Chapter 112The entrance gate to the vil zone was grand. More than a dozen security guards stood posted outside. Overhead, two gleaming gold characters: "Golden Shore."

  Richie's car rolled straight into Golden Shore with zero resistance. The roads were spotless, not a leaf out of pce. Trimmed greenery lined the sides, shaped with care. Uniformed sentries stood watch at regur intervals.

  All of it whispered one thing:

  The happiness of the rich is shockingly dull.

  From the back seat, Yoren asked the driver casually,

  "So who's coming to this party?"

  The driver answered immediately, professional and ft.

  "Four local Chamber of Commerce heads. The head of transport for the light manganese ore operation. Simon and Ajie from the East District. Boss Reddy. Kit and Boss Benson were supposed to be here too, but they were badly injured. You're the only one from the casino, Brother Yoren."

  "Benson's not dead?"

  "No, but they say he's in a bad way. Might never walk again."

  Yoren wasn't too surprised. Benson, infected as he was, wasn’t an average fighter. And Yoren hadn't exactly aimed to kill him that day. Still, Benson was a beast. Just one that happened to run into a bigger one.

  Another five minutes inside Golden Shore, the car pulled up in front of a four-story vil, styled with a touch of retro css. No need to ask. This was Richie's private residence.

  The guards at the door didn’t recognize Yoren, but they sure acted like they did.

  "Brother Yoren! You’re finally here. We’ve been waiting. Come on in."

  "Appreciate it."

  "No trouble at all."

  Inside, Yoren barely looked at the decor. Opulence dripped from every inch. The carpet beneath his boots was so plush it might as well have bounced.

  A ckey led him straight to the second-floor lounge. Eight or nine people lounged across sofas, drinks in hand.

  These weren’t small-timers. The aura said it all: these were the true power pyers of Happy City’s nightlife.

  Some gave Yoren a nod as he entered. Others didn’t bother looking.

  Nothing strange there. Everyone here answered to Richie, but Yoren was still new. No need for polite formalities.

  He said nothing, picked an empty seat on the couch, and casually grabbed an apple off the table.

  "You’re Yoren?"

  "Hm?"

  He turned. A young man was grinning at him with something sly in his eyes.

  The guy looked twenty-five, maybe twenty-six. Not very tall, but thickly built, fists like anvils. He sat rexed, wearing a pin T-shirt, white-dyed hair, earrings glinting.

  Yoren bit into the apple. "Yeah, that’s me. Who are you?"

  "Simon. I run the East District."

  He stretched out his hand with a mocking grin.

  "Heard you crippled Benson. Not bad, not bad. Got potential. C’mon, let’s shake."

  Yoren hesitated. This guy had a vibe. Too casual, too confident. Since he brought up Benson, it meant one of two things:

  Either Benson was a close friend, and this was a grudge handshake.

  Or Benson was competition, and Simon was loving it.

  "Just luck," Yoren replied coolly, gripping Simon’s hand.

  Their eyes met.

  Simon leaned in a bit and whispered, "That bastard Benson should’ve been gone long ago. The East District's not big enough for three bosses. Still, I’m surprised someone like you took him down."

  Before Yoren could process that, pain exploded in his fingers.

  Simon's grip turned ironcd. He was crushing Yoren’s hand like a vice.

  Yoren grimaced, face flushing. His body, changed by the ore disease and the bck-white twins, was far beyond average now—but still not quite up to Simon's level without drawing on the bck power.

  The other bosses kept chatting, oblivious.

  Yoren grit his teeth, weighing whether to summon the power and turn this whole vil into a crater—

  Then a calm, deep voice cut through the room.

  "Yoren, you're here."

  Simon instantly released his grip.

  "Boss Richie!"

  Everyone rose from their seats.

  "Boss Richie. Good evening."

  Richie walked in, loose-fitting clothes, face unreadable. He nodded at them.

  "Sit down, sit down. No outsiders here, let’s keep it rexed."

  His gaze shifted to Yoren, who was still flexing his sore fingers.

  "How was your first day running the casino? Everything smooth?"

  Yoren looked a little annoyed.

  "Could’ve been better."

  Simon leaned back, smug grin in pce.

  "Haha, Boss Richie, you really put him in charge of the casino? If you're running low on options, I could take it. I already handle the East District. I'd make it work."

  Yoren stared straight ahead, the apple now crushed in his palm.

  And just like that, the game had begun.

  Seeing Simon's expression and tone, Yoren finally realized just how much this guy deserved a beating before.

  He really wanted to grab Simon by the colr, spit in his face, and yell, "You're responsible for the skin of a winter melon! I swear, I want to puff your face up like a balloon."

  Richie merely gnced at Simon and ignored his arrogant words. Yoren noticed that look and figured this kid had probably always been this infuriating. Sadly, he was good—really good—so Richie had no choice but to let him run his mouth unchecked.

  Just then, Reddy appeared from the corridor.

  "Boss, dinner is ready."

  Richie gave a nod and turned to everyone in the living room.

  "Let’s eat and talk at the table."

  "Yes."

  Everyone got up and followed Reddy into the dining room. Simon shot Yoren a contemptuous look before getting up and whistling his way to the table.

  Richie gave Yoren a light pat on the shoulder as he finally stood.

