Empire of Shadows

The girls of Aldera were hot, and the cold weather couldn't stop them from showing their enthusiasm, from their intense and passionate dances to the looks in their eyes that longed to stay here and were willing to pay any price.

To have an exchange of soul and body with them, you only needed to take one more step forward, a small step, a step within reach!

Fortunately, Lance was a man of firm inner convictions, or rather, he had seen it all before. These small scenes stirred him a little, but compared to the real purpose of their trip, the venting of personal desires seemed less important.

He had talked with a friend before, and he strongly agreed with what that friend said, which was that people should learn to restrain their desires.

But unfortunately, this friend surnamed Du had passed away a few steps earlier than him. Although the days they spent together were not long, he felt that his friend was a very idealistic person.

Idealists will only be bruised and battered in the cruel and realistic world. If he could live again like himself, he hoped that he could have a wonderful life.

There was also a friend surnamed Lin, and they got along very well, but unfortunately Lance left a little earlier. He didn't know what happened to him later.

In any case, if a person can't even control his most primal desires, then that person will eventually sink into the abyss of desire.

It is worth noting that this control is not because of poverty.

If you can't have an environment to vent your desires because you are poor, and you just go home and have a wank, that's not called control.

The girls' fiery dances were close at hand. Through these dances that exuded passion and enthusiasm, people would have an impulse to join them.

In fact, everyone knew, including Lance, that he only needed to reach out and touch these girls, and they would stay the night.

They would wash themselves clean and then let Lance indulge for a night.

But Lance didn't reach out. He only appreciated the entire welcoming ceremony from the perspective of appreciating ethnic dance. That's what he thought.

Luigi had been watching them throughout the process. Until the girls left in disappointment, he didn't see any of the three young men brought by Alberto stay with any one or several of the girls.

Cultivated and profound.

This was his evaluation of Lance and the two fools beside him. He didn't continue to test them and let the girls leave.

The girls' disappointed eyes were heartbreaking, but compared to those little darlings that were about to be put into his pocket, this temptation was still a little lacking.

"A wonderful performance," he commented as a guest.

Luigi also responded with a smile, "I'm glad you like it, and I hope you'll like the food that follows."

A large number of animals from the Yalan primeval forest were dissected into pieces of food and brought to the table one by one under the chefs' acrobatic cooking.

Forest giant pythons, deep pool giant crocodiles, Yalan's unique forest leopards, all kinds of top predators in nature, were now placed on people's tables.

Maybe until they died, they wouldn't understand that humans eat them not because humans would die if they didn't eat them, but just for face and their fur.

At the dinner table, Mr. Luigi was very talkative. He described everything that happened after he came here with his family, and depicted the unity and bravery of the Sumeri people.

If they didn't believe in God, maybe everyone would have to kowtow together halfway through their speech to fully enjoy it.

After the meal, they changed rooms, and everyone leaned back freely on the sofa. Mr. Luigi looked at Alberto and Lance, "I thought you would have come last month."

Alberto took out a cigarette and handed one to him, "There was a little accident last month, but I believe that whether it's a month earlier or a month later, it won't change our business."

Mr. Luigi didn't ask what happened, but turned to look at Lance, "I heard you want a batch of wine?"

Lance nodded, "I need a large amount of low- and mid-range wine, and a small amount of high-end wine. Fruit wine, beer, whiskey, brandy, and red wine are all acceptable."

"A large amount?" Mr. Luigi lit a cigarette for Alberto first, and then himself. He shook the match to extinguish the flame, and a cloud of smoke came out of his mouth as he spoke. "How large is large?"

"Two hundred thousand, Federal Sol."

Mr. Luigi's mustache twitched. It was indeed not a small sum.

He leaned slightly to the side and gestured to his confidant. Soon, he pushed a dining car in from outside, which was filled with various wines, including beer.

"This is the wine I can provide you, but I strongly recommend you try this..."

He picked up a bottle of wine and poured a glass for Lance and Alberto, a small glass. Lance looked at the colorless and transparent liquid in the glass, which exuded a strong smell of alcohol.

He took a small sip. It was spicy on the entrance, and he felt his entire esophagus was on fire the moment he swallowed!

"Hoo!" He exhaled, as if the air was burning. He looked towards Alberto, whose face was red!

"What kind of wine is this?"

Mr. Luigi was very satisfied with the two men's reactions, "This is our local specialty, potato wine."

"Its raw materials are readily available, and it can reach a very high proof with just one distillation. Locals like this."

"Just a small glass..." He smiled and gestured with his fingers, "is enough to make people drunk."

