"Hey guys, guess who I just saw?" With a bang, the door to an underground bar was pushed open, and a young man with an excited expression walked in from outside. He made his way to a small round table filled with people.
In the United States, the control of tobacco and alcohol is extremely strict. According to the explicit regulations, people under the age of 21 are not allowed to smoke or drink. They need to show their ID when buying tobacco or alcohol in supermarkets or stores. If they are not over 21, they will not be sold any. Most bars have the same policy, prohibiting those under 21 from drinking.
At the same time, if someone over 21 buys cigarettes or alcohol for them, it is also illegal and they can face penalties.
However, just like internet cafes in China, there are many loopholes despite the explicit regulations.
In the United States, some underground bars cater specifically to people under 21.
After all, high school students or those in their first or second year of college are often quite rebellious.
They want to try things like cigarettes and alcohol that are forbidden at home or in the country. After all, this is supposed to be a free country. At these bars, people under 21 are openly enjoying their beer.
"Who else did you see? Who's the big shot?" A young man at the table couldn't help but chuckle as he asked.
"Bunian, your mouth smells like sunflower," the new arrival responded, clearly annoyed.
"You talk as if you've smelled it," Bunian retorted immediately.
"Who cares? Stop talking nonsense and let Baron continue," a young man wearing a cowboy hat sitting at a distance said, cutting off their argument. At his words, the two who were about to continue their bickering fell silent. The newcomer grabbed a new bottle of beer, opened it, and took a sip before speaking again.
"I just saw Delia's little watch get smashed." Looking at the others around him, the man named Baron whispered.
"Delia? I know her. The girl who's really well-behaved at home but wild at school. I heard she changes boyfriends faster than clothes. Tsk, tsk. I wonder if she's loosened up," said another young man, touching his chin. Hearing his words, the others laughed, clearly familiar with the rumors about the girl.
"Do you really believe what those people say? Who is Delia's father? Bob George. What guy would dare to date her? Isn't he scared of Bob's Remington being shoved up his rear?" The cowboy hat-wearing man laughed as he spoke. He knew Bob George's reputation. In their circle, no one dared mess with him; he was known to be a dangerous man who could actually shoot.
"Uh, haha, that's not what I meant. I just ran into her and her dad. There were a lot of horses in the car. I casually asked where they were going, and they said they were heading to Green Forest to drop off the horses. I took a look and saw that the horses were all high quality—Quarter horses—and there was even a very large one. I'm guessing it wasn't cheap. Those horses alone are probably worth $100,000." Looking at everyone, Baron clarified what he wanted to say.
"$100,000? What's that? I heard Lehman recently bought 20,000 Angus cattle for Green Forest. How much are they worth? $20 million! That damn Chinese guy," Bunian said with a scowl.
"And that ranch is worth $280 million," the cowboy hat-wearing man added lightly.
"By the way, Faraday, when that Chinese guy was recruiting, you applied, right? How is he? Is he tough to deal with?" Baron asked after hearing the cowboy hat's words.
"Hmph, what else can he do? He's just a weak yellow monkey. He thinks he's special with some dirty money in his hands," Faraday said, clearly irritated.
Jiang Hai also knew this guy, Faraday. He was one of the people Robbins had recruited when he went to the tavern, and Faraday was the one Jiang Hai eventually drove away for being too arrogant.
This guy wanted to bully Jiang Hai, but that wasn't going to happen. Jiang Hai was not someone to be messed with.
"Hey, since you're so upset with him, how about we give him a beating and get some money?" Bunian said with a straight face, looking at Faraday with a grin. Hearing his words, the others showed signs of excitement. Young people often think money is everything.
These guys didn't have stable jobs, and if they wanted to avoid starvation while living a life of luxury, they had to find ways to make money. Obviously, blackmailing the rich seemed like a good way to do it.
"Won't there be trouble?" Baron hesitated for a moment, speaking quietly.
"What kind of trouble? The Chinese are notoriously timid. Just knock them around a bit, and they'll give you money without a fight," Bunian said dismissively.
There were many Chinese people in the United States, but they could be divided into three groups. The first group consists of Chinese who grew up here, either immigrating long ago or being sold as slaves. These people often have their own local networks and are not easy to mess with. Despite their yellow skin, many of them can barely speak Chinese and consider themselves Americans.
The second group is those who immigrated more recently for business or technological opportunities. While they still have some connection to their Chinese roots, they are often more focused on success in the U.S.
The third group consists of wealthy Chinese who are criminals or fugitives from China—some who fled with public funds or were corrupt officials. These people are often afraid of drawing attention and become targets for extortion by gangs. These were the kinds of people the group believed Jiang Hai to be, but they were wrong.
"But he hired Robbins, Burke, Philemon, Harriman, and Bell. Those guys are a bit troublesome," Faraday said with some frustration.
"They're all our uncles. I don't believe they'll shoot us over a foreigner. People live for money. At worst, they'll just share some of it. As for Harriman and Bell, they'll probably pretend not to see anything!" Bunian chuckled confidently, convinced that Jiang Hai would give them money. But would things be as easy as he imagined? Sometimes, people are too naive, and that can be dangerous.
"A-choo..." At that moment, Jiang Hai, who was in Boston, felt an itch in his nose and sneezed.
"Boss, what's wrong? Have you caught a cold?" Robbins asked with a smile when he heard the sneeze.
"No, I guess it's just pollen or something," Jiang Hai replied, rubbing his nose. His physical condition had reached the peak of human limits since being possessed by the true dragon spirit. It's a bit ridiculous to say that he doesn't avoid the cold and heat, but he generally doesn't catch colds. Now, sneezing might just be from something he shouldn't have smelled or someone talking about him.
Shaking off the superstition, Jiang Hai looked at the gun store in front of him.
From the outside, gun stores in the U.S. looked almost like small supermarkets in China, except they sold guns instead of food.
Walking into the store, Jiang Hai couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The shelves were packed with guns. In the counter, on the walls, and in the center of the store, long guns were displayed. The counter had mostly pistols, and the walls were lined with various types. Jiang Hai recognized a few—like the M16 and AK47. There were also many guns he didn't recognize, like the Israeli Galil and the German G3, which looked similar to the AK.
In addition, there were a lot of hunting rifles—some manual, semi-automatic models, and many shotguns. With all the guns and bullets stacked like mineral water, Jiang Hai couldn't help but think, "No wonder there are so many shootings in the U.S. Is it really safe to display them like this?"
Just as Jiang Hai was feeling overwhelmed, a young man in a red uniform walked over from the counter, smiling at him.
"Is there anything I can help you with?" the young man asked.
"Uh, I'm here to apply for a gun license," Jiang Hai said after a moment.