American variety show: The Godfather, the Peace Ambassador, what the heck?

Chapter 172 Old Feuds Revisited
Seeing the progress bar of the bond suddenly rise significantly, Luca looked a little surprised.

I haven't even used the "Helen" trump card yet, and the matter of the treatment hasn't been exposed, and I've already found friends. And judging from the color of the bond, they're almost becoming close friends.

Night Demon's obsession with finding release is truly profound.
Luca exclaimed in admiration at the power of love.

[“Suit-wearing thug” unlocked]

[Skill Fragment -60]

[Skill added]

[Suit-Wearing Thug: When wearing a suit, evasion +20%, damage taken by the body (suit-covered parts) -20%]

This skill is considered a minor god-tier skill. Luca has decided to weld his suit to his body from now on, which will increase his evasion and reduce damage.

He looks really handsome in his outfit!
It's all advantages, no disadvantages!
When the couple left the club, they had already decided to get a puppy and raise it together.

That's great! Luca supports it. He can even have the dog carry the flower basket at his wedding!

The wedding will definitely take place after Nightmare retires. Luca isn't sure if the storyline between Nightmare and Vigo will continue as it was originally. If that happens, and Vigo wants Nightmare to wipe out all of the gang's enemies, Luca isn't worried at all.

Not to mention that Night Demon is his friend, even Vigo's own brother is making money with him. Besides, with so many powerful generals under his command, no matter how strong Night Demon is, he can't defeat him.

If Vigo still harbors any disloyalty, Luca wouldn't mind scattering their ashes.

Now, with Nightmare on the team, Luca is even more confident about the Boston trip. When schemes and tricks fail, let Nightmare take care of everything.

As for the Patriaca family...
Luca narrowed his eyes.

Disobedient families will be eliminated by the times.

The following day, Manhattan's Chinatown.

David and McLean, dressed in casual clothes, strolled through the streets. Almost everyone around them was Chinese, making up more than 70% of the crowd.

However, if you look at the shops on both sides of the street, there are quite a few white owners, and the shop assistants are almost all Chinese.

Here, Hakka and Cantonese are the main languages.

David and McLean listened for a long time but still couldn't understand what these people were saying.

“This place is like a city within a city,” David remarked with a sigh. “None of Little Italy or Little Russia, or even the Harlem black neighborhood, have such a strong sense of community.”

It's been turned into an autonomous region.

The two continued forward and finally arrived at an antique-style Chinese building with a plaque hanging on it that read "Chinese Chamber of Commerce".

But both of them knew that the businessmen here were big shots of the New York "Chinese Mafia".

Initially, people were used to describing Italians as the Mafia, but this similar gang structure has been used by the police to describe well-organized gang systems, such as the Russian Mafia.

Simply saying "Maffei" means Italian, but adding a prefix like race or country can encompass many different gangs.

The two went inside and wandered around for a while, then came out looking pained.

The other party was very tough and completely uncooperative.

The group of elderly Chinese men in white suits presented them with a bunch of Chinese customs to make things difficult for them.

—We have a long-standing partnership with the police, and they never investigate our casinos. I will report this to your superior!

Chinatown supports your police in arresting those street gangsters, and fully supports you! But don't come to our Chamber of Commerce to cause trouble!

For thousands of years, Chinese people have never bothered the police! Moreover, the practice of extorting money from businesses and collecting protection fees in Chinatown has been a customary practice for thousands of years.

At the gate, McLean looked exasperated. "Where do they get so many rules? And they keep bringing up thousands of years of history?"

David said speechlessly, "It would be fine if they actually followed the rules, but the key issue is that the crime rate here is very high, and this group is no longer satisfied with selling drugs in Chinatown. They've started selling drugs to Black people and Italians, which has spread throughout New York."

Moreover, this group of Chinese people are particularly adept at cultivating connections, and they have indeed reached some tacit agreements with some high-ranking officials in the New York Police Department.

David was well aware of this, but that couldn't justify their rampant drug sales.

“Mr. Wei seems to be just one of them,” David said. “Within their chamber of commerce, there is also a high-level organization similar to a committee, in which every member is involved.”

Mafia leaders are usually referred to as "boss," while Chinese gangs use titles like "master" or "mountain lord."

It also includes Incense Master, Red Stick, White Paper Fan, 49 Boy, etc.

It's no different from the Hong Kong system; it's a direct continuation of the same approach.

Currently, the head of New York's Chinatown is a Chinese man surnamed Huang—he is the unofficial mayor of Chinatown.

McLean muttered to himself, "Did you see that young man in the white suit earlier? That guy is Mr. Huang's son-in-law."

