Yoren could tell that Baldhead clearly knew who the Glasgow Gang were.
What puzzled him was the way the man reacted—with disdain, even hatred.
In Victoria, wasn't the Glasgow Gang supposed to be at the top?
This unexpected twist gnawed at Yoren, stirring up not just present frustration but a deeper, long-simmering anger. From the moment he arrived in this city, he had felt like an outsider. He was like a backwater bumpkin stepping into a world far more intricate than he was prepared for. He didn't understand the rules, the unspoken cues, or the hidden codes of conduct. And each time he stumbled, there were always eyes on him. Sneering. Mocking. But never teaching. He had to scrape together his knowledge from the fragments he could gather, enduring humiliation after humiliation.
He used to bite his tongue. Survival was all that mattered in the beginning. That was his core principle. He needed to live long enough to grow.
Like the hotel proprietress who scammed him out of a thousand yuan a few days ago—he had just accepted it, taken the loss, as if he deserved it. But right now, something shifted inside him. A new clarity.
To build the currency called power, he once believed he had to wait in line like everyone else, play by the rules, tolerate those who cut ahead. But now he realized he didn't have to queue. Hell, he might already be in the VIP lane and hadn't noticed. After crawling through so much filth, his accumulated strength was finally enough to let him throw his weight around.
Even in a developed country like Victoria, darkness flourished in broad daylight. Collusion between nobles and corporations. Gangs acting out the dirty will of officials. That was the world. No pure justice. No absolute evil. The public cheers for the one who wins. You crush the wicked—even with more wickedness—and you become a hero.
When Yoren looked again at the arrogant bald man, he suddenly felt a flicker of pity. Someone like that wasn't even qualified to have a proper conversation with him anymore.
Baldhead, meanwhile, took Yoren's silence as fear.
"What's wrong, kid? Cat got your tongue? Think shouting 'Glasgow' scares me? This isn't Londinium, dumbass."
Yoren gave ACE a side glance. A silent cue.
ACE nodded and began pulling the others back. They stepped away from the confrontation.
Yoren turned back to Baldhead with a deadpan expression.
"Tell me everything you know about the Glasgow Gang. Their city layout. Group distribution. All of it."
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
Yoren sighed and slowly picked up a brick from the yard.
"I'm tired. I don't want to waste any more breath. You have three seconds to answer. If you don't, I'll break you. If you can still speak after that, maybe I'll ask again."
"Oh, screw you. Think I'm scared of a brick?"
"One."
"You playing games now?"
"Two."
"Kid, go back to watching TV dramas."
"Three."
"Boys, break this brat's legs for me—"
Smack!
Yoren's arm shot up, and the brick shattered across his own forehead.
Silence.
A thin stream of blood slid down Yoren's brow.
The bald man blinked, confused. Was this kid... nuts?
His confusion didn't last long.
Boom!
A blur. Yoren vanished. The next second, the bald man's chest compressed under a brutal weight. The sky spun, and then his massive body slammed into the ground with bone-snapping force.
Blood sprayed from his mouth. His ribs cracked audibly.
Panicked, he reached up to push Yoren off. But his arm was immediately caught and twisted until it bent at an impossible angle.
Crack!
"AHHHH!"
He shrieked.
Yoren sat on top of him, his eyes cold. A pattern shimmered faintly in his left pupil. Through the self-inflicted pain, he'd easily drawn out the darkness inside him. It was the seventeenth day of the black-and-white twin cycle. Had he not restrained himself, this man would have died instantly.
Yoren leaned in, his voice a monotone of dread.
"Hurts, doesn't it? I've lived through worse, so no, I don't feel sorry for you. Ready to talk yet?"
The other gang members finally snapped out of their stupor. Their boss was on the ground, pinned like a dog.
"Screw this, he jumped us! We outnumber him! Get him!"
Iron bars and knives gleamed. They closed in.
But Yoren didn't even glance at them. He stared straight into the bald man's panicked face.
"You still don't want to talk? Fine. I'll send you to hell first."
He raised a fist, black mist swirling around it.
"Wait—"
Boom!
His punch slammed into the ground next to the bald man's head.
The impact shook the earth. The entire yard cracked and groaned. Dirt exploded into the air. The shockwave flattened nearby gangsters and knocked debris flying.
"Ack! Ack!"
Snowsant, who had been quietly eating a bun in the distance, coughed as dust rained over her.
When the smoke cleared, the gang members were sitting in the dirt, dumbfounded. Before them lay a crater, deep and spider-webbed with cracks. Yoren stood at its center, hand buried in the ground.
The bald man lay limp, one side of his face covered in blood. The fist hadn't struck him directly, but even the shock had nearly knocked him out.
Yoren slowly pulled his fist free and looked down at him again.
"Now," he said flatly, "do you want to talk about the Glasgow Gang?"
Yoren stood against ordinary gangsters—and unsurprisingly, there was no contest. This time, he didn't hesitate to tap into the power of the black and white twins. Their power was unnaturally strong, yet to any outsider, it merely looked like exaggerated physical strength—perhaps something someone like Vina could also pull off.
