Drunkard's Home

Leon and his friends stared in disbelief at the gleaming Colt Python Revolver.

With... with... with a gun? This wasn't the process he envisioned.

This man doesn't follow the rules.

Leon looked at Ba Di with a grim expression. He wasn't crazy, which was why he wouldn't take the Python Revolver.

Suicide Slum may be chaotic and dirty, and people often die there.

But even a pig wouldn't easily kill someone in such a straightforward manner.

If this could be done, then a considerable number of civilians wouldn't be allowed to live here, and there would be some rules here.

This rule does not allow for the execution of a person in broad daylight.

He didn't have enough power to ignore the police's pursuit. He was just a hoodlum trying to get in, not a gang leader who could make someone take the blame. Once he took the gun and fired in anger, he would really have to go on the run in the future, unless a gang took him in.

Leon's face flushed red as he glared angrily at Ba Di he had already mistaken for a wealthy nobleman who had come to amuse him.

The behavior of the wealthy is always bizarre and unpredictable.

He dared not do anything to Ba Di, because Ba Di's clothes alone looked expensive, coupled with his own demeanor, the revolver, and the burly bodyguard.

He could only spit angrily on the ground beside him and glare at Ba Di: "Get out of here."

Then he turned around and angrily beat the Drunkard. After beating him until the end, he left with a few people. Before leaving, he solemnly threatened and warned the Drunkard: either pay back the money or return the goods, or he would beat him every time he saw him. This appearance made Ba Di look like a swaggering thug.

As Leon turned around, his eyes still held resentment. He glared at Ba Di with hatred, snorted angrily, and was quite annoyed that the man in the white trench coat had mocked him like this.

Ba Di watched Leon leave with considerable admiration. The young man was perceptive and intelligent, able to suppress his anger, understand the situation, and was not reckless. He was also a charismatic leader who could command a group of young people to follow him. It was just that he was a greenhorn who had been swindled out of his first pot of gold by this Drunkard.

"Keep an eye on him; you might be colleagues in the future." Ba Di tucked the revolver back into Mike's waistband and looked down at the Drunkard on the ground.

Mike watched the group of youths walk away angrily, cursing inwardly, "Damn it, now that the boss has taken a liking to them, another group is coming to steal their food."

This won't do. I need to make it clear to them first that I'm the boss's number one lackey.

Mike thought to himself, "I can't let anyone take my job, and I can't tolerate the chance to become Superman slipping away from me!"

"Get up," said Ba Di, glancing at the Drunkard.

The young men seemed to be punching and kicking with great force and ferocity, but they didn't hit his vitals too hard. The Drunkard was a seasoned veteran who had been beaten many times and knew how to protect his vitals. Therefore, he only exerted his strength and recovered after lying on the ground for a short rest.

The Drunkard looked up at Ba Di through his messy, dirty long hair, his murky eyes staring at Ba Di as if he were a giant standing tall.

He suddenly scrambled to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth to stop coughing and injuring himself. His eyes lit up, and he asked with delight, "Is it the Family? Is it the Family? You've come to find me!"

Ba Di had no idea what kind of organization the Family was; he just glanced at the slovenly Drunkard, who reeked of cheap alcohol.

He rubbed his right hand against his left palm again and said, "Let's find somewhere to talk."

The Drunkard was overjoyed, his hunched back seemed to straighten up considerably, his delight overflowing. He also seemed to think there was something very important to discuss, looking around like a secret agent afraid of being discovered.

"Come to my house, my house."

The Drunkard was overjoyed, leading Ba Di home with a constant backward glance, as if afraid that Ba Di would disappear if he turned around. He even walked backward, boasting about his glorious deeds from back then.

Only then did Ba Di realize that the Family the Drunkard mentioned was actually a gang, a gang created by the upper class of the Metropolis for their own convenience. It was originally called 'Aristocracy' to distinguish itself from other gangs, but after being tested by some upper-class struggles, it became the 'Family' gang.

The Drunkard's home, being in this Suicide Slum, was naturally not very good. It was a dilapidated square house with patches of mud and dust peeling off the walls, revealing the brick and stone walls inside. Half of the second floor was covered with faded clothes.

