Chapter 1002: Anxiety, Causing Trouble, and Aren't You Despicable?

Ambassador Cassia sat in his office chair.

The back of the chair was very soft. It used some new federal materials. It was said to be similar to some kind of animal. As for how it was made, Ambassador Cassia was not an expert in this area.

But he knew that these chairs were very comfortable to sit in.

The filling in the seat cushion and the back of the chair was not the rather rigid cotton of the past. It would have a good experience at the beginning, but after being used for a little longer, it would become hard.

Now this filling material could ensure that these soft places could remain highly resilient and soft. In short, it was very comfortable.

The sunlight from outside the window shone on his body through the window. The heating in the room also isolated the cold from outside. The coffee on the desk was still rising with steam.

On a refreshment tray placed by the coffee tray, seven or eight kinds of pastries were put together.

Further aside were some documents. Diego was clearly not completely admitting defeat. He had asked Ambassador Cassia to find a way to contact the federal high-level directly, to see if there were any other ways to "make peace."

An ordinary day.

Recently, Ambassador Cassia had also been a little anxious. The reason for his anxiety was that the domestic situation was changing too fast.

One moment, the anti-government armed forces were "approaching Zhuolan, posing a huge threat to the Rapa government," and the next, it was "the government army has successfully defeated the conspiracy of the anti-government armed forces and is pushing forward again." The tragic degree of the war was even no less than the war that was breaking out on the Tanfit continent.

Maybe the people in the country were not clear where Rapa would eventually go, but he could already foresee it.

The federal people rarely discussed Rapa's situation, as if they really didn't care about Rapa.

However, he knew that Rapa's ending was already doomed. When some people, those ambitious people, had put it as a bargaining chip on the huge gambling table of the world, its ending was already doomed.

The problem that had made Ambassador Cassia feel anxious was precisely from here.

Once Rapa was completely annexed by the Federation, he, this ambassador, would become worthless.

The best destination for a worthless person is the garbage heap.

In the past, he had not had this view, until he had come to the Federation.

In the Federation, there were many such situations.

A valuable person will be valued, and be given important positions by the company. He can become the company's management, a partner, or even a shareholder.

But when he can no longer bring benefits to the company, and he himself has no value, he will be immediately kicked out, to join the ranks of the homeless people outside.

The reality of the federal people had made him feel some fear. If he had lost this identity of "diplomatic ambassador," what else could he do?

He picked up his coffee and took a sip. The coffee, which was thirty-something a pound, made it very difficult for even the most discerning person to find any major problems.

In the future, could he still, like now, treat it as a part of his life, and not as a luxury item?

After he had lost his income, how would he maintain his family's huge expenses?

How would he earn money to ensure that their quality of life would not change?

He was now, for these things, feeling anxious. With the development of some things, he felt that Rapa's "end point" was already not too far away.

Perhaps, he should find Lance to have a chat. Maybe Lance could give him some advice.

Just as he was worrying about the unseen future, some noisy sounds came from outside, from the bar's side.

According to Lance's design, a large part of the entire embassy had been given over to the bar, so the bar itself was also a part of the embassy's operation.

Just as some embassies would have a special shop, selling some of their own country's specialties, or promoting some of their own country's local customs.

The Rapa embassy had opened a bar inside. This seemed to be very normal.

Now many embassies had opened bars.

This practice had very well circumvented the Prohibition, and it also really made money.

However, the embassies that could be persuaded to open a bar in the embassy were not many, and the Rapa embassy was one of them.

He had never managed the operation of the bar. Those had nothing to do with him.

Sometimes people would also make trouble on the bar's side. After all, a business premises like a bar could not be without these. There would always be some who had overestimated their drinking capacity, and had also underestimated their own unreasonableness.

Ambassador Cassia put down his coffee, walked to the side of the window, and looked at the other side as much as possible.

He was a little embarrassed to open the window and to stick his head out to look. That would be a bit too... unseemly. After all, he was a diplomatic ambassador, not an ordinary person who wanted to watch the fun.

Although watching the fun is human nature, and also his nature.

He was not worried that these people would make a big deal out of it. This was New Golden City. The police came very quickly. Secondly, the bar belonged to Lance, and there were many thugs inside.

Before, every person who had come to make trouble would, in the end, be severely beaten, and then be thrown onto the road outside. This time, I'm afraid, would be no exception.

...

In the bar, a dozen or so of the troublemakers were being pressed to the ground. The entire bar was in a mess.

These people, after they had drunk too much, had suddenly begun to attack the people around them, and had, with some of the things around them, for example, chairs, stools, or other things, begun to smash the equipment in the bar.

In a very short time, the bar had completely fallen into chaos.

The manager of the bar had immediately had his thugs start to act, but there were many of these troublemakers, and soon some of the customers had fled.

The remaining, had all gathered at the edge, and seemed to be watching the fun.

The federal people like to watch the fun. Anyway, it wasn't them who were at a loss. Why wouldn't they love to watch?

