The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

A tremendous roar echoed through my body.

That wasn't the aftershock of an explosion, but a more immediate and direct form of violence—

The office window, unable to withstand the pressure, suddenly shattered inwards, sending shards of glass flying in all directions with a sharp whistling sound, clattering against the wooden floor.

A cold, damp airflow, carrying a pungent smell of sulfur and burnt odor, viciously rushed into the room, instantly dispelling the lingering smell of aged whiskey and musty mold.

This was not a natural wind, but an invasion with obvious hostility.

Lin Zheng instinctively raised his arm to shield his face, and tiny shards of glass mixed with dust hit his skin, sending waves of burning pain through him.

With a muffled thud, a heavy object was thrown into the room, landing at Arthur's feet with a low thud.

It was a rough stone about the size of a fist, wrapped with a bright red strip of paper, which emitted an unsettling blood-red glow in the dim light.

Arthur Morgan, the man once numbed by pain and alcohol, now bent over stiffly.

His breathing was heavy and rapid, hissing in the darkness.

He groped for the stone, his fingers tracing the bright red paper strip.

The pale moonlight, filtering through the cracks in the broken window, barely illuminated his weathered face.

On that face, besides fear, there was more of an anger of being violated, a ferocity like that of a wild beast driven to the brink of despair.

Lin Zheng felt his heart pounding like a drum, each beat striking his eardrums.

This is the present moment, a living threat directed at them.

While they investigate the dead of the past, they themselves are becoming the prey being targeted.

Arthur's gaze lingered for a moment on the blood-red handwriting on the note, then he suddenly raised his head. His eyes, which had been clouded by alcohol, were now frighteningly clear as he met Lin Zheng's gaze directly.

The note was written in blood—

Mind your own business!

Did the warnings come from just initial contact and information gathering?

A seasoned detective's intuition told Arthur that the speed and accuracy of this warning far exceeded the capabilities of ordinary gangs.

This means that a vast and sophisticated intelligence network, and a ruthless organization with even higher levels of power, are monitoring them.

A broken window is not just a form of physical damage, but also a blatant psychological intimidation intended to silence them.

However, deep within that extreme fear, something hard began to sprout in his heart.

Retreat is no longer an option.

The road had been paved, clearly visible amidst the flying glass shards and blood-red warning letter; receiving the warning meant he had found the right direction.

Lin Zheng looked at Arthur in the darkness.

Arthur was breathing heavily, the muscles in his face were taut, and his eyes were filled with a kind of fatalistic determination.

His fragile shell, which he had been deceiving and numbing himself for twenty years.

This sudden violence shattered everything, revealing the once burning soul that had been willing to pay any price for justice.

He suddenly turned to the side, his body straightening up, his shoulders no longer hunched, and the previous air of defeat and dejection completely disappeared.

The alcohol-induced haze in his eyes had dissipated.

Instead, two blazing flames, resolute and sharp, burned through the darkness before them.

He looked directly at Lin Zheng, his voice low and hoarse, yet each word was powerful and resounding in the broken silence.

"It seems this matter is now my concern as well."

They were caught in the same vortex, sharing the same deadly secret.

Inside the office, the broken window gaped wide open, letting in the chill and danger from outside without reservation.

Lin Zheng felt a dull ache in his head, a side effect of excessive consumption of sanity, and also the lingering pain from the gouged-out eyes in his distant memory.

"You rest for a bit, I'll go get ready." Arthur patted Lin Zheng on the shoulder.

Arthur Morgan said no more. He turned and walked into the depths of the office, his do-or-die determination turning into swift and decisive action.

His steps were steady, with a rhythm unique to soldiers that he hadn't used in a long time.

He went straight to the dilapidated old bookshelf in the corner, the wood emitting a damp, musty smell.

His long, rough fingertips moved precisely between the dusty spines of the books, pushing aside several heavy volumes whose covers had long since faded.

With a soft "click," a hidden compartment, almost invisible from the wear and tear of time, was revealed behind the bookshelf.

It was a small, secret space filled with all sorts of old but well-preserved tools.