David nodded. The guy was indeed very young, looking only in his early twenties, about the same age as Old Pigeon. By Chinese standards of beauty, he was incredibly handsome.

The deeper David and McLean investigated, the more they discovered that the other party had numerous drug channels, with Boston being just one of them, and others originating from South Asia, such as Thailand and Hong Kong.

After the downfall of drug lord Frank, drug lords in the Golden Triangle quickly found new partners, one of which was the New York Triads.

Looking at the bustling street in front of him, David had a bad feeling; the undercurrents lurking here were unfathomable.

"Hopefully, Old Pigeon can take care of the drug lords in Boston as soon as possible." David's eyes were full of expectation. The Golden Triangle was out of reach, but Boston was not far from New York. With Old Pigeon's abilities, he should be able to handle the gangs there, right?
Over the next few days, a steady stream of intelligence from Boston came to Luca's hands—Leon had collected a lot about the major gangs in the north and south of Boston, and Luca had also obtained some from his family.

Marigio and Fatty Tony both know a lot about that area.

Finding Fatty Tony was part of Luca's plan. The Genovese family and the Patriaca family were on good terms, and if bringing Tony in would save Luca trouble by connecting him with the other family and extending business to them, he wouldn't bother with them, since he didn't have any grudges against them.

It wasn't until Marigio said helplessly, "Luca, our family has had several clashes with the Patriaca family, and you were involved in one of them."

At this moment, in the cigar room, a group of mafia bosses are discussing this matter. Luca has even brought Russell in, the old man is on the ship together, and they're working on building their bond together.

There is strength in numbers.

Hearing Marigio's words, Luca looked surprised: "When did this happen? I don't remember it?"

"Before you swear an oath, do you remember that out-of-town drug dealer who came to the Bronx to sell drugs?"

"."

Luca was speechless. Holy crap, that was almost two years ago.

Of course he remembered that guy; it was because of that incident that he learned of the existence of Matilda and Leon, those two nobodys.
So this family from out of town is the Patriaca family?

Luca said unhappily, "They started this trouble first, coming to our territory to sell drugs. We're already being very lenient by not killing them."

Margio spread his hands: "That guy is a gangster, not some nobody. Besides, we're going to do business on their turf. In short, I don't think there's much hope of cooperating with them."

Russell said softly, "I know a family manager in Boston. He's not an unreasonable person. If we can negotiate, we can all make money peacefully. A win-win situation is the best option."

Tony was also very enthusiastic about making money. "Luca, I'll act as a mediator and ask the other party for their opinion. I'll try to get both of you a chance to sit down and talk. Any misunderstandings can be cleared up. Making money is more important."

Luca was a bit annoyed; this boomerang from a year or two ago was still coming back to hurl at him.

Boston is quite a place.
A cold glint flashed in Luca's eyes. Peace would be the best option, but what if that wasn't possible?

Let's start the war then.

A second-rate family from out of town, occupying such a large, impoverished rural area, has the audacity to come to New York to traffic drugs. They should be prepared to get slapped.

night.

Inside a coffee shop in Boston.

A Black man was sitting next to me by the window, reading a book titled "The Old Man and the Sea" on the cover.

While reading, he would occasionally look up at the tall white man sitting at the bar. The man was wearing a small round hat, was tall and thin, and had a sullen demeanor. There was a cup of hot milk in front of him and a suitcase at his feet.

As a top agent well-versed in psychology and body language, the black man keenly sensed that the other party was not an ordinary citizen. He recognized the regulars of this coffee shop and also remembered the faces of several nearby neighborhoods.

But this guy is a stranger.

Are you just passing by and want to grab a coffee? Or do you have ulterior motives?
Even though Lyon didn't make any unusual moves, the Black man was already on guard. Hopefully, he wasn't a government agent.

If my identity is exposed, I will have no choice but to leave this city and find another place to live under an assumed name.

Lyon, sipping his milk, was unaware that countless thoughts were already racing through the other man's mind. He had simply come in for a coffee because he was thirsty while searching for his target.

Old Pigeon instructed that once found, there was no need to make contact for the time being.

After finishing his milk, Lyon turned and left the coffee shop, disappearing into the crowd on the street.

The Black man stared at the other man's back, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes.

"I hope I'm just being paranoid."

Shortly after, the coffee shop door opened again, and a young woman with heavy makeup and revealing clothes walked in.

Black people can make a preliminary judgment about someone's profession by looking at their attire.

His feelings were complicated. This girl was so young, she wasn't even an adult yet.
Noticing some scars around the other person's eyes, the black man's gaze darkened slightly.

There are too many inhuman scoundrels in this society.

(End of this chapter)