Shadow Empire

Chapter 1257 You'll only know the consequences and the price when you're hurt.

What is the truth?
Whoever speaks first knows the truth.

This is a funny yet cruel fact. Because people have limited access to information, many people have no way of knowing what is actually happening. Therefore, the content they come across immediately is what they perceive as true.

They firmly believe in this news and will reinforce this belief as it spreads. They will also spontaneously defend the information they have obtained, even though they themselves do not know whether it is true or false, in order to gain an active position on the information front.

If the first person to release the message is ahead of others not only in terms of time, but also in terms of social status, influence, and even authority, then what that person says is the truth.

The truth is unquestionable; whoever questions it is opposing everyone who believes it.

By then, those who had already accepted this news, whether true or false, as the truth, no longer cared what the skeptics were actually opposing.

Because in people's eyes, this questioner is questioning and opposing them, the people!
People who are anti-people and anti-social should be overthrown!
The Department of Defense was the first to speak out this time, and its authority in the federal community is beyond question, so the news quickly began to spread to the public through the media.

People knew about this incident: a group of robbers in Likale province attempted to attack a Ministry of Defense warehouse storing defense supplies, but were repelled by local guards and civilians.

This is the truth, the golden truth!

President Porter also saw the news, but he didn't pay much attention to it at first. As the most important port in the Union, Likale has naval and army bases. He initially thought that some petty thieves were planning to attack the Department of Defense warehouse to rob or steal something, and that they were killed by the Department of Defense personnel.

But soon he seemed to have made a connection to something and immediately called Mr. Zhongbo.

"The Department of Defense issued a statement today saying they thwarted a group of robbers attempting to raid a defense warehouse in Likale. Does that have anything to do with you?"

Mr. Porter paused for a moment, "I haven't heard about this..." He continued, "I...I don't know, I need to check."

President Porter remained calm. "Let's check it out as soon as possible," he said, then hung up the phone and frowned.

This was not good news for him either, as it severely damaged his authority and that of the entire Potter family.

It's like an emperor sending his bodyguard to cause trouble for a minister, only for the minister to kill the bodyguard sent by the emperor, claim that he killed a robber, and then hang the body up for display.

Ordinary people may not know much, so they will firmly believe that those people are robbers.

But for the other ministers who knew these inside stories, this was tantamount to a severe blow to the dignity and prestige of the royal family.

Mr. Potter was somewhat angry, and his anger stemmed from two parts.

Part of it is his son. He had already explained so clearly that he should be careful and cautious, but this still happened, bringing shame to the family and making him, as president, a laughing stock in the eyes of some.

Another part comes from Lance White, who has embarrassed himself more than once. Ever since Roland took over the FBI, he has been like a curse, always putting himself in a passive position.

Even now that he's president, Lance will still make him lose face, that damned commoner!
The Potter family ancestors were also in that painting. To him, anyone who wasn't in that painting was a slave or a lowly person!

His disgust for Lance had reached its limit!
However, he remained calm. The fact that so many attempts to take action against Lance had yielded no good results was enough to make Lance and the Socialist Party wary. It would be difficult for them to take action again next time.

Moreover, this matter involves the Ministry of Defense, and may even involve the military. He heard that Lance has a vested interest with the Ministry of Defense and the military.

If he can take down Lance before the people on the other side realize what's happening, there won't be much of a problem. Since it's a fait accompli, everyone can only accept the result.

But now that his son hasn't handled the matter properly, it has to stop. The military and the Department of Defense may not give him, the president, any face.

It should be noted that the Department of Defense and the military have just experienced an "unprecedented and enormous victory in war," and have achieved unprecedented improvements within the federal system of decentralization.

They can completely ignore orders that don't suit their tastes, even if the order comes from the Presidential Palace!
Major proposals in Congress require a majority vote (67 out of 100 people to agree) to pass. As for the Ministry of Defense, the military's proposals will only push them toward the Socialist Party. So even if the Ministry of Defense and the military directly disregard him, he doesn't have much of a good way to deal with it.

