Brooklyn.
Inside a luxurious manor, the men gathered in the room wore solemn expressions.
Standing behind Vito Corleone, Luca Shanggelaite was on edge.
Even as a member of the Mafia, he was still an underling subordinate to the Corleone family.
And above Corleone, there was an even more terrifying power broker in Brooklyn: Jay Gatsby.
If not for this major crisis, Luca Shanggelaite probably would never have learned that behind a figure as prominent as Gatsby stood an even more terrifying titan—the president of Silver Rock Arms and New State Bank.
"Pardon me, I was just making a phone call. Thank you all for waiting!"
Walking in through the main doors, Liu Ren wore a deeply serious expression.
As soon as he sat down on the sofa, Gatsby spoke up, visibly embarrassed. "Sir, the fault in this matter lies primarily with me!"
"Enough, Gatsby. I didn't come here to assign blame."
Raising a hand to cut him off, Liu Ren looked at Gatsby with a placid expression. When trouble arose, the priority was to solve it, not to browbeat the men working for him. After all, so long as it wasn't born of reckless stupidity, minor complications were only natural.
Yet as soon as those words left his mouth, Liu Ren turned to Luca standing behind Vito. "Your father was murdered. Did you know that, Luca?"
Looking back at Liu Ren with a bitter expression, Luca bowed his head immediately. "I only received word yesterday!"
"I don't care how your father made an enemy of the Shelby family, but they've crossed the line. Teaming up with those damned Kray twins to cut off my liquor supply lines?"
Legend!
At that point, Liu Ren fixed his eyes on Luca. "Do you understand what that means?"
"I've cost the company money!"
Looking at Liu Ren, Luca Shanggelaite knew full well that ever since the Corleone family took over the liquor business in Britain, he had been placed in charge of it.
He had come from Britain himself and had connections of his own.
Yet now, because of his family's personal feud, the syndicate had suffered a massive financial loss.
Back when Luca was in Britain, he had entrusted a substantial portion of the liquor operations to his father. It strengthened his own standing while pulling in vast fortunes—killing two birds with one stone.
Anyone with eyes could see what had been happening. Vito never intervened, thereby earning Luca's gratitude in return.
As for Gatsby, so long as the books balanced, he stayed out of it—especially since he was currently nursing a broken heart.
However, things didn't always go as planned. Now that trouble had struck and the British supply route was severed, the syndicate's revenue had taken a massive hit.
Tapping on the table, Liu Ren stared at Luca. "I'll provide you with men. Settle this for me within half a month. I don't give a damn who the Shelbys are, nor do I care how powerful the Kray brothers are in London. I only care about results: finish them off. If you can't finish them, I'll finish you. Understood?"
"Yes, Boss, I understand!"
Staring at Liu Ren, Luca instantly felt the crushing weight of intimidation behind the command.
Setting that matter aside, Liu Ren turned his head and said, "Congratulations on becoming a father again, Vito. I've prepared a gift for you!"
As Liu Ren spoke, A Chao picked up a box. "Have a look. Perhaps you'll like it."
Opening the box revealed an exquisite Vacheron Constantin watch.
"Thank you, Liu. I like it very much."
Looking at Liu Ren with a warm smile, Vito nodded in appreciation.
"Now that business is settled, let's head downstairs for a drink!"
Flashing a gentle smile, Liu Ren stood up and led everyone toward the dining room.
After leaving the manor, Luca followed behind Vito, and the two climbed into a black sedan.
Glancing at Vito beside him, Luca asked with a furrowed brow, "Is the Boss truly not angry?"
"Liu is not a petty man, but you must handle this cleanly. Do you understand, Luca? No one gets a second chance—especially when it concerns a business worth millions or tens of millions. It will cost many people their lives!"
Warning Luca, Vito hadn't expected things on the ground to spiral out of control to such an extent either, effectively severing their operations at the waist.
If Vito had been in Liu Ren's shoes, he likely wouldn't have possessed such a mild temper.
Given Tessio's ruthless nature, if he had found out what the Shelbys had done, he would have paid them a visit with a submachine gun long ago.
Yet this also proved, from another angle, that Liu Ren was a man worth following. He didn't lose his temper over his subordinates' mistakes; instead, he reinforced them with more men to resolve the crisis.
In the twentieth century, losing a business worth tens of millions would drive anyone mad.
Only a man as "benevolent" as Liu Ren could stay so calm. Had it been that scoundrel Zhang or Mad Lu, they would have prayed to Mazu in the morning, landed ashore by noon, and started silencing witnesses by nightfall!
Yet this was precisely Liu Ren's greatest strength: he remained entirely rational—unless four Horsemen of the Apocalypse suddenly rolled up on the road!
Inside the manor, cigar smoke drifted through the air.
Holding a cigar between his fingers, Liu Ren casually flipped through a comic book with a tranquil expression, looking utterly at ease.
Watching him, A Chao asked in utter bewilderment, "Aren't you going to give them a warning? This doesn't seem like you at all! If they botch this and the British routes collapse completely, that's tens of millions of dollars down the drain!"
Looking up, Liu Ren smiled faintly. "Give them a warning for what? They're my men! When trouble strikes, it's my job to back them up! Otherwise, how can I call myself the boss? Besides, haven't I given him the chance to handle it?"
With that, Liu Ren rested his cigar on the ashtray. "People make mistakes. We ought to show a little mercy."
Staring at Liu Ren in shock, A Chao threw his hands up in confusion. Was this really the same bastard who used to swing an axe straight into someone's skull?
"What's with that look? You didn't actually think wearing a suit and tie makes me a gentleman, did you? Once I take these clothes off, I'm still a thug through and through! It just hasn't come to that yet!"
Addressing A Chao, Liu Ren then tapped a finger against the comic book. "By the way, go track down this comic artist!"
"Huh?"
Looking at Liu Ren in confusion, A Chao stepped forward. "Did he mock you in his drawings or something?"
"No, no, don't misunderstand. I just feel this guy's ending isn't very pleasant! I want to advise him that a person ought to be kind!"
With that said, Liu Ren narrowed his eyes. "Once you find him, beat him half to death first, then tell him to change the damn ending for me. Got it? What kind of trash is this? I just wanted to read a comic, and I end up getting stabbed in the heart! Dammit!"
Picking up the comic and skimming it for a while, A Chao slammed it down in rage as well. "Damn it all, what kind of garbage is this? I'll go find Han Hu right now!"
In an apartment somewhere in Manhattan.
A cartoonist, yawning widely, was startled awake by a knock at the door.
The moment he opened it, he found the hulking, broad-shouldered Han Hu staring down at him with a chilling expression.
"Who are you guys?"
Just as the cartoonist asked the question, Han Hu held up the comic book. "Did you draw this?"
"Aha! You read my comic too? Would you like an autograph?"
Staring at Han Hu with excitement, the cartoonist never imagined for a second that he was about to be hunted down by readers because his comic's ending was too heartbreaking.
"Good, as long as it's you! Take this!"
Handing the comic over, Han Hu pulled a thick wad of US dollars from his coat pocket and stuffed it straight into the man's collar.
"Is something the matter? Why are you giving me money? This isn't right—I don't charge for autographs..."
Protesting, the cartoonist still spoke with a touch of pride.
Yet in the next second, Han Hu clenched his fist. "Nothing's the matter with us. That's your hospital money, because there's about to be something very wrong with you!"
A shrill scream echoed through the hallway as the cartoonist was instantly pummeled into a wailing mess.
Throwing punches, Han Hu cursed viciously, "Fuck! How dare you draw such a depressing comic! Don't you know how wicked that is, you bastard!"
Chapter 47