Anqiluo pushed open the church doors.
Sunlight poured in, stretching his shadow across the floor.
To the women sitting on the benches, he looked almost unreal—standing against the light, like something divine.
Alexei turned at the sound.
For a moment, he didn't recognize him.
Without the bone armor, Anqiluo looked completely different. Casual clothes. Lean build. Clean-cut.
Like a college graduate.
Not the monster from last night.
Alexei almost made a joke.
Then he remembered.
And shivered.
Some things only made sense when you'd seen them yourself.
He stopped himself, took a silver case from one of his guards, and stepped forward respectfully.
"Priest," he said, handing it over. "One million dollars. My repentance."
Anqiluo opened his eyes slightly as he took the case.
A faint smile touched his face.
"Good," he said. "I can see your sincerity. Come inside."
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the church.
Alexei blinked.
"…Inside?"
He hesitated.
Was this actually a church?
"Yes," Anqiluo said, already losing patience. "How else are you going to repent? Or did you think this was just a transaction?"
He gave Alexei a shove toward the door.
"Your guards stay outside."
Alexei gritted his teeth.
Then nodded.
He motioned for his men to wait and walked inside.
Anqiluo wasn't worried.
Even if Alexei tried something—
The two clay golems by the entrance would handle it.
The next arrival followed quickly.
The same gang leader who had lied so smoothly the night before.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
Seeing Alexei already inside made the decision easy.
Besides, if he couldn't win yesterday, there was no chance today.
Better to walk in calmly.
At least he'd keep his reputation intact.
One by one, they came.
Half an hour later, Anqiluo stepped back into the church.
Everyone had arrived.
That saved him the trouble of going out again.
Total collected:
Twenty-five million dollars.
Inside, Alexei shifted nervously, his arm still in a cast.
He leaned toward a man beside him—a pimp named Riley.
"…Hey. What do we even say for repentance?"
Riley looked at him like he was an idiot.
"How would I know?"
"Aren't you religious?"
Riley snorted.
"You ever seen a church called Rasuma?"
Anqiluo ignored them.
He climbed onto the platform and sat down, clapping his hands once to get their attention.
"Good. Everyone looks awake," he said calmly. "I'm sure none of you slept well."
His tone was relaxed.
They had paid, after all.
No need to be harsh.
He didn't intend to kill them.
If he had, none of them would be here.
This place ran on its own rules.
Gangs were part of it.
He lit a cigar.
Didn't bother with appearances.
"I'm sure you all checked Byrd's place," he said. "Yes. I killed him."
He reached behind him, pulled out a plastic bag, and tossed Byrd's severed head onto the floor.
The room exploded into tension.
Every boss stiffened.
They had already seen the aftermath.
A crater.
No bodies.
Nothing left.
Not a missile.
Something worse.
Now they knew.
In the corner, the rescued women shrank back at the sight of the head.
Anqiluo looked at the room.
Different reactions.
Fear. Shock. Calculation.
His anger was gone.
Now, he was just stating facts.
"I found a prison under his house," he said. "He was trafficking people. Those women behind you were taken by him."
He raised his hand.
The bone staff appeared again.
Then he drove it into the ground beside the cross.
It sank straight through the concrete.
"For people like him," Anqiluo said calmly, "forgiveness is God's job."
He looked at them one by one.
"My job is to send them to Him."
Silence.
"You're gangsters. I don't care," he continued. "But I don't want to see traffickers in Hell's Kitchen again."
A pause.
"That includes anyone connected to Byrd."
Every man in the room felt it.
That staff.
If it hit them—
No one wanted to imagine it.
"Understood."
The response came almost in unison.
They didn't need convincing.
Even without Anqiluo, this crossed a line.
No one wanted their own family to end up like that.
"Good," Anqiluo said. "Then get out."
That was all.
No one argued.
They stood up one by one.
Repentance?
That could wait.
There was work to do.
As they moved toward the exit—
The church doors opened again.
A man in a sharp suit walked in.
Calm. Polished.
Like he belonged somewhere else entirely.
"Hello," he said. "Is this Rasuma Church?"