They have the power to do so, and Congress has no chance of arresting them.

A terrible start; hopefully things will go better from here on out.

President Porter couldn't resist lighting a cigarette. He sat in the chair behind his desk for a while, lost in thought, before getting back to work.

On the northern border of Likale State, Zhongbo showed that he had begun to arrange for people to investigate the specifics of the matter. Although no further concrete information came in, he had a feeling that the operation had gone wrong.

The statement from the Ministry of Defense was an endorsement of Lance's actions and results. He knew that neither he nor his father could afford to break ties with the Ministry of Defense at this time.

Lance escaped death once again!
Meanwhile, the farm was also waiting for the final news.

An officer in charge of the operation knelt on the ground, one of his legs broken. He looked at the remaining trainee agents around him with a somewhat bewildered expression.

The moment the armored vehicle appeared, he knew it was all over.

The machine gun fire shattered everyone's will to resist, and after one round of machine gun fire, everyone chose to surrender.

Especially the veterans who had returned from service, they knew all too well that wearing bulletproof vests made them no different from babies in front of a squad machine gun, so they immediately raised their hands.

Even so, only a little over thirty people survived, and almost all of them were injured.

Overalls, his face grim, was reporting the losses to Albert: more than twenty cowboys had died, all good lads, and several farmers and a farm woman had been shot dead.

This is the biggest loss of staff since the farm was established!
Albert sat in his chair, pipe in hand, listening to the reports with a blank expression.

After the man in overalls finished speaking, he glanced at him sideways and said, "Be careful how you talk to their families about this. Also, make sure they pay the full amount. If I find out they shortchanged you by even a penny, I'll skin you alive!"

"The farmers and farm women will also receive the same compensation as the cowboys, after all, they died protecting our farm, and we can't let people down."

"The compensation plan that Lance and his team came up with is very good. They bring these people's children to the farm, so they can go to school and grow up with our children. You should ask him for the specific details."

"As for these people..." His gaze shifted to those people, and to the things in front of them.

Various weapons and various documents, including the official NSA agent credentials of these operation commanders, as well as other documents.

These things are enough to prove that they are people from the federal government law enforcement agencies, so-called "official" people.

Meeting the gaze of old man Albert, the officer with the broken leg swallowed hard. It was summer, and the intense sunlight was baking the earth; he felt like he was about to be dried out.

Every time I swallow, my throat burns with pain, as if I've swallowed a handful of glass shards.

They all knew, and they were all waiting, waiting for an outcome, an outcome that would determine their fate.

After an unknown amount of time, they had cleaned up the mess on the farm, and the rest of the people gathered there.

They glared at the "captured" agents with hatred, wishing they could tear their flesh off.

Suddenly, the urgent ringing of the telephone startled everyone. The man in overalls answered the phone, said a few words, and then handed the receiver to Albert.

“I’ve already taken care of things. There’s no need to worry about any bad consequences. Just continue doing what you need to do.”

"Winemaking, crops, and all those other things."

Albert licked his lips. "We still have a few people left on our side."

"It's all resolved. Confiscate everything that could prove their identities, and leave no trace that shouldn't be left behind."

"The state police will come to collect the bodies later; just hand them over to them."

Albert hummed in agreement. "I understand."

He hung up the phone, stood up, adjusted his belt, and strode over to the officer.

Perhaps sensing his impending doom, the officer with the broken leg struggled to sit up. He looked at Albert with a clean, simple, even slightly foolish expression and eyes. "You can't do this. We're federal law enforcement..."

Albert drew the revolver from his waist, a gift from his father after he came of age. Its ivory handle and exquisite carvings made it look like a work of art.

But it is actually a deadly weapon!
This thing has a large caliber. In rural areas, during the era of slavery, large-caliber weapons represented all that was justice.

Anyone who gets shot, especially in the torso, will almost certainly not survive.

