Chapter 1078: Attack, Business, and Work

"Alright, that's it for today!" The coach clapped his hands, and the people sparring, training, and hitting the sandbags in the gym let out a collective sigh of relief.

The end of the day's training was a welcome sound, like music, to everyone here.

The gym had a decent reputation in the industry thanks to its star athlete, Ethan.

Previously, they might have needed financial aid from Lance to keep the gym operating normally.

But now, the fees paid by young people seeking to learn boxing were enough to cover the gym's operating expenses and still leave a considerable profit.

The coach was very strict. He was tough even on those who blindly followed the trend to learn.

Not everyone could handle the intensity. Some came a few times and never returned; their payment was essentially lost.

But some persisted, not just to avoid wasting money, but because they genuinely learned valuable skills here.

Generally, there were only two types of people who paid money to train here for extended periods:

One type wanted to improve their quality of life by becoming a competent boxer, earning status and income even as a blue-collar fighter in the ring.

The second type were simply wealthy enthusiasts who didn't need to worry about the future. As long as boxing didn't bore them, they focused intensely on training and integrating into the group.

People clapped their hands, encouraging each other, congratulating themselves on completing another day of training, and praising each other's improved performance.

This was a unique feature of the gym, making it seem a bit more... commercially focused than other boxing gyms.

In fact, it wasn't. When the gym first opened with few members, the coach was the only one clapping, praising Ethan's constant improvement.

Later, as more students joined, they began to applaud and praise each other, and this became a cherished tradition of the gym.

Over a dozen students didn't leave. Instead, they wiped away sweat and gathered near the main ring, where Ethan was currently training.

Scientific training.

Lance's previous conversation had prompted him to accept scientific training and fighting methods. His reply that he would "consider it" was, in fact, his subtle way of agreeing.

Lately, the coach had been training Ethan with more scientific methods and tactics. For example, right now—

There were two people in the ring, both wearing full protective gear, continuously attacking Ethan.

Ethan was forbidden from striking back. He could only constantly evade. When he couldn't dodge, he had to quickly distinguish between heavy and light punches and brace himself to take the hit.

The purpose of this training was to teach Ethan more effective evasion.

People used to think evasion was dishonorable for warriors; a true man never dodged danger or attack.

But with the emergence and validation of scientific training and fighting, evasion became a skill that, if not mastered, was at least essential in the ring.

People watching from ringside saw Ethan, covered in sweat and oil, continuously dodging under the attack of two sparring partners. Although he still got hit frequently, his overall fluidity was good.

Such training was incredibly monotonous, and the fact that Ethan persisted impressed many.

The coach loved him; he was diligent and hardworking, and being a "big star," his behavior motivated the other fighters in the gym to work harder too.

After twenty more minutes, Ethan finally finished his training for the day.

"How do you feel?" The coach proactively walked behind Ethan and began massaging his shoulders.

Ethan was breathing heavily. Being unable to counter, only dodging and absorbing blows—this training was hellish!

But the results were obvious.

When Ethan first started this training, he was essentially a punching bag. He was uncomfortable with the evasive style, and his sparring partners beat him up.

But as the training time increased, he gradually mastered evasion. Now, training with just one person was no longer effective, hence the two sparring partners.

Ethan nodded while gasping for breath. "It's good. I'm clearly much better than before. My stamina management has also improved. Even if I don't knock out the opponent in the first seven rounds, I don't have to worry too much about running out of energy."

These were all positive signs. The coach was satisfied with his progress. "I'll find you a better sparring partner in a few days—a real combat sparring partner."

Ethan didn't object. He knew exactly what he needed now: a real combat sparring partner, to fully absorb the knowledge, experience, and wisdom he had gained into his mind.

After the coach finalized the next day's training plan, he left. He knew that after a long day of training, he was the last person everyone wanted to see.

As soon as the coach left, the others gathered around Ethan and chatted for a while. The reason they were here was because of Ethan's presence.

Ethan was happy to talk with them; it was a form of relaxation for him.

After ten minutes, Ethan stood up. The others knew he was heading home.

In their eyes, Ethan was like an ascetic monk, maintaining strict self-discipline.

He never went out carousing with other students, nor did he go out alone. His life was a straight line between two points.

He was either at the gym or at home, rarely going anywhere else.

In his words, life was long, and he had decades ahead of him to enjoy everything.

So why wouldn't he pursue the life he wanted most while he was young and full of strength?

People found his asceticism hard to understand. Federal people pursued liberty, happiness, and reckless pleasure, not rigid adherence to a self-imposed schedule.

He went to the shower, changed into casual clothes, and left the gym with his backpack.

His residence was just one street over, about 300 meters away. Walking to and from the gym every day was a form of relaxation and enjoyment for Ethan.

He enjoyed the feeling of walking alone on the city streets, feeling detached from the city, allowing him to perceive the rhythm and changes of the city and the world.

It was a feeling of solitude, but he didn't dislike it; he rather enjoyed it.

He greeted and said goodbye to people, then embarked on his short, solitary journey.

