Lynchburg Industrial Zone, the former base of Carlo and his crew.
Since Carlo's death and the gang's disbandment, the place had gradually fallen into ruin.
Under the moonlight, Ben quietly arrived at the location.
At the factory's back door, a rusted iron gate—supposed to be locked—was slightly ajar.
Someone had clearly arrived before him. Passing through the darkened factory floor, Ben followed the faint beam of a flashlight coming from Carlo's old office.
Inside, in a corner shrouded in shadow, sat a vague figure.
A lazy voice called out:
"You came?"
The figure stepped out from the darkness. It was Johnny.
"What did you bring me here for?" Ben asked.
After being beaten up, he had discovered a note of invitation tucked into his pocket. Seeing the meeting location, he had already guessed it was Johnny, so he wasn't surprised.
"Drop the arrogant act, young master Gurian. You're a loser now too. Let's talk straight," Johnny said bluntly.
And straight he was. He told Ben everything that had happened since Carlo's death.
In Johnny's mind, Carlo had either been killed by Leo or by Herbert. He simply couldn't imagine a "master" killing his own "dog"—that, to him, was just wasteful.
After what had happened today, Johnny was convinced they shared a common enemy.
"So why did you ask me here? Just go along with Herbert and rob the money," Ben said.
"No. That won't work," Johnny shook his head. "Herbert never intended for me to walk away with that cash."
Ben, who knew his brother all too well, wasn't surprised. From the moment Johnny mentioned the robbery, Ben already knew he was a dead man walking.
"How do you know he wants you dead?" he asked, curious how someone as dumb as Johnny could see through Herbert.
Johnny's face darkened:
"I recruited five solid guys for the job. But today, Herbert shows up and adds five more to my team. Does he think I'm an idiot?
But that's not the real giveaway. The biggest red flag?
He said I was smart.
No one has ever said I was smart. Not once.
A man full of lies like that can't be trusted."
Johnny leaned in.
"So, Ben, how about it? Want to screw Herbert with me? We split the million and run."
Ben looked at Johnny and allowed a barely visible smile to form.
One smile for Herbert being seen through by this moron.
Another for Johnny being dumb enough to try striking a deal with a tiger.
Ben had no intention of splitting anything. If something existed and belonged to someone else, he would take it. If it didn't exist, he'd find a way to create and seize it.
He reached out his hand and smiled warmly:
"Why not? Happy to work together."
Lynchburg Police Station—or rather, what was now the Lynchburg Veterans Association.
To show the town's veterans that the mayor fully supported the association, Patrick had fast-tracked the association's approval through city hall at lightning speed.
He'd also kicked out the old police staff, including Jonathan, relocating them to a small annex behind city hall.
Leo stood watching Patrick, who was now giving an impassioned speech on stage, and remarked to Desmond:
"Look at that—that's a true American politician. Never mind competence, what really matters is showmanship and silver-tongued speeches."
Desmond frowned in confusion:
"If everyone's like that, how will our country ever be alright?"
Leo wasn't interested in answering that question. Instead, he turned to Father Lesterwen:
"I privately agreed to let Patrick serve as honorary chairman. I hope you're not upset."
The old priest smiled, gesturing toward Patrick.
"I'm old. He's seasoned. The future is yours, my child. I don't mind."
Leo felt touched. He could tell that Father Lesterwen was truly invested in supporting him and Desmond.
When Patrick's speech ended, the priest gave Leo a light pat on the shoulder:
"Your turn, child. That's your stage."
"Thank you, Father."
With heartfelt sincerity, Leo walked up to the podium.
Looking out over the street in front of the Veterans Association, he saw it packed with young former soldiers, all hoping to join.
Though called "veterans," most were still very young, their faces marked more by inexperience than age.
The war had dulled their fear of death, but not sharpened their survival skills in society. Their eyes, fixed on Leo, were filled with both hope and confusion.
"You all probably know me—as that troublemaker kid who used to cause chaos around town. So I won't bore you with a long speech.
Let's talk about something real.
First, let's thank Chairman Desmond. The $18,000 raised from his speech at Lynchburg University has already been fully withdrawn—it's sitting right on the table in front of us.
The Association keeps its promises.
All veterans who attended that fundraising banquet can pick up their money right after this!"
"Awesome!"
"Thank you, Desmond!"
"A man truly blessed by God!"
Leo raised his hand to quiet the cheers and continued:
"Good news isn't over yet, brothers. Thanks to our honorary chairman, Mr. Patrick...
To strengthen Lynchburg's law enforcement, the police department is hiring over twenty new officers.
Requirements: middle school education or above.
If you're interested, submit your résumé to the Association.
We'll help Sheriff Jonathan with the selection process."
"Cool!"
"Hell yeah!"
More cheers and whistles erupted. Patrick raised both arms, basking in the praise.
Leo smiled and pressed on.
"And there's more, brothers!
The Seventh-day Adventist Church and Lynchburg University are looking for fifty part-time staff.
This one's a bit stricter—you'll need a high school diploma, since it's a school after all.
Same application process."
There were some cheers—and some grumbling.
"Hey, Leo! What about us who didn't even finish elementary school?"
"Don't worry, brothers. I'm not done yet."
Leo pulled out another page of notes and continued:
"The former Brown Sawmill will be rebranded as Lynchburg Resort Hotel, operated by the newly founded Lynchburg Resort Company.
This new company will prioritize hiring from within the Association.
No education requirements!"
"But how many jobs could a hotel even offer?
And besides, hotel jobs are mostly for women, aren't they?"
Some of the veterans weren't convinced.
Leo grinned.
"The Lynchburg Resort Hotel will contract Lynchburg Construction Company for the building project.
And let me tell you—it's a huge project.
That company is severely understaffed.
If you've ever built a trench, handled demolitions, or set up a floating bridge—
you qualify.
Send in your résumé."
"Hell yeah! Now that's something we can do!"
The veterans' excitement was palpable.
Then, a loud voice cut through the crowd:
"Lynchburg Construction Company? Never heard of it.
Isn't Lynchburg only home to Jones Realty and Fox Realty?
Sounds like some new outfit that might not even have any real contracts.
Watch yourselves, folks—don't get scammed. You might not even get paid."
Leo narrowed his eyes at the all-too-familiar voice.
He focused—and sure enough, it was the short, chubby figure of Fox.