"So, the fact that the Duke Federation hasn't fallen is simply inconceivable..."
Through the vision of the Spirit Monster, Qin Muye saw that the young man collected the protection money, skimmed a bit off the top, and then handed it over to the Gang Leader. The Gang Leader took a large portion of the sum and gave it to the Patrol, who then collected protection money from various street factions before sending half of it upwards, creating a large pyramid structure.
And at the very tip of this pyramid, the Governor sat doing nothing and yet received the largest share.
"Wait, something's not quite right." Qin Muye categorized the data collected by the Spirit Monster and discovered something interesting.
It turned out that the hoodlum was skipping over some people and not charging them protection money.
This made no sense, bullies targeting the weak while avoiding the strong was the norm, but those people didn't look tough at all; they seemed more like ordinary folks.
Three days had flown by, and for Qin Muye, who was just scraping by at the bottom, life was calm, but not so for the upper echelons of Qingwu City.
Someone had challenged the Pan Turtle Martial Arts Hall, and the old master was severely injured, barely clinging to life.
This turned the once peaceful Qingwu City into a place where dark currents surged; even if the old master recovered, he would never return to his prime.
Now that such a force was no longer present to preside, the major powers saw it as a piece of fat meat.
The Governor wanted to eliminate it quickly to gain political capital, the Chief Patrol sought the martial hall's resources to strengthen himself, and the financial tycoons desired the heritage of the Pan Turtle Martial Arts as their foundation.
But everyone was civilized, not so uncouth as to be obvious about their intentions—at least they would wipe their mouths clean of blood to hide their sharp teeth.