At this moment, the cursing intensified, and the commotion is constituted as an incident. Seven or eight people gathered around, some in bar uniforms, others with equally menacing expressions. They controlled the situation while the local enforcer, Blackie, came over to assess the situation. As he inquired about the events, everyone fell silent.
A beer bottle mysteriously exploded, an empty bottle shattered in panic, and two burly men ended up injured while the seemingly helpless office lady and the waiter remained unharmed?
Could luck or karma really be this powerful...?
The scene caused a minor commotion. Blackie, experienced as he was, left a few men to maintain order while the rest reassured the patrons in the dance hall. The DJ quickly caught on, riling up the crowd with another wave of music. The patrons, already dazed by the relentless beats, continued to immerse themselves in the revelry.
However, the situation at hand still needed addressing. Blackie found himself in a tricky position. The men brought by the bosses wore expressions that clearly said, 'you deal with it. As he hesitated to speak, the supervisor came down from upstairs.
"What's going on here?" The supervisor, usually sporting a friendly smile, now looked very serious.
Blackie quickly explained the situation. The supervisor's expression shifted several times as he glanced at the office lady and then at Logan, the new recruit. After a long sigh, he finally spoke.
…
"This is your salary for the past few days."
In a quiet corner of the bar, the commotion had settled. The drunken office lady had been taken home by her family, and the messy table in the lounge area had been cleaned. After a while, another unsuspecting man and woman sat on it and played together.
The supervisor handed an envelope with Logan's pay inside. His expression wasn't exactly friendly, but it wasn't harsh either.
Logan didn't mind. Being fired was expected, as he had never intended to stay long in this job. He accepted the envelope calmly, giving it a slight squeeze.
"Supervisor, it seems like there's more here than usual."
"Consider it as pay for half a month." The supervisor replied, waving his hand dismissively.
"Thank you." Logan accepted the envelope without making a fuss, and expressed his gratitude. Luke, observing quietly from the other side of the bar, smiled slightly and turned to leave.
The supervisor looked up, somewhat surprised, expecting Logan to ask for a reason, but all he saw was the student's retreating figure.
The ones injured belonged to the Blue Gang. Normally, the supervisor could smooth things over, but today, the Blue Gang's big boss overseeing the area was upstairs. Regardless of whether it was Logan's fault, he had to take the fall and leave to save face for both sides.
It was just a part-time student job anyway. The decision would have been the same for anyone in that position.
Shaking his head, the supervisor adjusted his clothes and went back upstairs to continue serving the big boss.
…
Logan stepped out of the bar, breathing in the slightly fresher air of the early morning.
Was he meddling too much? Perhaps a little, but sometimes tossing away something insignificant to him meant picking up something significant for others. Even though he had never met the office lady, despite his past experiences and the taint on his soul, doing a good deed now would made life feel just a bit different in the future.
Logan walked slowly out of the city center, and pulled out a business card.
"It seems that 'Fight, Ninja' needs to launch earlier than planned. Hmm, a guy named Damian Light..."
He dialed a number.
…
Damian Light was in a foul mood lately.
The Blue Gang had officially started taking action against the Sand Down Society. While preparations were progressing well in most areas, he was encountering a bit of trouble.
The boss, George had tasked him with delivering a direct blow to the Sand Down Society, a straightforward, frontal assault. This meant that all the plans to undermine and hollow out the Sand Down Society were merely superficial.
Even in modern society, where brains and operations were increasingly important, and a well-coordinated team of iron-level fighters could take down a challenger, traditional showdowns and tactics couldn't be abandoned.
He had to organize his men to face off against the Sand Down Society in a head-on confrontation.
Initially, his plan seemed sound, which is to combine forces with other big bosses' fighters and borrow some cannon fodder from other gangs to take down the Sand Down Society.
However, those involved were shrewd, presenting a united front but secretly slacking off. He realized this was a ploy to exhaust his trusted men. Even if they won, it would just be a return on investment, with no real gains.
The time was already Thursday, and tomorrow was the scheduled action. Damian was feeling increasingly irritable, as it seemed he would have to lead his own men and a bunch of young recruits into the brawl tomorrow.
He wasn't worried about mistakes. It was just that fighting, and it wasn't like in the movies where one person could take on dozens without breaking a sweat. Even seasoned fighters could get overwhelmed by sheer numbers, and the thought made him anxious.
Seeing no progress, he hastily ended the meeting and went to a bar within his territory to relax, only to find something unexpected happened.
"What's going on down there?" Through the one-way glass, the dance floor of the bar was fully visible. In the dim lighting, something was happening in the rest area.
"Damn, these troublesome guys. Mr. Light, wait a moment, I'll go and take care of it right away!" A man who was older than him was embarrassed by the situation and quickly volunteered to go down.
The quiet of the private room contrasted sharply with the noise below. Damian was still thinking about the manpower arrangements for tomorrow. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before the manager came running back, "Mr. Light, sorry to keep you waiting."
The manager smiled warmly and, seeing the empty teacup on the table, hurriedly poured more tea.
"What happened?" Damian asked perfunctorily. In truth, he wasn't interested at all.
"Just a small issue. A waiter accidentally broke a bottle, and two of our guys got cut. I've already fired the waiter." The manager replied in a nonchalant tone, "I'll personally cover the medical expenses for our guys who got hurt."
"Oh."
Damian responded indifferently, indicating that he got it. It was indeed a trivial matter, and he had more pressing concerns to think about.
"Ring ring..."
The crisp sound of a marimba, accompanied by a vibration, signaled that his phone was ringing.
Damian and the manager turned their attention to the desk at the same time.