There was a prison-like iron-barred window through which one could see a thin, thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy reading a book quietly. He turned the pages until the Drunkard's footsteps approached the door, at which point he silently closed the book.

The Drunkard clearly knew his home wasn't very comfortable, so he told Ba Di to wait at the door while he went inside to clean up the mess.

Ba Di stopped at the door and let him come inside to handle it.

"Go find that boy named Leon and bring him under my command. Once I understand the situation here, I will take control. I need people." Ba Di, with his imposing figure, kept rubbing his right thumb against his left palm, his thoughts never ceasing. He decided to rule this place as soon as possible, spreading from the Suicide Slum to the city center of the Metropolis.

Mike responded, not expecting his opponent to appear so quickly, and that he had to invite him himself. This was such a shitty mess.

However, he dared not fail to complete the task. Compared to this, it would be even more tragic to leave an impression of incompetence in front of Ba Di.

Mike turned and left.

As for how to find Leon and the others, that's naturally up to him.

When the Drunkard entered the house, it wasn't a scene of dealing with the mess in his home.

Instead, he saw his son sitting in the only clean chair, and anger instantly rose in his heart. He picked up the beer bottle with little liquid and smashed it down on his thirteen or fourteen-year-old son's head. The beer bottle didn't break, but there was a loud 'bang'. The son was caught off guard, and the yellowed book in his hand fell to the ground. His head hurt so much that his vision blurred.

The Drunkard then angrily kicked his son to the ground, causing his hands and feet to bruise and bleed. When his tattered clothes were pulled open, the skin underneath was covered with various bruises and wounds, clearly indicating that he had suffered a lot of abuse in the past.

He grabbed his son by the collar and growled, "You dare to sit in this dirty chair?! I've raised you for over ten years, and you wouldn't even sell your ass to buy me a drink. You ingrate, how dare you sit in my chair? Eat my food? All you do is read useless books all day long."

"Listen, get back inside the hut, lock the door, and don't come out and get in my way. I'll sell your kidney."

The thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy's breath caught in his throat, his face turning deathly pale with panic. Ignoring the pain of being kicked and the throbbing pain from a large bump on his head, he abandoned his books, crawled from the floor into the small room next door, and closed the withered, tree-like wooden door.

After brutally dealing with his son, the Drunkard forced a smile and invited Ba Di into the house with a fawning, obsequious grin.

But a question lingered in his mind: where was the bodyguard? Ba Di waited until the chair cooled down before sitting down.

The Drunkard couldn't wait to ask, "May I ask which Family you belong to?"

"I'm not referring to any particular Family; I just want to inquire about the situation in Metropolis. If you answer well, you might be able to work under me; if you answer only so-so, you'll probably get a few hundred dollars."

"Ba Di said calmly."

The Drunkard suddenly realized what was going on.

This is a newly established Family challenging the old order, merely seeking to obtain some information; perhaps the person in front of them has even come from another city.

The Drunkard felt a surge of heat in his heart, and recalling the humiliations of the past, his breathing became heavier.

If you can contribute even a little when he is conquering the world, you are a loyal subject who has helped him rise to power, and the benefits are countless.

As for failure, he has already failed once, so he can beg and plead no matter what.

"I understand, I understand, I know." The Drunkard's eyes shone brightly.

Ba Di nodded, his eyes glancing briefly at the Drunkard in front of him, then scanning the surroundings before his gaze settled on a book on the ground. The book was yellowed from frequent use, and the pages were curled up.

Quantum Theory

"I can help you. I used to work in big cities too. I don't know if you've heard of me."

The Drunkard licked his lips, genuinely hoping that the man would come to recruit him simply because he heard his name.

"My name is Lionel Luthor," the Drunkard said.

Hmm! Ba Di raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze from "Quantum Theory" to Lionel Luthor's eager face, and then looking behind him.

Through a crack in the door, a hateful, venomous gaze peeked out. This gaze had passed over his father, then turned to Ba Di, meeting Ba Di eyes.

The boy's pupils contracted, his gaze disappearing into the darkness of the room, and he gently slammed the door shut.