Of course, such a large-caliber revolver also has a strong recoil. If you are not a regular user, you may not be able to adapt to its terrible recoil and may even sprain your wrist.

Albert drew his pistol, pulled the hammer back as far as possible with his thumb, and released his thumb with a click as the spring snapped shut.

The gun was pointed at the officer's head. The officer took deep breaths and closed his eyes. "Damn it, come on, come on, you bitch!"

"Send Q!"

With a loud bang, smoke billowed from the magazine of the revolver, and the officer's head exploded like a watermelon!
The bullet shattered his entire face, including the bones, and then sent him flying!

In people's eyes, this guy just "poof"ed and then fell to the ground with a thud.

Large amounts of blood flowed from his wound at an alarming rate, quickly forming a small pool of blood in front of old man Albert.

He walked up to the second person and said, "You chose a master; you deserve punishment!"

The young man cried and begged, but the only response he received was being pressed to the ground with his neck being stepped on. In a very awkward and uncomfortable position, he and his superior successfully played the role of a former emperor!
He fired two shots, the powerful recoil impacting Albert's wrist. He holstered his revolver, took two steps back, and made a throat-slitting gesture. "Kill them."

The cowboys approached, guns in hand, and pulled the trigger amidst the pleas.

Some people were unlucky; they were shot twice but didn't die immediately. They struggled in pain for a while before being killed by the rifle.

Seeing that everyone had been cleared away, Albert nodded, took a puff of his pipe, and then billowed smoke from his mouth and nose. "Clean things up, then hand the bodies over to the state troopers."

"These sons of bitches!"

The state troopers arrived promptly, within two hours, and they even brought a truck with them.

When they saw the corpses everywhere, some state troopers were so horrified by the scene that they vomited!

Ultimately, through the cooperation and efforts of both parties, these items were removed, and the farm returned to peace.

But some people have left this place forever.

Back at the new farm, Albert recounted what had happened. The other two old men discussed it with him, and they ultimately decided to abandon the old farm and move everything to the new one.

The level of development here is much higher; whether it's safety or anything else, it's all done to the best of its ability.

The minor incident in rural Licale did not cause much of a stir in the media; it was simply a group of robbers being killed while attacking state property. People had little interest in the news or digging deeper into its details.

Mr. Porter soon learned of these events through his own channels, and he was particularly angry at the repeated setbacks and frustrations.

In a phone call with President Porter that evening, he said he would turn the tide as soon as possible.

"How are you going to turn the tables?" President Porter asked. "Tell me, when do you plan to deal with Lance, or at least make him suffer a loss?"

Mr. Porter hesitated, unable to speak clearly, "I haven't thought about it yet."

President Porter directly exposed his lie: "You're not just not sure, you haven't even considered it, or you simply don't know what to do!"

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. Lance is indeed one of our most hated opponents, but he is also one of our most cunning.”

"I had someone investigate the evidence our law enforcement agencies have gathered about the Lance family over the years. Do you know what I found out?"

Mr. Porter asked almost instinctively, "What did you find out?"

"I found an empty space!"

“We have no evidence of any crimes against him. Even if there is some evidence that might point to him, these cases are quickly closed by someone else taking the blame.”

"He doesn't do what gangsters do. He doesn't collect protection money, he doesn't extort ordinary people, including businessmen. Apart from selling alcohol and murder, he doesn't engage in any other criminal activities!"

"Oh, right, there's also Ying Zhao, but that's no way to bring him down. We can't make him fall with just a few prostitutes!"

“We should change our way of thinking and not let hatred cloud our judgment. I admit I was a bit impulsive on these issues, but I’ve calmed down now, so I’m telling you what I’ve found.”

"Don't try to deal with him using traditional methods. We are no match for him in this respect, I must admit that, although it may make you think I am ridiculous."

"But that's the truth. We've fallen into his rhythm. If we continue to follow his rhythm, we'll only lose more!"

"So what we need to do now is stop, drag him into our rhythm, and then take him down within our rhythm!"

