wages would likely start at forty dors for most roles, with some positions requiring even more. Forrge factories with thousands, even tens of thousands of employees, saving just three dors 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.

    After contemting 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 seeded, 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. Elevenw 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 downy it¡­¡±

    Just as the President contemted 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 be 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 dayster, 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 cards marched past the bakery, each looking furious as they demanded all illegal immigrants be sent back to their homnds,beling 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 moreplicated. 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 wisertely, 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 tough by month¡¯s end.

    Lance¡¯s current debt to him was twelve dors. At ten percent monthly interest, this debt would rise to fifteen dors by the end of the month, plus a dor-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 ce to sell bread; it also had a social atmosphere, simr 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 rxing 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 ¡°entric¡± ideas. By this point, many people at the grassroots level were beginning to realize that the so-called deration 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,ing back to his senses, looked at Lance with aplex 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 ss, 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¡¯sst-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. Dering war on the Federation would only be the second mostughable thing he¡¯d done.

    But if it seeded, he could reim everything he¡¯d lost.

    And it wasn¡¯t a random gamble; there was a significant chance of sess. ording to the Federation¡¯s constitution, elections do not take ce 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 nk stare mirrored the increasingly overcast sky, with no trace of insight breaking through.

 Chapter 12: Escalating Conflict

    Chapter 12: Escting Conflict

    A 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 peoplee in to avoid the rain. Embarrassed, they bought some bread out of courtesy.

    On any other day, regrs 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 couldugh.

    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, eventuallynding on him. He was supposed to hold a press conference today, but the sudden rainstorm had left him irritated.

    While he might not articte 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,dies and gentlemen, foring 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 rification.¡±

    ¡°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 diedter in the hospital due to a shortage of emergency and surgical doctors.¡±

    ¡°In other words, they could have survived.¡±

    ¡°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 yer.

    On the surface, his statements seemed to supplement the investigation, but they were actually undermining the original conclusions.

    Firstly, he implied the ipetence 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 ipetent!¡±

    Secondly, he redirected dissatisfaction and hatred toward the healthcare system by highlighting that most deaths were due to dys in treatment, not directbat.

    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 viins, he diminished public sympathy for them.

    People mourn heroes but don¡¯t extend such feelings to viins.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    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, bing 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 greaterplexity.

    Two other city councilors publicly used 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 ims. 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 im of dyed 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 usations and traded insults, the Federation¡¯s political theater unfolded in all its absurdity.

    ording 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 downy the incident¡¯s severity, others escted 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 togethertely. 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 goodds, but you¡¯ve seen the situation. They might not be able to trouble you directly, but they¡¯lle after us,¡± the manager exined.

    ¡°There are already people protesting at ourpany¡¯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 Federationws.¡±

    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.

    Butpliance was unavoidable. It was clear to everyone that Jingang City had be the epicenter of multiplepeting forces.

    Even though the dockpany had influential backing, ensuring stock price stability by temporarilyying 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 Take

    They 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 ss, and at most, the workers might cause minor trouble or call the Police. In a city where countless cases urred 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 wee 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 willst too long. You just need toy 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. ¡°Thepany 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 nce.

    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¡ªthergest 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.

    Unustomed 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 appearedwful, the justice they served carried a distinct stench of rotting fish.

    Elvin¡¯s group fared rtively well. Having outnumbered their assants, 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 esction. 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 thest 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-cor 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 red at him. ¡°Stay the hell out of it!¡±

    ¡°Is she your mom?¡± Lance shot back, unfazed.

    The apprentice¡¯s eyes reddened as he red 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 minutester, Johnny emerged, looking satisfied. ¡°This is thest 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 nce. ¡°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.

    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 sh 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¡­¡±n/o/vel/b//in dot c//omThat¡¯s it for today¡¯s update! Enjoying the story? Support BOTI Trantor Team with a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates. Thank you!

 Chapter 14: Courage Comes from Purpose

    Chapter 14: Courage Comes from Purpose

    Eighteen- or neen-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 uncontrobly.

    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 dors¡ªmoney he didn¡¯t have on his twenty-seven-dor monthly ie.

    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 dors.

    In the end, he paid forty dors 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-inmmatory 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 dors 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 wasrge, and they looked like they¡¯d just been in a fight, so nobody dared approach.

    ncing 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 arge group at night to prevent misunderstandings.

    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 thest of the antiseptic powder, which cost a hefty neen dors 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, recing their exhaustion with a sense of purpose.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 theing days.

    Lance already had a n. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry too much about money. For now, hide in the storm drains.¡±

    ¡°This chaos won¡¯tst 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 thene 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-ck 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 me.

 Chapter 15: A New Job

    Chapter 15: A New Job

    The chubby shop owner prepared the bakery¡¯s supplies and left in the morning, a rare urrence, 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 dors a day to clean the streets twice. Hiring locals, on the other hand, cost at least thirty-five dors per day. A ten-dor 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 cleaningpanies contracted by City Hall, hired as cheapbor¡ªoften undocumented immigrants¡ªwith minimal pay while thepany pocketed the difference as profit.

    As shes 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 drivenst 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 asionally seen assaulting lone individuals. Lance even saw Police officers tying up some rioters who had attacked immigrants to streemps and leaving them there.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    Fordis nced over and exined, ¡°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 streemp for twenty-four hours.¡±

    Lance lit a cigarette. ¡°This bad, huh?¡±

    Fordis nodded. ¡°Lots of outsiders areing to join in, so you can imagine how big it¡¯s gotten. Stirring up trouble is a popr 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 nces.

    ¡°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 reimed 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 nced over when she heard them, and Fordis exined, ¡°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.

    ¡°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 myselfst 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 arge sh at the docks yesterday. Seems like your people aren¡¯t allowed to work there anymore?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s temporary,¡± Lance exined. Of course, he owed it to Mr. Corti to rify things and offer reassurance.

    Alberto chuckled without exnation, 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 ounts 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 dors, 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 cing 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 dors. ¡°Here¡¯s forty as an advance. I hope it¡¯s worth every penny!¡±

    Lance epted 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 de?¡±N?v(el)B\\jnn

    ¡°But I don¡¯t rmend anything too lethal to start. If you identally 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 des, 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???

    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 thepany took their cars aspensation. 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 elerate, 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 gotfortable 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 dors 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 eximed 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 toe 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, dy 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 red, ¡°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 insurancepany employee who had borrowed a thousand dors from Alberto and was overdue on repayment. Word had it he was nning 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: Everyoneâ€™s Just Trying to Survive

    Chapter 17: Everyone¡¯s Just Trying to Survive

    The 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 ss with affordable entertainment.

    Whereas a private show at a downtown strip bar cost at least fifty dors for thirty minutes, simr services at a lively port bar only cost ten dors, with an extra five for an additional "hands-on" experience. This wasn¡¯t technically illegal; ording to Federationw, specific ¡°actions¡± had to ur 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 beganying out the n 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)e 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 regr 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 tofort me. I know my job.¡±

    Lance gave him a yful 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.¡±

    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-dor 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 upant wasn¡¯t nning 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 nces 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 m 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,nding 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 anythinges 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 ce like this, nobody cared if their neighbor was in trouble¡ªas long as it didn¡¯t affect them.

    Inside, Whitey 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 ss. 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 nced 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 withoutsting 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 nned to repay from the start. People who took high-interest loans signed without a second thought, knowing repayment was unlikely.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 nced 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 uncontrobly; 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 Trantor 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 Earnings

    The 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 unrted.

    ¡°It¡¯s Lance. I need to speak with Mr. Corti, or Fordis would do.¡±N?v(el)B\\jnn

    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.¡±

    Fordisughed, ¡°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?¡±

    Thepany 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. Thepany 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 dors in chips.

    ¡°This is what you owe thepany, so I¡¯m taking it.¡± He nced 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 thepany 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 re, 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, disying a meticulousness that left no room for error. He counted down to thest fifty-dor 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 rxed. ¡°We started by talking about the Jingang City Sailors. Turns out he¡¯s a baseball fan, too. Then we chatted about cooking.¡±

    ¡°We foundmon ground, somunication got easier. I asked him where the money was, and he told me, ¡®In the flower pot.¡¯ Simple as that.¡±

    Albertoughed heartily. ¡°I bet he never wants to see you again!¡±

    He paused, then pulled out three fifty-dor 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 dors at the Kodak Family casino, an amount equivalent to a hundred months¡¯ pay for a regr 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 aplished 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 exined 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. Ourwyer says there¡¯s a high chance we¡¯d lose.¡±

    ¡°So this one¡¯s different from White¡¯s. You can¡¯t use force. Understand?¡±

    ¡°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 39: Publicity, Interviews, and Attention

    Chapter 39: Publicity, Interviews, and Attention

    "Do you have time..." Lance handed over the signed forms.

    Patricia nced 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 ce, 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 nned to feature the photo in the next day¡¯s business section of <em>Jingang Daily</em>, under the headline: <em>The Young Entrepreneur and the City¡¯s Future.</em> 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 <em>Jingang Daily</em>. 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 dors?"

    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 apelling 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 eximed, "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, <em>Jingang Daily</em>."

    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 dor 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 ent..."

    Lance nodded. "Yes, but there¡¯s a story behind that."

    "As a child, I was sold to another state after an ident. 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 alwaysbor to exploit."

    "That¡¯s why my ent 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¡¯vee home."

    George was astonished. "Unbelievable. No wonder you speak with such depth. Life has been your greatest teacher!"n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    "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 morepelling 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."

    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 ss, and while television offered broader content, mostborers 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 onmutes, buses, subways¡ªor even in the restroom.

    By cultivating media rtionships, Lance took a crucial step forward, faster than he anticipated. Reporters, the most significant information channel of the time, were far more essible 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 <em>Jingang Daily</em>.

    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 unexinable charm, as if reminding viewers to asionally 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 apelling picture of prosperity.

    Then came the interview, where the young man repeatedly emphasized teamwork in the city¡¯s sess. Yet, to the director¡¯s discerning eye, every statement subtly ced bureaucrats at the forefront of the effort. It was a deft blend of humility and rity.

    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 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 spentboring 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 sce, 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 venomouseback.

    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 dors. 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!¡±

    Heughed 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!¡±

    Despite his mockery, Lance could see a flicker of unease.

    ¡°I¡¯ve worked about a week this month, plusst month¡¯s wages. Just pay me twenty dors, 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 dors forst 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 dor a night, with limited hot water included. The wooden building smelled musty, amon problem for poorly maintained coastal structures.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    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 ifpeting.

