Everything in the red-light district is basically managed by the local gangs. They maintain order themselves, keep the environment in check, and even the police rarely intervene in such places. This place is practically a country within a country, a city within a city.

For a country, laws are necessary. The red-light district is no different; it has its own rules. Anyone who comes here to do business must abide by these rules.

Ethan Carter, an outsider, is a special case. Without the approval of the major powers in the red-light district, he privately obtained a permit from the government and opened this clinic here.

Since Ethan Carter's clinic opened a week ago in the red-light district, its profits have grown along with its reputation, gradually becoming the most profitable business on this street.

Not only that, Ethan Carter's clinic even operates across industries, selling products from health supplement stores as well. His "Xingyang Centipede Pill" is much more effective than Viagra, causing a significant drop in the income of the health supplement stores.

The clinics on the street that specialize in hymen repair have also seen a big decrease in profits because of Ethan Carter's "First Emperor Virgin Pill."

The most obvious area affected is the street where Ethan Carter's clinic is located.

In a dark corner not far from Ethan Carter's clinic, a woman—clearly not someone working in the special services industry—was pacing back and forth, holding a card in her hand.

A drunken man staggered over to the woman and slurred, "You... hi there, pretty lady. How much...?"

"Ah..." The woman let out a sharp scream, forgetting her earlier hesitation, and quickly ran into Ethan Carter's clinic.

"Don’t... don’t run..." The drunken man stumbled after her for a couple of steps. When he saw the woman enter the clinic, the drunkenness instantly vanished from his face. With a hint of fear in his eyes, he glanced at the clinic, cursed under his breath, "Damn!" and left with his bottle.

One night a week ago, on the day this clinic first opened, more than a dozen local thugs were all sent to the hospital by the seemingly gentle and refined Ethan Carter. Since then, the boss who controls this street in the red-light district has never shown up, as if tacitly allowing him to operate, or perhaps secretly investigating Ethan Carter's background and whether he has any powerful connections.

Although the drunken man wanted to find a woman to vent his desires, he still understood very well that there are some places you just can't barge into.

"Excuse me, is this a special clinic?" The woman who had run inside was still a bit unsettled. She looked at the man across from her, who was playing an online game, and hesitantly asked.

Ethan Carter slowly raised his head, looked the woman up and down, then slowly stood up. The strange gleam in his eyes gradually faded, and he smiled as he nodded, "Since you know the other name of this clinic, you must have been referred through certain channels. Hello! I am Ethan Carter, the owner of the special clinic!"

"Grace."

"Alright then, Miss Grace, please tell me directly why you’re here. Today’s online game update has a new map and new monsters. I need to get in early to grab the best gear before others do." Ethan Carter sat back down in his seat and very politely pointed out a sofa for Grace.

Grace could hardly believe what she was hearing—a legendary profession: assassin. Yet he was saying things like this.

Steadying herself, Grace walked up to Ethan Carter's desk, opened the small handbag she always carried, took out a photo, and placed it on Ethan Carter's desk. "I want to kill this person." The person in the photo was none other than Brian Harris, a real estate businessman who had just been reported in the newspapers a few days ago.

"Kill?" Ethan Carter smiled at Grace and said, "Miss, I think you’ve come to the wrong place. Killing is illegal, and you’d be hunted by the police. But I can pray for you, so that this person suddenly disappears permanently. How about that?"

Grace looked at the man in front of her—clearly a killer, yet insisting on calling it a permanent disappearance—half amused, half exasperated, and nodded slightly.

"Alright then!" Ethan Carter deftly took out a calculator and tapped in some numbers. "Got it! That’ll be one hundred thousand US dollars."

"One hundred thousand US dollars?" Grace looked troubled. If she had that much money, maybe she wouldn’t need to come here for help.

"No money? Sorry, I have a game to play, so I’ll have to excuse myself. Please close the door on your way out." Ethan Carter's gaze returned to his computer screen, as if the data on it was more attractive than the beauty in front of him.

"Dr. Carter..."

"The person you want to deal with is named Brian Harris, an outstanding businessman in the city in recent years. Even I, who just moved here, know about him. If he disappears, the government will definitely investigate thoroughly. I’m only charging you one hundred thousand US dollars—a very fair price."

"Dr. Carter, I only have fifty thousand dollars in savings. I’ll find a way to pay you the rest. Could you...?"