137: Chapter 137 I'm in charge of the rules here

Early morning in Las Vegas was not much cooler than the night, especially when you were standing in an air-conditioning-free casino lobby, facing over a hundred burly men holding steel pipes and baseball bats.

The air was thick with a stench of stale alcohol mixed with cheap cologne.

"Severance pay?" Ava Rockefeller closed the folder in her hand, her high heels clicking crisply against the floor.

She was wearing a white professional suit today, looking completely out of place in this hall filled with the smell of smoke and sweat, like a Persian cat that had wandered into a pack of wolves.

"That's right, twenty million dollars." The man leading them was bald, with a severed cobra tattooed on his neck; everyone called him Vinnie the Rattlesnake.

He carried a grease-stained baseball bat on his shoulder, while his other hand held a lighter, burning the casino's personnel files one by one.

Vinnie grinned, revealing a mouthful of diamond-encrusted gold teeth, his eyes scanning Ava without restraint.

"Little lady, don't try to scare me with that labor law nonsense. This is Sin City; laws are just something written on paper to wipe your ass with.

The brothers have followed the previous boss for so many years; if there's no credit, there's at least hard work. You want us to get lost? Fine, pay up, and we'll disappear immediately. Otherwise..."

He snapped his fingers.

With a crack, the electrical box in the corner of the lobby sparked, and the entire hall was immediately plunged into darkness, leaving only the dim red light of the emergency lamps.

The ventilation system stopped, and the sweltering heat intensified instantly.

"Otherwise, not a single lightbulb in this casino will turn on." Vinnie threw the burning files onto the ground and crushed them with his foot.

"Utilities, sewage, even the delivery trucks—they're all in my brothers' hands. Miss Rockefeller, this is called a toll."

Ava's face turned cold, and she instinctively looked at Chen Mo behind her.

Chen Mo was leaning against a powerless slot machine, toying with a chip he had just picked up from the floor.

It was a one-dollar plastic chip, its edges worn white.

"Twenty million." Chen Mo repeated the number. With a flick of his thumb, the chip spun in the air with a humming sound before landing steadily back in his hand.

"Two hundred thousand per person? You lot guarding the floor have seen your value rise faster than oil."

"Are you that new bodyguard?" Vinnie pointed his baseball bat at Chen Mo's nose. "This isn't your place to speak. Get lost and let the boss pay up."

Chen Mo ignored him and just raised his hand to check his watch.

"Breakfast time is over." He casually inserted the chip into the slot machine's coin slot. "Since you don't want to leave, then none of you will be leaving."

Chen Mo looked up, his gaze passing over Vinnie's reflective head to look at the entrance of the lobby.

"Close the doors."

Rumble—

The heavy metal roller shutter slowly descended, the sound of gears engaging echoing through the empty hall, completely cutting off the sunlight from outside.

When the last ray of light disappeared, Vinnie's heart skipped a beat.

He felt as if he had been locked in an iron cage.

"What do you mean?" Vinnie gripped his baseball bat, shouting with a show of false bravado, "Trying to double-cross us? I still have people outside—"

Before he could finish, countless red laser dots suddenly lit up on the circular corridor of the second floor.

Those red dots were like some kind of bloodthirsty insects, densely crawling over the chests and foreheads of the hundred-plus thugs downstairs.

Footsteps.

Heavy, rhythmic, metallic footsteps echoed from the shadows in every direction.

Sixty fully armed Legacy Defense soldiers emerged from the darkness.

They wore black tactical vests and half-face masks, revealing only eyes that were completely devoid of emotion.

Unlike the steel pipes held by these thugs, this group held tactical batons made of polycarbonate and riot shields.

The difference in their aura was like a pack of wolves surrounding a group of yapping stray dogs.

"Teach them what rules mean." Chen Mo took a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping his fingers in a slow, deliberate manner.

"Don't kill them; the floor was just waxed, and it's hard to clean. Crippling them is fine."

"Yes."

The uniform response made the hall's glass vibrate.

In the next second, the black torrent rushed down.

This was a one-sided slaughter.

Those gang thugs who usually acted tough on the streets didn't even have a chance to swing their bats when facing this group of killing machines fresh from the battlefield.

The sound of breaking bones became the only melody in the hall.

There were no screams, because whenever someone opened their mouth to yell, a precise elbow strike would force them to swallow their voice and their teeth back into their stomach.

Chen Mo didn't move. He just stood there, watching Vinnie flailing his baseball bat like a headless fly, only to be sandwiched by two soldiers using their shields and sent flying.

Vinnie landed heavily at Chen Mo's feet. Just as he tried to struggle to his feet, a leather shoe stepped onto the back of his hand.

Not just stepping, but grinding.

"Argh!" Vinnie let out a pig-like howl. The excruciating pain, which hit right to the bone, caused his entire face to contort into a purplish-red color.

Chen Mo crouched down, looking into Vinnie's eyes, which were filled with fear and tears.

"You said earlier that the utilities were all in your hands?" Chen Mo's voice was very soft, yet it was more chilling than the sound of bones breaking earlier.

Vinnie shook his head desperately, his face covered in snot and tears. "No... no... Boss, I was wrong... It's all a misunderstanding..."

"A misunderstanding?" Chen Mo smiled and suddenly applied force with his foot.

Snap.

Vinnie's palm let out a teeth-gritting crunch as the five finger bones shattered like instant noodles.

"Ahhh—"

"Shh." Chen Mo held up an index finger to his lips. "I don't like noisy employees."

Vinnie bit his lip hard, stifling his screams, his whole body trembling uncontrollably like a sieve in the wind.

Chen Mo took a new contract from Ava and threw it onto Vinnie's cold-sweat-covered face.

"Janitor, eight hundred a month." Chen Mo patted Vinnie's cheek, the gesture like petting an obedient dog.

"You're responsible for cleaning the toilets, especially the men's room. Sign it, and I'll pretend that twenty million you mentioned earlier was just hot air.

If you don't sign, I'll bury you in the foundation of this casino. The building is being renovated, and we happen to be short on a few piles."

Vinnie grabbed the pen with his unbroken left hand and scribbled on the contract, trembling. Because he pressed so hard, the tip of the pen even tore through the paper.

"Very good." Chen Mo stood up and scanned the lobby.

The floor was covered with groaning wounded, with broken hands and feet everywhere.

The few who remained uninjured were already kneeling on the floor, their heads buried between their legs.

"From today on, this place is renamed Olympus." Chen Mo adjusted his collar. "I am Zeus. My word is the oracle. Do you understand?"

"Understood! Boss!"

The scattered, tearful responses followed.

Chen Mo nodded with satisfaction and turned to walk upstairs. "Ava, find some doctors to set their bones. Don't let them be truly crippled; cleaning toilets requires physical strength, too."