America: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 332 - 189: The Stinking Poor Ghost Begs in Los Angeles

Allen Zhang followed him to the backyard and glanced at the black van riddled with bullet holes, its appearance ghastly.

The glass windows were shattered all over the ground, and the tires had been blown out; even the bumper was bent out of shape.

"Forget it, let’s just leave this car here; it’s not exactly drivable." After much deliberation, Allen Zhang chose to abandon it. One cannot be too greedy.

With the van’s pitiful state, you might dare to gift it, but he wouldn’t dare drive it on the highway into the city.

The State Police aren’t just loafing around.

You can fire guns in the woods, and the State Police can’t do anything about it, but driving a van that’s almost falling apart so blatantly on the road, that’s truly disrespecting people. It shows utter disregard for the most basic respect between individuals.

"Go back in and take another thorough look. Don’t miss the pockets on the corpses, just in case there’s money?" Allen Zhang reminded.

"Alrighty." Melvin nodded in agreement. Talk about the General Sect Leader being frugal.

Not even sparing the dead’s money!

Next, Melvin didn’t find much else, only a handful of US Dollars in loose change. Allen Zhang searched upstairs and downstairs and discovered a wine bottle in a glass cabinet.

He took it out for a closer look. The wine bottle was entirely different from today’s bottles, dark in color, and the label wasn’t paper. It only had the year, name of the wine, and the place of origin.

It was marked with a production date from 1778 and had a "Th.J." signature.

Allen Zhang remembered this signature; clearly, it came from Thomas Jefferson’s personal wine cellar of the late President of the United States.

What a pity, had it been a full bottle of red wine, its price could have been auctioned for over One Hundred Thousand Dollars, but now, with only an empty bottle, its real value was reduced significantly, only worth a few thousand US Dollars.

But even an ant’s flesh is still flesh.

Seeing nothing else of value here, Allen Zhang let Melvin keep the loose change and took him out the door. First, they moved all the munitions to the back of the Jeep, then went to the cattle pen on the ranch and herded all the cows out.

"Boss, from here to the ranch in the small town, it’s more than ten kilometers. How long will it take us to drive the cattle there?" Seeing that the General Sect Leader was adamant about profiting from the beef, Melvin couldn’t help but try to persuade him.

"Are you stupid? Won’t we call the ranch hands to come and pick up the cattle halfway through?" Allen Zhang retorted. "Use your brain. We drive the cattle just so we’re not associated with the crime scene on this ranch. The cattle ran off, we found them, and then we sell them. Isn’t that perfectly reasonable?"

"Okay, then." Melvin pondered, finding the reason barely passable. Immediately, he began driving the twelve head of cattle, while Allen Zhang led the way in the Jeep, and Melvin leisurely herded the cattle from behind.

After half an hour, they drove the herd to a lush area of grass and water, letting them eat their fill. Allen Zhang also searched for a few ranches in small towns on the online map and made calls to inquire. He contacted the slaughterhouse as well.

But learning that the slaughterhouse currently only accepted batches of over 50 head of cattle and only paid 3.6 US Dollars per kilogram of meat, Allen Zhang immediately discarded the idea of sending the bovine brothers to the slaughterhouse.

"You’re quite lucky to have survived gunshots."

He then asked each ranch about their buying prices; they said they could drive over ten kilometers to pick up the cattle, offering 4 US Dollars per kilogram for bulls over 300 pounds, while the price was less than 4 Dollars for cows and calves.

Allen Zhang looked and saw they were all sturdy bulls, each weighing more than 300 pounds.

He promptly made an arrangement for them to come and collect the cattle.

Ranching cattle really doesn’t make much money.

Feed costs, land fees, management fees, and a cow’s profit is only two to three hundred US Dollars from calf to adult. A hundred head of cattle barely makes over twenty thousand US Dollars; it’s all about volume profit. If there aren’t enough cows, it’s not even as good as collecting cans in the city for a few days.

Truth be told, at these prices, you’d have made a fortune in the Old West.

But in modern times, it’s a tough way to make a few bucks from a dozen head of cattle; honestly, it’s not as profitable as a load of goods or munitions! No wonder the ranches are barely secured, and even the fences and electric nets are just for show.

While waiting here, Allen Zhang also took out his phone and contacted Blitz. He was informed that a buyer had been found for the jewelry and gold valued at One Hundred Thousand Dollars, but they needed personnel to deliver to different locations.

Allen Zhang: Contact Dominic and request twenty hands from him. Save the chance to earn money for those in the team who are eager can collectors, so they can see they’ve got ample opportunities for advancement. This will make them work harder and strive for a better tomorrow!

Blitz: ...

Do you have to make it sound so fresh and noble?

But this was indeed a good arrangement, allowing team members to earn money while the General Sect Leader saves some expenses, and incidentally, it also serves as an audition to cultivate talent. More importantly, the General Sect Leader always keeps his word by actually paying the money!

It’s already a boon for a bunch of bankrupt vagrants to find work. What more do they need, a bicycle?

Blitz: OK, I’ll arrange it, but how much do you think is appropriate for their share of the profits?

Allen Zhang: Just delivering goods won’t take much of their time. A daily wage of One Hundred Dollars per person is already quite generous. Twenty people will be Two Thousand Dollars.