What the hell is the "kill line" when you're in America?

"Why didn't you call the police for a street shooting like this?" Li Ang asked suddenly as he put the gun back in its case.

"What?" Victor thought he had misheard.

"I said, why didn't you call the police?" Li Ang repeated, "Someone shot and killed someone in the street, and the police didn't do anything?"

Victor was stunned for a full three seconds.

Then, as if he had heard the funniest joke of the century, he burst into laughter.

He laughed so hard he almost fell over, and tears were welling up in his eyes.

"Police?" He pointed to his nose, then to the desolate quarry around him. "You're asking me about police?"

"My friend, which heaven did you fall from?"

Li Ang looked at him expressionlessly.

Victor finally stopped laughing, but his face still wore a strong sense of sarcasm.

"I'll tell you what the police are."

"The police here are only responsible for covering the bodies with white sheets and writing a report that it was a gang shootout or a gunfight," Victor gestured with his hands. "As long as we're not stupid enough to open fire in front of City Hall, nobody cares about the lives of us maggots."

"They'll just wait until we scum have killed each other, then come and collect the bodies, and maybe even make some extra money off the corpses."

Li Ang listened quietly.

He had already guessed roughly what was going on.

Hearing it from Victor, an "insider," only convinced him that the rules of this land were rotten to the core.

"Let's talk about Marcus," Leon said, changing the subject.

Victor dropped the mockery on his face and became serious.

"Street wolves, a medium-sized gang with about forty or fifty members, based in the ninth block."

"The leader, Marcus, is ruthless and makes a living mainly from drugs and loan sharking."

"Their headquarters was an underground bar called Den of Jackals in the ninth block, which was also their drug distribution point."

"How's the security?"

"There are always four or five men guarding the bar entrance, all of them his henchmen, and they usually carry knives," Victor recalled. "As for guns... they have them, but they don't show them easily unless it's a gang war."

Li Ang closed the gun case.

Do you have a floor plan or interior photos of the bar?

"No," Victor shook his head. "Nobody dares to bring their phone in to take pictures in a place like that, unless they want to be thrown into the sea to be fed to shrimp."

"I understand." Li Ang picked up the gun case. "That's all for today."

"So what are you planning to do?" Victor asked. "You're going to rush in alone?"

Li Ang glanced at him but did not answer.

He turned and walked toward the Dodge he had "borrowed".

Victor watched his retreating figure, opened his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately didn't ask any more questions.

......

Li Ang drove through the city.

He did not go straight back to the safe house.

He first dialed Jerome's number.

"Li?" Jerome's tired voice came from the other end of the phone.

"It's me. Help me find out something."

"you say."

"Tell me everything you know about the street jackals of Ninth Block and their boss, Marcus."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

"Dude, you've messed with them?"

"They're the ones who messed with me," Li Ang replied, exactly the same thing he had said to Victor before.

"...Okay, I'll go find out right away and let you know as soon as I have any news."

After hanging up, Li Ang dialed Derek's number again.

"Boss!" Derek's fawning voice immediately rang out.

"I need you to do something."

"What are your orders?"

"You should know a fat guy named Marcus in Ninth Street."

"Marcus?" Derek gasped. "Boss, that guy's a madman!"

"I need to know how many of his subordinates get their goods from you, or from your downstream suppliers."

"I need all their names, addresses, and their usual routines."

"Boss, this..." Derek's voice was trembling.

"It's all taken care of. I'll give you double the price for the next order."

"......make a deal!"

Li Ang hung up the phone and put it in his pocket.

A preliminary intelligence network is slowly unfolding.

He returned to the apartment building on the 14th block.

He didn't go upstairs immediately, but sat quietly in the car for half an hour.

He disassembled the newly acquired Beretta pistol and then reassembled it.

Once, twice, three times...

Until he became familiar with every single part of the gun.

Then, he carried the ordinary sports backpack containing the gun upstairs.

Catherine was asleep on the sofa, covered with a coat.

Mike was still awake and sitting to the side.

Catherine woke up with a start when she heard the door open.

When she saw Li Ang, a look of relief appeared in her eyes.

Li Ang walked up to Mike and squatted down.

"Mike, do you want revenge?" Li Ang asked.

Mike glanced at Li Ang, his lips moved but he didn't speak.

"They want to kill you," Li Ang said calmly. "Don't you want to kill them?"

"I..." Mike's voice was terribly hoarse, "I don't want to kill anyone."

"So you want to be killed?"

Mike fell silent.

Li Ang stood up and stopped looking at him.

"Stay here, don't go anywhere."

He said something to Catherine, then went into the bedroom and closed the door.

He needs rest.

It's not physical, but mental.

He leaned against the bed, placed the cold Beretta on his pillow, and closed his eyes.

Night was falling.

When Li Ang opened his eyes again, it was already midnight.

I received several new messages on my phone.

From Jerome, there were some street rumors about Marcus, including how many mistresses he had and which casinos he liked to go to.

Derek's list contained seven names, all members of the Street Jackals gang and also clients of "Blissful Dan".

The list also included their general area of ​​activity and several of their usual hideouts.

Li Ang wrote down all this information.

He changed into a black tracksuit, tucked his Beretta pistol into his waistband, and took three spare magazines with him.

He opened the bedroom door; the living room was completely dark.

Catherine and Mike were both asleep.

Li Ang left quietly without alerting them.

Li Ang's figure quickly disappeared into the night in the Ninth Street area.

Groups of drunkards and drug addicts wandered the streets.

Based on the information provided by Derek, Li Ang quickly located the "Den of Jackals" underground bar.

The entrance is well hidden, tucked behind an abandoned convenience store.

Two men wearing gang vests and showing off their tattoos leaned against the doorway, smoking.

They warily sized up everyone who approached.

Li Ang did not approach.

He went around to the alley behind the bar.

The place was piled high with empty bottles and trash, and a drunk homeless man was fast asleep in the garbage heap.

The bar's back door was locked, and there was a small window next to it that was sealed with iron bars.

Li Ang observed his surroundings.

He saw the fire escape leading to the rooftop, the apartment building across the street, and the flickering streetlight at the alley entrance.

A preliminary plan quickly took shape in his mind.

He didn't rush to take action.

He then went to several other addresses provided by Derek.

Those were dilapidated apartments or abandoned warehouses, places where gang members used to do drugs or hide stolen goods.

He was like a patient hunter, carefully surveying every location.

He noted down all the entrances and exits, the viewpoints, and possible ambush locations.

He wanted to make sure that there wouldn't be any unexpected problems when he took action himself.