The Path to Power
"Joanna, maybe we should have a baby." Ben's heart burned with the thought of Li Zitao's promise and children. The idea had come to him suddenly, and he couldn't shake it off. He had initially resisted Li's proposal, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he had nothing to be guilty about. Even if all the predictions came true and the stock market collapsed, it wasn't his fault.
As an experienced stock trader, Ben understood the madness and greed of American investors. The stock market was a chaotic and unpredictable beast. Even if someone as influential as little Morgan had warned about fluctuations in the market, nothing could stop the inevitable. He was just a small player in the vast machine of speculation, and the market was far too powerful for any individual to alter its course.
Ben reflected that perhaps he was merely a lucky speculator, riding the wave. Instead of letting his money evaporate in the stock market, maybe he could use it to build a better life for himself and Joanna. The thought occurred to him just for a fleeting moment, but it ignited a spark within him. He shook himself from his reverie, realizing that Joanna was still lost in thought, unsure of his intentions.
"Ben, are you okay?" Joanna asked, her voice soft with concern as she gently rested her head on his chest, soothing his "fragile" heart.
"Honey, I'm fine," Ben responded with a grin, his voice filled with new excitement. "There's no better time than now." He stood up quickly, surprising Joanna. "Hey, I need to speak with Mr. Lee alone."
Later that night, it was already 10 p.m. when Charlie Lee arrived at the club from Area 22. This time, the meeting would take place in his office—a large room reserved specifically for him, even though he rarely visited. The space felt both imposing and comfortable, with the large round bed in the center of the room that always reminded him of the old saying: "If you have a secretary, you have nothing to do with a secretary."
"Mr. Lee, could you explain more about your prediction?" Ben asked as he relaxed into the plush leather sofa, swirling his glass of brandy.
"Of course," Charlie Lee replied, clearly pleased with Ben's eagerness.
"The Dow Jones will fall by more than 80 percent," Charlie said, his voice casual but filled with a calm certainty. He didn't notice the sharp cough that interrupted Ben, as his glass slipped from his hand.
Ben's face drained of color. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. The Dow Jones… falling by 80 percent? "Do you know what you're talking about?" Ben asked, no longer bothering with formalities as he stared at Charlie Lee in disbelief.
"Of course I do," Charlie Lee responded coolly. "Didn't you hear me during the day?" A smug, almost mocking smile spread across his face.
Ben was too stunned to react, his mind racing. The implications of such a catastrophic financial collapse were terrifying. If Charlie's prediction came true, it meant that the financial system would experience a collapse of unprecedented proportions, not just in America, but across the globe. People would lose everything. Lives would be destroyed. Chaos would reign.
"Can you imagine the wealth that could come from this?" Charlie Lee's voice was now laced with a persuasive, almost devilish allure, invoking Ben's greed.
Ben, barely able to breathe, whispered, "If what you say is true, we could be looking at hundreds of millions." His voice had an edge of desperation to it.
"And what you'll gain from this?" Charlie Lee added, enjoying the way Ben's eyes lit up.
"Millions?" Ben echoed, stunned at the thought.
"Yes," Charlie Lee said, his tone rich with satisfaction. "A life of luxury—everything you've ever dreamed of. You can buy all the high-end cars, live in lavish mansions, and people will look up to you with admiration. Maybe even buy a 'louse.'"
In this period, a "louse" was slang for a luxury car like a Rolls-Royce, a symbol of immense wealth and prestige.
Ben could hardly contain his excitement. "Mr. Lee, I think we need more people… more careful planning," he stammered, his earlier greed giving way to a sharp financial mind.
Charlie Lee smiled, pleased with the shift in Ben's demeanor. "Of course, that's why I need you."
Ben leaned forward, his mind already turning over logistics. "We'll need access to the most accurate information. One source from the exchange, one or two statisticians, and a good team of lawyers for tax and legal affairs. And we'll need to keep this as quiet as possible."
Charlie Lee raised an eyebrow at the mention of a larger team, but didn't hesitate. "1 percent is not enough for a team like that."
