Chapter 935: Gun, Thief, and Rules

Several of them arrived at the hotel they had booked; their current identities were tourists.

As a tourist city, Jincheng attracted many visitors; a few more tourists in town would not raise suspicion, let alone draw attention to them.

Of course, the team had also gathered some information about Jincheng from other sources, such as brokers.

For instance, they must not reveal their true intentions—this place was different from others; the streets were filled with eyes watching you.

The moment they sensed anything odd about you, they would report it to the Lans family, who would then find you, track you down, and capture you!

That’s why they were willing to pay one hundred thousand to catch one person!

Remember, the largest kidnapping job this team had ever taken paid only twenty thousand.

This reward was five times that amount—there had to be a reason.

After stowing their luggage and taking a short rest, they began preparing to scout the city.

While packing, the youngest member of the team couldn’t help complaining, “They really pick the worst timing—if they’d given us two or three months’ notice, we wouldn’t be stuck in this mess now!”

He was thinking about where to hide his weapons, since the weather was growing hotter and everyone on the streets wore short sleeves and loose shorts.

If you walked out in a trench coat right now, everyone would notice you.

But without a trench coat, wearing only thin short sleeves, it was hard to conceal weapons.

Jincheng’s complexity was indeed a challenge—and bad news—for them.

The oldest member of the team turned and glanced at the young man, smiling, “You’ll get used to it. Any job that pays big never makes you comfortable.”

“And the jobs that make you comfortable? You’ll never make big money from them.”

The others nodded in agreement—higher difficulty meant higher pay.

The young man said nothing more; he simply placed his weapons inside his backpack.

After checking their attire, the group stood together in the living room of the suite.

Their team was called “Wolf Pack,” each member had a codename, and there were six of them total.

One was logistics, responsible for all operational arrangements—booking hotels, forging identities—he knew every fake document dealer across the Federation and had connections everywhere.

One was the driver; every mature team needed a skilled driver—he could operate not just vehicles but also military equipment like armored tanks and boats.

One was the demolitions expert; if the mission required explosives or forced entry, he would prepare the charges according to plan and deploy them when needed.

Two were breach specialists, and one was the sniper.

Actually, their team had a seventh member, but he didn’t fully belong to them—he was an “armed broker,” specializing in taking contracts underground and assigning them.

They merely collaborated; the broker didn’t work exclusively with their team.

He took a three percent commission each time.

It didn’t sound like much, but he managed several teams, and other teams paid higher commissions—making it a substantial income.

The core of the team was a breach specialist, the oldest among them, covered in the most scars—he was the last surviving relic of the first-generation Wolf Pack, the last old-world Alpha. When he finally died, the Wolf Pack would truly complete its full generational transition.

“Remember our mission, and remember what we’ve studied—don’t cause trouble, don’t bring us trouble!”

“Losing one hundred thousand is minor; not getting out of this city is the real problem!”

His expression was serious, “Don’t think I’m joking—many have already died here, including well-known gangs.”

He saw the youngest member’s sneer and understood—he’d seen gangs before that were nothing but pathetic, but this time was truly different.

Under the Alpha’s gaze, the youngest wolf cub could only suppress his contempt, nodding gruffly, “I’ll be careful.”

Then the group left the hotel and first circled the Bay Area.

They’d been to many places, so the Bay Area meant little to them… it was just another place.

Anyone who’d seen Jinzhou wouldn’t be awed by the Bay Area’s glitter.

Next, they arrived at Jincheng Casino; the Lans family also owned a Golden Casino, but it hadn’t opened yet—rumor said it wouldn’t launch until year’s end.

This was one of the largest casinos on the East Coast, nearly overflowing with people; they gambled a few rounds, won some, lost some.

During this time, they truly noticed—there seemed to be a pair of eyes, intentionally or not, watching them.

This made everyone tense; the thought that eyes might be watching them from every corner of the city made their backs prickle.

On the third day after arriving in Jincheng, they began moving toward Xingang District; from their movements, they appeared to be ordinary tourists, eager to see everything.

They spent two days wandering the city’s busiest spots, then headed toward Xingang District, following a kind of “tourist itinerary.”

Even after entering Xingang District, the feeling of being watched lingered, faint but persistent.

“How are they doing it?”

The group pretended to be curious tourists, observing everything around them, occasionally exclaiming in mock awe, “My god, this is amazing!” while whispering quietly among themselves.

The sniper couldn’t take it anymore; as a sniper, he was far more sensitive to being watched than anyone else.

He even began doubting whether he was paranoid—maybe no one was watching him at all, and it was just his imagination.

