Munitions Empire

What they were even more ignorant of was that howitzers had come to dominate warfare and the world was now in turmoil.

People here were still indulged in luxury and lived their lives in a drunken stupor. Everything outside the window seemed to have nothing to do with them; they only cared about their purses and how to undress women tonight.

The candles flickered, casting a sickly light as it reflected off the dazzling glass. Some men and women couldn't wait to misbehave in the corners, while others continued to cheer with their glasses raised towards the women who were dancing provocatively and screaming.

This was the largest ballroom within King City of the Leite Kingdom, and the place where men most wanted to be. However, only the truly powerful and wealthy merchants could enter here.

Because the man who ran this place had an incomparable background.

"Yesterday, some guy claiming to be from the Black Iron Company actually had the nerve to come here, talking about a partnership... I don't know how someone so deranged could exist in King City," said a well-dressed man, sitting down on the long sofa with his drink in hand.

On the other side of the sofa sat a man with a large mustache, wearing even more expensive attire and hugging a seductive-looking woman.

That man sneered and mockingly said to his men, "Are you talking about those fools from the countryside? They don't understand the rules here, nor do they know who really calls the shots! Hahahaha!"

"Hahahaha!" His remarks elicited a wave of mockery, and the influential men and women all sneered and laughed.

"You can't say it like that, Mr. Woodrow. They are very rich, buying up almost everything in the King City, and... they also sell many good items, and have set up an interesting casino outside the city," said a man, while reminding the gang leader sitting at the head, Mr. Woodrow, and pouring himself more red wine.

There were some things he didn't finish saying, because the other party was equally powerful and seemed to have a formidable background, so he only said half of what he meant.

"I already know what you're talking about! I've sent people to smash that casino! Those who don't follow the rules must be taught a lesson!" Woodrow said, shaking his drink with a dark expression, his tone unfriendly.

As he spoke, he angrily squeezed the woman in his arms. His actions clearly hurt her, but she didn't dare struggle, instead letting him do as he pleased with her body.

After all, the man holding her was Woodrow, the leader of the largest gang in the Leite Kingdom, the man who reigned over the kingdom's underworld at night.

Most of the kingdom's casinos and brothels were under his control, and his income could be described as enormous. Had it not been for the recent upheaval in Brunas, he would be making even more.

Moreover, he had countless underlings and controlled all the kingdom's underground business dealings, and even had business associations with many nobles, so everyone held a degree of fear towards him.

In some respects, Woodrow's word was more influential than that of Leite VII, and he acted even more unscrupulously.

At that moment, an enforcer came over, bent down, and with a lowered head reported to Woodrow, "Sir, a man who claims to be a manager from Silver Fox Company wants to meet with you."

Putting down his glass, Woodrow looked at the man and said, "Oh? They've come?"

"Yes! He came alone, and he's clean," the enforcer continued in a low voice.

Woodrow nodded slightly, then waved his hand to dismiss his subordinate, "Let him in, gentlemen... I might kill a man shortly! Hahahaha!"

"Hahahaha!" Upon hearing his words, the wealthy merchants and local power players in the room all laughed as if they had heard a hilarious joke.

Soon, a man in a Brunas-customized suit entered, looking like a spirited middle-aged man.

After entering, he nodded slightly and introduced himself to everyone present, "Hello, everyone. I am the manager of a small company from Brunas. I've heard that if you want to do business in King City, you must pay a visit here, so I've come with a generous gift."

"Doing business here isn't easy," said a fat man, hugging a woman and speaking up.

After he finished speaking, many people laughed with him, all looking down on this middle-aged man who had come all alone.

As the laughter gradually died down, Woodrow began to address the middle-aged man, "This is my turf... that's right. You're new here, and you need to learn some rules, but right now... I don't have the time to tell you about them! Kneel down, lick my shoes, then scram!

That way, you might still preserve your miserable life tonight, find a few wilted flowers in the meanest alley to brighten your night... But you must leave by dawn the next day, or I'll blast your brains out with a shotgun!"

