Empire of Shadows
Chapter 155:

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In the antique shop on the street, the headscarf-wearing boss hung up the phone, a subtle smile on his face, and returned to the counter with a worn notebook. What he needed to do now was stall for time.

He had just called the Lance Family. As an antique shop specializing in buying and selling stolen goods, every antique shop owner had their own network of connections within the gangs.

This business of buying and selling stolen goods was not something everyone could do, even though it seemed simple.

You just needed a storefront and some cash to do this business, but it wasn’t that simple.

There was once an incident where an antique shop owner’s entire family returned to the embrace of God. During the day, he was still dreaming of getting rich, but at night, the dream ended, and the reason was that they had accepted things they shouldn’t have.

If you engaged in this line of work and couldn’t quite distinguish what you could accept and what you couldn’t, then there was a high probability there wouldn’t be a future for you.

And as for why this matter spread so quickly, to the point that he knew about it, it actually had something to do with Bolton—

Ever since Bolton took Lance’s money, he had been promoting Mr. Lance’s generosity everywhere in the Imperial District. In the eyes of many, Mr. Lance was a powerful gentleman willing to extend a helping hand to Imperial people.

That was tuition for college, something ordinary families couldn’t afford, but Mr. Lance could, and he didn’t require any repayment.

Coupled with some recent “good news” circulating about Lance and the Lance Family, like the downfall of the Camille Gang, they developed a blind trust in this Mr. Lance.

In fact, Imperial immigrants at this time all hoped that a powerful figure would emerge from among them. Only then could their lives become slightly better.

Although some said Mr. Lance was a native-born Federation citizen, who had a rough childhood and was sold to a sweatshop to work with illegal Federation immigrants.

It was during his inhumane exploitation and oppression in the sweatshop that an Imperial immigrant helped him, which was why he had a special affection for Imperial people.

But others said he was actually an Imperial, who for some unknown reason suddenly gained Federation citizenship, which was why he was closer to Imperial people.

Regardless of what they said, one fact remained unchanged: he was willing to help Imperial people.

This made everyone from the bottom of their hearts more willing and able to accept this Mr. Lance.

As Lance’s mobile propaganda front in the Imperial District, Bolton was naturally regarded as Lance’s man.

Otherwise, why would he promote Mr. Lance’s virtues everywhere, instead of some other gentleman’s?

After the small shop owner was sent to the hospital, his wife and some family members also went with him, and his young son called the police and waited for them to arrive at the scene.

After the police arrived, they simply asked what had happened, took notes, and then prepared to leave.

He stopped the responding officer and asked when there would be a result. The officer told him to just wait for news. As for anything else?

No comment!

This clearly perfunctory attitude made him feel desperate. He had heard before that the police at the Imperial District precinct weren’t too diligent with cases in this area.

As long as it wasn’t a case that alarmed higher-ranking officials, or one that harmed Federation citizens, they weren’t very proactive.

He used to treat such things as dinner-table conversations with his family while sitting on the sofa, making them feel the injustice and cruelty of the Federation.

But when it happened to him, that despair made him feel fear, unease, anger, and helplessness!

At his worst, he suddenly thought of one person: Bolton.

He and Bolton used to be colleagues. Now he heard that Bolton was Mr. Lance’s man, someone “capable of solving problems.” So he took a hundred dollars and found Bolton.

Meeting an old colleague, Bolton was naturally happy, especially since the other party had brought a gift.

He knew this old colleague; he ran a small shop, and business was quite good.

The living atmosphere in the Imperial District was relatively closed, and the internal community could consume his father’s goods. So, although it was just a small shop, it definitely made money.

He himself could earn money, plus his brother’s earnings, so three people in the family were already making money. Wasn’t this clearly the “middle class of the Imperial District”?

Bolton had three faces: one for those beneath him, one for the middle class, and one for those he had to look up to. He could switch between these faces seamlessly and quickly.

After the two sat down and chatted for a bit, his colleague began to explain the reason for his visit.

He needed Mr. Lance’s help, and everyone knew that Bolton was Mr. Lance’s man.

He couldn’t beg Mr. Lance himself, but he knew Bolton, and hoped Bolton could put in a good word for him with Mr. Lance.

This request made the status-conscious Bolton very pleased, but at the same time, he also felt a heavy burden. If he couldn’t handle this, would rumors soon spread that he wasn’t really Lance’s man?

Then would those people on the street who had been taking off their hats and smilingly greeting him revert to their old ways?

He didn’t like his old life; he liked his current one, even if Lance had only given him money once!

He promised to give it a try, then went into the bedroom. The phone was in the bedroom.

He prayed that it would go through, so he could truly show his face, as a genuine “Mr. Lance’s man.”

With Lance’s current reputation and status in the Imperial District, if he could be regarded as Lance’s man, then he would truly be “Mr. Bolton.”