    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 45: The Rolling Cash Machine

    Chapter 45: The Rolling Cash Machine

    Lance pulled a stack of cash from the drawer, carefully counting out ten five-dor bills. Heid them t 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."

    Beforeing here, the man had approached other lenders, but none would help. It wasn¡¯t that fifty-dor loanscked profit potential¡ªquite the opposite.

    Most financepanies operated on steep interest rates. A fifty-dor loan could easily balloon to over a hundred dors 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 financepanies preferredrger 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 directpetition.

    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 use:"I have carefully reviewed the above terms and agree willingly, epting 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 amission of four dors and eighty cents."

    The team member¡¯s eyes sparkled with delight. Almost five dors? 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?"

    Lanceid two post-dated checks and a contract on the desk. "I¡¯d like a loan of sixty-five dors for two months."

    Jonathan raised an eyebrow, picking up the checks. They were standard, issued through a union worker¡¯s ount¡ªamon setup in Jingang City. Union dues were deducted, and wages were deposited into such ounts each month.

    Next, Jonathan examined the contract, ensuring there were no hidden uses. Satisfied, he looked up, puzzled. "So, these are... coteral?"

    "Exactly," Lance confirmed.

    "The checks¡¯ issuer currently has no funds in his ount. However, the first check will clear in a week when he gets paid¡ªthirty-seven dors, guaranteed." ?????¦¢¨§S

    "And the second check?"

    "Next month¡¯s sry. In short, I¡¯m using these as coteral for a sixty-five-dor 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 ce. If he defaults, the card can be leased for four months, fetching at least sixty dors from any undocumented worker."

    Lance smirked. "Right now, leasing a work card goes for twenty dors a month. The math checks out¡ªeighty dors¡¯ worth of coteral."

    Jonathan, a local, understood the demand for work cards. The recent anti-immigration unrest had driven prices up. Without work, many undocumentedborers were on the brink of starvation. Desperate to resume earning, they¡¯d pay premium rates to lease work cards.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    Jonathan mulled over the proposal. The bank¡¯s personal loan interest rate was twelve percent annually¡ªone percent monthly. For a sixty-five-dor 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 dors 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 be your problem."

    Jonathan tapped the desk, mulling it over. He nced 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 ount 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 ount."

    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 ountability."

    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 profit was substantial. The true powery in scbility¡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 misced. 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 22: Independence Costs Four Hundred Bucks

    Chapter 22: Independence Costs Four Hundred Bucks

    Anderson 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 mostmon 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.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    If not for the thick scent of money wafting through the air, what could have drawn them across oceans toe 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 thepetition in Jingang City, shing 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 ident and was injured.

    The insurancepany refused to cover her expenses, iming 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, thepany argued that her undisclosed condition directly contributed to the ident.

    Anderson fought them in court but ultimately lost.

    The most infuriating part?

    The insurance payout was supposed to be around $8,000. Yet, thepany spent over $10,000 fighting him in court just to avoid paying.

    In the end, not only did Anderson fail to receivepensation, but he also had to cover his wife¡¯s medical bills and legal fees himself.

    At that point, he waspletely out of money.

    He tried applying for a bank loan, but since he¡¯d just lost awsuit, the bank gged 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 financepanies. 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 apany called Fordis Finance. Although their interest rates were slightly high, they didn¡¯t ask for coteral 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 ce bustling with customers.

    Just that morning, Anderson had spent $400 to purchase ad space in Jingang Daily and was nning to rent the shop next door to expand his business.

    Though he¡¯d received several calls reminding him to repay the principal and stop-rued interest owed to Fordis, he had no intention of doing so.

    Expanding the restaurant required money. Marketing required money. Anderson dreamed of living avish life in hister years, supported by the restaurant¡¯s sess. 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 hiswyer had assured him, there was no need to worry.

    Fordis Finance might threaten legal action, but the cost of pursuing awsuit 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 hiswyer¡¯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 ismon among those who refuse to repay debts.

    While contemting 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 particr 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.

    Having dealt with various restaurant-rted 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 cane 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 voicingints, 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 re 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 beplimentary¡­¡±

    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 hade 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 ofpromising.

    Anderson took a deep breath. ¡°$200. That¡¯s my final offer¡­¡±

    ¡°$500.¡±

    ¡°This is ckmail. 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 exined. ¡°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 aplimentary 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 epted his exnation, 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 Water

    Standing 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 wouldin about having too much business.

    They¡¯d rather see customers waiting an hour outside their own establishment than going to apetitor¡¯s restaurant and spending less for a full meal.

    The better his business did, the more likely hispetitors 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 apliment.¡±

    ¡°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 beforeing 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 me 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 zing 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 ck leather upholstery, hot enough to burn, made him wince with difort. 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, ncing 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 ce 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 extrayers.

    No wonder so many people chose to live in culverts during the summer.

    When Lance pulled up, the group ofpanions 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.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    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 fromundromats.

    Some were salvaged from dumpsters in middle-ss 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.¡±

    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 ttering. 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 particr ¡°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 hade 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 nned to follow up on.

    The anti-immigrant sentiment in Jingang City hadn¡¯t subsided yet. Although it wasn¡¯t escting, neither was it improving.

    Many med 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-ie apartment block not far from the Port.

    As Lance stepped out of the car, his presence drew attention. It wasn¡¯tmon 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 histe 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 rtively 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, ncing 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 cabs and apologized. ¡°Sorry, we only have water.¡±

    He poured a ss 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, butpared to the Federation, we still have a long way to go.¡±

    Staring at the ss 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 nced at the ss 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 uncontroble 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 ims 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 divorcedter¡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 willeter. No matter howte, it wille. 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 apliment that made Bolton burst into heartyughter.

    He enjoyed sharing his ¡°sess 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 dered.

    ¡°All you need is to work steadily toward your goals!¡±

    He paused to wipe away the white flecks of saliva umting 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 regr people preferred to avoid any association with underworld affairs.

    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Bolton replied perfunctorily, ncing 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 localmunity 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 mmed up.

    He also indicated that it was gettingte 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.

    As for the Camille Gang, Lance wasn¡¯t sure what they were involved in, but he already had a theory:

    The deadliest wounds oftene 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 thepany.

    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 weed and valued everywhere, and even the receptionist painting her toenails at the front desk looked up and greeted Lance with a casual ¡°Hi.¡±N?v(el)B\\jnn

    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 financepanies and banks, as they scrambled to tidy up their ounts 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.

    Thepany was reputable, with adequate coteral, 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 pped 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 n?¡±

    Lance didn¡¯t hold back. ¡°Mr. Anderson cares deeply about his restaurant, so I n to keep targeting it.¡±

 Chapter 25: The Empireâ€™s Circle

    Chapter 25: The Empire¡¯s Circle

    Alberto 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 n 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 causeplications.¡±

    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 yetpletely helpless. I want him to call me, begging.¡±

    Lance nced 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 thewn 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, ounting for a significant portion of the legitimate immigrant poption.

    Though the number seemed small, their impact wasn¡¯t. Most of those attending these gatherings were rtively sessful.

    Bolton noticed Lance. Initially, he didn¡¯t n on interacting with him¡ªhe didn¡¯t particrly 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?¡±

    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,d?¡±

    ¡°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?¡±

    Jobavughed 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 theirwork 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 socialdder 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 hourter, having dealt with these introductions, Lance asked, ¡°Did Geralde 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 unt 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 sidewn¡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 outssed 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.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    ¡°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 ring as Selena continued to nce 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 statuscked long-term potential.

    Rob, sensing Selena¡¯s waning interest in Lance, felt his jealousy subside, reced by a smug sense of superiority.

    ¡°So, what kind of work do you do?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I work for apany that assigns me tasks. Iplete them and earnmissions based on the job,¡± Lance exined straightforwardly.

    Rob smirked. ¡°So, a salesperson?¡±

    ¡°More or less.¡±

    Rob pressed further. ¡°What do you sell? Maybe we could help you earn moremissions.¡±

    Lance smiled but didn¡¯t borate, prompting Rob to try again. ¡°Does your work even pay well?¡±

    ¡°Recently, I earned $200 from a single job.¡±

    Rob fell silent, while Gerald eximed 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 grewplicated, 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 Trantor 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 imed 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¡¯tpare 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 particrly popr around here. He had inherited Mr. Bolton¡¯s shrewdness and snobbishness, butcked 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 apdog, wagging his tail and saying ttering 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 exined 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 ss.

    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 minorplications.¡±

    ¡°This job only takes a day¡ªfrom 10 a.m. to around 8 p.m. No physicalbor involved. You¡¯ll just sit in one ce 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 exined, ¡°It¡¯s a one-day gig, but there might be more opportunities in the future.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll get paid right after the job¡ªno dys.¡±

    ¡°Like I said, this money could go to anyone. Why wouldn¡¯t I offer it to my own brothers first?¡± He nced at the girls nearby and added with a grin, ¡°And sisters.¡±

    The girls giggled, finding Lance amusing. It wasn¡¯tmon 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.

    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 ns.

    ---

    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 sry 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 be apprentices. Mr. Anderson himself was a testament to starting as an apprentice and rising to be a restaurant owner.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    Both the apprentices and their families believed they could learn real skills here and eventually achieve middle-ss status like Mr. Anderson.

    After inspecting the ingredients, it was almost 10 a.m. Weekend lunch hours started a bitter, around noon, andsted 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 ns.

    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-dor mixed sd.

    The breadbasket contained a pound of bread, enough to fill two or three people. The mixed sd, 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¡¯tment, simply instructing the staff to maintain the quality of the dishes. No cking 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 nkly 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 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 arge 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 disyed 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-beefbo or a regr 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. Calcting 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.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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 upied, 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,bined with a powerfulxative 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 waterced withxatives.

    ¡°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 dor,¡± 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 thexative in one gulp, then stood quietly.

    Roughly ten minutester, 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 rx. 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,te 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.

    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 rotatingzily as if reluctant to disturb the morning calm.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 threergest 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 mped 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 eximed. ¡°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 shockinglymon, evenpared 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,beling 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-dor bill on the ground, walked back to the car, and radioed in. ¡°GPPD, responding officer. Incident reported as a false rm. No issues at the scene.¡±

    After receiving confirmation, he climbed back into the car. Rolling down the window, he red at Anderson. ¡°File another false report, and I¡¯ll escte 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-dor 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.

    ¡°Greedy mutts,¡± Anderson muttered, flipping off the departing police car. Turning, he caught sight of the manager.

