106: Chapter 106 No, do I look like an easy target?
Fu Haoran stared at the quest notification on his system panel; he didn't even flinch, not taking it much to heart.
This book was first released on Taiwan Novel Network. Accompanying you in your leisure time, super thoughtful, providing you with an error-free and non-disordered reading experience.
[Calamity of the Blood Moon: A full-scale conflict is about to break out between the Slaanesh Demon Kin and the Khorne Demon Kin. Optional factions for intervention: Slaanesh / Khorne / Humanity]
Fu Haoran chose Humanity without the slightest hesitation; it was a question that required almost no thought.
However, after choosing his faction, Fu Haoran didn't intend to get involved just yet.
The two Chaos Demons, Slaanesh and Khorne, were natural enemies; they might just end up strangling each other.
Even in the worst-case scenario, what if these two groups temporarily joined forces?
In this past year or so, Fu Haoran considered himself a veteran of many hard-fought battles.
In terms of sheer numbers, could they compare to the overwhelming Genestealer Cult?
In terms of top-tier martial power, could they be stronger than Lelith Hesperax of the Dark Eldar?
In terms of feeling frustrated and powerless, it couldn't be worse than the time he got lost during a boarding action and almost killed himself... ahem, that piece of dark history should be ignored.
According to the system's detailed description, those coming this time were all low-level Chaos Kin, merely manifesting through a Warp rift.
Fu Haoran felt that as long as the Greater Daemons of Slaanesh or Khorne didn't personally take the field, he wouldn't even care about such a small scene.
If a Greater Daemon really did show up, then he'd just have to solve everything with nuclear peace—simple and worry-free.
...
A motorcade led by a Cadillac Presidential State Car entered the super factory.
The leading President at the head was polished to a shine, exuding an imposing aura.
The car door opened, and a pale old man with white hair stepped out.
He was dressed in a bespoke black suit, leaning on a carved cane; his pace was steady and his gaze indifferent, like a lord inspecting his domain.
This person was none other than the old-money North American aristocrat, Victor.
No one knew his true age; they only knew that the Victor Family had occupied the West for a century, being the largest landowners in Montana, with industries that were wealthy enough to rival nations.
They owned a biological products company that monopolized blood plasma collection across America, forcing the poor to rely on his whims just to sell their blood.
They also possessed several large hospitals and pharmaceutical companies.
Victor, accompanied by two bodyguards, ignored the assistant at the door and walked straight into Fu Haoran's office.
He glanced at the office furnishings with a hint of disdain, then sat down of his own accord, took a document from his subordinate, and pushed it across the desk.
"The first item is the water fee." Victor tapped his cane on the floor, his voice icy. "Ninety percent of the groundwater rights around Yellowstone are the permanent private property of my Victor Family, registered with the state government. Your factory is downstream; if you use water, you have to use my pipes. It's 100 USD per ton, settled monthly."
"The second item is the road toll."
"This section of Highway 395 is a private road bought out by my family a hundred years ago. For your factory's freight trucks to enter and exit, it's 2,000 USD per trip—not a cent less."
"Finally, the public security fee. The Yellowstone County government has outsourced the regional security to my security company."
"This project is charged per head: 5,000 USD per person per month."
Fu Haoran took the document, scanned it quickly, and was almost amused.
Setting aside how ridiculous the first two charging standards were, just looking at the third one...
"Mr. Victor, according to this document, if the factory happens to keep a puppy, do we have to pay for it too?" Fu Haoran asked.
Victor nodded noncommittally and said, "You can also choose not to pay, as long as you can bear the consequences."
After hearing this, Fu Haoran was stunned for a second, then let out a low chuckle that grew more intense.
When he was being extorted or robbed in the Hive City of Warhammer, the other party would at least find a high-sounding excuse. This old geezer was something else, coming to rob him with unequal terms thought up with his backside?
Did he think he was the Empress Dowager?!
Or did he think this was a hundred years ago?
"You're saying I have to give you money to drink water, money to go out, and even money for the security guards in my factory?"