After more than ten minutes of control, these people were all pressed to the ground.

Lance, after he had had Mador beat up Paige, had raised the security level of the bar by more than one level.

Now was a special situation. Congress had also warned them before, that before the end of the war, they could not have a firefight. So he was not worried that the Perez family would, at the risk of offending Congress, to have a firefight with him.

At the same time, he was also not worried that the Perez family would go to the south, to Likalai State to find trouble with him. If they had really done so, Lance would only have thanked them for their stupidity.

So after thinking and thinking, if these people wanted to retaliate against him, the only way they could find in New Golden City was the bar in the embassy.

Lance had arranged for more security forces, and had soon brought the situation under control.

But what he had not expected was that these people were not mainly smashing the bar.

What had made Lance the most disgusted was that they had indiscriminately attacked the customers around them.

The customers were injured, and were frightened. The next time, it was possible that they would no longer come. This showed that the person who had made this decision still had some brains.

Fortunately, now the people were under control. The manager was panting heavily. He had also joined the battle just now.

He looked around, and at the messy bar. He was a little irritable, so irritable that he wanted to kill these people.

But before that, he still had to tell Lance.

Lance had his own fixed residence in New Golden City. The call was transferred twice before it had finally found Lance, who was outside.

"What happened?" Lance's gentle voice appeared in the receiver. The manager's emotions were, at that moment, relieved a little.

He sorted out his thoughts and said, "The Perez family's men came to the bar to make trouble. They indiscriminately attacked our customers, and also smashed our bar."

Hearing the manager's description, Lance was also surprised at their choice. "Indiscriminately attacked our customers?"

"How are these customers now? Are they injured?"

The manager was a little depressed. "Yes, many are injured, and there are also a few who are more seriously injured. I have already had them sent to the hospital."

"Well done. We will pay for all the medical expenses. Tell them not to worry about the treatment costs. We will give them an explanation."

"What about those people?"

"Have they been caught?"

Manager: "Yes, they have already been controlled, and are still in the bar."

"Very good. I'll be right over."

Lance hung up the phone, and after excusing himself to the few friends he was chatting with, he had prepared to leave.

The ones he was chatting with were a few of the Empire immigrant merchants from the Golden State side.

Lance now had a high prestige in the Empire community. Even on the New Golden City side, it was the same.

These Empire merchants had invited Lance. Their purpose was to get in touch with Lance. When necessary, maybe they would have a favor to ask of Lance.

To go and find Lance only when you have a favor to ask, is certainly not as good as to contact him more often when you have nothing to do.

Lance's attitude towards these Empire merchants was also very good. In his opinion, these were all influence.

These Empire merchants were in the middle of a heated chat with Lance. They were talking about investing in Rapa and the Yalan region. Lance was very supportive of them doing so.

Now the federal policy side had a lot of preferential treatment, for example, tax rebates, and also subsidies. The same commodity, if sold in the Federation for one dollar, might only have a small profit.

But if it was sold in the Yalan region at a price of eighty cents, the profit generated would, on the contrary, be a little higher than in the federal homeland. So now many people were considering going to the Yalan side to do business.

It was just that the current Yalan was also a little chaotic. These people had been unable to make a decision. It just so happened that this time they were chatting with Lance, and to hear his opinion.

Lance certainly hoped that they could go. This way, not only could it activate the market, but it could also make that side more "federalized," which would be of great help in pushing the ordinary people to accept the Federation.

But now, he had something more important to attend to, and needed to leave for a while. The other merchants had naturally all asked him if he needed help or anything, but Lance had refused.

After wasting another two minutes here, Lance had finally left by car.

New Golden City was very congested. It was almost the Harvest Festival again, so the flow of people and the traffic was many times more than usual. After twenty minutes, Lance's car had finally entered the parking lot of the Rapa embassy.

When he had entered the bar, those people had already been lined up against the wall.

The members of the Lance Family and some of the staff of the bar were still cleaning up. Everywhere was covered in broken glass, and the ground was also wet, especially near the bar, which was exuding a strong aroma of alcohol.

Seeing Lance come in, people had all temporarily stopped their work. Some of the people who had not left had also become a little interested.

They were waiting for Lance's arrival, wanting to see how Lance was going to deal with these people.

For these onlookers, Lance had had them all 'invited' out. What was going to happen next was not something they could continue to watch.

Some were not very willing, but after seeing those people take out their weapons, they had become willing.

The main door of the bar was closed just like that. Just the action of closing the door had made the people who had been caught in the bar feel a heavy pressure.

The door to the bright world had been closed. The entire bar was in a state of being shrouded in shadow.

Lance dragged a chair, and sat in front of these people. He crossed his legs, and placed his hands on his legs. "Can you tell me, who sent you?"

"And who, had you attack the customers in my bar?"

These people had looked at each other, but none had spoken.