Lance handed the glass in his hand to Hiram. Hiram smelled it and gave it to Laun. Laun tasted it with a puzzled expression, and his face quickly turned red.

"Too strong!" Lance shook his head, but soon showed a smile again, "I want this!"

Drunks don't care whether your wine is made from potatoes, tomatoes, or other crops. They only care whether the alcohol content is high enough to make them happy.

Cheap, low-alcohol beer, or even non-alcoholic sparkling fruit juice, plus a small glass of this, can quickly turn it into a cure for drunks!

If calculated according to one bottle mixed with six bottles of fruit juice, this potato wine is actually a very good low-end product. Its raw materials determine that it cannot have a very high price.

However, Alberto was not very interested in this wine. Mr. Pasleto supplied the wealthy in the Bay Area and some high-end places.

If you give them wine made from potatoes, it would be an insult to their status.

Then they tasted some local specialties one by one. Mr. Luigi was very much looking forward to this business.

Previously, Yalan's wine could not enter the federal market because the federal capitalists jointly promoted the passage of some bills, such as protective tariffs or import bans.

In addition, federal winemaking companies were more competitive in local production, storage, transportation, and terminal sales. It was difficult for wine of any grade to enter the federal market.

But this time, the federal government issued a prohibition order, which directly paralyzed the federal local winemaking enterprises. All the vineyards and wineries in Yalan were smiling from ear to ear.

If they didn't know how to write letters to thank the congressmen, there might have already been countless thank-you letters sent to Congress, thanking them for their contribution to the smuggling of alcohol in the Yalan region.

If he could sell a large amount of wine to the Federation through smuggling this time and open up the federal market for smuggled alcohol, then he would be able to gain more say and social status locally.

He made money, improved his social status, and developed more potential customers. He had already seen a golden road close at hand!

In the end, Lance decided on three kinds of wine: potato wine with about 65 degrees, a beer, and a mixed fruit wine.

This kind of mixed fruit wine, which obviously has a tropical jungle style, will definitely appeal to some young customers, like those young boys and girls.

After deciding on the type of wine, the rest was the price issue...

Just as Lance's new business was about to set sail, the Red Heels also welcomed its new manager.

Since Liam's death, the remaining Heller and others wanted to firmly grasp the Red Heels. It was the only channel for them, these people at the bottom of society, to reach the upper class.

But this channel was not so easy to manage. Before they could find the time to take control of it and turn it into their own resource, Lance sent them back to God's embrace.

After Lance refused to take over the Red Heels, the mayor arranged for a reliable subordinate to come and manage it.

It had been many days since the place had been operated or cleaned. When its door was pushed open again, stuffy air mixed with a rotting smell rushed out of the room.

This made the new manager, a tall, thin man with a receding hairline that revealed a shiny forehead, couldn't help but flutter his hands in front of his nose and take a few steps back. He could smell that the smell came from the garbage cans that had not been cleaned in time, the kitchen, and some of the dressing rooms.

Saliva with a large number of bacteria met mucus with a large number of glucose and protein, used to protect gene fragments, like a vivid biology lesson.

Garbage cans covered with mold were all over the rooms of the club, and some dirty clothes that were once covered with sweat or even grease, and had not had time to be washed, piled up in the corners and became part of this biological evolution.

Rotting vegetable leaves, rotting steaks, rotting everything...gave this place these nauseating moldy smells.

"God damn it!" The new manager was tall and thin, with a severely receding hairline, revealing a shiny forehead.

His skin was very white, his eyebrows were trimmed, his hair was light brown, he was wearing a cyan and white suit, and a white fur coat was draped over it.

The unusual white leather shoes made him look a bit flamboyant. After the foul air dissipated, he strode inside.

His name was Sam, not his real name, and he came from Estrilla City, one of the largest cities in the Federal States, also known as Paradise City.

It was hailed as "Paradise" fallen to Earth because this modern metropolis possessed a source of pleasure that could satisfy all human desires, provided you had money or were willing to go all out, regardless of gender.

Sam had previously worked in a nightclub in Paradise City. He looked like a somewhat thin and balding Federal man, but to his former employees, this man was a devil; he never did anything a human would do.

Angel City, Paradise City, just from the nicknames they gave their cities, you could tell how much they worshiped their lofty faith, God. But strangely, in the Federal States, where the atmosphere of faith was so strong, there were few who acted humanely. It had to be said that this was a huge irony.

Perhaps faith not only resolved their psychological guilt and fear but also helped them conceal their ugly faces.

