Empire of Shadows

Snake didn't know how he survived. The moment the grenade exploded, he was pressed against the ground, but even so, he felt the pain all over his body in the moment before he lost consciousness.

He was covered in dust, with several burning pains on his back. Shrapnel had torn through the wooden bed, leaving bleeding wounds on his body.

He coughed a few times, holding his gun, and crawled towards the outside of the house.

He could barely stand up; he was too badly injured!

He felt his clothes were sticky. He knew it was the effect of being soaked in blood. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he knew he had to get help as soon as possible!

He crawled slowly towards the door on his hands and feet. Just as he was about to reach the doorway, the door suddenly opened.

Pairs of brand new, shiny leather shoes appeared in his line of sight. He slowly raised his head and saw several young faces.

"Mr. Snake?" the leader asked.

Snake didn't know what happened to the others, but he only wanted to survive now. "I'm not Snake. Snake lives in the next room."

"Shit, that's Snake, I swear!"

"He has a viper tattoo on his wrist. He's the only one in the whole gang who has it there!" A voice of a high-ranking gang member came from outside the door. Snake's vision went black, but fortunately, he held on.

He knew that arguing was pointless. He looked at the person in front, "What are you going to do with me?"

Lance showed a regretful expression, "I don't plan to let you leave alive, Mr. Snake."

"I came here just to see what kind of person was plotting to kill me, but…" He showed some regretful expression, "I didn't expect it to be a character like you."

"As the host, please allow me to say 'Welcome to Goldport City, Mr. Snake'."

"And…" he said, starting to turn around, "…goodbye, Mr. Snake."

The two young men standing behind him drew their guns and riddled Snake with bullets as he screamed, "Motherfucker!"

Morris stood in the parking lot and shouted towards this side, "The state troopers are coming soon."

Lance stood on the second floor and gave him a thumbs up, meaning everything was taken care of.

The group went downstairs, and the other high-ranking members of the Viper Gang followed them, at a loss, all the way to the parking lot.

Lance got into the car, looked at them, and said with a slightly regretful expression, "Sorry, there's no place for you here."

The high-ranking members of the Viper Gang didn't understand what this sentence meant. A burst of intense gunfire rang out again!

In an instant, all five people fell to the ground, their faces filled with horror at death, or anger at receiving such an end!

The group got into the cars, including those of the Viper Gang, and Lance and his men drove them away.

About seven or eight minutes after Lance and his men left, three state trooper patrol cars stopped on the shoulder of the road not far from the motel.

They first observed with binoculars for a while, and then listened carefully for a while, confirming that no one was shooting before approaching the motel without turning on their sirens.

When they saw the empty parking lot in front of the motel, the state troopers breathed a sigh of relief.

They turned on the sirens and notified the radio station that they had arrived at the scene of the crime.

Being a police officer these days has never been an easy task. In some literary works or rumors, people always think that criminals don't dare to shoot at law enforcement officers.

But this is actually a misunderstanding, or rather, it is a plot arrangement for the purpose of dissemination. In reality, there is nothing that criminal groups dare not do!

For example, during the Western Development, those criminal groups not only dared to loot commercial institutions, but also dared to loot the sheriff's office, post office, and banks!

Law enforcement officers?

Law enforcement officers are also people. In the eyes of criminals, law enforcement officers are no different from ordinary people.

They will also die if they are shot in a vital spot. They are not Superman; they cannot scare anyone!

Therefore, the Federation does not lack people who dare to attack law enforcement officers. On the interstates, there are often no-man's-lands. Highway patrol and state troopers are actually very cowardly.

They don't dare to randomly intercept vehicles that look like they are not to be trifled with. If they stop a formidable person, it will be time for them to be draped in the national flag!

So even if they receive a report that there is a firefight here, they will wait for the firefight to end, or even for one side to leave, before entering the scene.

Looking at the corpses all over the ground, the leading officer relied on the tobacco in his pipe to eliminate the nausea, "These sons of bitches are too inconsiderate…"

His partner couldn't help but joke, "How do you want them to be considerate?"

"Clean everything up for you and then hold their hands up and wait for you to come and handcuff them?"

The officer cursed a few words in a low voice, and then threw himself into his work.

They had to check the identities of these people and find some identification information on them to determine who the victims were.

But actually, doing this is useless. Thousands of people die on the Federation's interstates every year, with an average of a dozen highway homicides every day. Not to mention being able to solve them in the end, even being discovered may be less than eighty percent.

There are still many people sleeping under the soil in the wilderness for decades or hundreds of years, until the murderers who killed them tire of the police's incompetence and take the initiative to stand up, only then will they have a day to see the light again.

Otherwise, most of the skeletons will eventually be decomposed by nature and completely return to nature.

As for chasing those criminals?

They are not that stupid. Those criminals have already run away without a trace. Even if they let them chase, they will only chase in the opposite direction.