    ¡°I¡¯ll file aint,¡± Anderson dered. ¡°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 red. ¡°Pay them? Over my dead body!¡±

    ¡°Let theme! 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 theming 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 Trantor Team with a 5-star rating on NovelUpdates. We¡¯re so grateful for you! ????

 Chapter 30: The Final Strike

    Chapter 30: The Final Strike

    By midday, the stench still lingered around the restaurant, attracting a crowd of curious onlookers.

    In the Federation, people nevercked 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 harshints. 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 escte 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.

    A knock on the door interrupted his haze. He nced 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 shing 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 dors. 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 $12,000st 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 ced 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 nced at the menu. ¡°A ssic coffee.¡±n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    Federation-style ssic 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 nning 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 nning?¡±

    ¡°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 withughter. ¡°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 nning 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.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    ¡°So, what¡¯s the n?¡±

    Lance didn¡¯t reveal much. ¡°If you¡¯re free around 5:30 p.m.,e 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 sanitationpany 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 morous 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 operatedte 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 nced at the septic truck. ¡°There¡¯s a job tonight. Thepany 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 exined his n.

    ---

    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 minutester, 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 sses of iced orange juice.

    ¡°So,¡± Alberto asked, ¡°what¡¯s the show?¡±

    Lance nced 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 Federationw has regtions 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.¡±

    Federationw on loan sharking was nominally in ce 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 urred.

    ¡°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 uing baseball season, Lance let the conversation flow. Baseball was a favorite pastime, heavily promoted by the government to instill resilience andpetitiveness in the poption.

    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 ident. 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 ident 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 mmed 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 sttered the restaurant¡¯s windows, front door, and even inside.

    A woman screamed in horror, and the street erupted into chaos.

    Amid themotion, Alberto could almost hear Anderson shouting, ¡°F*ck!¡±

 Chapter 32: The Final Straw

    Chapter 32: The Final Straw

    The restaurant manager looked at the feces smeared across the ss walls, the yellow sludge sttered through the front door, and the road outside covered in filth.

    For a moment, he felt likeughing.

    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 ss walls. The task wasn¡¯t easy.

    If a scientist had been present, they might have exined why the waste was so stubbornly stuck to the ss. The high-pressure impact from the septic truck¡¯s collision had caused the feces to hit the ss like bullets. Upon contact, air was expelled, creating a vacuum-like seal between the ss 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¡¯ ipetence, at the driver responsible for the ident, 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¡­¡±

    ¡°Nows were broken,¡± the manager emphasized. ¡°It was an idental 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 thatbel 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 ce, 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 bing coteral 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 thewn 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 toe 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 topromise, 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 cor.

    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 unwee anywhere in the Federation.¡±n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    ¡°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 yful demeanor was gone, reced by something far more unsettling.

    Anderson finally lowered his hand. The manager, still trying to defuse the situation, offered conciliatory words.

    Lance adjusted his cor 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 clearlyck 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 yourst.¡±

    With a lighthearted smile, Lance added, ¡°Well, that¡¯s all I had to say. This ce 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 youe work for me?¡±

    It was the first time Alberto officially invited Lance to join him. The n had been wless¡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 thister. I¡¯m still figuring out my next steps.¡±

    Alberto respected his decision. ¡°I understand, Lance. I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±

    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 hispany 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 ss walls of the restaurant visibly smeared with waste.

    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 zing midday sun!

    ---

    ¡°Boss wants to see you,¡± Fordis said, knocking on the door.Lance, who was ying pool with a few others, put down his cue and turned to his opponent. ¡°Don¡¯t forget the dor you owe me.¡±

    Yes, they were ying for money¡ª25 cents per point. After four rounds, Lance had earned a dor 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-dor bills¡ª25 notes in total.

    ¡°Your golden reputation, Mr. Coty, ensures myplete trust. I would never jeopardize the bond between us,¡± Lance said, his words dripping with ttery.

    Alberto, like most, enjoyed being praised. Smiling, he poured two sses of wine, handing one to Lance.

    Curious, he asked, ¡°What if I¡¯d shortchanged you?¡±

    Lance clinked sses 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 anotherpliment, he burst intoughter. ¡°Talking to you is always a pleasure!¡±

    ¡°So, what¡¯s next for you?¡± Alberto asked.

    Lance swirled his ss 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 bes 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 rtive of your emperor?¡±

    Lance smiled but said nothing. Though hecked those credentials, he had sessfully navigated simr challenges before.

    Law, he believed, was full of loopholes¡ªpatchwork fixes to human ws. While many revered it as unbreakable, Lance saw opportunities others couldn¡¯t.

    Alberto noticed Lance¡¯s thoughtful expression but didn¡¯t pry. Whether he seeded or not would be clear in time.

    ¡°For now,¡± Alberto said, ¡°I won¡¯t assign you any more work. This cash should let you livefortably 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 quitevishly 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 nonmitment. ¡°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?¡±n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    ¡°There¡¯ll be other chances,¡± Lance reassured him without closing the doorpletely.

    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 elderlyndy 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 couldfortably amodate 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 amunity, good neighborly rtions 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¡¯spletely 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 ¡°ssic Federal type¡±: reddish-brown hair, a thick mustache, fair skin, and a clean-shaven chin. He wore oversized sunsses and exuded confidence.

    Brayden approached the diner, nced around, and entered with his partner, who stood in the aisle to block the view of onlookers.

    Rxed, 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 cing 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 arepletely 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 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 ttery, 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 nonchntly.

    Jobav¡¯s interest piqued further. Many young men couldn¡¯t resist such praise, but Lance seemed immune, even dismissive of his recent sess.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    With genuine admiration, Jobav continued, ¡°A thousand dors 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 carriedyered meaning. He admired Lance for stepping outside the confines of societal expectations¡ªbe it a poor child destined for menialbor or a privileged youth enjoying life¡¯sforts.

    In Jobav¡¯s eyes, breaking free from one¡¯s predetermined path was a rare and admirable trait. Lance had defied expectations and seeded 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 n 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 spection. Forgive me, but I must decline.¡±

    Lance¡¯s response was firm but respectful, underscoring a fundamental difference between investment and spection. Spection 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 rtionship instead. If you ever need financial assistance, you cane 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 sessful?¡±

    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.

    ¡°He gave me a business card,¡± Lance admitted.

    The group erupted into murmurs and exmations. 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 spection.

    ---

    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 moremitted 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 resemnce 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 exined. ¡°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 n¡­¡± Brayden trailed off, a sly grin spreading across his face.

 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 usations 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 usations. But this time, he dered that such ims were baseless rumors. Even if isted incidents existed, they were not political campaigns or events. The Federation, he emphasized, was a highly open, free, tolerant, and inclusive nation, a ce weing to all peace-loving people from around the world.

    As for the Empire¡¯s unteral 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 bing the happiest nation on Earth.

    After finishing his cigarette, Lance turned off the cab-mounted TV and started his car to head back to the house.

    Alberto hadn¡¯t reimed the car, though it was worth no more than two hundred dors. 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¡¯spanions 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, ncing 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 in 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.

    "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 theirte 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 dors, or up to five. Multiply that by three meals a day, and they¡¯d be spending seven to ten dors daily. Who could sustain such costs?

    A three-hundred-dor monthly food budget was outrageous, especially when they had no ie 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 borate, but he believed his prediction was urate. 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 thisrger political struggle. The economic engine was stalling, and soon, the forces of capital would step in to broker apromise. 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 dering the Federation¡¯s greatness, which filled them with misced 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, cing cigarettes, alcohol, and food within arm¡¯s reach. Lance had brought plenty of fried chicken¡ªa much cheaper option than beef ormb, thanks torge-scale mechanized livestock farming.

    One dor 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...motion settles down, should we go back to working at the docks?"

    The others turned to Lance. In this small group, he had be 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 dors a month was the most they could hope for.

    They all understood that regr jobs weren¡¯t a solution, but they didn¡¯t know what else they could do.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 dors a month."

    "But the gangs and police took at least thirty dors 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 dors¡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 apany."

    "Start apany?" Mello scratched his head. "But I thought you need a permanent residency card or citizenship to register one. Are you nning 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: Wanli

    By Wednesday, Officer Brayden had sessfully 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 particrly generous client had promised to pay four hundred dors 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 incalcble 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 dors, 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.

    Braydenughed, 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 ns. He knew he¡¯d need Brayden¡¯s help again in the future. "I¡¯m nning to start apany¡ªor maybe several."

    "Doing what?"

    "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 ns 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, offeredprehensive services to businesspeople looking to establish themselves. The bureau provided everything frompany 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 be 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,bined 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 apany, but I¡¯m not sure about the process..."

    "I¡¯ll help you!" she dered firmly, her willingness fueled by Lance¡¯s earlierpliment.

    "And just like an angel would," Lance added.

    The woman grew even more flustered but quickly regained herposure. It was work time, after all.

    "What kind ofpany are you nning to start?"

    "Apany that helps people solve problems. They cane 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 howplex they were. Without her guidance, he would¡¯ve likely needed awyer.

    "Do you have a name in mind for yourpany?" she asked.

    "Yes¡ª¡®Wanli.¡¯ By the way, if I n to establish morepanies 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, onepany will suffice. But if they¡¯re at separate locations, it¡¯s better to establish a parentpany 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 yourpany 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."n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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 beforeposing 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 40: A Spark to Ignite

    Chapter 40: A Spark to Ignite

    From 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 nt 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 awyer, 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 sess, but as a native, all he felt was crushingpetition.

    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 sessful business nearby.

    Earning one or two hundred dors 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 ie 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 dors a month for the "privilege."

    He hated everything about the ce¡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 minutester, 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 nning to leave this ce."

    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 copsing 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."

    Johnnyughed 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 dors!"

    "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 pped 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 asionally 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 in, but she¡¯s got some real skills!"

    Johnny enjoyed seeing the apprentice¡¯s impotent rage, but tonight, the boy showed no emotion.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    Thisck 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 utched the front door.

    In the shadows, his eyes gleamed with a mix of hatred and satisfaction.

 Chapter 41: Tears

    Chapter 41: Tears

    Johnny gnawed thest shred of meat off the bone, patted his belly with satisfaction, and smirked¡ªhe¡¯d made another ten dors 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.

    ncing 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.

    Hey down on his bed, cing 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 ss. Televisions, while avable, were costly, and lower-ie families didn¡¯t have the luxury of time to sit in front of them. Most worked from early morning until exhaustion imed them at night. For those who did enjoy television, peeking through store windows on the way home sufficed.

