Being carried onto an ambulance at the start? But this is America!

Mike instinctively reached for the bottle, but stopped halfway through, patting the bottle instead.

"No drinking tonight, business is more important."

He looked at Li Ping, his eyes revealing the hardcore aura of a veteran reconnaissance soldier. "Kid, I'll take command. Infiltration, surveillance, seizing opportunities—I'm more experienced at this than you are."

Li Ping looked at the dark pistol, his heart skipped a beat, and then a strong sense of security welled up inside him.

A seasoned former reconnaissance veteran, armed with real weapons, volunteered to join?

Can't ask for it.

"Thank you, Mike."

Li Ping reached out and firmly grasped the old man's rough, calloused hand. "With you here, we are more confident."

Mike grinned; it felt good to be needed.

Fletcher magically produced five black hoods from his tent.

"Take them with you, they'll be safer." He winked, and heaven knows why he would hide these things.

"What a gem of a boy!"

Li Ping took it and promptly put it on his head.

The group changed into their most worn-out, unremarkable long-sleeved clothes and trousers, put on gloves, and looked each other over.

Even if acquaintances are face to face in the dark, it is difficult to tell their true faces.

"Seventh Street, the abandoned parking lot behind the old foundry."

Li Ping stated the location with certainty, "The Holy Shield gang is muttering that they're going to ambush the White Ravens there."

"Follow me, walk softly, and stay close to the shadows."

Mike quickly got into the swing of things, straightening his hunched back and taking the lead.

He led the group like ghosts through the dilapidated streets, skillfully avoiding several security cameras.

In impoverished streets rife with gangs and where streetlights flicker on and off, surveillance cameras are a rarity.

Under the expert command of Mike, a former scout, they stealthily made their way to their destination without even being exposed to a single light.

The action was swift and efficient.

"major!"

Li Fan couldn't help but sigh in admiration; he had always admired soldiers.

"Your major is the most useless thing."

Mike gave a self-deprecating smirk. "There are tons of veterans like me on the streets of America, and in the end, they all end up sleeping under bridges and collecting welfare, don't they?"

He reached for the bottle again, but stopped halfway through, letting out a sigh.

High medical bills, PTSD, social isolation... retirement means unemployment, and then falling into the abyss, which has become the fate of many veterans.

The abandoned parking lot revealed its outline in the moonlight.

The surrounding area consisted of dark, two- or three-story old buildings, devoid of any lights.

The cool moonlight spilled onto a roughly two- or three-acre open cement field.

The area was overgrown with weeds, reaching up to knee-high, with plastic bags of garbage hanging from the branches, and the air was filled with a mixture of the smells of urine and rotting matter.

You have to be extra careful when you walk, otherwise you're likely to get robbed.

"Fuck!"

Fletcher, by sheer luck, stumbled upon a stroke of good fortune.

The parking lot was slightly flatter in the center, where several car wrecks, reduced to rusted metal shells, were parked crookedly. All valuable parts had long been removed by scavengers, leaving only empty frames.

The group lay in wait, and time slowly passed.

With nothing else to do, Mike lowered his voice and began to recount his wanderings after being discharged from the military.

Of my old comrades-in-arms, only two are still in contact.

Another person, like him, was homeless but didn't receive the same demobilization allowance and made a living by collecting cans.

Another person runs a nearly bankrupt auto repair shop in the suburbs in an effort to save a house that is about to be crushed by property taxes.

"Many old folks sell the houses they've lived in their whole lives after retirement, and yet some people actually believe that nonsense about traveling the world!"

Mike's voice was filled with resentment. "Romantic? Bullshit!"

"They can't afford the damn property taxes, they can't maintain the house, so they have to get out!"

"That's it. To say they went to pursue poetry and distant places is just fooling foreign idiots. It's utterly rotten."

Li Ping listened, unsure how to respond.

For the poor in America, property taxes are a heavy burden, consuming at least one or two months' wages.

Old Mike looked around and, based on the changes in moonlight and shadows, carefully led them to change their hiding places several times.

Finally, it was almost 5 a.m.

The sound of hurried, chaotic footsteps came from the entrance of an alley.

Three slightly disheveled figures rushed into the parking lot; they were Bai Ya, the leader of the Bai Ya Gang, and his two henchmen.

Immediately afterwards, four burly men wielding baseball bats chased after them from the back alley, while four more men emerged from another alleyway, instantly surrounding the parking lot.

