Chapter 556

In a club in the city center, a guy wearing a white formal shirt with a floral pattern leaned back on a bright red sofa.

Tufts of chest hair poked out from his open collar, looking somewhat disgusting, like an incompletely evolved barbarian.

On the low coffee table in front of him were some empty wine bottles, as well as cigarettes, cigars, and even some dried maple catnip.

Sitting next to him were some other people, their faces still bearing the unhealthy flush left behind by excitement.

He smacked his lips. "You guys had better be careful these past few days. When the boss came back last night, he said we might go to war with the Lans family."

He was a high-level executive of the Keane family. Previously, he did not belong to the Keane family but was the leader of a small gang.

At first, he had some conflicts with the Keane family, and both sides even had two fights; naturally, he was crushed both times.

Feijar quite appreciated him, so he annexed this small gang and even made him one of the high-level executives.

After joining the Keane family, it could be said that his talents had room to be displayed. Now, the bars, flesh trade, and even the maple catnip business he managed were among the best in the family.

Every month, he could turn over at least 150,000 in profit to the family!

In other words, besides the profit he had to earn for himself, he had to give 5,000 to Feijar every day.

Even so, he still lived a very carefree life. He was ruthless enough, generous enough, and not too stupid.

Having these three traits at the same time makes it very easy to get along in the gang world.

Surrounded by people who had followed him for a long time, Feijar had gathered the high-level executives together last night and briefly explained the recent situation and the future development of the situation.

Some high-level executives felt that Feijar was a bit too impulsive and there was no need to rush into war.

It wasn't that they thought they would lose, but rather that... it seemed like they were being taken advantage of by others.

The reason they didn't object was that the Imperial District was right next to them, and friction between the two sides had actually always existed, just not so obvious or intense.

It wasn't that they didn't know about the many drunks from the city center going to the Imperial District to drink; they had actually secretly obstructed it, but it was of no use.

They had even made reports to the Hazardous Materials Bureau, which led to one of the Lans family's bars being sealed.

But even so, they still couldn't stop people from going to the Imperial District to buy alcoholic beverages, because it was too damn cheap.

There was dissatisfaction between the two sides, and friction and conflict could break out at any time. Now that war was mentioned, they wouldn't refuse.

Like Feijar, they didn't think they would lose, and with the support of the Koda family and the Tita family, it couldn't be said that Lans, an emerging force, would go head-to-head against three major families, right?

So they weren't nervous at all. In fact, after receiving the news last night, this floral-shirt high-level executive even had the mood to gather his brothers for a night of partying!

The air was filled not only with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol but also the special scent of maple catnip and the strange odor left by genetic fragments.

On the sofa, in the corners, on the table—that strange smell was everywhere.

"Be completely crazy when you can be crazy" was this floral-shirt guy's motto, and he had indeed followed this motto himself; he had led the partying last night!

At this moment, he lit a cigarette. The "ding" sound from the pure silver lighter and the spring made the captains around him wake up a little.

Some rubbed their faces, some picked up their cups and poured water on their faces, and others changed positions and continued to keep their eyes closed.

The floral-shirt guy stood up with the cigarette in his mouth, waking them up one by one, and only after they were alert did he continue, "I'm not fucking joking with you."

"Behave yourselves these next few days. The Lans family people don't know when they will strike."

"Guard your own territory well. If you cause me to suffer losses because you mess around, I guarantee that as good as I am to you, I will be that bad to you then!"

The captains nodded one after another, promising they would definitely listen, but no one knew how many were telling the truth and how many were lying without a care.

Looking at his subordinates like this, the floral-shirt guy also knew there was no good way; the reputation of the Five Families was too loud.

So loud that ever since they joined the Keane family, they seemed to fear nothing, because no one dared to offend them!

"Got it, boss, we'll be careful."

The subordinate who had the best relationship with him took the initiative to say a word. In fact, at this moment, in his eyes, the floral-shirt guy was still constantly shifting; the kick of the maple catnip and alcohol was too strong!

Damn it, can't add so much next time!

The floral-shirt guy cursed twice. He could see that these people were not in the right state of mind; in fact, he was usually like this too, only gradually sobering up by evening.

He shook his head, kicked the person next to him a few times, and turned to walk out of the club.

He was too indulgent with these subordinates; they would sooner or later suffer for not being alert enough.

Coming out of the room, the club staff bowed and greeted him all the way; after all, he was a high-level executive of the Five Families, and coming to the club to spend money was giving them face.

Moreover, the floral-shirt guy wouldn't say he was short of money or wouldn't pay; his ability to earn money was far stronger than his ability to spend it.

For someone with such a background who was willing to spend money, how could the club offend him?

Those young girls would sweetly call out "Good morning, boss" as soon as they met him, and the floral-shirt guy felt wonderful.

"The car is already parked at the door..."

