Becoming an Emperor Starting from the World of The Wandering Earth

Although Giles' analysis was terrible, his words calmed Holt down.

Although he was a bit reckless, he was not stupid at all. After all, in this world, stupid people are long gone.

"Gals, tell your men to be on high alert for the time being. No matter who it is, this can't be left like this. Do you understand what I mean?"

Giles paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Got it, boss! We have to fight, whether we have a target or not. Otherwise, other gangs will think M-13 is a coward, and any Tom, Dick, or Harry will dare to come and kick us while we're down."

That's how gangs are; they can be robbed, their territory can be seized, but they absolutely cannot remain indifferent.

If you remain silent, other gangs will see you as a coward and weak.

Then the pack of jackals will swarm around and try to take a bite.

So whether or not he finds his target, Holt now has to make a big splash.

"Yes." Holt leaned back and tapped his fingers on the table. "Now you have two things to do for me."

"First, go buy me more weapons. I don't care who the other side is. If they dare to come again, beat them to death."

"Got it, boss. I happen to know a way. There's a broker on the black market who recently got a batch of stuff from somewhere. I've seen those things; not only is the quantity large, but they're also cheap. What do you think…?"

Holt's eyes lit up upon hearing this.

Is it reliable?

"No problem, boss. Besides, there are rumors in the underworld that that guy has connections and supposedly has military backing. He has everything, from short guns to long guns, and even machine guns. The prices are 20% lower than the market price. As long as the credits are credited to your account, you can pick up the goods."

Holt remained silent for a few seconds.

For some reason, Giles had a question nagging at him as soon as he finished speaking.

Why does it feel like there's something wrong with this?

Several of my gang's strongholds were recently raided, and now a broker has emerged on the black market selling firearms.

However, Giles had been with him for seven or eight years and was considered loyal, so he probably wouldn't deceive him.

Suppressing his slight concerns, Holt spoke again, "Alright, then I'll leave this matter to you. Contact that broker and have him come over for a meeting."

"Yes, boss."

Giles turned to leave, but Holt called him back.

"The second thing is to spread the word that I, Holt, will give 100,000 credits. If anyone finds out who dares to make a move against our 13th Gang, just tell me and the money is theirs."

The next day, in an inconspicuous house in Houston, Holt was sitting opposite a tall man, with Giles standing beside him.

"You're Price? I heard you have quite a bit of stock?" Holt didn't bother beating around the bush and went straight to the point.

"Of course, Mr. Holt."

The man called Price smiled and nodded, then took a tablet out of his jacket pocket, placed it on the table, and pushed it over.

"The list, quantities, and prices are all on it."

Holt picked up the tablet and swiped his finger across the screen a few times.

A moment later, he raised his head and gave a disdainful snort.

"I thought it was something valuable, an HK416? That's an antique from forty years ago. Who would want it now?"

Holt's words were rather harsh, but Price's expression remained largely unchanged.

"Mr. Holt, a bullet fired from a child's hand is just as deadly as one fired from an adult's. The HK416 may not be the latest model, but it's sturdy, durable, has a low failure rate, and its ammunition is readily available."

"Furthermore, I've heard that your gang has recently encountered some... trouble."

Upon hearing this, Holt's expression darkened for a moment.

This is the thing he hates to hear the most right now.

But Price didn't stop there, continuing, "Although the weapons are a bit old, I can provide a thousand of them, along with a basic load of bullets, and at a price 20% lower than the market price. What do you say, Mr. Holt?"

A thousand.

Although the specific number had already been seen on the tablet, hearing it from Price's mouth now had a completely different impact.

Many people believe that the world of The Wandering Earth is in turmoil, and given the prevalence of guns in the United States, there should be no shortage of firearms. However, this idea is wrong.

The United States does indeed have a gun problem. According to official statistics, the total number of civilian guns is approximately 3.93 million to 5 million, which is 1.2 to 1.5 guns per person.

However, most of these guns were semi-automatic or pistols, with very few fully automatic firearms.

Moreover, with centralized global regulations in place, the total number of firearms on the market has not increased significantly.

This can be seen in some scenes from The Wandering Earth 1 and The Wandering Earth 2.

Gangs of their size, like the 13th Gang, naturally have their own methods and even their own underground factories, capable of producing counterfeit firearms.

However, production efficiency has remained stagnant.

Moreover, handmade items have a high probability of error; a gun will break down after firing a few hundred rounds.

Therefore, fully automatic firearms have always been scarce for the 13th gang, or rather for all gangs.

This is evident from the fact that even Wallis, who previously controlled a block, couldn't provide all his men with the necessary equipment.

Now, this broker named Price in front of me is asking for a thousand.

To be honest, Holt was indeed tempted.

However, he didn't speak immediately, but instead quickly considered things in his mind.

The core members that the 13 gang could openly and covertly mobilize in Houston numbered less than four hundred at most.

Don't be fooled by the seemingly small number; these four hundred people are all veterans who have actually seen bloodshed, and many of them are retired soldiers.

There were over a thousand thugs on the periphery who were just there to make up the numbers.

But those people are only good at bullying ordinary people; when they really run into a tough opponent, they run away faster than anyone else.

These thousand HK416s are enough to equip all his capable brothers with new gear, and there are still more than half left to stockpile in the warehouse as reserves.

With this batch of goods, not only can we hold onto our current market share, but we could also expand to the north by two more districts and confront those rats from the Crippled Gang head-on.

Thinking to himself, Holt looked up and re-examined the man named Price in front of him.

He had a buzz cut, wore a dark gray jacket, sat upright, and had little expression on his face.

Holt had seen that kind of temperament before; it was exactly the same as the veterans in his gang.

But the difference is that this guy in front of me has a stronger presence; he looks like someone who has spent a long time in the military.

"Mr. Price," Holt placed the tablet back on the table and leaned back, "what price are you asking for this shipment?"

Price stretched out his right hand and waved it.

"Nine hundred thousand."

Holt's brow twitched upon hearing this.