"It depends on your performance, Ben," Charlie Lee said with a shrug, clearly unbothered. If Ben could set up a powerful think tank and find the right people, Charlie Lee was more than willing to reward him handsomely.
"Before September, I'll bring the necessary people to you, boss," Ben promised. The weight of those words settled over him, and for the first time, he truly felt the power of his future decisions.
"Welcome to getting rich overnight," Charlie Lee said with a grin, offering his glass for a toast.
Ben raised his glass, but his mind was racing with plans, schemes, and the golden opportunity ahead. His position on this venture would depend on his ability to execute.
After the meeting, Charlie Lee mentioned that Ben's wife could be escorted home safely, but for Ben's protection, he would need some extra security. Ben didn't refuse, accepting it as part of the deal.
With Ben now officially in the fold, Charlie Lee felt a little more at ease. He continued his daily routine of training his subordinates and overseeing their development. But every few days, Ben's presence was felt—traveling between cities, recruiting the right people, gathering intelligence, and keeping an eye on the stock market.
As for the stocks under his care, Ben knew he had to stay vigilant. He couldn't afford to let anything slip through the cracks.
On July 31, Ben received another phone call. After hanging up, Charlie Lee made his way to the newly constructed barracks. Ten barracks had been set up in a trapezoidal arrangement south of the training ground. As part of a deal to expand his influence, Charlie Lee had compensated local families at a rate of $100 per mu of land, far above the market price. It was a gesture that secured loyalty and support.
As he walked through the barracks, Charlie Lee thought about the future—about expansion and the resources he would need to continue growing his empire. The last barracks would be completed soon, and soon after, he would have 491 people to manage. The logistics would be complex, but he was determined.
His vision was coming to life: a powerful network of loyal soldiers, secure land, and soon, even more power to wield. Charlie Lee's plans were beginning to take shape, and nothing would stand in his way.
"Boss, the last barracks will be ready in two days," Huang Yifang reported, guiding Charlie through the new accommodations.
The barracks were built with care—each unit designed to house 50 people. Beds were neatly arranged, with clean, fresh bedding and small cabinets for personal items. There were public bathrooms and separate showers for men and women, a small but important detail to avoid trouble with the Women's Association.
"It won't be long before we need more territory," Charlie Lee said, impressed with how things were progressing.
Huang Yifang continued to take notes, making sure everything was in order. Meanwhile, Charlie Lee's special guards—trained soldiers now numbering 1,500—maintained law and order in Chicago, securing the city and ensuring stability.
Thanks to William Dever's help, the city's crime rate had plummeted, and Charlie Lee's influence had grown immensely. His support from the public had risen sharply, especially after taking control of the Capone group and implementing reforms. Now, Charlie Lee's name was known throughout the city, and his wealth and power were on the rise.
The future was unfolding before him, and nothing could stop Charlie Lee from reaching the top.
A Day in the Life of Charlie Lee
Charlie Lee had grown accustomed to his role as a godfather in the city, but his success was also due to the safety net he had built around himself. On the surface, William Dover served as a protective umbrella, while Paul worked quietly behind the scenes, clearing any disturbances that might threaten his empire.
"Fine, I can raise the salary. If you're short on cash, go to Paul," Charlie said. Since taking on the godfather role, Charlie hadn't altered the profits from the wine business. It wasn't out of kindness, but a calculated move. He was positioning himself for a financial windfall once the stock market crash came to an end. This was the moment he had been waiting for—a chance to amass enough capital to accelerate his plans. No one would stop him from profiting from the market disaster.
Charlie felt confident in the progress he had made so far, especially with the upcoming arrival of Dwight, a key figure in his plans.
The morning began with Charlie rising from his bed, donning his clothes, and heading to the training ground. He was greeted by the sounds of loud slogans as the German instructors led their drills. Hans Leohard, the head of the six German instructors, saluted Charlie with respect.
"Keep up the training," Charlie replied casually, running two laps around the training ground. He then performed a quick series of punches to warm up before heading back to his room, feeling energized.
