Chapter 156: Robbery, bad news, and fencing stolen goods

The ding-a-ling doorbell rang. The boss standing behind the counter said without raising his head, "If you intend to buy something, then welcome."

"If you are here to rob, I can only say you are late."

After saying these words, he looked up at the person walking in from the door.

Five young people, wearing hoods, hiding themselves in the hoods.

"Xie Te!" he cursed. "If you intend to rob, just like I said, you are late."

The five young people might have encountered this kind of thing for the first time. One person stood at the door, and the other four entered this shop.

The shop wasn't big, but it wasn't small either, thirty-something square meters, displaying many small commodities, but there was nothing valuable.

They were all commodities that were very common in daily life: candy, letter paper, pencils, some snacks, seasonings, and a small amount of clothes and daily necessities.

Two people walked to the counter. One of the young people took out a half-foot-long dagger from his pocket, signaling him to take out the money box. "I don't want to hurt you."

The boss cursed, but still took out the money box. Inside, there was only a handful of coins left.

Obvious dissatisfaction had already appeared on the young man's face. "Where's the money?"

The boss continued to explain patiently, "Someone came fifty minutes ago. You are late, and you are the third batch..."

This time it was the young man's turn to curse. "Fuck!" He took a look at the coins in the money box. Basically, they were all one or two cents. Things like five cents, ten cents, twenty-five cents and above, including paper money, had already been robbed.

Wasn't the purpose of Taman risking being caught to rob the store to find a way to get some money?

As a result, the money hadn't been gotten, but the risk was borne, which made the young man very dissatisfied.

He put the dagger on the counter, reached out to grab the coins in the money box, and while grabbing, said, "You guys go get some valuable things..."

After listening, the shop boss was stunned for a moment, then shouted loudly, "Hey, you guys have already robbed me. I won't call the police. Now I say, enough!"

Several young people suddenly looked at him. He plucked up his courage. "I was robbed seven times in three days, damn it. Enough, I say!"

"I don't care what gang you guys are from. I haven't called the police once, but now, enough. Don't take my things; those I can still sell for some money."

Anger was hidden in his tone.

The small change was robbed. Although he felt heartache, the heartache was limited.

Those small changes added up to only twenty or thirty dollars robbed. Although it was indeed not little, some commodities in the store, whether from cost or profit, were no worse than what was robbed.

For example, some spices, cheap ones were twenty or thirty cents a pound, expensive ones were a few dollars or even ten-plus dollars a pound. Although there were many poor people in the Imperial District, it didn't mean no one consumed this.

They might consume once a month, or three months, but as long as there was consumption, it meant there was a market and profit.

If they were all taken away by them, the loss wouldn't just be a little money.

There were also a small amount of high-value daily necessities, which also cost twenty or thirty cents each. They could fit a lot in their pockets!

The young man who was putting coins in his pocket grabbed the dagger on the counter and gestured at him. "If you don't want to get hurt, it's best to shut your mouth."

The boss retreated a step and raised his hands. "I don't mean anything else. You guys take some food, drink, and then leave, go to other places to try your luck. I've already been unlucky enough."

The young man who was loading money looked at him deeply, didn't pay attention to him, put the dagger back on the counter, and then continued to load coins.

These coins weren't easy to load. It wasn't that his pocket wasn't big enough, but when grabbing coins, some coins would leak out from his fingertips.

At the same time, some would stick tightly to the bottom or edge of the money box, which wasn't convenient to grab, which made him have to use both hands together in the end.

Although they were all one-cent or two-cent coins, there were also some five-cent ones. Such a small box had at least three or four dollars.

Three or four dollars—isn't that money?

At the same time, two young people looked at the commodities on the shelf that weren't of very high value and felt a bit irritable.

One of the young people casually took a bag of hanging snacks, tore it open, took one out, and chewed it in his mouth.

It was a bit hard, but after saliva soaked this hard thing, he could scrape some soft "meat" from it with his teeth. The taste was okay.

Most importantly, he felt the taste was good, had a very special fragrance, and was very sweet.

He lowered his head and took a look, sharing the food in his hand with his friend. Sharing is a positive spirit, and he was willing to share. "The taste is good, want some?"

His companion looked at him with a very strange look, then bent down and picked up the packaging bag he had torn off. "It says pet food..."

"Xie Te!" He hurriedly spat out what he hadn't swallowed yet, and at the same time threw the thing in his hand on the ground with force. Things like thumb cookies scattered everywhere with a splash.

He snatched the packaging bag from his companion's hand and took a look—sweet potato bone meat mud teething stick.

"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, watching other companions laugh unscrupulously. Even the young man who was buckling coins couldn't help but look back and mock him. He kicked the shelf!

