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

Li Ang stepped out of the RV.

Jerome's last words lingered in his mind.

"Even though your body is valuable, don't do anything rash!"

He certainly knew what it meant for his body to be valuable.

In this country, a fresh, healthy corpse can be disassembled into countless parts and sold for a good price.

His body is far more "valuable" than that of an ordinary person.

If he dies, homeless people who smell his food might swarm around him, eager to sell him.

Li Ang walked slowly along the street.

He simply walked along, observing the city in its most authentic form.

A drunk man lay on a street corner, clutching a half-empty bottle of whiskey, mumbling incoherently.

Several scantily clad women stood under the streetlights, their numb eyes catching the occasional passing vehicle.

A police car sped past, but ignored it all.

Li Ang suddenly realized that he had been wrong before.

He kept thinking about how to escape from this card table.

Buy a boat ticket, find a smuggler, and do everything you can to return to that hometown you remember.

But he overlooked a very basic problem.

He himself is a priceless chip on this poker table.

Why would a casino easily let go of its most valuable chip?

All the rules are designed to keep the chips on the table.

Whether it's a legal visa or illegal smuggling.

They are all part of this table.

There is only one way to leave.

I flipped the table.

Become the rule-maker.

Li Ang stopped and looked up at the cluster of skyscrapers illuminated by neon lights in the distance.

That's the heart of this card table.

Right now, he's just struggling in the outermost slums.

Since we can't go back.

Then do it your own way.

Using demonic methods.

Just then, the phone rang.

Li Ang answered the phone.

"Li... is in big trouble." It was Victor's tired voice on the other end of the phone.

"What's wrong?" Li Ang asked.

"The Iron Fist Gang had a deal with Marcus before..." Victor paused, "and now things are getting a bit tricky."

"Get to the point." Li Ang's voice was completely flat.

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

"The Iron Fist Gang ordered a shipment from Marcus, worth five million."

"The payment has already been made, but now Marcus is dead, and all his men are gone too."

"The goods, naturally, disappeared as well."

Li Ang listened quietly without interrupting.

"Charlie, the boss of the Iron Fist Gang, is a madman." Victor said urgently, "If he can't find the person to pick up the goods, he's going to wipe out Ninth Street."

Li Ang hung up the phone.

His face was expressionless.

Charlie of the Iron Fist Gang.

He had never heard of it.

But it is not important.

The important thing is, five million worth of goods.

And that madman wants to wipe out the Ninth Block.

His brow furrowed slightly.

Ninth Street is now his territory.

Although it's only in name.

But Derek and Scorpion are there making money for him and gathering men for him.

That was the foundation of his "Demon Sect".

Li Ang turned around and walked towards the safe house.

Back at the apartment.

Mike and Catherine were sitting on the sofa in the living room.

The TV was on, playing a boring soap opera.

But their minds were clearly not on the television.

When Mike saw Li Ang return, he stood up.

"plum."

"Okay." Li Ang nodded and walked straight to the bedroom.

He needs a quiet place.

He closed the door and immediately dialed Derek's number.

"Boss!" Derek's voice was filled with excitement and awe.

"How's Ninth Street doing now?" Li Ang asked.

"Great, excellent!" Derek's voice rose eight octaves. "Boss, you haven't seen it, but those guys now avoid me like the plague!"

"The Scorpion gang is quite honest; they're currently helping us gather up those scattered individuals."

"Very good." Li Ang interrupted his boasting, "I'm asking you, have you ever heard of the Iron Fist Gang, or Charlie?"

Derek on the other end of the phone fell silent instantly.

"Boss...why...why are you asking about them?"

"Speak," Li Ang said, uttering only one word.

"The Iron Fist Gang... is the largest gang in the east of the city, about the same size as... the old Rusty Gang."

"Their leader, Charlie Murphy, is known as Iron Fist Charlie."

"That guy... is an absolute madman, a complete warmonger."

"I heard he used to be a Marine and fought in Iraq. He's a bit mentally unstable."

"He never followed the rules; he only believed in fists and guns."

"No one who crosses him ever ends up well."

"Does he have dealings with Marcus?" Leon asked.

"Yes... a few times," Derek replied. "It was all arms deals. Marcus would get some good stuff through special channels and then sell it to Charlie."

arms.

Li Ang understood.

Five million in weapons.

That's enough to arm a small army.

No wonder Charlie went crazy.

But that doesn't make sense. How could they secretly transport such a huge thing?

Is no one in charge in America?

Li Ang couldn't understand it.

"What's going on in Ninth District right now?"

"There are... a lot of people asking about the whereabouts of a shipment," Derek said. "They're all unfamiliar faces, and they look intimidating; they're probably from the Iron Fist Gang."

"They're asking everywhere if anyone's seen any of Marcus's men."

"I understand," Li Ang said. "Keep an eye on your people and make sure they behave themselves and don't go out."

"Understood, boss!"

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

"How's it going? Any news from your end?" Victor asked anxiously as soon as he answered the phone.

"How much do you know about the Iron Fist Gang?" Li Ang asked in return.

"The Iron Fist Gang?" Victor was taken aback. "How...how did you get involved with them?"

Answer my question.

Victor paused for a moment, seemingly organizing his thoughts.

"Charlie Murphy, a madman, I've dealt with him a few times."

"That guy has a lot of influence, and it's not just on the streets."

"He also had connections with some high-ranking figures."

"He had a group of desperados under his command, all of whom had come down from the battlefield with him."

"Accurate marksmanship, ruthless, a true professional soldier."

"What is the five million worth of goods?" Li Ang asked the most crucial question.

"I don't know," Victor answered bluntly. "Marcus wouldn't tell me about a deal of this magnitude."

"But I guess they're some big ones."

"Some guns and ammunition, etc."

Li Ang narrowed his eyes.

Things were more complicated than he had imagined.

"Marcus is dead, and so are all his men," Leon said. "Nobody knows where the goods are."

"Yes! That's the worst part!" Victor wailed. "That madman Charlie doesn't care about any of this!"

"He only cares that his five million has gone down the drain, and he wants to find someone to vent his anger on!"

"And Ninth Street was the last place Marcus was seen!"

"He'll turn the place upside down, kill everyone, until he finds his goods, or finds a scapegoat that satisfies him!"

"Lee, you should run!" Victor said. "Get out of Seattle, the farther the better!"