A green banknote fluttered in front of Bray, swaying gently in the evening breeze.
Staring at the hundred-dollar bill, Bray felt like he'd seen a ghost. His whole body trembled even more.
Wait, what do you mean the matter with the siblings is written off?
And what about the debt between you and him—just cleared like that?
Bray glanced at the stone-faced Lua and felt an overwhelming urge to bury his head in the ground like an ostrich.
"Sir, it's just two slices of pizza. It's not worth so much money, haha..." he stammered awkwardly.
That's not what you said earlier when you looked so ready to rip us apart.
The Lu Xuan siblings exchanged confused glances, still trying to process what they were seeing. A moment ago, Bray had been ready to kill them, but now, he looked pitiful and submissive.
Bray wouldn't even dare close his eyes in fear, and Lua didn't seem interested in pressing him any further.
"So… about what happened tonight, you—"
Before Luya could finish, Bray cut him off hurriedly, "Nothing happened tonight!"
His words were quick and desperate, as if saying them fast enough would make them true. Then, an idea sparked in his mind.
"If you have any other instructions, I'm at your service!" Bray grinned, plastering a look of eager obedience on his face. "Anything you need, boss!"
Without a second thought, Bray began calling himself "little brother." Serving under someone like Luya, who could yank out a streetlight with his bare hands, was a much brighter prospect than sticking with the Iron Stick Party.
Sure, the Iron Stick Party sounded like a gang, but it was really just a group of low-level thugs who couldn't afford guns and armed themselves with iron rods. Their so-called "protection fees" came from shaking down poor residents in Hell's Kitchen, who barely had enough to feed themselves.
Luya was about to reject Bray's offer, but then reconsidered. Having someone familiar with Hell's Kitchen might be useful for getting things done—and maybe even help him strengthen his new template. After all, Hell's Kitchen was chaos incarnate, a place where law barely existed. Here, Luya could do whatever he wanted.
He nodded, a small grin forming. "Take me to your... base."
Bray's eyes lit up. "Yes, boss!"
Luya didn't correct him. Instead, he turned toward the Lu Xuan siblings.
"You're coming with me, too."
Luya wasn't about to leave them behind. He didn't trust Bray enough yet and didn't want to risk the siblings being harmed if he left them alone.
Lu Xuan looked at her brother, then at Luya. She knew they didn't have many choices. Maybe staying close to this mysterious young man was their best option. In a place like Hell's Kitchen, even a small amount of safety was a luxury. Most of the time, people were forced forward, even if they were heading toward disaster.
Having grown up in Hell's Kitchen, Lu Xuan understood that reality all too well. Her younger brother, Lu Hao, though still naive, trusted her judgment without question.
With the siblings in tow, Bray led the way, his group carrying the injured brother on someone's back. They weaved through the grimy streets of Hell's Kitchen, where robberies and gang fights flared up like clockwork.
But with his enhanced senses, Luya detected danger long before it reached them, effortlessly avoiding any potential skirmishes. Bray, watching in amazement, grew more certain that siding with Luya had been the smartest decision he'd ever made.
Finally, Bray stopped in front of a small building. "Boss, we're here."
They had passed through dilapidated residential areas, and now stood before what Bray proudly called "the base." It was an unnamed hotel wedged between a bar and a vegetable shop.
"The bar on the right and the vegetable shop on the left are ours, too," Bray said with a hint of pride. "They belong to the Iron Stick Party."
The pride in his voice didn't impress Luya. All he saw was a rundown block in a dying neighborhood. Still, he made a mental note of the layout.
From what he'd observed, this part of Hell's Kitchen—likely the southern block—consisted of five or six interconnected streets. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Inside the hotel restaurant, a few patrons sat eating at small, grimy tables. As Luya and Gwen entered, all eyes turned toward them. Malicious glints flickered in the eyes of the diners, especially as they noticed Gwen.
A middle-aged man with thinning hair lowered his head and discreetly pulled out his phone. He snapped a photo of Gwen and started dialing.
Bang!
The next instant, a deafening noise echoed through the street. Heads poked out from windows, and people leaned out of doorways to see what had happened.
They saw the fat man flying through the air, crashing onto the street outside the hotel. His head hit the pavement with a sickening thud, and he lay in a heap, his bloody scalp exposed. He tried to rise but collapsed again, vomiting blood—and a few teeth for good measure.
"Looks like there's a new big shot in town!" someone muttered from the crowd gathering to watch the scene unfold.
Every street in Hell's Kitchen had its own "boss," and by the looks of it, this new guy had just thrown out Matt—the leader of the Iron Stick Party and the reigning boss of this block.
Bray stared wide-eyed at the fat man writhing on the street. He blinked, trying to process what had just happened. Did my boss just send Matt flying?
"Uh... who is this guy?" Luya asked, his voice cold.
The fat man had crossed a line by targeting someone in Luya's group. And Luya had no tolerance for anyone stepping out of line.
Bray swallowed hard and forced a grin. "No idea, boss. Just some drunk old bastard, I guess."
The crowd gasped. Bray's words carried a heavy implication—he had just turned on Matt, the man who'd been his leader moments ago.
Luya didn't care. He picked up an iron rod from a nearby rack and strode toward the bleeding man.
"You—" Matt tried to speak, but Luya cut him off with a swift strike.
Bang!
Luya slammed the rod down with finality. "From now on, I run things here. Who's with me?"
The crowd exchanged nervous glances, silently weighing their options. No one dared to oppose him.
[Motherland Template Unlocked: +5%]
[Progress: 45%]
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