Chapter 77: Anomaly and Claim

All eyes turned to Aierwen , Lans made a “please speak” gesture, then watched him in silence.

Aierwen was clever and sharp-witted—Lans knew this well, so he had no fear Aierwen would say anything out of place.

If it were someone else, say Yisen , Lans would have warned Yisen first not to say anything that dampened the mood.

Aierwen looked around at the others. “Actually, everyone wanted to come—Lans, Yisen , Meiluo , even Ainiao —they all wanted to be here, everyone was willing to work for the company, for you.”

“We just got lucky—you picked us, so we have this chance to split such a huge sum of money.”

“I’m grateful to you, Lans. Before you, our lives were truly hard—until you decided to change everything!”

These words resonated deeply with Hailamu and the others; their lives had truly been miserable, and the anti-immigrant unrest still rippled through society.

If they hadn’t been utterly unable to get work permits or find decent jobs, they likely wouldn’t have come at all once they learned the company was shady.

They merely thought, “What if they actually pay?” and worked here for a month—this reflected the dire plight of immigrants and undocumented workers at the time.

Aierwen ’s heartfelt words moved everyone, evoking deep sympathy.

“So my idea is—I’ll take two hundred, and the rest I’ll deposit into the company’s account.”

Mo Lisi was the first to raise his hand in agreement. “Yes, when I heard we’d get such a huge sum, I felt a flicker of delight—but soon I felt fear.”

“I’ve never seen so much money. I’m afraid it’ll control me. I don’t want to become a criminal or a fool because of it.”

“I’ll take two hundred too—put the rest into the company’s account for me…”

Everyone on Lans’s side chose this option. But Hailamu ’s group all turned to look at Hailamu .

Hailamu thought for a moment, shook his head—but his hair was soaked by rain and wouldn’t fly back, so he had to sweep it aside with his hand.

Budebushuo , when he made this gesture, paired with his foolish face, he looked utterly, laughably stupid—deceptively so.

“Lans, no matter what others say, from my perspective, you did this solely to help us.”

“At first, I only wanted you to help us recover our wages and punish these people. I never imagined we’d get so much!”

“I think… money isn’t better the more you have. Enough is enough.”

“I have another idea…”

He glanced at Aierwen , then said sincerely, “I want to follow you, Lans.”

“From Aierwen and your other friends, I can see you let me live with dignity!”

“I only need my wages. I’m afraid if I have too much money at once, I’ll spend it recklessly and draw attention.”

Hailamu looked foolish—especially with his dull eyes and constant head-shaking, like some backward, mentally deficient farmer.

Yet his actual abilities far surpassed those of ordinary people.

“Are you speaking for yourself—or for all of you?”

Hailamu turned to look at the others. They’d had some contact before, endured a month of oppression together, and their bonds had strengthened.

A few stepped forward, saying they’d follow Hailamu ’s lead—if they could just get fifty dollars.

But two remained silent, which angered Hailamu —but he said nothing.

This was Lans’s domain. He couldn’t replace Lans in giving orders or making decisions.

“It’s fine. This is what you deserve. You took huge risks. No one can say your choice was wrong.”

The two men visibly relaxed, but then Lans added, “Tomorrow, go to the company to collect your money. After that, you’re done with this matter entirely.”

“But I also hope you’ll keep a low profile. If your actions cause this matter to become known…”

“You know I can deal with the Federation—and I can deal with the Empire just as easily.”

“I don’t want the day I have to personally throw you into oil drums and sink you into Angel Lake—let alone drag your families down with you!”

His tone was grave. The two men were already regretting it—but four thousand dollars was too tempting!

That meant working ten years straight without eating or drinking, with legal employment and no wage theft, to earn this sum!

With this setup—renting someone else’s work permit—they might need twenty or thirty years to save this much!

One side was a reckless fifty dollars; the other, over four thousand in hand. They quickly decided, their resolve hardened.

“I understand, Lans. I swear only I will know this—no one else will hear it from me. If I break this, do whatever you want to me!”

The other man said much the same. Lans nodded without comment, only warned them: “Remember what you said.”

Then his face broke into a smile. “Come on—there’s still so much meat. It’d be a waste to let it go cold.”

Some ate easily, without burden. Others ate distractedly.

The heavy rain stopped by midnight, leaving a clear night sky glittering with stars, their faint light illuminating the earth.

The next morning, Lans kept watching the warehouse. He’d expected police to arrive last night.

After all, losing tens of thousands in goods couldn’t go unnoticed by the owner—they wouldn’t shoulder the loss themselves.

But no police came. Instead, the warehouse was sealed shut again, with two large trucks parked outside, blocking the entrance.

This left Lans truly baffled. The only plausible explanation was that this batch of alcohol was contraband.

He sent Yisen with two brothers to guard it—they all carried weapons.

Lans himself went to find out what was really going on.

Meanwhile, three men in formal suits knocked on the door of the Jincheng City Police Department’s coroner’s office.

The coroner, busy with work, stood to greet them.

The coroner had seen countless living and dead people—he instantly recognized these men as gangsters, and not just any gangsters, but ones with influence in Jincheng.

You couldn’t expect street kids who couldn’t afford dinner to wear hundred-dollar suits with crisp name tags and neatly tied ties.

After shaking hands with the man who entered, the coroner sat back down and handed over a file.

As the man studied the file, the coroner studied him.

He was under thirty, maybe early thirties—pale, slender, not physically strong.

Yet he’d chosen a tailored suit, one that didn’t hang loosely—this was a man who paid attention to detail.

His collar, cuffs, and even his tie knot were meticulously arranged.

The only flaw the coroner noticed was his hands—scars on the backs, calluses on the palms.

Minutes later, the man set the file down, turned his head side to side, and a violent aura surged from him.

He seemed ready to smash or destroy something—but this wasn’t his territory. He ultimately didn’t overturn the desk.

He clenched his fists, then quickly unclenched them, pushed his hair back, and after a long moment, his emotions settled.

“Above… said he died from overeating.” His voice was pleasant—slightly hoarse, fitting the female ideal of “magnetic.”

The coroner nodded. “His facial muscles, including the masseters, showed tearing injuries. He was almost certainly force-fed, rupturing his stomach wall and causing fatal blood loss.”

The man suddenly laughed a few times, then shook his head. “That idiot!” He raised a hand in apology, then pointed at the photo in the file. “I’m not talking about you—I’m talking about this dead fool!”

His eyes were reddened. “Did you find out who killed him?”

The coroner shook his head. “Ask Officer Lu Ka. He’s in the Criminal Investigations Unit. His office has a nameplate.”

The man stood, took a deep breath, and shook the coroner’s hand again. “Thank you for your work. May I… see him?”

The coroner nodded. “Not now. Officer Lu Ka will take you. There’s a formal body claim process and paperwork—you’ll see him.”

He hesitated. “People die. I hope you can find peace. Life goes on.”

The man nodded firmly. “Thank you. Thank you for your words—I feel much better.”

He turned and left. Watching his back, the coroner knew—Jincheng would be unsettled again…