But his skin itched constantly—that familiar itch of being stared at.

The Alpha glanced at him and whispered, “What do you mean?”

The sniper smiled as he gazed at the merchandise in the shop window, “Are they monitoring the entire city?”

“How?”

The Alpha didn’t know, “You’ll have to ask someone from the Lans family—they’re the only ones who know.”

At this point, they were very close to Karl’s residence—just two streets away.

They needed to check Karl’s house first, to see if he was still there.

They’d encountered fools who knew they were in danger but refused to move, and others who thought they could handle them.

In the end, they always completed their missions—those people were either kidnapped or killed, without exception.

This mission was difficult, but they didn’t think it was beyond them.

Soon, they crossed two streets and arrived at New Bay Area.

Called New Bay Area, but it was still part of Xingang District—this was where the wealthy of Xingang lived. Earlier investors had tried to build a new bay area here, but the beaches were less beautiful and shorter than those in the original Bay Area, and the coastline was cluttered with cliffs and rocks—ugly and unappealing.

Unlike the original Bay Area, where golden sand stretched endlessly into the distance.

Combined with pressure from the original Bay Area, the environment here never developed. After Mayor Williams took office, he declared the entire region part of Xingang District.

This section, New Bay Area, became Xingang’s wealthy enclave—full of standalone houses, some right along the road, highly visible.

They passed by Karl’s house and saw no car—brokerage materials included a photo of Karl’s vehicle.

This suggested Karl was very likely not at home, making things more difficult.

If the city weren’t crawling with watchers, they could just search—but now, nearly every corner was monitored by Lans family eyes; any action out of place could expose them.

The Alpha had already begun to retreat—and he noticed something peculiar.

On the way back, pretending to be tired tourists, Old Wang whispered, “Did you notice? The people outside Karl’s villa—they wear the same uniforms as those outside Wanli Group.”

He hadn’t mentioned it, and no one had realized; now that he had, everyone saw it.

“Have you realized they don’t really look like pure gangsters?”

“I think we should pull out of this job.”

“Money’s good, but you need to be alive to spend it.”

The others didn’t immediately agree—they needed time to think. Back at the hotel, they’d discuss it, then decide whether to abandon the job.

On the way back, no one spoke. Once back at the hotel, they sat down, and the Alpha raised the idea of quitting again.

“It’s too dangerous,” he said.

“Have you ever seen a spiderweb?”

“Those big webs strung between plants in your childhood yard?”

“Even a mosquito or fly that brushes one thread triggers the spider’s instant attack.”

“This city is the same—there’s an invisible, deadly web.”

“Even if we’re extremely careful, we might still trigger some mechanism here.”

“So let’s call it off. I’ll call the broker, cancel the job—I’ll pay the penalty.”

The penalty wasn’t much—it was the same as the deposit—and since we’re canceling quickly, the broker will be reasonable.

After some discussion, the others agreed to follow the Alpha’s advice. Though he was a relic of the old world, his experience was vast—he’d led them through many crises.

Reaching consensus eased the Alpha’s tension; his grim expression lifted, replaced by a faint smile.

He clapped his hands, “Let’s treat this trip as a real vacation—stay a few more days, then leave.”

“Now go rest. After dinner, disband for the night!”

The youngest member whistled—girls here were hot, and he was already impatient.

Everyone returned to their rooms. But soon, the youngest member returned to the living room, pale-faced, staring blankly at the others chatting on the sofa.

“What’s wrong?” asked the Alpha, holding a glass of wine.

The hotel provided alcohol sales—of course, not for sale; they’d “stored” it here beforehand and were now retrieving and consuming it, fully compliant with Federation laws and prohibition.

“The gun’s gone.”

“The gun’s gone?” At first, no one reacted, but quickly they understood—the Alpha’s expression darkened, “Stolen or lost?”

The young wolf cub’s face was still pale; he brought out his backpack—there was a knife slash on it, and everything inside was missing.

“My pistol, one magazine—gone.”

“Fuck!” The Alpha leapt to his feet, pacing back and forth. The Lans family controlled this city tightly—he wasn’t sure if the thief would report the theft.

Logically, he shouldn’t—but this was Jincheng!

He thought, while everyone in the room held their breath, watching him.

After about thirty seconds, he stopped pacing, looked up at them, “We leave immediately—this place can’t—”

Before he finished speaking, the suite doorbell rang.

The bell chimed urgently—everyone turned toward the door; those seated jumped up, but the Alpha raised his hand to stop them.

