I was acting crazy in North America, and all the crazy people there took it seriously.

Chapter 12 The Boring Nightlife of Luo the Vendor

While the media and the public were focused on The Sun's "utter shamelessness," no one noticed the undercurrents swirling in the underground world.

A meeting that would profoundly influence the future of Chicago was taking place quietly.

Donald O'Connor, the young leader of the Irish gang, sits face to face with Al Capone, the young second-in-command of the Chicago Mafia.

Donald deliberately drew out his Irish accent and mocked, "Last time I said I wanted to talk, you said you were too busy running the newspaper. Now look what's happened, you spent money to buy a lousy newspaper office, only to send a few underlings to work for the government."

"Are you stupid? You can't even read properly, what are you trying to do with being civilized! Hahaha..."

Al Capone's facial muscles twitched, and his jaw clenched.

However, since it wasn't the first time he'd been mocked so closely, he took a breath and suppressed his surging anger.

"You're right, we should play with things we can play well. Shall we have a proper talk now?"

After being specifically reprimanded by the Sith Master, Al Capone realized that he could not monopolize the right for others to trade with the Master.

What's even more infuriating is that he also has to comply with the elder's request to send money to The Sun for advertising.

The person in front of us is very likely to qualify because of The Sun.

Al Capone couldn't kill him with a single shot—this guy had fought in the World Wars, and two Al Capones couldn't match his speed in drawing a gun.

This made Al Capone even more eager to expand his power, and he completely threw the useless newspaper aside, only wanting to talk about stabilizing the situation first.

"Alright, let's have a good talk then."

Donald, though he was shouting loudly, knew in his heart that there were many in the Irish gang who were trying to sabotage him, and now was not the time to confront the Italians head-on.

If the external situation can be stabilized through negotiations, that would be the best outcome.

The two, who shared the same goal, eventually softened their sharp, piercing gazes and put on exaggerated smiles.

Donald leaned toward Capone and made his demand first, “You have to get off this street; this has always been our gang’s territory.”

Alcapon shook his head firmly, "You've already shrunk off this street. We've invested huge resources in it, and it's impossible for us to just withdraw like this."

Donald tapped his fingers on the table, making a dull thud: "Then what do you suggest we do?"

Al Capone's stubby fingers traced a line in a certain direction: "Let's each take a step back. This street is still ours, but we're giving up those two streets and handing them over to you."

Donald paused for a moment, then drew an invisible line on the table with his hand. "From now on, this is Irish territory, and you Italians are not allowed to set foot here. Deal?"

Al Capone snorted. "Deal! And don't let me see a single Irishman on my turf."

After reaching a settlement, neither of them wanted to stay a second longer. They stood up at the same time, turned around, and walked away from each other.

Al Capone's smile froze instantly, and he cursed silently in his heart: "Irish pig, humph, even if you can get some benefits from the Venerable One, you don't know that I am the chosen one."

"Just you wait. Once I become the boss of Chicago with the Venerable's help, I'll be the first one to eat a bullet!"

Donald's smile vanished instantly, and he thought viciously, "Italian scum, you probably don't know what it means to be the chosen one... Once I've sorted out the Aibang, your entire territory will be the first thing I'll take!"

……

Logan had no idea what his two chosen ones were thinking, only that their orders for moonshine had started to increase dramatically.

This led him to ruthlessly reject Anne's request to "add more shots" at night, transforming him into the ruthless porter "Han Solo," shuttling back and forth across the US-Canada border at night.

There's nothing we can do; we still lack sufficient initial capital.

If he had tens of millions of dollars right now, he could just fill his space backpack with drinks all at once and he wouldn't have to travel back and forth in all kinds of weather, since his space backpack is big enough.

For now, the only option is for Donald and his crew to place their next "order," and then "Han Solo" will make a trip to Windsor, Canada. After returning and exchanging the money for cash, they'll use that as capital to order more whiskey and ship it back.

Well, to make a distinction, "Han Solo" brought different brands of whisky for Donald and Al Capone, which was quite a thoughtful touch.

In the unknown darkness, Han Solo, all by himself, created a small river between the US and Canada where US dollars and fine wine flowed back and forth.

It requires absolutely no technical skill.

In this way, compared to the happy life during the day, the life of silently earning tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of US dollars at night is really too boring.

But Han Solo could only grit his teeth and persevere.

It will be good when the "small river" on the US-Canada border becomes a "big river".

That night, Han Solo exported alcohol and took money from a secret warehouse prepared by Al Capone.

The current deal between Han Solo and Al Capone is both simple and complex in some ways.

Al Capone would determine how much wine he wanted and then advertise it in The Sun using coded language. Once Han Solo saw the advertisement, he would transport the wine to a secret warehouse prepared by Al Capone and take the "offering" from the safe inside, and so on.

The secret vault can only be opened by Han Solo and Al Capone themselves, ensuring the secrecy of the transactions.

Han Solo locked the warehouse door, turned and left silently, inwardly lamenting, "Another boring night. Why do I have to live such a miserable life?"

Suddenly, he slowed his pace without making a sound, glancing at the window of a brightly lit grocery store on the roadside. In the dim depths of the glass, a blurry figure was reflected, closely following behind him.

Excitement surged through Han Solo's blood. He sneered, quickened his pace, and darted into the crowded intersection ahead like a cunning rabbit.

Surrounded by the crowd, "Han Solo" dodged left and right, and soon disappeared.

A short while later, a burly tracker caught up, stomped his foot at the bustling street corner, spat on the ground, and turned away in frustration.

Han Solo quietly slipped out of the shadows and followed closely behind.

The tracker was somewhat alert, occasionally glancing back.

But Han Solo skillfully used all the shadows and obstacles as cover, following behind like a ghost tamed by the night.

Leaving the southern part of the city and continuing south, the trackers eventually stopped at a factory area on the outskirts of the city.

Han Solo no longer approached, but gazed into the distance.

The stalker knocked on the door and entered the factory area.

The unmistakable smell of alcohol in the air quickly identified Han Solo as the target: "This is the Italians' bootlegging workshop!"

After a moment's thought, Han Solo denied that Al Capone had ordered someone to follow him.

Because Al Capone had clearly accepted Canadian-made bootlegging and no longer needed a bootlegging facility.

Moreover, he believed that Al Capone's awe of him had not faded so quickly—for example, another superstitious chosen one.

"So, someone in the Mafia noticed my existence so quickly? That's impressive."

"Hmm, this isn't what I need to deal with. It's time to bring out the chosen one for a spin."

"Alcapon, my chosen one, how will you deal with this?"

"expect!"

……

(End of this chapter)