Empire of Shadows

The bell jingled, and the owner, without looking up from behind the counter, said, "If you're planning to buy something, welcome."

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"If you're here to rob me, I can only say you're too late."

After saying this, he finally looked up at the people who had walked in.

Five young people, wearing hoodies, hid themselves within them.

"Shit!" he cursed, "If you're planning to rob me, like I said, you're too late."

The five young people were probably encountering this kind of thing for the first time; one stood at the door, while the other four entered the store.

The store wasn't large, but it wasn't small either, about thirty square meters, filled with many small items, but nothing of great value.

All of them were common everyday items: candy, stationery, pencils, some snacks, seasonings, and a small amount of clothing and daily necessities.

Two of them walked up to the counter, and one of the young men took out a half-foot-long dagger from his pocket, gesturing for him to take out the cash box, "I don't want to hurt you."

The owner cursed, but still took out the cash box, which only had a handful of coins left inside.

Obvious dissatisfaction appeared on the young man's face, "Where's the money?"

The owner continued to explain patiently, "Someone already came fifty minutes ago, you're too late, and you're the third group..."

This time it was the young man's turn to curse, "Fuck!" He glanced at the coins in the cash box, mostly pennies and two-cent pieces; the nickels, dimes, quarters, and anything larger, including the bills, had already been taken.

Taman risked getting caught to rob the store for the sole purpose of finding a way to get some money.

As a result, he hadn't gotten any money, but he had taken on the risk, which made the young man very dissatisfied.

He placed the dagger on the counter, reached out to grab the coins in the cash box, and said as he grabbed, "You guys go get something valuable..."

The store owner was stunned for a moment after hearing this, then shouted, "Hey, you've already robbed me, I won't call the police, now I'm saying, enough!"

The young men all suddenly looked at him, and he mustered his courage, "I've been robbed seven times in three days, enough, I'm saying!"

"I don't care what gang you're from, I haven't called the police once, but now, enough, don't take my things, those I can still sell for some money."

Anger was hidden in his tone.

He felt sorry that the change was stolen, but his heartache was limited.

Those coins added up to only twenty or thirty dollars, which was indeed a lot, but some of the items in the store, whether in terms of cost or profit, were no worse than what had been stolen.

For example, some spices, cheap ones were twenty or thirty cents a pound, expensive ones were several dollars or even ten dollars a pound. Although there were many poor people in the Imperial District, it didn't mean that no one consumed this.

They might only consume it once a month, or three months, but as long as there was consumption, it meant there was a market and profit.

If they took it all away, the loss would be more than just a little money.

There were also a small number of high-value daily necessities, which also cost several dimes each, and they could fit a lot in their pockets!

The young man who was putting coins into his pocket grabbed the dagger on the counter and gestured at him, "If you don't want to get hurt, you better shut your mouth."

The owner took a step back and raised his hands, "I don't mean anything else, take some food and drinks, then leave and try your luck somewhere else, I'm already unlucky enough."

The young man stuffing money gave him a deep look, ignored him, put the dagger back on the counter, and continued to stuff coins.

These coins were not easy to stuff, not because his pockets were not big enough, but because some coins would slip out of his fingertips when he grabbed them.

At the same time, some would stick to the bottom or side of the cash box, making it inconvenient to grab, which forced him to use both hands in the end.

Although they were all pennies and two-cent pieces, there were also some nickels, and this small box had at least three or four dollars.

Three or four dollars, isn't that money?

At the same time, two young men were a little irritable looking at the items on the shelves that were not of high value.

One of the young men casually grabbed a bag of hanging snacks, tore it open, took out a piece, and chewed it in his mouth.

It was a bit hard, but after the saliva soaked this hard thing, he could scrape some soft "meat" off of it with his teeth, and the taste was okay.

Most importantly, he thought it tasted good, with a very special fragrance, and it was very sweet.

He looked down, shared the food in his hand with his friend, sharing is a positive spirit, he was happy to share, "Tastes good, want some?"

His companion looked at him with a strange look, then bent down and picked up the part of the packaging bag that he had torn off, "It says 'pet food' on it..."

"Shit!" He quickly spat out what he hadn't swallowed in his mouth, and slammed the thing in his hand on the ground, the thumb-sized biscuit-like things scattered everywhere with a crash.

He snatched the packaging bag from his companion's hand and took a look—Sweet Potato Bone Meat Mud Teething Stick.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly, watching his other companions laugh unscrupulously, even the young man who was counting coins couldn't help but turn around and laugh at him, he kicked the shelf!