He knew these people were going for weapons, but if those outside weren’t Lans’s men, grabbing weapons now would be meaningless.

If those outside truly were Lans’s men, even if they took weapons, it would still be meaningless.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

“Respected… this may be a false name. Anyway, gentlemen, Mr. Lans wishes to see you.”

It was a blunt, straightforward statement, yet it made everyone in the room break into cold sweat; all eyes turned to the Wolf King’s face.

The Wolf King’s expression shifted repeatedly; he clenched his lips, his lips turning pale from the pressure.

After a moment, he slowly spoke, “Fine, I’ll go see Mr. Lans.”

The door opened quickly, and six men stepped out, their expressions grim.

Outside stood more than a dozen men, each carrying a submachine gun on their shoulders; the Wolf King also spotted grenades on some of their weapon belts.

He cursed under his breath, then forced a nervous laugh. “I’m not sure I know Mr. Lans.”

The man who came to fetch him smiled but said nothing, merely gesturing for him to follow.

Soon, the six men entered Lans’s office. Besides Lans and his men, there was also a short fellow inside.

Lans carried an aura impossible to ignore; merely sitting behind his desk, he radiated oppression and pressure, causing all six men to fall silent, their moods sinking.

They quickly understood why they were here: on the desk lay a gun. The gun the pup had dropped.

It was a modified pistol. Precisely because it had been modified, the thief who stole it was told by the fence he should take it straight to someone from the Lans family if he wanted to sell it.

Without Lans family permission, no one dared handle a pistol so heavily modified—it must have had a special origin, and no one wanted trouble.

Thus, through the thief’s description, Lans quickly learned who these men were and invited them here.

Ma Duoer walked over to them and gestured for them to show their hands.

The Wolf King fell silent for a moment, then extended his palm. He felt he had done nothing wrong, so after some thought, he wasn’t afraid of Lans’s inspection.

He did so, and the others followed suit.

After examining their hands, Ma Duoer turned to Lans. “I can’t say they’re expert marksmen, but they definitely use guns often.”

The others in the room all reached for their holsters, slightly tightening the atmosphere.

Lans smiled and raised his hand, signaling them not to be so tense. “What was your mission in Jincheng City?”

“Don’t lie. I have ways to prove whether you’re lying.”

“Tell the truth, and we might become friends.”

“Lie, and we’ll be enemies.”

Betraying their mission or employer was absolutely fatal for this group—after this, they’d never be able to operate in this circle again. So even the Wolf King stayed silent, lips shut tight.

Lans waited a moment. “Do you have concerns? Some kind of code or rule?”

“Actually, you needn’t worry about that. If you want to earn money, I have countless orders. And on my turf, as long as I don’t approve, no one can harm you.”

“Unless he wants to be my enemy!”

“Can you speak now?”

After exchanging glances, the Wolf King explained, “Our broker told us to retrieve a man named Karl. The reward was ten thousand. Beyond that, I don’t know who hired us—we only know what we’re supposed to do.”

Lans nodded slightly. “You’re clever. You’ve earned my friendship. This one… they told me you used a false name.”

The Wolf King was speechless. After much deliberation, he revealed his real name.

But given the Federation’s poor naming habits, Lans preferred to use his nickname.

“I’ll verify this information. Don’t wander off for now. That’s my advice to you.”

Then he gestured for them to leave, adding, “Your pistols!”

The young man awkwardly walked over, picked up the gun, and volunteered, “Goodbye, Mr. Lans.” Lans bid him farewell and watched him leave.

After they were gone, Lans opened a drawer, pulled out five twenty-dollar bills, and placed them on the desk, sliding them toward the thief.

“This is your payment.”

Thieves, assassins, prostitutes—some of the oldest professions. Even God couldn’t eradicate them. Lans never imagined eradicating thieves from his territory—it was impossible.

As long as they didn’t rob or hurt people, he ignored them.

The thief stared in surprise at the money on the desk. He knew that even if he sold the pistol, it’d fetch maybe twenty or thirty dollars—but Lans had given him a hundred.

Seeing the thief still hesitating, Lans added weight to his tone. “Can’t have you working all day for nothing, right?”

The thief had never imagined Lans would be so reasonable. He thanked him profusely, took the money, and nearly knelt to bow.

He’d expected to be beaten—instead, he got three or four times the value, plus praise from Lans. This would be bragging material for years!

He kept thanking him, calling Lans a good man, and slowly left the office.

Once the outsiders had departed, Lans sat there, fingers interlaced, thumbs pressed together. “Someone’s trying to break the rules again…”

(End of Chapter)