Chapter 1090: Unease, Escape, and Inevitability

In that moment, everything Prosecutor Crown had learned during his years in school rushed back to him.

He cautiously searched all the rooms in the "activity room." Everything was chaotic, suggesting everyone had left in a hurry.

There was unfinished liquor on the table, uneaten food, and half a slab of cut beef on a low table. Ants were diligently carrying away beef scraps that had fallen to the floor, and mosquitoes swarmed the tables.

It looked as if they had suddenly left, without even performing the simplest cleanup.

After confirming the entire activity room was empty, he put away his weapon and carefully inspected the rooms again, finding no clues.

Without bodies or people, he couldn't know what had happened.

He left the activity room, preparing to depart. Just as he was about to close the door, his eyes were suddenly drawn to the motto painted on the frame above the "Workers' Activity Room" sign.

It wasn't the motto itself that caught his eye, but a dark red spot on the sign.

He pulled out a white handkerchief, covered a portion with his finger, and rubbed hard.

It wasn't paint. It was dry, but not completely dry, feeling sticky like asphalt.

The white handkerchief showed a layer of dried blood, then a dark red stain. It was blood.

He sniffed it. He couldn't tell anything specific; he wasn't a dog. He envied those people whose noses could distinguish human blood from animal blood, or even what kind of animal blood it was.

But undeniably, it was blood.

He searched the vicinity again and found traces of clean-up efforts and some small, uncleared bloodstains.

His face turned grim. Clearly, these people were gone.

He stood at the scene of the incident for a long time, then cursed, "F***!" He stamped his foot, paced back and forth near his car, then yanked open the door, got in, and drove away.

He felt extremely uneasy now. His heart was racing, and his blood pressure was likely spiking. His emotions were shifting from discomfort to unease, and finally, to fear.

Had the gang leader confessed and revealed his identity? Anyone who could eliminate and clean up a body so efficiently had to be an experienced person or organization.

Small gangs were crude in their methods. He had handled many such cases. They often wanted the police and other law enforcement agencies to find their crime scenes and deduce who committed the act, then publicize it.

This instilled fear, adding to their reputation when committing crimes or seizing territory.

When several ordinary gang members faced a Perez family member, even if everyone was armed and knew they could kill the Perez man by pulling the trigger, they still lacked the courage to shoot first, often hesitating even when facing death!

That was the power of reputation in the underworld. Their first thought was survival, not elimination of the enemy.

Small gangs wanting to enhance their reputation and influence had to continuously commit such acts. Honorable kills and executions were performed for this purpose.

They wanted people to know the consequences of crossing them, which was why they used such distinct methods to kill someone and "exhibit" the victim to others.

There was no such display here. This suggested the perpetrators were highly experienced and didn't need public executions to instill fear.

That left only one possibility: The Lance family.

Prosecutor Crown's hands were trembling slightly. He didn't know how Lance and the Lance family planned to retaliate. The more he understood about them, the more uneasy he felt.

Gangs were always prone to "fits of rage." Due to their specific nature, if they failed to retaliate furiously against provocation or humiliation, they would quickly be overwhelmed by challengers.

Now, he was entering this game as a new "challenger" to the Lance family. If Lance hadn't lost his mind, he would certainly retaliate against Crown!

Prosecutor Crown's car quickly returned to the prosecutor's office. He walked hastily toward his office.

The young administrative assistant saw him return so fast and immediately asked, "Prosecutor Crown, would you like a cup of coffee?"

The coffee beans at the prosecutor's office were excellent, often donated by capitalists. Though not top-tier, the beans—costing tens of dollars per pound—were very expensive.

The resulting coffee was naturally more fragrant and superior to coffee made from beans costing only a few cents.

Prosecutor Crown usually loved this coffee, drinking at least three or four cups daily, and would usually accept the offer.

But now, he had no mind for it.

He muttered a quick "Thank you, no need," and rushed into his office.

This left the young woman with a look of surprise. She looked at the closed office door, then at the other staff members, and with a look of resignation, returned to her work.