After a bath, he dressed in fresh clothes, completed his look with a top hat, and casually draped his overcoat over his arm. He examined himself in the mirror with a satisfied grin. "Perfect."
As Charlie stepped outside to wait for a taxi, he couldn't help but complain about the scarcity of cabs in the area. "Once the stock market disaster is over, I'll buy ten cars and drive them every day."
Previously, he would call William Dover's driver to take him wherever he needed to go, but today, he hadn't informed anyone in advance, wanting some privacy. After about 20 minutes, Charlie finally managed to hail a taxi and arrived at Chicago Union Station before 8 a.m.
The station was a major hub, with trains running across the East and West coasts. Over 65 trains passed through daily, and millions of passengers traveled through the station every year.
As Charlie waited on the platform, he was startled to see veterans neatly dressed in military uniforms, occupying several carriages. It was an intimidating sight, but the real shock came when a reporter's camera clicked, capturing Charlie's image. His heart sank as he felt exposed, much like a pig being led to slaughter.
"Don't worry, Li. You'll only receive praise and respect," Dwight reassured, having coordinated the media attention in a calm and controlled manner. He answered questions from reporters while keeping Charlie out of the limelight.
"Is this another military operation, Major?" one reporter asked.
"Of course," Dwight responded.
"Will these soldiers secretly participate in certain wars?" another asked.
"Maybe," Dwight answered nonchalantly.
"What is the relationship between this Chinese gentleman and the military?" a reporter pressed.
"No comment," Dwight said with a straight face.
Charlie, overhearing their exchange, could only imagine the frenzy the newspapers would create the next day, with headlines speculating about his involvement. He didn't want the attention and just wanted to focus on his business.
"I just want Aegis Bureau to become famous, not me!" Charlie muttered under his breath, exasperated.
"Your coffee," Dwight said, handing Charlie a cup. The moment felt casual, but it was clear that Dwight had already started shaping the narrative.
"Hey, Lee, we're friends," Dwight remarked with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood.
Charlie, sitting on the sofa, shot back, "Oh, it's my misfortune to know you. Can I repent now?" He had already grown irritated with Dwight's antics, but there was little he could do about it.
"Of course, No way." Dwight took a sip of his coffee, savoring the freshly brewed beans from Brazil.
"For the time being, I can't accept any more people. No matter what plan you have, it has to stop here," Charlie said, growing serious. Dwight nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.
"If more veterans are sent here, I'm afraid the military headquarters will start to worry," Dwight acknowledged, his demeanor shifting slightly. He understood that he was walking a fine line with Charlie, who had the power to push things too far if needed.
Charlie, sensing the tension, leaned back and said with a smirk, "Don't come near me. I'm straight. I don't do the foundation work. I'm not picking up soap. Stop."
Dwight looked at him, slightly confused by the unusual phraseology, but eventually understood that Charlie was not interested in making the situation more complicated.
"You're kidding. There was too much pressure before," Charlie added with a smile.
Dwight looked at him solemnly, "These soldiers are good, and I never would have given them to you if they weren't able to reintegrate into civilian life." Dwight was making a promise that Charlie would handle the veterans carefully, ensuring they would not endanger the reputation or security of the United States.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of them," Charlie replied confidently. He wanted to reassure Dwight that he could manage the veterans without issues.
The soldiers who had been demobilized after the Spanish-American War were dealing with their own psychological scars. War neuroses, which had become more recognized after World War I, had caused many of them to suffer from symptoms like insomnia, heightened alertness, and extreme nervousness. Some had trouble adjusting to civilian life, and for Charlie, this was both an opportunity and a challenge.
As Dwight had hoped, Charlie's handling of the veterans would ultimately decide whether this would turn into a disaster or a profitable venture.
"Here's an agreement. Take a look at it," Dwight said, handing Charlie a stack of papers.
"I need to have my lawyer look at it first," Charlie replied, rising to dial Huang Yifang's number. "I need four professional lawyers here as soon as possible."