Three against eight.

"Same as the hint."

Li Ping held his breath and pointed to the four people beside him.

The five of them blended completely into the shadows and weeds.

"White Raven and Lawrence are both here!"

Fletcher had a keen eye; even from a distance, he recognized the two figures and whispered with suppressed excitement.

A verbal battle has broken out in the arena.

"You bastards from the Shield, resorting to dirty tricks and sneak attacks, you fucking have no rules!"

White Crow was a wiry white man with a shaved head and a blood-dripping raven tattooed on his neck. Even when surrounded, his imposing manner remained undiminished.

It has gained a domineering spirit of "burning one's boats and taking all the risks".

"Rules? Go to hell, White Crow! We took this territory from the Grey Head Gang!"

Lawrence, the leader of the Shield, was also a burly white man who grinned and waved his aluminum baseball bat.

Arguing only buys time.

Suddenly, someone from the Shield's side shouted, "Watch out, White Raven has a gun!"

boom! boom! boom!

A crisp explosion tore through the night sky, the muzzle flash particularly glaring in the dim light.

"ah--!"

"I've been shot!"

Two screams rang out as two members of the Shield were shot in the legs and fell to the ground howling in pain.

The others managed to dodge in time and nothing serious happened.

A moment of panicked silence followed the gunshot.

"Out of bullets, let's get him!" Lawrence roared.

"You scum, let me show you what boxing is all about!"

With a howl, the white crow, instead of retreating, advanced and pounced into the crowd like a cheetah.

His movements were swift and precise. He dodged the swinging baseball bat and delivered a heavy hook punch to a man's temple, who collapsed without even uttering a sound.

Another member of the Holy Shield swung his club at White Raven, who ducked to dodge and then elbowed him in the ribs with a crisp crack, crippling yet another member!

"He was using a Glock 43, a pocket pistol with a six-round magazine, and it was completely empty."

In the shadows, Mike calmly explained in a low voice, like a battlefield observer.

"Two people were shot and are no longer able to fight, so now... it's three against five, no, Bai Ya took down another one, so it's three against four."

"Well done, White Raven, crush them!"

Fletcher watched intently, applauding quietly.

However, Bai Ya's two fists were no match for four hands, let alone four hands wielding sticks.

After a brief moment of panic, the remaining members of Holy Shield coordinated their attacks, their clubs flashing.

Even though Bai Ya was a formidable fighter, he took several blows to the shoulder and back, groaning repeatedly as his movements began to falter.

His two men were also forced into dangerous situations.

The melee lasted for several minutes.

Finally, amidst cries of pain and muffled thuds, and the scramble for weapons, only the swaying White Raven and the panting Lawrence remained standing.

The others were half-sitting, half-lying on the ground, some groaning, some unconscious.

From fighting with bloodshot eyes to fighting until they were exhausted, the two stood facing each other a few meters apart, panting heavily, tending to their wounds.

"Cease... Ceasefire, Lawrence."

The white crow spat out a mouthful of blood and spoke first, its voice hoarse.

"If we keep fighting, the cops will come and no one will escape. We can split the Gray Head Gang's territory equally!"

"Splitting it equally?"

Lawrence clutched his bleeding arm, his eyes fierce. "So many of my brothers are dead, and you're telling me to split it equally?"

"I'll cover all the treatment costs!"

Bai Ya escalated the situation, his mind racing. "You guys succeeded in your sneak attack today, but even if you kill me here, it won't make a difference!"

You'll be hunted down like stray dogs. Even if it's divided equally, it'll be enough for you to digest. Could you possibly eat anything bigger?

Lawrence's eyes flickered, clearly persuaded, and he began to speak hurriedly in a low voice to his confidant beside him.

Tonight's sneak attack was simply a way for the Shield to teach White Raven a lesson and show him they were not to be trifled with.

Unexpectedly, Bai Ya was so resolute that he directly used a gun, and things have developed to this point.

At this very moment when both sides are haggling and their attention is most scattered—

Li Ping and his group had already dispersed and surrounded the enemy, while Devon was responsible for dealing with the strongest White Raven.

"Who?!" Lawrence looked in shock behind the white raven.

"Hmph, trying to ambush me with such petty tricks?"

Bai Ya didn't move, and coldly snorted.

However, by the time he heard the whistling wind behind him, it was too late; a stick struck him on the back of the head.

The white crow fell asleep immediately.