His mind was constantly reviewing the summaries and insights from today's training. It was now early evening, past 6 PM. Once he returned home, he would grab something to eat, read a book, and then rest.

As he walked, two cars suddenly swerved from the opposite lane directly toward him. He dodged, and the two cars blocked the sidewalk.

Ethan frowned. He stared at the people inside the cars. The next second, the doors were pulled open, and a group of people poured out.

They all wore bandanas covering their faces, held bats and sticks, and stared at Ethan menacingly.

Ethan took a deep breath, turned, and ran...

...

"Cheers to a successful collaboration!" Lance shook hands with the man opposite him. He then took two glasses of wine from a tray held by an assistant, handing one to the man.

The man smiled back at Lance. "It's my honor to collaborate with the famous Lance family, Mr. Lance!"

They touched glasses, which made a crisp sound, and then drank in one go.

The wine in the glass was minimal, just a one-ounce shot. It was perfectly designed to be drunk in one sip.

This was merely a ritual. Federal people loved rituals; it made their lives feel modern and stylish.

Lance was negotiating a liquor supply partnership with a local gang. The cost price of liquor in the New Golden City was high, higher than in the Southern states for various reasons.

Someone approached Lance, seeking a stable liquor supply channel. Lance had no reason to refuse, and the price they offered was fair.

Lance conducted a background check over the past two days. This was indeed a gang involved in smuggling liquor, not particularly large, but long-established.

They didn't require huge amounts of liquor, but the essence of this cooperation wasn't the profit margin; it was the entry of Lance's liquor into the Gold State market.

After establishing a foothold here, he could expand to surrounding areas, ultimately capturing more of the liquor market.

The selling price here was higher than in the Southern region, so the profit margin on the liquor would be higher. Whether through partnership or direct operation, it was a good business move.

The fact that someone proactively sought him out for cooperation indicated that Golden Lion Liquor already had a stable customer base here.

The two set down their glasses. The gang leader who placed the order asked, "When can our liquor be delivered?"

"I'm already eager to recommend this new line of liquor to my clients. Its craftsmanship is clearly superior, the price is more reasonable, and I can already imagine how much people will love it!"

Lance maintained a reserved smile and corrected a minor mistake. "Our agreement is not for liquor, but for naturally fermented fruit juice."

"I will provide you with an instruction manual with the goods. You need to pay attention to it."

The man paused, then burst into laughter. "Are you always so cautious?"

"Alright, fruit juice. An interesting term."

"So, when will my fruit juice arrive?"

Lance glanced at the watch on his wrist, which had a calendar. It was the latest, most expensive watch. "Five days from now, our people will give you a specific location. You just bring your men to pick up the goods."

The gang leader who placed the order paused. "No face-to-face transaction?"

Lance looked him in the eye. "Do you prefer a face-to-face transaction?"

The gang leader nodded. "While I trust you and your gang, Mr. Lance, for the first transaction, I hope we can be... more formal. It is the first transaction, after all."

Lance considered it and did not refuse his invitation. "I will have someone notify you of the time and location..."

Just as he was speaking, a newly arrived captain knocked on the door.

Lance looked back, then excused himself. "Apologies, I need to see what's happened."

The gang leader seemed to have no desire to linger either. He tidied his things. "I should take my leave as well. I won't disturb you."

"See you later, Mr. Lance."

"See you later." Lance looked at the butler. "Please escort this mister out."

The young captain outside entered after the guest left. "Boss, Mr. Ethan was attacked."

Lance frowned. "How serious are the injuries?"

"He sustained some injuries, but he is at the police station now. Someone called the police, and he and the attackers were arrested."

Hearing this, Lance knew Ethan's injuries couldn't be too serious. He considered the situation, picked up the phone, and dialed Lawyer Ruben's number.

Lawyer Ruben's voice on the receiver sounded flat, as if he were ill.

"If you are unwell right now, I can find another lawyer."

Hearing Lance's voice, Lawyer Ruben's voice quickly became energized!

"No, don't worry, I'm fine, Mr. Lance! It's been a while since I received your call, and I've truly... missed you!" His excited voice was slightly off-key.

The years when Lance was operating in Likalai State were the most comfortable of Lawyer Ruben's life. Lance gave him work almost every week, and he was always generous.

Sometimes it was a few hundred dollars, sometimes thousands, or even tens of thousands. When he had to involve other judicial departments, the fee was even higher.

Those years were the most comfortable for Lawyer Ruben; he never worried about work or orders.

Other gangs would also seek his help with lawsuits or legal consultations.

Despite his poor reputation, he lived very well.

But since the Lance family organization began consolidating Likalai State, everything changed.

Their rules turned the gangs into an alternative form of capitalism. They focused frantically on making money rather than fighting turf wars, which cut Lawyer Ruben's business in half.

Especially in the last two years, he had started taking ordinary civil and criminal cases just to keep his law firm afloat.

Now, hearing Lance's voice again, he felt instantly transported to heaven!

"I am willing to serve you in any capacity, Mr. Lance!"