America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 102 The Cowardly Lizard

Time quickly passed and evening arrived.

Zhang Ailun provided each of the newly recruited Beggars' Sect henchmen with a new set of clothes and shoes, washed their faces, updated their equipment, and gave them a meal. At least they looked cleaner and more presentable.

Back at the camp, after a brief greeting to Simone and the others who had also returned, he drove his pickup truck swiftly towards the Irishmen's sewer stronghold.

Upon arriving at the destination, from a distance, one could see oil drums burning with bonfires, and several Europeans with brightly colored hair and strange clothes gathered together, men and women, smoking tobacco, drinking Budweiser, singing and dancing.

"You like dancing so much? Don't stop until we tell you to."

Zhang Ailun glanced at it, put on his DG sunglasses, and put a piece of chewing gum in his mouth.

"Guys, get off the bus! Time to get to work!!"

A group of people aggressively got out of the pickup truck and walked directly towards the crowd.

Many Europeans noticed the uninvited guests and gathered together. "Hey! What are you doing here? Don't you know this is our territory?"

A white man with a mohawk and full of tattoos stood up, grumbling and clearly unhappy.

"Shut up, all of you! Be quiet! Listen to our boss!!"

Sig didn't hold back either. He pulled out a submachine gun from his tactical chest pack, cocked it with two quick clicks, and pointed the dark muzzle at them.

The group was stunned by their tough attitude.

Who is this guy?

Why did you pull out a gun right away?

Don't you have any sense of martial ethics?!

The mice instantly became docile, transforming into cowardly lizards, trying to reason with them: "Gentlemen, we can talk things out; there's no need for conflict!"

But how could Zhang Ailun and his group possibly reason with them?

I've already pulled out my gun and you're asking me to reason with you? Why didn't you reason with people when you were beating them and stealing their things?

Sieg pointed at the bewildered mohawk-haired man holding the bottle, "Put the bottle down! Do you want to test whether your bottle is harder or my bullet is harder? Kneel down! Hands behind your head!!"

The mohawk-wearing man felt a chill run down his spine, obediently knelt down, placed the bottle on the ground, and raised his hands high.

"Okay! I've let it go. Who exactly are you people? We're just honest, hardworking scavengers who earn our living through honest labor. We're good citizens of Los Angeles! We haven't messed with any of your gang members! We know the rules!"

"Of course you know the rules, but knowing the rules doesn't necessarily mean you'll follow them."

Zhang Ailun walked out from behind the crowd with his hands in his pockets. Everyone saw him wearing DG sunglasses and chewing gum late at night, looking like a typical Asian with a high-class image.

"Excuse me, who are you? What have we done to offend you?" he asked cautiously.

"My name is Humbert Juan King! I'm from Lorry Louis XIX. I think you've all heard of me to some extent. I'm here to resolve an economic dispute, of course."

Zhang Ailun politely spat his chewing gum into the trash can, then pointed at the mohawk-haired man's nose and cursed, "You sons of bitches, how dare you come to our territory to smash, loot, and burn! You not only injured our people but also damaged my car! Don't you think you're putting me in the slightest?!"

"If you really have no eyesight, then gouge your eyeballs out and smash them on the ground; at least you'll hear a sound!"

The people around him cooperated by pulling out folding knives and brandishing baseball bats, glaring menacingly.

The man with the mohawk was terrified. He knelt on the ground, trembling like a leaf, sweating profusely, and barely daring to breathe.

"Isn't Lori Louis 19 that black cripple's territory?" The other Irish members looked at each other, wondering if you had overstepped your bounds and replaced him.

"I heard that an Asian person recently joined the team. He has a very fiery temper and is also very good at fighting."

The group was at a loss, feeling that they had suffered an undeserved disaster. It was done by a very small number of people, not all of them.

The mohawk-haired man was also a bit annoyed. He had only wanted to take advantage of the chaos to get revenge on little Lori and make a quick buck, but he never expected that even stealing a can would backfire so badly.

As a homeless person, instead of doing your job properly, you're trying to emulate gangs by buying guns and bullets. What are you trying to do?

Why don't you just say you're part of a gang, switch careers to selling leafy greens and cocoa, open a strip club, bar, or arcade, and maybe even do some smuggling on the side? Wouldn't that make you more money?

You're using your big fists and deadly weapons to steal cans and treasure chests from us homeless people. You're cheating! You're disrupting the market economy!

The Irish members had no one to confide in.

Our equipment inventory mainly consists of baseball bats, fruit knives, and maybe a BB gun to scare people, but we don't dare to take it out in public.

The other side has brought out their real weapons, what's the point of fighting now! This is clearly a case of being outmatched!

Surrender! As long as I surrender quickly, the other side won't beat me up! They'll only beat up my teammates.

"Okay, okay! You're the boss! We surrender!!"

The Europeans promptly backed down and called out their own leaders.

The Irish leader was also in a daze. He had just come out with two pretty girls in bikinis to see what was going on, but when he saw this scene, he was a little intimidated and immediately lost his joy.

Why would I rub these little grapes?!

He immediately pushed the young model aside, smiled apologetically, and took out a box of premium cigarettes and a lighter. Knowing a thing or two about street etiquette, he asked, "Mr. Jin, do you smoke?"

"I'm the leader of the Irish, you can call me Jon. We were definitely in the wrong. Don't be angry, we can resolve this peacefully! Who the hell did it?" Jon turned and cursed at the crowd, trying to clear his name and protect himself, but his tricks were completely ineffective.

The people present weren't fools; they could be easily fooled by him with just a few words.

"Is there one of you called Mad Dog? Famous? A really good fighter?"

Zhang Ailun ignored the cigarette offered to him and asked expressionlessly, feigning ignorance as he looked around, "Where's that mad dog?"

"Mr. Jin, I'm kneeling on the ground."

He was sweating profusely from his mohawk.

"You used to be so arrogant!!" Zhang Ailun's face darkened.

"I was wrong. Please, please don't hurt me," the mohawk-haired man cried, his face contorted with grief.

"Mr. Kim, you can't hit us now that you've hit him. He did it all, and we'll compensate you for all your losses!" Jon, the Irish leader, had also turned into a cowardly lizard.

He had the guts to do it but not the courage to admit it; he betrayed his good brother.

In this world, brothers are meant to be sold, aren't they?

What else can we do? Do you expect me, the boss, to take the blame and get shot for you?

Sacrificing yourself to save everyone else, why are you so selfish as not to make the sacrifice yourself?

What a clever move of moral blackmail!

Zhang Ailun was also shocked by the other party's shamelessness. So this is what brotherhood is all about.

"Mr. Jin, we'll cover all your losses. If you're still not satisfied, my sister and I can come and keep you company for a few days. They're both famous models from East Ukraine!"

Jon, with a fawning expression, casually slapped his backside and said, "Hurry up and call for help!!"

"Mr. Jin."

The two pretty girls from East Ukraine exchanged a glance, then, with a mixture of helplessness and keen observation, circled around Zhang Ailun.

Charging someone with the ball.

Who said they were tough?! They were about to start a war. But then they were so sincere, they slid down to their knees and begged for mercy.

Since that was the case, Zhang Ailun couldn't continue beating the other party and directly made his demands: "From now on, your territory is ours. You can no longer occupy the can recycling machines on the street. Go find somewhere else to make a living. I don't care where you go, but you are not allowed to come back to Fifth Street! It's not that the Los Angeles police won't allow it, it's that I, Juan Jin, won't allow it!!"

(End of this chapter)