"Customer, remember to come back if you find anything good!"
Allen Zhang flipped George the bird without looking back and left the door with that huge sum of money.
His entire fortune had now skyrocketed to a frightening US $7,238!
The sky turned gloomy and dark, with drizzles of rain starting to fall.
Luckily, his bicycle hadn't been stolen this time. Getting pickpocketed on his own turf would have been embarrassingly shameful.
Those organized and premeditated gangs weren't worth fearing, since they left traces that could be tracked. As long as they dared to fence the goods, Allen Zhang would have the chance to nab them, and his connections at the VT exchange and with Mark's people weren't there for nothing.
What he dreaded were the greenhorns fresh on the street and the despicable out-of-towners who were unknown to all, commit a crime, and then vanish without a trace—there was really no way to deal with that.
