Chapter 1081: No Overnight Delay

After an indefinite time, the Perez family combat captain finally let out a sigh of relief. He pulled up his pants, refastened his belt, and looked at the messy room with a sense of weariness.

"I'm heading back! Remember to shut the damn door when you leave!"

"If I find out you left the door open again, I swear I'll shove that goddamn doorknob up your ass!"

He swore harshly. His men frequently left the door unlocked, which exposed the place to the risk of theft.

The Federation was no place populated by saints. If anyone found the door unlocked, they would walk in and clean the place out.

His drunken subordinate replied, "Don't worry!"

"The thieves on the streets know whose territory this is. They wouldn't dare steal from us!"

"F***, is that your reason for not locking the door?"

He shook his head, swaying slightly as he walked out the door and got into his secondhand car.

After turning the ignition, he instinctively engaged the gear and drove toward his home.

He didn't live with these men, though they all had their own families.

Some would return to their original families, living with their parents. Some stayed in apartments with other single young people. Others might stay in various nightclubs until dawn, then find a random place to sleep.

The New Golden City wasn't the Perez family's main base or territory, but they had a considerable business here, such as nightclubs, strip clubs, and hidden alley bars.

In fact, bars in the New Golden City weren't as hard to find as people imagined. Even the former embassies were now taverns. As long as you had money and were dressed neatly, not looking like a gang member or a pauper, you could go in and spend money.

Everyone knew that Congress banned alcohol while the high-ranking gentlemen themselves bought and drank it. Society was severely segmented this way.

Of course, this was as it should be. The people who created the laws never intended for them to be constraints on themselves, but rather constraints on the people they ruled. They themselves were naturally beyond the law.

As some people said, high-level politicians who fell did so not because they broke the law, but because they were the losing side in a political battle.

There were no high-level officials convicted for breaking the law, only those who failed in political contests and were forced to yield.

Of course, none of this directly concerned the combat captain. All he wanted now was to get home and have a good sleep.

His house was occupied by his mother, a somewhat volatile woman, his wife, and his child. He was in his thirties, with a family, but he had no desire to change his current life and environment.

He had been hanging around on the streets since he was a teenager. Lucky enough to be noticed by the Perez family, he became a low-ranking gang member. After nearly twenty years of effort, he finally reached the position of combat captain.

He could be considered very lucky. Many who joined the gang with him were still at the bottom, but he had crossed a threshold that many people would never cross in their entire lives.

As for the future, he hadn't considered it. He thought his life was pretty good now.

As a Perez family combat captain, no one dared offend him, at least not openly.

His family also benefited from his status. For example, his mother often engaged in petty theft, taking extra produce when buying groceries on the street.

If anyone pursued her, she would claim her son was a Perez family combat captain and threaten to tell him she was being bullied while shopping.

Most people chose to let it go, settling the matter quietly. It simply wasn't worth attracting the attention of a gang over a few worthless items.

His wife was no saint either, having spent her youth loitering on the streets and sleeping with countless men.

But during their relationship, his wife unexpectedly became pregnant. They hadn't planned on keeping the child, but his mother insisted.

In his mother's words at the time, no one knew when her son might be killed in a street fight. If he left behind a child, at least the old woman would have no regrets, even if he died.

Though harsh, the combat captain took those words to heart. He married the girl, and they had their current son.

The thought of his son, already in middle school and extorting protection money at school, made him feel both amused and helpless. Perhaps this was what people meant when they said, "A child not only inherits his father's genes but also his career"?

Although it was a messy family, it was his emotional harbor!

Because he was drunk, the usual fifteen-minute drive took nearly thirty minutes. His car finally came to a stop after hitting two trash cans.

He swore under his breath, then went inside the house.

He collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air.

Drinking felt great, but once the intoxication wore off and the sluggish feeling set in, he became depressed.

Hearing the door open, his wife came out of the room, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. She looked at her husband slumped on the sofa and asked, "I counted our money. Two thousand dollars is missing. Where did it go?"

Hearing this, the combat captain immediately became irritable and violent. He cursed, "F***, do you only care about my money?"

The couple's arguments were routine. Initially, the combat captain's mother would try to mediate.

Now, she would simply cover her head with a pillow, turn over, and continue sleeping.

The argument in the living room did not interrupt the child, who was in his room fantasizing about gunfights. He mimed holding a handgun, imagining shooting enemies, and making continuous bang-bang sounds.

Everything proceeded as it did in any ordinary, dysfunctional family, with conflicts erupting constantly over trivial matters.

The lights in the two neighboring houses quickly flickered on, then off.

Living next to this family was truly a nightmare. The neighbors had spoken to them and even filed complaints, all to no avail.

They were now considering selling their houses and moving out. They were sick of this wealthy but uncultured couple and their family.

It was at this time that two cars slowly approached the house and quietly parked, but they did not turn off their engines.

Alan checked his weapon, ensured a bullet was in the chamber, and released the safety. Holding the gun, he nodded to the others.

The car doors opened slowly, making barely a sound. Seven people got out of the two cars.

They were all carrying small-caliber "agent pistols," which were much quieter than large-caliber handguns when fired.

Although they still made some noise, the sound would be almost inaudible outside the house if the shots were fired inside.

In the dark, the men quickly reached the house. Two guarded the back door, two stood in the yard to prevent anyone from jumping out of the first or second-floor windows, and the remaining three headed for the back door.

