Chapter 192: A Suggestion and Collecting Debts

"Hi, Lanse, it's Bill."

Bill wanted to create a relaxed context, as the following matter was difficult to bring up, so his tone was very cheerful, lacking the composure and presence of a gang boss.

It actually fit his previous profession quite well: a pimp.

"Hi, Bill. I've heard of you, if you are the person I've heard of."

"Yes, that's the one. Red Dog Gang."

Bill's tone wasn't aggressive; it might even have made people feel he was a bit soft.

The death of Helle had softened many people's attitudes toward Lanse and his group. They no longer treated Lanse and his people like a neighborhood family, but as a gang of the same rank.

After all, Helle had personally proven this point, paying the price with his life.

Lanse opened his rosewood cigarette case and took out a cigarette. His finger pressed the desktop lighter.

It was a desktop lighter depicting a soldier in a kneeling position, preparing to fire, with two indigenous corpses lying beside him.

As Lanse pressed the lighter's button, sparks sprayed from the gun barrel, followed by a flame.

It was a high-end lighter with a bit of dark humor. When buying it, the shopkeeper had warned Lanse not to use it in the reservation unless he felt his scalp was a bit itchy.

He hadn't bought this desktop lighter out of dark humor or typical federal arrogance; he just hoped to use it to remind himself:

If one day he felt satisfied with everything he possessed, he would become the one lying down.

Only by constantly striving and acting as the hunter could he avoid eventually becoming the prey.

"Bill, we aren't very familiar. I can't find much to talk about with you, so to avoid awkwardness, just say what you want to say."

Bill wasn't dissatisfied upon hearing this; instead, he felt Lanse was actually quite a decent person—very straightforward.

"I'll be direct then. Recently, our bars have been affected by yours. Sales have become very poor, so I hope you can raise your liquor prices or stay further away from our bars."

Perhaps to avoid an overly blunt context, he even brought up the current liquor prices, "Your liquor is too cheap. There's no need to do that."

"If you raise your liquor prices, your income will be two, or even three or four times what it is now."

"We're all here to make money. There's no need to go against money, right?"

Lanse chuckled twice, "I can't do that."

Bill couldn't believe his ears, "I'm not saying you should give up your business; I'm just suggesting you raise the prices. It won't hurt you!"

"Even if you have fewer customers, you'll still earn more than you do now!"

Lanse replied after he finished, "I know, but I still refuse."

Bill's brain wasn't working right, "Why?"

Lanse didn't answer directly; he needed to give Bill a little inspiration, "I heard you used to be a pimp, the most powerful pimp in the Port District."

Faced with Lanse's sudden flattery, Bill, though wary, couldn't help but admit, "Haha, that's true. As long as you want a girl, I can find one for you."

"Then you must know that if someone else's place has cheaper girls, and the quality isn't much worse, you'll be in a tough spot."

Only then did Bill realize that Lanse was using this method to tell him why he wasn't willing to lower his prices.

Because he had done similar things before. For the rich, a little more or a little less didn't matter.

But for the poor, they would always have "cost-effectiveness" on their lips.

They consider cost-effectiveness when buying a house, when buying furniture, when marrying a wife, and even when spending money to buy pleasure, they consider cost-effectiveness!

They would rather walk four kilometers just to save a little money that the rich couldn't imagine—five cents, ten cents.

"You want to drive us out?" A sudden sense of annoyance followed, "Are you trying to provoke a new war?"

Lanse didn't admit to this, "This is business competition. The Imperial District is too crowded. I need to advise you instead, Bill."

"Liquor prices are rising rapidly now. This is a good opportunity to make money."

"How much does one of your girls earn for you in a day?"

"They aren't those expensive golden retrievers from the Bay District. You can't sell them at the price of a golden retriever."

"But think about it, how much can a bottle of liquor earn you!"

"Big Poli's liquor was just destroyed. The Port District's liquor market is facing a semi-vacuum. Instead of focusing your attention here, you should pull your strength back and go compete properly with Poli in the Port District."

"He has no liquor, and you do. He can't be your opponent."

"I can guarantee that as long as you haven't left the Imperial District, my liquor prices won't rise; instead, they will fall. I will make sure you don't earn a single cent."

"If you want to start a war, we can try, but I advise you not to do so."

Although Bill was very angry, he was already trying to calm down.

He wasn't the type of leader who rose to power through killing and fighting. If it were Big Poli, he would already be slamming the table and shouting about killing Lanse to teach him a lesson.

Pimping also requires a bit of wisdom. He was considering the feasibility of what Lanse had said.

The sex trade in the Port District wasn't easy to do, or rather, throughout the entire Federation, the sex trade for the poor wasn't very profitable.