The mayor, through some connections, transferred Sam over to run this Red High Heels.

The mayor's ambition wasn't just focused on Goldport City; now that a more reliable person had replaced the manager, his sights were set on the entire state.

Every district's mayor, city councilors, governor, the state assembly's senate and house of representatives, and those celebrities from all walks of life...

Just thinking about it made him feel great. Once he had secured most of these people, then after he stepped down from being mayor, two years as speaker of the house, six years as speaker of the senate, and then he could run for governor.

Only by standing in the position of governor could he truly say he had entered the Federal upper class.

And Sam was his hope and possibility.

"Clean up these damned places. I want to see them spotless before dawn tomorrow."

He said, pointing to the dirty places covered in dust and mold.

After taking a tour around the Red High Heels Club and not being too satisfied, he said directly to the mayor's confidant, "This has the decorating style of a small town. I'll give you a designer's business card."

"If you just want it to be a place where men come to spend money for pleasure, this decor is enough."

"But if you want it to become more upscale, a place where upper-class men can release their stress, then this is far from enough."

He turned around and looked at the people around him. "Where's the previous operator here?"

"What about the girls?"

The mayor's confidant gave a brief explanation. After listening, Sam raised his eyebrows. "So, besides this place and your support, I don't have anything else?"

He walked back and forth a few steps. "Find a way to get those girls from before back, and then I'll transfer a batch of people over here. Let's get it up and running first."

"The previous businesses can't stop. They've already laid a good foundation. As long as we maintain it, we can focus on external operations."

"I'm not someone who likes to drag things out, so… it needs to be done as soon as possible."

Some "old-timers" are more familiar with the working environment here and can get into the work faster.

In his opinion, those upper-class people with strange fetishes weren't difficult to approach, as long as you satisfied their little, ugly desires.

As for whether the girls would get hurt?

He had done similar work in Paradise City. Every year, he needed to buy at least two or three hundred disposable fragile items from human traffickers.

The richer people are, the higher their position, the more distorted their psychology becomes, and the more perverted their desire to release stress becomes.

This was the experience he had summarized.

Small citizens, workers on assembly lines, they are often subjected to anger, so it is very simple for them to release stress. They punch the wall, secretly scold the person who made them angry, and if that doesn't work, they imagine greeting the other person's family, and the anger disappears.

On the contrary, those upper-class respectable people, what causes them stress and negative emotions are often things they cannot resist.

Used to being pampered, the pressure and negative emotions they generate are difficult to discharge.

It's not just about punching a wall and saying a few swear words. They are not so tolerant of themselves, just like how they treat their enemies.

Their venting will be very violent. Only in this way, by trampling on the dignity or even the lives of others, can their negative emotions be relieved.

The Federal States' former comedy king once starred in a silent film called "The Emperor," in which he played a well-known dictator.

In one scene, when he felt unhappy about a small matter, he directly pulled out the weapon from the waist of the person next to him and beat to death the person who had always been very loyal to him.

Because his performance and the content of the performance were a mockery of dictators, people would laugh at the absurdity of the emperor he played, laughing so hard they couldn't close their mouths.

But in reality, it was very scary.

Only destruction can soothe the anger of the big shots. He needed fragile items.

After giving the instructions, Sam returned to the temporary villa. The mayor's confidant told the mayor some of Sam's requests, and the mayor's reply was, "I know."

This answer actually meant "Do as he says." If he disagreed, he would use "I'll consider it" as an answer.

Originally, Red High Heels' manager, Liam's confidant, had been arrested in a series of police actions and sent to prison.

But because of a phone call, he was released again and, in the shortest possible time, sent to Sam's presence.

The former manager, who had been tortured in prison, was obviously much more haggard and had become more cautious. He held the edge of his hat in both hands in front of his chest, shrinking his neck and hunching his back as he stood in front of Sam.

Sam had a slender cigarette holder in his hand, with a delicate gesture. He looked up and down at the former manager and asked, "Can you still find those girls?"

The former manager nodded repeatedly. "Yes, I know each of their information."

Sam waved his toe at him with satisfaction. "Get them back. If you do, you'll still be the manager of Red High Heels."

"If you can't, then go back to where you came from. Am I clear enough?"

The former manager quickly bent over. "Very clear and easy to understand, Mr. Sam."

"Then what are you waiting for here?!" Sam immediately showed his meanness, and the former manager ran out in a panic.

Watching the manager's swaying little butt as he ran, Sam suddenly showed a meaningful smile.

To succeed, you always have to pay something.

Just like that.