Empire of Shadows

The police car trundled from a distance, its siren emitting a low drone, as the officer in the passenger seat munched on his freshly bought doughnut.

It wasn't just any ordinary doughnut, but a deluxe version stuffed with strawberry jam, dusted with powdered sugar, and drizzled with a ring of honey—so sweet it could turn one's stomach.

But that's just how the Federation people liked it, followed by a carbonated drink and a burp filled with the smell of a swamp—that might as well be the ultimate pursuit of most Federation folks!

"What do you think Anderson is reporting to the police for this time?"

The driving officer kept his eyes on the road while speaking, "It's highly likely it's that group again."

"He must have offended someone. I inquired yesterday, and old Mike didn't know about this situation."

Old Mike, also known as Mike Owen, was a cadre of the Doug family.

Officially, Golden Port City was ruled by the Five Great Families, who reign over the entire underworld. But it wasn't to say that they were the only families. If it were true, there was a high chance they would soon become history.

In fact, each street, each district, had gangs of varying sizes managing them.

The bigger ones could consist of thousands, while the smaller might only have a handful or two of people.

The Five Great Families were simply the most elite, but it wasn't just them here.

The Doug family was one of the three major gangs in the Bay Area, and above them were the Five Great Families. Every quarter, the Doug family had to pay a certain "protection fee" to show their respect and compliance with the order of Golden Port City.

And the Five Great Families would allow them to continue operating their own family business. Such was the game rule of the underworld in Golden Port City, even stretching across the Federation.

No one could monopolize the profits, whether they were the bottom-level lackeys or the apex of the upper tiers.

After the officer returned yesterday, he made a phone call to old Mike to see if he knew about the incident. Old Mike was not aware, nor did he plan to involve himself.

The Doug family didn't rely on collecting fees from businesses alongside the road for profit; such petty cash was beneath them, hence they had no direct connection to Mr. Anderson.

Although street gangs under the Doug family had once come to collect the fee, they were berated by him. Moreover, since Mr. Anderson knew some notable figures, the family didn't want any trouble over just a monthly protection fee of a few dollars.

Therefore, they told their gangs to avoid any contact with Mr. Anderson. When old Mike heard that Mr. Anderson was hassled again, he wasn't upset; in fact, he was quite pleased.

"That old dog ought to learn his lesson that paying us isn't extortion; it's purely for his protection!"

The officer quite agreed with old Mike's shameless bandit rhetoric, since he would use similar methods to get some benefits himself.

The driving officer just shrugged indifferently, freeing one hand to fish out a cigarette and light it. "I don't care who's giving him trouble; I just want him to know that calling the police is free, but dispatching us costs money."

His partner chuckled, still laughing and munching on the doughnut, delighted.

Soon after, the car stopped at the roadside, just in time to see Anderson running back from a distance. The officer barely stepped out to greet Mr. Anderson when he suddenly covered his nose, "My God, what the hell is that smell? Did someone shit their pants?"

His partner pointed to the side of the road, "I don't know if anyone has shit their pants, but someone definitely did it on the ground."

There was a faint yellow puddle on the ground, with the moisture baked out by the fierce sun, yet the stench loomed in the air.

Mr. Anderson was gasping, "Those... damn it, they've done it again!"

The officer moved a little to the side, "Came to occupy the tables again?"

Mr. Anderson took a deep breath, "They... came and shat right in front of my restaurant, and it was diarrhea, for fuck's sake!"

"Fack!"

"These motherfucking sons of bitches should all be drowned in a toilet!"

The officer looked bemused, "So, you called us here because someone shit on the ground in front of your restaurant?"

Mr. Anderson looked shocked, "Am I not supposed to call you for this?"

The officer felt better, probably getting used to the stench; getting accustomed to a pungent sensation as a human was a curvilinear process, with initial tolerance building quickly, but full acceptance taking much longer.

"How do you expect me to deal with these homeless people?"

"Arrest them and lock them up just because they shit in public?"

"Although what they did was somewhat wrong, all we would do is drive them away and report the incident to the city management."

Public defecation was always a headache in the Federation, despite being touted as the beacon of civilization in the Federation and some countries.

But here, the number of people defecating in the open far exceeded that in some less developed countries!

Regardless of gender, in downtrodden areas, if the need arose, they would drop their pants and defecate, even in the middle of the road, then pull up their trousers without wiping and walk away.

Previously, attempts were made to apprehend them, but the cost of deploying police resources to arrest a person for public defecation far outweighed the significance of the arrest.

