[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-shadow-empire":3,"chapter-the-shadow-empire-the-shadow-empire-chapter-114":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Shadow Empire",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2267734,4428,"Chapter 114","the-shadow-empire-chapter-114",114,"\u003Cp>Alberto thought for a moment, pulled out twenty dollars, and placed them on the counter; the woman inside took the money and placed a box containing four rows of coins on the counter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her gaze landed on Lans’s face—he was her type.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her hands gripped the edges of her corset, as if she could lift it at any moment, “Want a look?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans averted his eyes, “Thanks, but no.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The woman whistled, flashed him a quick glimpse, then pulled it back, “Too bad—I’m showing you anyway!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Alberto chuckled, picked up the money box, and slung an arm around Lans’s shoulders as they walked on, “Ignore her—as long as you don’t sleep with her, you’re safe.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But if you do, trouble comes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t say what kind of trouble, and Lans didn’t ask; they walked through the corridor and stopped before a closed door, from which the unmistakable atmosphere and noise of a bar seeped through the crack.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The moment it opened, dim fluorescent lights and pulsing music flooded the air, injecting a force straight into people’s veins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The space was huge—at least two thousand square feet—with over a dozen stages, three bars, and nearly every inch filled with people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girls danced vigorously on stage, their movements artistic; when spotlights swept across them, they revealed greasy, healthy skin that stirred wild, primal urges deep within.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The interplay of light and shadow was a battlefield of desire and reason; patrons on the edges hurled coins onto the stage, some even tossing handfuls of one-dollar bills.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girls were top-tier—completely out of the league of cheap bars—in looks, physique, skin, and dance skill, they dominated utterly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Alberto and Lans reached the bar; Fodis was already inside helping. Someone saw Alberto approach, embraced him, then cleared two seats.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Two whiskeys—Golden Label Napoli!” He glanced at Lans, who rolled his eyes at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bartender, unaware of the backstory, poured two glasses quickly. Alberto pulled out five dollars and handed them over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Two fifty?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What else?” Alberto lifted his glass, took a sip; three ice cubes had already dulled the burn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even without ice, Golden Label wasn’t unbearable—but people here were used to ice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans picked up his glass and took a small sip, studying the drink in his hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d sold this bottle—eleven dollars—to Mr. Pasreto, and now it was being sold here for two fifty—how much pure profit was that?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A 750ml bottle of Golden Label Napoli yields about eleven servings; counting eleven servings, that’s twenty-seven fifty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pure profit: roughly seventeen dollars—a 150% margin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He raised an eyebrow, feeling for the first time the massive profits prohibition brought to the gray economy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How many bottles do you sell in one night?” Lans asked, curious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bartender glanced at Alberto, who gave a slight nod; the bartender leaned in and whispered, low enough for only Lans and Alberto to hear, “It varies—maybe fifty to sixty, I’m not sure yet, it’s new.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Even if popularity dips later, we still sell thirty to forty a day.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Four to five hundred drinks—this is the Bay Area, there’s no shortage of money.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As long as the bar keeps its appeal, two fifty a glass is nothing to them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just from Golden Label Napoli alone, daily pure profit here runs over a thousand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Later, even five or six hundred a day—over ten thousand a month.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Add in all the other liquors, and the beer—ten or fifteen cents outside, fifty cents here—and they could make thousands, even tens of thousands in one night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the first time, he grasped viscerally how profitable an underground bar could be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Regret it?” Alberto watched Lans’s thoughtful expression. “Honestly, I’m stunned by the profits here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You know, I watch over hundreds of thousands daily, terrified of a single mistake—I’ve been losing hair lately—and how much have I actually made?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But look at this…” He turned, gesturing to the whole room, his gaze sweeping from the wild faces of the patrons back to Lans’s, “They spend five, ten, even dozens of dollars here every night!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s insane!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans nodded in agreement—it truly was.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Alberto leaned closer, “Right now, running a bar is more profitable than any other business.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans pondered, “But we can’t replicate this. Mr. Pasreto has social ties in the Bay Area—people come here to spend. If we opened a bar like this in the Empire District or the Harbor District, how many could afford two fifty a glass?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides, we can't find a space this large, and we can't make the branch office ignore us.