America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 32 Bloodshed in the Streets

Zhang Ailun glanced at the broken baseball bat and his heart skipped a beat.

What kind of quality is this?!

$6!! My $6!!

No!! Wardfa!!

"Hey! Hey!! Stop it!!"

The black men standing nearby were terrified to see Zhang Ailun so enraged, with veins bulging on his arms, on the verge of exploding.

I want to start reasoning with people.

Zhang Ailun, who was in a fit of anger, was being unreasonable!

With a single kick, Lao Hei was sent flying at least three meters away, his back slamming hard against the trash can. He lay on the ground, clutching his chest, unable to utter a sound.

A weak, feeble sound came from his throat, like a leaky bellows.

My eyes were wide open, and I felt pain and discomfort all over my body, as if I was about to die.

The two black men next to them were terrified.

"Give me back my friend's money! Don't ever come to this street again. This street is mine!! If I ever see you again, I'll crush your balls!! Cut them off and feed them to your mothers. Understand?"

Zhang Ailun grabbed Lao Hei by the collar, showing no mercy, and lashed out with two large slaps, yelling, "Did you fucking understand?! Did you understand? Did you understand? Did you understand... did you understand?"

Old Hei's skin turned a dark reddish-black, his nose started bleeding profusely, and blood began to flow from his mouth.

Half of his face swelled up like a pig's head at a visible speed, his expression one of terror, his eyes seeing stars, and he immediately wet his pants. When he opened his mouth, two broken teeth mixed with blood and foam spurted out.

He immediately knelt on the ground, raised his hands high, and shouted, "OK! OK!!"

He knelt on the ground and hurriedly rummaged through his pockets, then shakily placed the money on the ground: 5, 10, and 25-cent coins, and crumpled 1- and 5-dollar bills.

They even searched their companion's pockets, taking out a large sum of money in small amounts.

It adds up to at least $100.

Great, the little black guys have gotten tons of gold coins.

Old Black, who had a limp, stopped howling at this point, because he had started convulsing and foaming at the mouth, his whole body drenched in sweat, emitting unconscious groans of pain.

Zhang Ailun immediately began humanitarian aid to them.

He rode on it and smacked his big face a few times with his big slingshot.

"Fxxk you! You nigger! Wake up! It's time to get up and pick cotton!!"

Hearing the ancient call etched into his genes, Old Black opened his eyes listlessly, gradually regaining consciousness, his face swollen.

Zhang Ailun grabbed Kobe by the collar and gave him a few hard slaps. Kobe slowly woke up, his mouth agape and drooling, unable to speak.

It looks like a fractured jawbone. It's nothing serious, just need to rest and recover.

Zhang Ailun was so afraid of killing him that he didn't dare to use force even though he was wearing gloves.

"Okay, they're fine now. You lot, get out of my territory!"

While Zhang Ailun marveled at himself for being a reincarnation of Hua Tuo (a legendary Chinese physician), he berated and cursed at the group of black men.

"Remember my name, I'm Humbert Juan King. Tell everyone else this is my territory, this is Lori Louis XIX's territory. From now on, no other homeless person should trespass on my property!! Otherwise, I'll make sure they bleed in the streets!!"

The old black men were timid and hesitant, barely daring to breathe, and they forced themselves to help their companions walk outside.

My legs were trembling as I passed by Zhang Ailun, afraid that he might throw another punch at someone!

After all, this person is really ruthless.

In the blink of an eye, several black men had their kneecaps shattered, and they'd be unlikely to be able to walk on their own for the rest of their lives.

His chin was shattered, his front teeth were broken, and he was disfigured.

One of his sternums is slightly collapsed, several bones are broken, and it's unknown whether there are any internal injuries. Even if he recovers, his cardiopulmonary function will definitely be affected for the rest of his life.

Call the police?

When the police arrive, they'll probably be the first ones arrested, like they're being delivered to someone's door.

After all, they've committed many crimes in their daily lives; buying things for free is a minor matter, and they also frequently rape others.

This is what it's like to survive on the streets.

If you bully others, you should also be prepared to be bullied in return; being beaten to death or injured is a very normal thing.

Might makes right.

The elderly white man stared at the scene in shock, still immersed in the awe, as if he were dreaming.

Zhang Ailun picked up the money, counted it carefully, and found that it totaled $135. He then asked the other person, "How much money did they rob you of?"

"$50... no, only $15." The old man stared longingly at the huge sum of money, instinctively wanting to lie, but quickly snapped out of his daze and answered truthfully.

Zhang Ailun withdrew his piercing gaze and smiled. "Very good, consider this extra $5 a reward for your honesty."

He took out some loose coins and bills, making up $20, and handed it to the other person. He put the remaining large bills into his pocket.

"What's your name?"

"Mr. Leo," the homeless man Leo answered honestly, "thank you for helping me. Without your help, I can't imagine what kind of humiliation I would have suffered! Not long ago, a friend of mine died of anal fissures."

"You're welcome, Leo. Do you hang out on this street often?" Zhang Ailun asked.

"I'm just passing by and want to collect some cans to sell for money. I don't usually have a fixed place to stay because I don't dare to stay in one place for long. The place I go to most often is the shelter. I'm a bit old and I wander the streets alone. I don't belong to any group," Leo replied.

"Okay, then you must know a lot of lone scavengers around here, right?" Zhang Ailun asked again.

"I do know a lot of people," Leo nodded, "but most of them have a very difficult life and are often bullied."

"What's the most money you've ever earned by collecting cans? Is it enough to support yourself?" Zhang Ailun asked.

"How is that possible? I can only barely survive on relief funds and shopping vouchers. If the shopping vouchers weren't real-name cards, almost everyone would have them, and they would all be stolen and fraudulently used by others. Every second half of the month, I don't know how I would survive."

Leo gave a wry smile: "I can only earn $15-20 a day collecting cans, and the most I've ever earned is $40. I was lucky, though. On rainy days, no one else comes out to collect cans, so I risk getting sick to collect a lot. Sometimes people even steal them. I've been living in the slums for 12 years, and I just turned 45 yesterday."

"..."

You look older than your age.

With gray hair, a messy beard, and missing front teeth, he looked almost like old Karl in his seventies. I would believe you if you said your lower body was already buried in the ground.

Zhang Ailun didn't bother to criticize the other person's appearance; it was already quite remarkable that the other person had survived this long.

He pondered, "Very good, Leo, you are very honest, and I understand that your life is not easy right now. This street is now my territory, but I currently lack enough manpower to develop it."

"Here's what we'll do. I can allow you to stay on this street and collect cans from now on. You can even invite other people you know to join your team to collect cans together. As long as you don't cause trouble, I can guarantee you won't be harassed or bullied."

Before Leo could even show a surprised smile, Zhang Ailun made his demands, "But all the cans you pick up on this street need to be stored at the No. 19 Bridge Cave camp for unified storage and sale. I can guarantee they won't be stolen. In return, each of you will need to give me a share of the profits and management fees. I'll take $2 out of every $10, $20 out of every $100, and $40 out of every $200."

"That's only fair, sir!" Leo replied immediately, "As long as you can guarantee we can really make $100 or even $200!"

His primary concern was whether he could actually make that much money.

Secondly, these dividends seem to be no different from regular tax payments.

Compared to federal, state, and individual income taxes, and all sorts of other miscellaneous taxes, this is far too simple and straightforward. It's also much lower than the usual protection money and dues charged by gangs.

(End of this chapter)