The loudest protester was a sharp-faced woman, Aunt Green.

Holding her grandson Till in one hand and placing the other on her hip, she fearlessly yelled at Hawson Wer,

"If we don't have enough, the patrol team isn't allowed to take anything! Whoever takes it, I'll record it and call the police!"

Seeing someone take the lead, others gathered the courage to join in:

"Yeah! Call the police!"

"This is robbery! What gives you the right to take other people's things?"

"The patrol team can break into the apartments, but the supplies must be shared equally among everyone!"

...

A group of old women suddenly found strength in numbers and grew bolder.

They shouted with vigor:

"Share equally? Don't you know to respect the elderly? Those over 60 should get more!"

"All supplies should be split fairly! And where's that Slave Collector guy? Stand up! You've got so much food at home—how can you bear to see us starving?"

"Yeah! Slave Collector, show yourself! Let me have a word with you!"

"If the patrol team is supposed to protect us, then they should provide everyone with enough food every day!"

...

Hawson Wer was dumbfounded.

All that effort hitting people was for nothing?

He walked up to Aunt Green, towering over her, and snarled,

"Old hag, do you think I'm negotiating with you?"

Aunt Green held her ground and retorted,

"If you dare touch me, I'll call the police—"

Slap!

Hawson Wer slapped Aunt Green across the face, knocking her to the ground and leaving her unconscious.

He roared at the crowd,

"Anyone else have an opinion?!"

The scene fell silent.

This guy is crazy!

He even dared to hit Aunt Green, the so-called "T0-ranked old slave" in this chaotic new world.

No one dared to speak.

The old women who had been shouting moments ago shrank back behind the others, trembling.

Aunt Green's grandson, Till, started crying loudly.

"Stop howling!" Hawson Wer yelled. "Keep it up, and I'll throw you off the building!"

Terrified, Till immediately shut his mouth.

Hawson Wer scanned the crowd.

"We need six people for the patrol team. Who wants to sign up?"

A young man hesitantly raised his hand.

"Captain Hawson, I'll join."

"Good!" Hawson Wer grinned and patted the man's shoulder.

"What's your name?"

"Yellow Yep," the man replied nervously.

With the first volunteer, more people followed, and soon six men had joined the patrol.

Once the patrol was formed, Hawson Wer began forcibly collecting "management fees."

"Everyone must pay the fee. If not, don't blame me if we break into your apartment to collect it ourselves!"

The hallway erupted into chaos:

"Captain Hawson, this is all the food I have left! Please don't take it!"

"Captain Hawson, my child is still starving! Don't rob me!"

"This is mine! You can't take it! No! Don't hit me! Fine, fine, take it!"

...

Faced with the scarcity of food, the survivors in the building quickly split into two classes.

The sounds of beating, crying, and cursing filled the air.

Those who hadn't joined the patrol team began regretting their decision.

How did I fall for this scam and come to this damn trading market?

Even trying to leave wasn't an option anymore—Hawson Wer would just storm into their homes to rob them anyway.

Amidst the chaos, a voice rang out:

"Well, looks like it's lively here."

Hawson Wer looked up to see a man leisurely walking down the stairs with two beautiful women by his side.

The man looked incredibly healthy, and the two women—clearly well-dressed and glowing—stood out even more against the backdrop of hungry, disheveled female survivors.

The hallway fell silent.

Jason exclaimed excitedly,

"Look! Boss, that's Shirley lnr! That guy must be Slave Collector!"

"That guy? Isn't he just the convenience store clerk from downstairs?"

"Damn! So it's him—a measly clerk pretending to be a big shot in the group!"

...

Under the predatory gazes of the men, Shirley lnr and Monroe Anne clung tightly to James Lon's arms, clearly nervous.

But James Lon remained calm.

With his perception fully activated, he could see everyone's aura.

Most people's auras were yellow with faint hints of red—just minor hostility.

But Hawson Wer was different. His aura burned a deep crimson, radiating pure malice.

Grinning, Hawson Wer sneered,

"So it's you, kid! Pay the management fee now—half of your food!"

This fool really showed up—and even brought his women!

Both of them are mine now!

"Half?" James Lon gently patted the hands of the two women, signaling them to let go. They obediently stepped aside.

"Exactly! And that black Nephelium you have—hand it over too!" Hawson Wer said greedily.

James Lon smiled as he approached Hawson Wer. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed his neck.

Hawson Wer tried to dodge, but James Lon's speed was terrifying—he couldn't react in time.

"Let go—" Hawson Wer tried to yell, but before he could finish, his consciousness faded into darkness.

Crack!

James Lon snapped Hawson Wer's neck with a swift motion.

Hawson Wer's head hung limply to the side.

"That's it?" James Lon let go, his tone indifferent.

Hawson Wer's lifeless body collapsed with a thud.

The hallway fell deathly silent.

Everyone was in shock.

Hawson Wer... is dead?

This was murder!

Even beating someone was one thing—but to kill them outright?

Jason swallowed hard, trembling.

He knew how strong Hawson Wer was, yet James Lon had killed him effortlessly.

He must've eaten an ability fruit. That's the only explanation!

James Lon smiled brightly and turned to the crowd, speaking cheerfully:

"No need to be afraid, everyone. Hawson Wer was robbing your food, so I've avenged you."

But his sunny demeanor only made the crowd more fearful.

This convenience store clerk is the real monster!

Some people, however, began to see him differently.

Perhaps James Lon wasn't so bad—maybe he even had a sense of justice.

Aunt Green regained consciousness, clutching her swollen face, and began laughing hysterically:

"Good! Kill him! Kill him!"

James Lon glanced at the large bag of food Hawson Wer had collected and smiled in satisfaction.

The bag contained a mix of items—exactly what he needed to expand his variety of supplies.

Aunt Green hurriedly pointed to the bag and demanded,

"Give it back to us!"

James Lon blinked innocently.

"Give what back?"

"That bag—it's ours!" Aunt Green said expectantly.

James Lon shook his head.

"No, it clearly belonged to Hawson Wer."

Others chimed in,

"Young man, that bag has our stuff!"

"Yeah, the patrol team stole it from us!"

James Lon kicked Aunt Green aside and said with a smirk,

"Take it up with him, then. What does it have to do with me?"

The crowd's hearts sank.

Hawson Wer is dead. How are we supposed to take it up with him?

This James Lon isn't any better!

Frustrated, they turned their anger on the remaining patrol members.

The patrol members froze, terrified.

Without Hawson Wer leading them, they were left to face the enraged crowd alone.

Survivors who'd been robbed were especially furious:

"Wror, give me back my sausages!"

"You heartless bastard! That was my last egg—how could you take it?"

"Quick, return my instant noodles!"

"Damn it, that was my last loaf of bread!"

"Kyle, we've been neighbors for ten years. How could you rob me?"

The patrol members tried to escape, but the crowd cornered them.

It didn't take long for someone to discover food hidden by one of the patrol members.

Anger boiled over, and someone kicked Jason. The rest of the crowd swarmed, and chaos erupted:

"Stop! Don't hit me!"

"Help!"

"It hurts!"

...