John Lawrence unexpectedly broke down in tears. He was well aware of the prison’s rules, yet his sudden suggestion to switch cells stemmed from a genuine fear of Charlie. However, upon further reflection, he realized the prison guard’s perspective held some truth. In this prison, the inmates disapproved of rule-breakers, and even if he did manage to change cells, he would still likely find himself ostracized.


    Overwhelmed with emotion, he choked out, “I was just kidding earlier. If I don’t change, then I won’t change even if it costs me my life.” …”


    The prison guardforted him with a pat on the shoulder before addressing the group, “Alright everyone, let’s head to the cafeteria.”


    At hismand, the inmates formed a line and exited the cell, joining other prisoners as they made their way to the dining area.


    As they walked, Charlie scanned the crowd, hoping to spot Peter Zhou, but he had no luck. Meanwhile, Peter Zhou observed a diverse mix of inmates heading to the cafeteria, their various skin tones and age ranges evident. It was clear that Brooklyn Prison housed a significant number of gang members, many adorned with tattoos and boasting muscr builds.<h3 style="background-color:DodgerBlue">


    Charlie also noticed that numerous prisoners bore visible injuries, some wrapped in bandages and others using crutches, suggesting they had endured violence. It made sense why the guard had seemed indifferent to the wounded inmates in his cell.


    The cafeteria at Brooklyn Prison was expansive, capable of amodating up to two thousand prisoners for meals simultaneously.


    Once the guards ushered everyone inside, they retreated beyond the iron gate, sealing it behind them and granting the prisoners some autonomy.<fn58bb> Original content can be found at ?ovelFind</fn58bb>


    The inmates not only ate but were also responsible for preparing the meals for everyone.


    While waiting in line for their food, Dean leaned over to Charlie and said, “Listen, you can’t just sit anywhere during meals. Each area has regrs. The seats by the south window are mostly imed by the bosses of the two prison districts and their followers. We’re only allowed to sit by the window on the north side. Sure, itcks sunlight, but the view is decent.”


    Curious, Charlie inquired, “Is there a boss here in Brooklyn Prison?”


    Dean shook his head, responding, “The boss of District One is Gustavo Sanchez. He doesn’t regard us small-time gangsters highly and forbids us from mingling with the boss of District Two. We wouldn’t dare cross that line, or else we’d have to deal with the District Two boss—he has more seniority, being from a New York gang.”


    Charlie asked, “If Gustavo Sanchez looks down on you, why doesn’t he allow you to coborate with other bosses?”


    Dean exined, “Gustavo has too many enemies. It’s rumored that during his rise in Mexico, he was responsible for the deaths of thousands, including many officials. There are countless people in Mexico who want revenge against him, so he’s very vignt about his safety in prison. Any gang that forms in his district poses a threat, especially if they try to ally with District Two. He issues death threats to anyone who even thinks about forming a gang. He has his own armed forces in Mexico, and if you cross him, he won’t hesitate to wipe out your entire family. We can’t afford to provoke him.”


    Charlie nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Just then, Dean whispered, “Sanchez ising!”


    Charlie followed Dean’s gaze and saw a group of brown-skinned Mexicans striding purposefully forward, pushing others aside. Among them was a short, stout middle-aged man, approximately 1.65 meters tall, who walked by with an impassive expression, nked by several brown-skinned bodyguards.


    Dean whispered to Charlie, “All of Sanchez’s bodyguards are elite fighters he has personally selected to ensure his protection.”


    Charlie wasn’t intimidated by Sanchez; he had dealt with Mexican criminal organizations before and found them no different from gangs elsewhere, albeit often more ruthless and devoid of moral boundaries.


    Back in Mexico, Charlie had sessfully dismantled an entire criminal group. Though they were known for their brutality, theirbat skills were subpar. They thrived on overpowering ordinary civilians, but in the presence of someone like him, they were far from a match.


    This time around, Charlie’s purpose in Brooklyn Prison wasn’t about meting out justice; he was there to find Zhou Liangyun from Ji Qingtang, known as Peter Zhou in his father’s old photograph. The prison’s hierarchy and its bosses were of little concern to him.


    He turned to Dean and asked, “Is the all-knowing Lucas around?”


    Dean scanned the room before pointing to a slender young man in the distance. “That’s Lucas,” he said.


    At that moment, Lucas had just entered the cafeteria and was standing in line behind Charlie, quietly chatting with the prisoners beside him.