Hearing what President Porter said, Mr. Porter had some realization. "You're right. So what do you plan to do now?"

President Porter smacked his lips. "Isn't he extremely wealthy?"

“Let the tax authorities cause him trouble. They’ll definitely be interested in his huge annual income and where it goes.” “If he wants to be a ‘civilized man,’ then let him put on the civilized man’s dress.”

After listening, Mr. Porter pondered for a moment, "I understand. I will stop all investigations into Lance."

"Well, let's do this for now."

“In the next few years, we need to consolidate our power, not waste our limited time fighting against a gang leader.”

The call ended there. Mr. Zhongbo put down the phone and lit a cigarette.

He sat there, watching the people coming and going in the sunlight outside the window, like the pulse of the city flowing in its "blood vessels".

He sat quietly for a while, then got up and left.

As for those young people who left their lives here, carrying dreams for the future?
He was very sorry.

But it's just a regret.

For these high-society figures, those people and those sacrifices will always just be a number, not a real, concrete person!
This is the cruelest aspect of rule; the people at the bottom are not even considered human in their eyes.

These people will receive a pension, but they will receive no other honors besides the pension. They will simply disappear here silently, without alerting anyone except the broker.

A few days later, the local gang leader received a call from the farm: "Our wine has arrived. Where do you plan to have them unload the goods?"

Over the past few days, the gang leader had also felt a growing unease. He didn't know why those big shots had asked him to do this, nor did he have any way of knowing more details.

The “robbery attack” that occurred in Licale did not connect to what he had done, or perhaps he had a slight suspicion but could never confirm it.

He's been playing the role of a rat in the sewers for so long that he seems to have completely become one with the character, ignoring the fact that those "cats" are actually people in disguise!
He couldn't believe the Lance family would dare to confront federal law enforcement on such a large scale and in such a direct manner; he was more inclined to believe it was just an isolated incident.

For several days in a row, there was neither bad news nor good news. Perhaps the lack of news is good news in itself.

Although he was still very uneasy, always feeling that he might have overlooked something, a week of peace and quiet gradually calmed him down.

When he received the call from the Lance family about supplying goods, he was still somewhat pleased, as it meant more profit and a more stable supply relationship.

He hesitated for a moment, "I heard you've run into some trouble?"

he asked tentatively.

The contact on the other end of the line couldn't help but chuckle twice. "Trouble?"

“Friend, you know nothing about us or the Lance family. There is nothing in Licarle State that can be, or even qualifies as, trouble for us.”

"In short, thank you for your concern. Those minor issues have been resolved. What I care more about is the stable cooperation between us."

After considering it for a while, the gang leader finally decided to make the deal with the other party first. After all, he had paid the money, and even if he didn't make much, he should at least break even on this deal.

He gave them an address, saying, "There's a warehouse here. I'll have someone waiting for you there."

After the contact confirmed the information, he hung up the phone. The gang leader then immediately arranged for people to do the job. Some people went to an empty warehouse, where they soon waited for an entire convoy to arrive.

"Is that a military truck?" one of the gangsters exclaimed, glancing at his companion before even lighting his cigarette.

His companions were also taken aback by the delivery truck; it was tall and had a sharp, angular design, just like the military trucks they had seen in some war propaganda.

The two looked at each other and saw something indescribable in each other's eyes: shock, fear, and something else.

The car quickly pulled up at the warehouse, and a person jumped out of the passenger seat. "You are... people?"

Several gang members immediately approached, all appearing somewhat reserved. "Yes."

Who is in charge on your side?

An official came out of the warehouse and said, "I'm the person in charge here."

The person who got out of the car glanced at him and said, "Let's call your boss to double-check. I don't want the goods to be delivered to the wrong place."

It didn't take long to confirm their identities, and soon they began unloading the goods. There were about five thousand cases of wine in total, and thirteen trucks were used in the process.

Because there were simply too many goods, they had no choice but to call in even more people.

These members of the Lance family are only responsible for delivering goods, not unloading them.

