America 1919

Every city that has developed due to the grey industry can indeed be called a Sin City!

Atlantic City is no exception.

Although under Nucky's management, Atlantic City seems to have its own set of rules, crime is always mainstream in this city.

This is just like Hong Kong in the 1950s and 60s.

After throwing out the last drunkard from the tavern, only Donnie and Old Carl were left in the Block Tavern.

"This kind of thing should have been done by me leading the team. What if those young guys get impulsive and screw up your plan?"

Old Carl sat opposite Donnie, the 500ml beer bottle in his hand seemed to have shrunk a size.

"Dad, don't you realize how old you are? Aren't you fifty this year?" Donnie said with a helpless expression, "If something happens to you, Mom would bury me alive!"

"She wouldn't dare!" Old Carl roared, then discontentedly added, "So what if I'm fifty? Just last night Robert was crawling out of the room. If it wasn't for me, the entire boardwalk would be laughing about how Robert couldn't handle three girls!"

Donnie was dumbfounded. In his memory, Old Carl was always a decent and honest man. How did he suddenly become like this?

Where did it all go wrong?

"Dad, nothing much can happen here in Atlantic City right now. But over in Elwood Village, we need someone to watch over things long-term. When are you going back?"

Donnie thought Old Carl should go back. Otherwise, Donnie feared that in a short while, he might end up with one or two half-brothers or sisters.

Seeing that Donnie wanted him to go back, Old Carl glared at him fiercely. However, he knew Donnie was right; Elwood Village did indeed need his presence. Eventually, he could only huff helplessly.

"I'll go back after they return!"

"I'll have John take you!" Donnie said immediately, afraid that Old Carl might change his mind.

Even though Old Carl's character had changed—or perhaps the freedom buried deep in his heart had been unleashed with the better family circumstances—there wasn't much change in the relationship between father and son. After discussing serious matters, they ran out of common topics.

After sitting for a while, Old Carl felt bored, picked up his beer, and walked out of the tavern.

"Where are you going?"

Donnie asked loudly from behind him.

"Next door!" Old Carl's voice came from outside the tavern.

Donnie: "..."

But with Old Carl gone, Donnie finally had time to think about tonight's matters.

"By this time, Pierce and his crew must have already clashed with Embiid's group, right?"

Donnie silently thought to himself.

The information about James transporting a batch of whiskey and rum to Atlantic City from Philadelphia was, of course, something Donnie had James spread to Pierce.

As mentioned before, these black folks are just a motley crew, a bunch of ungrateful white-eyed wolves!

No one can count on their complete loyalty to a person. Faced with two hundred US dollars, Gordon happily betrayed Pierce.

Donnie's objective was actually quite simple. First, he wanted that batch of whiskey and rum to make it to Atlantic City.

Secondly, Embiid had to be injured in this operation, but he could not die. After all, he was sent by Nucky, and in actuality, he also represented Nucky. More importantly, only if Embiid was seen escorting the liquor to Atlantic City would Nucky not suspect anything!

Lastly, Pierce must die in this operation. His existence was a significant threat to LeBron James. Now that LeBron James had sided with him, he must maintain his former reputation in North District for as long as he was still useful.

Even Nucky should not be able to replace him!

To ensure his plan would be executed smoothly, Donnie had sent out Robert, John, Chris, and Magichi.

"So this time, we're supposed to be on Embiid's side, since Pierce probably isn't his match?"

The outcome of the confrontation between Embiid and Pierce didn't really matter to Donnie. As long as the final result aligned with his intentions, that was all that mattered!

"The most difficult part of this whole affair is making sure Embiid doesn't discover the existence of Robert and the others."

.

Bang bang bang!

Just as Donnie had expected, a gunfight was taking place on the outskirts of Atlantic City at that moment.

The truck carrying the liquor was parked on the side of the road. In front of the two trucks, there was an old Ford Model T parked with bodies bleeding out between them.

But at that moment, no one paid attention to these details. The dirt road was divided into two factions, each hiding behind a vehicle and shooting at the other.

If someone were to look down on the battlefield, they would see that the side by the old Ford Model T was about to lose, with signs of retreat even.

Needless to say, these two factions were none other than Pierce's and Embiid's crews.

