I planted a sacred tree in Tokyo.

Chapter 211 American Agents

Chapter 211 American Agents
new York,

Manhattan, Bedford Street.

As a world-leading metropolis in every aspect, it is a place where countless riches, fame, conspiracies, and darkness converge.

Under the cover of night, in a huge white manor with a typical colonial style, bodyguards in black suits patrolled back and forth with military dogs, and numerous surveillance cameras, both overt and covert, captured every corner of the entire manor.

Infrared alarms create invisible defenses along walls and in courtyards, instantly detecting any living creature that passes through.

There were also hovering balloon drones in the night sky, constantly scanning the entire manor, making the security work watertight.

Unfortunately, this only applies to 'ordinary' superhumans.

Under the cover of night, countless black 'lines' writhed along the corners of the building, eventually intertwining, combining, and transforming into a crouching black shadow under the eaves of the master bedroom balcony.

"Oh~~ye~~yes~~"

Ok?
The familiar panting of a woman came from the room, causing the figure hanging upside down on the balcony to pause; who would have thought that at this hour, the target was doing aerobic exercise?

As a gentleman, the shadowy figure decided to wait a moment.

"I'm coming!"

With a drawn-out scream, the woman's voice became long and drawn out.

then:

"com~~"

Another familiar female voice rang out, and the second battle began.

More than half an hour later.

???

They've changed three people already, what a load of crap!

The shadowy figure waited no longer, transforming into countless writhing black lines that silently slipped into the room through the window cracks.

Upon entering the luxurious bedroom, a whiff of perfume, sweat, and some indescribable odors assaulted the nostrils, causing the superhuman figure to involuntarily frown.

Sometimes, having overly acute senses isn't a good thing.
"Oh my god?!"

The blonde beauty, who was engaged in a close-quarters battle with the owner of the mansion, saw a dark shadow wriggling and twisting in mid-air because she was facing the balcony. She screamed in fright and squeezed hard at the same time.

"Shet!"

The young, wealthy Black man, who was sprinting, instinctively dodged to the side, drew his gun, and rolled away, seemingly having experienced 'assassination attempts' quite often.

At the same time, he shouted while rolling around—

"Mike!!"

brush,

An elderly white man in an old-fashioned jacket rushed out of the room next to the bedroom, which had not been closed.

As he rushed out, the old white man had already aimed his long, thick silver pistol, or rather, hand cannon, at the dark figure on the balcony.

It was a true 'shadow': its entire body seemed to be dressed in a black bodysuit, with only its eyes showing.

boom! boom! boom!
Three specially designed bullets whistled out, but instead of aiming at the intruding shadow, they were aimed at:
The black millionaire who rolled out in front of him!

Rather than harming the enemy, the old white man chose to 'protect' his boss first.

boom! boom! boom!
Then three more gunshots rang out.

After blocking the space in front of their boss, the other three bullets were fired at the shadowy figure.

"Ok?"

The dark figure rushing towards the tumbling tycoon let out a soft exclamation.

He had already dodged the bullets, but then paused slightly: one of the bullets hit the wall next to him, deflected back, and pierced his back.

Interesting technique.
Unfortunately, it was of no use to him.

As the black threads behind him wriggled, the twisted bullet was squeezed out.

Bang!
In that brief delay, the bedroom door was smashed open with a loud crash.

Amidst the flying debris from the shattered high-end teak door, a round figure rushed in.

"Alex, what happened?!"

The newcomer was also a black man. His gaze swept across the crowd and first noticed the white man who had fired the gun. Then, seeing the dark figure approaching his boss, he roared and pounced on him.

"Get away from my brother—"

boom! !

The next second, an even more ferocious force attacked him.

A giant hammer came crashing down, instantly causing the dark-skinned, overweight man to fall to his knees.

"do not move,"

The shadowy figure spoke.

One of his hands transformed into a giant hammer, and the other into a crab claw.

The sledgehammer smashed half of the fat, black man's body into the floor, while the crab claws were positioned around the neck of the tumbling, wealthy black man, ready to close at any moment.
"Hey, calm down, calm down! Man~~"

The naked Black tycoon squatting on the ground immediately raised his hands, his usual rapping tone suddenly coming out in fright.