This kind of small shop on the side of the street itself didn't have a large shop area, but needed to operate many categories. Only in this way could it attract enough business. This perhaps was the earliest "one-stop shopping."

So there were commodities on the shelf, and there wasn't too much gap left between the shelves.

When a shelf tilted and fell, hitting another shelf, although the other shelf wasn't affected and fell, many commodities were damaged in the collision and fell to the ground.

Looking at the shelf that tilted and fell to the ground, and those commodities that fell, which might have been broken, the boss's eyes were a bit black.

He couldn't stand these young people!

"Enough... take some you need, and then get out of my damn shop!"

Another young man who was opening a bottle of soda by the counter sprinkled the soda in his hand toward the boss. "It seems you still haven't figured out the situation, MR. Boss."

Several gazes shifted to him. The boss finally calmed down a bit. "You guys just want to take some things and leave. No need to make my place a mess. I've already been cooperative enough."

Just when they intended to continue saying something, suddenly a young man shouted "Hey!" "Look what I found!"

He stood at the other end of the shop, holding a small sack in his hand. Others looked toward him. That was the bag for spices.

"This is spice. My mother will put these things when she burns meat. She told me these things aren't cheap, two or three dollars a pound!"

"There are at least ten-plus pounds here, maybe more!"

The boss's patience had reached the limit. He glanced at the dagger on the counter, and the corner of his eye seemed to notice the young man who had just sprinkled soda toward him looking at him.

He looked up toward the young man. Yes, the other party was looking at him, and also saw his previous action.

The eyes of the two people had a short intersection in the air, and at the same time looked at the dagger placed on the counter.

The young man had an obvious action of lowering his center of gravity, and the boss was closer to that dagger.

He snatched the dagger and held it in both hands. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Now from my shop..."

The young man drinking the beverage directly took out a Magre defense revolver from his pocket and fired a shot at the boss.

After a short astonishment, the pedestrians on the sidewalk screamed and ran away.

In the shop, the boss lowered his head and looked at the wound on his waist and abdomen starting to seep blood. At this moment, he couldn't even feel the slightest pain!

He instinctively covered the wound, retreated two steps, leaned against the wall, and his eyes were as if they had suddenly become empty, sliding down along the wall.

He started to breathe in big mouthfuls. Everything around him seemed unable to affect him anymore!

The young man who was loading money suddenly woke up. He grabbed his companion's hand holding the gun, and he also roared with a shocked face, "Are you crazy?"

"You will kill us!"

"We are just here to rob. If he dies, we will all be on the wanted list."

The young man holding the gun also felt a bit regretful and fearful. Most young people are like this, making impulsive actions without brain thinking at some point, and then regretting what they did.

But he also had his own reasons. "He snatched your dagger. I was afraid he would hurt you."

The two looked at each other for a moment. The young man loading money glanced at the boss, glared at him fiercely again, and then jumped into the counter.

Looking at the boss who seemed to have lost his soul and sat blankly, he was at a loss and wanted to do something to save this damn situation, but didn't know what to do. He could only stand for a few seconds, picked up the dagger on the ground, and jumped out again.

He glanced at other young people who were standing stupidly, and said loudly, "Take the valuable spices you said, we will leave immediately!"

People on the sidewalk didn't know what had happened yet. Some people curiously looked toward this side.

The boss was an old immigrant, already thirty-something years old, opening this small shop here, and could be considered a person with a small reputation on the whole street.

He was a good person, had the characteristics of Imperial immigrants, rarely argued with people, and often took the initiative to retreat when encountering trouble.

This gave him a very good harmless image. People liked to associate with harmless people, because they knew they wouldn't be suddenly stabbed by an honest person.

Now something obviously happened in his shop. Some people who had a good relationship with him were a bit worried.

Just when they didn't know what happened and intended to figure out what happened, five young people suddenly rushed out of the shop.

They were carrying different linen bags of different sizes in their hands. One of them had too much force under his feet when running out, and his leather shoes opened.

His feet slipped out from the opening of the thread, which caused his center of gravity to be unstable, and he fell.

The bag in his hand fell to the ground, and a large handful of spices spilled out. He was still preparing to stuff these spices back, but his companion grabbed him and told him to leave quickly.

Also in this process, his hood was lifted, letting some people see what he looked like.

Someone in the crowd knew him. The Imperial District sounded big, but in reality, it wasn't big.

According to official statistics that weren't necessarily correct, the entire Imperial District was about 150,000 people. Imperial people occupied 130,000, and there were 20,000 federal people or immigrants from other places.

Having so many populations didn't mean there were so many families. In fact, if calculated according to at least two people being a family, then the Imperial District had at most 75,000 families.

But here, obviously, it was impossible to have so many families. Many families had more than two people, like Mr. Burton's family. He and his wife divorced, and there were still three people.

