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

The dilapidated pickup truck drove into the entrance to the Emerald Dream City slum.

The asphalt road surface was covered with countless patches for repair, and then torn open with new scars, the cracks filled with black grime and withered weeds.

Abandoned factories of varying heights and dilapidated makeshift shacks are crammed together.

Arthur's fingers gripped the steering wheel were thick and strong, and his face radiated a confident air of complete understanding of his surroundings.

"This godforsaken place is even worse than when I was working here."

Arthur muttered under his breath, his voice ripped apart by the roar of the engine.

At the end of the alley, a dilapidated iron gate was half-open, with a faint light shining through.

Maria Sanchez's underground clinic was right in front of them.

Pushing open the door, a strong smell of disinfectant hits you, a stark contrast to the stench of decay outside.

Although the clinic was simple, it was spotless.

Maria Sanchez, a nurse in her thirties with a haggard face, watched the two men warily.

"What you're looking for isn't here. Leave, it's for your own good."

Maria Sanchez spoke in a low voice, her words full of warning.

Her weathered eyes, like two flickering candle flames, radiated a faint yet resilient light in the dimly lit clinic.

She glanced at Lin Zheng, then at Arthur, her facial muscles tense, as if ready to shut them out at any moment.

Arthur did not back down. He slowly took off his hat, revealing the wrinkles on his forehead. His eyes held a fatherly gentleness, as well as a weary sense of shared suffering.

He spoke softly about their purpose, his tone low and sincere, trying to open a crack in Maria Sanchez's tightly closed heart.

Maria Sanchez listened silently at first, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the first aid kit.

Her gaze lingered on their faces as she weighed their credibility, wavering between trust and doubt.

With Arthur's patient persuasion, Maria Sanchez's tense shoulders finally relaxed a little.

She led them to a simple inner room where several corpses covered with white sheets were laid out.

She told them that in recent months, there have been frequent "disappearances" in the community, with many homeless people, drug addicts, and even some marginalized children disappearing without a trace.

The victims she treated always had strange wounds and signs of tissue loss, as if they had been deliberately cut by some kind of crude, sharp instrument.

"Nobody cares about them. The police just close the case hastily, saying they died in an accident or from a drug overdose."

Maria Sanchez's voice was low and sorrowful, carrying a deep sense of powerlessness.

Lin Zheng didn't speak. He walked to one of the corpses covered with a white sheet, reached out, and gently lifted a corner of the sheet.

It was the body of a young man. His death was not gruesome, but there was a deep, rough cut in his chest that exposed the bone, and some of his internal organs had been removed.

His eyes bulged slightly, indicating that he had experienced extreme fear before his death.

Lin Zheng took a deep breath; he needed to undergo a [Mental Recalibration] beforehand.

"I'm a forensic doctor, can I give it a try?" Lin Zheng pointed to the corpse.

Maria nodded.

He put on gloves, took out a scalpel, and made the incision.

Focus all your attention on the man's body, from the angle of the cut in his chest to the degree of skin erosion and the remaining traces of his internal organs.

He felt his consciousness being forcibly formatted, his chaotic emotions, exhaustion, and even his instinctive aversion to death being gradually stripped away.

The world began to fade and become pale in his eyes, purely composed of structure.

Touching a corpse while in the [Mental Recalibration] state triggers [Residual Dream Reading], allowing him to objectively and calmly analyze the scenes the corpse saw before death. This is the way Lin Zheng thought of to minimize the impact of [Residual Dream Reading].

A cold, electric-like sting instantly shot into his fingertips.

What followed were images, sounds, and feelings, which flooded into Lin Zheng's consciousness in a detached and emotionless way.

He "saw" the man being hooded and roughly shoved into a dilapidated truck.

The truck was filled with the stench of decay and blood. Several other people, also bound hand and foot, lay sprawled inside, their eyes filled with fear, but their strength to struggle had been worn down by that fear.

He "heard" the truck bouncing along the rough road and the faint groans of his companions.

He "felt" an immense hunger pervading the direction the vehicle was moving. It was not human hunger, but a primal, all-consuming, indescribable emptiness that belonged to no one, yet enveloped every harvested body.

The truck eventually stopped in a dimly lit warehouse, where several figures roughly dragged the body off the truck.

These figures moved with practiced skill and cold indifference; a coiled, venomous snake was tattooed on their arms.

It is the symbol of the "Viper Gang".

He "saw" one of the figures, a burly man with bulging arm muscles, a larger venomous snake tattooed on his neck, and a morbid excitement in his eyes—it was none other than "Viper's Skull" Martinez.

Martinez directed his men to neatly load the "processed" flesh into several refrigerated trucks bearing a blurred symbol: a coiled, intertwined snake.

The lingering dream abruptly ended there, and the stinging pain vanished as well.

Lin Zheng's fingertips left the corpse and returned to the clinic's stench of disinfectant and decaying matter.

He felt a little tired, but the Mental Re-engineering kept him highly calm and prevented him from being consumed by the fear in the lingering dream.

Almost simultaneously, Evelyn's phone vibrated, an encrypted text message breaking the brief silence in the clinic.

Evelyn quickly picked up her phone, glanced at the screen, and frowned.

The screen's pale blue light illuminated Evelyn's furrowed brow as her fingers danced rapidly across the keyboard.

She made contact with Shadow Cole through technical means. He was a hacker known for his mysterious techniques in the underground network and nicknamed "Shadow".

A pop-up window flashed in the lower right corner of her screen, and on the other side of the screen, the shadowy figure wore a pixelated mask.

He was thin and pale, his eyes were bloodshot from years of staring at the computer, and he wore a pair of thick glasses for severe nearsightedness.

The overall image appears both bizarre and comical.

Evelyn briefly explained to Shadow the slum “harvesting” incident that her team was investigating, and emphasized their suspicions about the forces behind it.

"The Viper Gang? They're just small fry."

The shadow's voice came through encrypted audio.

"The real controller of the 'flesh and blood' supply chain is a thing called the 'Flesh and Blood Capital Consortium,' and its influence is far deeper than you can imagine."

"They control every step from harvesting and processing to sales; they can even monitor any attempt to mention their name online," he added.

Evelyn felt a chill run down her spine.

"This organization uses encrypted data and complex network topology to hide itself in a vast dark web woven together by biotech companies and logistics networks."

Shadow Cole explained, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

In his youthful arrogance, he attempted to decipher the data to prove himself, but was quickly tracked back and his hiding place was almost exposed.

"I'll provide you with technical support, but there will be absolutely no physical conflict involved," Shadow said firmly.

Evelyn knew this was his final line.

The screen displayed a massive dark web topology, a vast network of biotechnology companies and logistics networks covering the entire country. As he spoke, the network began to slowly expand before her eyes, each node a blood vessel connecting to an untouchable dark core.

"The flesh-and-blood capital alliance..." the shadowy voice echoed.

"Kid, we're not dealing with just a few street thugs right now."

Arthur's expression was grave as he spoke in a deep voice.

"Although I know who can provide us with more direct leads, I'm worried... he's already in dire straits himself."