America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 103 Revealing the Truth

"Mr. King, please give us a way out! We can't leave Poor Street! We finally settled down here and have a stable life. If we leave, we'll definitely be homeless again." Jon immediately started playing the victim.

The other Europeans also chimed in, playing the victim and resorting to moral blackmail: "Yes, the streets don't belong to one person, they belong to everyone! You can't use your own selfish desires to persecute others by any means necessary! That's immoral! We can report you for illegally possessing a gun!"

"Go ahead and shoot if you dare! I want to see if you still want to live peacefully on the streets! The police might not care if one person dies, but so many people dying! The police absolutely cannot let this go unpunished!"

"Mad dog! Don't move, just kneel there and let him shoot!!"

It seems that some people are naturally tough. They remain silent from the beginning, with their interests untouched, until their bottom line is crossed, at which point they transform into angry brats and roar.

Others also joined in the commotion, smashing their bottles in protest.

Sig and the others were also surprised that they had suddenly become so assertive.

The mohawk-haired man instantly flew into a rage, breaking down on the spot and turning around to yell, "Can you all shut up! Do you think I'm made of iron? I'm the one with the gun pointed at me, not you! Don't shoot! Please don't shoot!!"

"I see now, you're a coward too. They were never going to let us go! They've come to our doorstep, do you think compensation is enough? We might as well fight them! There are so many of us, do you really think they'd dare to shoot and kill us?" Brother Hong Wen continued to roar angrily, indignant.

"Are you out of your mind?! What if they really dare? Don't you have a brain? If you're so capable, come here and kneel down and see what happens!" The mohawk-haired man cursed, "You son of a bitch, do you even eat fried dough?"

It's easy for you to talk when you're not the one suffering, isn't it?

They started fighting amongst themselves.

"Where is this guy from?" Zhang Ailun asked, looking at the reddish-brown boy whose skin color seemed out of place.

No wonder he was so energetic, turns out he'd smoked too many leaves! He couldn't tell the difference between the big and small kings anymore.

"I am American!!"

"He's Turkish!!" The mohawk-haired man, pushed to his limit, finally exposed his clumsy lie. "You dare call yourself an American? What are you good for here? Washing dishes? Digging foundations? Or going to the hospital to be a guinea pig for drug trials? If I hadn't been kind enough to bring you back, give you food, a bed, and even money to hire drug addicts on the street, you'd be dead on the streets by now! You Turks are so ungrateful!!"

"Fxxkyou! You racist bastard!!"

The two started fighting.

"Alright! Stop fighting!!" Zhang Ailun was also a little confused about their train of thought. Let's get down to business. What do you mean by fighting your own people? Do you think I won't demand compensation this way?

No! I will only demand more.

"This is between the two of us! Don't interfere!" the young man with red hair cursed.

"Buddy, looks like you've gotten used to living a good life." Zhang Ailun was also annoyed by his mindless biting behavior. He pushed aside the two beautiful girls from Dongwu next to him, walked over, and slapped him across the face with a big slap. The boy was completely stunned.

"You want to provoke me? Fine! I'll grant your wish! I'll pack you up and send you back to romantic Türkiye right now! Then I'll chop you up and transfer you to Paris."

Zhang Ailun rolled up his sleeves, grabbed his collar, and slapped him twice more, causing his nose to bleed profusely. The man's eyes rolled back, and he immediately became obedient.

He then looked at the trembling, bruised, and swollen mohawk-haired man beside him, "You hit my man, smashed my car, and you still think you're right! I'll follow the rules of the street; I didn't open your organ boxes, chopping off your hands and feet is enough! How dare you expect me to forgive you?"

"We didn't mean to," the mohawk-haired man admitted.

"We did it on purpose, so what can you do about it? What are you pretending for?" The stubborn young man from Hongwen was stubborn his whole life.

"Fuck your mother, you idiot."

Zhang Ailun, speaking fluent and beautiful classical Chinese poetry, kicked him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

"Is this guy out of his mind?" Sig and the others were speechless.

Why are you so stubborn? You're the one who should be called a mad dog.

"Mr. Kim, we can talk this over! You don't need to bother with a madman who's had a fit of rage." Jon was sweating profusely, afraid of completely enraging the other party and causing a fight to the death, resulting in everyone present being shot.

In order to quell the unrest, he decided to follow the example of the Qing Dynasty and cede territory and pay reparations.

He immediately jogged back to the sewer where he lived. Although it was called a sewer, it was actually a hidden world inside, more like an underground fortress. He took out a paper bag from inside, which was full of neatly tied banknotes, many of which were stained red.

"This is the money we've recently earned. It's all centrally managed; every time someone uses it, we record the expenditure. It totals $4680, and it's all here! You can also choose a street you like on our property! I guarantee it's a high-quality neighborhood!"

The others' expressions also turned grim; that was the hard-earned money they had worked so hard for!

More importantly, they're even ceding territory! This is utterly disgraceful!

"So many?"

Zhang Ailun was somewhat surprised by their money-making efficiency. He took the bag, grabbed a handful of rolled-up bills, and found them to be very nice to the touch. He then put them back and tossed them to Sig behind him.

"Not enough!!" he said calmly.

Jon's face darkened slightly. "Mr. Kim, we've already given you all our savings. Don't push your luck! We've already ceded territory, paid reparations, and admitted our mistakes. What more do you want from us? We're not unrelated to other gangs!"

"Are you deaf? I'll kick you out of Fifth Street. I'm taking the territory and the money!"

Zhang Ailun looked around and realized that he had already provoked public anger and his emotions had become unstable. If this continued, he would probably really push people to the brink.

Then he said, "Actually, I'm not deliberately bullying or targeting any of you. I understand your difficulties; after all, you're all homeless and just trying to make a living. But what can I do? You have an incompetent leader and some troublemakers who always cause trouble. Your reputations are ruined on the streets! If I let you go today and allow you to continue living here, your leader will definitely hire a gunman to assassinate me one day!"

"I promise I won't!!" Jon quickly assured him.

Your assurances are useless.

Zhang Ailun ignored him and addressed the others, "You really want to continue living here? You even want to keep scavenging cans in the old place? Fine, the rules are simple. This is our territory. You just need to follow my rules. Each of you, list one crime your boss committed and send them all to jail! Only then can I feel at ease!"

"Sig, tell them about the rules of our team." Zhang Ailun turned around and sat on the sofa. The two East Ukrainian models next to him also gave him a massage and opened a bottle of beer.

"Our rules are..." Sieg coughed lightly and succinctly explained to everyone.

It's really nothing, it's just that the Beggars' Sect has good benefits, high pay, low commission, and the leader will smooth things over if anything happens. Just like this time.

Unfortunately, you stood on the opposite side of the Beggars' Sect and became sacrificial cannon fodder.

But if you make the right choice, next time it will be you standing here watching others kneel on the ground.

Everyone was incredulous upon hearing this. "What? Only 20% of the profits? Are you sure you're not joking?"

"Jon takes 60% of our money!! That includes extra food expenses, taxes, shopping tax, and we need to manage our finances in a centralized manner."

"And other valuable items haven't been distributed as dividends yet!"

Everyone began to discuss the matter objectively.

Jon broke out in a cold sweat, instantly realizing that these guys were digging into his past!

He glared at Zhang Ailun with hatred. "Are you even human?! Only taking 20%? Are you doing charity?!"

Keeping young models doesn't cost money? Buying property and licenses doesn't cost money either? As the boss, you can't stay in this lousy place like the sewers forever!

If I don't take more, how am I supposed to get ahead!

(End of this chapter)