Inheritance of Two Trillion

Chapter 2123: Chapter 1617: Swift Reclamation

Gaditya slum, a dim alleyway, with layer upon layer of graffiti on the walls, combining post-modern and violent elements. The exposed pipes are rusty, and the ground is potholed, full of dirty water. At the end of the alley, there’s an iron door, behind it lies an establishment of vice.

In front of the door, a dozen or so motorcycles are parked.

Some people with Mohawks, ear piercings, nose piercings, even lip piercings with metal rings, ”distinctive” characters smoking and discussing today’s strange news.

This is the so-called Mole Gang’s nest.

Over an hour ago, their Second-in-command, a man as big as a mountain, returned in panic. Rumor has it that luck turned against him, and he’s waiting for the Boss to come back, to take revenge with the gang.

It’s said the twenty or so people brought by the Second-in-command were schooled openly by just two individuals, fleeing in disgrace, which has become the biggest tale in Gaditya this year.

However, there are also rumors that Triangular Eyes Bass managed to snatch something valuable from the other party, salvaging some face, making it not so humiliating.

As they were chatting, a roaring engine noise burst forth, fast approaching.

Those discussing the matter at the entrance hurriedly dropped their cigarette butts, stood up solemnly, and looked towards the entrance.

It must be, the Boss is back!

The first to appear in everyone’s view was a Harley motorcycle adorned with a golden skull and silver spikes, its ferocious grandeur intimidating to behold.

With such a majestic ride, it could only belong to the Boss.

The motorcycle was ridden by a giant nearing two meters tall, indeed awe-inspiring.

Behind him, a dozen or so motorcycles followed closely, each uniquely individual, ridden by tall, burly men, many of whom went shirtless year-round just to show off iron-like muscles and fierce tattoos.

”The Boss received the news and is back!”

The people at the entrance quickly lined up to greet him, wary of being late and getting beaten.

The ferocious Harley halted, and from it stepped down the towering, imposing man, nearly two meters tall.

Yet after dismounting, he unexpectedly kneeled on one knee towards the approaching underlings.

The crowd was unsurprised, holding their breath, they looked to the back.

From the backseat of the massive Harley, appeared a 1.5-meter short, forty-year-old white man, sporting a small mustache, lazily stepping down on the giant’s knee.

No one dared to mock him, for he is the real Boss!

Also the elder brother of ”Meat Mountain” the Second-in-command—Weimon.

And ”Meat Mountain”’s real name is Daimon.

Their names, when directly transliterated into Chinese, become intriguingly amusing—”Weimon” and ”Daimon.” Coupled with their contrasting appearances, it leaves a memorable impression. One is a short, stout ”Weimon,” the other a tall, fat ”Daimon,” quite a complementary pair...

”I heard my brother was bullied, where is he, are his men all useless?” The short Weimon got off the bike and walked with the crowd towards the entrance, speaking as he moved.

No one dared to reply, except the one leading the way who reluctantly answered, ”Mr. Daimon and Bass are in the basement. The Old Locksmith is working on a box, snatched by Mr. Bass from those who bullied Mr. Daimon, it’s said to be quite difficult to open...”

”Take me there!” Weimon waved his hand.

The guide quickly sped up his pace.

The first floor hall of the Mole Gang’s den was packed with rebellious men and women, wantonly dancing to explosive music.

Drinking, playing cards, laughing and horsing around, it was a riotous scene.

And in the basement, was a garage, with the continuous roar of various machines echoing through.

However, in the corner of the basement was a warehouse, piled high with clutter, and when the door was shut it became quite peaceful.

At this moment, Daimon like a meat mountain, and Triangular Eyes Bass were both there, drinking and watching an old white man work on a box.

The old man was the rare technical talent of the gang—the Old Locksmith.

In truth, the Old Locksmith had drunk too much today; he was woken by the two only twenty minutes ago and was still bleary-eyed, his hands unsteady.

The briefcase Bass had stolen surprisingly had a metal-lined interior, with a cunning mechanical lock. Simply smashing it would only dent the surface, using tools to cut it risked damaging the contents, for a box this fine surely held valuables.

Cash, jewelry, luxury watches...

Daimon and Bass had speculated countless possibilities.

What was infuriating, was that the Old Locksmith had drunk too much today, his hands steady as much as a leaf, taking forever without opening it.

Making Daimon and Bass urge him multiple times, only to find the lock more unyielding, leaving them frustrated, suppressing their impatience as they waited.

”Boss, maybe splash a ladle of cold water on this old guy, wake him up a bit more.” Bass couldn’t hold himself back any longer, spoke to Daimon.

”Even if you do that, he wouldn’t be able to open it if he tried. Pour a ladle of cold water over him and if he falls ill, will you pay for his treatment?” Daimon shot him a glare, his voice gruff.

Though anxious, he was indeed; his heavy frame drenched in sweat.

”Also, stop calling me Boss, my brother will be back soon, he’s the Boss here.” Daimon snapped, glaring.

Bass blinked his triangular eyes, muttering, ”You’re both the Boss.”

Just then, footsteps approached.

Daimon, Bass quickly looked up.

The short Weimon entered, pushing the door with a group of brawny men.

”Brother!” Daimon enthusiastically shouted, attempting to rise but failed, his bulk trapping him in the chair.