Empire of Shadows

He adjusted his police cap and walked towards the nearest table.

It was a young man who looked to be only nineteen. He appeared slightly frightened, but remembering what Lance had instructed them before he arrived, he managed to keep relatively calm even though he felt scared.

The officer sat down beside him, looking at him with an aggressive gaze, "Do you know anyone else here?"

The young man shook his head, "I don't know anyone."

"I actually know who sent you here, and if you don't want to spend some time in jail, you'd better tell me the truth."

The young man bit his lip and said nothing; in fact, he was less frightened because he had been forewarned by Lance about this exact situation and how to deal with it.

Seeing that the young man was clearly a bit scared yet remained calm and silent, the officer's face grew warm.

"Are you an Imperial person?"

"Yes."

"Take out your permanent residence card, I think you are an illegal immigrant..."

Who the hell carries that around every day?

But this young man did take out his permanent residence card, and looking at the card, the officer was a bit stunned but soon realized that this was definitely organized.

Actually, by this point, he was somewhat reluctant to get involved, who knows how big the matter behind this was, but he had taken the money and had to show some effort.

"This card... could be fake. I need you to come with me," he thought of a good idea, taking one person with him and leaving the others alone. It would appease the twenty dollars he received and not disrupt their plan.

The young man didn't seem scared by this, instead, he relaxed his mood and tense nerves, "Do you have a subpoena or an arrest warrant?"

"Also, if you insist on making me leave with you, I want to call my lawyer first."

The officer's previously relaxed faint smile disappeared from his face, he placed the card back on the table, pointed at the young man, then stood up, holding his belt.

This allowed the young man, and the other youths, to breathe a sigh of relief.

Without a subpoena or arrest warrant, and not being found stopping a crime in process requiring removal, this was a violation of procedural rules.

The consequences of violating procedural rules could be mild, a verbal apology, but could also be severe, losing a job.

The officer didn't dare to gamble, who knows whether the person organizing these young men might blow this incident up.

He went back to Mr. Anderson and whispered, "Look, they came prepared. My recommendation is that you should close the restaurant now if you can."

Without waiting for Mr. Anderson to say anything, he left the restaurant with his face cold, accompanied by the other three officers.

Outside the restaurant, although feeling annoyed, he still gave the other two officers five dollars, at least making the turnout worthwhile.

As for the remaining fifteen, he would give five to his partner and keep ten for himself.

The police quickly left, and those young men who had been somewhat tense now felt completely unburdened, each showing a smile that came from the heart.

Wasn't this making money a bit too easy?

Just a bit boring.

Seeing the police were of no use, Mr. Anderson scanned the seventeen tables and eventually sat down opposite Enio.

He felt that Enio seemed to be the leader among them, as he had the air of a leader.

"I don't know if you are their boss, but I'll comp your group's meals and additionally give you fifty yuan if you take your people and leave my restaurant."

At that moment, as Enio was opening new doors with this unusual job, there was no way he could accept such a condition, especially since it was too little.

He glanced sideways at Mr. Anderson, picked up a small piece of bread, wiped some sauce along the edge of the salad plate, and stuffed it into his mouth, swallowing it in a couple of bites, "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Anderson."

His lukewarm attitude infuriated Mr. Anderson even more. "You know who I am, yet you don't know what I'm talking about?"

"Was it that bastard Alberto who sent you?"

"Or that little mongrel I met a few days ago?"

"You sons of bitches will get what's coming to you!"

Enio waited until he had almost finished cursing, then said, "Are you done?"

"Once you're done, I'll continue my meal. Also, Mr. Anderson, although you are the owner here, you've interrupted my meal and insulted me. I will retain the right to sue you for defamation."

Mr. Anderson glared at him, wanting to bore a hole through him, but eventually, he just slammed the table forcefully and gave up.

In the afternoon, those people were still there. Mr. Anderson called the police again, and the police repeated their usual excuses, but this time, they did not ask him for money.

No one had said they couldn't eat until the afternoon before they started, and kicking them out now could lead to legal trouble.

Moreover, the sympathetic officer helped him analyze, "If someone really organized this disturbance, do you think they'd want you to initiate a lawsuit against them?"

That comment took the wind out of Mr. Anderson's sails.

He even called his lawyer. After seeing the situation, the lawyer told him the best thing to do now was to wait until closing.

With the current tension between immigrants and natives, if this situation were seen as a blind attack by natives against immigrants, his restaurant might not survive in Golden Port City, and he himself might not have a space to live here.

Only tomorrow, when he posted the dining time regulations and certain mandatory table-sharing rules on a notice board outside the restaurant, would he have the right to expel these people.

But for now, he had to endure.

After paying the lawyer sixty dollars as a consultation fee, Mr. Anderson loathed these people, Lance, and that Alberto!

It wasn't until after 8 p.m., when the Bay Area had begun to quiet down, that these fatigued people who had sat all day finally finished their meals and left in unison.

Mr. Anderson went from the back hall to the front door and saw a scene that nearly made his eyeballs pop out of his head!

Right across the street, in front of him, Lance was shaking hands and hugging these young people, slipping five dollars into their hands!

That son of a bitch, he knew it was him!

He strode over, but then thought of something and stopped; it was late at night, which spelled danger, and who knew what those young people across the street might do.

After Lance casually finished distributing the money and had them take the last bus away, he walked over with his hands in his pockets.

Ethan and Elvin were right behind him.

Seeing Lance so blatantly provoking him, Mr. Anderson's blood pressure soared, his face flushing red even in the darkness of night!

"Do you think I would give in?"

"You son of a whore!"

He almost pointed right at Lance's nose as he roared, "I will never compromise, you, and your boss Alberto, won't get a damn dime from me!"

Lance, however, didn't take the insults to heart—after all, he always believed that everyone had to pay a price for their actions, or reap the benefits.

"Mr. Anderson, you don't think it ends here, do you?"

"To be honest, I have thousands of ways to torment you anew each day. If you wish to see your restaurant and you driven out of Golden Port City over those five thousand yuan, we can keep trying."

"Speaking of which, aren't you looking forward to tomorrow's challenge?"

"What do you think I'll do this time?"

He shook his head with a half-smile, his gaze full of confidence as he looked at Mr. Anderson, like he was watching a loser...