"Damn! I worked hard for three hours and only made less than 20 gold shields."
William sighed, then held his chin thoughtfully: "I feel like your luck has been really good lately, Mo - today serving those dozens of tables, they were all big spenders."
—And yesterday, that incredible victory.
"I think André relies more on that face of his," another waiter said dismissively: "Did you notice? The ones who tipped him the most were all women."
"Face and luck are one thing, but I think the most important factor is service quality," said a female colleague: "Didn't you feel it? André's smile was very bright today, his voice and tone were extremely pleasant, and his service movements were especially clean and thorough, making people feel comfortable. If I were a customer, I'd also be willing to be generous for him and open my wallet."
André felt the somewhat burning gaze from this female waitress and couldn't help turning his head away somewhat awkwardly, while showing a contemplative expression.
The speaker was unintentional, but the listener was attentive - William's comment made him realize his current condition was indeed somewhat abnormal.
Could it be? Had his natal treasure not actually dissipated in the boundless void?
When this thought appeared in André's mind, excitement immediately flashed in his eyes. He even felt impatient, wanting to return to his dwelling.
Just then, several "bang bang" explosions suddenly came from the distance, shocking their eardrums. The glass curtain wall beside them also shattered with a crash at that moment. Screams arose throughout the restaurant. Before André could react, he was dragged under a table by William, whose face had turned deathly pale: "Damn! Someone's shooting. Shit, this is Market Street!"
André immediately understood, recalling memories about "firearms" from the original owner's memories.
These were modern inventions that used gunpowder or magic arrays to fire bullets. Some powerful firearms could even threaten high-level professionals. They were the government's greatest weapon for controlling magical professionals and even outlaws.
However, this was also the source of chaos in American society today. The early federal constitution stipulated that a well-regulated militia was necessary for the security of a free state, therefore the right of people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.
This constitutional provision was originally made to resist threats from the dark world, evil creatures, former colonial invasions, and natives, but was exploited by arms dealers. Through their efforts, America was flooded with guns, with hundreds dying daily from shootings nationwide, and Atlanta alone had over seven hundred shooting incidents last year.
However, few people would cause trouble on Atlanta's Market Street, which was a key patrol area for Atlanta Police with dense security presence.
Sure enough, after twenty-some gunshots, large numbers of police cars came roaring, and hundreds of fully armed officers poured out, sealing off streets and alleys and suppressing the situation.
Only then did people crouching in the restaurant dare to lift their heads and look outside.
The shooting scene was sixty meters away, but that area was already sealed off tightly by police cars and human walls. Soon after, the restaurant's operations manager came over with a grim expression.
"The boss says we're temporarily closing for today and tomorrow. Everyone prepare to get off work."
So numerous waiters including William all wailed in despair.
America operated on a five-day work system, so most weekend workers here were students in similar situations to William and André.
If they closed for today and tomorrow, it meant they would gain nothing this entire week.
André was actually pleased to see this - he was eager to return home to verify his earlier speculation. Since this matter probably couldn't be resolved in a day or two, the two-day work suspension suited his purposes perfectly.
"Well, I knew it! Looks like my reunion with my beloved car will be delayed another week. A bunch of shit! I really don't know what bastards came from where, don't they know the rules? Actually causing trouble on Market Street - their brains must be waterlogged. Just wait and see, those white pigs outside will definitely beat their brains out."
William spoke while cursing angrily, walking out with righteous indignation. But when they passed the crime scene surrounded by police cars at the street end, William automatically fell silent, looking utterly obedient.
This was because a group of white police officers were looking their way, some with cold expressions and hands on their holsters.
Through gaps between vehicles, they could vaguely see two bodies lying in pools of blood. William couldn't help but glance, then his expression became excited again.
"Hey! Mo, these are Blood Fang Gang members - I saw the wolf fang tattoo."
"I bet it was Black Prison Skull people who did it. Only they in South City dare provoke Blood Fang Gang and don't give a damn about the police. What do you think? Mo?"
André had no interest at all. He had already retrieved information about Black Prison Skull and Blood Fang Gang from his memories, knowing these were among the largest black gangs in South Atlanta. But gangs - things similar to underworld organizations but more vicious - whether in his past or present life, he maintained a contemptuous attitude toward them.
These weren't even as interesting as the police cars parked nearby, which made André more curious. According to the original owner's memories, these big vehicles ran on a fuel called "petroleum" and had become widespread in this world.
André really wanted to know what it felt like to drive these vehicles and what principles they operated on—
Oh right, there was also that sharply dressed, beautiful female officer in the crowd who made him involuntarily develop restless evil thoughts.
No need to ask - this was definitely another backlash from Dugu Tianyi.
It seemed the "heart-cleansing talisman" he had drawn had some suppressive effect, but when encountering beautiful women like that policewoman, it was essentially useless.
He suddenly understood that the technique that bastard used before dying was probably a method that could infinitely amplify human desires.
If it were the original Tao Ran, he would be completely unafraid of such methods. But his current state was a fusion of Tao Ran and André.
Whether it was yesterday's call girl or today's beautiful policewoman, Tao Ran could remain unmoved and indifferent, but the original André might not.
At this moment, William seemed to remember something: "Oh right, Mo, speaking of gangs, I heard that Teutonic Cross members came looking for you at school the day before yesterday? Franks wanted to recruit you?"
André fell into thought again, nodding after a second: "That did happen, but I refused."
The "Teutonic Cross" name sounded impressive, but it was actually also a gang. The only difference from Black Prison Skull and Blood Fang Gang was that this was a purely German-descended organization.
The Wiltonstein family that André's mother came from had originally come from the German Empire of the Old Continent, so he also had half-German heritage.
However, the original owner of this body had also maintained a respectful distance from gangs.
Although he was obsessed with investigating his parents' deaths and planned to avenge them, he had never considered borrowing gang power, which André especially appreciated.
Diligent, progressive, intelligent, and principled - this was André's current impression of the original owner. This unfortunate child who had died possessed all the qualities needed for success, except for an impulsive and easily angered personality.