American Zombie Detective

Chapter 237 Recruiting Partners

The burly Latino slammed his plate on the table, his body reeking of body odor, and leaned closer to Qin Jin. He roared in a low voice, "Listen up! Yellow-skinned monkeys! Painted-face Nice is one of us, MS-13! You're dead! You better not be alone, or I'll crush your bones one by one!"

Qin Jin didn't even lift his eyelids. He slowly scooped up a little stewed beans with a spoon, chewed it twice, and then pushed the plate in front of Constantine.

"It tastes awful." Qin Jin curled his lip, completely ignoring the fat man.

"Agreed, this stuff—even a dog wouldn't touch it." Constantine took out a cigarette, about to put it in his mouth, but then thought better of it and put it back in his pocket, looking equally disgusted.

Only then did Qin Jin slightly turn his head to look at the fat man, his gaze sweeping over the man's still-unfilled plate, and casually ask, "Do you want some?"

This sudden question completely baffled the fat man, who didn't understand what it meant.

Constantine immediately understood and, with perfect ease, shoveled all the unappetizing beans from the two plates onto his own plate, piling them on top.

"Hey, give me a hand, big guy, don't waste it."

Constantine said, stuffing only fried chicken breast and bread into his mouth, and Qin Jin did the same.

The fat man stared blankly for a full two seconds as another bean suddenly appeared in his plate before he realized that this was an extreme insult! The other person didn't take him seriously at all, and even treated him like a garbage can!

"FK U! You fucking idiot!" The fat man's face turned a deep purplish-red as he stood up abruptly, his massive fist about to slam down!

"Stop! Robbie!"

A muscular Latino man with a guillotine tattoo on his neck walked over. He was El Marchetno, the MS-13's top lieutenant on Devil's Island, nicknamed "Guillotine."

When Robbie saw his boss, he was like a rooster with its neck being choked, his anger forced back, but he still pointed at Qin Jin and the other man unwillingly: "Boss!" El ignored him, his sharp gaze fixed on Qin Jin, a strong sense of doubt and scrutiny flashing in his eyes, as if he was recalling something.

He pressed down on Robbie's throbbing arm and said to Qin Jin in a low, hoarse voice, "You broke my man's arm, don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

Just like with Fat Robbie, Qin Jin ignored him as well, put down his plate and stood up, with Constanze Dante following along with a grin.

Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunchtime.

The prison guards began shouting and urging the prisoners who had finished eating to go to the exercise yard.

Qin Jin and Constantine followed the crowd straight out, without glancing at El again.

"Boss! We're just going to let them go like that? They're just two yellow-skinned monkeys! Even if they can fight, there are so many of us—"

Robbie watched their retreating figures, indignant. El's gaze remained fixed on Qin Jin, his brow furrowed, and he slowly shook his head.

"No, Robbie. That Asian man—he reminds me of a very scary person from a long time ago. Don't move yet, I'll go talk to him myself while I'm out for some fresh air."

Exercise area. Prisoners in the gray zone can move around in the large exercise yard, while serious offenders in the blue zone are confined to a corner of the exercise yard, an area about the size of a basketball court enclosed by barbed wire.

Qin Jin found a bench in the sunlight, sat down, closed his eyes to rest, while Constantine observed the prison's social scene with great interest.

Soon, a lean prisoner with shrewd eyes strolled over and whispered to Constantine through the barbed wire, "Hey, our boss, 'The Butcher' Ivan, wants to talk to you."

He pointed to the blue zone.

Qin Jin didn't even open his eyes. Constantine understood and strolled over to the barbed wire fence, where he whispered a few words to a burly man inside who was as tall as an iron tower and had a lifeless look in his eyes.

A while later, he returned with two packs of cigarettes in his pocket.

"What is it?" Qin Jin asked.

Constantine shrugged, lit a newly acquired cigarette, and took a satisfying drag: "It's nothing. That guy named Ivan thinks we're tough guys and wants to recruit us as his henchmen."

"What did you say?"

"I think it's pretty good." Constantine exhaled a smoke ring and smiled like a cat that had just stolen some fish.

Qin Jin finally opened his eyes and looked at him in surprise: "————What do you mean?"

"As soon as I said I'd think about it, that guy just shoved two packs of this into my hand."

Constantine flicked his cigarette ash triumphantly. "They even said there would be plenty of cigarettes from now on. I thought, joining a gang is nothing, it won't hurt me, and I'll get to smoke, so why not join? I agreed."