    Some stores strategically ced TVs in their windows to attract passersby. Why buy a TV when you could watch for free?N?v(el)B\\jnn

    The drama, co-hosted by a male and female narrator ying the story¡¯s characters, used rich dialogue and voice acting to immerse listenerspletely. It was one of the most popr 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, particrly 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 heretely. 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 cabs. "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 ck and eerily quiet.

    Someone bumped into something, sending it ttering 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 nothingpared to the terror these young faces¡ªstill carrying traces of innocence¡ªinstilled in him.

    His mind nk, 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 dors. Don¡¯t y 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.

    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, iling 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 nket, 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 uncontrobly, 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, using 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 regainposure. "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 dors."

    Lukar noticed severalbeled 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 nced 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 vors¡ªa mistake no professional baker or apprentice would make. This had been done after hours, unrted 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 evene 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 ambnce 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 exined the situation briefly, trying to reassure her. Just then, two officers approached.

    "Sir," one of them said to the apprentice, "we need you toe with us to discuss the incident."

    The apprentice offered a few words offort 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 minutester, 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?"

    "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 nk. Lukar shook his head, irritated that such a simple case had disrupted his night.

    "Write down their names," Lukar said tly. "And exin how you nned 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 im you masterminded this, you could face over ten years."

    "This isn¡¯t aplicated case. Even without your cooperation, I¡¯ll find them through your social connections." Lukar leaned forward. "You¡¯re already guilty."n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 rxing as his head hung low. He began confessing, naming his aplices and exining 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. Thew viewed nners more harshly than mere participants.

    Lukar offered the apprentice a final, pitying nce. "I hope this teaches you a lesson, kid."

 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¡¯sposure.

    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¡ªces 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 ouw 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 be 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 nced at the paperwork. A thousand-dor loan, overdue for four months, had ballooned to two thousand dors 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: rewardse to those who¡¯ve endured hardships first.

    "I¡¯ll handle it," Lance replied smoothly, setting the contract aside. "I was nning to discuss mypany 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 coborate," Lance offered.

    "Financial consulting," Lance continued. "It oveps 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 ie. 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. Financialpanies had be wary, knowing thew 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.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    "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¡¯lle 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!"

    ---

    Minutester, 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 hispany, 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. Yourpany registration isplete. Can youe 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 thepany 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 thepany.

    ---

    The afternoon was spent training his team. Their job was simple: hit the streets and find clients.

    Byte 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 dors."

    "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 Machine

    Lance pulled a stack of cash from the drawer, carefully counting out ten five-dor bills. Heid them t 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."

    Beforeing here, the man had approached other lenders, but none would help. It wasn¡¯t that fifty-dor loanscked profit potential¡ªquite the opposite.

    Most financepanies operated on steep interest rates. A fifty-dor loan could easily balloon to over a hundred dors 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 financepanies preferredrger 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 directpetition.

    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 use:"I have carefully reviewed the above terms and agree willingly, epting 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 amission of four dors and eighty cents."

    The team member¡¯s eyes sparkled with delight. Almost five dors? 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?"

    Lanceid two post-dated checks and a contract on the desk. "I¡¯d like a loan of sixty-five dors for two months."

    Jonathan raised an eyebrow, picking up the checks. They were standard, issued through a union worker¡¯s ount¡ªamon setup in Jingang City. Union dues were deducted, and wages were deposited into such ounts each month.

    Next, Jonathan examined the contract, ensuring there were no hidden uses. Satisfied, he looked up, puzzled. "So, these are... coteral?"

    "Exactly," Lance confirmed.

    "The checks¡¯ issuer currently has no funds in his ount. However, the first check will clear in a week when he gets paid¡ªthirty-seven dors, guaranteed." ?????¦¢¨§S

    "And the second check?"

    "Next month¡¯s sry. In short, I¡¯m using these as coteral for a sixty-five-dor 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 ce. If he defaults, the card can be leased for four months, fetching at least sixty dors from any undocumented worker."

    Lance smirked. "Right now, leasing a work card goes for twenty dors a month. The math checks out¡ªeighty dors¡¯ worth of coteral."

    Jonathan, a local, understood the demand for work cards. The recent anti-immigration unrest had driven prices up. Without work, many undocumentedborers 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-dor 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 dors 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 be your problem."

    Jonathan tapped the desk, mulling it over. He nced 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 ount 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 ount."

    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 ountability."

    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."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 profit was substantial. The true powery in scbility¡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 misced. 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 Date

    The 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 dors a month, fifteen dors could buy a bicycle. Now, a bicycle cost more than twenty dors. That five-dor depreciation reflected intion, making saving seem futile. Spending promptly was seen as a way to maintain the value of one¡¯s wealth.

    A bicycle purchased for fifteen dors five years ago could now sell for seven or eight dors in the second-hand market¡ªessentially, one dor per year for riding it.

    You couldn¡¯t say the experts were wrong; their examples were valid. As the economy flourished, more cash circted 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 urate either. Measured by purchasing power, spending three-quarters of one¡¯s monthly ie 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 be more expensive.

    This mindset of living for the moment, coupled with a proliferation of financepanies offering installment ns and loans, nurtured a culture of immediate consumption. It also fueled the Federation¡¯s rapid economic growth. Factories nevercked customers for their products, and experts predicted this economic prosperity wouldst 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.

    Financepanies were a possibility, but without assets or valuables, and with a monthly ie of just thirty dors, financepanies wouldn¡¯t lend them money. The steep interest rates also deterred borrowers.

    This was where the ¡°Wanli Financial Consulting Services¡± stepped in, quickly bing a hot topic among the working ss in the port area.

    For loans under a hundred dors, they offered same-day full disbursement, epting both cash and checks, with reasonable interest rates and installment options.

    One man borrowed a hundred dors and only needed to repay one hundred ny over six months. That broke down to just thirty-eight dors per month¡ªsignificantly lower than standard financepany 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 neen dors, 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 ie.

    Many workers considered their future before borrowing. Would this decision make life unbearably hard? Would they default?

    The answer was no. If they couldn¡¯t repay, Wanli¡¯s policy allowed them to hand over their work cards temporarily. Thepany would hire recements to work off the debt.

    With no major risks, even those who didn¡¯t need money borrowed twenty or thirty dors 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 be taboo following recent anti-immigration movements. Renting work cards to immigrants was seen as unpatriotic by some ¡°Old Federation¡± citizens. ???????¨§s?

    Instead, letting apany use their work card to pay off debt caused no such concerns. This arrangement became a solution for many.

    Amid this sess, Lance considered opening a second business: abor servicespany.

    In just a few days, Wanli had issued over two hundred loans, ranging from twenty to one hundred dors, totaling more than thirteen thousand dors.

    With an average term of three months, this would bring in about nine thousand dors in profit. Moreover, the loans and vouchers allowed Lance to secure sixteen thousand dors 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 sess doesn¡¯t necessarily depend on hard work or noble character. That¡¯s the cruel truth.<hr>

    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 broughtughter 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 prizing effect.

    Patricia leaned heavily on Lance, her trembling legs barely supporting her. Despite theyer 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¡¯tdylike.¡± She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°He was such a rigid man, like a block of stone.¡±

    ¡°So...¡± she exhaled, shing a small smile. ¡°Even though I was scared, you made my life moreplete.¡±

    ¡°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?¡±

    Patriciaughed, 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 cor¡¯s a bit off. Let me fix it.¡± Lance adjusted her hair and cor. 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 nk.

    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.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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 butugh, 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 Gathering

    That 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-ss neighborhood. Working at the Commercial Services Bureau at such a young age already indicated that she wasn¡¯t from a purely lower-ss 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 nced 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 ced them on a te 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 consultingpany, helping people solve problems. He told me today that he might register anotherpany 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 bing promiscuous. I won¡¯t let my Pat be 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 somemunity 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.¡±

    ¡°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 harmes 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!¡±n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    With that, she stood up and took the apple te, 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?<hr>

    On Saturday morning, Lance attended a gathering of Imperial citizens as usual. By now, he¡¯d integrated well into thismunity. People were generally weing to theirpatriots.

    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 exined his business. ¡°There are two types of jobs.¡±

    ¡°The first is small loans. If someone urgently needs a small amount of money and finds financepany rates too high, you can refer them to me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t charge excessive interest. For every sessful referral, you¡¯ll get five percent of the interest asmission. If someone borrows a hundred dors, you¡¯ll earn five dors.¡±

    ¡°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 avable for rent. If you know any Imperial neers without permanent residency who need jobs, refer them to me.¡±

    ¡°I offer eighteen dors a month per card, and you¡¯ll earn a one-timemission of one dor per referral. For non-Imperial clients, I offer neen dors per month with the same one-dormission. If you negotiate twenty dors, you¡¯ll keep two dors as your share.¡±

    ¡°Of course, stock is limited. Check with me beforemitting.¡±

    He handed out a stack of business cards. ¡°If you run into trouble, don¡¯t act recklessly. Contact me immediately¡ªwhether it¡¯s work-rted 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, ming immigrants for taking native jobs.

    But the truth was, even before immigrants arrived, many natives avoided work or cked off. Their misfortune stemmed from their ownziness, not outsiders.

    Yet politicians fed them lies, iming immigrants were to me. Those unwilling to admit their faults readily epted these scapegoats.

    For some unemployed individuals, Lance¡¯s opportunities were a lifeline.

    Ennio nced 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 youter.¡±

    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 Greed

    Jobav had heard from others how Lance had managed to deal with the stubborn Mr. Anderson for Alberto, leaving a positive impression on him. asionally, 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 simr 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 epted 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 simr 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 sessful 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 escting tensions between immigrants and natives, stoked by politicians, had further strained his position. More borrowers were refusing to pay, finding excuses, dying, or forcing him into costlywsuits.

    Litigation in the Federation was prohibitively expensive. Winning against a native borrower required hiring a Federationwyer¡ªthose mercenary litigators who demanded exorbitant fees.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    Jobav¡¯s business was in trouble. The judicial andw enforcement systems didn¡¯t help him recover debts; instead, they seemed to protect the defaulters.

    This so-called nd 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 trante 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¡¯sck of immediate response and grew slightly anxious, though he kept it hidden. ¡°I can offer you ten percentmission, 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 wererge sums¡ªstarting at several thousand, if not tens of thousands.

