Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 98 The Fate of the Chinese Laborers in Chinatown Has Arrived

A mocking smile curled at the corner of Lawson's lips.

Most of the Chinese laborers were "coolies".

They were indentured laborers lured in by their fellow villagers and human traffickers with lies about gold everywhere.

They either signed indentured servitude contracts or borrowed money at exorbitant interest rates to afford that damned ship ticket.

Even if they work like oxen and horses here for ten years, they may not be able to pay off that debt with its compounding interest.

They can't go back, and they have nowhere to go.

Thus, this isolated island, the size of twenty-seven football fields, became their only place to curl up.

They could only huddle together here like sardines, enduring the first layer of exploitation from the three major halls, the second layer of exploitation from the six major associations, and the third layer of bloodsucking from the corrupt politicians of San Francisco City Hall.

They fed the three-layered monster with their own flesh and marrow.

Here, morality is a luxurious joke.

The prerequisite for all standards is survival.

Lawson remembered a small incident that Mai Ling had reported last night.

A fifteen-year-old girl sold herself to Feng Haitang's pig farm in order to buy medicine for her younger brother who had contracted tuberculosis.

When her mother received the money from selling herself into servitude, she didn't cry at all. Instead, she told everyone she met that her daughter was capable and could support the family.

Being able to sell yourself for a price is not considered shameful here.

This is a skill worth showing off.

A kind of honor that allows the whole family to have a bowl of porridge tonight.

Lawson is not a saint.

He wouldn't judge these wretches who struggled to survive in the cesspool of the 19th century using 21st-century moral standards.

He showed no pity, nor any sympathy.

All he had was a much bigger plan.

Northern California.

There, he is working on building a brand new settlement.

There is a world there that is tens of thousands of times larger than Chinatown.

There are clean rivers, mountains covered with lush redwoods, and vast plains where apples and grapes can be grown.

As long as you have two hands and are willing to work, you can cultivate a piece of land, build a wooden house that truly belongs to you, and have enough to eat.

Of course, the most important thing is——

That was his territory.

The main structure of those towns will be entirely composed of his henchmen.

The guns of the White Tiger Security Guard are iron fists under the sunlight.

Hyena, slut, quick gang, and old spotted dove—these ruthless bandits are his fangs in the dark.

There, Chinese people don't have to worry about being bullied by foreigners.

Any hand that dares to reach into his territory, whether from thugs or the state government, will only meet one end: it will be cut off at the root.

He has already taken control of most of the order in Northern California.

At most, three more months.

Lawson silently calculated in his mind.

In three months, he could turn the entire Northern California, from Sonoma to Napa and then to Mendocino, into an impenetrable territory.

Let alone these 40,000 Chinese.

He could easily fit another 40,000.

He wanted to take these "sardines," squeezed until they were nothing but bones, out of this filthy "can," clean them, and transport them to his ranch.

They will live, reproduce, and work there...

It created ten times, a hundred times, the value of Chinatown for him.

They will be his workers, his farmers.

They will be the first cornerstone in building America's new order.

Lawson snapped out of his reverie; the cigar had burned to the very end, scalding his fingers.

He casually crushed the cigar butt on the windowsill.

The Qingshan Society has already set up shop and taken over all of Feng Haitang and Long Zhitang's businesses.

He Wei also left behind a considerable legacy.

"You and your men must shut down all the opium dens left behind by Heweitang."

"Lossen gave the order."

Mai Ling was kneeling in front of him.

She had just dealt with a minor problem caused by his morning heat.

Mak Ling stood up from beside him.

She first picked up the leather belt with the brass buckle and carefully fastened it for him.

Then, she gently wiped her overly rosy lips with a clean white silk handkerchief.

She replied obediently, "Yes, Master Qing. Should we seal it all off? The rest of the opium..."

He Wei had quite a lot of stock, enough to fill two entire basements.

"Don't you know that San Francisco deputy mayor, Buckley?" Lawson said indifferently.

"It's recognition."

"That's good."

Lawson lit another cigar and blew the smoke mercilessly onto Mai Ling's delicate face: "Sell the rest of the stock to him at a low price."

He didn't mind that these drugs continued to poison those foreigners.

Barkley would be happy to take on the business and handle all the ups and downs for him.

This deputy mayor is quite interesting.

This will also be the first nail he drives into San Francisco City Hall.

He not only wants to kill people and seize land, but he also wants to reach into the political heart of those white pigs.

"I understand, Master Qing."

Just then, Lawson's ears twitched slightly.