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This needs more thought—but it’s profitable, no doubt.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing only the thief eat meat, never seeing him get beaten—that’s short-sighted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Right now, here, many probably only notice how much profit this bar brings Mr. Pasreto daily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They ignore how much he spends maintaining his social connections.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even some with money, wanting to pay, aren’t accepted—once you reach a certain level, these people don’t take just any cash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most bars now are in basements—narrow, cramped, poorly ventilated, and feel dangerous.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How many rich people would go there to get drunk and have fun?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With few alternatives, this place’s popularity was inevitable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like those awful street snacks at the alley’s mouth—everyone knows they taste bad, yet business is booming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many don’t understand: these businesses fill a gap, and leave no alternatives.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When someone else opens a similar snack stall with slightly better taste, the original one dies—same with bars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans believed more well-connected bars would soon open in the Bay Area, splitting foot traffic, and this place’s business wouldn’t stay this good.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How much would remain? Unknown—could be good, could be bad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After thinking it over, Alberto agreed Lans had a point; they stopped discussing opening a bar and turned to the entertainment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From Lans’s view, the bar still had room for improvement—there were too few girls.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that was normal—nights were dangerous for girls, especially in places like this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most girls went home before seven and didn’t come out again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even streetwalkers dared not stay past eight—otherwise, they’d be beaten senseless by nightfall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So there were too few women here—only those brought by patrons or clustered around the stage, which didn’t help sales.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You had to make guests feel like they’d stumbled upon a chance encounter, turning their “I’ll just buy one for myself” mindset into “I’ll buy two, one for me and one for my girl”—whether they were thinking or just horny, it doubled revenue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he wouldn’t say it—cheaper things grow cheaper in people’s minds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only what’s hard-won, what’s sought after, becomes treasured.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The second floor was all private rooms—about four to five square meters each—with a single sofa, a round table like a stage, and a door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the small red light by the door lit up, it meant someone was inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These were for bosses who didn’t want to mix with the crowd below—Jason, who’d once competed to hold his breath at the bottom of Angel Lake, had tried them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans noticed nearly every door on the second floor glowed red; someone would exit, and another would enter, the light relighting instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After watching a while, Alberto pulled Lans to be a “dog Tuo ”—they found the stage surrounded by the most people and began tossing coins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whenever someone tried to draw the dancer’s attention, Alberto threw money on stage, provoking drunk patrons into competing with him!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The urge to be top spender far outweighed alcohol’s effect; with alcohol added, Lans watched only a moment before seeing several big spenders start tossing paper bills.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’d crumple the bills into balls and throw them at the dancer—but only paper bills could be done this way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone once tried tossing coins the same way and got beaten by the bouncers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Having successfully stirred up tempers, he slipped away quietly—damn, he wasn’t a good guy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bar’s atmosphere was excellent; Lans drank two glasses—at least four ounces, over 120 milliliters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Probably because of the ice, he felt no alcohol’s effect while drinking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only after forty to fifty minutes did he begin to feel slightly drunk…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morning sunlight streamed through the window into the room; Lans stretched in bed, then turned to try sleeping more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d returned home past eleven—still people in the bar; Alberto stayed to rest, invited Lans to stay too, but Lans refused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t that he disliked Alberto—he just didn’t want to get too close to his friends, or be labeled “Mr. Pasreto’s man.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t want to be anyone’s man—he was himself, and he wanted to become a flag, not someone’s follower.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His memory after returning home was only Ethan helping him upstairs, then nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He suddenly opened his eyes, saw he was wearing only underwear, sat up, and rubbed his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hope it wasn’t Ethan who took off his clothes…\u003C\u002Fp>",1459,"2026-06-19T21:10:27.799Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","55d11fe0fffab6a63f1f9eba32b13351e8990bd1bbfc62f72d11233a1835486f","the-shadow-empire-chapter-115","the-shadow-empire-chapter-113",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-shadow-empire-cover.jpg"]