    Smaller debts, of a few hundred dors, wouldn¡¯t warrant such a generous expense budget ormission. 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 ownpany, and it¡¯s doing well.¡±

    Lance smiled. ¡°Currently, I¡¯m making four to five thousand dors a month in profit, and it¡¯s only growing.¡±

    Jobav frowned slightly and countered, ¡°Twelve percent.¡±

    At twelve percent, a ten-thousand-dor debt would yield a twelve-hundred-dormission¡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. ¡°Thergest is fifty thousand dors.¡±

    At twelve percent, that would mean six thousand dors inmission. Factoring in expenses, Lance could potentially earn over sixty-five hundred dors on just that one debt. ??????§§?

    ¡°Mr. Jobav, if someone is borrowing suchrge sums and you¡¯re willing to lend to them, they must be local elites, correct?¡±

    The question made Jobav realize where the problemy.

    It wasn¡¯t just hispany; 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 dors.

    Capitalists and social elites hadworks of friends who would hear their grievances. Soon, Lance would earn a reputation as a ¡°despicable debt hound¡± among ovepping 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 immediatelybeled 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 manipte 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 ss, clinking it against Jobav¡¯s in a gesture that left thetter 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 dors 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 modestmission. But Lance wasn¡¯t foolish enough to risk offending the city¡¯s elite and capitalists for a few thousand dors¡ªor even tens of thousands.

    These people had connections. They would vent their frustrations within theirworks, and soon Lance would be known across ovepping 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 onest 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 manipte 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 tly 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 ss, 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.<hr>

    As he watched Lance leave, Jobav frowned deeply.

    He had previously approached the Camille Gang to help recover a ten-thousand-dor debt. They demanded five thousand dors upfront and required him to cover all collection expenses¡ªwith no guarantees of sess.

    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 simr 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 sentencese 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 dors in taxes was hit with a million-dor fine on the grounds that ¡°failure to impose a severe penalty would encourage others to disregard thew.¡±

    Conversely, corporations that defrauded investors of millions were often allowed to pay a tokenpensation 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 That

    After Lance left, Mr. Jobav¡¯s assistant immediately approached, taking the ss 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 eximed 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 ny 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 ies 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 dors from him.

    Mr. Williams, a senior councilman in Jingang City, had served for over twenty years andmanded 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 capitalistworking 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 dors.

    Desperate to expand his connections among the city¡¯s elite, and with twenty-five hundred being a rtively 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 moneyundering¡ªrumors that he imed to have quashed.

    If Jobav didn¡¯t want his bank and ounts investigated, he had better ¡°know what to do.¡±

    So Jobav knew what to do. He retrieved ten stacks of ten-dor 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 ckmailed him.

    This wasn¡¯t an isted 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 andmoners¡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 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.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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 nevere back. This effort is myst 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 ept.¡±

    If he didn¡¯t show them his strength, they¡¯d keeping, and he couldn¡¯t keep refusing.

    While he was beginning to waver internally, the fear of appearing weak kept him from making a decision.<hr>

    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 welltely?¡±

    Bolton¡¯s warmth wasn¡¯t surprising¡ªhe always weed wealthypatriots.

    "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 someplications, 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 dors a month, and it involves a lot of manualbor."

    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 heavybor..."

    "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¡¯te 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 dors a month.

    If they managed to handle Lance¡¯s tasks well, they might earn a few extra dors, or even ten or twenty. For young men in theirte teens or early twenties, brimming with restless energy, the prospect was deeply enticing. They needed money¡ªand now they had a chance.<hr>

    Sunday''s issue of <em>Jingang Daily</em> 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 spection.

    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¡¯srgest ports, and the sailors who spent money here were a vital source of the city¡¯s ie.

    Even Johnny¡¯s bakery wasn¡¯t spared the discussion.<hr>

    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.

    ording to an apprentice''s testimony, the police had apprehended the robbers responsible for the break-in. Unfortunately, of the thousand-plus dors 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.

    Themunity sympathized with Johnny¡¯s plight and admired his bread.<hr>

    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 <em>should</em> do is put it in my mouth, not lecture me!¡±

    Sighing, his daughter ced 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 apletely 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 rk. For the foreseeable future, I¡¯ll be responsible for patrolling and maintainingw and order in the neighborhood.¡±

    ¡°I heard you¡¯ve run into some trouble¡­¡± rk nced 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 awyer and sue their families for¡­pensation for your losses.¡± His eyes flicked to Johnny¡¯s arm, and he almost burst outughing.

    Johnny had already be 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 rk but forced himself to engage. ¡°Thank you for letting me know. This is good news, but as you can see, I can¡¯t afford awyer right now.¡±

    ¡°By the way, I¡¯d like to ask¡ªwill they hire awyer?¡±

    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, thew was of little benefit to the poor, as most couldn¡¯t afford awyer. The Federation¡¯s justice system had effectively be a toy for the wealthy.Ordinary people,cking legal knowledge, stood no chance against professional attorneys. Even as victims, they could end up behind bars.

    Currently, hiring a criminalwyer in the Federation was far from cheap. Even a guaranteed victory in a case required a minimum of a hundred dors, with no upper limit. Additionally,wyers often demanded 15% to 30% of any court-orderedpensation as a ¡°service fee.¡±

    Johnny hoped the other party couldn¡¯t afford awyer either. That way, he wouldn¡¯t have to spend extra money and might even secure somepensation.

    rk 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 rk¡¯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 dors a month.¡±

    ¡°Pay monthly.¡±

    This was the only viable solution. Before John left, he had drained every merchant in the area.

    After taking over, rk 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 yed a role in this.

    rk didn¡¯t want a nasty reputation for himself. Eventually, they settled on a monthly fee of fifty dors for thriving businesses and thirty dors for others. Shops barely making thirty dors a month in profit?

    rk and his partner would force them out, handing the space to more capable merchants.

    For rk, 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, rk¡¯s expression hardened.

    Taking a deep breath, rk 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 dors.¡±

    Johnny stared at him for a moment, his voice hoarse with frustration. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not all talk, unlike John.¡±

    rk¡¯s smile returned. ¡°You¡¯ll see me keep this neighborhood safe and sound!¡±n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    Johnny gathered all the loose change in his money box, though he was still a few dors short. rk didn¡¯t seem to care about the small bills. He grabbed the money, pocketed it, and added, ¡°You¡¯re short five dors. 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 d 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, rk tossed the collected money into a bup 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.<hr>

    That afternoon, worse news arrived. A court notice informed Johnny of the hearing date¡ªand that the opposing party had hired a defensewyer. Without awyer 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 dors. He withdrew a portion and visited a modestw firm, paying twenty dors for a consultation.

    Thewyer assured Johnny there was no need to worry. His apprentice had nned and executed a violent robbery. As the sole victim, Johnny¡¯s position was solid, even against a top-tierwyer from Jingang City.

    Thewyer exined that the opposing side could only aim to reduce their clients¡¯ sentences and fines. To achieve this, they might offerpensation to seek Johnny¡¯s forgiveness, which would work in his favor.

    Reassured, Johnny thanked thewyer and left, although the wasted twenty dors still stung. He hadn¡¯t nned to hire awyer anyway, making the consultation unnecessary.<hr>

    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 longsting, key to his sess.

    By six o¡¯clock, the rush was over. After closing up, Johnny had his daughter wheel him to the disy window. He gazed at the city, its colorsing alive in the darkening sky.

    Lost in thought, he only noticed the small card on the table beside him when his daughter came to clean up:

    <strong>Wanli Financial Consulting: Solving Your Financial Worries.</strong>

 Chapter 51: The Wooden Door and the Wooden Table

    Chapter 51: The Wooden Door and the Wooden Table

    Morning 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 totalmission of eleven dors. While eleven dors 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 dors in actual ie. To put it into perspective, eleven dors was roughly equivalent to a month¡¯s ie 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, distributingmissions 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 dors 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 tobo. Flue-cured tobo wasn¡¯t widely avable yet, as the market for female smokers hadn¡¯t grown enough for cigarettepanies to take notice. When women began linking smoking with the fight for women¡¯s rights, cigarettepanies 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 popted 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 ce 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 apany, his father earned a base sry of twenty dors a month, but only if he closed at least one deal. Each additional sale brought in amission. 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 be the next big sess¡ªowning his office, hispany, even his brand. However, his reality was far less morous, 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-respectpletely 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 ce 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.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    ¡°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 ce 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 nce 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 ce out.¡±

    The bouncer¡¯s gaze swept over the group again, settling on Ennio. ¡°Got money?¡±

    Ennio pulled out two five-dor 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, othersughed 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 apanied his father here, running errands like fetching cigarettes or snacks. Sometimes, other patrons tipped him a penny or two for errands.

    Morris exined the games to his friends, pointing out a popr ckjack table. ¡°This is ckjack. Three of the tables here run ckjack games,¡± he said. Each table had six seats, but even those standing behind the yers could ce bets. Sitting at the table, however, gave a more immersive experience.

    ckjack had recently be popr in the Federation, spreading to every casino and attractingrge crowds. Compared to moreplicated games, ckjack¡¯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 dors in mere moments. He had never seen so much money in his life.

    Morris, moreposed, cautioned him. ¡°It¡¯s addicting.¡±

 Chapter 53: Crossing the Line

    Chapter 53: Crossing the Line

    With a loud ng, the door swung open. The burly man inside stood with his hands on his hips, ring at Ennio. ¡°This isn¡¯t a yground. 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 regtions.

    To operate legally, casinos needed full documentation and special licenses. Legitimate casinos paid hefty taxes¡ª83% of their ie 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 citypared to others steeped in illegal activities like smuggling, kidnapping, extortion, and protection rackets.

    While the Kodaks weren¡¯tpletely uninvolved in such crimes, their casino profitsrgely 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:<ol> <li> Install a Kodak ountant and hand over 70% of their revenue as an ¡°authorization fee.¡±</li> <li> Pay a hefty fine, shut down, and leave Jingang City permanently.</li> </ol>

    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 exined.

    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 ckjack table, waving cash as he ced his bets. ckjack¡¯s appealy in its semnce of fairness¡ªat leastpared to other games.

    The gambler was having a lucky streak, already up twelve dors. It seemed he had recouped his losses.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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 dors inmissions. Not everyone borrowed the full hundred; many only took thirty or fifty, which reduced the payouts slightly.

    Even so, fourteen dors 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. Thepany had closed for the day, and Lance had gone home. Seeing the sess of Ennio¡¯s loans, Lance decided to rent a small property nearby to set up a ¡°branch office.¡± A cheap ce costing two or three dors a month would suffice¡ªit was for business, notfort.