Hearing the constant stream of news from his subordinates, the gang leader finally breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that the Lance family hadn't encountered any trouble, at least not yet, and no one suspected him.

He paced back and forth in his office a few times before deciding to go to the site anyway.

Unless something seems amiss, he should at least make an appearance to show his appreciation for the collaboration.

Although this collaboration was completed at the request of a powerful figure, establishing a long-term supply relationship with the Lance family was still a good thing for him.

Besides Lion King liquor, local liquor smugglers also smuggle many other types of alcohol.

There is no unified structure in the state yet, and the customs and coast guard are heavily infiltrated, with all kinds of alcoholic beverages constantly flowing in.

With constant changes in suppliers, the prices of goods will also vary depending on the supplier, but overall, price increases are more common, and price decreases only occur when there is competition.

It doesn't have the same problems as the Lance family, and its price isn't as attractive as the Lance family's.

If he can maintain the cooperation, he can steadily earn more money, recruit more people, conquer more territory, and sell more wine...

This is a virtuous cycle, and eventually he may very well become a top gangster like the Lance family!
Having realized the importance of cooperating with the Lance family, he then had someone drive him there.

The meeting was pleasant. He observed the expressions and demeanor of these people and found that they did not show any hostility towards him. It seemed that all his unease was just his own overreaction!

After unloading the goods, he thought about it and decided to treat these people to a meal as a way of making a statement.

"Thank you so much for delivering these treasures so quickly. I was worried that my stock would soon run out, and you came at just the right time!"

He first praised the other party in this way, and then expressed his thoughts, "It's already late at night, and it's obviously not something I, as the host, should do to let you go back directly. What will my friend... (the contact person) think of me?"

"So please allow me to treat you to something to eat, then find a place to get a good night's sleep, and we'll hit the road tomorrow?"

The two people in charge of the convoy exchanged a glance, both seeing amusement in each other's eyes. They nodded. "Perfect timing, we're hungry too."

This brought a genuine smile to the gang leader's face, and he immediately ordered someone to prepare dinner.

Every city in this era has a nightlife. Although the atmosphere and environment of nightlife are dangerous, it can never stop men and women who are full of exploration and adventure.

Restaurants are also open in the evening, and they stay open until 3 a.m. It's only a little past 1 a.m., and they're still operating.

The group drove to a restaurant near the city center, but there were only a few tables occupied. While the restaurant does stay open late, it doesn't mean that so many people dine there every night.

"Prepare a few tables for me and my friends, and bring out all the best dishes!"

Clearly, this gang leader was a regular here; the restaurant manager beamed, "Of course, of course, we will always provide the best food!"

As he spoke, he led the group into the restaurant. The gang leader looked around and saw that the guests at the three tables had almost finished eating. He tapped the table next to him and said, "Tonight is my treat. It's time to go home, ladies and gentlemen!"

Some of the guests probably recognized him and immediately stood up nervously to express their gratitude.

He emerged victorious in the last "gangster finals," and in the city's night, he represents absolute order!

After everyone left, he opened his arms wide. "I feel much better now!" he exclaimed. He turned to the manager and said, "Before we leave, I don't want anyone else disturbing my guests, understand?"

Manager Lianbang nodded. In this city, if they offended this "gangster emperor," their restaurant would simply go out of business. So he certainly wouldn't refuse such a small, excessive request.

The manager gestured to the restaurant staff, and the "Open for Business" sign at the entrance was immediately turned upside down to "Closed," and the door was closed.

"Let's go inside." The gang leader was clearly very familiar with the place. He didn't even need the manager to guide him and led the two captains of the convoy into a private room inside.

The three sat down, his face beaming with smiles. "Bring me the best of everything, as soon as possible, my friends are starving!"

After the manager checked the dishes, he left immediately. The four people in the room (with one person accompanying the gang leader) began to chat casually about various things.

It could be described as an awkward conversation, since neither party knew much about the other and could only find topics to talk about through the lens of gangs and criminal businesses.