He reached into the hidden compartment with fluid and skillful movements, without the slightest hesitation.

First, he carefully took out a greasy canvas package that smelled faintly of gunpowder.

He gave it a sharp shake, and the canvas unfurled, revealing a dark, heavy revolver—

It was a weathered Colt python.

The gun barrel has lost its original luster under the erosion of time and has become somewhat dull, but its cold, hard lines exude a sense of reliability in the darkness.

Next, a worn-out cardboard box was brought out, its edges worn and curled.

Arthur shook the box gently, and a "crack" sound came from inside as metal bullets collided.

He placed the pistol and a box of dusty bullets on his desk next to the shards of broken whiskey glass.

Arthur's gaze was focused and calm. He picked up a few bullets and skillfully loaded them one by one into the magazine of his revolver.

As the magazine rotates and the bullets are in place, the weapon's power becomes increasingly intense.

He didn't look up; his entire attention was focused on the gun in his hand.

His once unsteady back, weakened by alcoholism, was now unusually straight, exuding a ruthless efficiency.

"We can't stay here, kid."

Arthur placed the Colt Python into the gun holster at his waist.

"They knew we were here, and they moved much faster than I expected."

After loading the bullets, he deftly closed the magazine and then skillfully slid the revolver into the holster inside his trench coat.

"Where are we going?" Lin Zheng asked in a low voice.

He forced himself to detach his attention from those painful illusions and focus on the reality before him.

There was no fear in Arthur's eyes, only a burning determination.

He looked up at Lin Zheng and said, "Let's find a safe house first."

"I have a few backup places, which are all rat holes, and theoretically they haven't been 'cleared' yet."

Then he changed the subject, his tone laced with sarcasm and mockery, "You'll have to get used to it, kid. This is a new way of life."

"Ha, should I buy a mouse costume? If I buy a Mickey Mouse one, will Disney's legal department come knocking?"

Lin Zheng didn't even know what he was saying; he just kept complaining.

Arthur paused, intending to grin, but forced it back, his tone becoming more serious. "Then, we have to completely dig out these 'snakes,' and the even bigger 'ouroboros' hiding behind them—the rats will eat the snakes!"

"This is a declaration of war against us, and we must fight back."

"Declare war."

Lin Zheng repeated these two words, which resonated strongly in his mind, causing his body to tremble.

Consciousness, along with genes, is howling.

Arthur sprang into action, haphazardly stuffing a few essentials into a worn canvas messenger bag: a badly worn leather notebook; an old map of Emerald Dream City; and the old dagger.

He casually tossed the bag over his shoulder, the weight causing his body to sag slightly.

"Don't forget this."

Arthur lowered his head, picked up the piece of Sam's finger bone from the table, and then, unexpectedly, gently placed it into Lin Zheng's hand.

"Let's go."

Without further hesitation, Arthur headed straight for the back door of the firm.

The door led to a narrow, slick alleyway littered with garbage, instead of the bustling main street.

The old wooden door groaned softly as it slowly opened, revealing an endless, pitch-black night outside.

"Follow me, kid."

"Keep quiet, don't look at anyone, and don't trust anyone."

It is both an order and a warning stained with blood.

Lin Zheng took a deep breath, trying to calm his wildly beating heart.

Every muscle in my body is protesting, and the trauma in my mind is still throbbing.

The tense muscles want to move quickly—fight or flight!

He focused his consciousness on the scalpel hidden in his sleeve, using its coldness to anchor his spirit.

He pulled down the brim of his baseball cap, completely hiding himself in its shadow, trying to blend into the city filled with darkness and despair.

Arthur closed the back door behind him, the lock making a barely audible "click" sound that was drowned out by the distant hum of the city.

One after the other, like two ghosts blending into the night, they quickly disappeared into the labyrinthine alleyways of the slum.

The broken window of the office starkly opened like an empty eye socket, silently watching their retreating figures.

The shards of window reflected the last glimmer of light from the streetlights.

The game has begun, and they have gone from being bystanders to being the prey being chased.

They knew all too well that every step they took exposed them to that unfathomable gaze, and there was no turning back...