Crouched behind a car, Pierce felt an overwhelming regret. He had thought his ambush would be an easy success, but he hadn't expected Embiid's gang to be so formidable, pressing down hard on his own.

Watching his brothers fall one by one, Pierce no longer harbored the grand ambitions of becoming the boss of Atlantic City's North District. He prepared to run.

But at that moment, amidst the chaos of gunfire, Pierce clearly heard a scream of agony.

He initially thought one of his own men had been injured, but when he looked around, he didn't find any of his people down. He cautiously peeked out and was delighted to discover that it was Embiid who had been shot and had fallen!

"Good shot!"

Seeing the opposing leader injured, Pierce instinctively assumed it was one of his own men's doing and immediately shouted excitedly.

"Robert, I didn't expect your shooting to be so accurate?"

Just ten meters behind where Pierce and his men were located, amidst a cluster of bushes, Robert was lying there with a Mauser G98 sniper rifle in hand, accompanied by Chris.

Upon landing a shot on Embiid, a proud look immediately came over Robert's face, "Of course, on the battlefield, I was the best marksman in our division!"

With the proof of his victory right before them, Chris could only accept Robert's boasting.

"Quick, look, Embiid's men are probably about to falter!" Chris whispered, observing the situation on the battlefield.

Embiid's gang had already been at a disadvantage in terms of numbers. The reason they had appeared dominant initially was solely because of Embiid's own combat prowess, which had tipped the scales.

Now that Embiid had been shot, his men instantly lost their linchpin, and, with Pierce's side convinced they had been the ones to hit Embiid, their morale greatly surged.

Thus, the tide between the two sides began to shift at that moment.

"Don't worry, John will handle things!"

True enough, as soon as Robert's words fell, Pierce was shot as well, and his injuries were far more severe than Embiid's.

Embiid had only been shot in the shoulder and, although he was gradually losing consciousness, there was no mortal danger provided he received timely treatment.

But Pierce's situation was different—a bullet had hit him directly in the face, the powerful spiral force of the shot instantly disfiguring his entire face.

He was thoroughly dead.

Pierce's death terrified his entire gang speechless. They were worse off than Embiid's men; seeing their boss killed, they scattered like frightened mice, now only thinking about saving their own lives.

In such a situation, there was no need for John to do anything more; Embiid's men had already begun to cut down the lives of those who remained.

When the gunfire ceased to echo down the street, all of Pierce's gang were dead as well.

Had Embiid been lucid, he certainly would have instructed his men to leave survivors for questioning. But alas, at this juncture, Embiid's consciousness was blurry. One of his four men had died, another was critically injured, and two were lightly wounded. They vented all their fury upon Pierce and his cohorts.

"Alright, time for us to leave!"

Watching as Embiid's lightly wounded men hurriedly carried Embiid and others onto a truck and sped toward Atlantic City, Robert crawled out of the brush and walked over to the recent battlefield.

As per the habits formed on the field of battle, Robert delivered a finishing shot to each body, ensuring absolutely certain death.

Chris had wanted to collect their weapons and ammunition, but Robert stopped him.

"Don't touch anything else. Nucky is bound to send someone to investigate. If anything is missing, given Nucky's smarts, he'll surely guess what happened!"

"Ha ha, how's my shooting?"

At this moment, John walked up from the opposite side with Magichi, holding the same Mauser G98 sniper rifle as Robert, and called out proudly.

"Humph, still have the nerve to mention it. If it weren't for the guy by Pierce's side, who would know that it was Pierce who died?"

Robert was filled with the sensation of being on the battlefield, so he spoke much louder to John.

"Oh come on, that's exactly the brilliance of my strategy. Think about it, in such a chaotic scene, if Pierce had been shot directly in the forehead, it would've definitely raised Nucky's suspicions!" John said, smugly after a brief pause.

Robert didn't say much, just remarked, "Let's also leave quickly. By dawn, there will surely be people coming here!"

.

After rushing back to Atlantic City in their high-speed flight, Embiid and his companions neither sought out James nor went to see Nucky. Instead, they headed straight to the community hospital in the North District of Atlantic City at the earliest opportunity.

One of the lightly wounded men immediately used the hospital's phone to call Louis and report what had just happened.

Then they called James.

After hearing the story, Louis didn't hesitate at all and directly barged into Nucky's bedroom, even though Nucky hadn't gone to bed yet and was still with his lover....

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