  "Don’t stoop to his level. That kid’s used to being arrogant. He’s not someone who’ll ever accomplish anything real."

  "It’s fine, I’m a very generous person."

  Richie nodded, pleased.

  "That’s good. To put it bluntly, we all work for the Chamber of Commerce. You’re all brothers now. Retionships can be built through cooperation down the road. I’m gd you understand that."

  "Of course. We all point our guns outward, not at each other."

  Richie had a hard job managing this many people. To Yoren, Simon’s arrogance was actually par for the course. That kind of guy, proud and easily provoked, was the textbook gangster. Yoren was used to dealing with people like him. It was the ones with grudges bottled up, the brooding types, that always made him uncomfortable.

  Richie paused and continued.

  "I gave it some thought today. The casino doesn’t have any major issues right now, so there’s no need for you to intern. Starting today, you’re fully in charge. Focus on establishing your authority—you can learn the ropes as you go."

  "Thank you, boss, for your trust."

  "You earned it."

  Something clicked in Yoren's mind.

  "Oh right, I arranged a new security guard for the casino today. He’s a close friend of mine. What do you think, boss?"

  "That’s your call. Whether he takes a sary or a cut is also up to you. You’re in charge now. I just want the casino running smoothly and turning a profit."

  "Understood."

  Yoren could tell from the look in Richie's eyes—he’d let his guard down. He truly saw Yoren as one of his own now. And beyond that, he was showing signs that he intended to groom him further.

  As the boss, Richie needed bance. Benson had been an important part of that bance, but now he was gone. Guys like Simon, with their ambitions, threw things off. Yoren was Richie's counterweight—his way of tipping the scales back.

  At the table, the toasts began. Everyone took their turn raising a gss to Richie. They drank heartily, while Richie merely sipped.

  These old-timers were clearly hardened. They drank more than they ate, and even after several rounds, not a single expression changed.

  Only Yoren dug into the food like he was trying to reincarnate before dessert.

  After the third round of drinks, the real business began.

  The leaders responsible for different operations in the Chamber of Commerce started giving their reports.

  A total of 167 shops and factories had joined the Chamber in Hapi City—everything from restaurants to textiles, sports equipment, auto parts, hardware, and light industrial goods.

  Through their discussion, Yoren began to understand what the Chamber really was.

  The Freddo Chamber of Commerce’s strength in southern Victoria came from its unique business model. Traditional gangs were limited in scope—mostly because they didn’t know how to branch out. Why bother learning new skills or paying outsiders when making money the dirty way was so much easier?

  Freddo changed that by going all in on "monopoly" and "integration."

  It wasn’t about pulling in infected folks—it was about pulling in entire industries. Once a store joined, the Chamber collected detailed data: how many simir businesses existed, where their branches were, how they performed. It was all tracked.

  Take Matang restaurants, for example. If eight out of ten in a city joined Freddo, then Freddo controlled the pricing. A coordinated price hike or cut from those eight would shift the entire market. And if the two outliers refused to py along, well… they’d be handled.

  Idealistic? Sure. Impossible? Not here.

  In this world, the Freddo Chamber of Commerce had made it reality. That’s how they became one of the South’s biggest powers.

  Due to natural disasters, cities became isoted. Communication slowed, and with nobles and local officials constantly locking horns, influence and profit were things that could be negotiated openly. That gave Freddo its opening.

  Getting started wasn’t easy—it took guts and a ton of firepower. Gangs provided that brute force. When lives and livelihoods were threatened, people were willing to accept the impossible.

  If you wanted to open a store, you paid Freddo. In return, you were protected and supplied. The Chamber also gained massive control over smuggling channels.

  Today, from Notting City, the Freddo Chamber of Commerce extended its reach to two rge cities and eleven smaller ones—including Hapi City.

  Despite being mid-sized, Hapi was special—it had light manganese ore.

  Freddo’s three big money-makers:

  Store monopolies and protection fees.

  Entertainment and nightlife.

  Smuggling.

  And in smuggling, light manganese ore accounted for nearly half of their revenue. Hapi was crucial.

  After the reports from the Chamber heads, the floor went to the boss in charge of smuggling and transport.

  Technically, he wasn’t under Richie—he reported directly to HQ and rarely showed up in Hapi. He cooperated with Richie only when needed, though he still respectfully called him Boss Richie.

  After giving his update, the man looked visibly stressed.

  "Boss Richie, here’s the problem. Our goods are suddenly out of stock. We can’t expin it to Minos or our Syracuse partners. Even Rem Billiton’s biggest customer is breathing down our necks. This is bad. We’re not the only ones smuggling light manganese ore."

  Richie rubbed his temples, irritated.

  "There’s nothing we can do. Mr. Frido is coming to Hapi in a few days to meet with Mr. Donde and figure something out. Until then, just keep things stable."

  "Boss Richie, did you catch the person who set the fire?"

  "Catch who? We don’t even know if it was a man or a woman, or how many people were involved."

  "Damn it. If I find out who it was, I’ll skin them alive."

  Yoren, sitting nearby, patted his full belly and took a leisurely sip of wine.

  "Yeah, yeah, if I ever find out who’s causing all this damage, I’ll break their legs myself. Burp~~~"