After chatting for a while, the manager started serving the dishes, all of which were very delicious dinners, including various kinds of meat.

The gang leader breathed a sigh of relief; he certainly wasn't a good conversationalist. "Quick, eat something to fill your stomach..."

At his invitation, the two of them didn't stand on ceremony and began to enjoy the food.

Members of the convoy and some of the gang leader's men were also seated in the lobby outside, and they were responsible for entertaining these people.

Before arriving, the gang leader had his men bring two bottles of liquor from the warehouse. He planned to use Golden Lion liquor to entertain Lance's men at the dinner table, which could also be considered a way of expressing his attitude.
He was so engrossed in the awkward conversation that he forgot about the drinks, but now that everyone has had some, he's remembered.

"Look, I completely forgot I brought two bottles of wine with me," he apologized, while telling his men to go back and get the wine.

Before long, his men arrived carrying two bottles of Lion King whisky.

Lans also has some "quota" requirements in its sales. If you buy a certain amount of the lowest grade of Bronze Lion wine, you must also buy some Silver Lion wine and a small amount of Gold Lion wine.

This can also be considered a promotional tactic; bars will offer higher-end drinks to their discerning customers to gain their favor.

Some customers simply enjoy consuming expensive drinks, as these drinks provide them with a sense of pleasure in the bar.

Just like the bars in the Golden Harbour City Bay Area before, the best-selling items are not the cheap drinks, but the whiskeys that cost three or five yuan a glass.

These people with purchasing power have a strange sense of conviction, as if drinking cheap wine would make them look low-class. So these wines can be sold, but not as well as cheap wines, since there are still more poor people than rich people.

The two captains exchanged a glance, then picked up napkins to wipe their mouths, seemingly waiting for the gang leader to pour them drinks.

The gang leader fumbled around for a moment, then quickly opened the bottle cap, stood up, bent over, and stretched forward to pour drinks for the two guests.

But as he continued backwards, he seemed to realize that something was wrong.

He stared intently at the wine being poured into the glass. After a while, with a puzzled look on his face, he took back the bottle, said "sorry," and then brought the bottle opening close to his nose to smell it.

It has no taste!
This is not right!

He had drunk Golden Lion liquor before, at the contact's place. In his impression, Golden Lion liquor was a very mellow liquor, very comfortable to drink, and could give people a richer taste and enjoyment.

But why does this wine in the bottle have no taste? It's just like... tap water.
He looked at the two people across the table with a confused expression, but what greeted him was two handguns already raised.

Puff, puff puff.

The small-caliber pistol didn't make much noise in the enclosed environment, and the sound didn't even escape the private room.

The gang leader slumped into a chair, clutching his neck. There was a bullet hole in his cheek, from which blood was oozing.

But he was not dead yet; he was still struggling to stand up, one hand gripping the tablecloth tightly.

His men died swiftly; two bullets pierced his forehead, and he fell directly to the ground.

The two captains walked around the table, stood in front of him, and expressionlessly raised their pistols, repeatedly pulling the triggers at his head until the magazines were empty.

After doing that, they changed the pistol magazine, sat back down, and continued enjoying their midnight snack.

A dozen minutes later, the moment they emerged from the private room, the people in the lobby who had been chatting animatedly with the local gang members all drew their pistols in shock, completing a silent massacre!

The restaurant manager immediately cursed "Fuck!" and hid behind the counter. The hall was filled with "puff puff puff" sounds and the sound of footsteps leaving.

The manager only stood up from behind the counter after the truck outside the restaurant started up and drove away quickly.

In the restaurant, more than a dozen corpses lay on the ground, slumped over tables, or sat in chairs without any resistance. Their deaths were almost identical: all had been caused by gunshot wounds to the head and neck.

"Damn it, something terrible has happened..." After a chill ran down his spine, he uttered a voice that seemed to come from the depths of his soul!
Something terrible has happened! The underworld, which had just stabilized, is about to fall into chaos again!

(End of this chapter)