Shadow Empire

Chapter 1220 Pressing forward step by step

When Christopher arrived at the bar entrance, a large crowd of onlookers and reporters had already gathered.

Some handcuffed people are standing behind the "stolen goods," dejectedly posing for photos.

Christopher didn't go over; he just sat in his car, watching what was happening across the street.

This is the largest and most luxurious bar in the area.

He invested at least two million in this bar, which has five of the most luxurious stages on the market, a spring-loaded dance floor, and all kinds of lighting and sound equipment, which are the best available on the market.

This place has become the best bar in the city, bar none.

It ranks among the top luxury bars in the entire state.

This place brings Christopher tens of thousands of dollars in profit every day, making it one of his biggest cash cows.

Previously, some local high-society figures had planned to partner with him, intending to invest some money in him and share in the bar's daily exorbitant profits, but he refused.

The two sides later fought a fierce battle over this matter, but in the end, the superior professionalism of the Sumuli gunman allowed Christopher to have the last laugh.

Unfortunately, this time, he couldn't have the last laugh like he used to.

There is no doubt that this bar will be shut down, and its contents will most likely be removed.

He slammed his fist on the car door. "Get out of here."

What the reporters didn't notice was that the bar owner was right behind them; their attention was completely drawn to the stolen drinks and money.

With over 100,000 yuan in cash and various alcoholic beverages worth 500,000 yuan, this is an extremely rare case in the local area.

The Prohibition agents' warm smiles couldn't be dispelled even by the cold wind. To them, this was a definite achievement, one that would allow them to climb higher or receive better treatment.

The police officers were also very happy. They had solved such a big case, and they would receive a reward and a vacation.

The reporters were even happier; they already knew what to write in tomorrow's newspapers.

Everyone was happy, except for the handcuffed guys and Christopher.

Christopher returned to his office and immediately called the police chief. This time, he didn't make the call while sitting down; he made it while standing.

The moment the call connected, he gritted his teeth and roared, "What the hell do you want?"

The police chief on the other end of the receiver paused for a moment, then coughed twice. The sound from inside disappeared for a while, and after a while, someone started speaking again after a door closed.

"I'm sorry for what happened today," he said, but there wasn't much genuine apology in his voice; it was just a perfunctory response, which Christopher could tell.

Christopher wasn't buying it at all. He slammed his hand on the table, making a loud thud. "If you were a little more sincere, I might believe you really felt guilty."

"Why didn't you call me before you took action?"

"Or should I try to notify my people?"

"I give you so much money every month just so you can treat me like this?"

In order to keep the police in check and prevent them from causing trouble, Christopher would spend about $30,000 to $40,000 a month bribing them. The police chief would receive $2,000 a month, and then each of the sheriffs and other officers would get a share of the money.

Besides the police, there were prosecutors, judges, and everyone else who could be involved in the bar business; he fed them all.

He had heard before that Lance had a lot of expenses every month, but at the time he didn't think so. He regarded it as a means for Lance to boast or for other purposes.

Now that he's running his own city, he realizes how expensive it really is.

There are many people in this city who make him uncomfortable, including more than a dozen municipal councilors, the police chief, the hazardous materials administration, and the mayor.

Even the mayor's staff, the councilors' assistants, and their relatives can make him uncomfortable. He not only has to build a network, but also make sure these people don't cause him trouble.

It's not easy to do that.

Even Lance needs to spend a lot of money on this, let alone Christopher, whose foundation is not as good as Lance's.
Only by feeding these people will they stop causing him trouble.

Their cooperation had always been very pleasant. He paid on time, and these people would give him advance notice of any plans or actions.

The two sides cooperated very well and happily before this.

Now everything has been ruined by the police chief, and Christopher is furious, not only at the police chief but also at Lance.

Lance wasn't in front of him, and even if he were, he might not dare to vent his anger on Lance, so he could only take it out on the police chief.

Faced with Christopher's accusations, the police chief did not back down, saying, "Listen, friend, I'm sorry I didn't inform you of this, because I couldn't have."

“This is under the mayor’s supervision. If you have any problems, grievances, anger, or anything else, you can talk to the mayor instead of me.”

"You're willing to give me money because I'm the police chief. If I weren't the police chief, you wouldn't give me any more money. So, I don't need you to tell me who to listen to, understand?"

"By the way, you don't have to pay me. Starting this month, it's your freedom. You can try it."

"I have other work to do and don't have time to chat with you. We can talk about it later."

