Chapter 1088: Little by Little

Where there is light, there must be shadow. This is an unchangeable fact, the truth and reality of the world.

Even in the New Golden City, large and small gangs still existed, though their method of operation differed slightly from gangs elsewhere.

In other places, gang operations might be more brutal. They might generate fear by committing violent crimes to gain status, reputation, or even a form of rule.

They used fear to gain people's "respect" and thereby controlled society.

But in the New Golden City, this was difficult to achieve. Too many social elites and high-ranking officials resided here. You never knew if the person you just walked past had a prominent surname or held a high position.

These individuals had many ways to erase a gang from the city, or even the country. Therefore, the criminal activities of New Golden City gangs, regardless of size, were relatively gentle.

Smuggling high-demand goods, including human trafficking—in a way, they actually served the influential figures in the city.

When the important people wanted liquor, the gangs would procure and sell it.

When the important people needed to vent their psychological dark side through certain means, the gangs would engage in the businesses those figures wanted them to.

And small and large gangs often helped these influential figures do the dirty and difficult work. This was their method of survival.

Light, shadow, justice, and evil—this constituted a complete ecosystem.

Late that night, past 1:00 AM, the gang leader who had just discussed business with Lance was sitting on a sofa, carving slices of cooked beef with a small knife and stuffing them into his mouth, washing it down with beer.

He had unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a patch of dark chest hair, on which remnants of food and beer foam had fallen, a fact he seemed completely indifferent to.

He believed his behavior was dashing and unrestrained, though his subordinates might not all agree.

"Are they back?" He cut another slice of beef and put it in his mouth. He enjoyed this method of consuming beef.

His subordinate shook his head. "Not yet..."

The leader frowned. His mood was not as calm as he pretended.

This matter... was ultimately about setting a trap for Lance and the Lance family. He certainly knew the consequences of doing so, but his mindset, like that of most people here, was the same.

Lance and the Lance family were, after all, outsiders. Even if they suffered a loss here, there was only so much they could do.

This was paying tuition—and also making them realize this wasn't Golden Port City or Likalai State. They weren't in charge here.

Furthermore, a powerful figure was backing his actions. Operating a gang in a city like the New Golden City, anyone would want to ingratiate themselves with someone influential high up.

With the support of such a figure, their business would expand rapidly.

Without support, their business would encounter many troubles.

This dynamic might be less obvious elsewhere, but it was very clear in the New Golden City.

He had no prior conflict with Lance or the Lance family. Before settling this transaction with Lance, he had never even met him face-to-face.

The blame lay with the irresistible promises made by the influential figure.

But now it was past 1:00 AM. Why hadn't they returned? Had something gone wrong?

He grew anxious. He knew that taking this job carried risks, and he had heard about the conflict between the Lance family and the Perez family.

He continued to harbor a faint hope, though he wouldn't admit it.

"Bring a bottle of whiskey," he demanded. Beer wasn't working well enough. The low alcohol content couldn't quickly soothe his agitation.

His subordinate quickly brought a bottle of whiskey. The cost price here was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight dollars, and it could sell for around forty dollars if sold individually.

If it weren't for the demands of the influential backer, he would genuinely want to cooperate with Lance, because the price Lance offered him was lower, and the quality was better.

Everything was expensive in the New Golden City.

The whiskey, mixed with beer, wasn't overly harsh going down. After drinking one glass, he felt the effect and immediately poured himself another.

Federal people, and indeed liquor enthusiasts worldwide, were keen on mixing different types of alcohol.

Whiskey and beer was just the most common combination.

Just as he was enjoying the relaxation brought by the "bomb," car engines roared into the courtyard. He let out a sigh of relief. The worry on his face vanished, replaced by a smile.

He gripped the sofa armrest and stood up, casually tucking the small cutting knife into the sheath at his waist.

He staggered into the courtyard. It was completely dark outside. While not pitch-black, it was difficult to make out faces beyond two or three meters.

"Why are you back so late?" He swayed slightly in the doorway.

In the courtyard, a car was parked. Some people were getting out of the car. He squinted hard. "Did the job go through?"

"Was their merchandise seized?"

A young man stepped forward from the darkness. "There was a small problem..."

The gang leader grew immediately anxious. This matter was extremely important to him and the future of the entire gang. He instinctively stumbled toward the young man.

"What happened?"

The young man walked toward him. The distance between them rapidly closed. Under the moonlight and the faint light spilling from the doorway, the leader could finally make out the young man's face. "I don't think I've seen you before?"

The young man's face, due to the changing angles and light, was only visible in vague outline, but it was enough for the leader to feel a sense of unfamiliarity.

"I'm... [the small leader]'s cousin. I recently joined the gang."