A white policeman was pushing aside the sentry he had set up downstairs, cursing under his breath, as he walked upstairs.

They're here to collect fees.

Same old thing.

These SFPD bastards are more punctual than the three major tribal groups.

“A white cop came to cause trouble,” Lawson said calmly to Mai Ling.

"Go down and get a few silver dollars to get rid of him."

Mai Ling smiled charmingly: "Don't worry, Master Qing, I have plenty of experience dealing with them."

"SFPD! (San Francisco Police Department!)"

"Get the hell out here! It's time to pay your fees, you yellow-skinned bastards!"

Captain Patrick Callahan, the highest-ranking officer in the Chinatown Police Department, sat regally on a mahogany bench on the second floor.

His blue police uniform was wrinkled, and the brass buttons on the collar were undone, revealing a tuft of ginger-yellow chest hair underneath.

His bright red, bulbous nose twitched violently, as if he were sniffing the lingering smell of blood in the building.

Behind him followed two nervous-looking rookies.

The two young men had just started their internships at the police station; they gripped their batons tightly, their palms sweating.

Callahan threw his baton on the table and pulled out a crumpled pack of tobacco.

"What are you looking at, you kids?"

Callahan scoffed dismissively.

“You two, what were your names again… oh, Finn, and you, O’Malley. Welcome to the ‘cesspool’.”

He picked up a pinch of tobacco with his grimy fingers and rolled it into a cigarette paper.

He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and narrowed his bloodshot eyes: "Listen carefully, this is your first lesson here."

"Chinatown is unlike anywhere else in San Francisco."

"These yellow-skinned monkeys, they like to kill each other, they like to smoke opium, and they like to sell their own little girls like livestock. That's their 'culture,' you understand? That's the rule brought by their damned Celestial Empire."

"As long as they pay the fees on time and in full, even if they chop human flesh into mincemeat right here in this house, it has nothing to do with us."

"Got it, boys."

Callahan, like a wizard imparting dark magic, said: "Don't ask anything, don't worry about anything. Come on time, take the money, and leave. This place is the fattest 'gold mine' in our department."

"Are we police?" he chuckled low. "Bullshit! We're toll collectors."

Trainee officer O'Malley couldn't help but speak up. "But Captain, something's not right here."

“Long Zhitang, Feng Haitang, and He Weitang, they have all disappeared.”

"The three major gangs have all disappeared overnight; war is about to break out!"

Callahan was stunned for a moment, then burst into deafening laughter.

"You naive little bastard, this is perfectly normal!"

Callahan glared at the two rookies and snapped, "Is this your first time meeting a Chinese person?"

"It's quite obvious that among this group of infighting 'Johns,' an even more ruthless one has emerged, a dragon from across the river."

"He's cleaned up all his enemies. Now, he's the new emperor of this street, the guys downstairs, the Green Mountain Society."

"Then what do we do?" Finn asked nervously.

Callahan looked at him like he was an idiot: "We're not doing anything the hell! We're just waiting here! Waiting for that new emperor to obediently hand over his 'protection money' to me!"

"Whether this place is Longzhitang or Qingshanhui, the name may change, but the rules cannot. Anyone who dares not to pay, we'll kill them!"

"But what if they break out of Chinatown?!" O'Malley, this stubborn newbie, was still getting stuck on this point.

This issue finally touched a nerve with Callahan.

"Jesus Fucking Christ!"

Callahan jumped to his feet and grabbed O'Malley by the collar.

"Then use that damn baton on your waist! Beat their brains out!"

He shook O'Malley violently: "They only dare to act tough in their own territory! Do they dare? Do they dare to cause trouble outside of Chinatown?"

"They don't dare!"

Callahan answered himself: "Unless they want to be hanged on telephone poles by all the white people in San Francisco!"

"Cough...cough...Sir, I...I understand..." O'Malley's face turned red from being strangled.

"Humph."

Callahan released his grip, breathing heavily.

Just then, a series of footsteps with a unique rhythm came from the third-floor staircase.

A figure slowly walked down.

Mai Ling.

She changed into a dark green high-necked cheongsam, embroidered with intricate phoenixes in gold thread.

She walked straight to a grand chair and sat down gracefully.

Callahan's face instantly lit up with the lewd smile typical of seasoned johns.

He knows Mak Ling very well.

“Oh my… look who this is?” Callahan exclaimed dramatically, “Mailing, my dear little bitch!”

He swaggered over and plopped down on the table opposite Mai Ling.

