Chapter 170: Nowhere to Escape

“Wood…”

Wood, dining with friends, froze when he heard someone call his name. Turning around, he saw a former classmate.

Few knew that after police academy, Wood had been assigned to the FBI’s secret police—his parents included.

To most, Wood seemed no different from ordinary people. In the current social context of the Baylor Federation, police academy was even considered less prestigious than some technical schools for workers.

Policing was dangerous and low-paid. Ordinary people believed a plumber had a better future than a cop, and only police officers thought their job was decent.

Wood was never recruited by the Sabin City Police Department; his parents even celebrated by opening a bottle of wine.

Compared to policing, security work seemed better.

No one knew Wood had actually become an FBI agent—not even his closest family.

His FBI salary was paid through special funds to his superior, who then transferred it into a secret account.

This money remained frozen until Wood’s undercover mission succeeded or failed. Tracking it through spending records was beyond just police abilities; some criminal groups had the same power.

A single account could expose too much. Wood relied on his undercover earnings to live.

To most, Wood’s life resembled that of many others: wasting youth, learning nothing, then entering society to work.

But luck favored him—he accidentally became a skilled businessman, at least that’s how he explained it to his family. When he laid thousands of Sol in savings before them, they were stunned.

Their first thought wasn’t admiration but whether he should turn himself in, so a lawyer could plea for leniency.

Such situations often happened in low-income families: children suddenly returning with bags of money, embarking on different paths, only to fade away in the darkest nights of their brightest years.

Fortunately, Wood explained clearly and introduced his followers, lifting his family’s spirits.

At a barbecue restaurant, two days after a bidding event ended, Wood and his group gathered.

Due to Richard’s departure, Wood had won first place in the auction, continuing his streak of good luck.

But local demand for secondhand goods had dropped sharply under consumerism’s influence; the event’s total sales had fallen to just over 370,000 Sol.

Even as first place, Wood’s earnings were only about 3,000 Sol.

Still, this was an income many envied. Perhaps Lynch had forgotten the celebration for now or had other plans. The younger men hadn’t had the same chances as before.

Since it was Monday and everyone was free, Wood gathered his group for a luxury barbecue.

Unlike Lynch, Wood wasn’t rich enough to make everyone happy—he could only fill their stomachs, and they were grateful.

Before following Wood, many were near starvation.

As Wood smiled genuinely, a faint, almost forgotten voice reached him.

He glanced back—his high school classmate Terry, who had once been a big shot.

There were always students like Terry, seemingly indifferent to studies but thriving in society.

Most students looked down on them, believing they’d end up with lowly jobs—a view taught by teachers and society as the universal truth.

Yet after entering society, many realized the truth was very different.

This didn’t include university students, who were seen as society’s elite upon graduation; those below university weren’t.

Many who scorned Terry eventually ended up serving people like him, evident from his neat summer clothes worth at least 100 Sol.

Wood stood as two followers noticed and wanted to join, but he stopped them.

To most, he was an ordinary salesman or Lynch’s young partner—not remarkable—but only he knew his training and true identity.

He wasn’t afraid of gangsters like Terry; instead, a strong, special feeling grew inside him.

“Terry!”

Terry wore fine summer clothes and two gold rings with seven-pointed stars on the rings’ faces.

He also had a tattoo of a seven-pointed star the size of a fingernail on the left side of his neck.

This marked the local Sabin City gang called Seven Stars, involved in the sex trade with several subordinates.

Police and FBI had investigated but found no solid illegal evidence. Due to social factors, they hadn’t acted against them.

Many girls working there came from poor families and needed money; they weren’t forcibly recruited by the gang.

The gang provided a platform and, in some views, protected these girls from harm.

The authorities tacitly allowed the gang’s existence—at least the girls faced fewer dangers.

This absurd but grim reality was opposite to common sense and full of irony.

Terry nodded, looked Wood over, and tapped his shoulder lightly. Wood’s followers stood up quickly, surprising Terry.

He looked at Wood, who gestured for them to sit back down.

“Who are you with now?” Terry asked, assuming Wood had joined their world.

People like Terry remembered school and classmates deeply, even after years apart; he recognized Wood immediately.

“I’m a salesman now. How about you?” Wood pulled out a pack of cigarettes, handed one over, and they stepped outside to talk.

Terry was doing well, having risen to captain in the Seven Stars gang—a mid-to-high level with real power.

But he was somewhat dissatisfied. “Life’s tough now. Not much money, but plenty of trouble…”

He sighed, initially reluctant to talk, but thinking of Wood, an old classmate, and the unforgettable memories of their school and class, he decided to give a warning.

“You know, life’s tough for everyone now. Some people are close to losing it. After dark, it’s best to avoid remote places…” He took a drag of his cigarette. “No, don’t go out after dark!”

Wood found this strange but nodded in agreement.

Shortly after, a car stopped by the roadside. Terry tossed his cigarette away, said goodbye to Wood, got in, and quickly drove off.

Watching the rear window fade into the distance, Wood returned to the barbecue place, heavy with thoughts.

Later, Wood called his superior and reported what he’d discussed with Terry.

As an undercover agent, he had to promptly share any intelligence unless he’d gone rogue or it was temporarily unsafe. Contacting his superior or handler every few days was standard.

His superior showed no strong reaction but gave an explanation.

“The economy’s bad; gangs are struggling too. They aren’t getting paid but still have many members to support.”

“This kind of situation happens every few or several years. Soon, these gangs will erupt into large-scale battles. Don’t worry about it—someone will clean up the mess.”

In a way, the Fox family owed thanks to the FBI and Federal Tax Bureau. These two powerful agencies had taken out many competitors, leaving the Foxes with fewer rivals; otherwise, they’d likely be dragged into gang wars too.

This year, fewer competitors remained, and Lynch had created the Lynch Method, personally teaching the few remaining finance companies in Sabin City how to legalize their illegal businesses, which stabilized the industry.

But gangs involved in other operations were suffering. The bigger their territory once was, the worse their situation now. Besides fighting for more territory and loot, they had few options.

Moreover, many new gangs were emerging. Sabin City and the entire Federation’s underworld were about to face a major reshuffle.

The economy shapes not only the buildings above ground but those below as well.