Law America, the Devil's Agent

Curtis Law Firm, Receptionist.

"Did you see that group of people at the door?"

Junior lawyer Warren Brown, holding a glass of Americano, gestured with his chin towards the glass door.

A row of heavy motorcycles was parked on the sidewalk outside the door.

A dozen or so men in leather vests leaned against the car seats, their arms covered in tattoos.

"People from the Soldiers' Association."

The receptionist didn't even look up.

"There's a case today, and they came with their comrade."

"Comrades?"

Warren raised an eyebrow: "Oh! That divorce counseling! It's dragging on for ages, that's really something."

  

He placed the coffee cup on the table and shook his head.

"We need to get security to keep an eye on things. What kind of impression will it make if a bunch of drunk veterans are blocking the entrance?"

"Whose case are the people at the door waiting for?"

Kona stepped out of the elevator, her expression indifferent.

Don't you know?

Robinck tossed the one he had to a junior lawyer.

What was his name again... that Chinese kid?

Link.

"Yes, that's him."

Warren snapped his fingers, his smile becoming meaningful: "Hopefully he can deal with that big coward."

This case was clearly a bombshell, and Robinck threw it out without even looking at the files.

If those rednecks weren't satisfied with the service, wouldn't they devour him alive?

Several lawyers who were passing by also came over.

"Robin is really outrageous, pushing one of his men to take the fall."

"That's right. Anyway, it's a non-profit consulting commission. If he wins, he doesn't get a commission, and if he loses, his performance isn't affected. He never intended to play seriously."

"Poor child."

Warren listened, his face always bearing a hint of nonchalant sarcasm.

He disliked this fellow Chinese junior lawyer who was in the same cohort as him at all.

Perhaps it was racial discrimination, or perhaps it was an instinctive aversion to nerds.

He really wanted to see what fate awaited this "nice guy," perhaps it would provide a bit of amusement for his dark and twisted mind.

Kona stood to the side, saying nothing.

Her gaze passed over the glass door and landed on the group of people on motorcycles outside.

The look in Link's eyes when he interrupted her last night—that unwavering confidence that no longer wavered.

She had a strange premonition that today's case might surprise everyone.

"Do you think Link got beaten up by that person?" someone suddenly asked.

"Don't talk nonsense. The Soldiers' Association isn't a gang."

"But he's a redneck, and he just came back from the battlefield. Even if they don't fight, it'll be embarrassing enough if they start arguing."

Warren lazily added:

There are more than a dozen of their men outside.

If that soldier walks out in a huff, how will Link stay at the law firm from now on?

Robin could then justify firing him.

He glanced down at his watch.

"We've been talking long enough. At this point, either the talks have broken down, or we're just stunned by the yelling and cowering in a corner waiting for help."

Let's go, everyone, let's go take a sneak peek.

In case someone dies, they can also call 911.

But he didn't finish his sentence.

At the end of the corridor, the door to conference room number three opened.

Everyone who was chatting fell silent at the same time, because that was the room that the Soldiers' Association had booked.

But strangely, the embarrassing scene and loud shouting that everyone had anticipated did not happen.

Link was the first to come out.

His steps were steady and firm, and for some reason, his simple, slightly worn suit looked exceptionally sharp today.

His face lacked its usual submissive expression, instead displaying a relaxed and composed demeanor.

It is clear that the case negotiations went quite well.

Warren's smile froze on his face.

But what truly silenced everyone was the person behind Link.

Daniel Catro.

The redneck who had repeatedly caused trouble at the law firm was now following Link with his head down, extremely docile.

There was not a trace of malice on that face, etched with deep lines by alcohol and anger.

The two people walked down the corridor one after the other, past the front desk.

The other lawyers present stood on either side, clearing a path for him to the door.

Silence reigned.

Link walked to the glass door, stopped, turned around and smiled slightly at his dumbfounded colleagues.

Good morning, everyone.

His tone was normal, but it made everyone feel unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

Then he raised his hand and pushed open the door.

The street outside was bustling with people.

The group of veterans leaning against their motorcycles almost simultaneously straightened up, their eyes all turning to Daniel.

They seemed to be waiting for a signal.

Daniel walked to the edge of the steps and stopped.

He took a deep breath, tilted his head back, and roared out three short, rough syllables towards the sky.

It is a password that circulates only within military camps.

The moment the roar landed, all eleven veterans straightened their backs simultaneously.

There was silence for a few seconds.

Then, applause broke out.

This group of men, used and discarded by the country, expressed their approval of Link in the simplest way.

Warren's face was contorted and strange.

He only realized it now.

This usually timid and bookish nerd actually managed to win over this group of ordinary soldiers.

……

Link smiled and nodded as he watched the lively scene, then subconsciously reached for the cigarettes in his pocket.

