Chapter 123: Mutual Surveillance and Nighttime Action

Officer Lu Ka’s “stirring up the grass to scare the snake” had a significant effect; the next day, Lans arranged several teams to scour the Empire District for Weier ’s whereabouts.

To immigrants in the Empire District, Lans might still be just an unremarkable young man known to only a few.

But Weier was undoubtedly a well-known figure—people despised him, hated him, and feared him.

No one wanted to attract the attention of these people, so they all memorized the names of Camila Gang’s officers.

Yet there was no major breakthrough; he had vanished from the Empire District as if he never existed, and in the end, Lans could only dispatch people to monitor the places where Weier was most likely to appear.

As soon as they spotted him, contact him immediately.

Meanwhile, they also noticed individuals suspected of belonging to the Camila Gang appearing around the agency, indicating that Enio’s whereabouts had been exposed.

Lans had long suspected this; even Officer Lu Ka knew Weier was hunting him, and since Weier had made no effort to hide, Weier would surely find him.

Now both sides were competing to see who would make the first mistake and who could hide better.

Since being discovered, Lans had ordered everyone to sleep at the company at night, minimizing solo outings and denying the enemy any opportunity.

For two or three days, no one could go out; everyone was coiled tight with tension.

The Camila Gang’s headquarters was on a street in the northwest of the Empire District, originally a nightclub called “Empire Night.”

It had once been one of the top entertainment venues in the Empire District, offering every imaginable pleasure—countless cigarettes, alcohol, women, and everything else.

Though still bustling, it had lost its former glory due to prohibition.

After all, compared to other expensive luxuries, cigarettes and alcohol had become relatively accessible forms of entertainment.

Moreover, alcohol was the fastest and most effective stimulant, quickly putting people into the right mood.

In the fourth-floor office, Camila Gang’s boss Heler sat in a broad, worn leather chair, slowly toasting his cigar; sunlight streamed through rows of windows, and fine dust motes danced in the beams.

Dust lingered in the corners of the aged floorboards, seemingly impossible to clean—yet that was where the dust belonged.

Sunlight, dust, the mounted animal heads on the walls—all were sealed off from the noise outside, forming an isolated world where time itself seemed to slow.

In the silent room, one could barely hear the faint sizzle of the flame licking the cigar, the subtle crackling of the tobacco as it burned and warped.

No one spoke; even breathing seemed to have stopped.

After toasting his cigar, Heler drew a deep puff; the rich aroma of nuts and a faint sweetness filled his mouth as he savored the exquisite sensation.

Nicotine particles in the smoke clung to his oral mucosa as he swirled the smoke in his mouth, swiftly absorbed and acting directly on his brain.

Just one drag brought him relief and comfort; he looked up at Weier , who sat on a distant sofa, staring at him for a long while.

For the past month, Weier had gone mad—ignoring all gang business, obsessed with hunting down the man who killed his brother.

Some had begun to complain, since Weier ’s duties had been redistributed to others.

The Camila Gang had been busy lately; everyone was stretched thin, which was why Heler had called Weier in for a talk.

It was time to stop.

Heler was a middle-aged man; his registered federal records listed his age as forty-seven, yet he looked slightly younger.

Even indoors, he wore tinted silver-rimmed glasses; his parted, slightly tousled hair was meticulously combed and slicked with wax, gleaming with oil.

He wore a patterned shirt, no vest, over a loose-fitting light-gray suit clearly styled in federal fashion.

When sunlight occasionally caught his gold watch, a flash of gold reflected off the ceiling.

He opened his mouth, exhaling thick smoke through slightly yellowed teeth, his voice following: “ Weier , you’ve refused every assignment the gang has given you lately.”

“I know your brother is dead, and you’re grieving—I too feel sorrow for Kent. He was a fine young man.”

“But he’s been gone long enough; you must let go. Life goes on. Work goes on.”

“You’ve had more than enough time off. It’s time to return to duty.”

Heler pushed his right eyebrow with the pad of his middle finger, his palm shielding his expression: “Tomorrow, a shipment of alcohol arrives from outside. The ship won’t dock—meet it at sea and bring it in.”

“Everyone else has their own tasks. You’re the only one free right now, so I’m assigning this to you.”

“Take your men, retrieve the cargo, and deliver it to our warehouse on the outskirts.”

“Be discreet—though we’ve already secured the Harbor Division and Coast Guard, caution is still necessary.”

