Chapter 1114: Deafness

"Hoo..."

"Hoo..."

Hiram straightened up, standing in the ruined room. He looked at the bodies strewn across the floor and let out a heavy sigh of relief.

He walked under a light bulb and checked his forearm. He had a gunshot wound there. The bullet had torn through his muscle, and the bleeding had been stopped.

The wound looked rather frightening.

Gunshot wounds show two extremes: where the bullet enters, the hole is often neat, with little visible damage.

But if it's a through-and-through wound, the exit wound is much larger, with significant torn and ruptured tissue.

Looking at the nasty wound, Hiram couldn't help but curse a few more times.

Undoubtedly, his bilateral dexterity was halved for the short term; he wouldn't be able to dual-wield his weapons until the wound fully healed.

"Should we head back first?" someone asked. "Your injury looks pretty severe."

An open wound with exposed tissue requires delicate surgery. It poses a challenge to the surgeon's skill and judgment: whether to preserve more tissue or cut it away entirely—a difficult choice.

Hiram didn't answer the question. "Let's check everything first. If there are no other issues, we'll leave together."

The bodies in the guard room had been thrown from the upper floor. Each corpse landed with a heavy thud on the ground.

The warehouse door was also opened from the inside.

"The ground here is reinforced concrete. We'll have to transport the bodies somewhere else if we want to bury them."

A subordinate approached Hiram, mentioning a minor inconvenience.

Factory grounds were usually reinforced for transporting materials and finished products and to manage water drainage.

Ground reinforcement had too many benefits; virtually all factories did it. Digging a hole for burial in reinforced ground was nearly impossible.

Especially without construction equipment.

Transporting the bodies was simpler.

Hiram looked around the dark factory floor and curled his lip. "Find a ditch or something. Throw them in and burn them, then cover the remains."

His subordinate began organizing the men for the task, while Hiram walked into the warehouse.

Inside the warehouse were neatly stacked containers of Maple Herb extract in two forms: liquid and solid. Both had similar effects, but different applications.

This was the first time Hiram had seen such a massive amount of Maple Herb extract. The farm they burned earlier only had the raw materials, which looked like ordinary plants.

But now, seeing the processed product neatly stacked in beautiful glass bottles, he felt a strange sense of realization.

He didn't know the monetary value of the goods here, but he knew they were worth a fortune.

"How much is all this worth?" he asked casually, picking up a small bottle. It was a comfortable size to hold. When he twisted the cap off, he noticed a small spoon attached to the inside.

A quick scoop and shake would dispense a single dose.

The Perez family supplied these products to high society, so they were exquisitely crafted, with gold accents, making them look very expensive.

"This is worth at least a million dollars in inventory," a captain who knew something about Maple Herb walked over and touched the containers.

Hiram's eyes lit up. "What should we do with these?"

The captain initially misunderstood, thinking Hiram meant loading them. "Just load them up. Don't break the glass bottles."

But he quickly realized his mistake. "I misunderstood!"

"Just flush them down the sewer system."

Hiram nodded. "Didn't I hear some people burn them?"

The captain's expression turned grim. "Unless you want everyone to pass out, I don't recommend you do that."

Burning this much Maple Herb extract would make residents near the industrial zone feel unusually euphoric the next day.

Hiram weighed the small bottle in his hand. "Then do it."

When the men heard that over a million dollars worth of inventory was being flushed down the drain, some looked visibly regretful.

Hiram noticed this. "Listen, this is Lance's decision. If you don't want trouble, clean this up thoroughly."

He walked aside and sat down. "I'll watch you from here."

The men quickly got to work. The warehouse had a sewer system. They smashed the glass bottles against the iron grating, letting the shattered glass, solid powder, and oily liquid flow down.

Someone brought a hose and continuously sprayed the drain opening.

Even if the Perez family knew this product was flushed down the sewer, they would be helpless.

The flowing water would carry the powder and oil far away. While some would remain, they would need to clean the entire factory's sewer system to recover the goods.

Even then, recovery wouldn't be guaranteed.

A family member walked over. "I found a hollow sound in one spot. There might be a basement here."

This surprised Hiram. He immediately stood up. "Take me to see."

They quickly arrived at the spot. Someone was already inspecting it. After prying up the floorboards, a five or six square meter steel plate was revealed.

The gray-blue steel plate lay flat on the floor. Hiram stomped on it. The muffled sound told him the plate was thicker than he imagined.

A doorframe structure surrounded the plate, and clear signs of use were visible.

The marks weren't ancient; they were recent. Some of the greasy marks on the edge, left by people bracing themselves to pull the door open, would shine faintly even in low light.

These oils would naturally decompose over time if not constantly reapplied.

He crawled down, placing his ear against the seam between the steel plate and the "door frame." No sound was audible, yet it wasn't entirely silent. There was a low hum.

He didn't know if it was a natural echo or if machinery was operating below.

He then sniffed. A strange odor wafted into his nose. There was definitely a big secret down there!

He smiled with curiosity, clapped his hands, and stood up. "Pry it open."

The young men immediately brought crowbars and began trying to open the steel door.

It wasn't easy. The thick steel plate was fitted tightly into the frame, with no leverage points.

It seemed the door could only be opened from below. The surrounding floor was made of reinforced concrete, not ordinary cement, making it even harder to break through.

After a few minutes of effort, they only managed to expose a small crack in the steel plate door.

Hiram stared at the finger-width crack, lost in thought for a moment.

The pain in his arm reminded him that he needed to go to the hospital.

He was certain there were people below. If the basement could only be opened from the inside, then someone had to be down there.

What was hidden inside?

More extract?

He didn't know, but he knew whatever was down there was extremely important to the Perez family.

For over a million dollars worth of inventory to be sitting exposed in the warehouse, yet they had a safer place—what was inside this highly secure underground warehouse?