The police chief hung up the phone, which made Christopher even angrier. "Damn it, you piece of shit!"

Tell him to call the mayor and then criticize him?
Although he can be arrogant at times, he is not arrogant to that extent.

He put down the phone, walked to the chair and sat down, looking completely listless and dispirited.

He hadn't even met Lance, or even met anyone from the Lance family, yet his career had suffered such a heavy blow, leaving him feeling utterly disheartened.

It was as if he had built a very beautiful castle on the beach, so lifelike that everyone said it was the most perfect masterpiece, and then a wave came crashing in.

You can see the waves coming, but you can't stop them from covering the castle. Even if you stand in front of the castle, the waves will still destroy the entire sandcastle!

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his mind a jumble of thoughts, yet also completely blank.

After a while, he asked, "What do you think... will we face next?" He sat up straight and looked at his brother-in-law sitting across the table.

The latter frowned and thought for a moment. He glanced at Christopher and said uncertainly, "I'm not sure. I don't know much about Lance, but his methods are indeed a bit..."

"I don't know how to put it. We are a gang, and he should fight us in a gangster way, not with such despicable means."

Perhaps in the eyes of many gang members, conflicts between gangs, or even simply conflicts between people, should be resolved using gang methods: shootouts, duels, or other methods.

Instead of using official power, they would be ridiculed.

But surprisingly, Lance used these methods to defeat them in just a few days, leaving them unable to even fight back.

Perhaps the reason why gangs disdain using official means is not entirely because they disdain involving the government in gang conflicts, but more importantly because they are unable to wield this "sharp blade."

This is like a "strategic weapon" in the underworld. All gangs avoid this issue. They won't admit that they are afraid of the federal government in this regard, but they also don't want others to use such methods against them, so they have established this unwritten rule.

The shootout should be between gangs, and the federal government should not be involved.

Many people felt that this was the right thing to do, and some even thought that involving the government wouldn't change anything. These people probably didn't feel this way, but Christopher did.

despair.

These officials and bureau chiefs could do whatever they wanted to him, and he had no temper or recourse. He could only watch helplessly as they confiscated his goods and shut down his most profitable bar. They were destroying everything he owned, bit by bit!
"Fuck!" he couldn't help but curse again. The phone on the table suddenly rang, and the ringing sound made Christopher shudder.

He looked at the phone with a bit of nervousness and panic. "Fuck, I don't want to answer. You answer it."

His brother-in-law, sitting opposite him, steeled himself and picked up the phone. "This is..."

His expression changed a lot in a short period of time. About twenty seconds later, instead of hanging up, he put down the receiver and looked at Christopher.

"There's a guy who refuses to pay the balance."

Their main job is selling alcoholic beverages themselves, and wholesale is also a major part of their business. They cannot possibly sell alcoholic beverages to dozens of cities and towns throughout the state themselves.

Apart from having their own retail outlets in two or three cities, they mainly do wholesale business in other places.

They leave a certain profit margin for those gangs, and then sell the alcohol to them at wholesale prices. The advantage of doing this is that the return on investment is very fast, and there are no operating costs.

He had always had a good working relationship with the local gangs, who would pay a deposit, roughly half of the payment.

Then they arranged for someone to deliver the goods to their door and collected the other half of the payment.

Just now, the person in charge of delivering the goods to another city called back. The goods have been delivered, but the other party refuses to pay the remaining balance.

This money should have been paid a few days ago, but the other party kept making excuses, saying they didn't have that much money on hand and asking their people to wait.

They've been waiting, and they're still saying the same thing. Clearly, these people have no intention of giving them money.

Christopher's head felt like it was about to explode, as if something was trying to burst out of his brain, and his entire skull was about to crack open!

"If I can't handle those guys, surely I can handle a gang?!" He slammed his fist on the table. "Get everyone here and teach them a lesson!"

His brother-in-law didn't respond immediately, but looked at him with a thoughtful, slightly worried expression, "Could this be... another trap?"

Christopher scratched his scalp hard; it was itchy, and he became even more irritable.

"If I don't act now... then we'll have no choice but to run back."

“More people will do this, taking our goods and not paying us.”

"Even if this is just a little trick by Lance, we need to let others know that while dealing with Lance might not be easy for us, dealing with them is a piece of cake!"

He slammed his fist on the table twice. "Tell the brothers to pull themselves together and let's vent our anger!"

Christopher's men quickly sprang into action. Their destination wasn't in this city, but in the neighboring city, a journey of about seven or eight hours each way, and a day would be enough for a round trip.

