Empire of Shadows

In a club in the city center, a guy in a white suit and floral shirt was lounging on a bright red sofa.

Clumps of chest hair protruded from his open collar, looking somewhat disgusting, like an incomplete savage.

In front of him, on a low coffee table, were some empty wine bottles, cigarettes, cigars, and even some dried maple tobacco.

Beside him sat several people, their faces flushed with an unhealthy redness left over from excitement.

He pursed his lips. "You guys better be careful these next few days. Boss said last night when he got back that we might be going to war with the Lance family."

He was a senior executive in the Keane family, but he hadn't originally belonged to the Keane family; he was the leader of a small gang.

At first, he had some conflicts with the Keane family, and the two sides fought a couple of times, of course, with him getting crushed each time.

Figal appreciated him and absorbed his small gang, making him one of the senior executives.

Joining the Keane family allowed his talents to be put to good use, and now the bars, flesh trade, and maple tobacco business he runs are among the best in the family.

Every month, he contributes at least 150,000 in profits to the family!

In other words, in addition to the profits he gets for himself, he has to give five thousand to Figal every day.

Even so, he still lives a carefree life. He's ruthless enough, generous enough, and not too stupid.

Having these three qualities makes it easy to get ahead in the underworld.

Around him were people who had been with him for a long time. Last night, Figal gathered the senior executives together and briefly talked about the recent situation and the future development of the situation.

Some senior executives felt that Figal was a little too impulsive and that there was no need to rush into war.

It wasn't that they thought they would lose, but that… it seemed like they were being taken advantage of.

The reason they didn't object was that the Imperial District was right next to them, and friction between the two sides had always existed, just not so obvious or intense.

They weren't unaware of the fact that many drunks from the city center went to the Imperial District to drink, and they had secretly tried to stop it, but to no avail.

They even called the Hazardous Materials Administration to report them, and had one of the Lance family's bars shut down.

But even so, they couldn't stop people from going to the Imperial District to buy alcoholic beverages because it was just too damn cheap.

There was dissatisfaction and friction between the two sides, and conflict could break out at any time, so now that they were talking about going to war, they wouldn't refuse.

Like Figal, they didn't think they would lose, and with the support of the Koda and Tita families, it couldn't be said that Lance, a new force, could face off against three major families head-on, right?

So they weren't nervous at all. In fact, after receiving the news last night, this floral-shirted senior executive was even in the mood to gather his brothers together for an all-night party!

The air was filled not only with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol, but also with the special aroma of maple tobacco and the strange smell of residual gene fragments.

The strange smell was everywhere on the sofa, in the corners, and on the tables.

"Go completely crazy when you can go crazy" was the motto of this floral-shirted man, and he certainly lived by it. He led the party last night!

At this moment, he lit a cigarette, and the "ding" sound of the pure silver lighter startled some of the captains around him awake.

Some people rubbed their faces, some people picked up cups and splashed water on their faces, and others changed their positions and continued to close their eyes.

The floral-shirted man stood up with a cigarette in his mouth and woke them up one by one, making them energetic before continuing, "I'm not fucking kidding with you."

"These next few days, be honest with me. You don't know when the Lance family will come to kill us."

"Guard your own territory well. If I suffer losses because of your mess, I guarantee I'll be as bad to you then as I am good to you now!"

The captains nodded one after another, promising that they would listen, but no one knew how many people were telling the truth and how many were lying indifferently.

Looking at his subordinates like this, the floral-shirted man knew that there was no good way to deal with it. The name of the Five Great Families was too loud.

So loud that since they joined the Keane family, they seemed to be fearless, because no one dared to offend them!

"Got it, Boss, we'll be careful."

His closest subordinate took the initiative to say something, but at this moment, in his eyes, the floral-shirted man was still constantly changing. The maple tobacco plus alcohol was too strong!

Damn it, I can't add so much next time!

The floral-shirted man cursed a couple of times. He could see that these people were not in the right state of mind. In fact, he was usually like this, and he would gradually wake up until the evening.

He shook his head, kicked the people around him a few times, and turned to walk out of the club.

He indulged these subordinates too much. Sooner or later, they would suffer because they weren't vigilant enough.

Coming out of the room, the club staff bowed and greeted him all the way. After all, he was a senior executive of the Five Great Families, and it was considered an honor for them to spend money at the club.

Moreover, the floral-shirted man would not say that he was short of money or not give money. His ability to make money was much stronger than his ability to spend it.

How could the club offend such a person with a background and willing to spend money?

The young girls greeted him sweetly with "Good morning, Boss" as soon as they met him, and the floral-shirted man felt great.