No one would think twice about scampering home to use the toilet or heading to a burger joint to buy a burger and use the bathroom there just because they were arrested for public urination or defecation once.

So, this matter was largely ignored by most cities, and this time, it involved homeless people; you couldn't squeeze blood from a stone. When brought in, they would still need to be fed and bathed, and even given a set of new clothes.

The Director would call him a "stupid pig" for half an hour, as a reminder not to repeat such foolishness.

He didn't want to deal with it.

Mr. Anderson was very angry, after days of accumulating rage, he blurted out something regrettable in extreme anger, "I only gave you twenty dollars."

The officer's expression also soured, he knew this person was trouble, but still didn't like the feeling.

His partner came around from the other side of the car, hand resting on his gun holster, though he wouldn't really draw his gun to shoot, this kind of pressure is unbearable for most people.

The officer was quite annoyed, "Or should I just give you back the twenty dollars?"

At this moment, Mr. Anderson realized his mistake and repeatedly apologized, "I didn't mean that, I..."

The officer didn't want to say anything more to him, it was just twenty dollars, and he had only split ten dollars himself!

He took out twenty dollars, threw it to the ground, then turned and walked to the car, picked up the radio, "GPPD... officer responding... to the alarm number, we've arrived on scene, haven't found any problems, it may be a false alarm."

A few seconds later, a reply came through the radio, "Acknowledged. Please return to the precinct and stand by... officer."

The officer glanced at Mr. Anderson, got back into the car, his hand resting on the edge of the window, "If you report another false alarm, I'll take it up with my superiors."

"And, don't forget, this area is my beat!"

Saying so, he stepped on the gas and took off.

The officer didn't really want to bother with this matter, no matter who caused it, he couldn't make any money off Mr. Anderson anyway, occasionally getting some pocket money was just added nuisance.

It was just twenty dollars, did he really think it mattered that much?

The manager watched everything happen, besides sighing silently, he didn't know what else to say.

He went over to the roadside to pick up the twenty dollars, Mr. Anderson's cooking skills were impeccable, anyone who had tasted his food would praise its deliciousness.

But he was terrible at dealing with people and managing the business, or else he wouldn't have almost closed down last year due to poor management.

It was only after hiring the manager that things began to improve.

"These greedy mutts, go back and gnaw on your mother's corpse!" Mr. Anderson flipped off the retreating police car.

Turning his head, he saw the manager.

He was very satisfied with this manager, since his arrival, the restaurant's sales had been climbing steadily.

Even though there was no change to the food prepared in the kitchen, people just started dining here, all of which was, of course, credit to the manager's efforts.

He was quite tolerant of the manager.

"You've antagonized the police, who's going to protect us now?" the manager was a bit angry too.

Mr. Anderson didn't care, "I'll call and make a complaint against them, and I know… Mr…, he has some connection with the precinct director."

He seemed to speak without thinking through his words, having connections didn't mean he did, and making use of someone else's favors could come at an unknown price.

The issue could have been resolved with a few kind words and a little extra cash, yet it was handled so badly.

"Can you explain why these people come here every day?"

Mr. Anderson asked the apprentice and waitstaff to continue cleaning up the mess on the ground, speaking in a low voice, "Last year due to many things I ran out of cash, and the restaurant needed funds for turnover, so I borrowed some money from a high-interest loan."

The manager realized just how 'talented' Mr. Anderson was, but still braced himself to ask, "And then?"

"I borrowed two thousand yuan, but they want me to pay back five thousand, there's no way I can repay that, so all this happened."

The manager tried to persuade him, "Maybe if you repay the money, all this will end."

Mr. Anderson, who had been patient, suddenly couldn't keep his composure, his voice raised dramatically, "Expect me to repay that money?"

"I won't give a dime to that greedy mongrel even if I'm in a coffin!"

"There are some things we can discuss, but this is off the table!"

"They just wanna come here to shit, right?"

"Let them, I want to see how much they can shit!"

Across the road, Lance watched everything unfold, the two vagrants were already sweating profusely.

Lance gave them a sign and they bolted towards the entrance of the restaurant; Mr. Anderson and the manager saw them coming, but hesitated to stop them.

The image of the apprentice covered in filth seemed to linger in their memory, that hesitation was all it took, and with a "tongtong" sound, the just-cleaned ground was splashed with another layer of filth.

Then out of nowhere, two journalists appeared, and before they could react, they snapped a couple of photos and fled.

The manager thought of chasing after them but it was too late, he suddenly felt a sense of despair.

Just when life seemed to be improving, it looked to be sliding back towards the abyss...