The Mafia Empire
Chapter 58: Chapter 58: A Rash Move That Ruined Any Possibility Of Reconciliation

As long as no one witnessed it, no evidence, no weapon, and no testimonies existed, it would be nearly impossible in this era for anyone to be convicted in court.

Once dressed, Julian walked outside with Graf. By the time they arrived, three defeated looking men were kneeling at the doorstep, their hands tied behind their backs, bound together with their feet.

Hearing footsteps, the three men lifted their heads, their expressions filled with confusion. Before they had been captured, they had made some guesses about who could be behind the unauthorized introduction of new goods into the market without so much as a courtesy call.

Perhaps it was a sinister old man with a hooked nose, someone who looked like he wanted to devour people with his gaze.

Maybe it was a sharp looking middle aged man, dressed as a high society elite, like many big bosses who made their fortunes from illegal activities.

Or maybe…

But the last thing they expected was a boy. A boy who looked no older than sixteen or seventeen. How could someone like him dare to oppose the three major powers? Where did he even get the bootleg liquor to sell? A flood of questions filled their minds, but as they glanced around, they couldn't help but shiver.

Surrounding them were about a dozen young men, all around the same age as the boy in front of them, barely more than kids. Some still had patches of dark fuzz on their upper lips.

"Who sent you?" Julian casually tossed a cigarette to Dave, acknowledging his successful mission. The most important thing was that Dave had shown he could think, and that was valuable. Whether in gangs, businesses, or any faction, having someone who could think was crucial. Thinkers were the real talent, and all ventures needed talented people.

Dave caught the cigarette with both hands, walked over to Julian's side, struck a match against his pants, and with a quick flare of white phosphorus, the match ignited. The sudden light briefly illuminated Julian's face, casting a simple but sharp look.

After a few puffs of smoke, Julian exhaled slowly.

The three captives exchanged glances but remained silent. They didn't believe these kids would actually harm them. Before the mission, their captain had told them their opponents were a bunch of greenhorns, inexperienced and not particularly dangerous. After seeing this "boss" and his main crew, they were even more convinced. These people didn't seem dangerous at all.

They probably hadn't even killed anyone. They might just make a few threats and then let them go.

There was another reason for their silence—they were too scared to talk.

Wood's reputation as a ruthless butcher in Ternell City's underworld was well known. Normally, he acted like a gentleman, offering polite encouragement when things didn't go as planned. But when someone truly angered him, he would snap, becoming violent, bloody, and savage.

Betrayal was one of the triggers that could send him into a rage.

Julian wasn't surprised by their silence.

He didn't have a reputation in this city. Unlike the established big shots, no one feared him yet. Slowly, Julian's right hand moved toward the dagger tucked into his waistband. He was prepared to teach them what fear really meant, using blood and pain as lessons.

But before he could act, Graf's muscle-bound brain clicked into gear again—just as it had when he killed the officer who had nearly discovered their bootleg operation. Back then, Julian had thought Graf seemed unusually sharp. Now, he seemed back to his normal self.

Graf pulled the handgun he had taken from the unconscious officer out of his pocket. "Use this. It's more interesting," he said.

Firearms in the Empire were strictly regulated. During its conquest of other kingdoms and races, the Imperial authorities had gathered a great deal of resentment, so they didn't want other groups gaining access to weapons. Hence, there were controls on firearms.

Of course, as with many laws, these regulations had become a mere formality, but in a small place like Ternell City, guns were still relatively rare.

Firstly, there was little need for them. There weren't any major fortunes or valuable resources here worth fighting over with firearms. Secondly, after a brief period of chaos following the war, a new order had been established, and people generally adhered to the rules, so guns weren't necessary.

When Graf produced the gun, the three kneeling men's fates were sealed. Julian wasn't going to let them live.

The reason? Graf and the others had attacked two police officers and stolen their service weapons.

Once word got out that the officers had lost their guns, these three captives, who had seen the handgun, would undoubtedly connect the dots. It wouldn't take much for them to report this to the police chief, and once that happened, Julian and his crew would have no choice but to abandon everything and flee.

Julian's lips twitched. A second ago, he hadn't intended to kill these men. All he wanted was to make money and rise to power, not to kill. He had hoped to join the game more peacefully, to become a player in the city's underworld. To do that, someone would have had to spread the word. But now, that option was gone.

Taking the gun from Graf, Julian quickly figured out how to use it based on Graf's brief explanation. He flipped off the safety, pushed the crystal energy chamber into the catalyst, and felt the gun's grip heat up—a sign it was charged and ready.

Julian walked up to the first captive, using the gun to lift the man's chin, pressing the barrel against his forehead. His voice was calm, almost like he was talking to a friend.

"Tell me something I want to hear, and you'll live. They'll die."

How much courage can one have when facing death?

It depends on the beliefs of the person staring death in the face. For those in some religious sects, death is not the end but a new beginning, perhaps even the start of happiness. For them, death is not something to fear, as long as it comes in the right way. They would feel fulfillment, not terror.