Chapter 1101: Shoot the Damned Balls

With a thud, the operating light in the surgery room went out. The people standing outside all stood up and spontaneously gathered by the operating room door.

The last seated person, Bob, stood up the moment the operating room doors opened.

He was surrounded by several core family members. The doctor, seeing so many imposing figures in the hallway, remained standing at the operating room entrance.

Bob gestured to his son, who immediately barked orders for the people to disperse, leaving only Bob and his close associates.

"Everyone is very concerned about Fran's condition, so... I hope you can understand."

The doctor could only nod. "Yes, I understand. Everyone hopes their loved ones can conquer death."

"So..." Bob pursed his lips. "How is he?"

The doctor was hesitant to speak, worried that telling the truth might offend Bob.

He initially didn't know who the patient was. Only after he started the operation and performed the thoracotomy did the hospital assistants inform him that the man on the table was the city's King of the Underworld, a high-ranking gang leader in the Federal underworld: Fran Perez

The head surgeon disliked dealing with gangsters. A former colleague of his had operated on a high-ranking gang figure, failed, and the ruthless gang members broke his hands.

That was fatal for a surgical doctor, worse than being killed outright!

Decades of effort and study were invested in those hands. Being crippled meant his life had no future.

His friend subsequently succumbed to alcoholism, divorced, and finally chose to jump to his death.

Since then, the head surgeon had a personal rule: he would not operate on gang members.

Yet, the hospital had deceived him, only revealing the patient's identity after he had completed the necessary pre-surgical procedures.

Of course, this could also be seen as a form of respect—limited respect.

He cursed the hospital staff internally but performed the surgery meticulously. Now, the questions from these gang members made it difficult to speak honestly.

He observed Bob's face, trying to gauge his reaction. Sensing his apprehension, Bob offered a calming smile. "We are different from those small-time players. Regardless of the outcome of the surgery, it has nothing to do with you."

"That is between him and God!"

Perhaps the statement worked, or perhaps Bob's demeanor genuinely impressed him. The doctor finally spoke softly, "The surgery was somewhat successful. The bullet tumbled inside him and severely damaged his right lung."

"I did my best to try and save more organs, but..." He shook his head. "We ultimately decided during the operation to remove the entire right lung."

The bullet entered near the left clavicle and exited through the right side of the back. The damaged part of the lung was critically injured.

If they had attempted to save the lung, they would have had to strip away the lower half of the right lung.

If Fran were young, in his twenties or thirties, they might have considered anastomosing the healthy lung tissue with the remaining upper portion to preserve more function.

However, the surgery itself was highly difficult in this era, and Fran was old. His recovery ability might not sustain him through the complete healing process.

Ultimately, they chose to fully remove the right lung. This way, Fran's body wouldn't waste energy trying to repair an organ that couldn't be saved.

He only needed to focus his energy on healing the other wounds.

Bob frowned slightly as he listened to the uncomfortable medical details but continued to listen patiently.

"He will struggle to wake up quickly. Considering his advanced age, we actually prefer him to remain in this comatose state."

"Pain and emotion won't unnecessarily consume his energy if he remains unconscious, allowing his body to focus on recovery."

"As for when he will wake up, it will likely be tomorrow."

Hearing this, Bob was secretly disappointed. He wished the doctor would tell him Fran wouldn't wake up for a long time.

That way, he could immediately seize control of the family's immense power. He loved the feeling of power in his hands.

"Thank you very much. When can he fully recover?" He asked another crucial question.

The doctor immediately fell silent. This silence clearly signaled that the answer might not be good, yet for Bob, it seemed like favorable news.

"Please tell me the truth, Doctor."

The doctor shook his head slightly. "He will hardly recover to a normal state. We discovered a history of heavy smoking when we removed his lung. The entire lung was heavily coated in tar. His dependency on respiration will be higher than the average person's."

"Now, with half a lung missing and increased metabolic consumption, even if his recovery is good, he will need a wheelchair and oxygen to maintain a relatively high quality of life."

"Physical activities, like exercise, are out of the question for him. Even walking for twenty or thirty minutes, or prolonged work, is impossible."

Bob showed a look of regret. Only he knew how pleased he felt inside. Perhaps this was a preferable outcome.

Fran was alive, but he was now a cripple.

He knew Fran well. As one of Fran's closest associates, he understood the old man's obsession with power and his ruthlessness regarding authority.

Even Fran's own sons, if they showed they coveted the power in Fran's hands, Fran would move against them.

It might be a punishment or outright banishment to a remote location, ensuring they never touched his power again.

