Chapter 1115: Voluntary Choice

The burning factory, the bodies still scattered on the ground—the expressions on the faces of the men standing outside the warehouse were as grim as if a family member had died.

The young man at the front, his face illuminated red by the firelight, fiercely kicked a stone. The stone shot out, leaving a white mark on the wall before rolling onto the roadside.

"Let's go."

The group arrived quickly and left just as fast. Half an hour later, Bob pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was throbbing.

It felt as though someone had slammed a baseball bat into his skull; the entire world was spinning.

The loss of millions of dollars worth of inventory was enough to cause him financial pain, not to mention the factory being completely destroyed.

"This matter..." Bob released his hands and looked at the few family members in the room. After gaining control and enjoying the sweetness of power, he was finally feeling the backlash of authority.

Responsibility.

He had a headache. He felt that the harder he tried, the further he moved from his goal.

He wanted to become the next family patriarch, or at least gain more power, which required him to prove his competence and silence all dissenting voices.

But the harder he tried, the worse the family's situation became. The Lance family attacks were relentless, and he received no help from the Federal government or the police, instead becoming a target himself.

One would assume such a large gang family should wield significant dominance and shouldn't be made so passive by an outsider like the Lance family.

Bob had previously thought so too. He believed dealing with the Lance family would be simple—just a gang fight. He had more gunmen and weapons than they did. He was the one who should be victorious.

But the reality was different.

The reason was simple: he had never truly interacted with, seen, or understood the real operational mode of society, gangs, and government.

He merely believed, like many family members, that their strength stemmed from their inherent power.

It was like a boxer obsessed with his fists, believing that talent alone guaranteed victory—too naive.

Certainly, if only the strength of the two boxers' punches and their resilience were considered, those simple numbers would decide the fight.

But this wasn't a simple numbers game. For a gang to fully utilize its power, a prerequisite was required: a protector.

The protector was like the referee in a boxing match. When a referee favored one boxer, he would turn a blind eye to any foul or inappropriate action committed by them.

But the opponent, even if they landed a clean punch, would be immediately stopped and penalized.

Now, their protector was not only losing its effectiveness, but the local enforcement body responsible for executing their will had defected to the Lance family.

That was why Bob felt so constrained.

The more he did, the more mistakes he made, sinking deeper into the mud, and the fiercer the Lance family's attacks became!

He hadn't grasped this principle before, believing their position of local dominance was self-made.

But now, he understood.

"There is a traitor in the family."

"And I've been thinking about this problem for days. The current situation is highly unfavorable to us. We need viable solutions that can change the game."

He looked at the men in the room. They were few, but they were his confidantes and trusted subordinates. "The reason we are passive is that we are losing control of this city."

"The core issue is one we've always overlooked: we always viewed the Police Chief as a small-time figure."

"That ungrateful dog Hull—I never gave him the time of day, but now, he is the one who is biting us the hardest."

His face was terrifyingly grim. Only he, and those like him, could feel this pain—a pain that cut deep into the soul.

A dog they raised was now ferociously turning on them. The hatred and fury were hard to describe.

It was likely related to the fact that Bob, and Fran, had never treated the Bearded Director as a person.

At the time, their power was immense. They knew Senators and high-level officials. A single phone call could cost the Bearded Director his job and send him scurrying back to the countryside.

But things were different now. Their patrons couldn't replace the Police Chief at will. This man, whom they never took seriously, was now fiercely retaliating.

And he was difficult to deal with.

The police were the most fundamental and largest law enforcement body in the Federation. Even the Perez family couldn't openly confront them.

They couldn't attack the police or engage in a gunfight with them. If they did, the militia would quickly enter the city and eliminate them all.

That was the rule of the game. When they couldn't change the rules, they had to obey them.

It was these rules, coupled with the current situation, that completely blocked all their options and escape routes.

A ruthless glint flashed in Bob's eyes. He looked at the men around him. "I need someone to eliminate Hull. Take him out."

"This task is dangerous because that son of a bitch is hiding inside the police station. One of you needs to go into the station to do the job."

"To be clear, whether the mission succeeds or fails, that person is dead."

"If he succeeds, he will be sent to the electric chair, without a doubt. This is the greatest provocation to the judicial system, and they will not spare him."

"If he fails, given that old dog's character, even if the person survives to reach prison, he won't make it out alive."

"I am not asking you to go yourselves. See if you can find some willing martyrs. Money is no object. If they succeed, I will grant any reasonable condition they ask."

"We will temporarily slow the attacks on the Lance family. Until we deal with that son of a bitch Hull, we will remain passive."

He sighed heavily. Perhaps neither he nor Fran had ever imagined that dealing with a gang from a remote region would be so passive and so difficult.

As for the uncontrollable risks this might bring, he no longer cared.

He then looked at one of the men. "The rest of you can leave for now."

"Think about who you might know. Ask them if they are willing to make a sacrifice for the family."

"Layman, you stay. I have some questions for you."

Layman was Bob's cousin. They had been close since childhood. Bob's father was a core family member, but Layman's father was not, which made Layman's childhood and youth difficult.

His father was always busy with family tasks. That period was the family's era of ruthless, aggressive expansion.

With immense rewards came immense risks.

Bob had been slightly more mature than his peers at the time. He had money and knew how to spend it to gain support and loyalty. Layman was one of the people who followed him then.

Over the years, out of twenty or so childhood friends, only a few remained.

Some died in the line of duty, and others left the family business for civilian life.

Layman was one of the few people Bob trusted completely, even more than his own son.

