America: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 32 Blood Splatters on the Street

Allen Zhang took a glance at the broken baseball bat, his heart skipped a beat.

What quality!!

US dollars!! My 6 US dollars!!

No!!! Fxxk Off!!!

"Hey! Hey!! Stop!!"

The Black people nearby, seeing the furious Allen Zhang so fierce and the veins on his arms bulging, on the verge of going berserk, were scared out of their wits.

Wanted to start reasoning with someone.

But Allen Zhang, who was in a rage, was beyond reasoning!

With one straight kick, he sent Old Black flying at least three meters away, his back slamming hard against the garbage bin and lying on the ground clutching his chest, unable to make a sound.

His throat emitted a weak hissing sound, like a leaky bellows.

He gaped with pain all over, feeling uncomfortable everywhere, looking like he was about to die.

The two Old Blacks next to him were petrified.

"Give me my friend’s money back! And don’t you ever come to this street again; it’s mine now!! If I see you again, I’ll crush your balls and cut them off to feed to your mother. You understand?"

Allen Zhang grabbed Old Black by the collar, not treating him gently at all, delivering a couple of hefty slaps, smacking wildly, "I’m asking you, do you understand?! Understand, understand, understand... do you understand?"

Old Black’s skin turned from black to red, blood flowing from his nose, and started bleeding from his mouth too. freёwebnoѵel.com

Half of his face swelled up visibly fast like a pig’s head; terrified, seeing stars, he wet his pants right there. As he opened his mouth, two broken teeth mixed with blood spattered out.

He immediately knelt on the ground, raising his hands high, "ok! ok!!"

Kneeling on the ground, he frantically searched through his pockets, nervously laying the money on the ground: steel coins of 5, 10, 25 cents, crumpled and wrinkled 1-dollar and 5-dollar paper currency.

He didn’t even spare his companion’s pockets, scrabbled out a considerable sum of money.

Altogether, there was at least 100 US dollars.

Very good, the little Black Devils have exploded with gold coins.

Old Black with one crippled leg also stopped howling, for he had begun to have convulsions and foam at the mouth, sweating all over and emitting unconscious moans of pain.

Allen Zhang immediately started to render humanitarian aid.

Mounting up, he hit the big face plate with a few hefty slaps, banging and smacking wildly.

"Fxxk you! Black Devil! Wake up! It’s time to get up and work, picking cotton!!"

Hearing that ancient call engraved in their genes, Old Black opened his eyes vacantly, gradually regaining consciousness, his face swollen on one side.

Allen Zhang grabbed Kobe’s collar, also delivering a few hefty slaps, and the other slowly came to, mouth drooling, unable to speak anymore.

Looks like the jawbone is broken. No problem, it’ll heal after some rest.

Allen Zhang, fearing that he might kill him, didn’t dare to exert too much force even with gloves on.

"Ok, they’re fine now; you guys get the hell out of my turf!"

Allen Zhang, while marveling at his own medical prowess as the reincarnation of Hua Tuo, scolded and spat at the few Old Blacks.

"Remember my name. I’m Hanberger Juan Jin. Tell the others this place is under my watch, and it’s the territory of Lori Louis 19. Other scavengers better not barge into my turf for no reason!! Otherwise, I’ll make them bleed on the streets!!"

The few Old Blacks nodded and agreed, not daring to breathe too heavily, steeling themselves, supporting their companion and heading outside.

As they passed by Allen Zhang, their legs were wobbling, fearing he might randomly throw another punch!

After all, this guy really knows how to throw a punch.

A single face-off was all it took, and several Black guys had their knees shattered for good, unlikely to walk on their legs for the rest of their lives.

One had his jaw smashed, his front teeth broken, and his face ruined.

Another had his sternum somewhat collapsed, several bones broken, and it was unclear if there were internal injuries; even if he recovered, his cardiopulmonary function would definitely be impacted.

