Empire of Shadows

A scalp-tingling sensation began to rise from Kent's soles, then quickly passed over his perineum and finally rushed up his spine to the top of his head!

Everywhere this tingling sensation passed, his body would break out in goosebumps.

The desire to survive is humanity's most primal, instinctive, and intense desire!

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and just as he was about to speak, Lance pointed to the large portion of meat and said, "Don't waste it, eat the meat."

This book is first published on the entire network by 𝕥 𝕨 𝕜 𝕒 𝕟 . 𝕔 𝕠 𝕞

Including him and all the henchmen, there were eight people in total. The dealers weren't here; they would only come when it was time to start business.

These dealers with skills could find places to work anytime, anywhere. They had their own small circles and high incomes.

They wouldn't help with any dirty work, so they weren't here now.

Eight adults, and the trusted henchmen alone had bought six knuckles, each about two pounds, boneless.

It wasn't this much at first, but the henchmen weren't exactly rich, they were poor people, and their desire for meat wasn't much less than those poor people on the streets.

Buying too little was never enough to eat, and they would even have unpleasant arguments over grabbing meat, so now he bought enough each time, along with four pounds of bread and some degreasing vegetable salad.

This stuff that originally took eight people to finish, now he had to finish it all by himself?

That was obviously impossible!

"I can't eat anymore," he stated again that he had no appetite.

Lance shook the Mckreigh semi-automatic pistol in his hand, "Bullets, or meat?"

Anyone faced with such a multiple-choice question would most likely choose meat.

Kent was the same. He lowered his head and continued to grab the meat chunks with his hands, trying to crush the lean meat that occupied half of the knuckles to make it easier to swallow.

The thorough mixing of fingers and fat made him feel even more nauseous. The aroma of meat and fat from just now kept making him want to vomit, but he still had to eat.

While eating, he said, "Lance, I'm completely convinced. I won't retaliate against you. This matter ends here."

"In the future, you continue to do your business, and I'll run my casino. No one knows what happened, and no one will bother you..."

He looked up at Lance, saying this while continuously stuffing meat into his mouth.

Lance didn't say anything, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, which made him even more unsure.

"This was originally just a small matter. I apologize for all my actions yesterday," he glanced at Ennio standing behind Lance, "This young man is called Ennio, right?"

"I'll give him another three thousand dollars and introduce you to a doctor, free of charge. I believe three thousand dollars is enough for you to get your arm treated and still have some left over."

"This is my fault, it's all my fault..."

He gradually straightened up, testing Lance's bottom line, but Lance pointed the gun in his hand diagonally at his head, tapping the muzzle a few times, signaling him to continue eating.

The two stared at each other again for a moment. He couldn't see anything in Lance's eyes. He was silent for a few seconds, stopped pleading, and lowered his head to start eating the meat in large bites.

The atmosphere in the entire basement became particularly oppressive, with almost everyone's attention on Kent.

He ate and felt nauseous, retching. He had already eaten too much. His body instinctively began to reject what he had eaten, but he had only eaten half so far, at most only sixty percent, and there was still half waiting for him!

After a few more minutes, he ate slower and slower. Kent, who had always felt that filling his stomach was a pleasure, felt pain for the first time because he had eaten too much!

His stomach, his belly, felt like it was about to explode!

Even breathing would make his stomach ache!

If he ate any more, he would definitely burst himself to death!

"I... can't do it anymore!" He let go of the meat in his hand, holding the small table with both hands, not daring to straighten up, "Help me call an ambulance, I feel like my stomach is about to explode."

Lance turned to look at Ethan, "Mr. Kent isn't willing to be dignified, Ethan, help him be dignified."

Ethan stood there for about two or three seconds, doing some mental preparation, and then walked over expressionlessly.

Kent's eyes were full of horror. He wanted to escape, but as soon as he stood up, Ethan pressed him back with one hand on his shoulder!

Then, regardless of his struggles and pleas, he grabbed the things on the table and forced them into his mouth!

Lance sat opposite him, took out a cigarette, and Elvin lit it for him with a match. He crossed his legs, squinted slightly, and watched Ethan help Kent stuff the meat into his mouth, down his esophagus.

