In the evening, the sky over Los Angeles had completely darkened.

In most areas, the streetlights on both sides were bright, the flow of traffic was constant, and pedestrians passed by from time to time, giving the entire road a sense of vitality.

However, there were also a few dark zones where streetlights were sparse, casting large shadows on the road with their dim, yellow light. Forget traffic, not even the shadow of a stray animal could be seen. Most of the buildings on both sides were hidden in darkness, with only homeless people curled up in corners, treating the roadside ground as their home.

Ever since the environment had taken a turn for the worse, more and more people had made their homes in these corners—even if it was the city center, and even if it was a prosperous district to most, to this group of displaced people, it was nothing more than a ruin adorned with pretty lights on the outside.

The more fastidious ones would set up a small tent or scavenge a cardboard box, while the less particular ones would sit on the ground clutching their clothes, supplemented by a little pre-sleep 'medication' for a boost. They would then lower their heads, slumped in a daze within the darkness, waiting to be completely swallowed by it at some unknown time.

Compared to the daytime, this place was undoubtedly filthier, colder, and more dangerous.

Aside from those already living here, almost no one usually passed through.

Even their own people chose to remain silent in the dark once night fell, no longer moving about, as if afraid of provoking an even more terrifying and dangerous existence...

But today was slightly different.

Two men wearing hats and masks stepped into the night and entered this place.

As a place long since divided into territories by various underground factions, their appearance was like fireflies in the dark—so bright and eye-catching.

Almost as soon as they stepped foot inside, obscure gazes were fixed upon them.

The deep night did not prevent news from quickly circulating between people...

—

Moses was a boss in the underground black market.

Where he was currently located was the deepest part of these dark alleys.

It was a small shack temporarily built from a tricycle with a sheet-metal roof. The ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) surrounding walls were made of layers of rags and old clothes, letting in the draft. It looked crooked and appeared as if it might collapse at any moment.

At this moment, only a single dim yellow light bulb hung from the top of the canopy, swaying and casting flickering light. One could only vaguely see a counter temporarily built with a wooden board inside, covered in scratches and grease. Directly beneath the board was a pile of cluttered old parts, cables, and unidentified equipment.

Finally, the position closest to the driver's seat—the innermost part of the'shack'—was stacked with cardboard boxes forming a shelf that separated the front from the back. It was covered with another waterproof tarp to prevent the 'merchandise' from getting damp.

The air smelled of engine oil and mold, but Moses was already used to it.

He just hummed a tuneless song, using a grey rag of indistinguishable color to carefully wipe the camera lens in his hand.

Because Moses was backed by a gang with a bit of a background, he was considered a boss in this area. This dilapidated shop built on a tricycle did not attract the greed of the people here.

As the only shop owner in this special zone, no one dared to provoke Moses. Even high junkies would wobble off elsewhere, dragging their half-exposed backsides. Those usually blind hoodlums would even wander nearby from time to time to intimidate the surrounding people and manage the 'public order' by the way.

—Yes, although this was the United States, it was already another mode of social operation.

Here, they had their own way of survival; it had effectively become a small internal society.

And without a doubt, Moses stood at the top of the food chain here, being the guy with the most connections and resources among this group of trash-like people.

So, besides selling a bit of 'flour' and doing small business, Moses also frequently received illicit items from the hands of the lower-class people.

Doing business with these people was much more comfortable for him. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

After all, having fallen to this place, they were basically at a level where they could never turn their lives around. They lived just to get a bite to eat and then take a few hits. Even if they got hold of something good, it was hard to circulate it under the watchful eyes of other gangs. So in the end, they could only turn to him, exchanging items for a very low price.

In other words, trading with these people didn't require him to spend much money; he only needed to barter to get valuable items from them, then use his connections to resell them in higher markets.

Although such opportunities weren't common, one would always encounter pleasant surprises after staying long enough.

For example, those two thieves who came to the alley recently.

These two guys were said to have had'sticky fingers' while being hoodlums in another district. Combined with a criminal record and an addiction, they had drifted here to start a new life.

Moses naturally didn't mind such guys coming over, as long as they didn't eye his own pockets—and indeed, these two brothers had participated in several collective riots and robberies recently, bringing him back many good things. Moses had profited quite a bit and was now considering recommending them to the gangs above.

Bold and meticulous, they were two talents.

If he pushed them to the gangs and sponsored them to move up, maybe...

The more Moses thought about it, the more beautiful it seemed. Even his thick beard couldn't hide his smile. Especially when he saw the several items placed on the wooden counter nearby, Moses couldn't help but hum his song again, not even noticing someone slowly approaching.

"Psst, psst—"

It wasn't until a pair of eyes appeared through a hole in the drafty rags that Moses was startled.

"Fuck! If you have something to say, say it! Otherwise, get lost!"

Once he saw clearly that the owner of the eyes was a local homeless man, Moses finally clutched his heart and cursed irritably.

"Are outsiders coming? Is it the police? Or people from another side?"

The owner of the eyes shook his head.

"Dead meat, scavenger—"

Moses continued to curse, then impatiently shielded the camera in his arms and said to the homeless man, "Go, go, get far away. I'm in a good mood today and have finished work early. You'd better not bother me."

The person didn't dare stay longer, and then Moses saw the eyes silently disappear from the hole, followed by the sound of footsteps fading into the distance.

Tranquility seemed to return outside.

This would be a night belonging only to himself.

Moses's interrupted mood brightened again. He began humming his little tune once more, organizing the stolen goods and calculating the channels for fencing them.

At this moment, what Moses didn't notice was that the wind outside seemed to have stopped.

In the deep darkness, only the light bulb above his head was still emitting a bit of dim, warm yellow light.

—In the eyes of a predator, was this not a dazzling prey?

Others were prey to him.

But in the eyes of others, he was also prey.

By the time Moses realized it, it was already too late.

The outside suddenly became exceptionally quiet.

The rags at the entrance suddenly swayed, as if something had brushed past the door.

Moses stopped his work.

He looked toward the entrance, a look of confusion on his face.

The next moment, a pair of hands suddenly reached through the rags and grabbed him directly by the collar—

Moses's pupils constricted—

"Ah!!!"

A blood-curdling scream pierced the night sky!