Yellowstone: Wind in the Smoke

"It's so cold..."

In a dark and cold environment, a young man slowly opened his eyes, suppressed his usual breathing, and cautiously scanned his surroundings with heightened awareness.

It seemed like he was in an abandoned factory based on what he could see, smell, and feel. There were a few massive machines lined up and apparently forgotten in this factory, situated on the outskirts of the city. The only noticeable thing here was the air, filled with a rusty scent.

Boom!

Outside the factory, thunder roared, strong winds blew, and the raging storm seemed to be reaching its worst. Each lightning strike illuminated the dark surroundings, and the earth shook with every thunderclap.

Heavy raindrops pounded the roof of the factory, making a crackling sound as they hit the metal surface.

A sudden gust of cold wind swept across the young man's wet body, making him shiver. It had been many years since he had felt this way, and in a strange sense, these sensations were even pleasant.

But before he could process anything further, a fragment of memory flashed through his mind...

That night, a young man who was about to head home took a car, but inexplicably, he was driven to the outskirts of the city. Then, the taxi driver dropped him off at this factory after spraying him with a strange substance.

"Am I that young man? I'm quite attractive, and I'd say I even look intimidating. It's odd for someone with a face like mine, which seems to come from a well-established family, to have enemies." The young man touched his face, savoring the memory he had just recalled. "Well, since this body and these memories don't originally belong to me, the memory fragment is actually from a third-person perspective... I'm something like a spectator with a god's perspective right now, but that's more convenient. I can handle the situation personally and make my own decisions."

In the driver's actions, there was no intent to rob him, and judging by the young man's expression, it was clear both parties knew the situation's true intent.

While the young man was thinking, the factory door slowly opened, and the sound of rusty metal grinding against itself was harsh and grating.

A beam of light from a flashlight shot into the factory, sweeping across the space.

After finding nothing, the sound of metal friction rang out again, accompanied by a series of eerie noises.

The figure at the entrance not only closed the door but locked it with an iron chain.

The young man hid behind a large machine inside, glancing around, but he didn't find a second exit. Not that it mattered to him. He picked up a rusty steel pipe about a meter long that was nearby and swung it a few times to get a feel for the weight.

"The bodies of ordinary people are easy to kill, especially men over forty." The young man glanced at the slender figure of his attacker and couldn't help but smirk.

In his memories, the driver stood about 6'1" tall, was experienced in the art of killing, and wielded a sharp machete. The combat abilities of the two sides were clearly not on the same level for obvious reasons.

"Dante, come out and let's talk." The driver's raspy voice called out from the entrance as he slowly advanced. "Don't worry, I won't kill you. Come out quickly."

"Dante? Is that my current name?" Dante slicked back his wet hair. "Alright, if you want to play, then let's play."

At the mention of his name, fragments of memory flooded his mind again... His name was Dante Dutton, the fifth son of the Dutton family from Montana. He was 21 years old and had recently expanded his operations after taking control of a cannabis business across New York.

After digesting the memory fragments, Dante's expression shifted as he realized how similar he was to this guy. For a moment, he couldn't help but curse as his memories became clearer—who he was and who wanted to kill him: "Sir, I'm going to wipe out your whole family! You'll beg for death tonight, you damned son of a bitch!"

Before Dante could greet his pursuer with the dirtiest words he could think of, a beam of light followed the voice and landed on his hiding spot.

Dante raised his eyebrows slightly but didn't run. He stretched his limbs a few times, stepped out from behind the machine, and silently stared at the tall figure, not far away, who was holding the flashlight.

The man's image was no different from the memory. He was tall and strong, around 40 years old, with dark skin and an unshaven beard. The tattoos on his body hinted at the life he led—the life of a gangster.

"So, are you done hiding now?" The driver sneered, gripping the machete tightly in his right hand, the cold steel gleaming under the light. When he saw the steel pipe in Dante's hand, he smirked, "Oh, so you're planning to fight me to the death?"

"Just so you know, before I kill you, my men in the city will hunt down your father at that nursing home and kill him. I'll personally find your daughter, wife, lover, and even your friends to kill them one by one. Now that I think about it, your daughter, if she's still pure, though I doubt it, might be useful for other things." Dante said calmly. By now, all his memories had returned, and strangely enough, he was very much like the person he had always been in this world, a demon to his enemies.

"Did you call someone?" The middle-aged man repeated these words, then pulled a wet cell phone from his pocket and sarcastically said, "Does this look like your phone?"

The man loosened his grip and dropped the cell phone to the ground. A mocking smile appeared on his face as he asked, "You're too careless. Why do you always have to travel alone? If your drivers had taken you to the train station, you wouldn't be in this situation. I guess that boss mentality only shows up when you're doing business, not when you're watching your own back."

"Pfft... Ha, ha, ha! You're one funny son of a bitch." Dante couldn't help but laugh hysterically as if he'd just heard the funniest joke ever. He bent over, clutching his stomach, mocking the man.

"What's so funny?" The expression on the man's face gradually turned cold. "First of all, you left your phone in the car. There's no way you could've called your men."

"That's why you're toying with me like a cat playing with a mouse, right?" Dante suddenly raised his voice, changing from a calm tone to one filled with coldness, interrupting the man with a strange smile on his face.

"What do you mean?" The man felt something was wrong. His eyes widened with a hint of fear. "Do you have a second cell phone?"

"Idiot, you're really a fool to think killing me here would be smart." Dante shook his head slightly and said, "You took me from the city to the suburbs. It's a long way, my dear friend. Unless I'm stupid enough to travel alone, I wouldn't have taken your boss's entire business."

Dante stopped smiling just for amusement. His grin changed to one full of excitement as he said, "But now I know who can't follow the perfect business system I created for all of you. My men will wipe out your entire filthy gang, even if you manage to kill me, because I sent them a message the moment I saw that stupid gang tattoo on your face."

Tattoos were like signs for rival gang members, saying, Look, I belong to this family. Dante, who had made deals with drug dealers to create a system free of victims, gang wars, or police attention, had completely taken over New York City, and now that system was in place for anyone who wanted to keep selling.

Of course, Dante was the city's biggest seller and would continue doing it safely in large quantities.

But of course, there were those who thought he was just a front for his boss, who had taken the lead. That's why this gang was able to track him down—or maybe it was the other way around, to clear his enemies from his path?

Dante didn't remember much, but now that they had control, he would let the situation unfold.

"No... Impossible!" The man felt his strength leave him, panic spreading across his face. "Then you... then you...!"

He was stunned, and suddenly his eyes lit up: "If you sent a message, there must be a record of it in your phone. You can't lie to me!"

Saying this, the man quickly bent down to pick up the cell phone that had fallen to the ground.

He desperately wanted to know if Dante was lying. Once what Dante said turned out to be true, everything would be over!

Just as the man bent down to grab the phone and pressed the power button on the right side to light up the screen, a strong gust of wind hit him from above!

Crack!

The steel pipe, as thick as a baseball bat, struck the man's head hard, producing a terrifying, muffled sound. He fell to the ground, screaming in pain.

Even though there was a significant difference in strength between the two sides, in the end, they were humans who would be stunned by a blow to the head.

When the steel pipe hit the same spot again, the man's head was crushed and bleeding, and he nearly passed out on the spot.

How could he still have the ability to defend himself?

"You're an idiot if you still don't believe me!" Dante raised the steel pipe and struck the man's head again. He wouldn't give his enemy a chance to fight back.

Crack! Crack! Crack!