"The car is already parked at the door…"

Before he even reached the door, the manager took the initiative to greet him, holding the keys to his latest convertible.

The floral-shirted man nodded. He took the keys and twisted his neck. "How much?"

The manager turned around and brought the bill. "It's seven hundred and thirteen in total. Seven hundred will do!"

"Are you looking down on me!"

The floral-shirted man squinted at him, and the manager quickly said, "I wouldn't dare."

Then he took out two stacks of money tied with rubber bands, each stack with twenty-five bills, took out ten bills, and slapped the remaining money into the manager's hand. "Share the extra."

The manager's face was also full of joy. He turned around, glared, and the young girls shouted sweetly, "Thank you for the tip, sir."

This made the floral-shirted man burst out laughing!

The most proud and carefree moment in life is nothing more than this!

Money, power, it's really a good thing!

He swaggered out of the club's door, his attention all on the newly bought dark blue sports car by the side of the road.

This made him ignore the car parked diagonally by the side of the road about thirty or forty meters away from him, which started up.

As he opened the car door and sat down, just as he inserted the key, the car stopped beside him with a screech.

He subconsciously looked towards the car and saw only a few dark muzzles.

The bullets poured down like the heavy rain yesterday, and the crackling gunfire silenced the whole street for three seconds, followed by screams!

The whole process probably took only seven or eight seconds, and then the car sped away.

After a while, the manager ran out of the club in a panic. The floral-shirted man was now slumped in the driver's seat of the convertible, his body stained with blood.

The blood in his mouth kept gurgling out like a small fountain with blood foam, and occasionally he would twitch, like nausea, and then spit out a mouthful of blood.

His consciousness had already dissipated. Even though he raised his arm to protect his head in the shortest amount of time, there was still no chance of rescue.

Half a minute later, he stopped moving.

On another street, a senior executive of the Keane family was resting in a room in a high-end hotel.

He had been playing cards late into the night last night, and like the floral-shirted man, he was not too worried about going to war with the Lance family.

Arrogant people are often like this, like nobles who look at the rioting peasants with their nostrils, even if their heads are already resting on the guillotine, they still say "Vile people like maggots in the mud!"

Arrogance is a poison, and once you are poisoned, it is difficult to have a day to detoxify.

The ding-dong doorbell woke him up from his sleep. He glanced at the unfamiliar girl on the bed, left the room with his upper body naked, and the doorbell was still ringing!

He had won a lot of money last night, and several times it was because of the girl's help. She seemed to pass on good luck to him, allowing him to win money in almost impossible rounds.

As a gambling dog, he has an unusual superstition about luck.

In fact, many gambling dogs are like this. They are superstitious that a small thing can bring them good luck, superstitious that a certain action or a certain song can change the outcome of the card dealing, or superstitious about the order of seats or the order of card dealing.

In short, anything that can make them think "I can win" will be favored by them.

And this time, what he favored was the girl on the bed.

So he brought her here, went crazy all night, promised to give her a sum of money, and then drank some wine and went to sleep.

"Damn it, didn't I say I don't need morning room service?"

He was now throwing a tantrum. After reaching middle age, his body was no longer as good as when he was young.

Far from it, but he was reluctant to admit it.

When he was young, he could stay up all night without sleeping, and after sleeping for two or three hours the next day, he would become refreshed again.

But now, every time he stays up late, it's like someone beat him up all night.

It's okay if he doesn't stay up late, but if he does, he has to sleep until noon in the morning, otherwise he will feel uncomfortable all over.

He was in that state right now: accelerated heartbeat, headache, and even his neck felt uncomfortable. He angrily yanked open the door, "If you fucking press that bell one more time, I guarantee…"

His words were cut short as his gaze met the eyes of the three people outside the door.

Standing outside were three gentlemen in formal attire, each wearing a soft-brimmed hat. Notably, they all sported a prominent red armband on their left arms.

They wore kidskin gloves—cowhide gloves were too stiff for actions requiring precise control, like firing a gun.

Kidskin leather could be tanned to be incredibly soft and thin, especially custom-made ones that conformed to every finger, ensuring maximum comfort.

In the hands of those wearing gloves, each held a handgun, emanating the scent of death.

The atmosphere solidified. He instinctively wanted to run, but the people outside gave him no chance.

In the last minute of his life, he didn't know what to say. His mind cleared for a moment, and he thought of Figal's phone call.

But he no longer knew what to say, ultimately squeezing out a curse from his throat.

"Son of a bitch…"

Unfortunately, he didn't finish cursing, as he was interrupted by gunfire.

The gun, using small-caliber bullets, wasn't loud. The 'piupiupiu' sound forced him to retreat repeatedly.