Alcohol prices had skyrocketed, yet overseas prices hadn’t changed; every gang, family, and criminal syndicate had taken notice.

Since the President announced nationwide prohibition, countless cargo ships had set sail for the Federation, loaded with alcohol.

Even though the Camila Gang primarily dealt in extortion, with alcohol prices this inflated, they had no qualms about smuggling.

Seeing Weier say nothing, Heler assumed his silence meant agreement: “This shipment is worth two hundred thousand. If we sell it, we’ll get at least three hundred fifty thousand.”

“This is our first transaction with them. Once we establish better distribution channels, profits will keep growing…”

Heler was still pondering how to expand distribution; in Jingang City, he couldn’t compete with the Five Families, but beyond the city lay numerous satellite towns and secondary markets.

Those were his dumping grounds too.

As he imagined his alcohol empire rising, Weier suddenly spoke: “Three days.”

Heler didn’t react at first. “What?”

“What three days?”

Weier looked up. “Give me three more days. I’ve found the man who killed my brother. I need time to prepare, then I’ll kill him.”

“Three days. By then, I’ll deliver the shipment to your designated location.”

Behind his tinted lenses, his eyes gleamed with menace. “Are you refusing me?”

Weier shook his head. “No. I’m asking—just three more days. No, two. The day after tomorrow, I’ll resolve everything and deliver the goods. I guarantee no slip-ups.”

“If there are any, I’ll bear all responsibility.”

Heler pressed his hand against the armrest, the cigar spinning between his fingers. “ Weier , I understand how you feel.”

“My father, my uncles, my siblings—many of them are dead.”

“I loved them. I wanted revenge. But we must first protect ourselves.”

Weier remained unmoved by Heler’s veiled warning. “I had only one family left. Now he’s gone. Every day, I’m tormented.”

“I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Kent in the morgue—making me sad, furious, and damn sick!”

“Heler, I’ve never asked you for anything before!”

Eyes are windows to the soul; Heler hid his emotions behind his tinted glasses, drew another puff, waited over ten seconds, then nodded. “I’ll assign someone else. Go get your revenge.”

“But Weier , this is the last time.”

He pointed at Weier . “And you won’t get a share of the profit this time.”

Weier exhaled. “Thank you. I promise, there won’t be another.”

After Weier left, Heler sat still for a long while before picking up the phone and dialing another officer: “Come to my office…”

For Heler, money was everything. He was deeply disappointed in Weier .

As for Weier himself?

He didn’t care. All he wanted now was revenge.

As Weier stepped out of the nightclub, his subordinate standing by the car tossed his cigarette and opened the door.

Once inside, Weier asked: “Have you found Enio?”

The man in the front passenger seat nodded. “Yes. Enio’s been holed up in that labor agency all day.”

“It’s full of their people—he rarely goes alone. We haven’t spotted any opportunity in the past few days.”

The Camila Gang started with kidnappings; its members weren’t experts, but they all knew surveillance and reconnaissance.

They even infiltrated the agency to observe, yet never found a chance.

The car pulled out of the nightclub’s parking lot; Weier looked agitated. “How many usually move together?”

“About ten or so—and they all look dangerous.”

Weier punched the seat in front of him. “I don’t care how dangerous they are…”

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Strike directly. Whoever gets in the way—kill them.”

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “ Weier , someone’s following us.”

Weier knew Officer Lu Ka had agents tailing him—boldly, openly. He hated it, but he couldn’t afford to kill police just yet.

These were homicide detectives, not patrolmen; the cost of killing them would be far higher.

“Let them follow.”

It gave him a moment to cool down. “Do they sleep at the agency too?”

The front passenger shook his head. “They’ve probably noticed us. For the past two nights, they haven’t left at all. We don’t know which room they’re in.”

Weier looked at his watch. It was already afternoon.

Recalling Heler’s Buman and threats today, Weier weighed his options, then decided: no more waiting. He’d strike tonight.

“When we get back, call everyone to a meeting.”

Behind Weier ’s car, a plainclothes officer frowned. “Do we have other officers tailing them?”

His partner shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

Since Weier brutally killed Kent’s mistress, Lu Ka had ordered all surveillance teams to operate in pairs, armed.

He couldn’t risk Weier targeting officers—they’d already killed powerful figures; killing cops wouldn’t be hard for him.

Two people were safer.

Their car was farther back, but they clearly noticed someone else following Weier —this puzzled them.

