Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 119 upgrade complete, level 10!

Chapter 119 upgrade complete, level 10!
This righteous and stern rebuke left Samuel Black blushing and sweating profusely.

He knew, of course, that the senator was using this as an excuse to back down.

But he reacted quickly!

"You're right, Your Excellency Senator!"

The mayor slapped himself hard across the face: "You're absolutely right. This is my dereliction of duty, my crime as mayor!"

After saying that, he turned sharply to Qingshan and forced a sincere smile: "Mr. Qingshan, on behalf of the San Francisco city government, I apologize to you and all the Chinese brothers!"

"I swear, as soon as this rebellion is quelled, the city government will immediately allocate funds to rebuild Chinatown. We will build it into a place as beautiful as the financial district, and we will improve the living conditions of all Chinese laborers!"

After saying this, Crestwood nodded in satisfaction.

Qingshan finally slapped his forehead, looking as if he had just realized something.

"Oh dear, look at me, look at my brain..."

He strode forward, grabbed Samuel's arm, and then held Crestwood's hand tightly.

"Senator, Mayor, you actually treat us Chinese laborers like brothers?"

"Of course!"

Crestwood gripped his hand in return: "We've always been brothers!"

"Okay, okay!"

Aoyama nodded excitedly, "Since the senator and the mayor treat us like brothers, I can't just stand by and watch my brothers go out and take risks!"

"Stay, stay here as long as you want, until your National Guard kills all the scum outside!"

"Oh, Mr. Aoyama, you are such a kind person!"

Barkley was the first to shout it out.

"No!"

Qingshan interrupted him, saying righteously, "How can I let my brother live in such a place?"

He turned around and gestured to the entrance of the Chinese Youth Association headquarters: "Come on, let's go to our Chinese Youth Association headquarters to rest. Although it's small, it's clean and has hot coffee!"

"Thank you so much!"

Barkley, the senator's family, the mayor and his wife—these key figures were warmly invited by Aoyama to the heavenly two-story building.

"Let's go too! Hurry up and catch up!"

The remaining bankers, judges, ranchers, and their families excitedly followed behind, eager to escape this damned pigsty.

But they had only taken two steps when they were stopped by a row of men in black.

Mai Ling stood at the entrance of the main hall, a smile on her face.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen."

"The venue for the Chinese Youth Association is too small."

“Mr. Aoyama has already overloaded himself with gratitude for his most sincere friend, so…”

She tilted her head slightly, a gesture that should have been alluring, but now it was only cold: "There's no room for so many ordinary friends there."

"Ordinary friends?"
These four words pierced the hearts of these bankers, ranchers, and judges.

They are the masters of San Francisco, when did they ever fall into the category of "ordinary"?

"what do you mean?"

Jeffrey demanded in a shrill voice, "We're with the Senator!"

"Oh?"

Mai Ling raised an eyebrow: "But all I heard was the promise from the Senator and the Mayor to rebuild the homes of our Chinese brothers. Mr. Jeffrey..."

Her beautiful almond-shaped eyes narrowed: "I... I don't think I heard your voice."

"I!"

Jeffrey choked.

The group immediately understood.

What a fucking, damn small place.

What fucking brotherhood? This is extortion!

That's outrageous opportunism!
"You, you guys!"

A land speculator trembled with rage: "This is extortion! This is a crime!"

Mak Ling's smile vanished instantly.

"Sir, the crime is being committed by the Irish outside. It's that Councilor Davis's body is still hanging on the lamppost, and nobody dares to claim it."

"but me."

She stepped forward, her composed demeanor making everyone breathless: "I'm offering you an opportunity. A chance to live."

She stepped back over the threshold and clapped her hands lightly.

Two men in black carried out a small mahogany table with a thick ledger on it.

"what is this?"

"Mr. Aoyama said that rebuilding Chinatown cannot rely solely on the mayor's promises."

Mak Ling slowly opened the ledger: "This requires investment. A kind investment from our new friends."

"invest?"

“That’s right. Considering everyone’s status and the risks outside, Mr. Aoyama has set a very fair price.”

"Fifty thousand silver dollars, let's get started."

Jeffrey couldn't take it anymore; this was no different from taking his life!
"Fifty thousand? Why don't you just rob us? This is robbery!"

