Chapter 236: This is My Turf [Monthly Ticket 666+3]

Along the way, the middle-aged man was a bit absent-minded. Hearing that they would arrive soon, what he was thinking about in his heart were all other things.

For example, could he handle the Lanse family all at once?

Would the Lanse family have a counterattack?

After handling it, how much profit would managing this bar bring him?

He thought of many things, even thinking of things years later, ten years later.

Unknowingly, the corners of his mouth slowly turned up, revealing a trace of a smile.

He didn't notice that the few old men who were discussing over there, seeing his appearance, also revealed smiles!

"You have to treat us to a good meal this time!" The old man with age spots all over his face was full of jealousy.

He got a five-dollar bonus for reporting, while this thin old man got twenty dollars for acting, and he could act too, just because it wasn't his turn.

Even from a very far distance, one could feel the unwillingness in him.

The thin old man laughed, lowering his voice. "Alright, I'll treat you to a big meal later, a five-dollar one!"

This time, the other three old men all revealed satisfied expressions, and one of them couldn't help but punch him in the chest. "That's more like it."

The bus soon stopped at the station. The driver impatiently patted the iron sheet in the driver's cabin with his hand. "If you want to get off, get off quickly. I have to go home for dinner."

"If no one gets off, I'm leaving!"

The few passengers on the bus sat numbly. Several old men stood up, and the middle-aged man followed them.

The driver muttered for a while, clearly dissatisfied with the "slow motion" of these old men.

This was a cross street that didn't look very special. After the few got off the bus, they brought the middle-aged man into the alley beside them.

The trash can at the entrance of the alley was piled full of all kinds of household trash, and sewage flowed everywhere, already starting to emit a foul smell.

Several wild dogs were looking for dinner in the trash pile.

Beside the wall, there was a wild cat, crawling there, quietly watching those wild dogs looking for food in the trash pile, its eyes seeming to reveal a trace of disdain.

After entering the alley and turning right, there was a not-too-deep backyard. There was no difference between this place and the back of the buildings in most street blocks.

They came to a half-level down, and the old man knocked on the door.

With a click, the window on the door panel opened a slit, revealing a pair of eyes.

The person inside opened the door after seeing them, without even needing to ask, clearly a regular customer.

The middle-aged man was cursing in his heart, but still followed them inside.

And at this time, eight cars had stopped at the entrance of the alley.

A large group of people got off the cars and were looking for something on the ground. Soon, they had a discovery.

Every certain distance, there was a small pinch of flour on the ground. There was no wind in the alley, so it couldn't blow these powders away. In the end, it pointed people to the entrance of a basement.

Only after approaching here could one smell the faint scent of alcohol escaping from the air.

"Right here."

They soon left, discussed at the entrance of the alley, and then these people started looking for places where they could hide themselves and started preparing for the upcoming battle.

But what they didn't know was that their every move had already been exposed.

"... Wait for us to go over and knock on the door. They definitely won't open the door."

"Then we will quarrel with them, beat that door hard, and they will definitely have to come out."

"Find a way to escalate the conflict, let their people call for help. If necessary, we can use weapons first."

"Everyone else hide well. When Lanse and his people come, just make a move directly!"

"Don't show mercy, with the purpose of killing these people to the maximum extent..."

Bulinton didn't come today. He was the leader here currently. Although this was an important operation, he wouldn't participate; he had to sit in the rear.

The one responsible for commanding was the staff officer who often helped him come up with ideas. Just as he finished assigning tasks, suddenly, in the quiet night, people heard the sound of an old-fashioned window being lifted up.

It was the sound of the window rubbing against the window frame!

Most federal windows opened upward. In order not to let the window fall down at any time, they were made relatively close. Whether opening or closing, they needed to use some force.

This also made the opening and closing of these windows have obvious friction sounds, as well as the collision sound when the force was used too much and the window was opened or closed to the limit.

A group of people immediately looked in the direction the sound came from. They hadn't discovered anything in the darkness yet, and next, they heard the sound of more windows being opened to the limit.

The staff officer had already realized something was wrong, but before he could say anything, suddenly, the sound of submachine gun fire rang out from those pitch-black windows around them!

Everywhere was firelight. Bullets shot onto people's bodies like rain, shot onto the ground, and the ground was turned over with mud.

After a short panic, the people from the Viper Gang also started to counterattack, but the surrounding walls were all black. They didn't know which window had someone behind it and which didn't.

Those firelights that bloomed when shooting made them unable to look directly, and after the firelight ended, they forgot the location again.

Shooting wildly also shattered some glass windows, but the entire back alley, and even half of this street, was "quiet."