Time passed by bit by bit. To show "sincerity", Blinton brought thirty or forty people this time, with the remaining half guarding the nightclub to prevent Lance and his men from attacking it.

Before nine o'clock, he arrived early at the agreed-upon restaurant and drove out the normal customers in the restaurant.

All the tables and chairs were placed against the walls by his men. In the entire restaurant, there was only one table in the middle, and the dishes were being brought to the table one after another.

Smelling the pleasant aroma, he felt hungry, but he still had to wait, waiting for Lance to arrive.

He was in a good mood. After tonight, the Viper Gang would be the largest gang in the Empire District!

The time pointed to eight fifty-five. A subordinate suddenly walked in, "Lance and his men are here."

A line of cars stopped at the door. Ervin and Ethan got out of the car first. They checked the restaurant to make sure no one was hiding inside before returning to the outside. Lance got out of the car, walked into the restaurant, and sat opposite Blinton.

This was the first time they were sitting face to face. Lance lit a cigarette and looked at Blinton, while Blinton was also carefully sizing up Lance.

"You're not quite what I imagined, Lance," he said, seemingly carelessly, looking carefree, "But you're very punctual. I like punctual people."

Lance said "Thank you", which stunned Blinton for a moment, "Wasn't it you who answered the phone this afternoon?"

He could tell that Lance's voice was not the same as the voice on the phone this afternoon. He was a little confused.

Lance didn't deny it, "But the result is the same, isn't it?"

He looked around, "Now we're sitting here. Isn't that your purpose?"

Blinton thought carefully, and a smile reappeared on his face, "That's right, as long as the result is the same."

"By the way, I've also invited a special guest to come tonight. I hope you don't mind."

Lance looked at him with a smile that wasn't quite a smile, "Oh? What guest? Do I know him?"

He thought Blinton was talking about Snake. That dead ghost should be lying on the interstate police coroner's table now, and the coroner was experiencing the unique fun of the Goldport City coroner—finding bullets in a sticky, minced body.

But this time he guessed wrong, because soon he heard footsteps coming from behind him. He turned around and glanced back; it was Eric.

He looked a lot gloomier. The painkillers had taken a toll on him, and he couldn't live without them now.

A few days ago, Red Heels was besieged, and he was even caught inside. That son of a bitch Charlie didn't give him any face at all. He was searched wearing only a pair of underwear.

The only sense of security the mayor could provide him was that the police didn't poke his asshole with a stick!

But the days in detention were not comfortable. In the middle of the night, the effect of the painkillers wore off, and he was in pain all over, constantly screaming, and as a result, he was beaten by the inmates who were detained together.

If the other party hadn't realized that he was still screaming after beating him, realizing that it might not be fake, he might have died of pain inside!

This made him feel greatly humiliated, and at the same time, it made him realize that he might not be able to live without painkillers for the rest of his life.

He didn't like this. Although this little money was nothing in his eyes, he didn't like the feeling of being controlled by a drug.

He wanted to vent, to relax!

Blinton's big move definitely couldn't be hidden from him. When he heard that Blinton was planning to completely get rid of Lance tonight, he suddenly became interested.

He also wanted to see if, in the last moments of Lance's life, he would still… He didn't know how to describe the word "cynical", but he just had that feeling.

The meaning that Lance wanted to express in every sentence and the meaning that he expressed were completely different. Obviously, he occupied a more active position, but he always felt that Lance not only looked down on him but also ridiculed him!

He wanted to see, to see if he could continue to be so arrogant!

Eric regarded Lance's unwillingness to submit to him as arrogance. In his mind, someone of Lance's status shouldn't have the courage to refuse him.

As a result, Lance not only rejected him multiple times but also made him sulk.

So he came.

He swaggered over and sat next to Brinton, his eyes filled with contempt and mockery as he looked at Lance. "Don't mind me, I'm just here to sit for a while and have something to eat."

He said, gesturing to the two of them, "Why aren't you eating so much that you ordered?"

"Don't waste food; you should know that many people can't even fill their stomachs."

Brinton chimed in and started using his knife and fork, "Let's chat while we eat."

Lance didn't refuse. After running around all afternoon, he was also a bit hungry.

To wait for Snake to arrive, Brinton had to find a way to stall for time. "Lance, there's really no irreconcilable conflict between us."

"We're both in it for the money, for more things. In this regard, we have the same goal."

"We can have in-depth cooperation, and we also have the foundation for it."

As he said this, he glanced at Eric, implying that as long as Lance bowed to Eric, they would have a basis for cooperation.

Eric liked this about Brinton; he could see the situation clearly. However, Eric immediately sneered, "Forget it, Mr. Lance looks down on people like me. You guys should talk about something else."

Brinton felt it was a pity, "If we could cooperate, we would definitely be the strongest in Goldport City!"

