The Mafia Empire

On the way back to the police station, Pronto didn't say a word, and his face remained expressionless the tire time, maintaining a stern look from start to finish.

To be honest, he didn't like Julian. In fact, he disliked him very much. If giv a choice, he would currtly choose to support Wood instead of Julian. As part of the rule makers in Ternell City, he didn't like "disruptors" who easily crossed the line and broke the rules. Those big figures above him the council members, or the mayor wouldn't like Julian either.

They preferred players like Wood, who followed the rules. Wood played by the game these powerful figures created, carefully maintaining the order. No matter what he countered, Wood's first thought was not to overstep, which was precisely what the rule makers appreciated.

They had painstakingly crafted a vast and complex system of order, not for it to be brok, but to see everyone work together to maintain it, suring the smooth operation of the game.

But Pronto had to show a level of closess with Julian, and it was only at this momt that he realized the quiet, obedit young man at the dinner table, who barely spoke, was far from the silt person he appeared to be!

That t thousand dollars had become too hot to handle, impossible to shake off. Ev if it felt like a scorching piece of meat, he had no choice but to swallow it whole because Julian was someone who didn't follow the rules.

Feeling deeply troubled, Pronto returned to the police station and headed back to his office. He pulled out a bottle of high d liquor gifted to him by someone and poured himself a glass.

He needed to think. Think about how to pull this guy, who had one foot already outside the lines, back into control—at least, to stop him from acting so recklessly.

Pronto may not have noticed that a young officer hadn't followed them. Having just witnessed the brutal massacre and the swift cleanup as if nothing had happed, the other officers had also overlooked the fact that this young officer had trailed Wood's car and had yet to return.

This officer had be there the whole time, standing by the roadside, witnessing the tire "murder" unfold. He was angry, confused, and utterly at a loss.

Wh had the line betwe black and become so blurred in Ternell City? Wh he saw Pronto leading a group of officers to the sce, he had ev thought that the chief was going to arrest these ruthless, brutal gang members. He had be ready to step forward and testify against Julian for his actions earlier.

But wh he saw the hot tempered chief conversing with that young man like old frids, ev waving goodbye, he felt ashamed—he felt humiliated!

"I am an officer. Upholding justice is my duty..."

He had always told himself this, ev though his original aspiration wasn't to be a police officer.

In that momt, his worldview, values, and outlook on life were shattered. He felt the need to talk to his family to figure out whether it was he who was sick, or the world a him.

As he turned and walked away, Julian, with a dark expression, tered his store. The tire building had already be cleaned once, but the place still reeked of disinfectant, a harsh smell that masked the stch of blood and a faint rott odor.

The disinfectant had be purchased from a hospital at Julian's request—one dollar for less than three gallons of it, pungt ough to cover the smell of blood.

Everyone gathered a, and Julian's gaze lingered on each person for a momt. Except for a few girls, almost everyone was wounded. However, their spirits were high. None of them appeared dejected or in pain; instead, they seemed... exhilarated, meeting Julian's eyes with fervor.

"How many of us died?" Julian couldn't help but light another cigarette, needing to ease the pressure in his heart.

Dave smiled wryly, "Six are dead. One was shot, and the other five were stabbed to death." He paused, th added, "Nine are seriously injured. Of those, maybe only four or five will fully recover. The rest will likely be left with permant disabilities."

For the families of these m, they had raised their childr for over a decade, only for them to suddly leave this world. Ev if it was just a pet cat or dog that died, it would still be heartbreaking, let alone a living, breathing person—a relative with deep emotional ties.

Of course, the situation wasn't as unbearable as one might imagine. In most families of the Guars, there were oft multiple childr. Though losing one was certainly heartbreaking, it wasn't tirely unmanageable.

Julian paced back and forth a few steps and th said, "Everyone who attded today's gathering... fifty dollars each." Wh he mtioned fifty dollars, the young m's eyes practically lit up, and the girls glanced viously at them. Julian pointed at them, "You all get fifty as well!" At that, the girls grinned from ear to ear, laughing foolishly.

They were certainly sadded by the loss of their brothers, as well as those who were now facing permant disabilities. But they were more pleased with their rewards. To put it bluntly, they were risking their lives for fortune. Their lives were cheap, but ev a cheap life had its price.

Fifty dollars was half a year's wages for some people, and for these teagers eager to prove themselves, it was no small sum.

Julian wasn't finished. He continued, "Those who were injured get an additional fifty, and the company will cover all medical expses. For those left disabled, they get an extra hundred. Once they're out of the hospital, they can work in the company, starting at twty dollars a month, with annual raises."

By this point, many were deeply moved. In society, those who were injured or disabled while working for gangs were usually giv some easy job. The pay wasn't great—ough to keep them fed and clothed but not ough to save or plan for a future. After all, gangs operated illegal businesses and didn't have many positions to support non-working members.