Apocalypse Forecast

Chapter 888 - 711: Where Water Flows Like Wine (Part 3)

A trembling hand took off his glasses. This white-haired man bent down and bowed ninety degrees forward.

"At your command!"

.

.

Two minutes later, the first command from the leader of the Huaizhi Gang reached everyone’s ears.

It wasn’t an order to fight, nor was it a reprimand or a compliment.

It was simply an invitation for everyone to have a drink.

Most people thought he was crazy, and some were already quietly preparing to leave, finding a safe place for themselves before the storm. But more people chose to stay.

Because the time was too rushed, because they were still observing, and because... the red envelope from Big Brother Huaizhi was just too tempting.

Of course, there were also anxious members who quietly approached the closest and most humble at the bottom, Big Brother Ueno, with concerned inquiries: "Big Brother Ueno, I heard the boss offended the five big shots, is that true? I’m afraid we won’t have good days ahead."

"Big Brother Huaizhi is a real man, what do you know?!"

Wrapped in bandages, Ueno smoked a cigarette and looked at them like they were a bunch of idiots, glancing askance: "Didn’t get the bonus? Just do your job well!

Not enough cars? Then borrow some! Doesn’t Yamada have a freight company? Not enough manpower? Then call over those wastes from your home who only know how to take drugs, as long as they have hands and feet, isn’t the boss paying?"

No matter what, tonight, under this absurd command, the newly reborn Huaizhi Gang began to operate.

Mobilizing more than double the manpower and countless outsiders, scattering endless money, and using over seventy percent of the budget, they almost emptied all the convenience stores and warehouses in Kyoto, blowing up the supplier’s phones, with trucks racing even to Nara and Osaka.

And at ten o’clock in the evening, it seemed as if all the world’s beer had arrived at the Tanbo Inner Circle.

Then, under the puzzled gaze of onlookers, members of the Huaizhi Gang began to move boxes after boxes to the street, piling them into mountains at hundreds of intersections.

When the distant clock sounded, tattooed men in ill-fitting suits jumped off the trucks, tearing open the packaging briskly and greeting politely.

Delivering each can of beer into the hands of anyone passing by.

For free.

Just like that, they tirelessly told everyone: this wasn’t a promotional ad, nor was it some despicable scam, it was merely a Mr. Huaizhi wanting to offer you a drink.

You didn’t need to know who Huaizhi was, nor understand why he was here, whether you chose to accept or refuse, he just wanted you to be happy.

Even if only for a moment, even if the happiness lasted only a fraction.

It’s just that simple.

He simply hoped you were doing well.

Some people refused, quickly walked away, and watched vigilantly. But more people, in a mindset of indifference, chose to accept and took the heavy beer.

Then, after carefully checking the production date and labels, they pulled the tabs and tasted the flavor.

Some praised highly, while others casually took a few sips, then threw it into the trash can. Whether curious, suspicious, or resistant, more and more people gathered.

Making the atmosphere gradually more enthusiastic, letting cheers spread in all directions.

Finally, in this narrow and filthy Tanbo Inner Circle, it converged into a thin, rippling sea.

Even after many years, people can still remember the cheers and laughter of that night on the streets, the way everyone raised their beers in hand and drank heartily.

Those hidden in alleys, under bridges, and in corners once again walked onto the street, unstintingly accepting a can of beer from those hands, regardless of rank.

Whether they were thugs, gangsters, ordinary people, hybrids, workers, or dancers, under the neon lights, everyone’s face bore a surreal smile.

In the wind came the distant sound of a harmonica, everything was drowned in the sweet fragrance of malt.

As if the world no longer had gloom.