Back in his office, Prosecutor Crown locked the door and called the State Attorney General.

"The plan failed."

The Attorney General was initially confused. "What plan failed?"

"The plan to entrap the Lance family. I used a small-time gang, setting a trap to expose the Lance family's liquor smuggling operation."

"Such a major case couldn't be covered up. It would certainly lead to prosecution, giving us an excuse to conduct an in-depth investigation into the family's internal affairs."

The Attorney General remembered. This was a task assigned by the President's faction. He had sought out a trusted prosecutor.

He had just learned the plan failed, but didn't seem overly alarmed. "If it failed, it failed. It's no big deal!"

In his view, failure wasn't abnormal. The Lance family was highly cautious and cunning; otherwise, Lance wouldn't have reached his current status.

They must have sensed danger or were just highly vigilant and exposed the plan. All that meant was they hadn't secured leverage over them, which wasn't a tangible loss for the Attorney General or Prosecutor Crown.

But the Attorney General quickly realized that Prosecutor Crown's strained tone suggested this was not a simple failure.

His tone changed, sounding like, "Are you kidding me?" "Don't tell me they already know you were the orchestrator!"

The awkward silence on the receiver was a loud answer. A few seconds later, the Attorney General swore softly. "How did you figure that out?"

Prosecutor Crown briefly explained his deductions, then added, "I can't guarantee that the gang leader protected my name. I know the Lance family's methods; anyone who crosses them tends to disappear."

"I heard from colleagues that the Lance family's case files are several feet high, yet no victim's body, not even remains, has ever been found."

Federal law mandates that for a murder case to be formally opened, a body must be found.

If no body is found, the case is only filed as a "missing person" case.

While both are filed, the difference is vast.

The investigative mechanism for a homicide case is much stronger than for a missing person case. They allocate more police resources, and the investigation can span years. Once confirmed as a murder, someone will continuously follow the case.

Missing person cases are handled superficially. Police might only ask people around the disappearance site if they saw the missing person.

Then, they publish a small official missing person notice in the newspaper—a tiny spot, maybe the size of a thumbnail, where the face is barely recognizable.

As for printing flyers, that's the family's job, not theirs.

The police essentially stop caring about whether the person is found, and they certainly won't waste resources on it.

The Lance family's "craftsmanship" in handling these matters was superb, and their ruthlessness toward enemies was unnerving.

Those who crossed the Lance family, apart from figures like Heller, all simply vanished.

On official records, they were still listed as missing. They were likely long gone, perhaps even turned into dog food.

Pet food stores were great places to dispose of bodies. They could mask the smell, and even if blood got everywhere, it didn't matter.

They would grind the bodies into meat paste and process it into pet sausages, selling it to pet owners.

Even a master detective couldn't piece a human being back together from countless piles of dog waste.

Thus, these cases were essentially unsolvable in the Federation.

The Lance family's "skills" were top-notch, and their cruelty was disturbing.

Even just thinking about it, Prosecutor Crown felt he had been reckless.

He shouldn't have taken on this job. Although he hadn't been promoted in years, he shouldn't have been so impulsive.

He had forgotten the iron law: the greater the reward, the greater the risk.

Now, he had to pay the price for his rashness!

Sensing Mr. Crown's extreme nervousness through the receiver, the Attorney General thought for a moment. "I will transfer you to my office to work for me for now. We can discuss later whether you return to your old post or not."

"This way, you can avoid contact with the Lance family for a while. What do you say?"

Hearing this somewhat unexpected answer, Prosecutor Crown felt a sense of relief and a potential turning point. "When should I come over?"

"Immediately. Start packing now. I will send a formal letter to your office stating that a case requires your assistance. Remember to bring your family. We have several safe houses available here."

At this point, the initial joy of the transfer almost overcame Prosecutor Crown's fear. If he could work at the State Attorney General's office and manage to stay there, wasn't that the result he had always dreamed of?

He immediately agreed. "I'll handle it immediately. See you later."

"Mmm, see you later."

