The Mafia Empire

According to official statistics, each truck of this model, along with its driver and co-driver, could fit up to fifty people, stacking them like cargo. After the war, during a victory speech in the capital, the prime minister passionately proclaimed that the transport capacity and reliability of these trucks had be crucial in ding the war as planned, in victory.

This truck was the hero among trucks, a true hero's truck!

The truck slowly pulled up to the company's trance. A few young m immediately began loading the corpses onto the truck. As the bodies piled up, blood started to drip through the gaps in the truck bed, and the sounds of slaughter within the company began to subside. Corpses were carried out by the young m, thrown onto the truck as if they were nothing.

Wh the last injured thug, still barely alive, let out a faint moan, Dave walked over and plunged a dagger into his chest.

He, too, was tossed onto the truck.

The truck, loaded with bodies, along with a doz injured young m and several members of The Fellowship Association who would never stand again, headed out of the city.

What followed was a thorough cleanup. The girls and boys washed away the bloodstains on the road with water, and the blood splattered throughout the company's interior was wiped away. Places that bore signs of struggle were smashed into fine pieces with thirty-pound hammers.

If one ignored the pinkish water flowing into the sewers, no one would ever suspect that a battle had tak place here, one that claimed over thirty lives.

As the cleanup was underway, the protector of Ternell City, Director Pronto, finally arrived, wobbling slightly with the support of two strong officers. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the sweat off his face, and sighed in satisfaction, "This damn weather is too hot..." His curious eyes glanced toward the building behind Julian.

There were no gang members with drawn swords, no blood soaked, mangled bodies— of the sces he had expected.

Wasn't Wood supposed to be seeking revge?

Before Pronto could greet him, Julian disappeared into the alley, returning three minutes later in a differt outfit, his mask removed. Pronto squinted, feeling a pang of jealousy. He understood why Julian had done this and had to admire his caution, prudce, and cleverness.

Pronto th noticed a small detail: all the young people quickly dispersing from the street were wearing masks. If this wasn't Kevin's idea, th the young man smiling faintly in front of him was terrifyingly shrewd. Whatever had happed here, whatever witnesses might step forward to accuse Julian, they would have to face cross-examination from lawyers.

How could they be certain of someone's idtity wh they only saw two eyes under a hat and mask?

Pronto could already imagine a group of young m standing before the court, all wearing hats and masks, indistinguishable from one another. How could any witness positively idtify Julian in such a situation? Without clear idtification, no matter how many people claimed they saw Julian, their testimony wouldn't stand.

Especially in a society where money could change certain things, without witnesses, testimony, or evidce and with money there would be no need for a trial, only a direct acquittal.

This young man was very clever. And also very dangerous. At least for now, it seemed Wood had suffered a loss.

"Director Pronto, is there some major evt happing for you to bring so many officers with you?" Julian pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Pronto.

Normally, Pronto would have refused—not because of the quality of the cigarette, but due to the differce in social class. Sometimes, the gap is so vast that ev if you offer a delicious piece of meat to those in high positions, they'll reject it not because the meat isn't good, but because the person offering it isn't "worthy."

But this time, Pronto accepted it and put it in his mouth. Julian lit it for him and th lit his own.

Pronto thought for a momt before smiling and saying, "The weather's be cooling down, and the city's heating hasn't started yet. It's cold in the office, so I brought the officers out for a walk to warm up."

He was offering Julian a favor, knowing that whatever had happed today was no longer his concern. Anyone trying to pin this on him would need to consider if it was worth it.

Julian nodded in agreemt, criticizing the city's inaction, th shifted the topic. "How about this? I'll personally donate fifty radiators to the police station so that everyone can stay warm as the weather changes before the heating starts."

A single radiator cost fifte dollars, making it a total of sev hundred fifty dollars—not too much, but not too little. More importantly, he wasn't giving money. Money only garners atttion for a brief time, and once it's spt, it's forgott. But items are differt. Especially radiators—they could be used at home or in the office.

Every time someone used them, they'd remember who had giv them the radiators.

Ev if someone had a personal grudge against him, using the radiators that improved their living and working conditions would slowly change their perception.

Pronto immediately nodded in praise, warmly shaking Julian's hand and patting his arm—he didn't dare pat Julian's shoulder. "On behalf of all the officers in Ternell City, I thank you for your gerosity!" He glanced back, and the stunned officers snapped to atttion, clapping in unison.

Julian smiled and said, "It's only right. As a member of this city, this is what I should do. It's because of your protection that our city is so peaceful and beautiful!"

After the two exchanged some words that no one else could understand, Pronto immediately led the officers away. After walking a short distance, the fridly smile on his face gradually faded. He paused, stopped in his tracks, and slightly turned his body, glancing over his shoulder to watch Julian and two young m walk into the nearly destroyed storefront before shifting his gaze back.