He tried to steady himself by grabbing the table near the door, but after a bullet hit his head, he completely lost control of his body.

The three men entered the room, emptied all the bullets into his head, and then quickly left.

Even small-caliber bullets still made some noise.

In the room, the girl stretched her graceful body, waking from her dream. She put on a robe, tossed her long hair, and walked into the living room, immediately unleashing a piercing shriek with her exceptionally dramatic voice!

Around eight o'clock, Figal was awakened by his brother.

"For the sake of our brotherhood, God, let me sleep a little longer!" he said, opening his eyes to look at his brother, his face haggard.

He had also stayed up late. His mind had been filled with worries these past two nights, making it impossible to sleep well.

He had only drifted off to sleep around four in the morning, and now it was just past eight. He couldn't get up at all!

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice weak, and his eyes were particularly sore.

"…(Flowery Shirt) and…(Gambling Dog) are dead. … and… can't be contacted so far, and another was shot but survived and is now in the emergency room."

Figal was instantly stunned. He sat up abruptly, turned on the bedside lamp, and said, "What the fuck did you say?"

His brother repeated himself, his expression serious and solemn, "The Lance family has already started making moves."

"Fuck!"

"How dare they move so quickly?"

"And how did he find these people?"

His brother said, "I heard that Lance has a young man named Morris who has been helping Lance develop and investigate other gangs."

"You know what our senior executives are like. They never hide their tracks, making them very likely to be targeted."

If they had to hide after infiltrating the Five Families, then the Five Families would be too useless!

Whether they were internal members of the Keane family or gang members who joined through mergers after defeating the Bear Gang, they had become very arrogant!

In addition, many senior executives and captains in the family died in the war with the Bear Gang, so the family's power is now relatively concentrated in the hands of Figal and a few senior executives.

With power, influence, and complacency, how could they resist being rampant?

They just didn't know that even before Lance was qualified to challenge the Five Families, he had already had people watching the Five Families' situation.

And Alberto provided some assistance in this.

Although the Five Families are now united, they are also wary of and control each other.

Finding these people didn't take much effort.

Figal felt a throbbing in his temples. He couldn't stay in bed any longer. He threw off the covers, stood up, paced back and forth a few steps, then changed his clothes and went straight to the study.

"Immediately notify everyone, starting now, be fucking careful twenty-four hours a day!"

"We are one of the Five Families, don't fucking act like those third-rate gangs!"

"If I find out anyone is still slacking off, I'll kill him myself!"

As he spoke, he picked up the phone and started calling the important members and senior executives of the family one by one.

Of course, some senior executives didn't take what he said seriously, but some were very cautious.

They obediently listened and hid in their own territories, so nothing happened to them this morning.

He asked these people to come over; he wanted to hold a meeting.

He knew a truth: in gang warfare, the more time someone spends in a defensive state, the greater the chance they will lose in the end!

They must attack!

Even if it meant an eye for an eye, they had to attack desperately!

Around nine o'clock, a dozen senior executives gathered here, with a few more on their way.

Figal had changed his clothes. His eyes were somewhat fierce, "I fucking said yesterday, be careful, be careful, be careful!"

"As a result, these bastards treated my words like farts. Good, now they are not only dead, but they have also put us in such a passive position!"

"Fuck!"

Seeing Figal's anger, even with a hint of…warning, the expressions on each senior executive's face were not very good.

"Just for a small matter, Lance's people are moving so quickly?" one senior executive couldn't help but ask.

"Is there something we don't know about?"

The others looked at each other, also feeling that the situation was not quite right.

If the firefight the night before was because of snatching customers—they were also investigating this matter and had found the customers who went from the city center to the Empire District to drink and obtained their descriptions of the incident.

Then what was the reason for the firefight now?

And why such a big show right from the start?

Those who suspected there might be other things going on felt that Figal was hiding something from them.

But Figal didn't think he was hiding anything from them, "I guarantee, I haven't hidden anything."

"He's like a mad dog now, biting the Coda family and then biting us. He's too arrogant!"

Figal tapped his hand on the table, "His youth and current success have made him not take us seriously. Gentlemen, we have to teach him how to behave!"

The executives all nodded in agreement, and one of them asked, "Then what do we do now?"

Figal took out a map. Yes, he also had a map with some scattered locations of Lance's bars on it.

These locations were bought by Bandy for a high price from the mouths of drunks.

As long as he offered enough money, there would always be people with no direct interest in Lance willing to sell the locations of these bars for money.

And this would continue to happen, impossible to prevent!

His hand slammed down on the map, "He can come and hit us, and we can go and hit them!"