Empire of Shadows

"Hey, Lance, it's Bill."

Bill wanted to create a relaxed atmosphere because what he was about to say wasn't easy to bring up, so his tone was cheerful, lacking the composure and presence of a gang boss.

Instead, it was more in line with his previous occupation, a pimp.

"Hey, Bill, I've heard of you, if you're the one I've heard about."

"Yes, that's me, from the Red Dog Gang."

Bill's tone wasn't aggressive; in fact, it might have seemed a bit soft to some.

Heller's death softened the attitudes of many towards Lance and the Lance family. They would no longer treat Lance and his people as just another neighborhood family, but as a gang of equal standing.

After all, Heller had personally proven that, paying the price with his life.

Lance opened his redwood cigarette case, took out a cigarette, and flicked the desktop lighter on the table.

It was a desktop lighter depicting a federal soldier in a half-kneeling position, ready to shoot, with the bodies of two natives lying beside him.

As Lance pressed the lighter's button, sparks flew from the barrel, followed by a flame.

A high-end lighter with a touch of dark humor. When Lance bought it, the shopkeeper warned him not to use it in the reservation unless his scalp was itchy.

He bought the desktop lighter not out of any morbid fascination or typical federal mentality, but simply to remind himself with it.

If one day he became complacent with everything he had, he would end up being the one lying down.

Only by constantly striving forward, by being the hunter, could he avoid the fate of becoming the prey!

"Bill, we're not very familiar, and I can't find much to chat about with you. To avoid any awkwardness, let's get straight to what you want to say."

Bill didn't show any dissatisfaction upon hearing this; on the contrary, he felt that Lance was actually a pretty good guy, very straightforward.

"Then I'll be blunt. Recently, our bars have been affected by you guys, and sales have been terrible, so I hope you can raise the price of your drinks or move your business a little further away from our bars."

Perhaps to avoid some harshness, he even brought up the current price of drinks, "Your drinks are too cheap. There's no need to do this."

"If you raise the price of your drinks, your revenue will be double, or even three or four times what it is now."

"We're all in it to make money. There's no need to go against money, right?"

Lance chuckled twice, "I can't do that."

Bill was a bit incredulous, "I'm not saying you should give up your business. I'm just suggesting you raise the price. It won't hurt you!"

"Even if you have a few fewer customers, you'll still earn more than you do now!"

Lance waited for him to finish before replying, "I know, but I still refuse."

Bill was a little confused, "Why?"

Lance didn't say it directly. He needed to give Bill a little enlightenment, "I heard you used to be a pimp, the most厉害pimp in the harbor district."

Faced with Lance's sudden flattery, Bill was wary but couldn't help but admit, "Haha, that's true. As long as you want a girl, I can find her for you."

"Then you must know that if the price of girls at other establishments is cheaper than yours, and the quality isn't that much different, you'll have a hard time."

At this point, Bill realized that Lance was using this analogy to tell him why he was unwilling to lower prices.

Because he had done similar things before. For the rich, a little more or a little less didn't matter to them.

But for the poor, they would always talk about cost-effectiveness.

When buying a house, they had to consider cost-effectiveness; when buying furniture, they had to consider cost-effectiveness; when marrying a wife, they had to consider cost-effectiveness; even when spending money to buy happiness, they had to consider cost-effectiveness!

They would rather walk four more kilometers just to save a little money that the rich couldn't even imagine—five cents, ten cents.

"You want to drive us out?" he then felt a bit of shame and anger, "You want to start a new war?"

Lance didn't admit to that, "This is business competition. The Imperial District is too crowded. I need to advise you instead, Bill."

"Now the price of alcohol is rising rapidly. This is a good opportunity to make money."

"How much money can a girl earn for you in a day?"

"They're not those expensive golden retrievers from the Bay Area. You can't sell them for the price of golden retrievers."

"But think about it, how much money can a bottle of alcohol earn for you!"

"Polly's alcohol has just been destroyed. The harbor district's alcohol market is facing a semi-vacuum state. Instead of focusing on me, you should pull back your forces and compete with Polly in the harbor district."

"He doesn't have alcohol, but you do. He can't possibly be your opponent."

"I can guarantee that before you leave the Imperial District, my alcohol prices won't rise; on the contrary, they'll fall. I'll make sure you don't earn a single cent."

"If you want to start a war, we can try it, but I advise you not to do that."

Although Bill was very angry, he was now trying to calm down.

He wasn't the kind of leader who rose to power through fighting and killing. If it were Big Polly, he would probably be slapping the table and shouting to kill Lance to show him some color.

Pimping also required some wisdom. He was thinking about the feasibility of what Lance said.

