"Hello? Brother Luo? Got any time lately? Dragon's Hamlet at seven-thirty? No time? Fine, we'll make it another time."
"Hello? Lewis? Dragon's Hamlet at seven-thirty, my treat, how about it? Your brother died? Fine, next time then..."
"Mr. Julian? Oh? He's not in? Then I'll call back later..."
"Vladimir, it's me, William. Seven-thirty, Dragon's—"
Beep! Beep! Beep!
This time, the call was cut off before he could finish.
In the silent workshop, the forced smile on William's face gradually stiffened and twisted. The abused phone in his hand creaked, on the verge of being crushed.
"Fuck—"
The scar on William's face twisted like a writhing worm, turning crimson beneath the rush of blood.
Those unreliable bastards used to call him Brother William this and Brother William that. But when he actually needed them, either their fathers had died, their mothers were sick, or they weren't home... And Vladimir, that little punk who had climbed the ranks on William's back, actually dared to hang up on him.
"Fuck! Fuck!"
William slammed a fist onto the desk. "Fuck your mother!"
If this weren't such a turbulent time, he would have charged into that Death Poison bug's house, shoved a gun barrel into his mouth, and pulled the trigger.
Since when did some drug dealer get to throw his weight around in front of him?
And now, even a drug dealer dared to look down on him...
The storm had come without warning.
No one had been prepared.
It wasn't just William, who owned only a few factories and brothels. Even the big shots above had been killed or crippled. In this sudden sweep, they had been smashed to pieces and thrown into rat farms like wild dogs, turned into feed.
In just two days, the entire Lower District had been tossed into