Chapter 5534

Upon receiving Hogan’s command, Jordan bolted out in haste.

Chinatown, a maze of complexity confined to a single thoroughfare, fostered an intimacy among its
denizens. A bustling street, it drew Chinese souls in droves. Here, bonds mimicked those of street-side
neighbors. Despite a sprinkling of unscrupulous characters, the collective ethos leaned toward
assistance and solidarity.

In the early days, newly-arrived Chinese immigrants in the States sought strength in numbers, forming
close-knit groups for survival. Over time, as society evolved, so did the divisions, and the occasional
alliance for mutual protection transformed into a vocation. Thus, the Chinese gang took shape.

Bloom Gang’s history told a different tale. From its inception, it was not a marauding crew preying on the
weak.

Contrary to their Chinese counterparts, American gangs, largely birthed during Prohibition, thrived on
anti-government ventures. They bore a century-long grudge, a doctrine that flouted authority. Huabang,
on the other hand, collected protection dues in Chinatown akin to an unofficial community fee,
reasonable and obliging, attending every household’s call.

Yet, the Burning Angel, collectors of protection dues, were veritable brigands. They craved only lucre,
your life was spared if they got their fill. Deny them and a blade or bullet would speak.

Minutes later, Jordan returned with a middle-aged man in tow, a man of about forty.

As soon as the man crossed the threshold and beheld Hogan, he exclaimed with zeal, “Brother Hogan,
you’ve returned!”

This was Casey Vigo, the overseer of the Chinese gang in New York’s Chinatown.



Spotting the thick bandage around Casey’s neck, Hogan swiftly inquired, “Vigo, what happened to your
neck?”

Casey sighed, “Long story short, caught a bullet coming home. Grazed my neck. If I’d been a hair off, I’d
be reporting to the Lord of Hell.”

He turned a horrified gaze to the five wretched figures in the corner. “Hogan, what in the world
happened? What’s going on?”

Hogan pressed, “Jordan didn’t fill you in?”

“Only mentioned it was urgent,” Vigo replied, “But didn’t spill the specifics.”

Nodding, Hogan explained, “These fellows came to collect ‘dues’ from Jordan, but Mr. Jagoan here gave
them a different lesson.”

Then, to Jagoan, he introduced, “Mr. Jagoan, this is Casey Vigo, head of the Chinese Gang.”

Casey stared in astonishment. Jagoan could scarcely believe that this vicious Burning Angel bunch had
been reduced to such a state by the young man before him.

Hogan continued, “Vigo, allow me to make the introduction. Mr. Jagoan here also wished to meet you.”

Casey Vigo snapped back to reality. Unfamiliar with Jagoan’s identity, he surmised it was no small feat to
have inflicted such a pounding on these five. He promptly approached Jagoan with respect. “Hello, Mr.
Jagoan. I’m Casey Vigo. Pleasure to meet you!”

Jagoan nodded, inquiring, “How many members are in the Bloom Gang?”

Casey honestly replied, “Nearly a hundred once, but now, barring the wounded and the deceased, most
have scattered.”



Jagoan’s brow furrowed. “With nearly a hundred, how’d you let these five ruffians roam Chinatown?”

Casey, shame washing over him, confessed, “Mr. Jagoan… These five belong to the Burning Angels.
Behind them are Italians. They command over a dozen gangs, totaling several thousand. We’re
outmatched…”

Jagoan’s voice went cold, “Have you ever heard of a gang brawl with thousands involved in the U.S.?
Could they really march thousands into Chinatown?”

With a rueful expression, Vigo said, “Mr. Jagoan, you don’t understand… They’re ruthless. Openly or
covertly, they’ve taken out key members of our gang. Fear gripped our brothers and they’ve all
recoiled…”

Jagoan pressed on, “How many of yours have the Burning Angel taken?”

Vigo’s reply was somber, “Eleven… Only… We’re a foreign minority gang in New York, can’t take on
local titans like them. We have no wish for confrontation and they’ve taken full advantage. Lay a finger
on one of theirs, and they’d exact retribution tenfold…”

Jagoan persisted, “What about the ethnic minority gangs? Koreans, Vietnamese, Algerians, are they
being crushed by the Burning Angel, too?”

Vigo evaded Jagoan’s unyielding gaze, hesitating. “I haven’t heard of any clashes with them…”

Pointing at the five, Jagoan turned to Vigo, “Then, have you ever wondered? Why do these men steer
clear of Koreatown and not Chinatown?”

Vigo, reddening, hung his head in shame.

Silence pervaded, broken by Will, quivering. “The Koreans are armed to the teeth because… Since 92,
we’ve had scarce confrontations with them…”



Jagoan nodded, shifting focus. He probed Vigo, “Do you know why they haven’t dared provoke Koreans
since 92?”

Vigo admitted, shame weighing on his words, “I… I know… The Koreans have made a name for
themselves in the U.S…”

Jagoan’s tone remained icy, “And they earned that name with blood. So, as head of the Chinese Gang,
why haven’t you mustered your troops? Don’t forget, you lead nearly a hundred brothers, with the entire
Chinatown community depending on your shield. They’ve paid for your protection. When you flee, what
do they do?”

Vigo flushed, wishing he could bury himself.

Jagoan pressed on, “Have you thought that if you retreat, the vendors in Chinatown are left defenseless?
Soon, they’ll be seen as easy prey. Today, the Burning Angel takes a piece, tomorrow the Frozen Demon
may come for their share. In days, even the strays will come for a taste! Furthermore, what if you retreat?
Will they spare you? If so, why’s the boss of a Chinese gang, a towering figure, cowering in a hair
salon?”

Jagoan’s barrage of questions nearly shattered Vigo’s resolve. The past days had tormented him. His
brothers fell one after another, and he himself came close to death’s door. But as the boss, he never
mustered the courage for a final stand. Fear of the Burning Angel’s escalating brutality shattered the
Chinese Gang’s resolve.

In these past days, regret gnawed at him. Regret for not facing the Burning Angel head-on. Perhaps,
with unwavering resolve, they might have relented, sparing his brothers.

The weight of his decisions, past and present, crushed Vigo. His eyes reddened, voice choked with
emotion. “It’s all my fault. I’m too weak. I thought if I appeased them, things would improve. Little did I
know, retreat only led to a precipice and now, it’s too late to turn back. My brothers won’t return…”



Jagoan met his gaze, firm and calm. “It’s never too late to wake up.”

With those words, Jagoan handed Vigo a loaded pistol, with five bullets left. “If you’re truly awake, think
of how Carvin met his end. Then think about how you’ll avenge him.”

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