The Attorney General hung up, frowning. He suddenly realized a problem.

If even his own prosecutor felt uneasy, wouldn't others be even worse?

It seemed he needed to be more cautious when selecting staff in the future. He was deeply disappointed in Prosecutor Crown. He couldn't even handle a small matter without exposing himself.

This meant he, the Gold State Attorney General, was also exposed.

The Lance family and their associates might suspect his involvement through Prosecutor Crown.

Suspicion didn't require evidence. The courts required evidence, but at their level, the courts weren't the arbiter, meaning some actions didn't require proof.

That idiot!

He shook his head, but he didn't take Lance and the Lance family too seriously. Based on their respective roles, they were the cat, not the mouse!

Prosecutor Crown hurriedly retrieved some items from his office safe.

Cash and valuables—gifts he had received from others. He hadn't kept them at home but in the office safe.

It was safer there.

No petty thief would be foolish enough to steal from the prosecutor's office, especially a prosecutor's belongings, unless they wanted to die in an "accident" in prison!

It would be seen as a provocation against the entire prosecutor system, and who knew what kind of compromising material lay hidden in those safes.

Conversely, the homes of prosecutors were easier targets for thieves.

They were often out, leaving the house vulnerable to break-ins.

That's why he kept his valuables at the office.

He quickly stuffed a briefcase full. It was already bulging, and some items had to be left behind for another time.

He pushed open the door, carrying the heavy briefcase, and rushed out. The young administrative assistant saw him return and leave so abruptly. She cursed him as a "lunatic" under her breath before smiling again and serving another colleague.

Prosecutor Crown returned home. His wife, watching television, looked surprised. "Aren't you working today?"

Prosecutor Crown shook his head. "No. I have some business at the State Attorney General's office. You are coming with me."

His expression was serious, which immediately alerted his wife. Her face turned fearful. "Has something happened?"

Prosecutor Crown nodded. "A little. And my job might be changing soon. I feel safer if you come with me, and it's a chance to get used to the environment there."

His wife quickly gathered the child. The family, with luggage, got into his car. As the car left the city, Prosecutor Crown finally relaxed.

He turned on the radio. A famous road song was playing—The Scenery on the Road to Heaven!

"What exactly happened?"

Sensing her husband's eased tension, Mrs. Crown finally dared to ask. She held their child in her arms.

The child was still young. His face was full of the joy of going out to play; he didn't even notice the distress of his parents.

Prosecutor Crown hesitated. "I was investigating a case, and I might be targeted for retaliation. So, I'm taking you to Auris (the capital of Gold State). There are safe housing arrangements there, and we can stay for a while."

"After this case is resolved, I will likely stay there for work. Consider it an early adjustment to the environment."

His wife wasn't reassured by the explanation. She remained tense. "How long will this take?"

Prosecutor Crown glanced in the rearview mirror at his tense wife. "About six months... F***!"

His wife didn't even have time to react, wondering why her husband had suddenly cursed, when she felt the car abruptly accelerate.

She instinctively looked back and saw several cars also accelerating behind them.

She tightly hugged her child, her face pale with panic, her voice trembling!

"...Is it them?"

Prosecutor Crown had no time to speak. He slammed the accelerator, hoping the car would go faster.

But his four-thousand-dollar car was no match for the tens-of-thousands-of-dollars cars behind them.

Even though he had the pedal to the floor, the distance between them and the following cars was closing rapidly. He felt increasingly desperate!

He suddenly realized something. He shouldn't have left!

He shouldn't have left the city. He was a prosecutor. If he was shot on the street, it would outrage some people!

He represented not just himself, but the Federal law, the Federal concept of fairness and justice!

He slammed the steering wheel. Realizing this now was too late.

The cars behind caught up. One beautiful, pearl-white car pulled alongside him. The man in the passenger seat looked at him through the window, signaling him to pull over.

Sensing that the cars could intercept him at any moment, he glanced into the rearview mirror at his pale wife and the confused child. He finally began to slow down, gently pulling over to the side of the road.