Sir! Don't close the net!

"Can this shop, San Die Quan, still survive?"

“Who knows… We’ll have plenty of time to think once we’re done with the work,” Lorne nudged Sitch’s arm with his elbow.

"That's true..."

Sitch lowered his head and followed Lorne to the warehouse door. Just as he picked up the box, he heard a knocking sound coming from inside the store. Lorne and Sitch exchanged a glance, put down the box, and quickly, but silently, felt their way along the wall to the front of the store and peered inside.

Inside the store, a homeless man was recklessly kicking the shelves with a shotgun.

"Where's the food! Hand over all the food now! I know you capitalists have already stockpiled enough grain! But we're starving! This is self-defense! Understand? This is self-defense!"

Shirley spread her arms to shield the elderly couple behind her, staring intently at the homeless man holding the shotgun. "We don't have much food left either."

Stop lying!

Sitch and Lorne exchanged a glance and nodded in tacit agreement. Sitch crouched down and quietly crept over, using the shipping container as cover. Once Sitch was in position, Lorne picked up a rock and threw it at the head of the homeless man holding a shotgun.

The homeless man, angrily turned his head after being hit by the stone, and Sitch quickly lunged forward and shoved him away. Lorne also rushed up and punched him, and the homeless man fell to the ground with a thud. The shotgun slid out and was stepped on by Sitch.

Sitch immediately bent down, grabbed a shotgun, and aimed it at the homeless man's head.

The homeless man, who had been looking ferocious, suddenly knelt down with his hands raised above his head, his face filled with terror.

"I'm so sorry! I... I was just momentarily blinded by greed! I won't do it again! I'll never do it again!"

After saying that, the homeless man began to kowtow repeatedly.

Sitch was dumbfounded. He didn't say a word, but the homeless man was terrified.

Lorne paused for a moment, then immediately turned his head nervously to look outside. The passersby in the three-tiered circle outside the store were staring blankly in their direction, their eyes gradually brightening with emotions that they couldn't understand.

"Hurry up and leave!" Sitch also realized something was wrong, and to avoid any accidents, he pushed the shotgun hard towards the homeless man.

"I'm leaving right now! I'm leaving right now!"

The homeless man immediately sprang into action and fled like a stray dog.

Chapter 133 Living

The homeless man, fleeing in a disheveled state, seemed to have taken away all the sounds of the world.

The street fell into complete silence in an instant.

Sitch and Lorne were tense, unsure of how to react.

"it is good!"

Someone shouted first, and the other passersby joined in cheering and clapping. Sitch and Lorne's tense bodies gradually relaxed, and they scratched the back of their heads and smiled shyly at the others who were cheering in their direction.

Because they had always been homeless, they had suffered a lot of scorn and being driven away by the residents of San Die Quan. Now, however, they are being praised as heroes by the residents of San Die Quan.

However, before they could even get carried away, Shirley grabbed them by the back of their collars, pulled them back, smiled at the onlookers, turned around, put her arms around Lorne and Sitch's necks, and led them towards the back door. The elderly couple also reacted and stepped forward to stop the growing number of Triassic residents from making their way out.

Upon reaching the deserted back door, Shirley sighed and remained silent, while Lorne and Sitch grabbed each other's shoulders and cheered excitedly.

"Did you see that bastard's expression?!"

"Of course I saw it! Wuhu—"

"This one really works!" Sitch raised the shotgun in his hand.

Shirley let out a long sigh. Although she hadn't said a word yet, Sitch and Lorne's momentum immediately deflated, and they laughed somewhat awkwardly.

"Hey... do you guys know what just happened?" Shirley rubbed her face vigorously.

"Uh...we saved you?" Sitch blinked.

“Yes, and then you almost killed someone in the store, in front of other passersby,” Shirley raised her hand and pointed forcefully at the shotgun in Sitch’s hand.

“Hey…it’s not that serious, is it?” Lorne scratched his face, paused for a while, then glanced to the side and muttered, “Besides, given what happened just now, even if someone was accidentally killed, the others would still cheer.”

"Huh? What are you thinking about!"

Sherry's eyes widened, and she grabbed Lorne's ear, twisting and pulling it up. Lorne immediately wailed and covered Sherry's hand.

"Have you thought about what would happen next? Do you want them to smile as they wipe up the blood on the ground and laugh as they throw the body out? That one shot! Everything here will be destroyed!"

Sherry's shout made Lorne realize the problem and lower his hand. "Well... there's nothing we can do about it. We can't just watch you... be threatened. If it goes off accidentally, we'll have to clean up your bodies while we're crying."

“So what I’m angry about isn’t that you saved us, but… your reaction afterwards,” Shirley released Lorne’s ear and pinched the bridge of his nose hard. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

Rong, you guys got a little carried away just now, you seemed to be having a good time. What if something unexpected happens...?

"Ah! This gun is out of bullets!"

Sich looked surprised as he opened the magazine, then spit out a curse in annoyance.

"Damn! That scared me! Did that idiot find a gun somewhere and just start using it?"

"Ah...that scared me to death. So that means there won't be any accidental discharge," Lorne breathed a long sigh of relief, patted his chest, and then snatched the gun from Sitch's hand and shook it up and down. "So this is what a gun feels like. It's not as powerful as I thought."

"Wait a minute! I stole this..."

Sitch reached out to snatch the shotgun back, but Lorne nimbly dodged it.