An hour later, four lawyers in suits arrived, and they quickly set to work reviewing the agreement. Their whispered discussions and the rustling of papers filled the room as Dwight and Charlie sipped their coffee.
"Mr. Lee, we believe there are several points in this agreement that are unreasonable," one of the lawyers said as he stepped forward.
"Where?" Charlie asked, sitting up with a renewed interest.
"Article 27, the harsh exit restrictions, could limit your freedom, and Article 35, which demands unconditional government cooperation…" the lawyer explained.
Listening to the lawyer's objections, Dwight's expression darkened, and he clenched his fists. His annoyance was clear, but he knew he had to compromise to make the deal work.
"In addition, Article 43 forbids any participation in the personal or corporate affairs of American citizens, and Article 51 forbids involvement in tasks that could potentially harm American citizens or their allies," the lawyer continued, eyeing Dwight warily.
Charlie glanced at Dwight, who was visibly uncomfortable. He noted, "You heard what they said."
"Of course," Dwight muttered, trying to remain calm. He picked up the documents and sighed. "I'll take these back for further negotiations."
Charlie smiled, knowing he had the upper hand. With his recent application for U.S. residency, he was now protected by the Constitution. He wasn't about to let anyone infringe on his rights.
"Don't worry, that won't change," Dwight said begrudgingly.
"You should draft a new agreement soon," Charlie advised, enjoying his small victory.
"How about lunch? I've got lobster and oysters," Charlie offered with a grin.
"I'm in a hurry," Dwight replied, clearly irritated by the situation. He was beginning to feel like Charlie had intentionally pushed his buttons.
As Charlie chuckled at Dwight's discomfort, he couldn't help but feel satisfied. His plan was moving forward, and he was one step closer to securing his place in the city, no matter the cost.
The deal with Dwight would ultimately be beneficial, but for now, Charlie Lee had made sure that no one would walk all over him. In this city, power was everything, and Charlie intended to keep it firmly in his grasp.
Title: The Brew That Could Change the World
After seeing Dwight off, four lawyers also decided to leave, with Huang naturally left to handle the bill.
Now, Lao Huang had become the financial steward of Charlie Lee. Whether it was for business expenses or personal spending, he was responsible for the middle-aged compatriot who was growing increasingly adept in English.
"Boss, the phone." Hearing the call, Charlie turned back toward the club, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"
"Boss, it's me. The brewery has good news!" Paul's cheerful voice came from the other end.
It turned out that the recently acquired brewery had made a breakthrough in beer brewing. A Mexican brewer had accidentally tasted a new beer brewed in the traditional tequila drinking style, and found the taste so remarkable that he couldn't get enough of it.
The method was simple: sprinkle salt on the back of your hand, hold a small glass of pure tequila between your thumb and index finger, then clip a slice of lemon between your ring and middle fingers. You lick the salt off your hand, quickly drink the tequila, and bite into the lemon slice. This was the traditional way of drinking tequila.
This new attempt had opened the minds of the brewers, who now considered adding small amounts of salt and lemon juice to the beer. As one of them put it, "A beer that could change the world has officially been born."
"Change the world? It's bigger than me." Charlie laughed and hung up the phone. He sat down on the sofa, waiting for Paul to pick him up in his Buick.
Charlie planned to visit the brewery to taste the so-called "beer that changes the world."
"BOSS." Paul trotted into the room, still excited.
"What's the name of the brewery?" On the way to Milwaukee, Charlie asked Paul about the brewery.
He didn't even know the name of the brewery, only the city: Milwaukee.
"Miller, Miller Beer Company," Paul replied eagerly.
"That's a terrible name. It needs to be changed. Qingdao sounds much better." Charlie, in a burst of creativity, suggested a name that felt right to him.
"Qingdao?" Paul raised an eyebrow, confused.
"Yeah, let's call it Qingdao Beer," Charlie said with a mischievous smile, pleased with his idea.
Paul, though puzzled, simply nodded, unsure of where this was going.
