The sea wind howled across the bow.
Several men in suits stood gazing ahead into the dark.
Walking up from the rear deck, a man with a scar at the corner of his mouth turned his head and asked, "When do we reach Sicily?"
"About half an hour!"
The man beside him answered before adding in a cautious, hushed voice, "Brother Hu, we came all this way from New York just over a single shipload of cargo? Isn't that a bit beneath us?"
*Smack!*
Han Hu slapped the back of the man's head, glaring at him with icy eyes. "What the hell do you know? A boat and the booze on it are worth maybe two hundred thousand at most. The point is, our He'an face can't be bought with money!"
Staring fiercely into the darkness, Han Hu turned his head and spat, "Brother Ren said the money isn't important. But having that bastard gone is very important! A country bumpkin really thought he could cover the sky with one hand?"
"Pah! Brother Ren's right. They're all just worthless thugs!"
Snorting in contempt, Han Hu continued, "Once we go ashore, everybody get your weapons ready. Leave no one alive. Got it?"
"Yes, Brother Hu!"
Hearing Han Hu's command, the men nodded in succession.
If it were any ordinary Mafia, finding out their ship and cargo had been seized in Sicily would usually mean seeking a mediator to settle things. But Liu Ren was different. Even if he wrote off the ship and the goods entirely, he would still send men across the world to tear you apart!
In his mind, face was far more important than money!
Above all, he could never show weakness. Otherwise, across the ocean where wolves circled on all sides, every single predator would bare its fangs at him.
The waves crashed against towering sea rocks, churning into white foam.
After making landfall, Han Hu made contact with their local partners, and the two sides quickly coordinated.
"Don Ciccio? Never heard of him! How many men does he have?" Han Hu asked, raising an eyebrow at their local contact.
"According to our inquiries, his family has twenty core members and around fifty peripheral gunmen..."
Before the partner could even finish, Han Hu cut in, stunned. "Wait, what? How many?"
"Around seventy in total! What's wrong? Are there too many?" The partner stared at Han Hu in shock, bewildered by his reaction.
"Motherfucker... I crossed an entire ocean for this, and that's all he has?"
Han Hu stood frozen in absolute disbelief.
In New York, a crime boss with such pitiful numbers wouldn't even have the credentials to meet him, let alone Brother Chao or Liu Ren above him!
After pondering for a moment, Han Hu turned his head and barked, "Grab your gear, grab your gear! Goddammit! What a joke!"
When the core men from New York learned of the enemy's numbers, an awkward silence fell over them as well. Everyone had geared up for a brutal battle, only to be told the opposition didn't even have a hundred men. Wasn't this just picking on a defenseless simpleton?
"Do we still need the heavy machine guns and mortars?" a young man asked, looking skeptically at Han Hu with an awkward grimace.
"What heavy machine guns and mortars? Tommy guns for everybody, pocket a few grenades, and that's plenty. What bad luck!"
Han Hu yelled commands, rousing the rest of the men from the ship's hold.
Soon, men clad in black short jackets and thousand-layer-soled cloth shoes emerged one after another.
These were the elite operatives Liu Ren had spent years cultivating—the true core of the syndicate. Though fewer than five hundred strong, their training had adhered strictly to military standards from day one.
Han Hu had brought a full fifty of them along just to be completely safe. What Liu Ren hadn't anticipated was that, careful as he had been, he had forgotten the enemy might simply be an amateur idiot.
It felt uncomfortably like a grown man beating a toddler. Han Hu felt embarrassed at the very thought of lugging out heavy machine guns and mortars.
Arriving outside Ciccio's villa, Han Hu gave a wave of his arm. A deafening explosion instantly ripped through the night.
Before anyone inside could react, an endless metal storm shredded through the compound. As screams and flames engulfed the entire villa, Han Hu stood bathed in the firelight, tracing the scar at his mouth. "Leave none alive. Let them see what real cruelty looks like!"
A few minutes later, complete silence fell over the ruin.
Han Hu ordered his men to scrawl a message across the wall, making sure everyone knew exactly what kind of people Don Ciccio had provoked.
When the local authorities finally arrived, the gruesome carnage inside the villa made them break into a cold sweat. Automatic submachine guns like that weren't even standard issue for the army, yet these ruthless thugs were armed to the teeth with them. Just what kind of monsters were they?
***
By the following morning, news of Don Ciccio's slaughter had swept through the entire village and nearby towns, throwing the local Mafia into panic.
This foreign dragon had crossed the sea purely for blood, wiping out an entire household with terrifying brutality. It completely violated their traditional rules of engagement. Yet no one dared risk their neck to avenge Ciccio, because on the wall was written the name of the avengers in plain sight: He'an.
In the village of Corleone...
Vito Corleone had returned in triumph under the guise of an olive merchant, preparing to get close to Don Ciccio and avenge the murders of his father, mother, and brother from decades ago. But the moment he arrived, he learned that Ciccio had already been shot into a sieve, and his family had been strung up over the gate!
"What happened?" Vito Corleone asked in disbelief, genuine shock written across his face.
He had waited so many years to personally execute the man, yet someone had beaten him to it!
"It was He'an! We don't know the name, but they came from New York. Ciccio seized a shipment of their liquor and their boat, and less than ten days later, their man arrived. They brought bombs and weapons that spit endless streams of bullets. Everyone is dead, Vito!" an old acquaintance warned him, trembling with fright.
"He'an? Fuck, could it be that Chinese syndicate?"
Beside him, Clemenza was the first to react, staring wide-eyed at Vito. "Vito, we must never cross that Chinese boss! You know they run their own territory, their own power! Even the great Gatsby in Brooklyn answers to them! Go against them, and we'll all end up dead!"
Clemenza's voice trembled with fear. This was nothing like taking down Fanucci. Even Fanucci would have been a nobody before Gatsby, to say nothing of the Chinese kingpin behind him. Everyone in the know understood that Gatsby worked for the Silver Rock Group, an armaments conglomerate with connections far beyond anything small-time players like them could touch.
"Calm down, Peter. I have no intention of crossing them. I'm just surprised," Vito said, calming him down before glancing at Tessio.
Cold and decisive though Tessio was, he clearly dared not harbor any hostile thoughts toward the Chinese organization either. The disparity between them was too vast—like an ant standing before an elephant.
Vito pondered for a moment, then spoke slowly, "Perhaps this is an opportunity. I ought to go and thank them."
Hearing this, Clemenza's eyes widened. "Right! Vito, that's a great opportunity! We might even win unexpected backing!"
Unaware that someone was planning to pay him a visit of gratitude, Liu Ren was currently busy in Brooklyn, scouting out prime locations to establish his new bank.
Chapter 37