    ---

    When the casino closed, the dealers gathered to chat.

    ¡°Did you hear? That gambler lost over a hundred bucks today,¡± one ckjack dealer said,ughing.

    The others chuckled. As skilled professionals, they had techniques to ensure the house always won. For instance, they often ced 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 ckjack. Combined with thest 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 dors 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 augh. After expenses, dealer cuts, and other costs, he¡¯dted about twenty-five dors 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 exin 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 ttery,¡± the owner interrupted,ughing. ¡°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 in 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.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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-dor-per-pound beef a luxury, tasting ham for the first time was a revtion. Even the thin slices in their sandwiches filled them with new hope for the future.

    ¡°This is amazing,¡± Ennio eximed, 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 vor¡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!¡± Thebination 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 vor 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 simr sentiments. Although the breakfast had cost over a dor, they didn¡¯t feel it was extravagant. After all, they now earned ten or more dors daily¡ªabout two dors 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, ncing at hispanions.

    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 trivialpared to facing thesewless men.

    ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t know there were rules. This is my first time doing this,¡± Ennio stammered, trying to exin.

    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 sessfully registered abor agency under the name "Wanli Labor Agency," specializing in hiring workers and leasingbor. Of course, the paperwork didn¡¯t state these purposes explicitly.

    Jingang City had many such agencies, some already well-established. Thergest share of the market had long been imed, but Lance wasn¡¯t toote. He had his resources.

    As he arrived at his office, he noticed Morris sitting outside, with Mello trying tofort 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 exin and asked us whichpany we worked for. We didn¡¯t tell them,¡± Morris said, sneaking a nce 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 rtionship was merely transactional; Ennio wasn¡¯t obligated to protect him.

    If anything, Lance thought Ennio was foolish for enduring torture before talking. The information would¡¯vee 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 nced at him, greeting him with a half-hearted wave before returning to her crossword puzzle.

    Lance found Fordis in the break room ying 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 thest 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 athe. 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, reced by awe. To him, a gun represented absolute power.

 Chapter 56: Stand Tall, and Donâ€™t Apologize

    Chapter 56: Stand Tall, and Don¡¯t Apologize

    Fifteen hundred dors was a significant sum for this era.

    When Lance returned to the casino after a brief absence and ced 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 hispanions. 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 dered,ughing heartily. Anyone willing to hand over fifteen hundred dors 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-dor 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 gazended 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 nonchntly, Kent handed the cash bag to his ountant. ¡°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 policest month, he¡¯d met with the precinct chief and his assistant. For a few dozen dors 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 escted. ???¨°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 receable.

    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 arge 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 dors a month for the next fifty years? Great joke. You¡¯ve got meughing.¡±

    Releasing him, Lance turned to the group. ¡°I¡¯ve told Elvin and Ethan before: if someone ps 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 dors¡ªwith interest!¡±

    ¡°They broke your arm and beat you to a pulp. We¡¯ll return the favor twice over.¡±n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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 dors. ¡°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 dors¡ªwas it a lot? Absolutely. But earning it back wouldn¡¯t take long.

    There¡¯s a saying: the most profitable businesses are written into criminalw. 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 exined the situation briefly. Fury shed across Elvin¡¯s face.

    Lately, Elvin had grown more confident, thanks to the group¡¯s increasing unity and financial sess. Even when faced with trouble, they believed one thing: Lance would have their backs.

    ¡°What¡¯s the n?¡± 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 didst night!¡±

    A freckled young man with sandy brown hair sat under a sunshade by the roadside, holding a ss 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¡¯tpare 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 donest 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 outughing. ¡°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.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    Momentster, 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 t. 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-dor bills and ced them on the counter. ¡°Just a little incident. You and your staff didn¡¯t see us, right?¡±

    The caf¨¦ owner, ncing 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, reced 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 red 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 re 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 dors 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 alwayses.¡±

    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 minutester, 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 ambnce,¡± 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 hadyers.

    When the ambnce 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 reced byughter. 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 Acquisitions

    Ennio stirred as someone nudged him awake. He was about toin 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 trucking.¡±

    The night was quiet, amplifying every sound. A conversation like this, unnoticed during the day, could easily be overheard now.

    Peeking out from the alley, Ennio spotted a truck moving slowly toward the corner.

    Earlier in the day, he had visited amunity hospital where a doctor confirmed that his radius was fractured but not severely. With a splint in ce, 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 formallybeled 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 arger area, but the Red Dogs spanned two districts. Beneath these major yers 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 exined.

    Alberto, ever amodating, didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Pick out what you need. Oh, and I¡¯ve got a surprise for youter.¡±

    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 abined 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 yed along, taking a puff. The cigar wasn¡¯t particrly 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 withughter. ¡°Toote! 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 umting favors, knowing they often came with strings attached. Rejecting Alberto¡¯s offer now prevented futureplications.

    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¡¯sw 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 wasing next.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

 Chapter 59: Donâ€™t Be the One Left in the Sewers

    Chapter 59: Don¡¯t Be the One Left in the Sewers

    After returning to thepany, Lance took everyone to the western cliffs near the port to test the handguns. The area was deste, 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 wasughable. In fact, Lance had heard of gang conflicts in other cities escting to the use of armored vehicles. A few rounds from handguns were practically tame byparison.

    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 weremon. Lance had once heard of a hapless man who bought a gun from the ck market and used it in a robbery. Though he fired only warning shots and stole a mere few dors, 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 dors.¡±

    He knew the number by heart¡ªit represented not just their collective ie but also his share of nearly 900 dors. With three days left in the week, they were on track to earn enough that each person would pocket 40 to 50 dors.

    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 dted 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¡ªand 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.

    Elvin nodded, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. ¡°He¡¯s famous. An Empire immigrant, isn¡¯t he? Rumored to own a bank.¡±n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    ¡°I spoke to himst week. He¡¯s been extorted for tens of thousands of dors 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 dered, ¡°I¡¯d give them a bullet to send them straight to hell!¡±

    Heughed, pping 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 ce. They haven¡¯te 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 n 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¡¯sing with me?¡±

    Lance didn¡¯t pressure anyone. He understood not everyone was cut out for violence. A scared, unwilling participant could be 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 toe 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 bedte 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 gori¡¯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: Whatâ€™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 wasing 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, arge bag of fruit sd worth a dor, 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 vor. The best part of this trip, he thought, savoring the morsel.He intentionally picked out the juiciest pieces for himself, nning 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 umon 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 bnce, 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 red 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 reced 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 assants wouldn¡¯t dare go too far. He likely thought, The more I endure, the harsher my revengeter.

    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.¡±n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    Anyone foolish enough to linger mightter 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 escte.¡± His angry re 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 dered, ¡°This isn¡¯t my fight. I didn¡¯t touch anyone yesterday!¡±

    Lance tilted his head toward the stairs. ¡°Downstairs. Now.¡±

    The guards exchanged panicked nces, silently cursing their boss for choosing a basement casino. Once a ce of safety, the underground venue now felt like a death trap.

    Reluctantly, they descended, the ck 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 andughing 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.

    ¡°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 Hungry

    Kent was starving. After workingte 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, copsed back to the floor. Supporting himself with one hand for bnce, 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 ced 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¡¯de 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 andyers of juicy fat. The scent alone made everyone hungrier.

    ¡°Fantastic! I love pork knuckles!¡± Lance eximed 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 tworge 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 financepany,¡± he mumbled.

    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.¡±n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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 tant 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 cor, 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 iled, unable to breathe, his struggles futile against Ethan¡¯s towering, muscr 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 red 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 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 intiff 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 ourwyer 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 awyer.¡±

    Johnny¡¯s patience thinned, and his voice unconsciously grew louder¡ªamon trait among those from humbler backgrounds when their authority was questioned.

    ¡°I told you, I consulted thewyer! I¡¯m the undisputed victim here. A judge won¡¯t ignore my injuries just because they hired awyer and im I attacked them alone!¡±

    ¡°This case will boil down to one thing: how much they¡¯llpensate 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 awyer, as onlywyers would dress so impably.

    ¡°Mr. Johnny?¡± Thewyer¡¯s tone was haughty as he extended a hand, expecting Johnny to shake it.

    That condescending gaze made Johnny feel humiliated, even though thewyer had done nothing more than address him.

    After a brief pause, Johnny nodded but motioned to his immobile hands. ¡°That¡¯s me, so¡­¡±

    Thewyer retracted his hand and nced back. Only then did Johnny notice a group of young peopleughing and chatting at the other end of the hallway.

    He recognized them instantly. The memory of their brutal attack reyed in his mind, his blood pressure rising. ¡°You want me to forgive them?¡±

    Thewyer 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 nce at thewyer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡­¡±

    Thewyer shrugged nonchntly. ¡°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.

    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 red, 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 thewyers¡¯ and those kids¡¯ despicable actions to the judge, just like in the courtroom dramas he¡¯d seen. ?§¡?§°?§¦?

    Thewyer 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 thewyer 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 hade with good intentions.

    Twenty minutester, the session began. Johnny was wheeled to the intiff¡¯s seat, and the judge entered hurriedly, looking fatigued.

    After the formalities, the judge nced at Johnny. ¡°Did yourwyer arrivete, or did you not hire one?¡±n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    Johnny shook his head. ¡°Your Honor, I consulted awyer. 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 theirwyer, he said, ¡°The intiff has no representation. You may proceed.¡±

    Thewyer 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¡­¡±

    Thewyer presented documents showing that four of the defendants had been diagnosed with conduct disorders and a predisposition toward violence. He exined 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 theirmunity service participation,pletion 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 me shifted to the apprentice, who had convinced his friends to act.

    The apprentice¡¯s mother had begged thewyer for help, using every means at her disposal. Touched¡ªor persuaded¡ªthewyer took on the case, though he warned her that her son was likely to face a sentence of three to five years.

    He exined 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 exemry youths but fit the description of average, eptable Federation citizens.

    Turning to Johnny, who sat cluelessly in his seat, the judge asked thewyer, ¡°You mentioned that one of these youths was oppressed and humiliated?¡±

    Thewyer looked to the apprentice, who stood and replied, ¡°Yes, Your Honor.¡±

    The judge pursed his lips. ¡°Can you exin 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 hisbor, 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 andpassion 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 ountable for every word you say. Your statements will shape the oue 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 defensewyer, raised his hand to request permission to question Johnny.

    The judge nodded. ¡°Proceed.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Johnny, you im 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 andplicated. 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 viin.