"I helped too, okay? Let me touch it a little longer."

Sherry opened her mouth as she watched Lorne and Sitch grabbing the shotguns on either side of each other, pulling at them like they were fighting over a toy.

She suddenly had a very bad feeling.

"Ah! That's right!"

Lorne, who was pulling the trigger of his shotgun, seemed to remember something, released the gun, grabbed Sitch's shoulder, and his eyes lit up. "I, Sitch! I know what we should do after we finish work!"

Sitch blinked, looking somewhat confused, and followed Lorne's gaze down to the shotgun in his hand.

"Huh? Ah!!!" Sitch realized what was happening and his eyes widened.

"Right!"

Although she didn't understand what kind of consensus Sitch and Lorne had reached, Sherry felt that things were starting to go wrong.

"What do you want to do with this gun!"

"Of course we should do the right thing!" Sitch and Lorne shouted in unison, hands on their hips.

“You saw that homeless guy just now, right? He ran away without even saying a word when a gun was pointed at him,” Lorne said, noticing Sherry’s negative mood. “Obviously, this thing works great! We can use this gun to protect this street from those bastards like Ryan!”

“Yes, yes, and this gun doesn’t have any bullets, so you don’t have to worry about us accidentally firing it,” Sitch also stepped to the other side to persuade them.

Knowing that Sitch and Lorne meant well, Sherry looked conflicted. "But this gun has no bullets, so it won't scare anyone else."

“If we don’t say anything, who will know if this gun is loaded or not?” Lorne shook his head, gestured with his fingers, and grinned mischievously. “That homeless man was scared out of his wits just now.”

“Yeah, yeah, that idiot must think there’s a bullet in the gun. Information travels very fast among homeless people, and the others will soon know we have a gun,” Sitch nodded vigorously.

"This……"

Sherry was still a little conflicted, but when Sitch and Lorne realized that Sherry was no longer as negative about the matter as she had at the beginning, they cheered and shoved Sherry aside before running towards the warehouse.

"We'll finish moving the goods first!"

Watching Lorne and Sitch walk away, Shirley raised her hand, but didn't know how to call them back. She knew better than anyone that Lorne and Sitch simply wanted to repay the elderly couple who had believed in and taken them in, and wanted to improve the lives of the elderly couple on this street by helping the residents of the Triple Circle to avoid being harassed by homeless people.

With something to look forward to, Lorne and Sitch moved much more efficiently than before, and finished moving the boxes in no time.

Sitch and Lorne looked out onto the street, their chests puffed out.

Are you ready?

"I'm ready!"

"I can't hear you!"

"I'm ready!"

"Louder!"

“You’re not getting nervous, are you? Why don’t you just put the gun on me?” Lorne held out his hand to Sitch.

"Cough—nothing of the sort!"

"..."

“Okay, there is a little bit, but I think ‘excitement’ is a better word,” Sitch exhaled and scratched the back of his head. “It’s like… I feel like I’ve really come back to life.”

“That’s true,” Lorne nodded, raising his hand to pat Sitch on the back. “Ready?”

"Alright! Let's go!"

Chapter 134 The Right Thing, the Correct Thing

Dante squatted on the street corner, propping his chin up and gazing at the street in front of him.

He used to like doing this. When he saw a girl passing by, he would reach out and flirt with her. If she screamed, he would whistle. If she responded, he would laugh and put his arm around her shoulder.

There was no other reason; I simply thought it was cool and fit the image of a Jurassic Circle thug.

It feels really great to be able to do whatever you want without having to study or work. And he was lucky; his father was a Mafia godfather, so even without studying, he still had a superior status. Even without working, he could do whatever he wanted, and no one dared to mess with him. That's why he matured very late.

Just thinking about it now makes him want to slap his past self twice.

Of course, such impossible things can only be thought about. Sometimes he would comfort himself by saying that such shame and anger were proof of his growth and transformation.

As for now, he wasn't reminiscing about the past; he was simply waiting.

In the past, his favorite thing was to squat coolly by the roadside like this with a group of like-minded friends. Now, this is what they used to do.

The group gathered to prepare for their walk.

After waiting for a long time, the friends he used to do cool things with didn't show up. Instead, he saw many familiar strangers. They recognized him, but they all silently looked away. Some of them were carrying cement bags, and others were polishing shoes for people.

He firmly believed that his friends who used to do cool things with him would eventually become real thugs and hooligans, because doing bad things and being a bad person was really easy and simple; all you had to do was want to.

Dante slowly rose, slipped his hands into the pockets on either side of his clothes, and began to move slowly in another direction.

Here, even being a thug isn't something you can just decide to do.

Dante let out a long sigh, recalling the priest's expression when he left the church; it was as if the priest had met a god.

"What am I thinking... How could there possibly be gods in this world?"

Dante shook his head vigorously and returned to the inn. Looking at the front desk, which had been deserted for several hours and exuded a chilling, desolate atmosphere, Dante slumped his shoulders. He took out a letter from his inner pocket, sat down by the front desk, and stared at the door in front of him. An inexplicable sense of loneliness made Dante clench his fists involuntarily.

This was the first time he had ever done something like this. As for why he did this, it was probably because he felt he had found like-minded friends, or because he suddenly realized that the world he was facing was far more complex than he had imagined. He had never thought about how much responsibility his simple ideas would have to bear.

Dante unfolded the warm letter that had been pressed against his chest, looked at the beautiful words on it, and lowered his head.