It's a habit left over from my past life; when exchanging pleasantries with colleagues and clients, I always feel the urge to offer them a cigarette upon parting.

Unfortunately, he didn't have any tobacco in his pocket, but when he slowly raised his head:

But then he saw more than a dozen packs of cigarettes drawn from their sheaths like military knives and neatly handed to Link.

Finally, he took the tobacco from Daniel's hand.

Daniel struck the lighter and shielded his eyes from the air with his hand.

Link lowered his head and took a puff of smoke from the fire.

Smoke rose against Philadelphia’s gray sky as he held the cigarette between his fingers and patted Daniel on the shoulder.

"Do as I say, and I'll wait for your reply."

Daniel nodded.

He slung himself over onto the Harley with its paint chipped off the hood.

The veterans started their engines almost simultaneously, and the huge roar was like a thunderclap on the streets of the old town.

Link stood on the steps, a cigarette dangling from his lips, watching the steel torrent recede into the distance.

Behind the glass door, all the lawyers were speechless.

After a long while, Warren finally put down his now-cold Americano and said sullenly:

"Well done."

The tone of this lawyer from the same period in the early days had lost its former contempt and gained a subtle respect.

Kona remained standing in the same spot.

From the moment Link opened the door, her eyes never left him.

The surrounding lawyers exchanged bewildered glances.

Just moments ago, people were discussing whether this "nice guy" would get beaten up, but now no one can believe what's happening right now.

This honest Chinese intern, who was used as a scapegoat by everyone, suddenly became a stranger to them.

……

Link didn't return to his cubicle until the veterans had gone far away and his colleagues had all dispersed.

He closed the door behind him, and the voice finally echoed in his mind.

The case has been closed.

Customer satisfaction: Completely satisfied

[Rewards are being processed...]

You have received: 50 Faith Points

[Skill already acquired: Gun Shooting - Expert Level]

Link looked at the skill name, a slight smile playing on his lips. When he saw Daniel off, he had a premonition that the evaluation wouldn't be too low.

Name: Link

Age: 26

[Faith Points: 50]

Cases already accepted: 1

[Talent Skill: Gun Shooting - Expert Level]

[Skill Description: You have mastered high-precision shooting skills with pistols, rifles, and shotguns.]

The panel disappeared.

The next moment, a vast amount of information flooded into my mind:

Based on gun stance, breathing control, trigger travel, windage correction, bullet drop compensation...

These instincts, which require thousands of trigger pulls on the shooting range to develop, are now being broken down into fragments, gradually infused into neurons, and incorporated into muscle memory.

He subconsciously lowered his right hand, his fingers naturally curving into a loose grip on the gun handle. His thumb found the safety's loose position, and his index finger gently pressed it in the air.

Smooth, stable, without any unnecessary jitter.

This is an instinct that an American veteran gained through eleven years of military service.

He only needed one trial to get it all.

Link opened his eyes and looked down at his hands:

Just a moment ago, they were a pair of stiff hands, bent over a desk, working diligently with documents and cases.

But at this moment, if you give him a pistol, he can hit a coin-sized target with a single shot from 25 meters away.

This feeling is wonderful.

He lowered his hand, turned around, and sat back down at the table.

The case files are still piling up, the preservation application approved by Robinck is still waiting to be proofread, the bill for this month is due in a few days, and there is only one month left before the official appointment.

But his mindset has changed.

"Knock knock—"

"Please come in."

A fragrant aroma immediately entered Link's nostrils, and then the familiar blond figure appeared before him.

"Kona, what's up?"

"Can't you come if there's nothing wrong, Attorney Link?"

Kona strolled in and placed a steaming cup of coffee on his table.

"Gesha, Panama. To celebrate the successful completion of your first independently handled case."

Link took a sip. Although he preferred tea, the rich aroma of the beans still invigorated him.

"Everyone says your hand-ground tea is delicious, and it truly lives up to that reputation."

"The coffee is delicious, but it's not as good as the work you did today."

You look very different today, Link.

Link looked up at the curious woman in front of him and gave her a sly smile.

"What's the difference? Is it better or worse?"

Kona looked at him, smiled slightly, shook her head, and turned to leave.

She paused slightly as she reached the door.

"Those unruly soldiers have never been so polite here; they are like docile sheep in your presence."

I don't know if you've gotten better, but at least for now... it's not too bad.

Link didn't answer, but simply picked up his coffee, took a sip, and turned to look out the window.

The sky over Philadelphia remained overcast, and the City Hall tower in the distance was still faintly visible.

But today, for the first time, a sliver of sunlight peeked through the clouds and shone on his desk.

He squinted, savoring the temperature of the coffee.

"This is just... the very beginning."