Victor remained expressionless. "Yes. Those are the rules."
Fu Haoran laughed even harder.
He had seen extortion before, but never one so self-righteously blatant.
"Fine, I understand." He waved his hand. "Go back and wait for the notification."
Victor frowned. "Wait for what notification?"
"Wait for me to decide whether to beat the crap out of all of you or hang you all from the lampposts," Fu Haoran said without looking up.
Victor's face instantly darkened, his eyes sinister. "You will regret those words. In Montana, those who break my rules don't live long."
He didn't linger further, turning and leaving.
Fu Haoran didn't even lift his head.
He had heard too many people in the Warhammer Hive City say they would make him regret it; in the end, it was always Fu Haoran who made them regret it.
...
Less than two hours after Victor left, the deafening roar of motorcycle engines came from outside the factory, making the glass tremble.
Over a hundred Harley motorcycles charged recklessly, blocking the factory gate. The people on them were all in leather jackets with tattoos and fierce expressions—the notorious local outlaws and Bikers.
On the surface, they were street Bikers, but secretly they smuggled arms, trafficked people, and collected protection money.
The leader, Lucian, had a scar running across his cheek and a burly build.
Lucian puffed on a cigar and swaggered in with a few subordinates.
"Newcomer, time to pay the protection fee." Lucian exhaled smoke. "25 million a year, or else I'll make it impossible for your factory to stay open!"
"Get lost."
Fu Haoran's brow furrowed; he was completely annoyed.
Did the idiots in America all think he was a soft persimmon? One after another coming to extort him?
Or did they think he had a good temper?
"Get out!"
Lucian didn't care; most people were angry when they heard his extortion demands.
As long as he ramped up the pressure, the matter would mostly be resolved.
Lucian gestured with his head, and the two-meter-tall Black giant behind him roared and charged forward, his fist the size of a cattail leaf fan aimed straight for Fu Haoran's forehead.
Two security guards stepped up to block him, but the giant swung his arms and sent them flying; they couldn't get up for a long time.
Seeing this, the other security guards all made their move.
However, Fu Haoran remained unmoved, standing still where he was.
"Scared stiff?"
The giant saw this and bared a cruel smile. He had already planned to humiliate this pretty boy and leave him with only half a breath.
But in the next second...
Zzzzt~
The giant's whole body convulsed, sparks of electricity jumping across him.
A security guard wearing Hive City Judicial Police gear was using a Power Maul to inject the giant with the magic of "love."
By the time Lucian and the others reacted, the giant had already collapsed on the ground, foaming at the mouth.
And this was with the Power Maul set to its lowest setting.
Lucian's hundred-plus subordinates instantly exploded into a frenzy; some put on brass knuckles, while others began stripping off their shirts.
However, someone was faster than them.
Screech! Screech!! Screech!
Tall armored vehicles rushed over, and the machine gunners on top immediately chambered their rounds.
Lucian immediately spread his arms, stopping his subordinates behind him.
He knew that today could only end here.
But he still didn't care much, just staring fixedly at Fu Haoran's back. He raised his hand and made a sharp throat-slitting gesture across his neck, then waved for his subordinates to leave, cursing as they went.
After the motorcycle gang left the factory, one subordinate couldn't help but speak up: "Boss, let's gather our men now and level his factory!"
Lucian spat out the cigarette butt, his eyes sinister. "What's the rush? Let's cause some trouble for Victor first. Let that old geezer know that we're back!"
...
That night, at a ranch on the edge of Yellowstone Town.
Old Dalton was awakened by the urgent ringing of the telephone.
"Boss, something's happened! Over three hundred cattle are dead in the pens!"
"What?!" Old Dalton didn't dare delay. He immediately threw on a coat and drove his Raptor pickup truck toward the farm.
Inside the ranch, over a hundred beef cattle lay on the ground. Their necks had been bitten through, blood soaked the grass, and the wounds were huge and hideous—definitely not the work of ordinary wild animals.
The nearby fence was smashed, and there were huge claw prints on the ground, each over an inch deep.
