Morris never took the Gualts seriously, a group of failed races, who were also scattered by the empire and divided evenly throughout the empire. It would be difficult for any city to make up 5,000 Guerts, and in the face of such a group, Morris did not have to think too much. Therefore, he knew that the method that Durin said, that is, the method of capturing Hunn, was indeed a suitable solution, and he did not consider adopting it in the past.

When the three days were up, he took people to take back the farm and sell it. At that time, he will be able to leave at least one hundred and fifty yuan in benefits, which is what he is most concerned about.

Own wallet.

As a conscientious gang member, Morris still has a very regular daily life.

Every morning he would leave the house on time around nine o'clock, and he should have gotten up before half past eight, and there had been no early or late departure in three days. He wears a sweatshirt and jogs to Seventh Street, about two kilometers from his apartment. Once in the delicatessen, he would change into all sorts of eye-catching and gorgeous clothes, dress himself up in oily noodles, and then take a few of his men and start collecting debts in various parts of the city.

Lunch is usually eaten at the house of the poor debtors, and at about four o'clock in the afternoon they return to the delicatessen, where they settle their jobs and when it is completely dark, they go back to the "tropical jungle" and play until after twelve o'clock.

Tropical Jungle is a popular underground dance hall, and the reason why it is called an underground dance hall is because there is never a limit to the number of people here, and you can go straight in at any time, whether you are alone or a group of people. Formal bars, dance halls and other entertainment venues will have strict safety and fire protection requirements, such as the maximum number of people to accommodate, so many bars and dance halls often have a long queue outside the door.

But there are no such things in the tropical jungle, which is in the bomb shelter under the bridge across the 11th Street, and was originally organized by a group of young people in fancy costumes, with some iron nails embedded in their faces, out of the mainstream aesthetic eccentricity. They would play music that would be noisy to most people, but with a strong sense of rhythm, and they would sing and dance in the bomb shelters.

Gradually, this culture called "punk" was gradually worshipped by young people, and people continued to join them, until the bomb shelter became a mecca for young people. There is no need to pay expensive entrance fees or wait in line patiently, just bring a dozen fruit wines, or some drinks, cigarettes, and some chatter, and it is easy to fit into this special group.

No matter what the world is, there is always something that makes people feel speechless, and as more and more young people begin to blend into the tropical jungle and see it as a midnight mecca, the punk culture that they once admired is being pushed out. It's like a drop of ink in a small bowl can indeed change the color of water, but if this small bowl is replaced with a fish tank, replaced with a lake, a drop of ink will not change anything at all, but will be assimilated.

A large amount of mainstream culture poured into this pond, and what was once a mecca of punk culture became a mecca of mainstream culture again.

Morris would play here late every day, and if he met the right girl, he would leave early. However, he has a special taste, he likes young students, and the higher the education, the more interested he is.

As it grew dark, Morris drove with one of his men to the edge of the bridge over Eleventh Street. After locking the door, he drove down the spiral staircase of the bridge's maintenance passage to the river, and walked along the river for less than a hundred meters, and he could faintly hear the loud music in his ears. A sly smile appeared on Morris's face, and he squirmed as he walked, as if he were on the dance floor.

After walking about ten meters or so, there was a rusty iron door, and the moment the iron door was opened, the sound of music that had gradually become clear suddenly amplified, and a strong smell of wine came from the dark walk. The smell of the wine was mixed with some sweat and some inexplicable smell, which Morris had long been accustomed to. After walking through the dark passage of about 20 meters, you will come to a large empty space.

It was one of the many anti-aircraft facilities in Turner, and it was once a guarantee of people's lives, but now it seems to be as crowded with people as it was at its most glorious.

The young people spontaneously brought in some stones, chests from the outside, as well as steps and some facilities that were already in place, like a small gladiatorial arena. Under the dim light, in the energetic music, countless young bodies are dancing wildly in the middle of the open space, venting their emotions. In the "dance floor" where it is difficult to see each other's faces even face-to-face, men and women take off their daytime disguises and indulge their youth and their dying youth to the fullest.

