Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week-Chapter 588 - 586: If Your Heart Isn’t Black, How Can You Be a Smuggler?

Los Angeles, eight o'clock in the evening.

Bangs of gunshots drift in from some direction in the slums, as it often does at night, and once again it's the day when LA's cops race their patrol cars through the streets.

The wide roads of the South District have an old look, Luola stays on the second floor of a similarly dated apartment.

Inside the third rental unit, a woman's dissatisfaction and complaints are echoing.

Luola feels quite disgusted, to be honest, if it wasn't for this woman having some looks, he would have already put on a cold face and rebuked her.

But his remaining patience had worn out after realizing the woman wasn't stopping.

"Greer."

Luola interrupts, his gaze sweeping over the plump and beautiful featured woman before him, suppressing his anger as he says, "I know you don't want to keep working as a lady, you want to act in movies, become a star.

But I hope you consider a very real question, without money, what will you use to pave your way?"

Upon hearing him, the woman shows a faint hint of displeasure and says, "Uncle, back then you told my mom that you'd bring me over to become a star, that's why I went abroad with you."

"Greer, without you earning money as a lady, how am I supposed to spend money to pave your way, make connections, and turn you into a star?"

Luola answers with a serious expression, lightly patting his niece's shoulder, he continues earnestly, "You shouldn't think there's anything bad about being a lady; the celebrities do the same things.

You're basically getting a headstart adapting to the life of a star, trust your uncle, I won't deceive you."

Greer falls silent.

Since she was twenty years old, she has been hearing these words from Luola, now six years have passed.

Every time she complains, she is fooled by his set of excuses.

Greer may have poor academic credentials, but she isn't a fool, she realizes her uncle is treating her as a cash cow, only focusing on earning money for him, not caring about her.

But right now, she cannot turn her back on her uncle.

It's all because of her youthful ignorance, thinking her uncle wouldn't deceive her.

Greer hands over all her earnings to him, helping to make connections.

She can't think of any excuse to retrieve them now; tearing apart that false family affection would lead to even greater despair.

As an illegal immigrant, there's no way for her to seek legal assistance.

Greer feels deeply troubled, she clearly embraced the American dream of being a star and came to Los Angeles.

Before coming, everything seemed so beautiful; after landing, the life she leads is starkly different from what her uncle had described earlier.

"Uncle, has my legal status still not been sorted all this time?"

"Greer, I'm working on it; there should be news next month. Don't think about it; I won't harm you, just stay here and receive clients peacefully.

I have other matters, I'll take my leave first."

Luola pats her on the shoulder.

Greer can only show a bitter smile and says, "Uncle, you go ahead."

Luola smiles faintly, leaves the room, and heads towards the stairway.

At the stairway, he stops, turns sideways, as a bulky white man slowly ascends.

The man's massive figure completely blocks the stairs, and seeing his slow movements, Luola shows no intention of rushing him.

Towards clients, he always displays a hospitable attitude, treating everyone equally, never harboring any disdain due to their obesity or age.

The man heads towards Greer's room.

Luola descends, shaking his head internally.

After muddling through these years, Greer still doesn't understand the difference between movies and reality.

In movies, gangs are depicted as being deeply loyal to their family blood ties, but in reality, everyone gets together for profit, and betraying family for profit is very normal.

The Italian mafia, which claims to value family the most, isn't immune to power struggles after the boss dies.

Luola has survived till now by trusting no one and selling anything; only money is the eternal value.

That's why he frequently convinces Mexican women online to come to Los Angeles, simultaneously earning smuggler fees and utilizing quality clientele to make gang money, boosting his own status.

Sometimes, Luola doesn't know what they are thinking, on one hand, they criticize Mexico for being terrible, while on the other, they trust these Mexicans who've abandoned Mexico, thinking he would cherish so-called hometown sentiment and sibling affection.

If such sentiments were useful, Luola wouldn't have left his hometown for the United States, nor would he ignore his parents' death without visiting them.

...

Leaving the rental unit, Luola drives his van to attend a banquet.

All these years, he exploits his compatriots for the gang, finally inching closer to his American dream.

Not lacking in women, having a career.

Last week, the gang leader died in a dream; after a clash, the second-in-command smoothly ascended, cleared out a batch of supporters of the leader's son, causing a vacancy in the top position.

Luola was originally a subordinate of the second-in-command's subordinate, logically, it wouldn't be his turn, but his leader also died in the dream.

With outstanding performance, he smoothly ascended to the seventh-in-command position.

Becoming a leader means his status, income, will be different from now.

To use a factory metaphor, it's like getting promoted from a small line leader to a team leader.

