According to eyewitness accounts from gas station employees, the two victims were refueling when the gunman appeared simultaneously from both sides. Without exchanging a word, the gunman immediately opened fire on the victims multiple times with a handgun before fleeing the scene in the victims' car. Furthermore, according to the latest news, both victims died en route to the hospital. After verification, it has been confirmed that neither victim had legal status, and police suspect they were Vietnamese illegal immigrants.
Police currently suspect the shooting is related to a gangland feud…
That night, we were suddenly called out of our room and taken to the warehouse behind the repair shop!
I noticed a car parked here, and Xiluo, along with a dozen or so other workers, were instructed to start working.
This is a red Mustang SUV. The license plate is gone, and I can clearly see several bullet holes in the windshield! There is also blood on the car doors and tires!
Seeing this reminded me of the news I saw today, and I almost immediately understood something!
We were a dozen or so workers, armed with all sorts of tools—welding guns, cutting tools, and some skilled mechanics… We opened the car's engine hood and quickly disassembled all the mechanical parts inside!
Tires, main shaft, and so on... all the car parts were taken out. There were people waiting behind them, who easily erased the serial numbers and markings on the engine, replaced them with new ones, and then did some other processing.
After everything was done last night, the car was just an empty shell... not even the tires were left, and the seats had been removed...
Then we picked up the spray gun and started working on the car's exterior.
First, we changed the car's paint, then we customized a four-row light fixture, and made some modifications to the doors and rear...
Finally, continue disassembly...
A once-complete car was reduced to countless pieces in almost one night. It was dismembered into countless parts.
I know that these parts—engine, spark plugs, fuel lines, and so on—will be used in the future when the repair shop is repairing other people's cars. If any parts need to be replaced, they will be used immediately.
And the modified car roofs aren't wasted. Customers often drive in their own cars and ask for personalized modifications, like adding a row of lights to the roof or raising the rear to make it look unique…
We were busy all night long, until dawn!
When dawn breaks, I can say with absolute certainty...
That car. It's completely gone!
I'm almost certain there's virtually no chance anyone would have noticed! Because the car is completely gone!
It was divided into countless parts, and then assembled into countless cars... I think even a god probably couldn't find out!
I know it's necessary to do this.
Police usually check the black market for stolen vehicles, but now that this car has been broken into pieces, how can they check it?
We workers had been busy all night. Everyone was exhausted, with bloodshot eyes. We were then allowed to take a day off, and some of the older foremen told us to go home and rest.
I washed my hands to remove the engine oil, and was about to go back to the room with Xiluo when someone called me back.
"Chen Yang".
I turned around and saw one of Eighth Master's men. I think I saw him once before in Eighth Master's room.
My heart skipped a beat, and then I heard him say to me, "Come with me for a moment. Eighth Master wants to see you."
I glanced at Xiluo instinctively. There was a hint of envy in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. He smiled at me and left alone.
I followed the man out and came to another warehouse, which was a large repair shop. Even though it was so late, I saw that there were still many workers busy at work. They seemed to be modifying cars. The blinding light from the welding made me subconsciously avoid looking at them.
I went up the stairs to the second floor and stood on the railing to look down. I noticed two men standing there, both wearing simple jackets... They weren't wearing the uniforms provided here, which surprised me.
Because I've been here for a week, and unless you're one of our own, no one from outside is allowed to come into the back!
However, I didn't say anything, but followed Eighth Master's men to a door.
"Go in." The man glanced at me.
As I pushed open the door, I saw Eighth Master sitting in a chair, resting his chin on one hand, seemingly deep in thought.
"Eighth Master." I walked up to him and stopped, calling out softly.
He snapped out of his daze, looked up at me, and then pointed to a long sofa against the wall: "Sit down."
The sofa is right by the wall. I sat down, and behind me was the window. Outside the window, downstairs, were the workers busy modifying cars.
Eighth Master first handed me a cigarette, then smiled and said, "How have you been feeling here for a week?"
"...Very good." I answered frankly, "It's great here, and everyone is very kind to me."
"Hmm." Eighth Master smiled, then casually picked up a large kraft paper envelope from the table and gently tossed it to me: "This is yours."