Some of the girls were even naked, screaming, shaking their heads, squinting, as if they were in the clouds. The men may reach out and rub oil on the girls' bodies, but who cares, no one knows anyone after dawn, and that's the true essence of the tropical jungle.

Venting, indulgence, all the negative emotions that enter here are immediately evaporated.

Morris laughed and squeezed onto the dance floor, huddled with the young men and women, and let out as much catharsis as he could.

In the passages of the black hole in the distance, from time to time, there was a red-hearted sound that was dispelled by the loud music, this place was heaven for these people!

Morris, who had been hanging on the dance floor for a while, had never found a target to start, and he didn't like those who were too unrestrained, perhaps because he had no culture, and at the same time had something to do with culture and awe of high society. He was very fond of those who were cultured, and the moment when he rode them under him, and at that moment he felt as if he had become omnipotent. He will use his technology to tear apart the education, culture, and social status of those girls, just as he can conquer the whole world.

Suddenly, with an inadvertent glance, he saw a girl sitting quietly on the edge of the dance floor, wearing a pair of glasses and a long ponytail, very intellectual. Morris didn't know what intellectuality was, he only knew that the girl attracted him.

"Alone?", he squeezed over and sat directly next to the girl. The girl glanced at him and moved to the side, keeping her distance from him.

The girl refused very decisively, pointing to the dance floor where it was impossible to see who was who, "No, and my friend." ”

Morris moved over and sat down with the girl again, "What about me, am I lucky enough to be your friend?"

I have to say that Morris does have some capital, and his pretty good outfit and his somewhat flamboyant expression can indeed make some thrill-seeking girls have some interest, especially those good girls. The more ruthless those girls are suppressed on weekdays, the more ruthless they indulge here.

The girl shifted to the side again, "I don't like to make friends with strangers. ”

The more the girl dodged, the more Maurice found it amusing, and the more his heart itched. Not to mention that people have a slut factor in their bones, and none of the Morris sent to the door on the dance floor look down on him, but he is so unwilling to communicate with him in depth, the more he hopes to be able to get it, what is this not cheap? Of course, if it sounds good, it is a man's desire to conquer, men are not interested in things that are not difficult, only insurmountable things, conquer there is pleasure.

"My name is Maurice, and people know me!", Maurice moved again, "Look, you know my name, then we're friends now!"

The girl sneered, "I don't know you, and besides, please stay away from me, I don't like you like this." ”

Again and again, he was coldly rejected by the same girl, and even Morris was a little embarrassed. He's thick-skinned, yes, but this attitude is too hurtful! Just as he was considering whether to use other means, the girl's friends might have come back tired of dancing.

There were three people, two girls and one boy. All three of them were covered in sweat, and one of the girls was still wearing tight clothes, and the two bulges on her chest were shaking and making people a little dizzy. Morris glanced at it, licked the corners of his mouth, and shifted his gaze to the faces of the three men.

They were all very young young men, with a bookish look that had not entered society, and the best of God's youth was painted on their faces, which made Maurice feel jealous.

He was young, too, but not anymore.

The boy glanced at Morris in some surprise and asked the girl, "Are you friends?"

Without waiting for the girl to reply, Morris stood up and held out his hand, "Yes, we are friends, and it is a pleasure to meet you." ”

The boy paused for a moment, as if he was not quite familiar with such adult etiquette, and reached out a little sluggishly to shake Maurice's hand. It may have been that the sudden use of adult etiquette gave him the illusion that he had grown up, and that he sat down beside Morris in a friendly way.

"I've never heard Nasha say she has a friend like you, what's your name?", the boy's unintentional appearance made Morris feel very funny, this is a person with education and culture!

Morris hooked his finger behind him, turned around and commanded, and then said: "My name is Morris, I still have a little face in Turnier, if you need any help, you can come to me at any time." As he spoke, Morris's attendant brought a bottle of wine, and the boys and girls' eyes lit up when they saw it.

He held it in his hand as if showing off, and said with some smugness: "Jindian, there are places where you can sell eighteen bottles!", eighteen yuan is enough to reach the lowest income level of the middle class in Turnaire City, in other words, this bottle of wine is equal to a middle class, two ordinary workers for a month's salary! He opened the lid fluently, smiled and asked, "Do you want a glass?"