Charlie was already imagining how amusing it would be when the beer took off worldwide and foreigners were compelled to say "Kiss me, cut beans," not knowing the meaning, just because of the odd name he'd chosen.
Charlie didn't realize that his quirky decision was about to play a huge role in the history of the brewing industry. Miller, the second-largest beer company in America, would soon disappear into history without even a trace.
"Welcome to Miller Brewery, Boss. I'm Frederick Miller," an older man with slightly gray hair greeted Charlie at the brewery.
"Mr. Miller is the founder of Miller Beer," Paul quickly clarified.
"From today on, it's no longer Miller; it's Qingdao Beer." Charlie confidently declared, taking ownership of the company.
Frederick Miller looked a bit disappointed but had already braced himself for this inevitable change. Every new boss brings a reshuffling, and he wasn't sure if he'd get to stay at the company he'd worked so hard to build.
"Miller, what do you think of the name?" Charlie asked as he walked ahead, pausing to let Frederick catch up.
"Of course, it's good, just a bit of a tongue-twister," Frederick replied with a forced smile.
Charlie grinned. "Don't you think a name that's hard to pronounce might actually make people remember it more?"
Frederick had no choice but to agree.
Soon enough, everyone in the brewery would be repeating "Qingdao," unsure of what it meant but unable to forget the name.
Charlie took a sip of the new beer, which had a beautiful golden color and glimmered like opal. It had a faint fragrance, a hint of coolness, and a slightly sour aftertaste that complemented the beer's flavor in a delightful way.
"This beer is going to cause a revolution in the market. I'm sure it will sell out quickly, and businessmen will be flocking to buy it," Miller said, his excitement barely contained.
Charlie agreed, nodding as he finished the drink. The beer was indeed special, and it left a satisfying taste in his mouth. It was a promising new product.
"But don't forget about Prohibition," Charlie reminded, his tone slightly colder, as the looming government restrictions hung over the industry.
By the way, where's the brewer who invented this beer?" Charlie asked, looking around.
"Here, his name is Alexander. He's a great guy. I found him," Paul said, introducing the young man.
The boy was shy but looked up nervously when Charlie spoke.
"How old are you?" Charlie asked, his curiosity piqued.
"15 years old, sir," Alexander answered hesitantly.
"That's impressive," Charlie replied, glancing at Miller, who spoke up sympathetically.
"In Mexico, many children younger than Alexander have been working for 2-3 years. It's not easy for him to get this far."
Charlie nodded, then made a decision. "To reward your discovery, you can either have 2.5% of the company's shares or $10,000 in cash."
The room went silent. The workers watching from the sidelines were stunned. Whether it was the shares or the cash, both options were incredibly tempting.
Most people were inclined to choose the cash, given the uncertainty of the future due to Prohibition. Cash was more immediate, after all.
After a moment of thought, Alexander's eyes became determined. "I choose the shares."
Charlie smiled, impressed by the young brewer's decision. "Well, congratulations on your smart choice. Paul, have someone draft the necessary paperwork."
Charlie had just transferred 2.5% of the shares to Alexander's name. Some people in the room were filled with pity or admiration for the young brewer. They couldn't understand why he'd choose shares over immediate cash, but Charlie knew better. His goal was to create long-term growth, and Alexander had made the right choice.
With the paperwork in motion, Charlie turned to Paul. "Let Miller continue as general manager. Order the production of the new beer under your name, and send it to Nuki as a thank-you gift."
Nuki had previously gifted Charlie with a box of high-end brandy. Charlie now returned the favor with his own brand-new beer.
As Charlie walked through the brewery, inspecting all the equipment and making sure the workers would be paid on time, he left the building with a sense of satisfaction.
"Everything is professional here. Miller developed the company well before Prohibition. The company has a good reputation and a solid sales network across the continents," Paul said, his grin widening.
"Let him continue to lead. As for the beer production, let's send it out. We'll see where it goes from here."
