Step Out and Die, Ethan! I’ll Slaughter Your Neighbors One by One!

Thanks to Uncle Ray's intel, Ethan Cross finally had a clearer grasp of the threat they were dealing with.

The gang was made up of laborers technically tied to a company called TerraWorks Construction. But they weren't official employees—just a bunch of grunt workers hired by some sketchy subcontractor. Still, to outsiders, they paraded around as if they were legit TerraWorks staff. It gave them face. Clout.

They started calling themselves the Terra Gang, and their self-proclaimed boss? A short, wiry man named Harold Fang.

"Ethan, what's your plan?" Uncle Ray asked. "If you need help, just say the word."

Ethan smiled faintly.

Going out there to confront the Terra Gang head-on? That was a death sentence.

His greatest weapon wasn't firepower—it was the fortress he lived in. The moment he stepped out, he'd be facing close to twenty brawlers. Even with a gun, that was suicide.

"Better to play it safe," Ethan said calmly. "I'm not looking for revenge right now."

"It's just me—and you, Uncle Ray. Even combined, we don't have a guaranteed shot at winning."

"Unless…" Ethan's eyes flashed with a cold gleam. "We get the rest of the building involved."

Uncle Ray's eyes widened in realization. "You mean... form our own group? Like their gang?"

"Exactly," Ethan nodded. "Fight as one."

"I'll post it in the residents' group chat. See who's down."

"No need," Ethan said flatly. "If we try too hard to pull people in, they'll get suspicious. Think we're scheming or trying to take control."

"Then what do we do?"

Ethan chuckled. "We wait. We've got food and supplies. Time's on our side. The Terra Gang? They'll be back. No way they're swallowing the loss of that many men."

"When they return for revenge, the rest of the neighbors will come crawling to us for help."

Uncle Ray looked at him in admiration. "You're a genius."

They shook hands and reached a silent agreement: do nothing for now.

Meanwhile, in the residents' group chat, everyone was busy trying to play moral police.

"Ethan, Uncle Ray, you guys are so brave! Heroes! You should lead the charge!"

Ethan rolled his eyes. He could smell the hypocrisy a mile away.

They were just trying to guilt-trip them into doing the dirty work. Praising Ethan one minute, and the next minute whining about being too old, too weak, too hungry to fight.

Typical cowards.

Ethan knew them too well. He wasn't going to waste his time.

Let them bleed first. Only pain teaches the spineless.

Over the next two days, Ethan focused on gathering intel.

He didn't go out himself—he'd become a target the moment he stepped outside. Too many eyes were watching his stash.

Instead, he sent Dr. Chloe and Uncle Ray to sniff around. One was a doctor, the other a retired security guard—they had connections.

Ethan needed one thing: clarity. Of the thirty buildings in Bayview Heights, who was dangerous?

Dr. Chloe even drew up a chart. Names, gang sizes, weapons. Organized and detailed.

Ethan studied the sheet, nodding as he read.

Turns out, Bayview Heights wasn't full of psychos. It was still a mid-tier neighborhood. But two groups stood out like blood on snow.

First: The Terra Gang, based in Building 26. Mostly hardened construction workers. Tough, brutal, experienced.

Weapons: shovels, steel pipes. No guns. The makeshift bomb they used earlier had been handcrafted by one of their own—a guy with demolition experience. That guy was toast now, thanks to Ethan's fire trap.

Still, they might have more stashed.

"We need to burn through their reserves," Ethan murmured. "Send in a few meat shields and see what they've got left."

The second group? Building 21.

A gang of arrogant young punks who called themselves Wolfpack. Cringe name, but solid combat ability.

They were mostly former college students and small-time street thugs in their early twenties. Fifteen members, give or take.

Their leaders: Kyle and Shawn.

Ethan knew them both—local troublemakers, famous for doing nothing with their lives. Graduated from third-rate colleges, never worked a day, and lived off their parents.

Back in the day, they wouldn't have even dared mess with someone like Tony Chen.

But with no Ethan-level enforcer in their building, they rose to power fast.

Outside of these two gangs, the rest of the complex was falling apart.

Some buildings had only ten families left. Others had already turned into ghost zones—mass suicides, murders over food, complete breakdown of order.

Now Ethan had a map of the battlefield.

He turned to Dr. Chloe. "Keep digging. I want every threat identified. Especially guns. That's the priority."

She nodded sweetly and got back to work on her phone.

Ethan and Uncle Ray stayed low, locked in.

The Terra Gang? They were seething.

They'd lost eight men that day. Two more died later from burns.

They had never taken such a brutal hit.

They swore vengeance. They would wipe out Building 25. Kill Ethan Cross and avenge their fallen brothers.

But there was a problem.

They hated Ethan—but they feared him more.

After witnessing his tactics and seeing the fortress he'd built, they knew better than to attack head-on.

So they changed tactics.

"If we can't kill Ethan," Harold Fang growled, "we'll kill everyone around him."

"Make him suffer. Watch his neighbors die. Hear their screams. See their corpses."

"That's how we'll break him."

Pathetic logic, but it worked for them.

Over the next few days, the Terra Gang returned again and again.

Each time, they hit a different apartment. Slaughtered innocents. Painted the hallways with blood.

One message stood out—written in big, dripping letters:

"Ethan, if you don't come out, I'll kill every last one of your neighbors!"