They must strike now; they can't always be on the defensive. Once the news spreads, the morale of their men will only drop even lower!

These men need to realize that they are not pushovers that anyone can just squeeze!
The Sumuli people do not have such a tradition; they believe in repaying blood with blood, teeth with teeth, and eyes with eyes!

Only by being fierce and aggressive, tearing and biting, could Sumuli have gained a foothold in various countries during the Great Migration period, rather than by admitting defeat.

Christopher didn't want to go back to the island, so he was going to try again. As long as there was a possibility, he was determined not to go back!
He didn't like that place; on Sumuli Island, he had no chance of advancement.

The four major families and high-ranking political figures firmly control everything on the island. People like him can only slowly rot on the island, becoming nourishment for the Bianchi family's growth and expansion, just like those who have already disappeared.

Christopher left with a large group of men, wanting to make sure that even if it was Lance's trick, a trap, they could pull their feet out after stepping in.

They brought a lot of heavy weapons, and even some explosives. Using explosives in a firefight in the Federation would escalate the situation, but he couldn't care less about that now.

As Christopher's convoy drove away, an elderly man sitting at a round table by the roadside, sipping hot coffee from a small cup and wearing a baseball cap, tossed his cigarette on the ground and put his hands in his pockets. "I'm going to make a phone call," he said.

The old men around him smiled and agreed to his request to leave; such people are common in this area, which is mainly inhabited by Sumuli people.

They were wearing woolen overcoats, sitting by the roadside around a small round table, basking in the sun. On the table sat a coffee pot that could be used to start a fire, constantly emitting steam.

They held coffee cups that looked no bigger than a ping-pong ball cut in half, and each time they would fill a small cup with piping hot coffee, then blow on it and sip it little by little.

During this process, they might chat, play cards, or eat something; this is the favorite social activity of the old men in Sumuli.

You don't need to know them all; they might just be passersby. But as long as you're from Sumuli, you can sit down and chat with them. They'll be happy to offer you their coffee, even if it's not made from expensive beans.

Every region and every ethnic group has its own way of life, just like this moment.

The elderly man wearing a baseball cap went to a nearby phone booth, took out two coins and put them into the coin slot, then took out a piece of paper from his pocket and dialed the number on it.

The call was answered almost immediately, and after hearing the voice on the other end, he said, "They've already left."

"Hmm... lots of cars. I don't know how many people are still here, but a lot of people have definitely left."

"okay, I get it."

After saying that, he put down the phone, returned to the table, and continued sipping his hot coffee. "Where were we?"

Another old man chuckled and said, "We were talking about how long those damned vampires on the island can hold out, and I heard that some people are rebelling against their 'tyranny.' They've formed some kind of resistance organization or something, but I don't know much about it."

The surrounding elderly people were all drawn to the news, and some even shared what they knew, enthusiastically making the most of their limited time.

The warm sunshine shines on you, the hurried footsteps of pedestrians on the roadside and their slow-paced lives mingle with the aroma of coffee constantly gushing from the coffee pot, and the flavor of life is all there.

Two hours later, three cars arrived outside Christopher's estate, and the lead car honked its horn twice.

The guard in the gatehouse, who was reading a vulgar magazine, glanced outside. It wasn't a familiar car. He walked to the gate, observed it again, and then walked out through a side door.

"who are you?"

He bent over and looked through the car window at the person sitting inside. The guy in the passenger seat was wearing a fedora and had very defined features, looking like a Sumuli person.

"The boss told us to come back and get some things."

The gatekeeper glanced at the people in the two cars behind, then his gaze returned to the Sumuli man in the front passenger seat. The man had a distinct Sumuli accent, something that outsiders couldn't imitate.

“I don’t know you,” the gatekeeper said dutifully. “At least I haven’t seen you on the estate while I was working.”

"If the Boss sent you, you'd better call him and let me confirm."

The guy in the passenger seat had a smile on his face. He seemed to have just remembered something. "Oh right, he told me to give him something when I came here, saying that you'll know once you take a look."

The security guard, somewhat curious, bent down a little closer to the car window. "What?"

The next second, the guy in the passenger seat suddenly grabbed his neck and pulled him into the car. This sudden change made the security guard start to struggle in terror, but soon he stopped moving.

Inside the car, the guy in the passenger seat had already slit the guard's neck with a dagger, and blood was gushing out all over him.

(End of this chapter)