This kind of small street shop, the shop area itself is not large, but it needs to operate many categories, only in this way can it attract enough business, this may be the earliest "one-stop shopping".

So the shelves are full of goods, and there is not much space left between the shelves.

When one shelf tilted and fell, hitting another shelf, although the other shelf was not affected and fell, many items were damaged and fell to the ground in the collision.

Looking at the tilted and fallen cabinet, and those things that fell down, which might be broken, the owner's eyes were a little dark.

He couldn't stand these young people anymore!

"Enough... take what you need, and get the fuck out of my store!"

Another young man standing by the counter opened a bottle of soda and splashed the soda in his hand at the owner, "Looks like you haven't figured out the situation, Mr. Boss."

Several gazes shifted to him, and the owner finally calmed down a bit, "You just want to take something away, there's no need to make a mess of my place, I've been very cooperative."

Just as they were about to say something else, suddenly a young man shouted, "Hey!" "Look what I found!"

He stood at the other end of the store, holding up a small sack in his hand, and the others looked at him, it was a bag for spices.

"These are spices, my mother puts these things in when she braises meat, she told me these things are not cheap, two or three dollars a pound!"

"There are at least a dozen pounds here, maybe more!"

The owner's tolerance had reached its limit, he glanced at the dagger on the counter, and the corner of his eye seemed to notice that the young man who had splashed soda on him earlier was looking at him.

He looked up at the young man, yes, the other party was looking at him, and also saw his previous actions.

The eyes of the two people had a brief confrontation in the air, and at the same time looked at the dagger placed on the counter.

The young man made an obvious movement of lowering his center of gravity, and the owner was closer to the dagger.

He snatched the dagger, held it in both hands, "I don't want to hurt anyone, now get out of my store..."

The young man drinking the drink directly took out a Mag-Leigh Defense Revolver from his pocket and shot the owner.

The sound of the gun caused the pedestrians on the sidewalk to scream and run away after a brief moment of astonishment.

In the store, the owner looked down at the wound on his waist and abdomen, which began to bleed outwards, and at this moment, he couldn't even feel the slightest pain!

He instinctively covered the wound, took two steps back and leaned against the wall, his eyes seemed to suddenly become empty, and he slid down along the wall.

He began to breathe heavily, and everything around him seemed to no longer affect him!

The young man who was stuffing money suddenly woke up, he grabbed his companion's gun-holding hand, and he also roared in shock, "Are you crazy?"

"You're going to kill us!"

"We're just here to rob, if he dies, we'll all be on the wanted list."

The young man with the gun was also a little regretful and scared, most young people are like this, they will make impulsive actions without thinking at some point, and then regret what they have done.

But he also had his own reasons, "He snatched your dagger, I was afraid he would hurt you."

The two looked at each other for a moment, the young man taking the money glanced at the owner, glared at him fiercely, and jumped over the counter.

Looking at the owner sitting there blankly as if he had lost his soul, he didn't know what to do to save this damn situation, but he didn't know what to do, so he could only stand for a few seconds, picked up the dagger on the ground and jumped out again.

He glanced at the other young people who were standing there dumbfounded, and said loudly, "Take the valuable spices you mentioned, we'll leave immediately!"

People on the sidewalk still didn't know what had happened, and some people curiously looked over here.

The owner was an old immigrant, he had been here for more than thirty years, and he ran this small store here, and he was considered a well-known person on the whole street.

He was a good person, with the characteristics of Imperial immigrants, he rarely argued with people, and he often took the initiative to give in when encountering trouble.

This gave him a very good harmless image, and people liked to associate with harmless people because they knew they wouldn't be suddenly stabbed by an honest person.

Now, something had clearly happened in his shop, and some people who had a good relationship with him were worried.

Just as they were unsure of what had happened and were planning to figure it out, five young men suddenly rushed out of the store.

They were all carrying burlap sacks of various sizes, and one of them, when running out, used too much force, causing his leather shoe to split open.

His foot slipped out from the burst seam, causing him to lose his balance and fall.

The sack in his hand fell to the ground, scattering a large pile of spices, and as he was about to stuff them back in, his companions grabbed him and told him to hurry.

It was also during this process that his hood was pulled back, revealing his face to some people.

Someone in the crowd recognized him; the Imperial District was large in name, but not so much in reality.

The entire Imperial District, according to official but not necessarily accurate statistics, had a population of about 150,000, with Imperials accounting for 130,000, and 20,000 Federal citizens or immigrants from other places.

Having so many people did not mean there were that many families; in fact, if calculated at least two people per family, then the Imperial District would have at most 75,000 families.