This refers to the very direct sex trade, not the work in strip clubs.

The five dollars spent in a strip club isn't just for a blowjob; the dancer will also perform a hot dance for about thirty minutes, teasing every cell in your body until you're trembling, and only then will she give you a good service, letting you have a good time.

Five dollars for forty minutes—this price is quite reasonable. A private space, better service and enjoyment; it's worth the money.

But for the direct sex trade—on the roadside, at the corner—two dollars. You can't expect someone with a monthly income of only thirty-something dollars to spend a lot of money to solve a problem that can be solved by hand.

Some who come out alone to take private jobs are willing to do it for one dollar; some older ones will do it as long as there's money.

And these girls themselves are here to make money. The Red Dog Gang is only responsible for their safety and helping them solicit customers, and can only take a portion of the profit—about forty to sixty percent, not all of it.

To date, there are almost no criminal organizations in the Federation that rely entirely on operating the bottom-tier sex trade for profit. It's not that they aren't smart enough to think of it, but it really isn't that profitable.

Red Heels doesn't count, because they aren't just doing the simple sex trade; they are actually doing human trafficking, and they are doing business in the Bay District.

"Think about it carefully. Once Poli gets more liquor, your situation will be very bad."

Lanse hung up the phone directly, leaving Bill lost in thought and feeling very annoyed.

Although Helle wasn't a good person, from Bill's perspective, he wasn't actually bad.

A neighbor who had lost the idea of continuing to expand was definitely better than another mad dog, but now this new Lanse wasn't the old Helle; he had his own ideas.

Unifying the Imperial District—this thought appeared in Bill's mind. He could guess Lanse's purpose.

If a gang could unify an entire administrative district, then this gang would have reached the same level as the Five Great Families.

Even if he still lacked some foundation, in the underground world of Jincheng, he would become a rising star.

Bill felt a bit envious in his heart. After all, he was old too, and like Helle, he had lost the drive to forge ahead.

But he wasn't willing to just hand over the Imperial District territory to Lanse.

He still had to discuss it with others, but one thing was certain: competition for liquor in the Imperial District would become increasingly fierce...

After Lanse hung up the phone, he shook his head slightly. Perhaps this was the true portrayal of "those who stand firm through violence are more ferocious the younger they are, but the older they get, the more cowardly they become."

Simply put, those who have nothing are always the most unscrupulous. When they obtain the life they want through these behaviors, they begin to fear—fear that one day they will suddenly die and be unable to enjoy their good life anymore!

Whether it was Helle or Bill, they were both "long-famous" gang leaders who had left their glorious era in this city.

But look at them now; they were all aging, no longer full of drive like they were in their youth.

On the contrary, the younger generation, such as that group of young people in the Brother Gang, are fierce and rarely take the initiative to compromise. They are the stars on the stage of this new era.

From this, Lanse was considering a question: Do the Five Great Families still have absolute control over this city as they did in the past?

But now wasn't the time for him to consider this. He had paid a large amount of money to the Liji Group, and he had no money now—no clean money. He had to get some money.

He shouted for Hiram, who soon ran over and pushed open the door.

Hiram had lost some weight recently, which made his face look longer. It is said that he had a girl he liked and was in the middle of a passionate love affair.

For those gentlemen who wore decent clothes and entered the upper class, gang members were just the most lowly bottom-tier of society.

But for some people at the bottom, gang members were the most impressive people!

No one dared to bully them casually; this was being impressive!

"Boss?" He pushed the door open and poked his head in, looking confused.

Lanse beckoned for him to come in, "Do you have any work to do these days?"

Hiram shook his head. He had nothing to do these days. Enio had come out of prison and was now trying to perform actively to make up for the guilt he felt for not being there.

The Lanse family had experienced a test of blood and fire. He hadn't been able to participate because of his own stupidity, and he was in pain inside, wanting to make up for something.

So he grabbed whatever work there was, and Elvin's meaning was to let him stay busy, otherwise he wouldn't be able to vent his emotions and would cause trouble.

"Perfect. We're out of money. I plan to clear up the debt from Jobav's side. Find two more people, and we'll leave at any time."

He turned to the safe. This safe only contained a portion of the debts. He picked out one of them.

A person called "Taide Trading" had borrowed twenty-five thousand from his side. According to the repayment date on it, the money should have been returned before September of last year.

But until now, the other party had no intention of returning the money.

This IOU had their phone number and name on it. Lanse dialed the number directly.

Hiram, who had just gone out, had already returned and brought two newcomers. He was very keen on bringing in newcomers. Lanse held the phone in one hand and pressed his other hand down, signaling them to sit. The three of them walked to the sofa and sat down quietly.