But he also hoped the call wouldn’t connect, because he wasn’t that familiar with Lance, and he wasn’t sure if his friend’s request would be accepted.

In such conflicting emotions, he looked through the half-closed bedroom door at his expectant former colleague in the living room and dialed the law firm’s number.

The call was connected.

“This is Wanli Firm, how can we help you?” The sweet voice of the receptionist made his bones feel two pounds lighter, but at this moment, his attention wasn’t there.

“I’m Bolton. I want to speak with Mr. Lance. He should remember me.”

“Oh, and I’m Gerald’s uncle.”

The receptionist wasn’t sure what kind of person he was, but she knew Gerald and Lance had a good relationship. The young lady quickly found Lance and explained the situation. Lance asked her to transfer the call.

“I’m Lance, what’s up?”

“I’m Bolton…” Bolton exhaled heavily. “Mr. Lance, it’s like this.”

“I have a friend. He used to be my colleague. We worked together…”

Lance directly interrupted him. “Get to the point. Our time is precious!”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to say we have a good relationship.”

“His father runs a shop in the Imperial District, but it was robbed this afternoon, and he’s still in the hospital’s emergency room.”

“Five young men shot this poor old man…”

Lance generally understood what happened upon hearing this. Such incidents were common in this era, but he also realized it was a good opportunity.

“Call a taxi, then come to the office in the Triangle District. It’s on… Street, number… You’ll find it, there are many people at the entrance. We’ll talk in person.”

After saying that, Lance hung up the phone, but Bolton was clearly very happy!

He hung up the phone, coughed, then pushed open the bedroom door, and in his colleague’s expectant, almost pleading gaze, he delivered the answer he wanted: “Mr. Lance asked me to bring you to see him. Once we meet, you tell him about the misfortune that befell you.”

“That’s great, Bolton, you’re my best friend!”

About twenty minutes later, they arrived in the Triangle District.

Normally, Bolton wouldn’t come to the Triangle District. The situation here was a bit complicated.

This area was between the Port District, Bay Area, and Priliccia District. He couldn’t afford to offend anyone from any side, so he rarely came here.

Fortunately, the taxi driver knew the place and even thought they were there to rent out work cards, so he talked a lot about Wanli Firm on the way.

This firm was gradually gaining more reputation in Golden Port City. More Federation people who didn’t want to work but wanted to earn money started to approach it.

Although some other firms had started to emerge elsewhere, adopting Lance’s model, they were ultimately just latecomers.

Not only did they lack the first-mover advantage, but they also found it difficult to match Lance’s profit distribution.

Lance and his team, having many work cards, could earn a large sum each month by taking two dollars from each job.

However, for smaller firms, perhaps with only one or two hundred work cards, if they only took two dollars per job, their monthly income would be limited to three or four hundred dollars at most.

If a firm only had two or three people, they could barely get by, with each person taking home seventy or eighty dollars after expenses.

But if it exceeded three people, there would be obvious losses, so they had to find ways to squeeze more profit from both sides.

The stronger their profit motive, the more they pushed these people towards Lance’s side. Moreover, Lance and his team also provided free work uniforms, which led to people, even those who weren’t illegal Federation immigrants, being willing to work for Lance.

Before long, some people realized it would become a force that could not be ignored!

The two who got out of the taxi outside the office were stunned by the crowded scene at the entrance. Some were looking for jobs, some were renting out work cards, and some were looking for other opportunities.

The two struggled to squeeze into the office. Bolton tidied his appearance and said he had just spoken with Mr. Lance on the phone.

The young receptionist immediately led him and his friend to Lance’s office.

After the door opened, Lance sat in the chair behind the desk. The two walked in somewhat reservedly. Lance didn’t stand up, only gestured for them to sit down.

After the door closed, he asked, “Bolton told me you encountered trouble?”

“I haven’t asked yet, what’s your name?”

“Nick, Mr. Lance.”

“Okay, Nick, tell me your trouble.”

Nick recounted what happened to him with a heavy heart. During this, Bolton tried to interject once, but Lance stopped him.

After Nick finished speaking, Lance generally understood the whole situation. “So what do you want from me, Nick?”

“If you don’t have money, I can lend you money for the hospital to try its best to save your father, and I can even help you contact an excellent surgeon.”

Nick gritted his teeth, stood up, “Mr. Lance, we have money to treat my father. What I want now is for those who may have killed my father to pay the price!”

“A bloody price!”

“Please dispense justice for me!”

Lance looked at the middle-aged man who had bowed down, his gaze sweeping over Bolton’s face, and finally returning to Nick. “If what you say is true, then I will dispense justice for you.”

Nick’s face showed surprise. He thought of something. “I have nothing to repay you with. I still have some money…”

Lance stopped him. “I’m helping you not because I’m after your money, or anything else of yours, but simply because this society owes you justice, Nick.”