The older Fran got and the more incapacitated he became, the less willing he would be to release his grip on power. This, ironically, made things easier for Bob.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a checkbook. He wrote out $5,000 and handed it over. "Thank you for everything you've done for him. We are grateful for your help."

The doctor was about to refuse, but seeing the large number on the check, he realized that refusing was not a gentlemanly thing to do.

As he hesitated, unsure what to do, Bob tucked the check into his jacket pocket and patted it. "Call us if anything happens. Someone will handle it."

With that, he shook the doctor's hand. "See you later."

Now, he needed to deal with the escalating chaos outside.

The moment he turned, his expression instantly became serious, his eyes filled with ruthless intent.

How many years had it been? This was the first time since the Perez family became one of the Five Families that someone dared to attack them on their home turf in Old City!

As he walked out, he asked, "How many men were attacked? What about Paige? Why haven't I seen him?"

His son, who had been following closely, paused for a few seconds when asked about Paige. "I heard Paige was attacked on the way back to the estate. He has returned to the embrace of God."

After being hit by two machine guns at close range, even God couldn't save him!

"How many of the attackers did we catch?"

His son only responded with silence, confirming the bad news. "Did we not catch a single one?"

Bob, already outside the hospital, was so angry he laughed. "That sounds like a story a three-year-old would make up! When did the Perez family become so useless?"

The car slowly drove up and stopped in front of him. He opened the door, turned to his son and his associates. "Go find out. I want detailed numbers on our casualties, and I want to know why there is no news of the enemy."

"So many people couldn't have entered Old City without being noticed. Someone here provided them with assistance, hiding them."

"Go find that person, and make them understand the painful price of betraying the glory of Old City!"

He got into the car, and the motorcade sped away from the hospital entrance.

Bob was genuinely furious. He was more upset that they hadn't captured anyone than he was about Fran's attack. Their failure to capture anyone meant the enemy's understanding of the city was far superior to theirs!

So many enemies had operated right under their noses without being detected. What did that imply?

It implied someone was collaborating with the Lance family to target them!

F*!

Back at the estate, Bob immediately announced Fran's injuries and informed everyone that he would temporarily manage the family's affairs until Fran recovered.

While some people murmured their dissatisfaction, they ultimately acquiesced.

It was similar to how the Speaker of the House felt that the Vice President taking over after the President's death was inappropriate. They felt Bob's temporary takeover was inappropriate.

However, there was genuinely no better alternative right now. Fran's children were grown, but none had fully integrated into the family's core power structure.

They might struggle to manage the family's daily affairs, especially now, facing the aggressive Lance family. This required a capable and decisive leader.

Bob might not be the best candidate, but he was the most suitable.

Half an hour later, the stunned Perez family finally reacted. They mobilized massive patrols across the streets. Anyone they found suspicious or who didn't look like a good citizen was immediately apprehended and interrogated aggressively.

Some who resisted were beaten or taken away.

The police station's phone lines were jammed with emergency calls. The Bearded Director personally called Bob, his tone completely lacking politeness. "What are you doing?"

"Do you know how many people are calling to complain about your reckless behavior?"

"Bob, this is not your city. This is the Federal government's city. If you continue this, I will have my officers start arresting your people who are causing trouble."

Bob was already boiling with rage. A small-time figure he never took seriously dared to make "demands" of him. He immediately humiliated the Bearded Director.

"What are you, a nobody, to make demands of me?"

Before the Bearded Director could reply, Bob slammed the phone down.

In his mind, the Bearded Director, the Police Chief of Old City, was merely a minor figure the Mayor could easily dismiss.

The Perez family and the Mayor were more than just friends; their interests were closely intertwined.

Arguably, outside of the Mayor's parents, who gave him life, everything he currently possessed was tied to the Perez family. He couldn't possibly side against them.

One call from Bob, and the Bearded Director would be suspended. He held such minor figures in utter contempt.

Anyone wants to be respected and valued. The Bearded Director was no exception. After hanging up, his expression was furious. Being publicly humiliated and having his authority trampled on ignited his internal rage!

From his personal perspective, he strongly hoped Lance would win this gang war.

He had heard that Lance was generous and respectful to his own people and friends. He preferred to align with a man like Lance White rather than arrogant bastards like the Perez family.

He stewed in his anger for a moment, then picked up the phone again. "Send out more police officers. Arrest the Perez family members who are causing trouble!"

"What?"

"Resistance?"

"They are assaulting police officers, and you ask me what to do?"

"Can't you fight back?"

"Pull out the gun on your hip and pull the trigger! Shoot the damned balls!"