American Evil God, starting with the American rebel leader raising poisonous insects.

The Maybach departed the airport and entered downtown Atlanta.

The city center is like a meticulously maintained display case:

The glass-walled building reflected the morning light, the streets were clean, the buildings were all modern, and the logos of international companies shone on the rooftops.

Vehicles shuttle back and forth, but there are hardly any pedestrians on the sidewalks, and there are no street shops downstairs.

The city's core area resembled a sterile set, with only traffic flow and no human presence.

The car headed south, crossing an invisible boundary.

The scene suddenly changed.

The urban area has become a patchwork of scenes, barely stitched together by the road network:

Latino communities, African American communities, Chinese neighborhoods...

Each area is self-contained, with boundaries defined by convenience stores, churches, and barbed wire.

The infrastructure was completed independently, but it was isolated from each other.

This is the ultimate form of suburbanization; it's not about expansion, but about parallel development.

It's like connecting various completely different cultural cities into a whole.

The car continued south, where the building density decreased further.

Large fields appeared on both sides of the road, with green trees swaying in the wind.

In the distance, someone was riding a horse, a rifle slung over their shoulder, galloping across the grass.

Further out at the edge of the meadow, several ragged figures were being driven by someone wielding a whip, diligently picking cotton.

And some old events are being rerun!

Houses of all kinds are scattered across the fields.

A typical scene of the fields in Hongzhou.

Lucien leaned back in his seat, looking out the window.

"He shouldn't have driven the Maybach."

He grimaced and muttered something to himself, clearly dissatisfied.

This car is too fussy and not powerful enough.

But we're almost there.

The car turned onto a private road, passed through two barbed wire gates, and entered a vast area enclosed by a white wooden fence.

In the center stands a huge villa, in the Gothic style, with pointed roofs and arched windows, and the exterior walls are made of dark gray stone.

The European and Christian fervor of the old Red State is solidified into architecture.

Two white males, armed with AR rifles and dressed in khaki uniforms, stood at the entrance.

The Maybach was stopped, and the window rolled down.

Once the other party saw Lucien's face clearly, they nodded and let him pass.

"Young Master Lucien, welcome back."

There is a sentry post every fifty meters on both sides of the road.

All the guards were white men with calm eyes and carried firearms.

Lucien had someone drive the car to the parking lot and then went inside the villa.

A robust old man stood in the main seat.

His hair was silver-white, but his back was straight and his shoulders were broad, like a lion that had its claws drawn but was still poised to strike.

However, he didn't see lions.

Walls Alden, the head of the family.

Standing next to him was a young Asian man, about 1.78 meters tall, wearing a simple shirt and trousers, without glasses, but exuding a scholarly air.

Yes, he's a typical Schrödinger from the 80s generation.

He was relaxed and listening to Walters speak with a smile.

"Father,"

He stepped forward, his gaze lingering on the old man's face, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Is your stomach problem cured?"

With the enhancement of a Black Iron-level body and the ability to perceive the emotions of others brought by the [Threshold Breaker], he was able to achieve this.

He discovered that his father had regained his confident demeanor.

But he remembers clearly that six months ago, Walters was diagnosed with a serious stomach ailment and had to begin gradually handing over his affairs to his older brother Michael.

After all, if I were to have a stomach transplant, I would be completely controlled by those damned pharmaceutical companies using rejection-suppressing drugs!

That would mean the father was about to reveal a weakness.

Within the circles of the redneck aristocracy, the head of the family must never show weakness, or other families will pounce on him like hunting dogs smelling blood.

Walters laughed and patted the young man next to him on the shoulder.

"Lucien, this is Zeng Zhengmian, a great young man from Seris. Thanks to his introduction, I had a minor operation at his relative's hospital and I'm fully recovered now."

His palm was thick and made a dull thud when it slapped Zeng Zhengmian's shoulder.

Upon seeing this, Lucien's indifference shifted slightly, a smile appeared on his face, and he turned to Zeng Zhengmian, extending his hand.

"Hello, Zhengmian Zeng. I am Lucien Alden."

Their attitude was natural, even friendly.

At this moment, the yellow-skinned monkey is promoted to human.

He cured his father's illness, delayed the transfer of power, and maintained the stability of this safe haven.

He is a good person.

It's a pity he's not white.

Zeng Zhengmian shook hands with a shy smile.

"Hello, Lucien. You're welcome. I just helped make the contact; the surgery was performed by the doctor."

He spoke casually.

For him, it was just introducing his landlord to domestic medical resources; it was just a minor surgery, nothing serious.

"Father,"

Lucien withdrew his hand and got to the point.

"Is the rally about to start?"

"tomorrow."

Walters nodded.

"Michael can't go. Since you're back, you can go instead."

He paused, then looked at Zeng Zhengmian.

"By the way, Zeng hasn't seen our gatherings before, has he? Lucien, take him along to broaden his horizons."

Michael is the eldest son and is in charge of practical matters, but there are certain occasions where he is not suitable to appear in public.

After all, the eldest son is the best sacrifice; if the father hadn't already poured all his treasures into the eldest son...

"it is good."

Lucien deserves a clean break.

He glanced at Zeng Zhengmian, the thought of using the [Threshold Breaker] flashed through his mind, but he immediately dismissed it.

It's unnecessary and boring.

The Seresian wasn't playing fancy enough; his threshold was probably pitifully low, and he probably couldn't even withstand a soft groan from him.

As for the father... now is not the time.

The family still needs this lion to keep things in check, and Walters is too traditional, so his threshold is not high either.

Simply put, they're all too traditional, not creative enough, and not up to par.

"But you'd better be mentally prepared."

Suddenly, a very amusing idea flashed through his mind, and he spoke in a flippant voice.

"what?"

Zeng Zhengmian paused for a moment, then nodded, somewhat puzzled.

"Okay."

He wasn't wary at all.

Perhaps because he had just returned from visiting relatives in Seris and was in Wales' territory, he did not refuse.

After all, he will be studying in Atlanta for the next period of time, and he will still have to stay at Walls' place.

Otherwise, she wouldn't have been so proactive in helping Walters get medical treatment.

Are you still going to stay here?

Half an hour later, the two got into a Ford F-350 pickup truck.

The car body is black, the chassis is raised, and the tires are wide and thick.

This is the kind of car that should be in redneck territory.

Lucien started the engine, and the car drove away from the villa, heading towards the distant rolling coniferous hills.

"The rally hasn't started yet, let's go over there first and let you get used to it, otherwise it won't be fun if we're delayed when the rally starts."

He turned to Zeng Zhengmian, who was sitting to the side still looking rather dazed, and spoke.

"Um."

Zeng Zhengmian nodded, even though he wasn't entirely sure.