“What you can’t get from it, I’ll give you.”

“Go back and wait for news. I believe it won’t take too long.”

“Also, Bolton, stay.”

Bolton simply gave Nick a few instructions, likely meaning they would go back together, so he could save some money.

And Nick was also very grateful to Bolton, after all, without him, he wouldn’t have been able to meet this somewhat legendary Mr. Lance, let alone ask him to dispense justice for him.

So he planned to treat him to a meal to express his gratitude.

“Mr. Lance!” After Nick left, he immediately stood up. He was very well-informed.

He even heard that Heller had drowned, in his study.

This unrealistic way of dying made him believe even more that Lance was capable, and even the police were willing to lie for him!

So he wouldn’t think he was too great just because he was older.

Bolton’s values might be questionable, but his attitude was always correct. Towards those he couldn’t afford to offend and actively fawned over, he always maintained the demeanor of a lackey.

“You’ve been doing well out there lately.”

He again stopped Bolton from expressing himself. “Gerald told me about some things you’ve done, but he doesn’t have any obvious feelings of hatred, and… you also provided him with a convenience, giving him a legal identity.”

“If he doesn’t pursue those past matters, neither will I.”

“Now, I’m giving you an opportunity to work for me. I need to stabilize public order in the Imperial District as quickly as possible, and I need to recruit a batch of peripheral members.”

“The salary won’t be too high, but it won’t be dangerous. Your job is to just walk around the streets all day, or find a place to sit, drink tea, coffee, read newspapers.”

“And incidentally, pay attention to pedestrians on the street and provide us with intelligence.”

“It’s a very leisurely job. I think you should be capable of it.”

Bolton held the brim of his hat against his chest with both hands, nodding vigorously. “Of course, Mr. Lance, of course, I am absolutely capable of this job!”

Lance pulled open a drawer and took out fifty twenty-dollar bills, stacked together and tied with a rubber band.

“Twenty dollars a month per person. Here’s a thousand. You can recruit fifty people, including yourself.”

“However, I won’t care whether you can recruit fifty people or only one person, as long as you don’t affect my requirements for you, do you understand what I mean?”

Bolton glanced at the cash on the table, his breathing a little ragged, his heart rate quickening slightly. He had never seen so much money together in his life!

It was only the size of a palm, yet it gave him the feeling that he would never earn so much in his lifetime.

He didn’t reach for it; sometimes he was very clear-headed. “Of course, I understand what you mean, Mr. Lance. You want us to be your eyes…”

This is why the antique shop owner knew when Lance started looking for “the five spice-robbing robbers” and even found the real identity of one of them!

He had already found out that the Lance Family was paying attention to these matters.

To avoid becoming accidental cannon fodder, he proactively called the number the other party had left him.

Next, all he had to do was wait for the Lance Family’s people to arrive.

The young man who took the money watched the headscarf-wearing old man count the money for ages and still get it wrong. If he wasn’t worried that the weapon in the old man’s hand would accidentally fire, he would have snatched it and counted it himself.

“Can you f***ing… hurry up?” He also became a little anxious. For some reason, the longer he stalled here, the more uneasy he felt.

He didn’t know if something had happened, or if the headscarf-wearing old man at the street corner had seen something. He suddenly placed a stack of money on the table. “This is all yours.”

The sudden quick movement startled the young man who took the money. At the same time, a screeching brake sound came from outside the door.

He instinctively looked back. He could see two cars rushing towards them, clearly looking for them.

If he still didn’t know what was happening, then his brain must have been eaten by aliens!

He snapped his head back, cursed “F***,” but saw that the other party had already picked up his deer rifle and was telling him to “get the hell out of my shop.”

He could only take the money, glare at the headscarf-wearing boss, and rush out of the antique shop.

He’d settle accounts with him later.

Three cars surrounded them from three different streets. The four young men at the entrance realized something was wrong and immediately scattered and fled.

In one of the cars, Hiram was in the passenger seat with two rookies. He pointed to one of the frantically fleeing individuals and told Lawn, “Run him over.”

“You’re not kidding?” Lawn confirmed again.

Hiram flicked his hair. “Or I’ll just shoot him dead now…”

Lawn slammed on the gas, pressing it all the way down!

Hiram was definitely capable of shooting someone in broad daylight. He didn’t want to make Lance angry!

The car screeched as it lunged towards the running man!

Even though car speeds weren’t very fast during this period, it wasn’t an era where humans could compete with car speeds on foot.

The front of the car, catching up from behind, directly struck the man, sending him flying!

He spun in mid-air, and after a moment that might have been very long or very short, he slammed heavily onto the ground.

Hiram pulled open the car door, adjusted his pants, strode over, and kicked him in the stomach. “Keep running, you f***er!”

(End of this chapter)

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