I made up myths in America

Chapter 147 Loli Island

Like the Chinese, Italians also place great importance on family, clan, and blood ties.

This led them to develop the Mafia, a powerful criminal organization with a global influence, starting in the 13th century.

But at this moment, this deep-rooted family mentality has clearly become a weapon for some people to use against Elliott, a global SSS-level wanted criminal.

There's no need for deliberate, targeted planning; just a subtle push at a certain time and place.

Two weeks ago, when Elliott was preparing to go to the Appalachian Mountains with Eagle to search for the talisman, he learned from his father that his mother had been in a serious car accident.

The perpetrator was a drunk driver. After a secret interrogation by the Camorra family, to which Elliott belonged, it was determined that he had not been instructed by anyone and was simply drunk, mistaking the accelerator for the brake, and crashing into Elliott's mother's car.

When Elliott rushed home as fast as he could, all he found was his mother's body being wheeled out of the operating room, her body declared unusable by the doctors.

Thus, Elliott, unwilling to accept defeat and wanting to use his abilities to save his mother, ended up in this situation.

An ambitious Italian youth who claimed he would collect all the talismans to resurrect his lover became emaciated and skeletal in just two weeks. He has managed to persevere until now thanks to his tenacious will and obsession that even Lu Bai found somewhat alarming.

At this moment, upon seeing Shiro appear in the ward, Elliot's face regained a bit of life. He knelt on the ground with slightly awkward and stiff movements and said, "Lord Shiro, I am willing to offer my soul and everything for this."

"Hmph, brat, your soul already belongs to Master Yanshi. You'd better focus on the task I've assigned you."

Shi Luo snorted coldly, his body floating in mid-air, and pointed at the middle-aged woman whose body was cold on the hospital bed.

The last vestige of life that Elliott had barely managed to maintain within the other person's body rapidly expanded, their body temperature rose, and their illusory, almost vanished soul returned to their body, giving their face a healthy glow.

"call"

Elliott watched this scene with excitement and slightly rapid breathing, but just then, seeing that the woman on the hospital bed was about to wake up, Shiro stopped what he was doing, tilted his head, and a slightly wicked smile appeared on his skull face.

"Your mother is now out of danger, but if you want her to fully wake up, it's up to you. I remember that among the Holy Lord's twelve talismans, the Horse Talisman has healing and purifying power."

"Yes, thank you, Lord Shiluo."

Elliott knelt on the ground with utmost respect.

Only after Lord Shi Luo stepped back into the Skeleton Illusion Painting and disappeared did he slowly stand up, carefully put away the ancient painting, and look down at the middle-aged woman on the sickbed whose breathing had become steady. The heavy weight that had been hanging over his heart finally lifted, and a gentle look flashed in his eyes as he softly said:
"Mother, don't worry. Although I don't know who it is, I will not let anyone who might hurt you get away with it."

As he spoke, he left one of his meticulously crafted oil paintings in the room, and his body vanished into shadow.

A few minutes later, in a safe house a few kilometers away from the sanatorium, CIA field agent Gus Frey was sitting at his computer, reporting on his daily routine.

The report was based on information from the nursing home staff they had bribed. Elliott Camorra was not currently showing any unusual behavior and was still in his ward. Moreover, his physical condition appeared to be very poor, and he might not be able to hold on for much longer.

"So, how much longer do you think I can hold on?"

Suddenly, a slightly hoarse voice sounded behind the CIA agent. He froze as he typed on the keyboard and slowly turned around, his heart pounding with fear.

Sure enough, he was right. The owner of the voice was none other than the target he was monitoring—Elliott Camorra.

The other person was now emaciated, with sunken eyes that held a cold look as they stared at him expressionlessly.

"Pfft!!"

Hesitating for even a second longer would be disrespectful to his own life, so Gus Frey immediately knelt down, his voice trembling slightly, and said:

“Mr. Elliott, I know nothing about your mother; I was only responsible for monitoring and reporting your whereabouts.” “Is that so?”

Elliott smiled noncommittally, his face so unsightly that, to Gus Frein, the smile looked like that of a demon.

He was even more frightened.

In order to survive, his brain was working at high speed, and he said quickly, "It's true. If the CIA really was involved in this, they definitely wouldn't have sent me to monitor you. After all, those big shots in the CIA are also afraid of death and wouldn't do something so stupid."

"So who do you think it is?"

Elliott gazed at him with a deep, unsettling look.

"Many people are likely to be involved."

With death looming at hand, the CIA agent's mind had never flowed so smoothly. "After all, so many people died in Beverly Hills, Los Angeles last time. Many big shots hate you to the core. They all have the ability to orchestrate this car accident without leaving a trace, and then slowly wear you down through this. We at the CIA are professionals in this area. Just give me time, and I can definitely do it." *chuckle*

Gus Frey was willing to say anything to save his life, but Elliott had lost patience to listen.

A large, shadowy hand extended from his feet, enveloping the CIA agent's body and lifting him up, contorting him into a twisted mess.

Elliott walked to the computer, looked at the unfinished report, his gaze cold, and murmured:

"I don't need to know exactly who did it, it's enough that I know they are all suspects."

As the deep voice faded, his figure disappeared from the room once again.

It was more than half a day later when others discovered that this SSS-level wanted criminal had disappeared from the sanatorium.

Meanwhile, Elliott had already quietly left Sicily.

A few days later, using his ability to modify his body, he transformed into the appearance of an ordinary worker and landed on a small island in the Pacific Ocean.

Bill Gates, Hillary Clinton and her husband, Wall Street financier, and renowned lawyer Joss Bates
American high society figures, rarely seen in normal times, are now everywhere here. They are gathered around the carcass of a mutated sea monster that is at least fifty meters long and covered in bluish-black scales and wounds, their eyes filled with amazement.

"Everyone,"

An elderly white man in a suit and tie stood before them, a polite smile on his face, and raised his glass of red wine, saying:
"Because Little St. James Island, located in the Caribbean Sea, is currently facing great unknown risks, we will be moving our gatherings here from now on. In addition to our previous events, we will also provide a platform for everyone to share extraordinary information and items."

"And this sub-dragon species mutated due to its dragon blood is the benefit we're offering to you all. The military has already begun secret experiments; the dragon blood serum extracted from their corpses can significantly improve various aspects of human physical fitness, even sexual ability."

At this point, the old white man deliberately paused, and sure enough, many guests below smiled knowingly.

He continued, "Of course, the military has discovered in its experiments that while soldiers who volunteered for human trials experience increased strength, speed, and reaction time after being injected with dragon blood serum, and a very small number even awaken special abilities, they also seem to be affected by the dragon blood, quickly losing their minds and turning into highly aggressive monsters."

"Therefore, our Life Foundation is working on a solution to this problem, and we have over a thousand researchers working for us."

"I believe that once this problem is solved, everyone here can become an extraordinary being of the new era, or even..."

Before he could even utter the last word "god," with a "poof," the Life Foundation director in charge of the event coughed up a mouthful of blood, looked down in disbelief at the shadowy tentacle that had pierced through his chest.

Standing behind him, Elliot raised a hand to wipe his face, restoring his original appearance. Looking at the dignitaries who had turned pale at the sight, he chuckled softly: "Excuse me, gentlemen, I couldn't help but speak up because this old man's words were so stupid. So, are you ready to witness how we Sicilians take revenge on those bastards who hurt our loved ones?"

(End of this chapter)