King Of War: Starting with Arms Dealer
Chapter 860 - 772 Entertainment

Boss Joe holed up on the farm for three days...

During that time, he went to see Big Mouth Tang's speech and helped Lesler from the FBI to cordon off the surrounding area, finally giving the FBI agent a sigh of relief.

Then he sent his lawyer Valkyrie with a contract to Washington, but kept stalling in the hotel, refusing to sign it officially.

A guy claiming to be from the Pentagon called him numerous times, but he just wouldn't budge.

Until the fourth day, when thousands of people had gathered at the entrance of the P·B farm, 'those people' began to make their move.

First, an FBI spokesperson explained the 'reckless' action that night at P·B as an official operation authorized by the Department of Homeland Security and in collaboration with the Secret Service to protect Big Mouth Tang's safety.

So while regrettable, it was all within reasonable bounds!

This narrative by the FBI was intended to divert the media's attention away from pestering P·B and to get those rioting brothers to head home quick.

But to everyone's surprise, this justification only fueled further discontent among the black community, with many leaders of 'Black Lives Matter' stepping forward for interviews, demanding severe punishment for P·B.

If they didn't get what they wanted, their protests would not stop.

The New Jersey State Government was blocked, the New Jersey Police Headquarters was blocked, and the county police offices were surrounded; several business districts faced severe riots.

The thing with black dudes is that, once they gather in numbers, 80% of the time it leads to riots, from minor acts like robbing convenience stores of cigarette packs to more serious looting and smashing along the streets.

And this unrest began to spread towards the direction of the Washington White House, leaving that beloved brother of the entire black community at his wit's end.

The power game here is quite intriguing...

If that night's operation had only saved a few women, even if authorized, P·B would have been doomed.

In America, judicial flexibility is greater than anyone could imagine; sometimes 'public opinion' can really convict a company.

But that night, Boss Joe and his team rescued a dozen kidnapped children...

Apart from six children used to coerce women into becoming suicide bombers, the other kids were the children of New Jersey's public facilities managers, even government officials.

Stadium security, parking lot managers, county police, government officials, fast food truck owners...

Through the parents of those children, a clear route of a terrorist attack could be drawn.

Just imagine if a suicide bomber entered the crowd, consider the horrifying aftermath of shaped charges exploding among people, those obstructing 'law enforcement' would become unpopular.

Most importantly, P·B ensured Big Mouth Tang's safety.

No matter how much Big Mouth Tang is disliked by the media now, he represents a class.

So irrespective of whether those at the top like it or not, they have to admit that although P·B's method was extreme, it effectively worked very well.

Compared to the consequences of a terrorist attack, a bit of 'pain' seems almost acceptable.

The only group who can't accept this is the black community, thus the stalemate developed.

These guys, realizing simple protests wouldn't gain enough support, began resorting to violence, trying to force concessions by inflicting damage.

Politicians and activists, either poorly informed or deliberately playing up the situation for attention, also stepped forward.

'Black Lives Matter' is not just about political correctness; considering America's electoral system, the number of black people has reached a point where they can't be ignored anymore, and so this tussle began to escalate...

And right now, P·B and Boss Hu Lang's names are being brought up again and again!

Joe Ga wasn't concerned about this at all; he was just visiting the front gate of the farm each day to watch a bunch of Russians and black dudes cursing each other out, occasionally trying to outdo one another.

Honestly speaking, black dudes are pretty good at fighting, but it's a pity they lack spirit, often ganging up three or five against one, yet still getting intimidated and driven off by the ferocity of the Russians.

On the fourth day, after having breakfast, Joe Ga went to the front gate with Dorian.

He went up to the reception center's second floor, looking at the dense crowd of black dudes near the front gate, Joe Ga was a bit surprised and amused as he spoke to Dorian, "What on earth have you guys been doing these past few days? Those people seem like they're hopped up on something..."

Dorian struck a boxing pose, then shimmied his thick neck, smiling as he said, "Beating them, we have been taking turns beating them up..."

Laughing, Dorian turned to Joe Ga and said, "Boss, wanna give it a try?

If you can last more than 5 minutes outside, you can win 5000 bucks. Knock one down and you get another 1000…"

Joe Ga was stunned by this ridiculously cheap 'sport', he curiously looked at Dorian and asked, "How long did you last?"

Dorian spread his hands and said, "I'm the bank, I'm providing the prize money.

Just 500 bucks to enter and you can try for a ten to one payout, isn't that a good deal?"

Joe Ga glanced at those frenzied black people; those at the front were clearly handpicked, mostly over 1.8 meters tall.

But although they looked fierce, aside from continuous cursing, they didn't do anything too outrageous.

Now with automatic rifles mounted on both sides of the farm gate, even if loaded only with rubber bullets, that was beyond what these black dudes could handle.

Turning to the 'betting genius' Dorian, Joe Ga chuckled and said, "So, did you win or lose?"