He paused, "Lance, I actually like it here too. We've both climbed up from the bottom, and I know it's not easy for those at the bottom."

"How about this? I'll take the intersection of… Main Street and Main Street as the center point, dividing the imperial district into east and west sections."

"You operate on the west side, and we operate on the east side, each managing our own territory, coexisting peacefully and non-aggressively, how about it?"

Lance looked at Brinton's clownish expression. He wasn't in a hurry at all; instead, he started recommending some dishes, "The steak is made with good ingredients; you should try it."

Brinton was taken aback. He didn't expect Lance to actually take the initiative, but then he thought that Lance was already doomed, and then he laughed it off, "Alright, I'll try it."

Why bother arguing with someone who's about to be finished?

For a time, the atmosphere in the restaurant was surprisingly harmonious. They no longer talked about territory or partnerships, but started chatting about some Goldport City news, and even some international affairs.

Eric had eaten almost enough. His expression was slightly strange, and then he stood up somewhat unsteadily, "I'm going to the restroom; you guys continue chatting."

His body was starting to ache, and his finger joints were already starting to itch.

Before each bout of pain, the first thing that appeared was the itching, and then the unbearable, intense pain. And this itching also told him that he needed to continue using painkillers.

He went to the restroom, chose a stall, and without worrying about whether the toilet was dirty or not, sat down on it, and then heavily breathed a sigh of relief, with a smile on his face that even he didn't realize.

Outside, dinner continued. Lance ate and ate until he was full. His stomach couldn't hold that much. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth, "Not bad dinner, it's just a bit late, but the deliciousness makes up for everything. Brinton, you know how to pick restaurants."

"Then…"

He held onto the edge of the table with one hand, leaning back, looking like he wasn't aggressive at all, but he seemed taller in Brinton's eyes.

"Our dinner is over, so is our conversation coming to an end?"

Brinton was stunned, "Yes… I mean, we haven't discussed any results."

Lance looked at him, "Are you waiting for someone?"

Brinton suddenly became alert, "I don't quite understand what you mean, Lance."

"I just invited you to dinner. I want to peacefully resolve the differences between us, that's all."

Lance took out a cigarette and lit one. There were only the two of them in the restaurant; the others were all at the door to prevent anyone from suddenly making a move.

Erwin, who was standing outside the door chatting with Brinton's men, saw Lance light a cigarette. He suddenly put his arm around Brinton's subordinate, acting very affectionately, and led the other person towards the side.

The others, seeing this, seemed to have already begun to prepare to take action, because Lance lighting a cigarette was the signal!

Lance looked at him and said in the most ordinary, most nonchalant tone, "You're waiting for Snake."

An unbelievable expression appeared on Brinton's face, as if asking, "How the hell do you know?" Immediately afterward, he revealed an angry look, "You fucking bribed the people around me?"

A young Viper Gang member at the door heard Brinton's shout. The moment he turned his head, someone grabbed his neck.

He was about to struggle when he felt a knife stabbing into his chest. His heart immediately started beating erratically, and he didn't even have the strength to speak!

At this moment of approaching death, his hearing seemed to become exceptionally acute. He heard "thump thump" sounds coming from around him, as well as gasps of surprise from strangled throats, but it was too late for him to do anything.

He was helped by the people around him to walk into the alley, and then he was thrown on the ground, followed by a second person, pressing down on him…

The world became dim, and the last of the light allowed him to notice that there were still some people he recognized, already standing in a row against the wall with guns pointed at their heads.

This is a trap!

Before dying, he roared silently, but it was meaningless.

In the restaurant, Brinton didn't notice that his men at the door had all been taken away. His attention was focused on Lance.

So many years of experience and knowledge in the gang world also told him that things weren't quite right.

But he didn't dare to move rashly now.

Lance shook his head, "I didn't bribe the people around you. It's not difficult to know those things about you. There are always people who are afraid of death. As long as they're afraid of death, they'll say everything I want to know."

"I'm very curious, Brinton, are you afraid of death?"

Brinton's face was dark, "Whether I'm afraid of death or not is not important. What's important is, Lance, do you know who you're fighting against?"

"You think you're fighting against me, but in reality, you're fighting against Mr. Mayor. You're just a small character. You shouldn't have been so stupid as to get involved."

Lance glanced at the ash on the cigarette, "Can you pass me the ashtray?" Without waiting for Brinton to answer, he added, "Never mind, I'll get it myself."

He walked to the side table, picked up a glass ashtray, which felt very handy.

When he walked to the side of the table, looking down at Brinton, he suddenly asked the question from earlier again, "Are you afraid of death?"

"Brinton?"

Brinton's face was full of mockery. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, he saw Lance suddenly and quickly raise the ashtray, and then his cheek felt a breeze, and he heard the sound of air pressure in his ear!

The world had only a little time left for him. In that split second, he said the last sentence, or rather, a word, left in this world—

"Shit!"