The flesh trade in the harbor district wasn't very good, or rather, in the entire Federation, the flesh trade for the poor wasn't very good.

This referred to very direct flesh trade, not the kind of work in strip clubs.

The five dollars spent in a strip club wasn't just for a blowjob; the dancers would also perform a hot dance for you for about thirty minutes, stimulating every cell in your body, and then give you a good time to relieve yourself.

Five dollars, forty minutes. This price was quite reasonable. Private space, better service and enjoyment, it was worth the money.

But for direct flesh trade, on the roadside, in alleys, for two dollars, you couldn't expect someone with a monthly income of only thirty-some dollars to spend a lot of money to solve a problem that could be solved by hand.

As for some who came out to take private jobs on their own, they were willing to do it for even one dollar. Some older ones would do it as long as they got paid.

Moreover, these girls themselves were there to earn money. The Red Dog Gang was only responsible for their safety, helping them solicit customers, and could only take a portion of the profits, about 40% to 60%, not all of it.

So far, there were almost no criminal organizations within the Federation that relied entirely on operating the bottom-level flesh trade to profit. It wasn't that they were stupid and couldn't think of it, but that it really wasn't very profitable.

Red High Heels didn't count because they weren't operating a pure flesh trade; they were actually in the human trafficking business, and they were doing business in the Bay Area.

"Think about it carefully. Once Polly gets more alcohol, your situation will be very bad."

Lance hung up the phone directly, which made Bill fall into deep thought and also made him feel very irritable.

Although Heller wasn't a good person, from Bill's perspective, he wasn't actually bad.

A neighbor who had lost the desire to continue expanding was definitely better than another mad dog, but now this newly emerged Lance wasn't the old Heller; he had his own ideas.

Unifying the Imperial District, this thought appeared in Bill's mind. He could guess Lance's purpose.

If a gang could unify the entire administrative district, then this gang would have reached the same level as the Five Families.

Even if he still lacked some foundation, he would become a rising star in the underground world of Gold Harbor City.

Bill felt a little envious because he was also old and, like Heller, had lost his enterprising spirit.

But he was a little unwilling to give the Imperial District's territory to Lance for nothing.

He still needed to discuss it with others, but what was certain was that the competition for alcohol in the Imperial District would become increasingly fierce…

Lance shook his head slightly after hanging up the phone. Perhaps this was the true portrayal of "those who gain a foothold through violence become more ruthless the younger they are, but weaker the older they get."

To put it bluntly, those who have nothing are always the most unscrupulous. When they obtain the life they want through these actions, they begin to fear, fear that one day they will suddenly die and no longer be able to enjoy their current good life!

Whether it was Heller or Bill, they were both "long-established" gang leaders who had left behind their glorious era in this city.

But look at them now; they were both getting old and no longer as energetic as they were when they were young.

On the contrary, the younger generation, such as the Brotherhood gang, were fierce and rarely compromised, and they were the stars on the stage of this new era.

Therefore, Lance was considering a question: Did the Five Families still have absolute control over this city as they did in the past?

But now wasn't the time for him to consider this. He had paid a large amount of money to the Riggy Group, and now he had no money in his hands, no clean money. He needed to get some money.

He called out to Hiram, who quickly jogged over and pushed open the door.

Recently, Hiram had lost some weight, which made his face look even longer. It was said that he had a girl he liked and was in love.

For those well-dressed gentlemen who frequented high society, gang members were just the lowest of the low.

But for some people at the bottom, gang members were the most prestigious!

No one dared to bully them casually; that was prestige!

"Boss?" he said, pushing the door open and poking his head in, looking puzzled.

Lance beckoned him in. "Do you have any work to do these days?"

Hiram shook his head. He didn't have much to do lately. Enio had come out of prison and was now eager to prove himself to make up for the guilt he felt for not being around.

The Lance family had gone through a trial of blood and fire, and he hadn't been able to participate because of his own stupidity. He was heartbroken and wanted to make amends.

So, he jumped at any job he could get. Alvin's idea was to keep him busy, otherwise, he wouldn't be able to vent his emotions, and there would be problems.

"Perfect. We're out of money. I plan to clear up the debts we got from Chobaf. Find two more people, and we'll set off at any time."

He turned to the safe. It only contained a portion of the debts. He picked one out.

Someone called "Tide Trading Company" had borrowed twenty-five thousand from him. According to the repayment date on it, they should have paid the money back before September of last year.

But so far, they hadn't shown any intention of paying.

The IOU had their phone number and name on it. Lance dialed the number directly.

Hiram, who had just gone out, had already returned, bringing two new recruits with him. He was very enthusiastic about bringing in new people. Lance held the phone in one hand and gestured with the other for them to sit down. The three quietly walked over to the sofa and sat down.