Upon hearing this, Dorian replied with a smug look, "Won quite a bit, but our guys didn't come out too shabby either. Maybe five minutes was just too long."

As Dorian spoke, the voice of 'Crow' suddenly came from downstairs...

"Elephant, 'Executioner' wants to challenge you, watch the time, you're definitely done for this time..."

The moment Dorian heard it, he rushed to the fence and glanced down, staring at the 'Executioner' covered in olive oil, whose astonishingly plump figure elicited a woeful cry from Dorian: "Hey, Executioner, you're already earning a high salary, no need to covet my little pile of money..."

Standing at 195 centimeters tall and robustly built, the 'Executioner', with his traditional Mongolian-style 'simplicity', vigorously slapped his thick chest muscles. Smiling with a face full of corpulent flesh and clinking his big fists the size of sand bowls, he said, "Knocking down enough people, it's no longer just a little bit of money...

Elephant, you could give it a try too, I think you definitely won't last three minutes because you're lacking something we have..."

Once Joe Ga heard it, he knew it must be because Dorian had been coaxing the Russian guys to join the betting these past few days, irking the Jazz Squad...

Seeing Dorian gritting his teeth in distress, Joe Ga laughed and said, "Elephant, get in there, I believe you can certainly do no worse than the 'Executioner'."

Dorian glanced at the group at the doorway that looked as if they'd taken an overdose of drugs; he shook his head sensibly and said, "Boss, a brawl is fine, but alone, definitely not.

We've tried it; the one who lasted the longest now is four and a half minutes."

Dorian's words made the Russian mobsters downstairs chuckle coldly; then the automatic gate of the farm flung open, and the 'Executioner', like a beast unleashed, charged out.

After several days of interaction, it seemed an understanding had formed between them...

The moment the 'Executioner' emerged, those agile black guys retreated a good ten-plus meters, trying to lure the 'Executioner' out for an encirclement.

However, how could an old bird like the 'Executioner' fall for that?

The moment he burst through the gate, he made a sharp turn to the right, grabbed a black guy who weighed at least 200 pounds, and with a Mongolian wrestling move, threw him 5 meters away.

Watching the black guy floored and dazed, unable to get up, the Russian mobsters downstairs let out a cheer of "Ura~" and collectively raised one finger...

"1!"

The 'Executioner' after a successful move, didn't rush forward rashly. He slapped away a hand stretched out by a black guy, caught hold of the belt of the unlucky guy, then bent low and hoisted him up...

Spinning in place to push back a few black guys hoping to take advantage, he then hurled the unlucky guy out like throwing a shot put...

As the unlucky guy screamed, crashing into his mates and knocking down a bunch, the 'Executioner' grinned wickedly, turned back, grabbed a black guy clinging to his waist, roared furiously, grabbed his belt with both hands, lifted him and swung him away.

By now, the black guys attacking the 'Executioner' realized something was amiss; not only was this big guy extremely stable on his lower body, but he was also covered in olive oil, making him slippery and uncontrollable.

And the 'Executioner' always stayed within the threshold of the farm gate, never venturing too far out, avoiding being surrounded from all sides.

Any black guy who dared set foot in the farm gate, even just one foot, would get seized by a bunch of Russian guys and get a severe beating.

After one or two precedents, the black guys had learned their lesson.

After taking down four or five men in a row, the 'Executioner' seemed somewhat dissatisfied with his efficiency. He deliberately advanced a step, adopted a boxing stance, and teased the now hesitant black gang by beckoning to them...

It was Joe Ga's first time witnessing this kind of combat—wild, primitive, blood-pumping...

He had started off a bit amused watching Dorian's discomfort, but now Joe Ga had completely forgotten about it...

The initial grappling moves of the 'Executioner' were unbelievably formidable; anyone thrown by him failed to stand up again.

When the 'Executioner' switched to boxing mode, Joe Ga felt like he was watching a rampaging polar bear.

There was no fancy footwork like the butterfly step; it was all about leveraging his weight and holding the line, exchanging heavy blows with any black guy who attacked him.

By this time, the greased up 'Executioner' really showed the purpose of the oil—impossible to grab, punches slipped when landed, and with his thick muscular build, the 'Executioner' stubbornly lasted 6 and a half minutes under these conditions.

Even though by the three-minute mark, the 'Executioner''s punches began to slow, it hardly affected his domination.

Without heavy boxing gloves and with hands wrapped in sturdy gauze, every hit he landed toppled an unlucky guy in pain.

For Joe Ga, those black guys naturally appeared diminished; they looked like mad monkeys attacking a polar bear.

Occasionally they could score some hits, but a single blow from the polar bear would sap their fighting spirit.

"8"

"9"

...

"15"

"16"

...

"20"

Every time the tally increased downstairs, Dorian's forehead beaded with more sweat...

Just when Joe Ga thought the 'Executioner' might go on, the tall 'Executioner' took a punch to the face, then stumbled dizzily back inside the farm…