Chapter 5566

As Joseph’s men gradually closed in on Gustavo and his men, the Mexicans formed a protective circle
around Gustavo. Despite the mounting tension, Gustavo maintained a cold and somewhat angry
demeanor. He felt like he was the alpha, and when the tiger fell, the dogs would pounce.

In his former life outside prison, Gustavo commanded thousands of troops. Anyone who dared to cross
his path on the street risked a swift, pistol-inflicted end. But now, within the confines of an American
prison, he found himself in a passive position, surrounded by a group of brawny, brainless men.

Feeling outnumbered and cornered, Gustavo couldn’t help but shout, “Joseph, what is the meaning of
this?”

Joseph abandoned his followers and stepped outside the encirclement to address Gustavo. He pointed
to his group of followers with a stern expression and said, “Gustavo, you’ve been living too lavishly in
Brooklyn Prison. Some of my boys haven’t tasted real steak in over a decade, and yet you enjoy it daily.
You even put caviar worth tens of thousands of dollars in your hamburger, and let’s not forget the
Romanee-Conti wine, worth thousands per bottle. Today, I realized the taste of Romanee-Conti for the
first time!”

Joseph continued, looking somewhat embarrassed, “Gustavo, there’s an old Chinese saying, ‘Worry not
about scarcity but inequality.’ You insist on claiming privileges here, and it’s making my brothers restless.
They want steak, caviar, and Romanee-Conti too. I can’t resolve this problem for them, so I’ll let them
settle it with you.”

One of Joseph’s men cheered and shouted, “Yes! Why should Gustavo be the only one enjoying steak
and red wine here?!”

Gustavo responded disdainfully, “That’s because you don’t have the money I do. If you were as wealthy
as me, you could indulge in these luxuries too. But you don’t have the money, and neither does your
boss. Blaming me is pointless.”



This incited anger from Joseph’s men. One of them retorted, “It’s none of your business how much
money you have outside. Even if you guzzle all the red wine in the United States, we wouldn’t care. But
when you’re in here, you must follow the rules.”

Gustavo scoffed, “Rules? Tell me what the rules are here.”

The response from Joseph’s men was unanimous, “You can’t have privileges in Brooklyn Prison!”

Gustavo remained oblivious to the danger that loomed over him. He continued to believe that these
people were targeting his followers rather than himself. The man who had been filled with pride for most
of his life now wore a sarcastic expression as he spoke, “A bunch of ignorant Americans! You may not
fully comprehend my power. The privileges I enjoy here go far beyond what you see! When I wish to
indulge, I do so in lavish parlors. My men meticulously select beauties from all corners of the United
States for my pleasure. Some of these beauties travel thousands of kilometers just to spend three hours
with me, and they leave with tens of thousands of dollars. I can even have my men bring your wives to
kneel before me and serve me. These are experiences you people will never have in your lifetime!”

Gustavo’s words flowed with confidence, and he reveled in the satisfaction of his fantasies. However, the
expressions of his followers darkened as they grew more despondent.

They too believed they were the ones being targeted, not their boss. Consequently, the more their boss
provoked Joseph’s men, the more determined they became to teach them a lesson later on.

One of Joseph’s group, consumed by anger, gritted his teeth and turned to Joseph, declaring, “Boss, I
can’t tolerate this rotten Mexican any longer! I’m going to kill him today!”

Joseph sneered and responded, “Brothers, feel free to act boldly today. Whatever happens, I will take
responsibility for it!”



Joseph issued the command, and his boys shouted as they surged forward, closing in on Gustavo’s
group like a relentless tide.

Gustavo’s men found themselves facing a formidable adversary, armed only with plastic dinner plates
and spoons as makeshift weapons. However, their opponents were American muscle men who spent
hours every day working on their strength. In such close-quarters combat, the victor was determined by
the strength of their fists. It was evident to the naked eye that every punch thrown by Joseph’s men
brimmed with determination. With each blow, the faces of Gustavo’s men contorted in pain, and it
became almost routine for them to be knocked unconscious by the relentless pummeling.

As a result, after several confrontations, Gustavo’s men were beaten into submission, eventually
kneeling down and begging for mercy.

Gustavo, who had once been arrogantly confident, watched as his men fell one by one. Initially, he
hoped the onslaught would cease, but it became evident that there was no intention of stopping. At that
moment, Gustavo’s once-proud face began to pale, and for the first time, fear etched its way across his
features.

As Joseph’s men closed in on him, Gustavo was gripped by fear, and he couldn’t help but shout, “Have
you forgotten who I am? I am Gustavo Sanchez! A renowned figure with billions of dollars in wealth and
thousands of private armed forces at my command! If I so choose, remember this well, I can eliminate
every single one of you, even your families!”

Joseph responded with disdain, “Come on, Gustavo, using your army in Mexico won’t save you here.
This is the United States, the land of the free. If you’re as powerful as you claim, why haven’t you called
in your thousands of private armed forces to rescue you from Brooklyn Prison? You know as well as I do
that there are only a few dozen armed guards in this entire facility.”



Gustavo found himself at a loss for words momentarily. In a last-ditch effort, he said, “Joseph, I am a
man who seeks retribution for his wrongs. In Mexico, if someone wrongs me, I may not have ten
thousand, but I have thousands seeking revenge. If we put an end to this matter now, I promise you, I will
not seek vengeance. What do you think of this proposal?”

Joseph sneered and replied, “What do you think, men?”

With a sweeping gesture of his arms, Joseph beckoned to his men on either side. One of them
immediately exclaimed, “To hell with the proposal! Let’s kill him!”

A chorus of agreement followed, “Yes! Let’s kill him!”

In an instant, several boys brandished hidden homemade daggers from their sleeves. Without exception,
these daggers were crafted from angle iron, deceptively simple yet incredibly sharp, featuring a ninety-
degree right angle. A single thrust could pierce through flesh and create a sizable wound.

Gustavo’s spirits sank as he observed the array of weapons.

At that moment, he grasped Joseph’s true intent—his life was the target.

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