But here, there obviously couldn't be that many families; many families had more than just two people, like Mr. Bolton's family, he and his wife were divorced, and there were still three people.

Some families even had three generations living together, which was five, six, or even seven or eight people.

So, the Imperial District, with over a hundred thousand people, if counted by "family" units, would only have over thirty thousand families.

In this not-so-spacious area, almost everyone knew each other.

The five young men quickly left, and some people curiously entered the store, seeing the boss sitting against the wall, with a large pool of blood...

Seven or eight minutes later, the boss was sent to the ambulance; he was lucky, at least his life was saved.

But his luck wasn't so good; the medical expenses became a new nightmare after he was shot.

Before pushing him into the operating room, the doctor specifically asked if he had the ability to pay.

If he did, then they would do their best to save him, because every rescue measure, every participating doctor, nurse, would add some weight to the final bill.

Even if the nurse or doctor who went in just stood there in a daze, they would receive a "rescue subsidy," and this subsidy was obviously not given to them by the hospital.

But if he didn't have the ability to pay, then the final result might be "very regrettable."

After three hours of rescue, he survived, but two-thirds of his liver had been removed, and he also owed the hospital more than three thousand dollars.

After deducting his insurance.

At a little past ten in the evening, a young man with a cigarette in his mouth came to the door on the side of the road; he looked around, and when no one was following him, he opened the door and walked in.

This was a small house, with only one room, containing two beds and four young men.

When they saw the young man, they were both relieved and a little nervous.

The young man who had shot during the day nervously asked, "Did he get saved?"

The young man who robbed the money nodded, "He got saved, he didn't die."

The other four breathed a sigh of relief.

This good news allowed them to sleep well tonight, sleeping until almost noon the next day.

After they woke up, they thought of turning the spices into cash; after discussion, someone suggested that he knew an antique shop that collected this.

In the Federation, antique shops were roughly synonymous with "second-hand goods recycling shops" and "fencing locations"; here they would not ask where your things came from, but only give you an outrageously low price.

"Sell it or not" was their motto, and of course, their reasons were also very sufficient—if you can produce proof of purchase for this item and sign a sales agreement with me, promising to bear all possible losses and all legal responsibilities.

Then, they can give a slightly higher price.

But who the hell would keep those things and sign such a document?

For some people who are eager to dispose of stolen goods, this seems to be one of the few places that doesn't care about whether the things in their hands are clean or not.

As soon as the five young men entered the door, they heard the sound of a weapon being cocked.

The boss wearing a floral turban stood behind the counter, with a rifle they didn't recognize on the counter, the boss's hand gripping the connection between its stock and barrel.

He could lift it up to shoot at any time, even so, he still looked at them warily and carefully, introducing the weapon in his hand in a tone similar to introducing a product.

"Stuart Deer Hunter rifle, built-in ammunition supply structure, someone proficient in this thing can fire three shots in a second."

"And I happen to be someone familiar with it."

"There is a loaded deer rifle here, but there are only five of you."

The young men finally understood what this boss meant, although they really didn't have a plan to rob the antique shop.

This is actually a very interesting thing, especially in the Federation.

Many people would rob roadside shops or even pedestrians, and after robbing something, send it to the antique shop to cash it in, so why didn't they rob the antique shop from the beginning?

This may be another unsolved mystery!

They slowly raised their hands, and the young man standing in the front swallowed, "Sir, we are here to sell something."

The old man glanced at them, thinking about some of the rumors that had spread in the Imperial District last night, and some of the things that happened this morning, he raised his chin.

"Let your people leave, you stay with what you want to sell, that's the rule here, I don't receive a group of people at the same time."

The young man considered it and agreed.

Then a dozen burlap sacks were placed on the counter, and the strong smell of spices filled the entire room at once.

The floral turban boss fanned the floating spice dust with his hand while coughing and checking these things.

"How much are they worth?" the young man asked uneasily.

Looking at these things, the floral turban boss already knew that they were the things that were robbed yesterday, and said without showing any emotion, "I need to check, I'm old, I can't remember the prices of these goods, they are written in one of my notebooks."

"But I estimated, there are about twenty pounds here, at least fifty dollars is worth it."

The young man smiled, "Then what are you waiting for?"

The floral turban boss smiled meaningfully, "Wait for me for a while, I'll go check their prices..."

He went back to the back with the gun, he wasn't too afraid of the things in the shop being taken away by these guys, those were all imitations, not worth much.

The valuable things are not in the front.

He came to the back, picked up the phone, and dialed a number.

After the phone was connected, he said to the other end of the phone, "The people who injured the grocery store owner yesterday are selling their stolen goods in my shop..."