Chapter 3

"Absolutely not," Tang Dao promptly declined. This place didn't feel right. If they suddenly appeared, they wouldn't be able to intimidate a coward like Root. After discreetly folding the dollar bills and tucking them into his pockets, he prepared to make his exit.

"Hey, buddy." Unexpectedly, Root intercepted him again. He raised his chin and brandished his revolver. "Next time you've got something good, remember to think of me. We can negotiate the price."

Tang Dao mumbled a few vague and dismissive words, adjusted his hat, opened the door, and walked out. Root followed him, passionately caressing his revolver, almost wiping the gun clean with his saliva.

An overpowering scent of smoke recklessly invaded his nostrils, rushing straight to his head. Tang Dao noticed Hall and his cohorts squatting in the corridor, exhaling clouds of smoke. As Tang Dao emerged, several pairs of eyes instantly fixated on him.

"I have something to attend to at home. I'll be on my way. This is for you." Tang Dao pointed his thumb, extracted a Franklin from his pocket, and handed it to Hall before briskly exiting the door.

Hall examined the hundred-dollar bill, and a smile crept onto his face. Suddenly, he felt the gaze of a few others upon him. When he turned, the eyes of his cronies lit up. He swiftly concealed the money in his pocket and cast a wary look at them.

"So, what was that about?" One of them asked, seemingly aware of what transpired.

"Toilet paper!" Hall retorted even more ruthlessly, his eyes wide open. Afraid that they might play tricks on him, he stood up, patted his posterior, dropped his cigarette butt on the ground, stamped it out, and then entered room 206.

"That was a hundred dollars just now?"

After a long pause, a blond-haired boy with freckles opened his mouth and licked his lips. "Did he make a deal? There must be money in his pocket."

Greed, envy, and possessiveness gleamed in their eyes when it came to money.

"Do you want to..." It was unclear who mumbled something faintly; everyone exchanged glances and instantly comprehended each other's thoughts. They got up and pursued Tang Dao.

That young man looked rather frail, and the three of them could easily overpower him, steal his money, and have some fun. Besides, in San Diego, crimes by people of color were generally overlooked by the police.

...

[The host is requested to withdraw the reward as soon as possible, cancel the reward when it expires, count down...]

Tang Dao trotted hurriedly along the road and accidentally collided with someone. He waved apologetically and, while listening to the prompt in his head, realized it was too late to go home. So, he reluctantly entered the adjacent alley.

Although Conway Street was known as a gathering place for Chinese Americans, the environment lacked friendliness.

He couldn't discern if something had fallen from the sky onto the telephone pole in the alley, but there were rather inappropriate feminine products hanging from it. The air carried a faint scent of decaying rats, pungent and unpleasant. Tang Dao accidentally stepped on something, splashing sewage half an inch high.

Tang Dao found a secluded spot where no one was around, pressed his head with his right hand, and contemplated, "Receive the reward."

[Reward generation... Received successfully!]

Two photos appeared on a virtual screen in front of Tang Dao, rapidly changing before stopping after a few seconds. On the left was a white man with a beard and piercing dark eyes. A small mole adorned the corner of his right eye, and there was text below the photo.

"Osborne Brandon, alias 'Ogre.' British national, formerly served in the 'Red Devil' paratrooper regiment as a sergeant, participated in the conflict with the Irish Republican Army. After retirement, he turned to a life of murder and robbery, ranking 78th among the top 100 wanted criminals in the UK, with a bounty of £180,000. Skilled in skydiving, CQC (close quarters combat), and proficient in various standard firearms..."

Tang Dao's breath caught, and his eyes shone with excitement. He didn't care whether the man was a murderer or not; if he could be useful, he was a valuable asset. He'd learned the cold truth from dealing with the California cartel in his previous life—good people rarely paid well. Self-interest was the way to go. Those glorified on TV met unfortunate ends.

Live and thrive.

Tang Dao shifted his gaze to the other photo—a man who appeared more ordinary but with Asian features, curved eyes, dimples at the corners of his mouth, and a beret on his head.

"Robert Lee, Chinese-American, alias 'Quick Gun.' Formerly affiliated with a gang in Alabama, signed on as a gunman. Primarily involved in cowboy competitions (quick-draw pistol duels). Total record: 67 wins, 1 loss. Personal record with a Sauer M38H pistol: 0.033 seconds!"

Compared to Osborne, this one wasn't much better. Sixty-seven wins implied he had taken dozens of lives.

Their first recruits were either killers or gangsters.

Tang Dao shook his head. These individuals were well-suited for the arms business, with their dark pasts, ruthless nature, and resilience against imprisonment.