Charlie was optimistic. He was confident that this new beer, with its unique taste and branding, had the potential to take off globally. "Maybe my first pot of gold should start with Qingdao Beer," he thought with a laugh.
Paul, on the other hand, was becoming increasingly concerned. He held shares in Miller Beer now, and if the prohibition agents came after him, it would surely be a complicated mess. Still, at least for now, he could enjoy the benefits of the wine trade.
Meanwhile, Charlie's reputation was growing by the day. Newspapers everywhere were publishing stories about him. The Chicago Tribune had even devoted half a page to a photo of Charlie shaking hands with Dwight, with an article that cast him as the mysterious new figure with ties to the Federal Military.
"Why don't they just say I'm the hidden master behind the scenes, controlling the world with a wave of my hand?" Charlie joked to himself, rolling his eyes at the tabloids. They were certainly making his life more dramatic than it really was.
With a chuckle, Charlie tossed the newspaper aside, already tired of the ridiculous stories about his so-called rise to power. But he couldn't deny that he was in the middle of something big, something that might just change the world.
Title: The Path of Power: Charlie Lee's Journey in the American Und
"Boss, why let them bother you?" Lao Huang kicked the newspaper aside and said with a smile, "At least the number of telephone inquiries about Aegis has increased fourfold. I believe someone will be drawn in soon."
In truth, the Aegis Bureau, Aegis Security, and Aegis Special Guards were no longer a secret to those who cared. Senator Nick Brandy had already launched a massive campaign, drawing attention with his ever-present yellow and black-suited bodyguards. There had been more than a few reports on them, dominating whole pages to highlight Nick's political ideas, challenging racial discrimination, and drawing attention to colorism. However, the real action had yet to begin, with people merely seeing the bodyguards as "cool."
The suits, the rigid expressions, the sharp eyes like eagles, and the constant vigilance as they scanned their surroundings made them undeniably cool. Their attire, posture, and attitude had become a fashion trend among the youth, something Charlie Lee hadn't anticipated. But the campaign was reaching its conclusion. Senator Brandy had achieved what he needed, the monk had been transferred to Atlantic City, and Nuki was now focusing on the detective.
"Why does my second life feel like such a struggle?" Every time Charlie thought of his pitiful situation, he couldn't help but want to cry. He thought about the big players—those with assets in the tens or hundreds of millions, with powerful connections bending the knee to them. They conquered markets, owned industries, and dreamt of reaching the stars. Meanwhile, he was stuck, trying to make sense of a world he barely understood.
"Why am I so out of place?" He had no connections with Microsoft, Apple, or Marvel—companies whose trajectories were beyond his comprehension. Even the mixed singing and cultural circles amazed him. Not only could those in the industry bend the rules, but they could also write entire chapters with just a single lyric.
"Hollywood!" The allure of the entertainment capital had his mouth watering, but he knew his situation. He wasn't a player on that stage. With his current stature, he would be crushed by the overwhelming capital.
"Boss? Boss?" Lao Huang waved a hand in front of Charlie, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Where were you just now?" Charlie wiped his mouth and asked.
"About Aegis," Lao Huang replied helplessly.
"Right, right. Find a few women with sweet voices and fluent language. Their appearance isn't as important as their voices. Let them handle the phone lines." Voice, after all, was essential. A pleasant voice could evoke deep, primal desires in people, causing them to loosen their wallets and give up their money without even realizing it.
Time passed, and by mid-August, the launch of the "Get Rich in One Night" plan was drawing near. Yet, Charlie didn't hear from Ben or his team. Instead, Major Dwight returned.
"Look, this is the best I could do for you." Dwight looked visibly exhausted, his sleep quality deteriorating from the stress.
"Take a seat, have some coffee, and relax. They need more time." Four different lawyers were busy revising the terms of the agreement. This time, however, things moved faster than last time. It seemed Dwight had brought good news.
After forty minutes, the lawyers handed over the finalized agreement to Charlie. Dwight breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you," Charlie said as the lawyers exited. He sat down and carefully reviewed the document.
"Didn't they say there were no problems?" Dwight asked impatiently.
