Empire of Shadows

Three days is not a long time; in the grand scheme of life, it's merely a blink of an eye.

Three days was also enough time for Mr. Cerre to understand some things. When they stepped out of the van and into the sunlight once more, they felt like their lives had been reborn.

The van at that moment was like a womb; he was a child emerging from it, barely able to walk.

For three days, he hadn't stretched his body. Like a fetus, he didn't have to curl up in a dark corner, but neither did he have room to stretch.

He hadn't stood up, always keeping his legs bent, so much so that after getting out of the car, he had to hold onto the door for a while before he could stagger forward.

Soon after, in a luxurious office, he saw Lance.

"Please, sit down," Lance said, acting like a gentleman.

His well-tailored suit and red pocket square gave him a unique air. One couldn't see much of the gangster boss in him; he looked more like a successful businessman.

Mr. Cerre held onto the back of the chair as he walked to it, then sat down.

"Mr. Lance," he said, his voice soft. One must recognize reality, and three days was enough time to do so.

He didn't dare to look up at Lance, and Lance didn't force him to.

"Do you smoke?" Lance asked.

Mr. Cerre nodded. Although he had lost his freedom during these three days and had no place to move around, the people in the van hadn't denied him cigarettes.

When others smoked, they would offer him one. At first, he refused, but later he stopped refusing.

When people are distressed, they always need something.

"Thank you!" he said sincerely, then took the cigarette and lit it with a table lighter.

The mellow smoke entered his lungs, the nicotine was absorbed and sent into his bloodstream, easily crossing the blood-brain barrier and directly affecting the brain.

The secretion of dopamine and some other hormones calmed Mr. Cerre down a little.

"Can I ask a question?" he asked Lance, holding the cigarette in his hand, slightly hunched over.

Lance didn't refuse. "Of course."

He took another puff, his eyes showing some anticipation. "Jordan, he… how is he?"

He and Jordan were good friends, but at this moment he asked about Jordan obviously not because they were good friends.

He wanted to know Lance's attitude towards them through this matter.

Lance showed a regretful expression and shook his head. "He's dead. If you want to see him, you'll have to go to the bottom of the lake."

Mr. Cerre was silent. He squeezed out a smile, just a hint, that looked very bitter.

"No, no need, thank you."

He took a deep breath and looked at Lance. "You're looking for me because…"

Lance raised his eyebrows. The emotional activity on his face was a little too much, because this was just a minor character, and he didn't need to hide his emotions or control his expression.

"You let your friend come and make trouble for us, and now he's fallen."

Lance immediately defined the whole thing. "You know, for the gang, we always advocate blood for blood, tooth for tooth, eye for eye."

"You planned to attack us, and we resolved the crisis, so now it's our turn."

"Mr. Cerre, you will die, and your family will die."

Mr. Cerre's breathing stopped abruptly. He held his breath, subconsciously, for more than half a minute before he couldn't help but start breathing again.

He didn't want to die, if he could, but now he wasn't qualified to make decisions for Lance.

Lance waited for him to gather his emotions before saying, "But I also have a proposal…"

"What proposal?" he replied quickly this time, which made Lance smile.

"It's very simple: transfer your fourteen movie theaters to me."

"I will buy all of them for one dollar each, and you, in addition to getting fourteen dollars, will also get a chance to live."

The fourteen movie theaters were the entirety of him, his father, and his grandfather—three generations—and the foundation upon which the family rose.

These were priceless treasures!

Their locations were all good, and the prices of those locations were constantly increasing, and there were no other competing movie theaters nearby.

They were running a regional monopoly, the kind that really made money.

Every year, these movie theaters brought him hundreds of thousands in revenue, but now they were leaving him.

Mr. Cerre didn't want to agree; in his heart, he was very resistant, but he had to agree, because he didn't want to die even more.

Seeing him silent, Lance opened the prepared contract, then took out a pen, unscrewed the cap, and placed it next to the contract, pushing it over.

"You can take a look first. If you can accept it, just sign your name."

"If you can't accept it, you don't have to sign it."

Mr. Cerre smoked, looked at the contract, and spaced out for a while, then began to read.

It was written very simply: the land and buildings of the movie theaters were voluntarily sold to Wanli Cinemas for one dollar each, and after the handover, all rights to these movie theaters were relinquished.