Call the cops?

When the police arrive, they’d probably arrest them first, like delivering themselves on a platter.

After all, they certainly hadn’t been free of misdeeds on any day, with Zero-Dollar Purchase being just a trifling matter; they’d often even commit rape.

Such is life on the streets.

You bully others, you’ve got to be ready to get bullied yourself; getting beaten or wounded to death is all too common.

The one with the biggest fist makes the rules.

The white old man watched the scene in shock, still immersed in the shock without snapping out of it, feeling like he was in a dream.

Allen Zhang picked up the money, counted it carefully, and found there was a total of 135 US dollars. He also asked, "How much did they rob from you?"

"50 dollars... no, just 15 dollars." The old man looked eagerly at the large sum of money, his habit of lying almost taking over, but he quickly shivered and answered truthfully.

Allen Zhang withdrew his intimidating gaze and smiled, "Good, consider this extra 5 dollars a reward for your honesty."

He took out some steel coins and paper currency, rounded up to 20 dollars, and handed them over. The remaining large-denomination bills were pocketed.

"What’s your name?"

"Leo. Sir." The homeless man Leo replied honestly: "Thank you for helping me, without your assistance, it’s hard to imagine what kind of humiliation I would have faced! Just recently, a friend of mine died from a torn rectum."

"No need for thanks, Leo. Do you often hang around this street?" Allen Zhang asked.

"I’m just passing through, trying to collect cans here to make some money. I don’t have a stable place to stay usually because I don’t dare to linger in one place for too long. The shelter is where I go most often. I’m getting on in years, wandering the streets alone, and I’m not part of any group," Leo replied.

"Alright, then you must know quite a few lone Scavengers around here, right?" Allen Zhang continued.

"I do know many people," Leo nodded, "but most of them live hard lives and often get bullied."

"How much money can you make at most by collecting cans? Can you ensure your own livelihood?" Allen Zhang asked.

"How could that be possible? I can only barely get by on relief money and shopping vouchers. If it were not for the vouchers being a real-name system card that almost everyone has, they would likely be stolen or fraudulently used by others too. By the second half of the month, I have no idea how to survive."

Leo chuckled bitterly: "I can only earn 15-20 dollars a day from collecting cans; the most I’ve ever made was 40 dollars, and that was when I was lucky. On rainy days when others refuse to collect cans, I risk getting sick to collect more, but sometimes they still get stolen from me. I’ve been living in poverty for 12 years now; just yesterday I turned 45."

"..."

You seem to be in quite a hurry.

With hair graying and beard all scruffy, teeth missing, you’re almost like Old Karl in his seventies; if you said your lower body is already buried in the ground, I’d believe you.

Allen Zhang didn’t bother to mock the man’s appearance; just surviving up to now was remarkable enough.

He pondered: "Very well, Leo, you’re honest, and I understand life isn’t easy for you right now. This street now belongs to me, but I currently lack sufficient manpower to tap into it."

"Here’s the deal - I’ll allow you to continue collecting cans on this street in the future, and you can even call others you know to join your team. As long as you don’t cause trouble, I can assure you won’t be harassed or bullied."

Before Leo could show his surprise, Allen Zhang laid out his conditions: "But the cans you collect on this street need to be stockpiled at Camp 19 under the bridge for collective custody and selling. I can guarantee they won’t be stolen, and I will require a commission and management fee from each of you; for every 10 dollars, I’ll take 2 dollars, for every 100 dollars, 20 dollars, and for 200 dollars, 40 dollars."

"It’s only fair, sir!" Leo immediately responded after hearing this: "As long as you can really ensure that we can make 100 or even 200 dollars!"

His first thought was if it was truly possible to make that much money.

Secondly, the commission felt no different from regular taxes.

Compared to federal tax, state tax, personal income tax, and all that complicated stuff, it was too simple and straightforward. And compared with the usual gang protection money and dues, it was much lower.