    The judge exhaled slowly. ¡°Closing statements, please.¡±

    Johnny, bewildered, stayed silent, while Anthony delivered a well-prepared argument.

    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,munity 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 sessfulwyers 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 dered.

    Anthony¡¯sposure reassured the young defendants and their families, though Johnny sulked, realizing he might have been outyed. He cursed himself for not hiring awyer, 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 ofmunity service each.

    - Three others received over 100 hours ofmunity service.

    - All were ordered to return the stolen money and pay additionalpensation for medical expenses and emotional distress.

    Because Johnny hadn¡¯t hired awyer or presented specific ims, the court awarded only standard damages.

    The apprentice, as the case¡¯s central figure, received a lenient sentence. Taking into ount his circumstances and the humiliation he endured, the judge sentenced him to 3.5 years in prison with 200 hours ofmunity service upon release.

    Anthony celebrated the oue with his clients and their families, who expressed gratitude. ¡°Frankly,¡± he admitted, ¡°we owe this to Mr. Johnny¡¯s decision not to hire awyer. 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 exnation 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.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 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 rtionship.¡±

    ¡°Alright, see you soon.¡±

    Lukar was contacting one of his informants. In the Federation, particrly 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¡ªbutcked 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 awork of over ten individuals.For some marginalized groups¡ªlegal or illegal immigrants¡ªbing 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 asional ie.

    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 apany 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 rtionship between police and citizens.

    Lance also transferred several young employees, who hadn¡¯t apanied him to confront Kent, to thebor 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 exined. ¡°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¡¯spany 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 financialpanies, 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 cements, 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 sunsses, stepped out.

    He nced at Lance, nodded briefly, and walked past him into the caf¨¦ to order an iced coffee. While waiting, he turned and noticed thebor 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 ced his hands on his hips and pointed to the agency¡¯s sign. ¡°What¡¯s this ¡®work n management¡¯ about? I don¡¯t get it.¡±

    Lance exined, ¡°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.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    Lukar chuckled. ¡°Genius. I¡¯ve never heard of apany doing this. You¡¯re bound to seed.¡±

    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 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.¡±n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    ¡°See you!¡± Lance replied.

 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 rtionship 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 answeredzily, ¡°Mr. Jobav, what can I do for you?¡±

    The use of "Mr. Jobav" was Cohen¡¯s way of sounding familiar, even deferential.

    Jobav nced at the receiver, feeling the situation was absurd. ¡°If you¡¯re busy, I can call backter.¡±

    ¡°Busy?¡± Cohen chuckled. ¡°Not at all, both hands are free! What can I help you with today?¡±Cohen¡¯s tone wasced with mockery. Their past interactions had been indirect, often mediated through assistants or even their assistants'' rtives. 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 thest thing he wanted.

    While Jobav¡¯s avoidance of direct contact was practical, it had always irked Cohen. Initially, when Cohen was just a struggling neer, he hadn¡¯t minded. But as he rose through the gang''s ranks, theck 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 sess 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 rified coldly.

    The Brotherhood¡¯s origins as a child gang had once been front-page news in The Federation Times. The Port District¡¯s challenges wereplex, stemming from its transient poption of sailors and tourists. After long voyages, many sought out the district¡¯s infamous services.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    Some providers operated professionally in organized settings with safety protocols. Others, however, were desperate individuals engaging in unregted 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 Federationws that allowed childbor. 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 dered, ¡°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 ownwork, 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 epted 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¡¯sst.

    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 onest 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 offeringpanionship services wore cheap, often secondhand, revealing clothes. They stood under streetlights at alley corners, conducting quick, transactional business.

    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 yful banter, giving the illusion of a spontaneous romance.

    Downtown, business was high-end and direct. Clients needed deep pockets to enjoy the finest services avable.

    Each district had its own version of prosperity. To say the Port District wasn¡¯t bustling would be wrong¡ªthe streets were filled withmerce 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.

    asionally, 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 ie streams were diverse¡ªprotection rackets, extortion, kidnapping, forcedbor deals, and smuggling.

    No one knew exactly how much they earned monthly, but it was enough for their leader, ¡°Big Polly,¡± to buy a vi in the Bay Area.

    Yet Polly preferred to stay in the Port District. The Bay Area was a yground 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 nced at the handkerchief, but Polly¡¯s voice drew his attention away.

    ¡°I hear you¡¯ve been quite the big spender at the casinotely. Care to exin?¡±

    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 thepany¡¯s money. That affects everyone here¡ªyou understand, right?¡±

    Jimmy nodded frantically. ¡°I swear, Polly, I didn¡¯t touch a single cent of thepany¡¯s money. The ounts are already with the ountant.¡±

    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¡¯sughter was peculiar, his shoulders shaking with each guffaw. But just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 thepany¡¯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 bnced the ounts 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, nned escape routes, and even nted 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 ack 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 exin 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 ring horns startled Jimmy, who turned to see a man recklessly crossing the road. Their eyes met.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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 nce 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 nned 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 pistoly 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.

    The adrenaline that had kept him going finally wore off, and the pain in his shoulder red 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 thebyrinth 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 exined, pointing to a submachine gun lying nearby. ¡°That¡¯s the gun I used.¡±

    Hunter exchanged a weary nce 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 nced 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 Wages

    Gunfights erupting at night in Jingang City aremon, but an intense shootout in broad daylight is rare.

    Though brief, this urred 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 sped 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.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 sessful.

    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 exnation.¡±

    The assistant opened his mouth, wanting to admit they had indeed hired someone unreliable, but struggled to exin the role his nephew yed.

    Eventually, he sighed. ¡°This is on me.¡±

    Mr. Jobav shot him a sideways nce. ¡°This isn¡¯t about whose fault it is. It¡¯s about whether we¡¯ll be exposed.¡±

    The assistant pursed his lips and carefully exined, ¡°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 heposed 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 wee for revenge!¡±

    ¡°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, andpetent. 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 g, 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, intion 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 epted Mr. Jobav¡¯s invitation. They scheduled a meeting two dayster.

    After his assistant left, Mr. Jobav was filled with frustration and helplessness¡ªmore of thetter.

    Over the years, he had witnessed the ugly side of the Federation and resented his own Imperial identity.

    If possible, he longed to be 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 ss. Mr. Jobav faced them too, albeit from more formidable and untouchable forces.<hr>

    Meanwhile, Elvin brought a small-statured man to Lance¡¯s office.

    ¡°This is Hiram, my cousin¡¯s ssmate.¡±

    ¡°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 nced at Elvin, who gestured for Hiram to exin his situation.

    ¡°Well, Mr. Lance,¡± Hiram began, ncing at Elvin. ¡°We¡¯ve all heard that you¡¯re the most sessful and capable among us young people.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve encountered an injustice recently. The ce I work refused to pay our wages, iming 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 toply with regtions. However, ignoring thew entirely¡ªemployers hiring and workers epting 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, viting Federationws 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 80: Congratulations on Getting Rich

    Chapter 80: Congrattions on Getting Rich

    The dimly lit bar was filled with an ambiguous glow, asionally casting light on people''s faces. A few patrons seated at the counter nced 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 particrly 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¡ªarge 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, nced 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 sses. Each ss contained about two ounces of whiskey¡ªnot precisely measured to the gram but roughly estimated from years of experience.

    Each ss of Napper whiskey cost 29 cents. A single bottle could yield about 11 servings. Technically, it could pour 12 sses asbeled, but asionally 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 ss high. "To our generous Lord Jason!"

    "To Jason!"

    Jasonughed heartily and raised his ss. "Another round for them!"

    After taking a sip of his drink, Jason turned his attention back to the stripper before him.

    In Jingang City, thew 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 dors. Watching her strip away each piece of clothing and teasing with enticing movements, Jason was already flush with excitement.

    The five dors 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 dors 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 avable.

    Jason swallowed hard, his voice rasping. "How much for you toe with me?"

    "Ten dors."

    Of that, three dors 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 intoughter. Jason yfully 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 dor had been added to his ie.

    "So, here to settle up?"

    "Yeah. How much?"

    The bartender tallied up the bill: seven drinks, one beef burger...

    "12 dors and 53 cents. Let¡¯s make it 12 even."

    Jason handed over 20 dors and waited for his change.

    "You struck it rich, didn¡¯t you?" The bartender prodded as he counted out the change.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    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 nce at the upants¡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 eleration 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 andnded 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.

    Minutester, 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 dors a month. When returning to the Empire, the neighbor exaggeratedly imed, "In the Federation, you can find money just by lowering your head!"

    He painted the Federation as and 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 goldennd described. He even struggled to find food. The neighbor who imed to earn over a hundred dors a month? He worked as a dishwasher at a restaurant, earning 22 dors a month with a free lunch. Take it or leave it.Now estranged from the Empire, the tailor lived with his daughter, son-inw, and grandchildren in a dpidated 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 uniqueziness 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?"

    "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-inw 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."n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    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-inw were ovee with gratitude, tearfully thanking Lance for his generosity.

    Back in the Empire, they had been middle-ss. 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 dors, and recent tensions between natives and illegal immigrants had left his son-inw 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 ount," 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 cors. Do your best, and we¡¯ll have many opportunities to coborate 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-inw to assist, the measurements took some time. But being invited by Lance to thepany 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 nced at him. "What is it?"

    "The union isn¡¯t happy with ourrge-scale use of leased work cards. They think we¡¯re disrupting thebor 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 wouldter be.

    The slogan "Workers Unite!" originated here in the Federation.

    If the union believed Lance¡¯s actions disrupted thebor 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 sses. 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 ns for his future.

    "That¡¯s a big number!" Lance acknowledged Shawn¡¯s efforts before turning to Elvin. "Find out who¡¯sining and arrange a meeting for me. I¡¯ll handle it."

    Then, looking at Shawn, Lance said, "Our growth will be rapid. We need a reliablewyer. I n to send you to college to studyw."

    Shawn was stunned but ted. Lawyers were respected and influential in both the Federation and the Empire.

    "Mr. Lance, I don¡¯t know how to thank you! I¡¯ll be a greatwyer!"

    Lance pped him on the shoulder. "Don¡¯t neglect your current work until I find a recement."

    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 yfully 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 ncing 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 avability.

    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 anyst 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 hiddenpartment¡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. Itpletely killed any thoughts of lying.

    "Yes, yes! The money is there!"

    Lance nodded nomittally. "Second question: how many people know you suddenly came into money?"

    Jason began sweating profusely. The salt from his sweat stung his wounds, andbined with the stifling heat, his difort 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 rx.