Before he even reached the door, the manager took the initiative to greet him, holding the keys to his latest convertible.

The floral-shirt guy nodded. He took the keys and twisted his neck. "How much?"

The manager turned and brought the bill. "A total of 713; you can just give 700!"

"You look down on me!" The floral-shirt guy squinted at him, and the manager hurriedly said, "I wouldn't dare."

He then took out two stacks of money tied with rubber bands, each stack containing 25 bills. After pulling out 10 bills, he slapped the remaining money into the manager's hand. "Split the extra."

The manager's face was also full of joy. As he turned, his eyes widened, and those young girls all sweetly called out "Thank you for the tip, sir."

This made the floral-shirt guy burst into laughter!

The most proud and carefree moment in life is nothing more than this!

Money, power—they really are damn good things!

He walked out of the club's main entrance with a swagger, his attention entirely on the new dark blue sports car on the side of the road.

This caused him to overlook a car parked at an angle on the side of the road about thirty or forty meters away starting up.

When he pulled open the car door and sat in, the moment he inserted the key, that car stopped right beside him with the sound of brakes.

He subconsciously looked toward that car, only to see several dark gun barrels.

Bullets poured down like the heavy rain yesterday. The pitter-patter of gunfire made the entire street quiet for three seconds, followed by sharp screams!

The whole process probably took seven or eight seconds, and that car stepped on the gas and rushed out.

After a while, the manager ran out of the club in a panic. The floral-shirt guy was already slumped in the driver's seat of the convertible, his body stained red with fresh blood.

The fresh blood in his mouth kept bubbling out like a small fountain, mixed with blood foam. Occasionally, he would twitch—the kind from nausea—and then spit out a mouthful of blood.

His consciousness was already fading. Even though he had raised his arms to protect his head in the shortest possible time, there was no chance for rescue.

Half a minute later, he stopped moving.

On another street, a high-level executive of the Keane family was resting in a room at a high-end hotel.

He had played cards until late last night. Like the floral-shirt guy, he didn't have much worry about going to war with the Lans family.

Arrogant people are often like this, just like those nobles who look at rioting farmers with their nostrils, even when their heads are already resting on the block of the guillotine, the words in their mouths are still "lowly people like maggots in the mud"!

Arrogance is a poison; once you are infected, it is very difficult to find a day to detoxify.

The ding-dong of the doorbell woke him from his sleep. He glanced at the unfamiliar girl on the bed, left the room shirtless, and the doorbell was still fucking ringing!

He had won a lot of money last night, and a few times it was because of this girl's help; she seemed to pass good luck to him, allowing him to win money in rounds where it was almost impossible to win.

As a gambler, he had a superstition about luck that was different from ordinary people.

In fact, many gamblers are like this; they are superstitious that some little thing can bring them good luck, superstitious that some action or some song can change the outcome of the deal, or they have superstitions about the order of seats or the order of dealing.

In short, as long as it is something that makes them think "I can win," they will be favored by them.

And this time, the one he favored was the girl on the bed.

So he brought her here, went crazy for a night, promised to give her a sum of money, and then drank some alcohol and went to sleep.

"Damn it, didn't I say I didn't need morning room service?"

He was losing his temper now. After reaching middle age, his body was no longer what it was when he was young.

Far from it, but he was not very willing to admit it.

When he was young, he could stay up all night, and the next day, after sleeping for two or three hours, he would become refreshed again.

But now, every time he stayed up late, it was like someone had beaten him up all night. It was fine if he didn't stay up late, but if he did, he had to sleep until noon the next morning, otherwise his whole body would feel uncomfortable.

That was how he was now: heart racing, headache, and his neck also seemed uncomfortable. He cursed as he pulled open the door. "If you press that again, I swear..."

When his gaze met the gaze of the three people outside the door, his words were interrupted by himself.

Standing outside the door were three gentlemen in formal wear. They were all wearing soft-brimmed hats. It is worth mentioning that they had a distinct red armband on their left arms.

They were wearing lambskin gloves—cowhide gloves are very hard and not very suitable for actions like shooting that require a certain level of control.

Lambskin leather can be tanned to be very soft and thin, especially the custom-made ones that fit every finger, so that no finger feels uncomfortable.

In those gloved hands, they were all holding a pistol, which was emitting the scent of death.

The atmosphere was somewhat frozen. He subconsciously wanted to run, but the people outside didn't give him a chance to run at all.

In this last minute of his life, he didn't know what to say, and his brain cleared up for a moment. He thought of Feijar's phone call.

But he no longer knew what to say, and finally, he squeezed a curse out of his throat.

Please... collect... 6... 9... books...!

"Son of a bitch..."

Unfortunately, he didn't finish cursing; this time it was interrupted by gunfire.

The sound of firearms using small-caliber bullets was not loud, and the *piu-piu-piu* made him retreat continuously.

