Chapter 7: The Gang

"Damn it! I worked three hours and earned less than 20 gold shields."

William sighed, then propped his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful. "I feel like Amo's been lucky lately too. All those dozens of tables we served today were big spenders."

—And yesterday, that unbelievable victory.

"I think Andre relies more on his face,"

another waiter disagreed. "Notice how the biggest tips come from women?"

"Face and luck are one thing, but I think the most important thing is the quality of service."

A female colleague said, "Don't you feel it? Andre's smile was so sunny today, his voice and tone were pleasant, and his service was clean and attentive, making people feel comfortable. If I were a customer, I'd be generous with my wallet too."

Li Mochen felt the female waiter's somewhat intense gaze and awkwardly turned his head away, a contemplative look in his eyes.

The speaker meant no harm, but the listener took it to heart. William's words made him realize his current state was indeed unusual.

Could it be? That his life-bound treasure hadn't actually dissipated into the boundless void?

As this thought crossed Li Mochen's mind, a flicker of excitement appeared in his eyes. He even felt an urge to return home immediately.

Just then, several loud bangs rang out in the distance, jarring the eardrums. The glass wall beside them shattered, and screams erupted in the restaurant. Before Li Mochen could react, William dragged him under a table. William's face was pale: "Damn! Someone's shooting. Shit, this is Market Street!"

Li Mochen instantly understood, recalling memories of 'firearms' from the original owner's mind.

They were inventions of the modern era, firing bullets using gunpowder or magical energy arrays. Some powerful firearms could even threaten high-level professionals. They were the modern government's greatest reliance for balancing the power of magical professionals, even outlaws.

But they were also a source of chaos in American society. The early federal constitution stipulated that a well-regulated militia was necessary for the security of a free state, so the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

This constitutional clause, originally intended to resist threats from the dark world, alien creatures, former colonial powers, and indigenous people, was exploited by arms dealers. With their efforts, guns proliferated in America, with hundreds dying daily from shootings nationwide. In Atlanta alone, there were over seven hundred shootings last year.

However, few dared to cause trouble on Atlanta's Market Street, a key patrol area for the Atlanta Police Department, heavily policed.

Sure enough, after more than twenty gunshots, a fleet of police cars roared in. Hundreds of fully armed police officers swarmed down, sealing off the streets and suppressing the situation.

Only then did the people lying in the restaurant dare to look outside.

The shooting scene was sixty meters away, but it was already tightly sealed by police cars and human walls. Soon, the restaurant's operations manager approached with a grim face.

"The boss says we're closed today and tomorrow. Everyone pack up."

A chorus of groans rose from the waitstaff, including William.

America practiced a five-day workweek, so most of those working weekends were students, in similar situations to William and Li Mochen.

If they were closed for two days, it meant they'd earn nothing this week.

Li Mochen, however, was pleased. He wanted to go home and verify his earlier conjecture. Since this matter might take a day or two to resolve, the two-day break suited him perfectly.

"Well, I knew it! Looks like my reunion with my beloved car will be delayed another week. Damn it! I wonder where those bastards came from. Don't they know the rules? Causing trouble on Market Street—they must have water in their heads. Just wait, those white pigs outside will knock their brains out."

William grumbled indignantly as he walked out. But when they passed the crime scene surrounded by police cars at the street corner, he fell silent, looking unusually docile.

That was because a group of white police officers were staring at them. Some looked cold, hands on their holsters.

Through the gaps between the vehicles, they could vaguely see two bodies lying in pools of blood. William couldn't help but glance, then his expression grew excited again.

"Hey! Amo, that's Blood Fang gang. I saw the wolf fang tattoo."

"I bet it's the Black Prison Skulls. Only they in South City dare to mess with Blood Fang and don't give a damn about the cops. What do you think, Amo?"

Li Mochen wasn't interested. He had already retrieved information about the Black Prison Skulls and Blood Fang from his memory, knowing they were among the largest black gangs in South Atlanta. But gangs, like underworld groups but worse, he despised in both his past and present lives.

Even the police cars parked nearby intrigued him more. According to the original owner's memory, these large vehicles ran on a fuel called 'petroleum,' which was already widespread in this world.

Li Mochen was curious about how these vehicles felt to drive and what principles they operated on—

Oh, and among the crowd, a neatly dressed, beautiful female police officer stirred an uncontrollable lustful urge in him.

—No doubt, this was another backlash from Dugu Tianyi.

It seemed the 'Purification Talisman' he had drawn had some suppressive effect, but when encountering a beautiful woman like that officer, it was as good as useless.

He suddenly realized that the technique that bastard used before dying was likely a method to amplify human desires infinitely.

If it were still the original Tao Ran, he wouldn't fear such a technique. But his current state was a fusion of Tao Ran and Li Mochen.

Whether it was the call girl yesterday or the beautiful policewoman today, Tao Ran could remain unmoved and indifferent, but the original Li Mochen might not.

Just then, William seemed to remember something: "Oh, Amo, speaking of gangs, I heard that Frank from the Teutonic Cross came to see you at school the day before yesterday? They wanted to recruit you, right?"

Li Mochen thought for a moment, then nodded: "That happened, but I refused."

The name 'Teutonic Cross' sounded lofty, but its nature was also a gang. The only difference from the Black Prison Skulls and Blood Fang was that it was a gang composed entirely of ethnic Germans.

Li Mochen's mother's family, the Wiltonstein family, originally came from the German Empire in the Old Continent, so he was half German.

But the original owner of this body also kept his distance from gangs.

Although he was determined to investigate his parents' death and avenge them, he never thought of using gang power. This was something Li Mochen particularly admired.

Diligent, ambitious, intelligent, and principled—that was Li Mochen's current impression of the original owner. This unfortunate deceased child, aside from being impulsive and irritable, possessed all the traits needed for success.