Of course, Yoren had done his best to control his strength. He only meant to make a fist-sized hole in the ground. Instead, the energy surged out of control, carving a crater into the yard. It seemed he still needed time to adapt to how the twins' power fluctuated between their operational cycles.
Twenty minutes later...
The once pristine yard was now filled with seven or eight burly men, sweating under the sun as they shoveled earth into the gaping hole. Some were hauling baskets of dark soil from outside. Despite their injuries, they worked in silence, fixing what they had broken with uncharacteristic care.
Inside the house, the bald man—Aguang—sat slumped in a chair. Half his face was wrapped in gauze, his complexion ghostly pale.
Yoren glanced at him coolly. "Looking at your build, it's just a few broken bones. You won't die."
Aguang forced a crooked smile. "No, no, I'm tough. Still hanging in there, haha."
Yoren nodded. "Good. I'll ask, you answer. Once we're done, go get treated."
"Yes, of course."
From Aguang's lips, Yoren finally pieced together a clearer picture of Victoria's underworld.
The Glasgow Gang was, without doubt, the most powerful organization in Victoria. Their influence, wealth, and strength were unmatched. Everyone knew about the gang led by the undefeated King of Advancement.
But Victoria was vast. No matter how dominant the Glasgow Gang was, they couldn't unify the entire underground world. Just like people risking their lives for profit, gangs emerged wherever power was absent. And once they grew unchecked, they gained ground.
A great river split Victoria in two—north and south. The north, led by Londinium, boasted the most developed economy. Nine of the country's fourteen million-plus cities were there. Geography, resources, transportation—everything favored the north.
In the struggling south, smuggling became the lifeline of many gangs. Along the coast, illicit trade required manpower and wide-reaching networks. Over the years, smuggling gangs had flourished, slowly pushing their influence upward.
The Glasgow Gang operated with elite precision, valuing quality over quantity. They only involved themselves in high-return business. Smuggling ordinary goods? Too inefficient. If they smuggled, it was Origin Stones, and only Origin Stones.
Over time, they had completely dominated the underground Origin Stone trade in the north. Rival gangs either surrendered and became tools, or vanished.
But their influence had never reached the south.
Maybe they lacked the manpower. Or maybe they just saw the south as unworthy. But as smuggling profits skyrocketed in recent years, the Glasgow Gang finally looked southward.
Yet it was too late.
Two rising giants already ruled the region: the Haimen Gang and the Friedo Chamber of Commerce.
Headquartered in San Di City, the Haimen Gang monopolized southern maritime smuggling. Meanwhile, the Friedo Chamber of Commerce had wormed its way into nearly every illicit industry.
Their influence was vast, their numbers massive. In city after city, their networks held tight control. That was why invoking the name of the Glasgow Gang here in the south didn't mean much. It was like a lion wandering into a hyena's den—even if stronger, it couldn't hunt as it pleased.
Yoren exhaled slowly, absorbing everything Aguang shared.
"Your name's Aguang, right?"
"Yes."
"You with the Haimen Gang or Friedo?"
"Neither," Aguang said, eyes downcast. "We're just a tiny local gang. At most, we're fringe members under Friedo."
"Who controls this city, then?"
"Friedo does. Their HQ isn't here, but they run most of the black markets. Plus, they have ties with the Leaf family. We don't have a say. Making a living here is hard. We just follow orders. I didn't know who you were before, brother. I messed up."
Yoren waved his hand. "Enough. Go get your injuries treated. And don't ever trouble my second uncle again."
"Understood. But Mr. Donde won't give up. He wants this land badly. There's a lot at stake. I'd advise you to take the money and move. Some things can't be solved by fists alone."
Yoren nodded. "I'll handle it. Just keep your people in line."
"Got it. Farewell."
The thugs filled the hole, gathered their things, and escorted Aguang to the hospital, broken and silent.
When the dust settled, Yoren stood alone in the yard, staring into the sky. The turtles beside him remained quiet, sensing his mood.
The Glasgow Gang's reach stopped at northern Victoria. That meant Vina's headquarters had to be somewhere around Londinium or one of the major cities nearby.
If he wanted to find her, he would need to go north. Far north.
But then what?
If he joined the Glasgow Gang, what would happen to everyone else? ACE would probably return to Bura City and work in a supermarket again. Turtle and Ifrit—they depended on others to survive. Vina might treat them well, but would it feel the same?
At that moment, Hurd stepped out onto the porch.
He stood behind Yoren, sighing heavily.
"Sigh... This is the first time I've realized how many types of gangs exist. Forget it. We can't afford to fight them. If they want us out, they'll find a hundred ways. I'll agree to move if they come back. It doesn't matter where we live."
Yoren didn't respond.
Because right now, he wasn't thinking about moving.
Something else had taken root in his mind. A reckless, ambitious thought that could change everything.
Yuan Shan had said something big was going to happen in Victoria. Yoren knew his reason for being here: to help Vina stay undefeated, whether by force or protection.
Now, with the north under Vina's control, Yoren saw his role clearly.
He would turn the south into wings for the queen of the north.
Stretching out his hand, Yoren reached toward the blazing sun overhead.
Yes. Ruling southern Victoria was bold—maybe even insane.
But could he do it?
Yes.
Because he believed...
That now, he could finally be counted among them.
He could do it.