An American knife seller? No, please acknowledge me as your godfather.

Hearing this music, which is like a deadly chant, one can feel its power.

Lynn's hand holding the cigarette jerked violently, almost shoving the cigarette butt into her nostril!

"Who...who set this ringtone for you?"

Lynn watched in shock as Mike frantically pulled his phone from his pocket, her eyes twitching so badly they almost spasmed.

You have to understand that in America, especially in predominantly Black neighborhoods.

The pronunciation of "内个" in Chinese is practically a taboo word!

Walking down the street with this ringing sound in the background.

What's the difference between that and having racial discrimination tattooed on someone's forehead?

The most devilish thing is...

Mike was Black!

"Hey boss, isn't this song great?"

Mike didn't notice Lynn's odd behavior; instead, he grinned, revealing a set of bright white teeth.

"This is the most famous Chinese song from the University of Tokyo that I specifically searched for on YouTube to experience the university's culture!"

"This rhythm, this beat, it's even more energetic than West Coast rap!"

"..."

Lynn took a deep breath and gave Mike a meaningful look.

"Listen to Mike, from now on, if you get a call, you'd better answer it within one-hundredth of a second of it ringing, otherwise..."

"Otherwise, what kind of BOSS?"

"Otherwise, I'm afraid you won't even know why you got shot in the head with an AK."

Mike scratched his head, puzzled, clearly not understanding the meaning behind it.

He habitually nodded and answered the call immediately.

I only listened for a few seconds.

Mike's face visibly darkened.

"FUCK! You two untrustworthy bitches! Shit!"

Mike launched into a tirade into the phone, spouting all sorts of slang.

Finally, he abruptly hung up the phone.

"What's wrong?"

Lynn raised her eyelids slightly, keenly sensing something amiss.

"Boss! Those two who were supposed to come for their appointment this afternoon said they had something come up and can't make it!"

Mike's chest heaved violently with anger, his face filled with rage and displeasure.

next moment.

He turned and bowed deeply to Lynn:

"I'm so sorry, Boss! It's my fault for letting these lowly trash waste your precious time!"

Lynn smiled dismissively.

He got up, walked over to Mike, and patted him on the shoulder:

"It's no big deal. Sometimes people stand you up. It's not your fault."

Hearing that Lynn not only didn't blame him but also comforted him, Mike's guilt instantly intensified.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and muttered viciously:

"Damn it! If anyone dares to book a doctor's appointment again, I'm going to make sure they get a $50 deposit first!"

"If you dare to breach the contract and not show up, you won't get a single penny of your deposit back!"

Upon hearing this...

Lynn's eyebrows twitched rapidly twice.

Good guy.

What a talent! He's practically self-taught!

Do I need to pay a deposit before booking a medical appointment?

That's an absolutely brilliant idea!

Fortunately, Mike was born in an American slum.

If they were to study at the University of Tokyo for two or three years, wouldn't they take off immediately?

This is just like that skinny guy, Vincent van der Yama, who plays in the NBA.

Before I went to Shaolin Temple and was blessed by the abbot, my ball was soft and brittle, like a biscuit.

As a result, after studying at the University of Tokyo for a while, he suddenly had a breakthrough in his meridians!

He returned and immediately dominated the competition.

He almost won the regular season MVP!

"Oh, right! Boss!"

Just as Lynn was lost in thought, Mike seemed to suddenly remember something important.

He hurriedly rummaged through the pockets on his body.

Finally, he pulled out a large handful of crumpled, sweaty coins.

"This is the money I just got from that sick bastard John."

Mike counted the money carefully and respectfully handed it to Lynn with both hands: "It's $183 in total. I charged you the original price as you instructed."

Lynn, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, glanced at the pile of loose change.

He didn't accept all the bills, but slowly pulled out two fifty-yuan notes.

"I'll take these hundred dollars."

Lynn put the money in his pocket and raised his chin: "Keep the rest."

"Oh no! How can that be!"

Mike panicked and frantically pushed the money in his hand toward Lynn, saying, "Boss, I haven't even used up the seed money you gave me yesterday! I can't take this money!"

"Just take it."

Lynn's tone was calm, but it carried an undeniable air of authority.

"I'm not giving it all to you. What about the brothers under your command who risk their lives for you? Do you think they just starve?"

Lynn, hands in his pockets, said casually, "Take this money and buy them some decent food. Don't always make them rummage through the trash like stray dogs."

