Chapter One: Well, What a Surprise!

Page 1/3
1996, New York, USA.
Bronx, Arthur Avenue, inside a supermarket.
A Black man had just dashed out the door, clutching goods he hadn’t paid a cent for. The thrill of his “purchase” was still written across his face when suddenly, a gun was pressed against his temple from the side.
“Hey man, calm down, don’t shoot,” he stammered, fear etched into every feature as he raised his hands. In the corner of his eye, he saw that the gun was held by a tall, handsome white man, his nose straight and his features sharply defined.
Luca Greco looked utterly at ease. He jerked his head toward the supermarket entrance, signaling the man to go back inside and prodded him with the gun all the way to the register. “You have to pay for what you take. You want to do it yourself, or should I break your hand and help you?”
The Black man was dumbfounded.
He’d thought it was some old enemy—turns out it was just about not paying for groceries?
What a trivial matter.
“I’ll pay, I’ll pay right now.” He hurriedly fished out a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket and handed them to Luca. “Man, this is all I’ve got.”
“I told you to pay the supermarket, why are you handing it to me?”
“...”
The man was at a loss. Was this guy a cop or just incredibly righteous?
Intimidated by Luca’s menacing presence, he swallowed hard, grabbed his wallet, and under the unamused gaze of the cashier, dumped a handful of loose change onto the counter. “Keep the change.”
“Remember to pay next time,” Luca said with a gentle smile, but his eyes were cold as ice. “This supermarket belongs to the Lucchesi Family. If I catch you stealing again, you can save your money for your next life.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Get lost.”
The man slunk out, and only when he was well away did he finally breathe easy.
This place was Lucchesi territory?
He glanced back at the sign above the supermarket, and resolved never to “shop for free” here again.
...
[You stopped a theft, defending the peace of the supermarket.]
[You have gained 3 skill points.]
Inside the supermarket owner’s office, Luca Greco glanced at the notification on his interface, then continued his cheerful tea and conversation with the Chinese proprietor.
“Luca, I can’t thank you enough,” Uncle Biao said, his face warm and jovial. “Since you warned those thugs, hardly any troublemakers dare mess with the store anymore! It’s all thanks to you—otherwise, I’d have had to close up shop by now.”
He had been planning to sell the supermarket, get married, and move to the countryside with his wife to start a farm and live a quieter life, away from the struggles of city business.
Running a business in New York without powerful backing was next to impossible.
But in the past two months since Luca had stepped in and disciplined a gang of freeloaders, the store had enjoyed rare peace.
“I ought to pay you for your help. I can’t let you work for free—my conscience won’t allow it,” Uncle Biao said, looking at Luca with a trace of anxiety.
He’d made this offer before, but Luca had refused, leaving Uncle Biao wary that perhaps Luca had an ulterior motive.
After all, the Lucchesi Family was one of New York’s five major crime syndicates.
“Talking money ruins friendships,” Luca waved him off with a smile. “I’ve always liked standing up for what's right. My father raised me to value harmony above all, that harmony brings prosperity, and I’ve never forgotten. Uncle Biao, if you see me as a friend, let’s not talk about money.”
Uncle Biao could barely maintain his composure. You, a Sicilian, talking about harmony?
Still, he judged by deeds, not words. In these months, Luca had regularly brought his men to protect the store, stopped multiple disturbances, and never once asked for a protection fee—in fact, he even paid for his own purchases, more principled than the NYPD.
Otherwise, Uncle Biao would never have accepted Luca, a mafioso, as a close friend.
“Of course you’re my friend,” Uncle Biao said with a smile. “Fine, no talk of money. Tonight, I’m treating you to dinner—we’ll feast and drink until we drop.”
“Until we drop!”
Carl—Luca—raised his teacup with a grin.
Just then, his interface popped up with new information.
[Character Card Unlocked: Uncle Biao]
[Uncle Biao: D]
[Source: ‘Rumble in the Bronx’]
[Skill: None]
[Bond: Close Friend]
...
[Luca Greco]
[Skills: Firearms Mastery LV5, Assassination Mastery LV6, Hand-to-Hand Combat LV5, Driving Mastery LV4, Fishing LV2...]
Page 1/3