Just when he thought the rewards had concluded, the electronic voice chimed in again.

[System employees initially pledge loyalty, but they also possess various emotions. The host is mainly responsible for their salaries and official benefits...]

Tang Dao's face twitched, and panic surged within him. He hastily checked the screen and discovered an additional option for employees. Osborne and Robert were both listed, each with an annual salary indicated: $50,000!

Incredible!

$50,000?

In 1991, the average income in the United States was $43,200, but this was Warsaw, Poland. Two years ago, with $50,000, you could have attended the "Roundtables" meeting between General Jaruzelski and Lech Walesa, leaders of the Solidarity union, during the peak of Eastern Europe's upheaval in Poland.

Poland at this time...

Broke and dilapidated!

"It seems like I've been scammed."

Without doing anything, he already owed $100,000.

Suddenly, Tang Dao felt a chill down his spine, as if he were prey being watched. He abruptly raised his head and saw two people walking side by side not far away. The bearded man was deftly twirling a dagger in his hand, squinting at Tang Dao with a predatory gaze, as if admiring a "prize."

"What are you looking at, Mr. Osborne?" Tang Dao sensed the palpable hostility, his legs going weak. However, he scowled and asked, "Did no one tell you that you smile like those street girls?"

This system was truly irresponsible, pairing him with a thorn.

Osborne flicked the dagger in his hand, his eyes turning menacing, while Robert's right hand instinctively reached for his crotch. Despite the absence of a gun here, the gunfighter's reflex remained.

Footsteps echoed chaotically, breaking the tense atmosphere. The three turned their heads simultaneously, spotting three Caucasians running towards them, panting heavily.

"Are you also looking for this Chinese?" The blond and freckled young man spoke first, frowning, and looking at Osborne from time to time. The main reason is that this guy is too wide, close to 190 in height, muscular all over, with wrists And a tattoo, "She's gone!!"

Taken from the classic song of Polish singer Stephen Davos.

"He took our things, I just need to take them back." The freckled youth didn't mention the money, for fear that Osborn and others would have an idea, so he deliberately sold out his cleverness.

Tang Dao frowned, and immediately cleared the tricks inside.

These guys regard themselves as "meat tickets"!

In Eastern Europe and even the Western world, Chinese people are notoriously obedient and easy to bully.

Even in the coming-of-age ceremony in some places, robbing a Chinese is an honorable task. Often these Chinese who are robbed have the idea that one more thing is worse than one less thing. Coupled with special reasons, this is undoubtedly Indulge in the arrogance of these people.

The term meat ticket means killing pigs!

It's a very contemptuous word.

"Boss, they... regard you as a pig." Osborn's teasing words were very harsh to his ears. Tang Dao's face flushed instantly, and the freckled young man with cold eyes swept over him. The other party heard Osborne's words Appellation, obviously... confused.

boss?

His eyelids trembled, this group of people are together!

He turned around immediately and was about to run, but just as he turned sideways, a cold light flashed across his face from the corner of his eye!

"I hate your mother!" Tang Dao rushed towards the freckled young man, holding a pair of small scissors while swearing at his mother! This is brought out from home, in order to prevent Root from taking the goods and not giving money...

Unexpectedly, it was used in a fight.

It happened so suddenly that the freckled youth didn't respond, and the scissors pierced through his right armpit. The severe pain made him scream, but it stopped abruptly in the next second. On the opponent's stomach, after this series of moves, half of his life was gone.

"Kill...kill! You killed Bosman!" The remaining two were terrified, backed up a few steps, turned around and ran away very shamelessly.

"Bastard, grab my head?" Tang Dao knelt down and grabbed the hair of the freckled young man named Bosman. The greed in the latter's eyes had long since disappeared, and now there were only fearful gasps and a faint cry.

"Boss, do you want me to kill him for you?" Osborne's disgusting words came again, but was immediately interrupted by Tang Dao, "Shut up! You idiot, I am the boss, no People tell you your mouth stinks like Thatcher's butt, if you talk too much, **** off."

This sudden outburst obviously stunned Osborn and Robert. The former's face darkened suddenly. He wanted to refute, but when he opened his mouth, it was as if a force was pressing him, making him swallow the words back. , lowered his head and hummed a few times, but he was obviously very unconvinced.

Tang Dao stood up panting, looked down at Bossman, raised his foot, and stomped on his head. He turned his head to look at the two employees, and said in a deep voice, "I'm the boss!"

Osborn remained silent, but Robert nodded obediently.

He took a deep look at the British guy...

If you are disobedient, I will kill you and exchange your head for pounds!