Some families even had three generations, which was five or six people, or even seven or eight.

So the ten-plus thousand people in the Imperial District, if calculated by "family" as a unit, had thirty-something thousand families.

In this area that wasn't spacious, everyone basically knew each other.

Five young people left quickly. Someone curiously entered the shop and saw the boss sitting against the wall, already bleeding a large pool...

Seven or eight minutes later, the boss was sent to the ambulance. His luck was considered okay, at least his life was saved.

But his luck wasn't very good either. The medical expenses became his new bad news after being shot.

Before the doctor pushed him into the rescue room, he specifically asked if he had the ability to pay.

If he had, then they would do their best to rescue, because every kind of rescue means, every doctor and nurse who participated, would add some weight to the final bill.

Even if the nurse or doctor who went in just stood by and was in a daze, they would get a "rescue subsidy," and this subsidy, obviously, wasn't given to them by the hospital.

But if he didn't have the ability to pay, then in the end, it might be "very regrettable."

After three hours of rescue, he lived, but two-thirds of his liver was removed, and at the same time, he still owed the hospital more than three thousand dollars.

After deducting his insurance.

After ten o'clock in the evening, a young man with a cigarette in his mouth came to the door on the side of the road. He looked back and forth, no one followed him, and then he opened the door and walked in.

This was a small house, only one room, with two beds inside, and four young people.

When they saw the young man, while feeling relieved, they were also a bit nervous.

The young man who fired the gun during the day asked nervously, "Was he saved?"

The young man who robbed the money nodded. "He was saved, the person didn't die."

The other four people all felt relieved.

This good news made them all sleep well tonight, sleeping until almost noon the next day.

After they woke up, they thought about cashing out these spices. After discussion, someone proposed that he knew an antique shop that collected this.

In the Federation, antique shop roughly meant the synonym for "second-hand commodity recycling shop" and "fencing point." Here, they wouldn't ask where your things came from, but would only give you a price that was low to the point of being outrageous.

Buy or not is their tenet. Of course, their reasons were also very sufficient—if you can take out the proof when you bought this thing, and sign a trading agreement with me, promising that all possible losses, and all legal responsibilities are borne by you.

Then, they can give a slightly higher price.

But who the hell would keep those things, and still sign such a document?

For some people who were in a hurry to sell stolen goods, this place seemed to be one of the few places that didn't care whether the things in their hands were clean or not.

Five young people just entered the door, and heard the sound of weapons being loaded.

The boss wearing a flower headscarf stood behind the counter. On the counter was a rifle they didn't quite recognize. The boss's hand was grabbing the connection between the gun stock and the gun body.

He could lift it up and shoot at any time. Even so, he still looked at them with vigilance and caution, introducing the weapon in his hand with the tone of introducing commodities.

"Stuart deer hunting gun, built-in ammunition supply structure. People who are proficient in this thing can fire three shots in one second."

"And I, happen to be a person who is familiar with it."

"There is a deer hunting gun loaded with bullets here, but you only have five people."

The young people finally understood the meaning of this boss. Although they indeed didn't have a plan to rob the antique shop.

This was actually a very interesting thing, especially in the Federation.

Many people would rob shops on the side of the road or even pedestrians, and send the things robbed to the antique shop to cash out. So why didn't they go to rob the antique shop from the beginning?

This perhaps was another unsolved mystery!

They slowly raised their hands. The young man standing at the very front swallowed a mouthful of saliva. "Sir, we are here to sell things."

The old man glanced at them, thinking about some remarks that had spread in the Imperial District last night, and some things that happened this morning, and he raised his chin.

"Let your people leave, you stay with the things you want to sell. This is the rule here. I don't receive a group of people at the same time."

The young man considered it and agreed.

Then ten-plus linen bags were placed on the counter. The strong smell of spices suddenly filled the whole room.

The boss with the flower headscarf fanned the floating spice dust with his hand while coughing and checking these things.

"How much are they worth?" the young man asked a bit uneasily.

The boss with the flower headscarf looked at these things and already knew they were the things robbed yesterday. He said calmly, "I need to check. I'm old and can't remember the prices of these commodities. They are written in a notebook of mine."

"But I estimated it. There are about twenty pounds here. At least fifty dollars is worth it."

A smile appeared on the young man's face. "Then what are we waiting for?"

The boss with the flower headscarf smiled meaningfully. "Wait for me a while, I'll go see their prices..."

He went to the back carrying the gun. He wasn't too afraid that the things in the shop would be taken away by these guys. Those were all imitations and weren't valuable.

Valuable things weren't in the front.

He came to the back, picked up the phone, and dialed a number.

After the phone was connected, he said to the other end of the phone, "The person who beat the grocery store boss yesterday is selling the stolen goods they robbed in my shop..." ===== CHAPTER 157 =====