"Got it!"
Piere shouted impatiently, watching the retreating figure and spat out:
"Pah, what a show, a bunch of lapdogs."
He held a cigarette between his fingers, grumbling to himself:
"I've been alive all this time and never once heard of something called rock and roll. It's probably just another new term the Church coined to persecute people."
"Uncle Piere?"
Xia Beiluo took the opportunity to approach, greeted him, then asked curiously:
"Did those from the Black Snake Gang come to hassle you?"
"Oh, it's you—well, I suppose they did."
Piere removed his cap, scratched his balding scalp, and said:
"Their brains are as smooth as marbles, not a wrinkle to be found. They come here saying I've got a casino and that I'm hiding rock and roll? Heh, that's laughable. Look—this is my scrapyard, just 800 square meters, you can see it all in one glance, and they claim there's a 'casino' here?"