Following some suggestions from Lance, the locksmith had continuously refined his universal lock-picking tool, making it very sophisticated and small.

It looked like an ordinary key. Inserted into the keyhole, a quick flick of the small switch on the back would open almost any door.

The universal lock-picking set was not patented, primarily to prevent leaks. Even if it were patented, sales would be complicated, and it might force lock manufacturers to update their technology.

The entire lock-picking process took only four or five seconds before the back door of the house opened. The three men walked in, handguns drawn.

They wore specially made shoes. They had no metal soles, instead using a hard sole combined with soft deerskin, which allowed them to walk on the floor without making a sound.

From outside, they could hear the argument inside, which helped mask the sounds of their intrusion.

When Alan reached the living room, the couple had stopped arguing and devolved into hurling insults at each other.

Neither had received much education, having never even finished high school. The combat captain had spent his youth fighting on the streets, and his wife was similar, though she had the added experience of sleeping with various men. They were both seasoned in the ways of the street.

If not for the child...

A complex and sad notion.

As the argument intensified, the combat captain suddenly fell silent, staring fixedly toward the dining room. His wife, still unaware of the danger, continued her tirade.

"Are you saying you have nothing left to say with that broken mouth of yours?"

"I'm so sick of your damn face. You run around all day, only occasionally bringing back money, and then you quickly take it all back."

"Take a good look at this house! How long has it been since we got a new appliance?"

"Everyone else has a TV to watch. What about us?"

"Don't just stand there, dammit! Say something!"

When they argued, she always felt her husband talked too much, like a woman, even out-arguing her.

But when her husband fell silent, she felt he was too quiet and even wondered if he had lost interest in fighting with her.

Her gaze finally fixed on her husband's eyes. She saw him staring behind her, and she turned back hesitantly.

Pfft!

A soft sound, followed by the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor. Alan pointed his weapon at the man's head and motioned for the others to check the rest of the house.

Given that the man belonged to the Perez family, and the hatred between the Lance family and the Perez family, there was absolutely no reason to hold back.

The moment the door to the old woman's room opened, she screamed. "You pieces of shit! Can't you leave an old woman to rest?"

"I'm so sick of you two pieces of trash! Why don't you just get out?!"

She sat up violently, glaring at the doorway. She was old and suffered from nervous exhaustion, which the doctor attributed to her chaotic family environment. She constantly complained about her terrible family.

But now, she was healed. The person who opened the door was a miracle doctor who cured her nervous exhaustion in just one second.

Pfft-pfft. The old woman fell back onto the bed, sinking into a deep, permanent sleep.

The door to the other room was pushed open. The teenage bully, seeing the stranger with a gun enter, showed no fear.

He thought it might be one of his father's subordinates. He knew his father was a gang combat captain and had even played with his father's gun before.

His biggest dream now was to own his own weapon, which would make his extortion much simpler and smoother.

"Can I see your gun?"

He sat up, looking at the man who entered. His question confused the man by the door. Seeing no reaction, the young bully angrily growled, "I'll have my dad beat the crap out of you!"

The young man shook his head, raised his pistol, and fired two soft pfft-pfft sounds.

Youth: you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.

However, the man by the door clearly had a pure Lance family "pedigree." He walked to the bedside, raised his arm, and emptied the remaining bullets into the boy until the gun clicked empty.

The combat captain in the living room was terrified. After the other rooms were cleared, Alan nodded. "Mr. Lance wants to see you."

The combat captain looked utterly blank. He didn't even know who "Mr. Lance" was, but vaguely, the name and some hazy impression flashed through his mind, linking him to a person they once found incredible and terrifying!

He started trembling violently, shaking like a feverish patient—his bones, his teeth, his entire body.

"Who told you to attack Ethan?" Lance asked, turning away from the now-dead family and looking at the trembling man.

He rested his forearms on his thighs, leaning forward, sitting as if gently teasing a small animal.

The combat captain was shaking so badly he couldn't speak a complete sentence. Lance glanced at Alan, and Alan delivered a powerful punch to the man's face.

The blow "eased" the captain's trembling. His body wasn't shaking as much. Perhaps the pain ignited his will to survive, or maybe some other reason, but he could speak now.

"I... I had a friend. He said that last time, when that big guy fought, he bet on his opponent and lost a lot of money. So he asked me to help teach the big guy a lesson."

"I didn't realize... he was your man, Mr. Lance!"

Lance nodded slightly. "You know me now."

The combat captain cried out, kneeling properly again. "I know. I know who you are."

Lance smiled with satisfaction. "What's his name, and who is this person?"

The combat captain hesitated. "He used to be a friend. He was a police officer who arrested me once but later let me go. I owe him a favor. I don't know what he does now."

He then gave Lance the former police officer's name. However, finding someone based only on a name, especially when the police department wasn't on their side, was slightly difficult.

But it didn't matter. Lance was confident that with enough money, he could find the man.

"You're not lying?"

The combat captain shook his head repeatedly. "I'm not lying."

Hearing this, Lance stood up, adjusted his clothes, walked past him, and headed straight for the door.

The combat captain continuously adjusted his knees, trying to keep facing Lance. He didn't know why Lance was leaving, but he knew it wasn't a good sign.

"Mr. Lance! Mr. Lance?!"

He shuffled forward on his knees, trying to stop Lance, but Alan quickly blocked his path.

Pfft-pfft...

That was the last sound he heard while alive.