"Whoever sent you, I'll give them ten times, no, a hundred times the commission!"

"I have the capital to do so."

“Shut up, Mr. Alexander.”

The naked, wealthy black man was startled by the impatient voice of the shadowy figure.

"You are."

"FBI Agent Mike?"

? !
“I remember your voice; I started out as a rapper.”

The wealthy Black man, who had been squatting on the ground, perked up. Regardless of why the other party wanted to assassinate him, his immediate priority was to save his life.

"I just had dinner with your bureau chief yesterday, at the President's dinner party."

“Mr. Alexander, you have misunderstood.”

Now that his identity had been exposed, the shadowy figure no longer concealed himself: the black 'bodysuit' on his body wriggled and transformed into a black suit.

? !
What is this, Venom?

The people in the room dared not move at all.

Whether it was the three beautiful women on the bed who had lost their color, the old white man holding a gun, or the fat black man who had sunk into the floor.

"Since you still remember me, can you answer the question I once asked you?"

Knock knock knock,

As former FBI agent Mike began to ask questions...

The white man named Mike swiftly struck the three beauties on the bed, knocking them unconscious.

"God,"

"Please believe me, I have absolutely nothing to do with that damned 'missing girl case'!"

A naked, wealthy Black man cried out in protest as someone held a weapon to his neck.

"I swear, look over there—"

He pointed to the large bed, where three blonde women lay in a mess.

"I like blondes, big breasts, and fair skin... cough cough. I'm good friends with the President, and I'm not one of those Democrats."

That is one reason.
“Then, Mr. Alexander.”

"Please tell me which wealthy individuals are involved: surely someone as important as you wouldn't be completely unaware of the inside story?"

"I"

The young, wealthy Black man squatting on the ground had several changes in expression:
His skin wasn't dark; it looked more like that of a man who had sunbathed a lot.

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you."

He quickly rattled off several names, all descendants of prominent American business figures, and the wealthy man resignedly looked up:

"Brother, I can buy my life with money—"

"I don't want your money,"

Just when the tycoon was in despair, the crab claw next to his neck was pulled away.

"Thank you for your cooperation, goodbye."

brush,

The next second, the 'FBI agent' jumped backward.

splash,

The sound of a window breaking.
And then an alarm suddenly sounded in the manor.

"I...I'm not dead?"

Unable to resist touching his neck, the naked young Black tycoon looked on incredulously.

Given his personality, killing him to silence him would have been the best solution. Judging by his own actions, it's surprising that the other party let him go.
Tap tap tap,

"Attack!"

"Boss, are you okay?"

At that moment, a series of rapid footsteps approached, and a group of bodyguards in black suits, armed with guns, rushed into the bedroom.

"Get out!"

The wealthy man, in a foul mood, stood up and waved his hand.

The bodyguards immediately slunk out of the room and scattered to all the corners that needed to be guarded.

"A bunch of useless trash, they didn't even realize someone had broken into my bedroom?"

"And you, Tony—"

The wealthy man, who had narrowly escaped death, turned his anger on the fat, dark-skinned man who was stuck in the floor, struggling to free himself with his arms.

"I told you to eat less, eat less! Is this how a bodyguard should act?"

"Hey, I'm your brother!"

The dark-skinned, fat man shrugged and then retorted.

"Aren't you the same? All you do is sleep with women all the time, and you skip all your training."

"Hey, you're fired!"

"Fine, I'm fired, but I'll still eat and drink here~~"

"That's enough for you two."

While examining the young, wealthy black man's body, the older white man intervened to stop the two men from shifting blame during their "post-match debriefing."

The white man was in charge of security and had also done a lot of dirty work for wealthy black men.

It can be said that he is the one the wealthy trust the most.

"There were no obvious external injuries,"

"However, the possibility that some kind of 'curse' is lurking cannot be ruled out."

"Starting tomorrow, you two must complete the training I've assigned: In this chaotic era, if you don't want to die, you'd better strive to become stronger!"

"Ah, but it's my job."

“Okay, you’re right, Mike.”

The young Black tycoon grabbed a bathrobe from the side and put it on, understanding that the older white man named 'Mike' was doing it for his own good.

Although making money is important, in this 'supernatural era', no amount of money can buy your life: he doesn't want to experience that kind of thing again, where he could only beg for death.