I paused for a moment, opened it and took a look. It was all documents. I couldn't help but look up at Eighth Master.
"Your legal status." Eighth Master smiled, his smile possessing a unique charm, very peaceful and approachable: "From now on, you're no longer an undocumented immigrant. Even if you encounter the police on the street, you don't need to be afraid anymore. Now that you have a passport and visa, you don't need to fear the immigration officers. However, your visa is temporary, only for three months. After three months, I will help you obtain real permanent status."
"Thank you, Eighth Master!" I looked at him solemnly.
"You were brought here by Fatty, so no matter what, I'll take care of you." Eighth Master said calmly, "I heard you seemed to be having some emotional issues this afternoon?"
I was stunned for a moment, but then I realized that the gym manager must have told Master Ba.
I hesitated for a moment, but decided it was better to be frank.
"I'm a bit down." I looked at Eighth Master, my gaze meeting his without flinching. "Eighth Master, I jumped into the sea, barely escaping with my life. I finally got here, and I want to do something! No matter what, I don't want to just spend my whole life as a lowly car washer! This past week, I've been stuck here working, and I feel..."
"Feel like there's no future in it?" Eighth Master laughed, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Feel like life is miserable?"
I didn't say anything, simply acquiescing.
“Young man,” he said, rubbing his temples. Then he looked at me intently, suddenly stood up, and walked to the window.
He had his back to me, looking out the window at the busy workers below: "Can you see them?"
"I saw it."
"They're all my men! Many of them are quite skilled, willing to fight and risk their lives! And many are like you. They all jumped into the sea to come here! They all have their own passion and want to do great things! They all rely on me for their livelihood now. They work for me... Why am I, Eighth Master, able to gain a foothold in Canada? Because I have many brothers! The men under my command truly respect me! Every single one of them is willing to risk their lives for me!"
He turned abruptly, a chilling expression appearing on his previously calm face: "Do great things! Everyone wants to do great things! But where in the world are there so many great things for you to do? Everyone wants to get ahead, everyone wants to rise to the top! But opportunities are always very, very few! Do you think we are the US government? Going around the world to fight wars every day? After Afghanistan, we fight Iraq, after Iraq, we fight Iran? Where are there so many great things for you to do?"
He suddenly sighed and shook his head. He said softly, "I'm getting old... Over the years, countless people have come and gone from here, many of them passionate young men like you, exceptionally skilled, each with lofty ambitions, coming in wanting to do great things, to make a name for themselves... But how many of them actually survive? I've seen too many, and I've sent too many people to their graves... All good young men! And you? Everyone wants me to give you a chance, but do you think I enjoy sending you to your deaths?"
He changed his tone again, looking at me: "You're new... after all, you're new! Don't forget that. I, Eighth Master, have many, many brothers to take care of. Some have waited here for two or three years without a chance to go out and do anything! How long have you been here? A week! And you're already getting impatient and restless? You can't hold back anymore? Nobody's inferior to anyone else! Here, all brothers are equal! I won't treat you differently just because Fatty brought you here! If I gave you every opportunity, what would my other brothers think of me! What would they think of you! You were brought here by Fatty, and I helped you get an identity—that's a favor. But when it comes to doing things, you can't be swayed by personal relationships!"
I fell silent.
I understand; what Eighth Master said makes a lot of sense. He was indeed right to do what he did.
Yes, others have been waiting here for so long, why should I be given a prominent position as soon as I arrive?
Seeing my dejected expression, Eighth Master suddenly chuckled, patted my shoulder to comfort me, and said, "However, you are indeed quite capable, I understand. You're a good fighter, very skilled. I can't be blind to that. I've said it before, I don't let personal relationships dictate things. I only look at ability! If you really are capable, I won't let your skills go to waste! Hmm... I called you here today mainly for two things. First, to get your identification documents ready for you, and second..."
He smiled mysteriously, looked at me, and said gently, "I'm giving you a chance now."
I was instantly invigorated!
In the early hours of the morning, I had already packed a few clothes and then got into a car, the same car that the workers had modified last night below Eighth Master's office.
I sat in the front passenger seat. The driver was one of Eighth Master's men.
