As mercenaries, William and the others were all driven by self-interest. Therefore, as long as something benefited them, they would naturally do it.
So once William explained his idea, everyone nodded. Naturally, this included Chen Mo. He was neither a cultivator nor a member of the Special Affairs Administration now, but merely Monroe, a white skin mercenary in disguise. Someone like him would naturally nod in agreement with the plan.
William and Chen Mo began gathering all the bar patrons pretending to be dead on the floor, along with the drink hostesses and bar staff.
When Soka had entered earlier, these people had already received a thorough lesson—an intimate and friendly lecture delivered through fists and threats. Afterward, William and the others exchanged fire with Soka's men, bullets flying everywhere. Quite a few of these people had been struck by stray bullets or directly shot dead. That was another form of direct education. It was not a lecture, but its results were far better than one.
Therefore, these people were now as obedient as could be. Even though white skins made up the majority, no one came forward shouting slogans, nor were there any idiots spouting nonsense about disrespecting life. No one saw that William was a white skin and stepped forward to demand that William and the others respect some kind of rights.
Many times, those White Skins would step forward with some inexplicable sense of superiority and start demanding this and that. But now, they were as docile as quails. As for the local Cambodians among them, quails were not enough to describe how obedient they were. They had practically become tools, doing whatever they were told.
In truth, everyone feared death. Those who did not were few after all.
Chen Mo opened one of the bar's private