What initially attracted them to Mike, besides his muscular physique comparable to a special forces soldier and his ruthless methods, was...

A large part of the reason is that Mike has a group of loyal henchmen!

Although not many, it has already taken shape.

In America, going it alone will never amount to anything.

Whether in elite Ivy League schools or in impoverished communities filled with excrement.

The survival rule of America can always be summed up in two words: stick together!

An individual's strength is absolutely limited.

From presidential elections that determine the fate of a nation to street brawls over territory.

It all comes down to whoever draws the most people!

As long as there are enough people standing behind you, you have absolute power.

This is why there are so many clubs and organizations in American schools.

This is why there are so many gangs and religious sects in society.

Old Mike.

It was the perfect black glove that Lynn had chosen.

Although he doesn't have many homeless followers and his organizational structure is quite loose.

But as long as there is a continuous influx of funds.

The gang's size will definitely snowball and expand rapidly!

Although Lynn has no immediate plans to become the underground emperor of Seattle.

But in this messed-up world.

It's always good to have an extra, well-equipped escape route.

Upon hearing Lynn's words, Mike froze.

"Boss..."

Old Mike gripped the banknotes tightly in his hand, his rough voice tinged with a sob.

His large, bell-like eyes were glistening with tears of emotion.

No one ever cared about his life or death, or that of his brothers!

Mr. Lynn was simply a god sent by God to save them!

[Thanksgiving +20]

Looking at the increased gratitude points, a barely perceptible smile flashed in Lynn's eyes.

"Alright, stop looking like you're about to cry."

Lynn flicked his cigarette butt away and turned to leave: "Since no one's around, I'll head back now. I'll be back tomorrow..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

Suddenly, a cacophony of shouting and shoving erupted outside the tent.

"Stop right there! Who the hell do you think you are? Is this a place you can just barge into?!"

"Get out of my way! Don't force me to take action!"

Immediately following were several dull thuds of flesh colliding.

I heard a noise.

Mike's face instantly turned extremely dark, and a terrifying fierce light shot out from his eyes!

"Damn it! Who dares to run wild on my turf? They're asking for trouble!"

With a roar, Mike charged out like an enraged black panther.

Lynn raised an eyebrow slightly.

Driven by curiosity, he followed them out at a leisurely pace.

I just lifted the curtain.

Lynn noticed that the atmosphere in the open space outside the tent had become extremely tense.

Mike's two henchmen, who were acting as doorkeepers, were lying sprawled out in the mud, groaning in pain.

And in front of them.

Standing there was a middle-aged white man who was not tall and even looked somewhat thin.

The man was wearing a worn-out military green trench coat and had a very neat buzz cut.

What's most striking about him are his eyes.

There were no emotional fluctuations like those of a normal person.

Cold and empty, yet it exudes a chilling cruelty.

Even just standing there casually, he maintains a perfectly alert posture, as if he could suddenly strike and kill at any moment.

No words are needed.

Lynn immediately realized that the other party was definitely a veteran who had retired from the battlefield where corpses piled up and blood flowed.

It's highly likely they're tough guys like the Marines or Navy SEALs.

"My name is Kane."

The white man's gaze was sharp as he coldly swept over Mike, who had rushed out.

His voice was so hoarse it sounded like two rusty pieces of iron rubbing together.

"I'm not here to get myself killed or cause trouble."

Kane said calmly, "I just heard that a miracle doctor who can set bones and heal injuries has come to this neighborhood, and I wanted to come and see for myself."

"Shut up! You'll pay for hitting my man!"

Seeing his two underlings groaning in pain beneath him, Mike strode forward, ready to smash the man's head in front of him.

"Wait a minute."

Lynn raised her hand to stop Mike.

In his opinion, Mike might not be able to beat the veteran.

"Are you really here for a medical checkup?"

Lynn looked at the man named Kane with interest and asked casually.

At least for now, he couldn't see any illness in the other person.

At most, they're just a little malnourished.

"Yes."

Kane didn't waste any words.

They seemed somewhat surprised after noticing Lynn's skin color.

"Mike, let him in."

Lynn nodded, turned around, and went into the tent.

There's no reason to refuse business that comes knocking.

Whether he's a retired special forces soldier or a serial killer, as long as he can generate gold coins or evoke feelings of gratitude, that's fine.

"BOSS!" Mike wanted to say something more.

But in the end, he gritted his teeth and agreed, "Understood!"