In the back seat of the car sat two men, the same two men in coats I saw last night at Eighth Master's repair shop.
These two people had very cold expressions; one didn't like to smile, while the other always had a slight smile on his face... but I still felt that he was very cold.
Even when he's smiling, his eyes have a sharp edge!
Both of them were over forty, clearly Chinese, with their hands in their pockets. They got on the bus and immediately fell asleep without saying a word to me.
The car quickly drove out of Vancouver and headed north.
Part One: In the Jianghu, Not in Control of One's Own Fate, Chapter 138: Murder Training Class
“I will come over every few days. If you need anything, you can call me at this number.”
After I got out of the car, one of Eighth Master's men handed me a cell phone with a number saved on it. Then he turned around, got into the car, and drove away quickly.
I looked at the two men beside me, and I didn't know what to feel.
This is a farm. I'm not sure which way is which, but I know it must be quite far from Vancouver, because we drove for most of the day, from morning until afternoon. Judging from the surrounding environment, this place is far from the city and must be in the countryside.
The temperature was a bit low, and I felt a chill in the wind. The two middle-aged men next to me seemed indifferent; they had been sleeping the whole way and appeared quite tired. Now that they had gotten off the bus, they were standing there yawning.
The farm in front of us must be quite large. The surrounding fence is low, barely enough to keep people out. However, there is a wooden stake outside with a wooden board hanging on it. A line of words is painted on it, in Chinese, English, and even French.
The message reads: This is private property. Trespassers will be solely responsible for any consequences!
I know this is a warning. In North America, in the capitalist world, the first article of the capitalist world's constitution is: private property is sacred and inviolable!
Here, no one can trespass on someone else's private property. Even if you are a police officer, if you try to break into someone's home without proper authorization, the homeowner can even shoot you without facing any legal consequences!
The farm was somewhat deserted. Due to the climate, Canada's geographical location is far north of the latitude, and the further north you go, the colder it gets. I felt that the soil under my feet was a bit hard.
The two middle-aged men beside me glanced at me, then picked up their bags, lazily slung them over their shoulders, and walked toward the farm.
By the way, my mission here is to stay on this farm with these two middle-aged people for a while!
My job is to... "take care" of them.
The meaning of "taking care of" is quite clear: I will be responsible for cooking, cleaning, and other necessary chores on the farm. To put it simply, I will temporarily act as the "errand boy" for these two middle-aged men!
When Eighth Master started telling me this, I almost thought I misheard! After I confirmed it, I realized that Eighth Master wasn't joking... He actually wanted me to come and be a "service soldier" for these two guys!
Is this considered "giving me a chance"?
However, Eighth Master then coldly told me that if I was unwilling, he could give the opportunity to someone else. The way he looked at me at that moment was as if he were looking at an idiot.
Of course I'm not an idiot, and I understood immediately. Following these two people was clearly not as simple as it seemed.
...
The farm gate was unlocked; in fact, there was no need to lock it, since any adult male could easily climb over the fence. The gate was essentially useless.
As for the inside, I can tell that there used to be a pasture here, because I saw a wooden fence, which was probably used to keep livestock, but now it's empty. It's been abandoned.
This is a very desolate place. In the distance, there's a row of hills, not high, but very long. The nearest road is about two kilometers away; you have to go out and run along a small path to see it. Inside the farm, there's a cluster of small wooden cabins… Thank goodness. At least there's electricity here!
I felt like I'd stepped into a Western movie. There was a row of mangers and an abandoned irrigation ditch. I even saw a well—a man-made well that was drilled into the ground. The wellhead was only about the size of a washbasin, and there was a pump next to it; you just had to press the handle a few times to get water.
These wooden houses look old, but they are very sturdy. The door was locked, but Eighth Master's men had already given me the key.
As a service soldier, I naturally had the awareness of one, so I took the lead and opened the door.
Upon entering, I was immediately greeted by a musty, rotten smell, indicating that the place had been uninhabited for a long time. The layer of dust on the floor and tables confirmed my guess.
The two middle-aged men looked calm as they entered the room one after the other. They threw their bags on the floor, dragged over chairs, picked up a dirty cloth hanging on the wall, patted it off, and then sat down.
"Let's get something to eat first."