The leader wore a black jacket. His eyes, cold as an ice cave, swept across the laughing underlings. In an instant, the lively atmosphere was cut short like a blade slicing through flesh, sending an involuntary chill down everyone's spine.
The thug who followed him silently shut the door.
With the noise from outside cut off, the atmosphere inside the clothing store turned frigid.
Aside from the advertising loudspeaker forcibly installed by the "Company," which continued to broadcast the Company's popular products in cycles. The speaker was embedded in the load-bearing beam, producing sound through vibrations in the walls, so even bullets from bandits couldn't do anything to it.
After all, no one could just tear down a load-bearing beam and die together with it, right?
"Annoying as hell." The young boss clenched his fist and knocked on the wall. The advertising speaker installed by the "Company" seemed to sense his action and obediently stopped.
"Thank you for purchasing the green package. Please enjoy your brief moment of peace and tranquility."
With his ears finally free of the noise, the young boss cast a cold glance around the shop, his gaze settling on the last glass ornament that remained unbroken.
He pointed at it lightly and ordered a laughing underling beside him, "Eat it."
"Huh?" The underling was startled, and the space around him instantly cleared.
It was obvious the other thugs had already treated him as a scapegoat.
"I wasn't the one who said that just now..."
The underling tried to explain, but the young boss flicked his hand, sending the glass ornament crashing to the floor. It shattered with a crisp sound, mixing with the glass shards from the display cases.
"I don't care who said it. I'm telling you to eat it now!"
The underling didn't dare disobey. Trembling, he bent down, picked up a shard of glass, hesitated for a moment, then put it into his mouth.
Crunch! The sound of glass being bitten echoed through the shop. A stabbing pain spread through his mouth.
After swallowing a piece, blood mixed with the taste of glass. The thug clutched his mouth in agony, regret and pain flashing in his eyes.
This wasn't eating an ice pop. It was a brutal form of torture. Paired with the advertising slogan that resumed playing, it created an eerie chill that seeped into the bones.
Bang!
Watching this horrifying scene, the other thugs finally realized—they weren't part of some friendly company, but a ruthless gang that lived by the law of the jungle.
They had only wanted to make a living in the gang, thinking that being cruel to outsiders and extorting some money would be enough.
They never expected that they themselves would have to endure this as well.
The young boss knocked on the wall again, as if striking each of their hearts.
"Thank you for purchasing the green package. Please enjoy your brief moment of peace and tranquility."
The man's face remained expressionless as he turned to look coldly at the shop owner.
The business card bore the emblem of Kowloon Stronghold, its edges stained with blood—that of the underling who had eaten the glass.
He squatted down and pulled a business card from the upper pocket of the glass-eating thug, then casually tossed it in front of the shop owner.
The shop owner trembled uncontrollably, but she didn't dare ignore the card "handed" to her. Shaking, she picked it up.
The card displayed the emblem of Kowloon Stronghold, its edges still stained with the thug's blood.
This man was the overseer of the surrounding district—the young boss of Kowloon Stronghold.
Though he was only the lowest-ranking leader within Kowloon Stronghold, he held the power of life and death over this small district.
If he wished, he could do anything to these "livestock" who accepted the gang's protection.
As long as it didn't violate the rules of the "Company."
The young boss snorted coldly at the shop owner. "You should have listened to our advice and paid protection fees obediently. Otherwise, your business ends up like this. Understand?"
Kowloon Stronghold was the manager of this Miaonan District. They regularly extorted protection fees from all shops and tenants. If one refused—
The first time, it was intimidation and warnings.
The second time, they would secretly send people to rob the shop.
As for the third time... they would capture the person and carry out a public execution, to warn those who didn't follow the rules.
Of course, if those "livestock" owed debts to the "Company," they would be lucky—they might be spared.
But that didn't mean the gang would let them off. For example, Kowloon Stronghold maintained a group of bandits under its command specifically to avoid investigation by the "Company."
After all, in a city this chaotic, it was only natural for some law-abiding civilian to suddenly turn into a bandit, right?
On the surface, they would even pretend they had nothing to do with those bandits, drawing a clear line between them.
"But... but I really don't have any money this month." The shop owner's voice was filled with despair. "In the 'Second Zone,' business is already hard enough. Cash flow can collapse at any moment for all kinds of reasons. Not to mention, this month you deliberately caused trouble and scared away all my customers. There's no way I could have normal revenue. Where would I get money to pay protection fees?"
Although every district in Barcelona had facilities, they were divided into core and non-core districts.
The non-core districts, from inside to outside, were labeled by time units: 'hour,' 'minute,' and 'second.'
The outermost were these districts named after 'seconds.' They were closest to the city's edge, with scarce resources, and everyone lived in hardship.
The goods supplied to them by the "Company" were also calculated in seconds—telephone communication, water and electricity, advertisement VIP services, and so on.
Even their lives, like the time zones, were measured in seconds.
No one knew whether the next second would already be the end of their life.
"But I haven't even paid the overdue electricity fees yet—"
Bang!
A bullet struck the ground in front of the shop owner. The young boss of Kowloon Stronghold looked impatient. "I'm not here to listen to your sob story. No money? Then borrow from Kowloon Stronghold. Look at you—every other shop around has signed with us. You're the only stubborn holdout left."
"Of course I know that Kowloon Stronghold offers loans... but those are usury. Once you sign, you'll never be able to pay it off. It's less a loan contract and more like a contract of selling yourself!"
Seeing that the shop owner remained stubborn, the young boss grew more and more agitated. This entire street was his "performance record." Having a single holdout like her was a blemish on his achievements—how could he tolerate it?
As long as she nodded, he could become a senior boss of Kowloon Stronghold, the head of a hundred districts, managing this entire area with a bright future ahead.
Perhaps one day he could even become the right-hand man of the stronghold's leader, standing above countless others, no longer needing to face those terrifying monsters on the front lines.
Yet it was precisely this foolish woman before him who blocked his path to promotion and wealth. How could he not be furious?
"Looks like you want a taste of glass shards too, huh!"
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. With a furious kick, he sent the glass shards on the ground flying toward the shop owner's pretty face.