The Perez family, to be able to become one of the five major families of the Federation, was definitely not because they were so 'shiny'.

A person who betrays the family simply cannot live. This was a consensus within the Perez family.

They, like Lance, had a deep background, and also had many connections in the Congressional Senate, and the House of Representatives. This meant that they could easily extend their dark hands into a detention room or a prison.

It wasn't that no one had ever betrayed the Perez family, but that these who had, had, in the end, all become a thing of the past.

Fran really didn't like traitors. The previous family boss was also like this. The fate of a traitor could be said to be worse than death.

This foreseeable fate had made these who had been caught all refuse to answer Lance's question.

Lance smiled. "I like tough guys."

He uncrossed his legs, his hands on his knees, and he leaned forward slightly, using a little strength to support himself and to stand up.

He had walked to the side of the pile of garbage that had been stacked together, and was ready to be disposed of. He had picked up a stick, as thick as a child's arm, a table leg. Because the table was broken, and was crooked, it had also fallen off.

This table leg felt very comfortable in his hand, very handy. He walked in front of the first person, a young man of twenty-four or twenty-five, who was a little nervous.

"Are you their leader?" Lance asked.

He didn't want to guess one by one, so the best way was to just ask directly.

The young man had suddenly spat a mouthful of saliva on Lance's collar. Lance had looked down, and it was not a thick phlegm, but just a saliva, white, and composed of many air bubbles, which was constantly flowing down his collar.

Then he had raised his head to look at the young man, and had, with a blank face, said, "You have soiled my clothes, and you still haven't answered my question."

The young man had taken a deep breath, and had turned his head, not looking at Lance. It seemed that he was, in this way, to show his attitude.

Lance found it amusing. He did not directly make a move, but had, with a hint of curiosity, asked, "Is your surname Perez?"

The young man had glanced at him, and then had averted his gaze again.

Lance looked at the person next to him. "Is his surname Perez?"

The other young man, who had been asked by him, was stunned for a moment, but soon he had, subconsciously, shaken his head.

Lance's gaze had returned to the first guy who had spat at him. "Your surname is not Perez, so why are you doing something you shouldn't?"

Before the young man could answer, he had suddenly raised the table leg in his hand, and had fiercely swung it at his head.

In just this one blow, the young man, who had just been in a state of 'absolutely not bowing his head, absolutely not compromising,' had gone limp and had fallen to the ground. His limbs had stiffened, and he had begun to convulse.

His brain had been severely hit. His body had begun to produce a kind of a self-protection and instinctive measure, but this was not an accident. Its countermeasures were of no meaning.

Lance had, with his legs slightly apart, been continuously waving the table leg in his hand. The sound of the beating had also, from the "dong dong" sound of the wood and the bone colliding at the beginning, turned into a "pa pa" sound of hitting a wet towel.

Everyone was, with a terrified gaze, watching Lance, who had been, from time to time, splattered with blood, and also the young man, whose whole body would tremble with every blow. In an instant, a huge pressure had descended on them.

It was unknown how many times he had hit. Lance's coat was already splattered with a lot of blood. Only then had he, with a sigh of relief, stood up straight again.

He had put the table leg on the bar counter, and then had taken out his slightly yellowed, ivory cigarette case, and had drawn one out and had lit it.

He had, with his eyes slightly narrowed, and the smoke swirling in front of him, and no one had dared to look him in the eye.

He waved his hand. "Deal with it."

A young man from the Lance Family had come out. He had walked to the young man's side, had felt his carotid artery, and then had, by one of his legs, dragged him towards the back kitchen.

There was a way to dispose of the body there.

For a gang, especially for a mature gang, a body is actually the easiest thing to dispose of.

Lance looked at the second person. "Who is your leader? Is he here?"

Perhaps it was because his friend had just so simply died in front of him. The second young man's whole person was trembling.

It was very difficult for him to control himself from looking at one of them. And the person he was looking at, his face had also changed dramatically. He had even cursed, "Fuck..."

Lance patted the second, trembling, young man's cheek, and said with a smile, "Good boy."

He was clearly smiling, but in the young man's eyes, it was the smile of a demon.

He already couldn't hold it in, and had peed a little. It was so fucking scary!

The Perez family had been famous for a long time. It was rare for anyone to be so proactive in dealing with them, especially in New Golden City.

These people, in name, were said to be a gang, but in fact, they were much worse than the "countryside gangs" in their eyes!

When Lance had come in front of their leader, the latter was already so nervous that his head was full of sweat. He looked at Lance, afraid, but also wanting to force himself not to be.

Lance looked him up and down. "Is your surname Perez?"

The leader, after a few seconds of silence, and seeing that Lance was going to get that table leg, he had suddenly opened his mouth. "No, my surname is not Perez."

Lance, holding the table leg in his right hand, and a cigarette in his left, had walked over from the side of the bar. As he walked, he had asked, "Your surname is not Perez, and you are still working so hard. Tell me, are you despicable or not?"