Page 2/3
[Current Skill Points: 5]
[Current Skill Shards: 18]
This “Ambassador of Peace” system had awakened in Luca a year ago, right after he broke through the mystery of his birth and recovered memories of his past life.
As the name suggests, the system awarded Luca for defending peace: the most common reward was skill points, which could be spent to level up various abilities.
There were also ability shards, which, once collected in sufficient quantity, could be exchanged for the skills of character cards.
Character cards ranged from D to SSR; the more powerful the card, the more abilities it offered. D-level cards typically yielded no learnable skills.
Luca didn’t know of many SSR cards yet, but Uncle Biao had a nephew in Hong Kong—surely he was an SSR card?
That was the reason Luca had deliberately befriended Uncle Biao, nurturing their bond. Only by reaching a certain level of friendship could he unlock a character’s skills, and for that legendary nephew far off in Hong Kong, Luca had been preparing for a long time.
He was eager for the arrival of the “Furniture Store War God.”
...
After sitting in the supermarket for a while, Luca took his leave. Right after he walked out, a tall man entered.
He was imposing, dressed in a long trench coat, wearing a round hat and sunglasses, and carrying a large suitcase.
His face was cold, his movements soundless—he was like a ghost.
...
Luca drove around New York for a while, collecting high-interest debts from a few gambling addicts—one of his daily chores as a debt collector for the family.
On the way back, he passed a three-way intersection where a high-rise towered above the street.
—The Continental Hotel, from ‘John Wick’, a chain offering one-stop services for assassins.
Behind the Continental was the High Table, a council of twelve crime lords who ruled over most of the world’s criminal organizations.
In this world ruled by the underworld, the High Table was the supreme authority, feared by all, including John Wick.
John Wick, known as the “Boogeyman,” “Baba Yaga,” “The Man You Send to Kill the Boogeyman,” “The Slow-Motion God of War,” “King of Chaos”...
Without question, an SSR card.
Though Luca had not met the Boogeyman, he’d heard much of him in the criminal underworld, and had also heard of his old friend Caine, known as the “Blind Assassin,” “Ten Punches a Second Master Ip.”
Surely, another SSR card.
Collecting these SSR cards was Luca’s ultimate hobby.
...
He parked outside a bar—one of the Lucchesi Family’s businesses, managed by one of their capos, Marigio.
A capo was middle management in the family, similar to a squad leader, overseeing a crew of “soldiers” and associates.
Luca was only an associate, but thanks to his outstanding performance and his father’s connections, he was on good terms with Marigio.
Inside, Luca made his way to a round table in the corner, which offered a clear view of the entire hall.
A slightly overweight middle-aged man sat at the table. When he saw Luca, he lazily lifted his eyelids, patted the empty seat beside him, and motioned for Luca to sit.
Luca handed over the cash and receipts he’d collected—a thick wad that Marigio weighed in his hand before pulling off a small stack and handing it back to Luca.
“What took you so long today? Run into trouble?” Marigio asked.
Luca pocketed the money with a smile. “Stood up for justice on the way—taught a few freeloaders a lesson.”
Marigio: “...”
Man, you’re this obsessed with doing the right thing? Why aren’t you a cop?
Over the past year, Luca’s nicknames—“Ambassador of Peace,” “Peacemaker,” “Mediator”—had spread across the Bronx; everyone knew of this hot-blooded member who always intervened in disputes.
Some found him annoying, but with the Lucchesi Family backing him, none dared touch him—and even if they did, they couldn’t beat him.
Eventually, smaller gangs even started seeking Luca out to mediate conflicts, and many shops willingly paid protection money to the family, knowing Luca would actually keep trouble away—he was more effective than the police.
The thugs might ignore the NYPD, but they wouldn’t dare cross a made man.
—Luca would always give them an offer they couldn’t refuse.
The Lucchesi Family’s reputation had never been better.
Marigio was at a loss—after decades in this business, it was his first time winning public approval.
“Luca, how long have you been with me now?”
“Twelve years. Since I was ten, after my father went to prison, I’ve been with you.”
Luca answered truthfully.
Page 2/3

Page 3/3
He was born into an Italian family, both parents Sicilian—his bloodline was impeccable.
His father had been a soldier in the Lucchesi Family all his life, until he was murdered in prison.
His mother, unable to bear this life, had divorced and left New York when Luca was only four; her whereabouts were unknown.
Luca owed his place with Marigio to his father’s “guarantee.” When his father was sent to prison, he’d entrusted Luca to Marigio, hoping the boy would grow up strong in the family’s care.
“Twelve years already,” Marigio sighed. “When your dad brought you to me, you were just a little kid, barely old enough to shave. Now you’re the Ambassador of Peace.”
At the mention of that title, Marigio almost lost his composure.
Suppressing the urge to make a wisecrack, he continued,
“All these years, you’ve done a lot for the family—earned your stripes and proved your loyalty. With your record, you’re ready to become a full-fledged member.”
With admiration on his chubby face, Marigio handed Luca a photograph. “There’s a job for you. Do this right, and I’ll sponsor you to become a made man!”
The day had finally come.
Luca was elated—he was about to get his official stripes!
Becoming a made man brought real protection; anyone who came for him would face the whole Lucchesi Family. They’d have to weigh the consequences.
Just like the Continental Hotel, where killing is forbidden—if anyone dies there, the High Table will hunt the killer to the ends of the earth.
Luca wanted that kind of security.
He planned to climb higher, take control of the family, and use it as a springboard to get into the High Table itself, stretching his influence worldwide.
A seat at the High Table was one of his goals.
Defending the underworld’s peace was still peace, wasn’t it?
Without a strong fist, who could defend peace?
Suppressing his excitement, Luca studied the photo. “Who’s this?”
The image showed a fat man with a round face, squinting eyes, and a brutal look.
“Karn Jones,” Marigio said, a cold smile curling around his cigarette. “This guy’s an out-of-town dealer, selling on our turf without respect. I sent people to talk, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Luca picked up the photo. “What do you need—take him out?”
“He’s got outside connections. Killing him would be messy. I just want to have a little chat,” Marigio shrugged. “But he’s arrogant. I think only you can calm him down enough to talk.”
Decades ago, after the families formed the “Commission,” the days of constant warfare ended. New rules for “maintaining peace and mutual development” were established, and internal killings were forbidden—at least officially.
Luca nodded his understanding.
“Oh, I’ve arranged for a few associates to help you.”
Marigio craned his neck and shouted across the bar, “Jimmy, Henry, get over here!”
Luca turned and saw two tall, thin white men approach.
His interface flashed with new prompts.
[Discovered Character Card: Henry Hill (Locked)]
[Henry: C]
[Source: ‘Goodfellas’]
[Skill: Shameless Schemer]
[Bond: Stranger]
...
[Discovered Character Card: James ‘Jimmy’ Conway (Locked)]
[Jimmy: C]
[Source: ‘Goodfellas’]
[Skill: Greedy Operator]
[Bond: Stranger]
Luca’s expression flickered with surprise.
Goodfellas—indeed!
Boss, you’ve sent me two backstabbers to help?
Page 3/3