The gang leader had been drinking heavily and was drunk, so he instinctively ignored the anomaly.

Small gangs were like this. Some people would suddenly join, and others would suddenly leave. They didn't have the strong regulations of larger gangs.

For instance, even now, to join the Lance family, one required a formal introduction; not just anyone could join haphazardly.

If a new member had an accident, good or bad, their family would need to be located for compensation or accountability.

Many people who ventured to the Federation came alone. Their families might still be in the Empire or their place of origin. Someone needed to know how to find them.

If someone betrayed the family, the person who introduced them would be held jointly responsible.

Since they introduced the person, unless they clarified their lack of involvement, they were considered accomplices.

It was difficult to join a large gang and just as difficult to leave without a valid reason.

But small gangs had few formalities. Anyone who wanted to join could do so anytime.

Anyone who wanted to leave could also do so at any time with a simple excuse.

So, he wasn't surprised by the unfamiliar face.

The man's face was indistinct, but his eyes were bright. The leader stared into the young man's eyes for a moment, then asked, "What happened?"

The young man whispered, "I need to speak to you alone."

The gang leader didn't think much of it. He walked to the side, and the young man followed him.

Just as he turned and prepared to ask what the unexpected problem was, something cold pressed against his head.

Then came the sound of a gun firing behind him. The sound was strange, not the loud pop-pop or bang-bang, but a pfft-pfft sound, like someone farting continuously!

Following the sound of a heavy body collapsing, a few more cars entered the courtyard. Screams erupted from the house, along with shouts of pain.

The attack was too swift. Everything was over in less than two minutes.

The gang leader's drunkenness vanished, leaving only cold sweat covering his body.

"I have one question. Who told you to do this?"

"To frame us through a transaction."

The thick scent of blood in the air made the gang leader feel violently nauseous. His stomach churned, and he felt an urgent need to urinate.

Whether due to fear or some other reason, his sphincter was sending urgent signals.

He continuously blinked, his body completely dominated by fear!

"If I tell you, can I... survive?"

"Of course."

Upon hearing this, the gang leader visibly relaxed. Even as he warned himself that this might be a lie, he forced himself to believe it was true!

He then spoke a name—a name he considered to be that of an influential figure.

As he uttered the name, he felt the cold gun barrel, which had been warmed by his scalp, move away from his head. He instinctively began to turn around, and then everything plunged into primal darkness.

Twenty minutes later, a name recorded on a small card appeared before Lance.

Lance picked up the card, looking at the very ordinary name, "Mel Crown." He turned to the young combat captain who handled the clean-up. "Did he say what this person does?"

The young combat captain paused, then scratched his head awkwardly. "I... No. After he said and spelled out the name, I eliminated him."

"I apologize. I messed up."

Lance shook his head. "Not yet."

"You can take this as experience, a lesson. Next time a similar situation occurs, you and the others will know how to handle it properly."

"Go get some rest. Relax. You'll be busier in a few days."

After the young combat captain left, Lance called Tom again.

"Are you calling about Senator Cleveland's reaction to the earlier matter?" Tom's voice was relaxed. Lance had called him earlier to explain the situation.

The true, deeper motive behind the FBI's actions might be to target Senator Cleveland's interest group.

Outsiders might not know the specifics, only that Lance, as a gang leader operating the biggest casino and liquor market in Golden Port City, channeled profits to Senator Cleveland's interest group.

The exact amount was unknown to the public, but people knew he played that role.

Only the core members of the interest group knew the magnitude of Lance's contribution.

Regardless of the FBI's true motives, Lance needed to link "his own safety" to "the safety of the interest group." Only then could he secure more aid.

So, he used Tom to convey his concerns to the Senator. If he were "eliminated," the interest group would lose its annual input of over a hundred million dollars.

That money supported at least half of the interest group.

"It's not about that, but you can update me if you hear anything," Lance's voice was casual. He was certain the Senator would prioritize his safety and interests; it was inevitable.

Tom could tell Lance wasn't particularly nervous. He chuckled. "The Senator is very concerned about this and is personally investigating who is trying to undermine our position. He will give you an answer once he clarifies who is behind the threat."

"Are you satisfied?"

Lance laughed. "What other feelings could I have besides satisfaction?"

Then he got to the real reason for his call. "I need you to look into someone for me: Mel, Mel Crown. Do you know this person?"

Tom frowned, thinking for a moment. "That name sounds familiar. I think I've heard it somewhere. Hold on a minute..."

The sound of the receiver being set down and Tom's receding footsteps came through the line. Since he had his own office now, he was likely going to another office to ask around.

After about three or four minutes, the footsteps returned, and the sound of friction as the receiver was picked up. "I found out. Mel Crown, a prosecutor."

"Do you have some conflict with him?"