A swift and decisive victory in the early stages, a post-apocalyptic survival story in America!

Victor inserted the dagger casually, as if he had just stuck it into a scarecrow, pulled it out, and then stuck it in again.

The relaxed expression froze on the man's face. Before he breathed his last, he thought of looking up at Victor, wondering why he had to kill him...

Victor sighed. "Three days, it's three days? Who do you take me for? I'm a gangster!"

Victor waved his hand, ignoring how his men handled the aftermath. He calmly sat down on the somewhat worn white European-style armchair, reached out and pulled the black woman next to him into his arms.

Another blonde white woman had already lit a cigarette and offered it to her master, took a puff, and placed it near Victor's lips.

Victor took a light puff, then picked up the fruit knife and continued slicing the apple, completely unconcerned about the lingering crimson stains on the blade.

"Boss, there's a rumor going around on the streets that a guy driving a red Chevrolet Impala and carrying an 8-inch Python revolver is targeting our Crippled Gang..." A henchman pushed open the door, poured two glasses of whiskey on the rocks, placed them in front of Victor, and took a sip himself first.

Victor rolled his eyes and casually tossed half an apple to the blonde woman beside him: "Rumors? Rumors say I'm the Grand Commander! Where do all these rumors come from? Tell me, who got killed? I want to celebrate!"

The subordinate hesitated for a moment before saying, "A level three leader of the Watts Crippled Gang on Grape Street was killed on his way home. Over on the East Coast, a few guys were killed while collecting money on the street..."

"Tch, this kind of thing happens every day, is it that rare? Is it done by some other branch of the crippled gang?" Victor didn't believe it at all, picked up his whiskey on the rocks, and took a big gulp.

"I don't know, all I know is that the people who made the move were driving Impalas and using 8-inch Colt Pythons."

Just as Victor was about to ask another question, his phone rang.

"Boss! Don't worry! They've already been sent out, all top-notch! Don't worry! They've all served in the military; they're my trump cards! Don't worry! Okay, wait for my good news!"

Hanging up the phone, Victor struck a cool pose, his thumb and middle finger gripping a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He pointed at his subordinates and instructed, "Be careful on the streets. Arm all the brothers on the streets. If you see a Red Impala, shoot it—"

Before he could finish speaking, a gunshot rang out, and then the whiskey glass with ice in Victor's hand shattered with a loud crash, sending ice and glass fragments flying in all directions.

A shard of ice shot out and collided with a cloud of red and white liquid, which burst from the forehead of Victor's subordinate.

A single shot to the head killed Victor's subordinate. By the time Victor reacted and reached for the UZI on the sofa a few steps away, a second shot rang out.

Victor, still charging forward, collapsed onto the sofa, his right hand, adorned with gold rings, less than an inch from the UZI submachine gun he never parted with.

Two more gunshots rang out in quick succession, and the two sexy women who finally screamed in terror were also blown off their heads.

The intruders ransacked the place, and as the roar of police sirens grew louder, they left behind four corpses and gracefully departed.

……

……

Miles Lowell put down the phone and continued reading the anatomy book in front of him. Across from him, Nancy asked with a hint of helplessness, "Are we really going to turn on our own people too?"

Miles shrugged: "The neighboring Crippled Gang branches have all been attacked. If we're the only ones left unattended, it'll be too obvious. Perfect opportunity to get rid of Victor."

Nancy nodded and said nothing more.

"Give the order to keep an eye on the SBTower apartment tonight, and report back to me immediately if anything happens," Miles said in a low voice. A voice responded from the shadows, and the person opened the door and left.

"Go tell Roger not to go to the clinic anytime soon. Once this storm has passed, don't let him get involved."

Nancy smiled and said, "If you keep doing this, there's bound to be a conflict between the Crippled Gang and the Blood Gang. Countless people will get shot. He can't possibly skip work..."

Miles sighed and gently closed the book in his hands: "I've read enough. It's time to put it into practice. Go find me a specimen; I want to practice! I refuse to believe that if Roger can do it, I can't!"

Nancy rolled her eyes: "Roger was operating on rabbits when he was three, and you're forty and you're only just learning this now! What are you comparing yourself to him for?"

Miles chuckled sheepishly, "Hehe, it's for business! Go on, my dear sister!"

……

……

The sirens blared as the battle raged on in Lola's apartment...

The two lay on the living room floor. Lola's back ached and she felt weak all over, but she still struggled to get up to watch videos and continue gathering clues for the case.

Li Qi was completely convinced.

This ordeal had exhausted most of Li Qi's strength. He had only just recovered, and now he felt like he could eat a whole cow.

It was unrealistic to expect Lola to cook, so Li Qi asked a question, confirmed that there was some food in the refrigerator, and then got up to go to the kitchen to prepare a meal.

A moment later, a faint fragrance wafted into her nostrils. Lola sniffed and couldn't help but stand up.

No woman is immune to cravings, especially one like her who has overexerted herself. She's starving by now, and if it weren't for work, she would have given up long ago.

Wearing only Li Qi's t-shirt, Lola stood in the kitchen, both happy and surprised: "Honey, you can cook? What are you doing?"

Li Qi shrugged: "It's nothing much. Just stew everything together, make a soup, and pan-fry a steak. It'll be ready quickly. Go ahead and get busy. I'll call you when it's done!"

Lola was somewhat moved and hugged Li Qi from behind, whispering on his shoulder, "I've imagined this scene so many times, but I never thought it would come true so easily. It feels so magical..."

Li Qi sensed her emotional shift and was unsure how to respond.

Dinner was ready, and the two sat down to eat.

The soup was simple; it was made by cooking leftovers from the refrigerator together with some oatmeal until it was mushy, almost like a porridge. What Chinese people would consider pig swill, Laura, an American, ate with great relish.

There was no way around it; Li Qi was really willing to add seasonings.

With bacon and various vegetables stewed together, the flavor is perfectly balanced with oil and salt; it's hard to imagine it being bad.

The steak, however, was quickly thawed and Li Qi's cooking skills were only so-so, so it didn't impress Lola.

Both of them were so hungry that their stomachs were practically touching their backs. Although they were sitting back to back, they had no appetite for anything else and were only focused on eating.

Having eaten and drunk her fill, with her ditch and moat full, Lola let out a comfortable burp, looking both shy and adorable.

Feeling refreshed, Li Qi picked up Lola and carried her towards the bedroom.

Lola chuckled, letting him do his mischief...

Amidst the rhythmic cadence, a few barks of dogs were interspersed before the music abruptly ceased.

Lola was intoxicated, but for some reason, Li Qi suddenly stopped.

She opened her eyes resentfully, only to see Li Qi asking warily, "Honey, does your neighbor have two poodles? They were barking non-stop when I came in, but they only barked twice just now and then suddenly went silent?"