He drives to the gang leader's residence.

Situated between the North and South Districts, it's considered a half-step North District.

The leader's residence is a standalone two-story mansion with a garden, a lawn, and more than a dozen gang members guarding the periphery, vigilant against potential attacks.

Luola feels a wave of envy, wondering when he can also live like the leader, in such an imposing house, with a group of people guarding outside.

He rolls down the car window.

The person intercepting him recognizes him, smiling, "Luola, you've come."

"Hmm."

Luola nodded, a smile on his face, but didn't engage in the usual small talk.

He had been promoted to leader, now in a different league from these small-time bosses.

The small-time boss smiled broadly, but cursed Luola from head to toe in his mind.

What a piece of work.

Luola parked the car by the roadside and took out the gifts he had prepared from the trunk.

He's fit for the leader role not just because he's diligent, but because he's good at making backdoor deals.

Unlike those other muscle-heads who only know how to work hard for the gang, thinking that's the way to make it big.

A bull that works itself to death is just a dead bull.

Luola carried the gifts and entered the mansion.

"Luola, you came, but why bring anything?"

"It's just a little token for the boss."

Luola smiled broadly, handing the gift to the stout woman. He really couldn't understand why the boss valued her—maybe the rumor that they knew each other from the slums was true.

The matriarch raised an eyebrow, a little token you dared to give?

She opened the gift right in front of Luola, revealing gold jewelry inside, and immediately she smiled brightly, "You really are thoughtful, go, sit in the hall."

"Alright."

Luola nodded appreciatively, feeling exasperated by her vulgarity.

He entered the living room.

The decor here was exceptionally dazzling, from floor to ceiling, all gleaming in golden splendor.

To rich people, this spells nouveau riche.

But to those illiterate gang brutes, golden gleam means grandeur, attractiveness, representing wealth.

The second-in-command fought his way up with substantial financial backing.

"Luola, my good brother."

Boss Jimmy adorned in gold and silver, a distinct scar on his cheek. Even when he forced a smile, it couldn't hide his fierce aura.

Luola humbly said, "Brother Jimmy, wishing you to conquer Los Angeles soon."

"Haha, I like hearing that."

Jimmy laughed heartily, pulled Luola into a seat, released his hand, walked to the top seat, and raised his glass, "Los Angeles now is full of opportunities and gold everywhere.

Stick with me, and I guarantee within three years, everyone will have a mansion, fancy cars, and celebrity girlfriends.

Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

Luola and the other five leaders raised their glasses and drank together.

...

Los Angeles, 8:56 PM.

Jimmy drank his glass of wine, glanced at the six leaders present, and chuckled, "Alright, we've had our drinks, now it's time to enjoy the meat. I've prepared something great for all of you.

Six current students from the University of Arts Los Angeles, guaranteed to satisfy you."

At this, Luola immediately displayed a lecherous expression; although he wasn't lecherous, as a gang leader, if not fond of women, then power instead, wouldn't it make the boss wary?

Jimmy chuckled, "They're legitimate students, I secretly drugged them to get them lying there, remember to be proactive."

"Pick any of the six rooms upstairs."

"Thanks, boss."

Luola grinned widely and walked towards the second floor.

The other five didn't pretend to be gentlemen either, each grinning and heading upwards.

Jimmy watched them go up, not planning on going himself, sat down, and poured himself another glass.

The stout woman stomped in, flaunting her gold bracelet and necklace with both hands, "Look, this is what Luola gifted, isn't it beautiful?"

"You know I'm clueless about these, but it looks good when worn by you."

Jimmy casually replied.

The woman rolled her eyes at him, gazing at her ring and necklace, "Luola has big ambitions; when I opened the gift upfront, Tom and the others cast looks of disdain and disgust.

Only he remained unfazed."

"Right now, ambition and tact are good things; we need such people to help expand our reaches."

Jimmy swirled his wine glass; last week's strange incident caused many key figures in gangs across the United States to die, who should fill the power vacuums?

All regions wanted to offer up solutions.

He rushed to consolidate the gangs, hoping to present a perfect answer amidst the chaos of Los Angeles.

As for matters concerning the Different World and Monsters, those aren't things he should consider.

He just wanted money, to expand his territory, to watch his followers increase.

The woman pulled out a tablet from her bag, slid it open, revealing surveillance footage of the second floor.

The six leaders seemed to have decided which room each would enter, opening the doors.

The computer's time reached 9:00 PM in Los Angeles.

Tokyo time was 2:00 PM.

Aozawa returned home from the Monster Girl Cafe and placed his phone on the bedside table, readying to jump to Los Angeles.