Qin Jin was speechless for a moment, but then he thought about it and realized it made sense, since it wouldn't delay the killing anyway: "————Fine, whatever makes you happy."

Just then, another important figure appeared.

A man around fifty years old, with graying hair and beard but a strong physique, walked over, followed by four or five burly men with solemn expressions like priests. He was "Roy, the Madman of Salin, the Messenger of the Gate of Destiny".

He walked up to Qin Jin and began in a preaching tone: "Lost sheep, I see the power and confusion within you. The door of destiny is open to you. Join us, follow the guidance of the true God, and you will gain something unprecedented—"

Before he could finish speaking, Constantine interrupted, "Sure. How many packs of cigarettes a day?"

Roy's sermon got stuck in his throat, and he visibly froze for a moment, causing his followers behind him to immediately show anger.

Constantine, however, remained unfazed and continued, "Stop with the nonsense. Free bodyguards, sacrificing yourselves for you? You..."

Do I look like a fool? Who would do something that doesn't benefit them?

One of the believers couldn't resist stepping forward, but Roy raised his hand to stop him.

He gave Constantine a deep look, then glanced at Qin Jin, who remained unmoved beside him, and a strange smile appeared on his face.

He reached behind him, and someone immediately handed him two packs of cigarettes. Roy shoved the cigarettes into Constantine's hand: "Very good, a straightforward deal. I like it. Join us, and you won't lack cigarettes, medicine, alcohol, or food."

"Deal! We're now with the Gate of Destiny!" Constantine readily stuffed the cigarette into his pocket, his movements as practiced as if he'd just collected protection money.

After Roy left, a short while later, El, the guillotine wielder, also walked through Cao Cao's path, this time with a noticeably better attitude.

He approached Qin Jin, staring intently at his face, and tentatively asked, "Chinese—do you know someone named 'Qin Han'?"

Qin Jin finally raised his eyelids and lazily asked, "What did you ask him about?"

Seeing this attitude, El's suspicions became even more certain, and his tone even carried a hint of awe: "Many years ago, in Chicago, when I was young, I saw his—power. If you have any connection with him, or if you don't, it doesn't matter, even if you just look like him—Nice, it's all wiped clean. My men won't bother you anymore."

Qin Jin remained silent, which was taken as tacit agreement.

Constantine immediately chimed in with a grin, "Great idea! That settles it all! By the way, does your gang recruit? The joining fee is just two packs of cigarettes."

El:

Ultimately, whether out of fear of Qin Han or because he thought the two men were indeed formidable fighters, El even had two packs of cigarettes brought over.

In the following time, two or three more groups of people came to try and win him over, and Constanze Dante's shrewd tactics reached their peak—he accepted everyone! No matter what they said, their core demand was only one thing: "Join us? / Let's be friends? / Let's get to know each other? — Sure! Here's a cigarette!"

Only half an hour had passed since the exercise period began, and Constanze's two pockets were already stuffed full, bulging with cigarettes of various brands, making him look like a mobile cigarette stand.

suddenly!

Someone shouted from a corner of the playground, "Hey! A newbie, another newbie!" That spot had a perfect view of the main road leading into the prison gate.

Many prisoners who enjoyed a good time immediately rushed over, crowding around the barbed wire and craning their necks to see how good the fresh meat was this time.

"Hahaha! This time it's finally my turn, right? Tonight I'll definitely—"

A burly man with a fierce face was excitedly shouting, but before he could finish speaking, his companion next to him shoved his elbow hard into his ribs.

"Shut up, you idiot!" His companion lowered his voice, glancing frantically in Qin Jin's direction with a look of fear, afraid of angering the two menacing figures.

The big man then remembered the terrible state of Nice and Eamon that morning. He swallowed the rest of the food in his throat, cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and he quickly shrank his neck and hid in the crowd.

Qin Jin ignored all of this. His gaze swept across the playground, scrutinizing everyone in turn, trying to find Peng Sheng, who was hiding among them.

At the edge of the playground, there were several prisoners with piercing gazes, cold expressions, or even somewhat twisted ones, but none showed any signs of being possessed.

Unfortunately, Qin Jin lacked this ability; despite his careful observation, he still discovered nothing.

The only thing that piqued his interest was the twenty or thirty people huddled on the bench in the playground, all intently watching the old man in the middle, his face beaming with excitement, seemingly speaking animatedly about something—