The passenger pulled out a notebook. “I’ll write down the license plate. Tomorrow, I’ll check it at the station.”

“That’s all we can do.”

Weier ’s car reached the southwest of the Empire District, where the environment was better—this was where the Empire District’s finest neighborhoods and villas lay.

After entering a villa compound, the car that had been following Weier didn’t stop—it drove straight on.

This left the two officers behind puzzled: Could it… just be coincidence?

They weren’t sure, but they’d report it and investigate the license plate.

Now, their job was to openly watch Weier , so their car entered the community and parked directly across from Weier ’s private road.

The gang member assigned to guard the gate immediately told Weier about the two men; Weier cursed twice and told him to ignore it, not giving it another thought.

He understood Lukaer ’s intent—to use him to find the killer of his brother.

This was also one of the reasons he was in such a hurry!

What if that Ainiao , under pressure, suddenly decided to turn himself in and was protected by Lukaer ? His brother would have died for nothing!

Could he just storm into the Jincheng City Police Department and kill Ainiao ?

Maybe there was a one-in-ten-thousand chance at the precinct, but at the city headquarters, it was practically impossible.

He had to eliminate this bastard before Ainiao became alert or took action, and before Officer Lukaer moved—so time was critical.

As for this surveillance so close it was almost face-to-face, he could only pretend not to see it; perhaps Officer Lukaer now hoped he’d make a mistake to keep him occupied.

At a fork in the public road outside the community, Molisi got out of his car and walked into a nearby phone booth.

He inserted a two-cent coin, heard the prompt, and dialed the office’s number.

“I’ve followed him all the way; now he’s at Senhu Mountain Villa—I saw him go in… good…”

Moments later, he hung up, stepped out of the phone booth, and lit a cigarette.

Then he glanced left and right, slipped back into the car, and drove it to a stop beside the villa’s main gate.

At the office, Lansi hung up the phone; the office had already closed early, and the room was filled with their own people.

“ Molisi has found him—he’s at Senhu Mountain Villa.”

Lansi looked around at the people there; no one flinched, not even Xiaoen .

He lit a cigarette. “He’s found us. The men watching us these past two days prove it—and we’ve found him.”

“We’re now face-to-face. It’s a matter of who strikes first.”

“Whoever strikes first gains the advantage—catching them off guard before they expect it.”

He paused. “Does anyone know Senhu Mountain Villa?”

Ainiao raised his hand. “I know it.”

Ainiao was a legal immigrant who had lived here for many years; Jincheng’s fastest growth occurred over the past two decades, so his familiarity with the area was unsurprising.

Senhu Mountain Villa was a real estate speculator’s project—the company had tried to promote a “New Bay Area” concept. Since it was already near the coast, and further west lay a beach, they thought it plausible.

But clearly, there weren’t many rich fools; people preferred to keep developing the Bay Area, not some “New Bay Area.”

The “New Bay Area” concept vanished quickly, leaving only a few upscale housing projects in underdeveloped regions.

Now, these villas and upscale communities housed only the middle class—no true billionaires.

And the house Lan Sand his team had just bought was actually two streets north of Senhu Mountain Villa—on the map, they were neighbors with Weier !

“...The occupancy rate here is low; many houses are still listed for sale with real estate agents.”

Ainiao shrugged. “My father used to check those listings—he always thought he’d one day afford one.”

The rich didn’t want to live here; those who wanted to couldn’t afford it. That was the cost of failed speculation.

After Ainiao finished speaking, the room fell silent, broken only by the sound of people continuously smoking.

After a few minutes, Lan Stossed his cigarette to the floor and ground it out with his toe. “We move tonight.”

No one objected; he began assigning tasks—who rode with whom, who carried which weapon.

Meanwhile, Weier sat on the sofa in the lobby, the room thick with smoke; he smoked one cigarette after another. His men had all arrived—over thirty of them.

The Camila Gang claimed a total membership of over two thousand, though this included peripheral members who weren’t even involved in crime.

The core members numbered fewer than three hundred.

They had six senior officers, plus Hailei and the organizational department—eight or nine core figures dividing up these members.

On average, each senior officer controlled only thirty to forty core members.

They had to cover all expenses for these people, so sometimes it wasn’t that they didn’t want to expand—they simply didn’t have the money to expand without limits.

When most of them had arrived, Weier looked slowly over each face, took a deep breath, and said, “We move tonight.”