    "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 circr 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 asional personal interactions, while others settled for side or rear views.

    The presence ofpetitors often sparked bidding wars among intoxicated patrons eager to outdo each other. Some would escte from tipping one dor 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, dposing 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?"n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    "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¡¯te 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,mb 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.

    "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 Rtives

    The smiles faded from the faces of the young crowd, reced by a mix ofplex 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 exined 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.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    The group decided to empty the warehouse of its liquor stock, which was sessfully 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 ording to their agreed wages, and Elvin had deposited the surplus funds into thepany ount, 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,pletely 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 wouldst 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, heshed out. Though bound, he iled 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 stter 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 hisposed 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 ck with fear. His dder 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, sttering 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 ced wooden nks 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 outeryer would harden by morning. The drum¡¯s sturdy, airtight lid, made of rubber and multiple mechanical mps, 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 thepany ount. Some of you may not fully understand what it¡¯s for, so let me exin."

    "For example, the new clothes we¡¯re getting¡ªthose are covered by thepany ount. This will be a tradition.

    "Every year, there will be three spring/summer outfits, two fall/winter outfits, and one winter coat.

    "I also n 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, thepany ount will cover these expenses. You won¡¯t have to pay for anything.

    "If any of you get hurt, your medical expenses will alsoe from the ount."

    "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 yourrades.

    "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-blueke that seemed to merge with the sky.

    As the drum, filled with Jason and their shared resolve, was pushed into theke, Lance quipped, "The experts won¡¯t realize it, but we¡¯ve contributed to this year¡¯s risingke levels."

    It was a hellish joke that only Jason could fully appreciate.

    Afterward, the group moved on to camping and barbecuing, enjoying generous servings of grilled meat.

    The boys stripped off their shirts to swim in theke, while the girls, donning swimsuits, rejoined the lively mood.

    Sitting on a small hill, Lance watched the shimmeringke reflect the sunlight and theughter of hispanions.

    By evening, they packed up and left, taking everything with them¡ªexcept their troubles, which they left behind, sinking deep into theke 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 imed 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 ce.

    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 bothpetence and allure. Her sweet face had a calming effect, especially on the gentlemen who walked through the doors.

    "Wee 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 awyer to consult about a tax issue. I don¡¯t have an appointment."

    The receptionist flipped through the appointment book. "Mr. Gus is avable right now. He¡¯s one of the top tax attorneys in Jingang City, with a win rate of over 95%."I highly rmend him. If you¡¯d prefer someone else, I can arrange that, but they¡¯re all currently unavable."

    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 dors 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 dors! 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 otherwyer had advised him not to hire legal counsel, causing him to embarrass himself in court and lose out on additionalpensation he might have deserved.

    Johnny shot her a re 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-rted 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 morous or lucrative forw firms,pared 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-ss 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 calcte your monthly ie and file your taxes?"

    Johnny nced at his daughter before exining, "Both my daughter and I work at the bakery. We each take a sry of fifty dors a month. The bakery¡¯s profits are usually around a hundred dors monthly."

    Mr. Gus immediately honed in on the issue. "So, your tax filings only report your operational profits, ignoring the sries paid to yourself and your daughter?"

    For decades, the Federation¡¯s taxws had been a convoluted mess, with policies fluctuating depending on which president was in office. Some even promised "no personal ie tax" as a campaign pledge.

    While recent amendments to the tax code had rified 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 sries from his filings, while not intentional, constituted tax evasion under currentw.

    "I¡¯m not an ountant," 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 sry?" Mr. Gus asked.

    "No, who does that?" Johnny replied indignantly. "But I swear, I pay her fifty dors every month!"

    His daughter chimed in hastily, "It¡¯s true! My father gives me fifty dors 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 statew, individual operators are required to file taxesbining their operational ie and personal ie. By only reporting your business ie and ignoring your sries, you¡¯ve effectively underreported your earnings."

    He paused before delivering the grim news. "The oue of this case seems clear-cut to me."n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 awyer, 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 rmend someone."

    Johnny felt crushed. Seeing his despair, Mr. Gus added, "Thewyer I¡¯m rmending 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 dors."

    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 ounts 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; Itâ€™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 ounts were frozen. Worse yet, ording to Mr. Gus, even the best-case oue¡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 oue.

    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 whaty ahead, Johnny would need at least $3,000.

    When he asked Mr. Gus what would happen if he couldn¡¯t pay, thewyer 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 dors 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 dors. They were staring down a gaping financial abyss of several thousand dors.

    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 ce she could live in after marriage.

    But now, that promise seemed unlikely to be fulfilled.

    Johnny, despite his shorings, cared deeply for his daughter. Seeing her disheartened expression, he attempted tofort her.

    ¡°Think of the positives,¡± he said. ¡°The bakery still brings in a steady ie 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 internwyer rmended 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,¡± thewyer warned. ¡°And it¡¯s high.¡±

    When Johnny asked what would happen if he couldn¡¯t pay, the youngwyer,cking 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 Broa Bank and sat before a loan manager, an older man with sses. After reviewing Johnny¡¯s application form and making two phone calls, the manager raised his eyebrows.

    ¡°Mr. Johnny, if you use your house as coteral, 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 ounts 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.¡±

    Gathering Johnny¡¯s papers into a folder, the manager added, ¡°Feel free to consider other banks or financialpanies.¡±

    Seething, Johnny snatched the documents, ring at the security guard outside. Swallowing his anger, he muttered, ¡°This bloodsucking ce¡ªI¡¯m nevering back.¡±

    ---

    Johnny next tried Baihui Bank and Jincheng Bank.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    Baihui¡¯s loan manager offered $1,750¡ª$250 more than Broa¡ªciting simr reasons for the undervaluation. Still, Johnny found it uneptable 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 exined, ¡°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 ount.¡±

    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 financepany¡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 apetitive 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 immigrantmunity had been growing steadily, and many greeted him warmly as he passed.

    Lance skillfully cultivated this public image, knowing that greater sess required him to be 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. Thatck 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 be 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 immigrantmunity. I¡¯m d 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 ufortable. 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 tant 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, theck 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-nk¡± 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 eximed 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 nced 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 arge 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 pped him on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll give you an address. Take care of your family matters first, thene 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 ns.

    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 coulde 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 stepster, she knocked on Patricia¡¯s door.

    ¡°Can Ie in?¡±

    Patricia, slightly flustered, nced 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.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    Patricia spun around, wide-eyed. ¡°That¡¯s not appropriate!¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Mrs. Lawrence asked gently. ¡°Is it because you two haven¡¯t defined your rtionship? Or is there another reason?¡±

    Struggling to answer, Patricia fidgeted.

    Mrs. Lawrence ced 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¡¯lle, 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 n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    Lance leaned against his car, a cigarette dangling from his lips, watching passersby on the street.

    The middle-ss 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 particrly 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 sses until a significant split urred 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 particr¡ªsometimes just feeling the wind was enough to be content.

    ¡°Lance!¡±

    Patricia emerged from themunity 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.¡±

    Beingplimented 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 essible 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 upant of their seat had done.  ?¨¤?????

    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 apuse¡ªtentative and subdued, like a frail old man unbuckling his belt in the restroom.

    Soon, however, the apuse swelled into a thunderous ovation. The audience was moved by the heroine¡¯s steadfast love, loyalty to her family, and enduring hope.

    Patricia pped 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 amon 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 smallpromise 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 gatedmunity, 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 mncholy 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 ne. Her radiant smile was natural¡ªor at least, not from wax.

    ¡°Wee, Lance,¡± she said, taking the brandy and passing it to her husband. ¡°Thank you for the thoughtful gift.¡±

    Mr. Lawrence nced 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 calcted first ¡°attack.¡±

 Chapter 89: The Dockworkersâ€™ 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 ck off.

    ¡°They also have to eat and drink, which cuts further into that ie. 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 ced 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 cing 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 exined, ¡°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 thew 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" epassed 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-ss leader. He carried himself with a certain polish that hinted at his experience in the political machinery ofbor advocacy.

    ¡°Mr. Lance,¡± Vaughn began as they settled into their seats, ¡°your Wanli Agency has been severely disrupting operations at the docks. Many workers haveined to me, saying you¡¯ve turned the ce 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 homnd is being invaded by illegal immigrants¡± had be 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¡¯sints. ¡°Vaughn¡ª¡±

    ¡°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 theints and are already addressing them. I¡¯ll ensure better management of the immigrantbor force.

    ¡°I¡¯m a Federation citizen too, Vaughn. My goal is to keep the docks running smoothly, not disrupt them.¡± N?v(el)B\\jnn

    After a pause, Lance added, ¡°I n to make a donation.¡±

    Vaughn, lost in thought, blinked. ¡°A donation?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Lance said. ¡°I¡¯ll allocate $300 from mypany¡¯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 samemunity. We need to support each other.¡±

    Vaughn perked up. ¡°That¡¯s a noble gesture, Lance. Verymendable.¡±

    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 forbor 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. ¡°Whatws prohibit me from helping workers and their families?

    ¡°Has Federationw 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 exin things to them.¡±

    Lance seized the opportunity to further his n. ¡°I also intend to provide uniforms for the immigrantborers, 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 ountability. 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 w. After a moment, he nodded. ¡°That could work¡ªclear identification and oversight. A solid n.¡±

    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 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 ced blind faith in newspapers, the public chose to believe this outrageous im 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 avable, 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 imed to have fully embraced the new regtions, 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 imed 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 ims 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 simr 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 sess, 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, themon folk continued their lives as usual¡ªeating, drinking, and grumbling.

    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? n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    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 ie plummet. Drunkards lost their entertainment. Bar owners lost their livelihoods. The result was mass protests.

    Perhaps this exined 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, thebor agency was experiencing a boom, with monthly ie 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 ie.

    They didn¡¯t have to worry about dealing with illegal immigrants¡ªthat was thebor 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 ce is bustling,¡± George remarked, raising his cup in a toast. ¡°I¡¯m d 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 mediandscape. 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 electionsing up next month, we all know the president will be re-elected¡­¡±

    George interrupted with a bitterugh. ¡°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, asionally adding his own ideas.

    ¡°We¡¯ll start with mybor 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 dor, and theborers keep a small portion.

    ¡°We¡¯ll begin by questioning whether this arrangement is legal and ethical. From there, we¡¯ll explore the tensions andpetition 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 somepelling 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!¡± Georgeughed. ¡°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 arepelling.¡±

    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 cor.

    The fit was impable¡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-inw¡ªit would be a while before they got their turn.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!