After the others left, Layman closed the door and walked back to the table. "Bob?"

Bob snapped out of his thoughts. He lit a cigarette. "Did you take care of the matter I asked you to handle last time?"

He had given Layman a list of people to kidnap. This kind of task typically wouldn't require much effort from them.

In the past, they would simply call the Bearded Director, give him the list, and he would provide the information.

But now that the Bearded Director had broken ties with them, things were tricky. They still had some contacts inside the police department, but relying on scattered individuals to find the current residential information of everyone on the list was not easy.

The Federation had no official household registration policy. Social Security numbers weren't managed by the police department. Even if they were, finding people's current addresses among the mountain of files was difficult.

Many people's registered addresses weren't their actual residences. For instance, many people in Creek Valley City, Likalai State, were still registered there but worked in Golden Port City.

If they only searched based on the old information, they might search for a hundred years and still not find them.

Only by mobilizing the full force of law enforcement could they find them quickly.

But that power was unavailable to them now, so they had to rely on themselves.

Layman nodded. "I found some of them. Others are still unaccounted for."

He paused, then asked cautiously, "What's wrong with these people?"

Bob frowned. He thought for a moment and decided to tell Layman the truth. "Fran's health is very poor. The doctor said he needs a lung transplant. That's essentially the situation."

"These are the people they selected—the young, healthy carriers who are suitable to provide Fran with the necessary organ. Don't spread this news."

Layman's eyes widened upon hearing the completely unexpected answer. "What the f***?"

"They... their organs can be used for Fran?"

"Does this mean people can live forever soon?"

This news was world-altering for ordinary people of the time. "If he can transplant his brain into someone else's body, does that mean he can stay young and healthy forever?"

"F***! God himself would weep!"

Bob wasn't sure about the medical specifics; he was just a gang cadre. If he knew that much, he'd be working in a lab somewhere.

"Don't overthink it. If that were possible, it would only be a good thing for us, not a bad one. Focus on your job first."

"Don't be surprised like a country farmer. The times are always changing."

Layman pursed his lips. The news was both shocking and filled with room for fantasy.

"The family situation is dire now. We need Fran."

After the conversation ended, they left. Although the Perez family hadn't publicly announced the factory attack, the news spread through Old City the next day:

Their warehouse and factory were eliminated by the Lance family, resulting in massive losses!

The Perez family's reputation in Old City plummeted. Not long ago, people viewed the Lance family as arrogant fools challenging an unbeatable opponent.

But now, they sensed the Perez family might genuinely be in trouble.

That morning, Bob returned to the hospital. Fran still looked half-dead, lying in bed with an oxygen tube. The television was muted.

"I heard some rumors outside. Even though I'm lying here, my ears still work."

Fran looked at Bob. "I didn't expect you to be so passive. You are usually very clever."

Bob flushed. He wasn't sure if Fran was mocking him or being sincere. "Someone betrayed the family."

Fran slowly shook his head. "Find him, and eliminate him."

"Don't tell me you only came here to tell me this."

His eyes were filled with anticipation. Only by lying here did he realize how vital a healthy body was!

He desperately craved the feeling of taking a deep breath of fresh air, instead of the constant struggle he was in now.

The moment he removed the oxygen tube, he felt instantly suffocated.

Bob tried not to disappoint him. "We have faced many challenges. The Mayor hasn't helped, and Hull betrayed us. We're in a tough spot."

"We can't use official channels to find those people, but I managed to find several. I hope they will be useful to you."

Fran had been angry, but the news of the donors eased his frustration.

He smiled. "Next time, choose your words better, or you'll get hit."

He smiled again. "Contact my doctor. He'll tell you what to do."

Bob nodded. "I will." He paused. "I plan to eliminate Hull, inside the police station."

"He caused us too much damage. It's not that we are no match for the Lance family; he is actively helping them against us."

"We will remain passive until we eliminate him."

Fran glanced at him. "So, you killed his family first."

Although lying in bed, Fran was still the family patriarch. Information flowed to him. He knew Bob had moved too quickly.

This carried a subtle undertone of blame. If Bob hadn't been so rash, the Bearded Director might not have fully aligned with Lance.

All Bob needed to do was ensure the Chief remained neutral with a few subtle moves.

After eliminating the Lance family, they could deal with all the fence-sitters later, however they saw fit.

Bob himself regretted his haste. He had been too quick to prove his worth to the family.

Fran understood his urgency. After all, he wasn't truly dead; he still had a chance to recover.

Bob needed to prove his competence and secure a major victory for the family under his leadership before Fran fully recovered.

Fran knew everything, but he didn't show his emotions. That was the biggest difference between him and Bob.

He would deal with these matters slowly after his recovery, rather than acting rashly and closing all his options.

Bob did not respond to Fran's implied criticism, instead continuing with his plan. "After Hull is eliminated, we need to promote one of our people to take his position."

Fran nodded. "I will talk to the Mayor."

"He has been playing blind, deaf, and mute for too long. It's time for him to do something."

Bob clenched his fist. "I'll go handle things now."

Fran blinked, and the muted television came back on.

Leaving the ward, Bob immediately sought out the doctor. The doctor understood their methods and emphasized, "You must ensure these people are willing donors before we can bring them to the operating room."

Bob was now agitated. He suppressed his rising frustration and asked, "How do I prove they are willing?"

The doctor pulled a document from his drawer. "Have them sign and fingerprint this document."

Bob looked at the document in his hand—

《Voluntary Organ Donation Commitment Form》