After about ten seconds, the call was connected.

"Is Mr. Taide available to take the call?"

"I'm a friend of his... Okay, no problem."

After about ten seconds, the voice in the receiver sounded again, but only Lanse could hear it, "I'm Taide. Who are you?"

"Mr. Taide, in June of 1023 (the year before last), you borrowed a debt from Jin Da Bank, twenty-five thousand."

"According to your IOU, you should have returned the principal of twenty-five thousand and the interest of three thousand seven hundred and fifty before September of last year, but you didn't do so."

The voice on the opposite side suddenly became a bit aggressive, "Who the f*** are you?"

"Listen, either you let Jobav come to me, or you stay out of this, understand?"

"This isn't something a young person like you can handle. Don't f***ing call me again, or I'll have someone beat you up!"

Without waiting for Lanse to say anything, the phone was slammed onto the base by the other party, and the sound of a disconnected line came from the receiver.

Lanse looked at the phone in his hand and then at the three of them, spreading his hands slightly, "It seems he needs a little help. Once I find out the location of this trading firm, we'll go give him a surprise."

Lanse dialed the telegraph office and asked the operator to check the location of Taide Trading.

The telegraph office supported this service. They hadn't even realized the value of "privacy" at this time. In a public phone booth, one could look up personal phone numbers through a phone book full of advertisements.

Of course, calling the telegraph office directly also worked. Soon, the address of Taide Trading was sent to Lanse's side. This trading firm was in Pulicia, not far from them.

The boss of Taide Trading was named Taide, and he operated a lumber company.

He had his own logging permit. This was his "showroom." His main work was to sell this wood to those middle-class people who had the need to build their own houses.

This was a big business and could also provide wood for federal houses, especially detached houses. Some communities even required residents to use wood materials to build houses.

On one hand, wood-structured houses had a two-hundred-year history in the Federation and had developed a complete set of operational standards.

The so-called "self-built house" was actually buying a super-large set of building blocks, assembling them according to the manual, which could satisfy the middle class and some of the wealthy class's nostalgia for their ancestors' foothold in the Federation.

Of course, the poor wouldn't have this kind of sentiment, because even their ancestors weren't necessarily living in such exquisite wooden houses; they might have slept in places like stables.

Short construction time, low cost, low difficulty in operation, and many other advantages made people like this approach very much.

And on the other hand, wooden houses had become "one of the spiritual symbols of the Federation" because this was tradition.

Although it wasn't clear why the word "tradition" could be used for things that only happened two hundred years ago, the fact that only building wooden houses made one a federal citizen had begun to become a consensus in federal society.

Just like they still had many strange habits, and even food had to be divided into "federal meals" and "immigrant meals," which was a bit confusing.

But once it really became a social consensus, people actually had no other choice but to comply and automatically become a part of this invisible wall.

Not letting people outside come in, and not letting people inside go out.

According to incomplete statistics, except for buildings like apartments that had to use brick and concrete, ninety-seven percent of detached houses were wood-structured.

This gave the logging industry a profit that would never end, because wood structures were easily maintained due to dampness, insect infestation, and other reasons, so they never worried about having no business.

There were many small models made of various woods in the lobby of Taide Trading. Guests could see more intuitively what these wooden assembled houses would look like after entering.

They could place orders with the trading firm based on these models, and then they would produce the corresponding materials to provide to the customers.

Mr. Taide had just hung up the phone, cursing, and instructed the front desk that if this person called again, they should hang up directly.

He had indeed borrowed twenty-five thousand from Mr. Jobav, but fifteen thousand of that money had been taken away by Arthur, and he only got ten thousand.

Mr. Jobav actually knew about this, so he never considered recovering this money from the beginning. He knew it couldn't be recovered, so he simply packaged it all to Lanse to settle the debt.

Mr. Taide didn't know that this debt had been packaged and sold. He still thought it was Mr. Jobav urging him.

If it were the other party himself, he might have spoken properly, but a young person wasn't qualified enough to make him speak properly, even if Mr. Jobav had recently defected to the mayor.

The mayor was ultimately an "outsider" to this city, but the Arthurms family, the Five Great Families—these were the true masters of Jincheng!

Just as he was considering whether to put termites in some communities after spring, an exclamation came from the front desk in the lobby.

He just wanted to stand up and see what happened, but the office door was pushed open.

A young man walking with the wind walked in from outside. He looked very familiar, took off his hat, put it on the corner of the table, and sat directly opposite Taide.

He crossed his legs, took out a cigarette, and Hiram immediately lit it for him.

He took a puff and blew the smoke toward Mr. Taide, "Just now, what did you say on the phone?"

"You want to beat me up?"