Becoming an Emperor Starting from the World of The Wandering Earth

Meanwhile, inside the warehouse.

An iron stove made from an oil drum was belching out thick black smoke, flames licking the rim of the drum, while a dozen M-13 members were drinking heartily and boasting about their day's achievements.

"Damn it, do you guys know how much I robbed today?"

Then a man with a scar on his face grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey and gulped it down.

"I guess I got lucky today. I just got to that lousy gas station on Fifth Avenue, waited there for half an hour, and caught some coward. I easily got eight hundred dollars from him!"

As he spoke, the man pulled a wad of banknotes from his pocket, waved it, and then stuffed it into his coat.

"Damn, Barney, you're this happy about eight hundred dollars? Who uses this stuff these days?"

"Take those few scraps of paper to the ration station in the South District and see if those uniformed people will accept them."

Just as Barney finished showing off his day's haul, a limping old man next to him spoke up disdainfully, looking at him like he was a distant cousin with intellectual disabilities.

"This stuff is so uncomfortable you wouldn't even want to wipe your butt with it; ration coupons would be much better."

The next second, bursts of wild laughter erupted from all around.

Clearly, everyone thought Barney was a fool for stealing some dollars that nobody wanted and being so happy about it.

But that's the truth. After all, although none of the people present had much education, they knew that nobody wanted US dollars. The current hard currency was ration coupons and credit points.

"Harris, what do you mean?"

Hearing the laughter of his companions around him, Barney roared in shame and anger.

"You're bad at the game, and you won't admit it."

Harris then proudly held up three fingers.

"Do you know what I did today? Today I had a bloody fight with those rats from the crippled gang next door."

"There were seventeen of them on the other side, and nine of us. I took down four of them all by myself. And I'm completely fine, not a scratch."

Harris repeated it again, pointing to his chest.

"You fucking..." Barney's Adam's apple bobbed several times. "You just wait, Harris! Tomorrow, I'll take over that street across the street."

"Wow, that's amazing!"

Laughter erupted again.

"Alright, alright, at least Barney has achieved some results. You guys need to keep up the good work. Remember to go out and explore more tomorrow. Those poor bastards, you can still squeeze some oil out of them if you work hard enough."

Just then, Wallis, the eldest brother sitting in the main seat, spoke up to smooth things over.

Barney may look a bit dim-witted, but he was someone Barney personally picked up from the entrance of the Houston North Shelter years ago.

They're brave and daring, but they're inflexible.

As for Harris, he fled from Delta City last year and was wanted for allegedly killing a UEG employee.

So, both morally and logically, he has to help.

Now that the leader had spoken, everyone shut up and began to boast about their own achievements.

Looking at his subordinate in front of him, Wallis couldn't help but stroke his chin.

Speaking of the 13th Gang, it was actually a large gang in Murphy's previous life.

It originated in the 1970s and 1980s.

He managed to establish himself in Los Angeles through ruthlessness.

At its peak, they were said to be spread across dozens of states in the United States, numbering in the tens of thousands, and involved in all sorts of shady businesses.

Even Trump himself spoke out, classifying it as a transnational criminal organization and calling for a full-scale crackdown.

As for the result, it was all bark and no bite, of course.

This group of people is deeply entrenched, like weeds in the wild, impossible to burn out, they grow back with the spring breeze.

Moreover, although they are said to be a group, they are actually just using the same name, and there is no hierarchy between the cities.

However, in the world of The Wandering Earth, the situation becomes extremely chaotic due to the solar helium flash crisis and wartime policies.

Chaos is a ladder, and that's absolutely true.

For the 13 gangs, this chaotic situation was a golden age that came once in a lifetime.

Previously, they had to secretly play hide-and-seek with the authorities and scheme against other gangs.

Now, there are fewer and fewer police officers patrolling the streets, and UEG is only focused on the planetary engines and important facilities, so they don't care who in the neighborhood has stolen whose last compressed biscuit.

The M-13 then began to expand rapidly.

They continuously recruit homeless people who have nowhere else to turn, former white-collar workers who have been laid off, and veterans who are dissatisfied with UEG.

Weapons are easy to obtain; although the prices of firearms on the black market change daily, there are always channels available.

Wallis was one of those who rose to prominence during this wave of expansion.

Don't let his low rank fool you; he's just a small-time member of the gang, Paro. Above him are captains, leaders, and spokespeople.

But the 13 Gang is ultimately a loose organization. Apart from the leaders of each city who can somewhat manage the gang members in their respective areas, they are basically out of control above them.

Moreover, Wallis had quite a few men under his command, twenty or thirty of whom were equipped with repeating rifles, and the rest also carried pistols.

It's enough to scare ordinary people and fight with other small gangs.

But Wallis always had a greater goal in his heart.

Five years have passed since he conquered this abandoned industrial area, and his territory has not expanded since.

That shantytown to the east is the territory of the crippled gang.

Those Mexicans are incredibly close-knit, and they're really willing to risk their lives.

They'd fight you to the death just to protect a black market trading point.

The ruins to the south, near the old slaughterhouse, were occupied by a group of vagrant thugs who called themselves freemen.

There weren't many of them, but they appeared and disappeared like ghosts, grabbing things and running away without any fixed base.

He wanted to fight but couldn't.

The western dock area was a den of dock rats.

Those guys are even more ruthless and vicious; they specialize in robbing transport ships and warehouses, and I heard they even dare to touch UEG's supply ships.

It is said that he also has a close relationship with a broker in the black market, and can even get his hands on heavy weaponry.

However, I heard that recently in the north, a guy named M-9 somehow got into trouble with the public security forces, and even his boss was shot dead.

Now, several low-level henchmen are vying for a position.

"Perhaps we can take this opportunity to expand further north."

Wallis unconsciously licked his lips, already pondering what to do next.

Now he plans to take control of the abandoned railway line behind the cold chain warehouse.

Although the area is desolate, small smuggling convoys often pass through it at night.

As long as it's under control, it doesn't matter whether it's collecting tolls or directly exchanging crimes.

Then head south and retrieve the two relief station control areas that M-13 lost.

Although relief stations don't offer much profit, they can attract people.

Those homeless people who were about to starve to death were willing to do anything as long as there was food.

Once we have the people, the next step is to figure out how to get the real, high-quality goods.

He heard that some people had already been equipped with machine guns and even rocket launchers that had flowed in from the black market in Eastern Europe.

The gang still has plenty of resources right now. Once we get a few, taking over the surrounding cities will be a piece of cake.