"Mr. Jeffrey."

Mak Ling's smile remained impeccable: "Robbery is what the thugs outside are doing. I'm just offering you a ticket to live comfortably through the night and to keep your wives and daughters from screaming."

She pushed the ledger forward a little.

"Fifty thousand silver dollars to buy your life and the life of your whole family. Gentlemen, I personally think this is a very good deal."

Fifty thousand is not a small sum for any of them.

This is equivalent to more than half a year's net profit for them.

However, Jeffrey glanced at the tightly closed door, then looked back at the wooden shack he had just escaped from, which was worse than a pigsty, and finally thought of Davis, who was still hanging outside the alley entrance.

"I sign!"

The first to compromise was a judge who was the least noticeable.

He shoved Jeffrey away abruptly, picked up the pen with trembling hands, and said, "I'll sign, but I don't have that much money on me right now!"

"of course."

Mak Ling smiled even more broadly: "We trust your credibility. Sign here and write down the amounts you have promised. After the crisis is over, my people will personally take this ledger to your banks or homes to collect the payments."

"Damn it, I'll sign it too!"

"Me too, fifty thousand it is!"

With the first, there is the second.

That so-called dignity of the upper class is nothing but a fart in the face of the most primal desire to survive.

“Very well, next one, oh, Mr. Henderson?”

When it was the turn of a middle-aged man wearing a tweed vest, Mak Ling suddenly stopped him.

This man is Henderson, the owner of the San Francisco Chronicle.

Beside him was a young, beautiful blonde woman, who was clearly not his wife.

Yes. It's me.

Henderson was a little nervous: "Ms. Mailing, I, I'll sign too."

"Don't rush, Mr. Henderson."

Mai Ling closed the ledger and looked at him with sympathy: "I heard that the Chronicle's office was smashed by those Irish thugs last night? That's so unfortunate."

Henderson's face twitched.

It wasn't just smashed; those bastards set fire to his printing press and even killed his editor, Martin!
"Yes, madam. It was a disaster."

"so."

Mai Ling then changed the subject: "Our boss has always been very sympathetic to intellectuals, and he has always been very interested in the interesting business of running a newspaper."

Henderson's heart skipped a beat; he suddenly had a very ominous premonition!

“Your newspaper office is now a ruin, isn’t it? A distressed asset. But our Mr. Aoyama is kind; he’s willing to buy it.” “What? Buy it?”

Henderson was stunned: "I didn't say I wanted to sell?"

"No, you will sell it," Mr. Aoyama said. "Your burnt-down newspaper office, along with your printing presses and your staff who can write, he estimates it for 20,000 silver dollars."

"What? Twenty thousand? My German-imported rotary printing press is worth thirty thousand!"

“Mr. Henderson.”

Mai Ling coldly interrupted him: "Your printing press is now a pile of scrap metal. And your admission ticket is fifty thousand."

She reopened the ledger and pushed it in front of him.

"Now, you have two choices."

"Either you reject our friendship and leave Chinatown. Go back to your lousy newspaper office, though I suppose the thugs outside might be more than happy to have a chat with you and your little lover."

"Either you sign here, agreeing to transfer the newspaper to the Chinese Youth Association for 20,000 silver dollars. That way, the 20,000 can be used to offset your admission ticket. You only need to pay another 30,000 silver dollars in cash to get in."

"You, you guys!"

Henderson was trembling with rage: "This is robbery! This is the act of banditry!"

"Honey."

At that moment, his blonde lover in his arms tugged hard at his sleeve.

"Honey, it's just a run-down newspaper."

She pleaded in his ear in a sickeningly sweet voice, "It's all burned, what's the point of keeping it? I'm so cold, my feet are soaked, let's go inside quickly, life is the most important thing..."

This statement became the final straw that broke Henderson's back.

"Fuck..."

He finally resigned himself to his fate and chose to save his own life first!
He snatched the pen and fiercely signed his name on the draft transfer agreement.

"very good."

Mak Ling put the documents away with satisfaction: "Mr. Henderson, you made a wise choice. Please come in."

……

When this group of upper-class people voluntarily paid 50,000 silver dollars or equivalent assets, the door finally opened for them.