About a dozen seconds later, the phone was answered.

"Is Mr. Tide available to take a call?"

"I'm a friend of his… Okay, no problem."

After about a dozen seconds, the voice in the receiver rang out again, but only Lance could hear it. "I'm Tide, who is this?"

"Mr. Tide, in June of 1023 (the year before last), you borrowed a sum of money from Jinda Bank, twenty-five thousand."

"According to your loan agreement, you should have repaid the principal of twenty-five thousand and the interest of three thousand seven hundred and fifty before September of last year, but you didn't."

The voice on the other end suddenly became a little aggressive. "Who the hell are you?"

"Listen, either you send Chobaf after me, or you stay out of this, understand?"

"This isn't something a young man like you can handle. Don't you fucking call me again, or I'll have someone beat you up!"

Before Lance could say anything, the other party slammed the phone down, and the sound of disconnection came from the receiver.

Lance looked at the phone in his hand, then at the three men, and spread his hands slightly. "Looks like he needs a little help. Once I figure out the location of this trading company, we'll give him a surprise."

Lance dialed the telegraph office and asked the operator to check the location of Tide Trading Company.

The telegraph office supported this service. They hadn't even realized the value of "privacy" at this time. In public phone booths, you could find people's phone numbers through phone books full of GGs.

Of course, you could also call the telegraph office directly. Soon, the address of Tide Trading Company was sent to Lance. The trading company was in Prussia, not far from them.

The owner of Tide Trading Company was named Tide, and he ran a lumber company.

He had his own logging permit. This was his "showroom." His main job was to sell the wood to middle-class people who wanted to build their own houses.

This was a big business, and it could provide wood for federal houses, especially detached houses. Some communities even required residents to use wooden materials to build houses.

On the one hand, wooden-structured houses had been around in the Federation for two hundred years, and a complete set of operating standards had been developed.

The so-called "self-built house" was actually buying a super-large building block and assembling it according to the instructions, which could satisfy the middle class and some of the wealthy class's nostalgia for their ancestors' foothold in the Federation.

Of course, the poor certainly wouldn't have this feeling, because even their ancestors might not have lived in such exquisite wooden houses, and might have slept in stables or similar places.

The advantages of short construction time, low cost, and low operation difficulty made people like this approach very much.

On the other hand, wooden houses had become "one of the spiritual symbols of the Federal people" because it was a tradition.

Although it was unclear why something that had only been around for two hundred years could be called a "tradition," building wooden houses was the only way to be a Federal person, and it had begun to become a consensus in Federal society.

Just like they still had many strange habits, even dividing food into "Federal meals" and "immigrant meals," which made people a little confused.

But once it really became a social consensus, people actually didn't have much other choice but to obey and automatically become part of this invisible barrier.

Not letting people from the outside in, and not letting people from the inside out.

According to incomplete statistics, apart from apartments and other buildings that had to use brick and concrete, almost ninety-seven percent of detached houses were wooden structures.

This gave the logging industry an endless profit because wooden structures were easily damaged by moisture, insect infestation, and other reasons that required maintenance, so they never worried about not having business.

In the hall of Tide Trading Company, there were many small models made of various kinds of wood. Customers could see more directly what the houses assembled from these woods would look like when they came in.

They could place orders with the trading company based on these models, and then they would produce the corresponding materials and provide them to the customers.

Mr. Tide had just hung up the phone, cursing and instructing the front desk to hang up directly if that person called again.

He did borrow twenty-five thousand from Mr. Chobaf, but Arthur had taken fifteen thousand of it, leaving him with only ten thousand.

Mr. Chobaf actually knew about this, so he hadn't considered recovering the money from the beginning. He knew he couldn't get it back, so he simply packaged it all up and gave it to Lance.

Mr. Tide didn't know that this debt had now been packaged and sold. He still thought that Mr. Chobaf was urging him.

If it was the other party himself, he might have spoken nicely, but a young man wasn't qualified to make him speak nicely, even if Mr. Chobaf had recently sided with the mayor.

The mayor was ultimately an "outsider" to this city, but the Arthurms family, the five major families, these were the real owners of King's Port!

Just as he was considering whether to release termites in some communities after the spring, a cry of surprise came from the front desk in the hall.

He had just wanted to stand up and see what had happened when the office door was pushed open.

A young man who walked with a gust of wind came in from outside. He very familiarly took off his hat, put it on the corner of the table, and sat directly opposite Tide.

He crossed his legs, took out a cigarette, and Hiram immediately lit it for him.

He took a puff of the cigarette and blew it at Mr. Tide. "What were you saying on the phone just now?"

"You wanted to beat me up?"