“Come here, Tony.”

Reaching out, the wealthy Black man named Alexander pulled the fat, sunken man out of the floor and patted his cousin on the shoulder.

"Sorry, I got a little carried away just now."

"No, Alex, you're right, I should lose weight."

The chubby, dark-skinned man, still shaken, gave the other person a big hug.

"If anything happens to you, we... we..."

"OK OK,"

Alexander, the wealthy Black man, couldn't help but roll his eyes at his cousin.

He has no ability, no perseverance, and no intelligence. After all these years with me, all he's done is eat, drink, and have fun; he hasn't improved at all. All he's gained is a body full of fat.
"We are family, and we can only get by by relying on each other."

The only thing that's unquestionable about the other party is their 'loyalty,' after all, they're his cousin.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the chance to drink such precious extraordinary medicine.

Sometimes, it's actually more reassuring for superiors to have a less intelligent subordinate.

"Boss, it's them."

The older white man's gaze swept over the several unconscious beauties on the bed. These were all up-and-coming Hollywood actresses who had slept with wealthy black men in order to get better opportunities. Now, this had happened:

"Them"

Touching his neck, the young Black tycoon changed his tune.

"Let them stay here for a few days."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Bedford Street,
In another luxurious estate several kilometers away,

"Blood possesses a spirituality; it is not only the flow of life but also a symbol of the value and information of life, similar to the role of currency in the economy."

The host of the banquet said this while swirling the red wine in his glass.

"Even the 'supernatural potion' is extracted from the blood of extraordinary beings."

After saying that, he took a sip of the bright red liquid in his glass.

Setting down his wine glass, the estate owner turned to look at a man in a suit and tie.

Mr. Philip,”

"I haven't offended your beliefs, have I?"

"If there is no other Jew in this house."

The man being questioned by the manor owner, holding a knife and fork, laughed and made an 'American joke'.

"Then no."

The man holding the knife and fork is Jewish, and his faith forbids the consumption of blood.

As the plantation owner just said, blood is considered the source of life, and consuming blood is seen as an offense against life in Judaism. Furthermore, blood was used as a sacrificial offering in ancient times, so his beliefs would not allow such a thing to happen.

but--

Faith is something that can be flexibly changed.

Many people believe that Jews are all-powerful and secretly manipulate America: but even a fool would think that's impossible!

For many politicians and tycoons aspiring to climb the social ladder, adopting a 'Jewish' persona can indeed help them break through certain glass ceilings.

But those who truly control the fate of America are the older white men of the Ansar Group: even black men can become the president of America, but Jews can't even get an important position. Even if there are a few, they repeatedly emphasize their "American position" and avoid talking about their bloodline.

Smart people know that if a mere 2% of the population tries to control a country, the end result will be that they will be devoured and wiped out!

Therefore, the guest's answer seemed perfectly reasonable.

"What a pity,"

The manor owner put down his wine glass.
"The blood of the extraordinary is far too precious."

How much spiritual elevation can the blood of these ordinary people bring?
"You are a full member of the 'Church',"

Another guest raised his glass.
"It cannot be from the church."

Think of a solution?

These middle-class wealthy people gathered here.
Isn't it just that they covet the manor owner's 'church member' status and want a share of the pie?
“In the church, though I am willing to share the burdens of the ladies, there are too many wicked and treacherous people; those opportunistic fellows are not worthy of enjoying the glory of the ‘Father’!”

The resentment in the manor owner's tone seemed genuine: he was the one who had taken advantage of the situation; the glory of the 'father' was merely a stepping stone for him to climb higher.

For this reason, his status in the church was merely that of an ordinary 'baptist'.

"Please don't hesitate to ask if there's anything I can do to help you."

"That's right, we absolutely won't refuse."

"That's exactly right,"

The other guests also made promises, like sycophants surrounding the 'king'.

Even if the other party was just an ordinary member of the 'church', to these middle-class wealthy people, he was an important figure.

"rest assured,"

The compliments came like a tidal wave.
The manor owner, thoroughly enjoying himself, nodded slightly.

"The glory of the Father will soon shine upon America;"

"All devout believers will ascend to become noble members of their families."

In a sense, he was right.

because: