It's Yours

The modifications were slower than Donnie had expected. The old bartender, holding a bottle of wine, demanded tens of thousands of dollars from Donnie in one go. He wanted to buy the best parts, the best alloys, and the best converters to build a war motorcycle.

The two of them were generous with their spending, not batting an eye. Seeing an opportunity for profit, some people came over wanting to swindle them out of some money, but the old bartender quickly saw through them. Then, Donnie stepped in and beat one of them half to death.

Screams echoed, attracting a lot of attention. Some individuals with shady backgrounds looked on coldly, impatient.

"This is Irish territory. Who dares to cause trouble here?" a burly man with a ferocious face began to reach for his gun. By the rules, he could kill these ignorant rookies.

Soon, another person stopped him and quietly told him that the young man doing the beating was the Mechanic, who had been making waves recently.

"Don't let his youth fool you; when he fights, he goes for the kill. Many people have been killed by him recently."

People whispered amongst themselves, many casting looks of attention and apprehension towards Donnie. Those who had been considering making a move quietly hid their guns, not daring to reveal the slightest hint. Who would dare to confront this mutant without some serious skills? Rumor had it that unless this mutant was lured to the wilderness, wherever he went could very well become his territory.

This mutant seemed to possess the ability to continuously create mechanical soldiers, though its upper limit was unknown.

Many people retreated, their intentions quelled. However, there were still those who weren't afraid of death and approached, seemingly wanting to communicate with Donnie, drawing the attention of many onlookers.

A very peculiar person walked up to Donnie, completely covered from head to toe in thick, black, specially made clothing, and wearing a light-proof hood.

"Does this guy want to provoke him? Or befriend him?"

"I bet he'll be defeated in three sentences at most. What major organization can control that mutant?"

People chattered, waiting to see this guy's embarrassed retreat.

The strange person stood directly in front of Donnie, making eye contact without any fear.

"Mr. Donnie," the strange person said with a smile, revealing sharp teeth as if intentionally letting Donnie see them. "I greet you on behalf of the Thompson Family."

The old bartender, who had been squatting, suddenly trembled. Then, as if nothing had happened, he continued his work, though his legs were shaking, and he couldn't fasten a buckle after fumbling with it for a long time.

Donnie's expression was blank. "I don't think I have anything to greet you things with."

"Don't say that," the strange person said politely. "You were quite impressive last night clearing out our Thompson Family's stronghold. Your name has now spread throughout the entire underworld, bringing shame to our family. By the way, my name is John Thompson."

"Then you're here for a fight? You want to fight me in broad daylight?" Donnie asked with a half-smile.

Vampires cannot see sunlight; they will die upon exposure.

John remained noncommittal. He proposed taking the old bartender back, settling their grievances, and guaranteeing that no one would bother Donnie.

"This guy was originally a follower of our family's Ha-Ghost Clan. We've been looking for him for many years," John explained.

"He's Ha-Ghost Clan? I've never heard of that, but this person is useful to me, and I cannot hand him over," Donnie refused, lying through his teeth and pretending ignorance, stating it was impossible to hand over the old bartender.

John Thompson's smile stiffened. He didn't believe Donnie would be so "gentlemanly" and arrest someone without reason, let alone not interrogate him?

Looking at the old rogue beside him nodding and bowing, practically offering his heart, it was clear this mutant knew nothing, which was unbelievable.

The old bartender's acting was top-notch. His loyal expression could fool anyone; even an Oscar winner would have to admit defeat. The old bartender had honed his acting skills over the years, speaking appropriately to whomever he met.

Donnie glanced at the old bartender, suppressing the urge to kick him. He took a step forward, looking down at the vampire. "He is very useful to me, and I will not hand him over to you."

Donnie felt utterly disgusted saying this; he wished he could kick the old bartender to death. He suddenly thought, why not just hand the old bartender over and then fight the vampires with real weapons?

John Thompson smiled again. He straightened his back, maintaining his politeness. Despite the ugly attire, he still possessed the noble aura of a Pureblood. He told Donnie that the Thompson Family did not want to damage their relationship over a Ha-Ghost Clan member. If Donnie insisted on not handing him over, he might alienate the Thompson Family and its affiliated smaller families.

Several similarly dressed strange individuals emerged, surrounding Donnie. Nearby staff members who wanted to intervene were scared away by the red eyes of these strange people, not daring to come closer and risk death.

"Mr. Donnie, please consider one last time. Don't make a mistake," John Thompson advised Donnie one last time, his tone laced with threat. Inwardly, he was calculating, feeling the time was right. The task assigned by that person was completed, and he should leave.

Donnie remained silent for a long time. Seeing John about to leave, he narrowed his eyes and suddenly spoke, "Alright, I give in. I'll listen to you."

"What?!" John froze, stunned on the spot, looking at Donnie in disbelief. His script had absolutely no provision for this; it was completely different from what that person had instructed.

"Mr. Donnie, what did you say... you're willing to hand this old guy over to me?" John was very nervous. Despite his Pureblood physique, sweat beaded on his forehead. His tongue was tied, and he suddenly didn't know what to say next.

"Yes, he's yours," Donnie sighed, pulling the old bartender over with a look of disgust. He told John he could take him away.

John was stunned, and so was the old bartender. What was going on in this young man's mind? How could he sell out the old bartender so easily?

Donnie spread his hands, feigning innocence, saying he completely detested the old rogue and feared the Thompson Family's might. If the nobles really wanted the person, he decided to cooperate fully.

"The Thompson Family? That was a misunderstanding before, all a misunderstanding. Our grievances are settled from now on, you said so yourself." Donnie seemed to be burying the hatchet with the other party, acting very friendly.

John's cold sweat poured down. He forced himself to say, "Are you sure you've thought this through? Won't you reconsider?" He still wanted to struggle a bit longer, perhaps there was still hope.

Donnie nodded firmly, hoping to reconcile with the Thompson Family.

The onlookers, who had been driven away by these strange people in a rather pathetic manner, were urging John to take the person and leave quickly, not to claim territory here and take their share.

"This is Irish territory. Leave quickly if you don't want trouble."

"Yeah, haven't they compromised? What are you doing? Hurry up and take your people and go."

People were urging John not to be so stubborn.

Even the old bartender's eyes were darting around, very slick. He sensed something was amiss and went along with it, lying down on the ground and gesturing for the vampires to carry him away. "Following this guy, I couldn't eat or sleep well. Hurry and save me; the old days were better."

John trembled with anger, feeling embarrassed and awkward. He had the urge to strike down this old rogue and the onlookers with a single palm.