New York, Lower Manhattan.
Andrea's Bar.
In a classic Mediterranean-style retro environment, a sexy woman with a petty-bourgeois air hummed folk tunes on stage. The occasional sway of her waist and her long, slender legs captured the attention of most of the men present.
But in a corner of the bar, the atmosphere was somewhat gloomy, completely at odds with the lively surroundings.
"Boss Roy, the family is so unfair! We were the ones who took out that bitch Theresa."
"That's right, without Theresa, the Black Skull gang is nothing."
"Boss, are we really giving the Bronx territory to that bastard Hertz?"
"Fuck it, I'll go take him out..."
Several burly, tattooed men, all exuding a fierce aura, cursed and grumbled with faces full of indignation. One, overcome with emotion, even reached for the gun at his waist.
"Enough!"
As the young man in the lead spoke softly, everyone fell silent.
The young man appeared to be in his early twenties, with sharp, three-dimensional features, black hair, and azure eyes. His handsome, mixed-race face showed no emotion, yet it held a soul-stirring authority.
Roy's gaze swept over the men, finally landing on the silent bar owner beside him.
"Drake, what do you say?"
Drake was the oldest among them, a typical middle-aged Italian man, missing two fingers.
Unlike Roy's other subordinates, Drake was an old-timer the Corleone family had planted in Lower Manhattan long ago. In a way, until Roy completely controlled this neighborhood known as 'Little Italy,' Drake was still under the direct authority of the family, not Roy's subordinate.
In response to Roy's question, Drake took a harsh drag from his thin cigar, his face shrouded in smoke. "Roy, I have to remind you, the family only said the reward for this mission was Little Italy. They didn't specify which one."
"And in New York, there are two Little Italys, including the neighborhood we're standing in right now."
As Drake finished speaking, the atmosphere instantly grew tense.
Just as Drake said, New York has two Little Italys. One is in the Bronx, a genuine gathering place for Italian-Americans, vast and lucrative.
The other was the very neighborhood they were in, located in Lower Manhattan.
In New York, although Manhattan is the city center and far more prosperous and bustling than the Bronx, in recent years, a Chinese man named Martin Li had risen from Chinatown. He established the Demon Gang, and its influence had already swallowed up more than half of the territory that originally belonged to Little Italy.
The name 'Little Italy' for these few streets in the lower district was now little more than a name.
In a way, Roy had been played by the capo above him.
Of course, this was also related to the fact that Roy had no one backing him.
Roy Corleone, 24 years old, 187cm tall, a transmigrator reborn on Earth. In this life, his father was a Chinese man, and his mother was the daughter of a high-ranking member of the Corleone mafia family.
Unfortunately, when Roy was less than four years old, his parents, maternal grandfather, and the rest of his family were all neatly wiped out in a car accident.
The Mafia is a tightly-knit organization connected by family bloodlines.
Within each family, the ranks, from lowest to highest, are: associate, soldier (official member), capo, underboss, and boss.
The boss usually resides at the family headquarters, with the underboss acting as a consultant, laundering money and often appearing as a glamorous figure in high society.
Capos are the family's executives, distributed across various cities.
Without his high-ranking maternal grandfather as a backer, the fact that Roy could become an official family member at such a young age was already a testament to his exceptional abilities.
Currently, the Corleone family's influence in New York City wasn't particularly large.
Besides the capo, there were only two official family members in New York.
The 'Hertz' that Roy's men spoke of was the other of the Corleone family's two official members in New York.
According to rumors, Hertz had allied himself with New York's newly rising drug lord, Frank Lucas. By dealing a new type of narcotic called 'Blue Magic,' he had earned the appreciation of the family's underboss.
Under these circumstances, it was quite normal for Roy to be outmaneuvered in the distribution of territory for official members.
A Little Italy that was just one street was still Little Italy.
Even if Roy took the matter to the family's Commission, they could easily claim that Roy had simply misunderstood. The territory allocation was basically a done deal; anger was useless.
Fortunately, after becoming an official member of the family, one could receive the complete family legacy.
Compared to this small problem in the territory allocation process, for Roy, the most urgent matter was activating his system.
That's right, as a glorious transmigrator, Roy also had a system.
However, unlike the conventional systems issued by the Transmigration Administration Bureau, Roy's system had evolved on its own from a 'Philosopher's Stone.'
The Philosopher's Stone, hailed as one of the four ultimate achievements in the alchemical arts of Western fantasy wizardry.
At the same time, the Philosopher's Stone was also known as the ultimate product of magical crystallography in the arcane arts of mages.
In his previous life, when Roy 'struck it lucky,' he had just taken a Philosopher's Stone pendant out of a delivery package. Unexpectedly, during the transmigration process, this thing absorbed parts of the 'Philosopher's Stone' concept from all the heavens and merged with Roy, evolving into a very rigid system.
In this life, Roy knew about the system's existence early on and had been trying to find a way to activate it.
It wasn't until Roy killed for the first time at sixteen, gained the family's recognition, and was taught a partial, incomplete breathing technique that the system finally showed some signs of life.
From the age of 16 to 24. A full eight years.
Relying on his extremely formidable skills, Roy carried out a total of 32 execution missions for the family before he was finally considered a true official member, not only receiving a small piece of territory but also the complete family legacy.
Roy didn't actually care about territory.
If it weren't for the need to appease his partners and subordinates, Roy wouldn't have even shown up at this bar.
Until now, Drake had spoken up, laying the reality before everyone and temporarily placating the men.
Only then did Roy tap the table, his gaze sweeping over his subordinates. "Alright, let's leave it at that for now."
"Drake, you make arrangements for the boys."
"Starting tomorrow, familiarize yourselves with the surroundings. Let's establish a firm foothold in the lower district before we talk about anything else."
"Remember the wisdom passed down by the family."
"Maintain your silence, and know the right time to act."
"You must understand when you should forbear, and when you can let loose!"
...
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