This is the underground parking.

Below the Bolago Club is a vast interconnected parking lot, somewhat similar to the underground market in the East District, just not as grand in scale.

If you don't want to wander around on the surface between the apartment area and the core business district, just find an entrance to go down, traverse to the corresponding area, and then take the elevator up.

Access to the area requires membership.

John followed Jilead a few steps and saw the alternating yellow and white electronic gates.

Six armed guards blocked the way.

They were different from the gang lackeys roaming the streets—dressed in standard black suits, wearing Argos Company's laser sunglasses, with a distinctive golden boutonniere at their chest.

John's prosthetic eye flashed with light.

Scanned a high-end loadout.

The muscles on these black guys' bodies were tougher than car belts.

[Feels like a reckless mix of materials.]

Sora provided a fair assessment.

The guards' prosthetic bodies were enough to deter ordinary troublemakers, and their numerical advantage was evident, but they couldn't compare to the meticulously coordinated and finely calibrated professional mercenaries.

Like the baseline of urban security.

Special Event Handling Action Team (SAT).

Their squad configuration didn't look as uniform, aside from the matching color scheme battle uniforms, each person's equipment, firearms, and even their body types varied.

Combat power and aesthetics don't blend well.

"At least it looks proper; if it really kicks off, trying to force through would end badly."

John replied softly.

The Black Gold Gang had invested heavily, and it wasn't just for show; regardless of the practicality of the prosthetic bodies, at least it upheld their facade and maintained a baseline, providing clients with visible security.

Jilead verified his identity.

When John went through the security, the detection equipment beeped, and the scanning grid projected by the surveillance cameras was a scarlet red.

But no one spoke up to stop him.

If anything happened, Jilead would take the hit.

The elevator ahead led to the Bolago Club, and the floor it reached was for members only.

They walked a little way and began waiting for the elevator.

Jilead put away the cold face he showed to the people below, reverting to the demeanor he used with friends.

"You're willing to work for Bone Shards, so why make things so tense? Give it a try, loosen up a bit, think of him as another Vito Russell; it's worth it to gain the camaraderie of a gang's speaker."

"..."

John stared at the decreasing floor numbers.

He bit his teeth, suppressing the urge to retort, turned around, and looked at the other party silently.

Jilead was also staring at him.

His gaze was steady. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Emotionless.

Jilead just directly called Mr. Vito by name, with no hint of respect in his tone.

It's not that John had any particular reverence for the "Godfather."

He just suddenly realized—the change occurring in his friend in front of him was bigger than he imagined.

The elevator carriage was about to arrive.

"Ha."

John chuckled.

"If I don't like Bone Shards, will there be a group of armed men when the elevator opens later?"

What he said even frightened himself.

Ding—

The elevator arrived.

The carriage inside was resplendent, and empty.

John breathed a sigh of relief and walked in first.

Jilead hesitated for a few seconds, then followed, full of bewilderment.

"Hey, wait...what the fuck, John! Did you actually think...I, I would arrange for people to kill you!?"

"I didn't say that."

"That's exactly what you meant! This is ridiculous, it's too hurtful, I always thought we were good friends!"

"Alright, I apologize."

"That's not something an apology can fix!"

Jilead clutched the belt with one hand, his expression toggling between seriousness and sadness.

"Ah..."

John raised his hands in surrender.

"It's not all my fault, you acted like a missionary for Bone Shards, not joking, that bastard seriously would do something like this!"

"You're the biggest bastard!"

Jilead was genuinely angry.

He believed that he had made significant achievements under Bone Shards and hoped John could join too; with his mercenary skills, his treatment wouldn't be any worse than his own.

That was it.

John placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, sincerely, but Bone Shards and I just don't see eye to eye; getting what we need is best. Why don't you get that?"

"The West District has changed."

Jilead's tone was growing weary.

"You're the one who doesn't get it."

He snapped his fingers, the elevator glass rippled like fish scales, then became transparent, revealing the bustling streetscapes of the West District beneath them.

The West District now relied entirely on Bone Shards.

Vito barely managed things.

The Black Gold Gang was at war!

Business, vehicles, manpower, equipment, civic relations all needed someone to make the decisions.

Bone Shards had never screwed it up once.

"Eastern People are trying to assassinate him."

"Not surprising."

"Yeah, if they manage to take out the opposing gang's speaker, the war situation would flip; within a week, the death betting numbers in Eden City would halve, so...he's survived five attempts in just these past few days."

Jilead counted on his fingers.

"Drugging through the ventilation, remote sniping, vehicle explosions, hacking methods, and even assassins infiltrating the casino office, just narrowly avoided—it."

"Eastern People really value Bone Shards."

"You don't understand the change Bone Shards brings."

Jilead scoffed at John—not understanding the real nature of gang life.

Fairness is a luxury.

The bottom of the gang is no different from cannon fodder.

Rookies have to risk their lives working for years, not dying from stray bullets, not dying from drugs, and avoiding being skewered by a cyber psycho passing through the alleyways.

And after that?

Life remained the same.

Vito Russell managed the West District for many years.

His management principles reshaped the streets' order but also capped the gang's growth.

Without expanding territory and business, the survival environment for the lower-level lackeys is hard to change.

Jilead spoke of his own experiences.

He was 14 when he got caught stealing a car, had his bones broken, and was nearly cemented and thrown into the sea, right when the first gang war broke out; he was sent in as cannon fodder into the battlefield.

He clashed with the Eastern People three times, each brutally bloody.

Jilead was lucky to survive and ended up soaking in the rain outside the low-rent apartments as a job.

"You wouldn't want to know how many years I stood under that cement canopy, John; do you know why I cherish you and Gino? Because no one else gave a damn about me."

The bottom of the gang is pathetic.

They're no different from sex workers, amounting to nothing in the eyes of big shots in luxury cars.

Jilead couldn't help but wonder:

What's the difference between a legend and a nobody?

It's opportunity!

Yet, ironically, opportunities are everywhere in Eden City.

The stories of little people becoming legends are told to death; every once in a while, a nova becomes the hot topic.

"But what about me?"

Jilead asked with his hands in his pockets.

They kept ascending in the elevator, the West District's street view growing distant.

"Most of the Black Gold Gang, they're treated like consumables, ground down bit by bit on the streets, with no damn future!"

The city is changing.

The enemy is expanding.

"Vito's way is obsolete, it'll get everyone killed, he can't win."

Bone Shards is right.

He brought about change.

No matter who you were associated with before, now it's all about work efficiency, gang interests, personal contribution!

War increased the death rate.

But vacancies were opening up; compensation was doubling, lives visibly changing.

The Black Gold Gang's businesses are rapidly expanding.

Membership numbers are at their highest in history.

The lowest level lackeys all have money to make, and their equipment has been completely upgraded.

This is the opportunity Jilead had been awaiting.

He seized it well, and gave himself an answer.