"Those 'big shots' like Master Long, Jing Hai, and He Wei have all disappeared. Did they feed to the sharks, or were they buried in the foundation?"

He reached out his dirty hand, trying to touch Mai Ling's face.

"You're the only lucky little thing left. You're really lucky to be alive."

He clicked his tongue in amazement: "Looks like your new sugar daddy dotes on you, huh? Has your silver tongue helped him out again?"

"Snapped."

Mai Ling slapped Callahan's unruly hand away.

Callahan's smile froze.

"Don't forget, Patrick."

Mai Ling finally raised her charming peach blossom eyes.

“Last month, at the Eagle Casino, you lost all of your wife’s living expenses and still owe me fifty silver dollars.”

"You want to pay me back now?"

"Or do you want me to send someone to your house to talk to your tigress about your mistress on the side?"

“You…you fucking…” Callahan’s face instantly turned liver-colored.

This bitch!

She actually dared to expose his past in front of two new recruits!

Mai Ling chuckled softly and ignored him.

She took out a heavy cloth bag and threw it on the table in front of Callahan.

"Take your money and get out of here."

"Don't come to Chinatown unless you have to. Your disgusting smell of alcohol is suffocating my guests."

Callahan's eye twitched.

He grabbed the money bag, skillfully untied the rope, and poured out a few coins, weighing them in his hand.

"Ding...ding-dong..."

The crisp clinking sound of silver coins is the most beautiful music in the world.

Sixty silver dollars?

Callahan's face was all smiles again, as if the embarrassment from just now had never happened.

“Your new sugar daddy is fucking generous, Mak Ling.”

He quickly stuffed the money pouch into his inner pocket and patted it, the solid feel of it making him feel completely comfortable.

"Warn him for me."

“Once he takes this money, he can turn Chinatown upside down, and I, Patrick Callahan, will just pretend I didn’t see a thing!”

“But!” He pointed the thick baton at Mai Ling’s chest.

"Please, please don't let this affect the neighboring streets. Otherwise, I'll personally smash his head in. I swear."

He let out a triumphant laugh, and taking advantage of Mai Ling's momentary lapse in attention, he reached out his greasy, dirty hand and gave her pert buttocks a hard grope!
"Feels great! Hahaha!"

A hint of murderous intent flashed in Mak Ling's eyes, but she quickly concealed it.

"roll!"

"Let's go, boys!"

Callahan was completely satisfied; the sixty silver dollars were burning hot in his arms. "Tonight's drinks, and the whore, are all on the Chinese's tab! Hahaha!"

He led the two equally excited rookies out the door, laughing wildly, and stepped back onto the cobblestone streets of Chinatown.

"Boss, shall we go to the Barbary coast?"

O'Malley asked excitedly, "I heard the girls there are the hottest!"

“Of course! Let’s get completely drunk first, then have some fucking fun!” Callahan patted the money pouch in his arms triumphantly.

Three San Francisco police officers walked out of the main hall, laughing, and then out of the Chinatown archway.

I stepped onto Sacramento Street, which connects two worlds.

That means we've left Chinatown.

Callahan walked along, excitedly patting the money pouch in his pocket, showing off how much fun he planned to have.

"The air here is so much better, unlike the stench in Chinatown!"

"After we finish our drinks, let's go find some French girls, that's real action, unlike these dead fish from Chinatown..."

He hasn't finished speaking yet.

An Irish vagrant suddenly darted out from the narrow alleyway next to him.

He was clutching a cleaver that looked like it had been stolen from a slaughterhouse!

Callahan only had time to turn his head.

"Crack!"

Blood spurted out.

Patrick Callahan's right hand, the one that had just slapped Mai Ling's thigh, was cleanly severed at the wrist.

The severed hand was still clutching that heavy money bag.

It fell onto the cobblestone path.

The Irish vagrant grabbed the money bag from the ground, along with his severed hand, turned around, and disappeared back into the maze-like alley.

The whole process took less than two seconds.

"My hand...my hand!!"

The two rookie officers were so frightened that they forgot to draw their guns.

They stared dumbfounded at their superior, who was gushing arterial blood like a blood bag, letting out a pig-like scream.

P.S.: You guys are amazing! You pushed me to 120th place on the monthly ticket ranking. I admire you guys!

Today I received 800 votes, which guarantees at least 10,000 words. I should update 26,000 words today.

Here's 24,000 words to start. I'll make up for the one chapter I owe with two more tomorrow, and I'll keep adding more tomorrow. Keep bombarding me with chapters, brothers! Ah!
(End of this chapter)