He tried to steady himself by holding onto the table by the door, but after being shot in the skull, he completely lost control of his body.

The three entered the room, emptied all their bullets into his head, and then left quickly.

Even small-caliber bullets still had a bit of noise.

The girl in the room stretched her beautiful body and woke up from her sleep. She put on her robe, tossed her long hair, and walked into the living room, and then, with her particularly good-at-acting voice, let out a sharp, piercing scream!

After eight o'clock, Feijar was woken up by his brother.

"For the sake of us being brothers, God, let me sleep a little longer!" He opened his eyes and looked at his brother, his face haggard.

He had also stayed up late. For the past two nights, his mind had been full of things, and he couldn't sleep well at all.

He had only fallen into a daze after four o'clock, and now it was only after eight; he couldn't get up at all!

His eyes were bloodshot, his speech was weak, and his eyes were particularly painful.

"... (Floral Shirt) and... (Gambler) are dead,... and... cannot be contacted until now, and another one was shot but survived and is now in the emergency room."

Feijar was stunned. He sat up abruptly and turned on the bedside lamp. "What the fuck did you say?"

His brother repeated it again, his expression serious and solemn. "The Lans family has already started to move."

"Fuck!"

"How dare they move so quickly?"

"And how did he find these people?"

His brother said, "I heard that Lans has a young man under him named Mo Lisi who has been helping Lans develop and investigate people from other gangs."

"You know the situation with our high-level executives; they never hide their movements, so the possibility of being targeted is very high."

If one has to hide after infiltrating the Five Families, then these Five Families are too useless!

Whether it is the internal members of the Keane family or those gang members who joined through annexation, after defeating the Xiong Bang, they were actually already very inflated!

Plus, quite a few high-level executives and captains in the family died in the war with the Xiong Bang, and now the family's power is relatively concentrated in the hands of the few Feijar and the few high-level executives.

With power and influence and being proud, how could they resist not being rampant?

It's just that they didn't know that before Lans was qualified to challenge the Five Families, he had already sent people to watch the situation of the Five Families.

And there was some help from Alberto in this.

Although the Five Families are one body now, they are also wary of each other and control each other.

Finding these people didn't take much effort.

Feijar only felt his temples throbbing. He couldn't lie down anymore, so he threw off the quilt, stood up, walked back and forth a few times, and then changed his clothes and went straight to the study.

"Notify everyone immediately; from now on, be fucking careful twenty-four hours a day!"

"We are one of the Five Families; don't fucking act like we're not as good as those low-class small gangs!"

"If I find out who is still fucking slacking off, I'll kill them myself!"

As he spoke, he picked up the phone and began to call the important members and high-level executives of the family one by one.

Of course, some high-level executives didn't take what he said seriously, but some were very cautious.

They were obedient and hid in their own territory, so nothing happened this morning.

He asked these people to come over; he wanted to hold a meeting.

He knew one truth: in gang warfare, whoever spends more time in a defensive state has a higher probability of losing in the end!

Must attack!

Even if it is blood for blood, one must fight to the death to attack!

After nine o'clock, more than a dozen high-level executives gathered here, and a few others were on their way.

Feijar had changed into a set of clothes, his eyes somewhat fierce. "I fucking yesterday, careful careful careful!"

"As a result, these sons of bitches took what I said as a fart. Fine, now not only are they dead, but they have also made us so passive!"

"Fuck!"

Watching Feijar get angry, even with a bit of... a warning tone, the expressions on the faces of each high-level executive were not very good.

"Just for a small matter, Lans's people moved so fast?" a high-level executive couldn't help but ask.

"Is there some situation we don't know about?"

Others looked at each other, also feeling that the situation was not quite right.

If the shootout the night before yesterday was because of fighting for customers—they were also investigating this matter and had found those few customers who went from the city center to the Imperial District to drink, and had obtained their description of the process.

Then, why the shootout now?

And why was the formation so big right from the start?

The guys who questioned that there might be other things in this felt that Feijar was hiding things from them.

But Feijar didn't feel he was hiding anything from them. "I guarantee, I haven't hidden anything."

"He is like a mad dog now, biting the Koda family and then coming to bite us. He is too arrogant!"

Feijar tapped his hand on the table. "Youth and immediate success make him not put us in his eyes. Gentlemen, we must teach him how to behave!"

The executives also nodded one after another, and one of them asked, "Then what do we do now?"

Feijar took out a map. Yes, he also had a map, on which there were some scattered locations of Lans's bars.

These locations were all bought by Bandy at a high price from the mouths of drunks.

As long as he pays enough money, there will always be people who have no direct interest in Lans who are willing to sell the locations of these bars for money.

And this kind of thing will continue; it can't be defended against!

His hand slapped onto this map. "He can come to attack us, and we can go to attack them!"

(End of chapter)