Ha ha ha ha!" Laughter erupted from all directions once more, and the middle-aged man from Brunas even joined in with a few self-assured chuckles.

However, after everyone had their laugh, he continued to press, "Mr. Woodrow, are you really not going to take a look at the generous gift I've brought you?"

His persistence caused Woodrow's smile to fade as he glowered at the young man, coldly rebuking him, "You are the first one to dare speak to me this way! Kid! I'm not interested in any gifts from you, I'd much prefer to keep your right hand!"

The middle-aged man nodded slightly, a tinge of regret as he unbuttoned his suit and reached under his arm: "Very well... Silver Fox Company sends its regards, Mr. Woodrow."

"Hmm?" Woodrow's brow furrowed, and in that instant, an ominous feeling chilled him to the bone.

And the next second, under everyone's gaze, the middle-aged man pulled out a black, exquisitely crafted pistol and aimed it straight at Woodrow's forehead.

Without the slightest hesitation or delay, before the people around could react, the middle-aged man pulled the trigger.

"Bang!" The pistol gave a crisp report as a bullet neatly penetrated Woodrow's forehead. The bullet then shattered inside his skull, burst through the back of his brain, and sent brain matter and blood flying, spattering the sofa back behind Woodrow.

As if ensuring Woodrow was undeniably dead, the middle-aged man kept pulling the trigger, one gunshot after another reverberated through the entire ballroom, "Bang! Bang!"

Aside from the first shot that went through Woodrow's forehead, the second and the third bullets pierced his heart and lung, respectively. Even in the 21st century, such a triple-shot at the hospital's doorstep would leave no hope for survival.

The music in the hall came to an abrupt halt, leaving only chaos. Eventually, someone snapped to their senses, and the first scream rose, "Quick! Stop him! He's killed Mr. Woodrow!"

At that moment, Woodrow was slowly collapsing back onto the sofa, sitting back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling's ornate carvings.

"Damn it! Someone, kill him!" A portly businessman who had just sneered now shielded himself with a woman in front of him, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Along with the fat man's cries, the ballroom's doors were violently kicked open from the outside. A troop of burly men wielding lever-action rifles broke through two of Woodrow's men, smashing the stock of a rifle into the face of a man trying to flee.

"Bang! This is Silver Fox Company's gift to everyone!" With a wave of his hand, he blew the head off the fat businessman, and the middle-aged man sat down next to Woodrow's corpse, self-assuredly picking up a glass marked with lipstick, and turned to the beauty on the other side of the corpse, "Do you mind?"

The woman shook her head frantically, and the middle-aged man grinned, raising his glass and taking a sip, "From now on, this will be Silver Fox Company's property! Who's in favor? Who's opposed?"

"Bang!" One of Woodrow's men attempted resistance only to be shot down by a burly man and collapsed in the middle of the dance floor.

"Bang!" Another of Woodraw's men had just reached for his flintlock pistol at his waist when he was shot by a bald man wielding a Left-Wheel Handgun, struggling before slumping into a booth.

Finally, someone realized the opposition's authority greatly exceeded theirs, "They've got guns! And they're much more advanced than Shireck's flintlocks! Damn it!"

"Don't shoot! I'm just here to dance!" Then, pleas for mercy sounded, as some traders hiding behind sofas quickly declared their neutrality, shouting out their stance.

"Ah! Stop shooting!" Women too crouched down, clutching their heads, and screamed hysterically, "Help!"

"You've killed Mr. Woodrow! Have you gone mad? Do you know whom he belonged to? You'll soon know the consequences! You'll be hanged in the dungeons, your families will be killed, your daughters..." A man pinned on the floor tried to threaten desperately, seeking to scramble for a way out.

Unfortunately, his words were cut short as he was shot dead on the floor.

"Mr. Woodrow is the nephew of the Kingdom's Minister of Finance! You're in trouble now." The man who had been speaking with Woodrow glanced at the middle-aged man sitting by Woodrow's corpse, voicing a warning.

"No, we never court trouble; we're just here to do business." The middle-aged man held up his glass and drained the remaining wine in one gulp.