Only the sound of gunfire.

There was no screaming from being frightened, no complaining or angry cursing, and no hysterical sound, as if there were only these two groups of people here!

The middle-aged man who had already entered the bar also felt something was wrong, because there were only a few people in the entire bar, and these people, at this time, were all looking at him.

And the intense gunfire outside made him feel strong unease. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and his arms started to tremble.

He picked up the cup and took a sip, wanting to cover up his panic and unease. There was a weapon in his bosom, but he glanced around quickly. He could kill one person at most, and then he would be beaten into a hornet's nest.

This was clearly a trap!

These sons of bitches!

He glared hatefully at the old men who were drinking alcohol happily, and finally squeezed out a smile. "What does this mean?"

The bartender was still wiping the wine glass, as if he did this kind of work most of the time every day—not wiping the wine glass, but wiping those wine bottles.

He raised his head and looked at the middle-aged man, leaning his body forward slightly, and beckoned to him.

The middle-aged man swallowed a mouthful of saliva. He pressed both hands on the bar, leaning his body forward as much as possible.

His attention was all on the bartender, on his face, ignoring the movement in the bartender's hand.

"I don't want to make this a mess," the bartender said this sentence in his ear.

Just when he hadn't reacted to what this sentence represented, the bartender inserted a sharp knife into his throat, then pulled it out immediately, and then used the towel he had just used to wipe the wine glass to press the wound.

Subconsciously, the middle-aged man hugged his neck tightly with both hands like a drowning person.

But this was meaningless!

He instinctively retreated, retreating to the middle of the bar.

Blood permeated the towel that couldn't be blocked at all, and the white towel also started to turn red. He started to be unable to breathe.

Blood backflowed, giving him a feeling of drowning. He instinctively started to cough, but when he opened his mouth, he only made a movement similar to coughing or nausea.

The blood wasn't squeezed out by the pressure of the lungs. He looked at the people around him in a panic and ran toward the front door.

But after running a few steps, his body started to have more intense convulsions. Just when he was two or three meters away from the bar door, he fell to the ground headfirst.

Besides the few old men, everyone else looked at the corpse calmly. The bartender took out another towel again and started wiping a wine glass that was actually very clean.

"Clean up the floor, and then throw him out."

And at this time, the most intense gunfire outside also stopped.

A group of people walked in from the alley entrance. Hailamu stood at the very front.

"I surrender!"

Beside the trash can, a guy who was shot in the abdomen lay with the trash, without any abruptness, as if this place was originally his home.

He gasped, looking at Hailamu. "I surrender, I know..."

Hailamu walked over, picked up the gun, and pressed the trigger to the end against him.

The firelight of the rat-tat-tat again illuminated the entire box. That person looked at Hailamu in disbelief, his wide-open eyes as if saying—

"Are you sick?"

When the click-click-click sound of the empty chamber came, he changed a magazine and continued to walk forward.

From some young people behind, evaluations like "so handsome" or "cool" came. He, who could easily suppress the recoil of the submachine gun's continuous fire, couldn't suppress the upward turn of the corners of his mouth at this time.

Soon they found the second guy who was already scared to pee and was hiding in the corner. Hailamu handed the reloaded submachine gun to Enio, signaling him to do it.

These people who followed Lanse in the first batch had all proven themselves in front of the newly joined members, but only Enio, he still lacked some.

This was a good opportunity.

Enio took a deep breath and stood in front of that person with the submachine gun, a bit nervous.

His hands kept loosening and then gripping the gun handles tightly.

He couldn't see that person's face clearly in the darkness, but that person's eyes reflected the moonlight, and he could see the fear and pleading inside.

"Please..."

Outside the alley, a police car stopped there. Two police officers looked at the bright lights that kept lighting up in the alley, and only stopped when the gunfire stopped. They looked at each other and had nothing to say.

One of them picked up the walkie-talkie and turned on the radio. "We have arrived at the reported scene and didn't find any problems. It might be..."

Before he finished speaking, the sound of gunfire rang out again, and even the people on the radio were silent.

After the gunfire ended, he continued, "... it might be a false report."

"Received, false report. You can come back. Repeat, you can come back."

As for the gunfire?

What gunfire?!

Who the hell is talking about gunfire?!

Basically, there is no gunfire at all! ===== CHAPTER 237 =====

Before the words were even finished, gunfire rang out again, and even the people on the radio fell silent.

After the gunfire ended, he continued, "... it might be a false alarm."

"Received, false alarm, you can return now, I repeat, you can return now."

As for the gunfire?

What gunfire?!

Who the fuck is talking about gunfire?!

There is absolutely no gunfire whatsoever!