"Can you trust a lawyer?" Charlie smirked, unhurriedly reading through the clauses. In less than 15 minutes, he'd gone through the agreement and noted two major points: "You must not do anything that harms the interests of the American people," and "You may not change your nationality and become a permanent citizen of the United States." He understood the weight of the word "people" in American law—government and citizens were distinct entities.
"I won't harm the interests of the people. I'll just harm the interests of the government," Charlie thought to himself with a smirk.
"Alright, let's sign here, right?" Charlie said, signing his name with confidence.
"F*ck, Lee, I'm starting to hate you," Dwight muttered, flopping onto the couch.
"Thanks for the compliment," Charlie joked, signing off with his alias, Charlie Lee.
"Task completed, I'm off to work," Dwight said, standing up and preparing to leave. After a few layers of seals, the official copy would be sent by mail. With email, nothing in America could be more easily resolved—except for people, of course.
Dwight, however, seemed in a hurry. "What's going on?" Charlie asked, sensing urgency.
"I'm transferring to a new position," Dwight said, though he didn't mention where. Charlie assumed it must be a sensitive matter, so he refrained from asking further. He escorted Dwight to the door, watching him drive off.
With the secret agreement signed and the performance of 491 veterans now a source of satisfaction, Charlie's worries seemed to ease. He reflected on the progress and performance of his new army—a diverse group of individuals with their own histories, but now under his control.
No matter their quirks or past misdeeds, they could be molded into useful soldiers. In fact, Charlie had already begun his conditioning program. One evening, after encountering a group of rebellious veterans, he barged into their barracks, seized their weapons, and beat them into submission.
The veterans had a few complaints about his methods, but when Charlie responded by surrounding the barracks with more than 200 armed men, they quickly understood the importance of discipline. They realized that their rebellious behavior would not be tolerated. The intimidation worked—no one dared to defy Charlie again.
The following morning, Charlie continued his tactics, confronting more veterans with even more force. The veterans had learned their lesson. Their respect for Charlie's strength was absolute. In the battlefield, only the strongest commanded respect, and Charlie had earned his place as an unchallenged leader.
From that day forward, there were no disobedient veterans. With just a look, they stood straight, heads up, awaiting instructions. It wasn't fear, but admiration for his unmatched strength that commanded their loyalty.
Charlie maintained a rigorous training schedule. He wasn't about to slow down, even if their performance seemed already stellar. He lived by the saying, "sweat more in training, bleed less on the battlefield." Every day, they grew stronger and more disciplined. His eyes were constantly on them, ensuring that they were ready for anything.
One day, as Charlie supervised the training and inspected his territory, his phone rang. It was Paul, his trusted ally.
"Boss, we've got a problem," Paul said in a somber tone.
"What kind of trouble?" Charlie asked, motioning for Lao Huang to leave the room so he could focus.
"It's about Luciano. He killed Malasano and is now targeting you," Paul reported, causing Charlie to stop in his tracks. He hadn't expected Malasano's death, nor had he anticipated Luciano's escalating aggression.
"Where's Nuki?" Charlie asked, his anger simmering beneath the surface. Luciano was becoming too bold, and Charlie wasn't about to let him get away with it.
"Nuki's angry about it. I think he's going to call you," Paul replied, adding with a bit of amusement, "I think he'll want to talk to you soon."
"Alright. I'll send a few more people to back you up. Be careful," Charlie said, his voice firm. He trusted Paul's judgment, and for now, Chicago's black zone was safe in his hands.
"Boss, you too," Paul added carelessly.
Charlie smiled inwardly, knowing that Paul had lost his wariness after witnessing his strength. At this point, Paul regarded him as indestructible, a leader who could take on anyone—even a Mafia boss like Luciano.
"Don't worry," Charlie said confidently, "I'll take care of it. After all, I'm Superman in their eyes."
With the veteran soldiers ready and his influence growing, Charlie Lee was positioning himself as an undeniable force in the world of American power—one that even Luciano would have to reckon .