Anyone Dares Bully you, Call Uncles! novel Chapter 423

In a dimly lit room, the cat restrained for blood extraction suddenly convulsed and struggled. Its body twitched violently, kicking a tray placed next to its feet and sending it flying.

The tray contained some blood extraction tools, such as needles and blood bags, which clattered onto a nearby cat cage.

In the room, there were more than a dozen cats. Some of them were frightened by the convulsing cat and cowered in the corners of their cages, hissing with bared teeth as their eyes filled with terror.

Some had become numb, turning their heads to glance at the convulsing cat with a trace of sadness passing through their lifeless eyes.

The cat was convulsing severely, indicating that it had been drained of blood and was nearing the end.

The staff member hurriedly removed the needle and grabbed the blood bag in his hand. He then kicked the cat away, causing it to land on the floor with a muffled groan.

"Damn... It's just about 50-60 milliliters, and it almost spilled because of this damn cat," muttered the staff member.

The man with a ghost hovering over his head was the owner of the workshop named Boris Trask.

Boris furrowed his brows upon seeing the situation. "Dispose of it if it's dead. Also, while you're at it, don't keep the ones that are about to kick the can either. Draw their blood and then get rid of them. We can save on some cat food."

The staff member replied, "Okay."

Boris asked, "How's business this week?"

The staff member held a notebook that was filled with a whole page of contact numbers and names of previous breeders they had dealt with.

"We had three orders this week," he said. "It's fewer than last week. Well... it's mainly because pet cats are eating better than humans these days, so there are fewer sick ones. I really wish they would get sick every day."

He chuckled and added, "If I knew which families had cats, I'd go to each one and give them a personal blend of my own medicine!"

With three orders per week, he would only earn a commission of a thousand dollars.

During slow times, he would only make four to five thousand dollars in commissions per month.

Boris said, "Don’t even go there. Going into people's homes to poison pets is unethical..."

After a pause, he continued, "Besides, residential areas have surveillance cameras. You need to be very careful not to get caught; the risk is too high."

The staff member laughed, "Boss, I was just kidding!"

As he spoke, he threw the dead cat into a garbage bag. With several swift motions, he drained the remaining life out of a few cats that were still barely alive, then threw them into the bag as well.

Some of the drained cats died instantly while others convulsed. The garbage bag trembled, but Boris and the staff member seemed accustomed to it.

Boris patted the staff member's shoulder. "Get ready. Tomorrow, we'll go out and rescue a group of stray cats."

The staff member nodded. "Oh sure thing!"

Their so-called "rescue" meant going out to find stray cats and using the pretense of rescue to capture them.

Once captured, the cats would be kept in this room.

To maintain a stable business, they would go out twice a month. For each cat they captured, the staff member would earn a commission of three hundred dollars.

Usually, they could capture around a dozen cats at a time. In other words, by going on one "rescue" mission, the staff member would earn around three thousand dollars in commissions.

With the commission from the blood extractions, his monthly income steadily exceeded ten thousand dollars.

The staff member had a favorable impression of Boris. With the number of cats they kept, they would only make around fifty to sixty thousand dollars each month from selling blood. Despite that, Boris still gave him over ten thousand each month. That was the textbook definition of a great boss.

"I really love doing rescues," the staff member said with a cheerful smile.

Boris patted his shoulder. "Work hard! Whether you want to buy a car, a house, or even want to get married, it’s all within reach!"

The staff member expressed his gratitude, saying, "Yes, sir!"

That said, the use of the term "rescue" in their context was truly ironic...

The ghost above Boris's head struggled again as the pain in his eyes grew stronger.

In the past, this place used to be his paradise. Everyone in this workshop were his patrons.

Every time they discussed business and rescues was when he smiled the most.