Mr. Cerre picked up the pen. He hesitated a little, then looked up at Lance. "You're a man of your word, right?"

Lance nodded slightly. "You can inquire about it."

Mr. Cerre was about to sign. He seemed to have many options, but in reality, if he didn't want to die, there was only one choice, and there was no choice at all.

Lance reminded him, "I will let you leave, but if there is a next time, and I can't find anything I'm interested in on you…"

"Then we won't meet again, and they will just get rid of you."

"Understand?"

Mr. Cerre nodded, then bit the end of the cigarette and quickly signed his name on the contract, and also pressed his fingerprints at Lance's request, in some key places.

Lance glanced at it, a smile on his face. "I will arrange for someone to send you back and, by the way, connect with you regarding the transfer of ownership of these movie theaters."

"Mr. Cerre…"

Mr. Cerre was in a daze for a moment. "Yes, I'm here."

"I hope this is the last time we meet."

He nodded vigorously. "I hope so too!"

He still had money, and a lot of money. Whether he started over or just laid flat, it was enough for him to live carefree for the rest of his life.

In fact, he hadn't been driven to desperation. When people realize they still have a way out, it's difficult for them to make extreme choices.

Lance had someone send him away.

After resolving this matter, he focused his attention on the chaotic docks and the New Port District. The influx of more refugees was causing the security of Goldenport City to decline.

The bad news was that, as he had considered, too many refugees had gathered in the New Port District, and the beginnings of gangs were starting to emerge.

Some people who didn't want to starve to death began to band together, robbing others of their food and wealth to fill their own bellies.

At the same time, some people who didn't want to be harmed also began to band together, often with a dozen or even dozens of refugee families as a unit.

They selected some young, strong men from within the families to serve as "guards" to protect them.

These were actually two gangs: one willing to do anything to survive, and the other just trying to protect themselves.

Police cars were constantly patrolling there, but it wasn't enough. Chief Blue even complained to him that some refugees deliberately committed crimes to get caught, just to go to prison.

Although the environment in prison was bad and it was hard work, at least there was a free lunch that allowed them to survive!

So the security of Goldenport City was visibly getting worse!

Shops were suddenly being robbed on the streets. The robbers wouldn't leave after robbing the shops, but would wait on the spot for the police to come, then put their hands on their heads and lie on the ground, waiting to be sent to the perfect "refuge."

Now that the Ministry of Defense's construction costs and budget hadn't been secured, even Lance had no good solution.

By the end of the first week of August, the security of Goldenport City had become even worse. Even Starlight District and Bay Area had seen some refugees.

Many people in the city were getting tired of these refugees, and the opposing emotions were continuing to escalate.

It was at this time that the Ministry of Defense's plan came down.

Congress approved their construction cost of $370 million, including the cost of temporarily改造the New Port docks, purchasing machinery, and all other initial expenses, but not including the part for building the naval dock.

Those, because of the construction needs, were directly involved in the construction by the Ministry of Defense and were on a separate budget.

In short, the budget was approved, and the next step was to enter the "sprint" phase.

General Grayson called Lance at the first opportunity to tell him that he could start acting.

Lance immediately registered a construction company and then, through the Lawrence family's connections, quickly filled some key positions. Then they started recruiting people.

Lance gave some of the job opportunities to Boni (the refugee boy), which helped him gain a foothold in the refugee community more quickly.

The other part was people from the Wanli Labor Agency going to the site to select workers. When the refugees learned that there was a big project, half of the New Port District was in an uproar!

With the initial engineering payment of twenty million hitting the account, Lance had never felt so confident!

He opened his mouth for 20,000 workers. His amusement park and Golden Casino were also about to start construction. These were all big projects that would last a long time, at least a year or more!

With so many job opportunities available, it wasn't just the refugees who were excited and seeking work.

Even the locals and immigrants were inquiring about suitable positions for themselves.

Every day, the area outside Wanli Labor Agency was packed with people, to the point where the road was blocked. Cars had to detour, or else they would be stuck in the middle of the dense crowd!

Lance was recruiting people at a rapid pace, and they were working as they recruited. People could already see workers constantly working on the wasteland north of the industrial area.

They were quickly removing anything that hindered the leveling process, like trees and stones.

Then, after ensuring the ground was roughly level, they began excavating or pouring concrete according to simple blueprints.

The entire area was a bustling construction site, radiating a thriving atmosphere.