Old Dalton's hands were shaking with rage.
He would never believe there was a wolf this large; it must be someone disguised as a wolf to avoid investigation!
"This cannot be ignored!" Old Dalton pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
...
Just as dawn broke, Victor arrived with his men.
He crouched by a carcass, and with just one look, his expression darkened.
"What's going on?!" Old Dalton rushed up, his eyes red. "We pay so much protection money every year, and now the cattle are dead. You have to give us an explanation!"
Victor stood up and said coldly, "I will handle it."
"Handle it?" Old Dalton was furious. "How? 300 died in one night, and that's not even counting the other families!"
"Do you have any idea how much a single breeding bull is worth!"
"Don't tell me in the end that they were killed by a pack of beasts!"
"Don't try to fool me with that rotten excuse from decades ago!"
These words completely enraged Victor.
His figure blurred, moving so fast he left afterimages. He instantly reached Old Dalton, grabbed him by the throat with one hand, and with a sudden burst of strength, lifted him entirely off the ground.
Old Dalton's feet dangled in the air, his face turning purple. He desperately clawed at Victor's hand but couldn't move it at all.
"Dad!"
"Dad!" Suria screamed and rushed forward, pounding desperately on Victor's arm. "Let him go! Let go of my father!"
Victor looked down at the blonde, blue-eyed girl and suddenly froze.
Those eyes, filled with fear and anger, were exactly like his daughter's when she died years ago.
He loosened his grip.
Old Dalton fell to the ground, clutching his throat and coughing violently.
Suria supported him, her eyes full of tears.
He suppressed the turmoil in his heart, his face becoming cold once more, his tone carrying a bone-chilling threat: "Old man, the contract is to keep you alive, not to protect your livestock."
"Dare to say one more word, and the next neck to be snapped will be yours."
With that, Victor turned and left, his eyes sinister to the extreme. Lucian's provocation had touched his bottom line.
...
The motorcade left the ranch and Victor headed straight for a remote farm.
Several farming families lived here. This year's harvest had been extremely poor, and they truly couldn't afford the rent and security fees. The entire families were kneeling on the ground, kowtowing and begging incessantly.
"Lord Victor, please give us a few more days! we really can't produce the money!"
Victor stepped forward slowly, looking down from above, his tone terrifyingly flat: "With me, there are no extensions. Everyone is born with a value, already clearly priced. If you have no money, use your life to pay."
Victor stepped forward slowly, looking down from above, his tone terrifyingly flat: "With me, there are no extensions. Everyone is born with a value, already clearly priced. If you have no money, use your life to pay."
A cold light flashed, directly slitting the throat of the leading farmer.
Blood sprayed out; Victor dipped his fingertip in the blood and licked it lightly.
In the next second, sharp fangs grew from his mouth, and the whites of his eyes disappeared completely, leaving only pitch black, revealing his true nature as a vampire.
He then spat out the blood in his mouth with a face full of disgust: "Trash. The blood is full of veterinary drugs and low-grade enhancers. It's heavily contaminated; it can't even be used for the lowest-grade plasma. Worthless."
The bodyguards behind him immediately stepped forward and executed the remaining people with clean, efficient movements.
The corpses were quickly dragged into the processing factory behind them. The workers, well-practiced, first drained all the blood and sent it to the plasma workshop.
Then they cut them open, harvested all the valuable internal organs, and sent them to the pharmaceutical plant in cold storage.
Finally, even the bones were ground into powder and sold to feed mills, truly ensuring not a single strand of hair was wasted.
There was no mercy; in Victor's eyes, these people who couldn't pay were just walking commodities.
Back in the car, Victor spoke coldly: "Tell the men below to find Lucian's hideout within three days, and then give them a little greeting gift."
"Yes."
Victor closed his eyes again, the rhythm of his fingers tapping his cane growing faster and faster.
He knew that a long-absent major battle was about to break out again.
But this time, where should the battlefield be chosen?
Suddenly, Victor thought of that Asian man who dared to offend him during the day.
"Perfect. Let's choose his factory as the battlefield."