He struggled frantically, hitting Ethan's body and arms, but Ethan's strength was too great. Soon Kent went from a bent-over posture to lying on his back, and his movements of hitting Ethan became weaker and weaker.

Seven or eight minutes later, after his last slap on Ethan's arm, he directly drooped down, and the whole person was motionless.

Ethan felt under his nose, and then whispered, "He's dead."

Lance curled his lips. The atmosphere in the room was obviously much more oppressive. Then he stood up and looked at Ennio, "I've solved the biggest problem for you. Now it's your arm's problem. Will you do it yourself, or will I?"

One of the henchmen was stunned for a moment, his face already covered in sweat. He knelt on the ground with a thud and began to beg for mercy.

Dead people and not dead people were completely two different concepts to them.

If they tormented Kent to the point of being on his last breath, but Kent didn't die, they wouldn't be afraid.

For them, as long as they didn't die, there was nothing serious.

But now Kent was dead, they had no reason not to be afraid.

He blamed the matter of breaking Ennio's arm yesterday on Kent. In short, these things had nothing to do with him, and he was just a poor man.

Elvin walked to Ennio's side and gave him the gun in his hand, "Stick to your own choice, no one will blame you, and neither will Lance."

"You just need to remember that we are brothers, we are family, we will support you, and we will avenge you, that's enough!"

He was telling Ennio in this way that he could go and solve this person, or he could choose to give up. This was his decision, and Lance wouldn't make things difficult for him.

He thought of the past, of his mother who he still didn't know where she was, of the father who was always outside, eager to be accepted by the Federation, eager to become a lucky one in the Federation's dream, but always failed and loved domestic violence, and of his unfortunate and poor childhood.

He also thought of the money that could make people happy.

He looked at the revolver in his hand for a long time before asking, "How do you use it?"

"This is the safety, it's already open, then aim, and pull the trigger," Elvin taught him the simple way to use the gun.

He took a few steps, aimed at the henchman, and regardless of the other party's tear-reddened eyes and the plea on his face that had long been indistinguishable from tears or snot, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet shot into the henchman's shoulder. He immediately fell down and wanted to play dead, but what he didn't know was that Ennio seemed to have figured something out. He wanted to vent all the past, all the injustice and hatred in his life.

He walked over and aimed at the "corpse" and continuously pulled the trigger. At first, the henchman wanted to resist, but after taking a shot in the forehead, his whole body lost strength.

When the sound of the "clang clang" firing pin hitting the empty primer came several times, he hesitantly retracted the pistol, standing beside him somewhat woodenly.

He had many things to think about, life, the past, the future, and even thinking about himself.

Some of the other henchmen had already realized something, but before they could react, Lance made a small gesture. After a burst of crackling gunfire, there was no one else standing in the room.

Looking at the trusted henchmen's wide-eyed, unblinking eyes, Lance was somewhat annoyed, "Damn it, I said I was going to spare his life, but you guys..." He sighed, "Am I going back on my word?"

Elvin said with a smile, "I did it, it has nothing to do with you, Lance."

Lance patted him on the shoulder, then cleaned up a bit, and then left together.

From the moment he walked out of the basement, the scorching sunlight shone on the whole world, and even some places in this alley were covered by the sunlight.

But there were always some places that would never be favored by the sunlight.

Those mosses in the corners of the walls, those dark and humid places, if one day, your life is shrouded in shadows, and the sunlight can't reach you.

Then please, set up a lamp for yourself, don't let yourself be swallowed by the darkness!

Whether this lamp is gunfire, or something else!

Everyone's mentality, at this moment, has undergone tremendous changes, and at the same time, there are some voices in their hearts telling them to become stronger!

Everyone, more than ever before, craved power, craved everything!

Lance drove everyone back, including Ennio and his friends, it was just a little crowded.

After returning to the company, Lance counted the money he had taken back from Kent's safe, more than thirty-three thousand dollars.

He put thirty thousand dollars into the safe. He wanted to thank Mr. Kent for contributing a substantial force to his development in the early stages of his career.

As for the remaining money, he divided it all up.

Everyone got more than a hundred dollars.

"Go back and take a shower, buy a new set of clothes, new shoes, and then eat a good meal, and come back to work!"

Lance looked at Ennio, and those of his friends around him, "If you don't mind, the company also welcomes you!"