The scene behind the door shocked the group of people who had just suffered a massive hemorrhage once again!
If Guang'anli is hell, then this place is fucking damn paradise!
There was no foul odor; instead, a wonderful aroma of toasted bread, rich broth, and soap wafted towards you!

The main hall of the Chinese Youth Association has been transformed into a huge restaurant.

Four huge cast-iron fireplaces stood at the four corners, burning red-hot, and their dry, domineering warmth quickly dried the damp, musty smell from their bodies.

The floor was made of mahogany wood that had been scrubbed until it was spotless.

In the center of the hall, a dozen long tables were pushed together and piled high with food.

Steaming hot white bread, large chunks of butter, thick slices of roast beef...

There were also two large pots of bubbling, steaming vegetable soup.

On the other side, there were clean hot water, towels, and stacks of dry cotton clothes!
"Oh, God..."

Jeffrey rushed over, not even bothering to wash his hands, and grabbed a piece of sausage, stuffing it into his mouth.

"Mmm, delicious, and hot!"

He was scalded and jumped up and down, but showed no sign of stopping.

"Water, hot water..."

Mayor's wife Penny no longer cared about being a lady of leisure. She rushed to the bucket and vigorously wiped her face and neck with the hot towel.

The warm and clean touch brought tears to her eyes.

The wealthy businessmen and bankers who were just moments ago feeling the pinch quickly found their resentment balanced out.

"That's great."

The rancher, holding a cup of hot coffee, took a deep breath of its long-lost aroma: "Fair trade."

"Yes."

Another judge nodded: "That Chinese man, oh no, that Mr. Aoyama, at least he's a man of his word."

“He took the money and actually did the job; he’s a man of his word.”

What they fear most is not spending money.

It's not just that kind of barbarity, but that kind of untrustworthy behavior!

It was the kind of chaotic situation where they took money and then kicked people out to be eaten by wolves, with absolutely no bottom line.

Although Qingshan took advantage of the chaos, at least he still followed the rules.

That's good.

As long as the rules are followed, everything is negotiable.

This group of San Francisco's elite finally settled down temporarily in Chinatown, a place they used to despise, and breathed a sigh of relief for the first time.

Meanwhile, in downtown San Francisco.

The riots did not subside as dawn broke.

The rioters continued to roam the streets, but the chaos was strangely orderly.

Declan, the new leader of the Celtic Fist, shot down an Irish drunkard who was trying to storm into a civilian bakery.

"Fuck off!"

"What did I say last night? Our enemies are those damn rich people in silk, those damn bankers, not these bastards who are as poor as us!"

"If anyone dares to mess with civilians again, I'll feed him and this idiot to the fish!"

Similar scenes unfolded in the Latin Quarter and the Dutch Quarter.

The assassins Matteo and Geese maintained this controllable chaos using the most direct methods.

After killing more than a dozen disobedient and lust-driven thugs, the remaining thugs basically behaved themselves.

They can burn down the estates of the rich, smash up banks even though there isn't much cash inside, but they are strictly forbidden from doing so, and harm ordinary citizens who are hiding at home.

San Francisco has become a hunting ground exclusively for the upper class.

Under the cover of this hunting ground, a true feast is unfolding silently.

At this moment, Lawson's consciousness descended upon the San Francisco dock district, into the body of an inconspicuous assassin.

"BOSS."

"All three target warehouses have been captured by our attack."

“That damn Irish bastard is out there setting fires, partying, creating chaos, and successfully drawing attention.”

"Our men have killed the guards and entered the warehouse vault."

Lawson listened quietly to the report.

His target has never left the silver tycoons of San Francisco!

He had long been eyeing those three closely guarded secret warehouses that stored silver transported from the Comstock silver mine!
Now is the time to take action, and it makes perfect sense to pin everything on the mob.

"let's start."

Inside the warehouse vault.

A dozen or so assassins stood quietly in front of the mountain of silver ingots.

Lawson's consciousness quickly connected with the connection.

High-density precious metal detected: silver

[Absorbing...]

[10%……50%……90%……]

One cubic meter of silver has been completely absorbed.

[System upgrade initiation...]

【Upgrade completed! 】

The cold, mechanical voice, which only he could hear, rang in his mind like heavenly music.

[Level: Level 10]