Countless ideas collided in his mind, sparking bright flashes of understanding.

After about two minutes, he commanded, "Get the fuel from the car tanks."

"Only leave enough for us to drive back. Bring all the rest immediately!"

The young men immediately followed his orders. The Lance family's discipline was far superior to other gangs; they had undergone military-style training.

They quickly collected the gasoline using small tools they carried. Hiram had men use a chisel on the crack they had opened, trying to widen it further.

In the dead of night, the deserted factory area was filled with the sound of hammering. If anyone passed by, they would be terrified.

Meanwhile, the workers in the underground factory huddled together.

They were numb to the events unfolding above. The high-intensity, repetitive work had already taken a toll on their mental health.

They weren't necessarily afraid; they were just sitting there quietly, like perfect automatons.

They worked around the clock producing Maple Herb extract. Fine, visible particles floated in the air, and the temperature was muggy.

Some machinery still hummed, but no one dared to turn it off.

Here, people could die, but the machines could not stop.

The Perez family had rivals, including other members of the Federal Five Families. Some of them had tried to discover where the Perez family produced the Maple Herb extract, but found no clues.

The goods seemed to appear in the warehouse out of thin air. The Perez family also sent empty cars in and out to maintain confusion, so no one knew the factory was actually in the basement.

It was a custom-built, reinforced concrete basement with a hardwired phone line connecting to the outside. As long as the door wasn't breached instantly,

Fran could find a way to make the external attackers retreat empty-handed, whether they were officials or rival gang members.

No one had ever thought this situation would occur. The nearly naked workers in the factory numbly looked up at the constantly vibrating steel plate near the entrance stairs.

After about ten minutes, the hammering stopped. The factory manager sighed with relief. He prayed the attackers had given up.

If the phone hadn't been dead, he would have contacted the estate for backup.

Perhaps they realized they couldn't get in and gave up?

He was quite confident in the basement's security.

After a moment, someone said, "What's that smell?"

"Gasoline?"

No one reacted at first, but then they noticed gasoline flowing continuously from the cracks around the steel plate.

The manager's face contorted in horror. He immediately grabbed objects to try and plug the cracks, attempting to stop the fuel.

But too many cracks had been pried open and chipped away. The gasoline poured in relentlessly.

Hiram, above ground, could sense the resistance. The initial pour was fast, but now it had slowed down, indicating someone was plugging the holes.

He stomped on the steel plate. "Open it now, and I guarantee your safety."

No response. Hiram said no more, simply instructing his men to continue.

Some of the holes were now wide enough to fit a pinky finger. The moment a flame was introduced, the basement would instantly become an inferno.

Seven or eight minutes later, all the gasoline was poured out. Hiram lit a cigarette. He looked at the sealed steel door and tossed the still-burning match onto the cracks.

Flames instantly erupted around the seams.

A small blue snake of fire slithered into the basement. In the confined space, the flames quickly spread across the four walls leading down from the stairs.

What terrified them even more was that the entire air seemed to ignite!

Hiram watched the flames on the ground suddenly shoot upward. He shouted, "Get down!" and everyone dropped to the ground. In the next instant, a violent explosion ripped through the basement.

The energy released in the confined space was overwhelming. The entire basement became a massive bomb, and the force of the blast ripped the steel door off!

The deafening explosion traveled far and wide!

Dust and debris cascaded down. Hiram stared wide-eyed at the surroundings. The world was utterly silent.

Some of his subordinates were wounded, and some lay motionless, but for Hiram, neither the injured nor the unmoving made a sound in his world.

Sound seemed to have abandoned him. He continuously slapped his ears, but he couldn't hear a thing.

He shouted wildly, his expression twisted in frustration. After trying for a while with no effect, he ignored his deafness.

He walked to the opened entrance and looked inside. The basement was a complete wreck, filled with shattered glass, tools, and fragments of machinery.

A group of nearly naked people lay huddled in a corner. Blood oozed from the noses, mouths, and ears of many.

Flames still flickered in a few places and around the piles of raw materials.

Hiram grabbed a nearby combat captain, not caring if the man could hear him, and shouted, "Let's go!" He led the man away.

That night, Bob tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. He had eliminated Hull (the Police Chief)'s wife and child in a fit of rage. He regretted the impulsiveness now.

His decision was sound, but the execution was flawed. The two would have been far more useful alive.

This single act had completely severed their ties with the police department. Now, the Bearded Director would only target them more fiercely.

Facing the state's violent machine, Bob, as the temporary controller of one of the Five Families, felt powerless.

A larger gunfight?

It wasn't the days of a few decades ago. Gang members couldn't just walk the streets with guns. Society was governed by law now. Information spread quickly, and the Federal government wouldn't allow that.

The fact that they possessed immense power yet were constrained made him feel intensely frustrated!

What was most infuriating was the supposed "neutrality" of the Mayor and the Bearded Director.

Years of paying enormous amounts of money only bought them "fairness and justice." He felt the family's years of networking were a joke!

However, his rationality told him this was already the best outcome: at least they still had "fairness and justice."

If they couldn't even secure fairness, the situation would be catastrophic.

He had a new plan: tomorrow, he would create some chaos in the city to distract the police.

Then, he would use overwhelming manpower to eliminate the Lance family members occupying their businesses in the shortest time possible.

He couldn't sleep now, despite the late hour.

Just then, a knock came at the door. "Bob, are you awake?"

Bob immediately sat up. "No, what is it?"

The door opened. The man outside, a family cadre, looked grim. "Someone heard an explosion near the factory. We called the warehouse, but no one answered. The factory didn't answer either."

Bob's face went rigid. He threw on a jacket and rushed out.

If the warehouse and factory were compromised, it would be a massive loss!