Dual Transmigration: American Prison, Surviving to a Fantasy Development Stage

Lin Feng's gaze shifted to another corpse lying in the sand and gravel.

It was a Latino man, more robust than the Indian doctor, but also with a bluish-purple complexion, dying in agony.

He crouched down, and a black lotus flashed in his palm.

It reappeared silently and devoured the second corpse.

In an instant, the man's information flowed into his consciousness.

This man is Brazilian, around 35 years old, from São Paulo.

He is a highly professional freelance photographer, specializing in documentary photography and portraiture, and his work has even been exhibited in some small art exhibitions in Latin America.

The fragments of information contained a keen sense of light, structural diagrams, and detailed specifications of various camera models—all of which were crystal clear.

Lin Feng became Teacher Lin in an instant, which pleased him greatly, and he planned to take a few pictures of Sarah as well.

At the same time, this guy is also pretty good at soccer.

A passion that runs deep in one's bones.

Several flashbacks show him playing football skillfully in the slums, dribbling nimbly and mastering all sorts of juggling moves.

As for the intermediary who smuggled him into Mexico, it was the Metro Gang, one of the most powerful criminal gangs in Mexico.

The "Metro Gang" not only has close ties with the local Mexican police, but also has secret dealings with a law enforcement officer on the American side of the border.

In Mexico, police forces in many places are simply helpless when faced with these heavily armed and well-organized gangs, and have no choice but to compromise.

This Brazilian photographer is not only alone, but also has his wife.

Together, the two harbored American dreams and paid a hefty fee to the smugglers under the Metro Gang.

Instead, they were taken directly to a heavily guarded mansion in the suburbs of Tijuana.

There, they and dozens of other illegal immigrants had their cell phones, passports, and all the cash on them confiscated.

They call it "unified safekeeping" to prevent loss.

However, because his wife was beautiful and had a hot figure, she was pulled out of the crowd.

Despite his fierce resistance, he was met with a brutal beating and a cold gun barrel pressed against his forehead.

He and the others were then crammed into a tightly sealed metal container truck, beginning their death-defying journey across the border region.

The carriage quickly turned into a sauna, assaulted by oxygen deprivation and intense heat. My memory ends here.

After sorting through the information, Lin Feng also gained a lot of skills.

Photography, football, surgery, and he also learned two foreign languages.

Portuguese and Hindi.

Vocabulary, grammar, and idioms emerge naturally as if they had always existed.

It's like talking about someone who grew up there.

This feeling of directly downloading knowledge always satisfied Lin Feng with Black Lotus's abilities.

As for the remaining few corpses, they were of no further value.

Lin Feng got up, hopped on his electric motorcycle, twisted the throttle, and headed away from the border wall.

The U.S. Border Protection intercepted more than 26 illegal immigrants at the U.S.-Mexico border in a single month, setting a new record.

After riding for about twenty more minutes, the bumpy dirt road finally connected to a slightly old but relatively smooth interstate highway access road.

Lin Feng stopped the car, and with a thought, he put the electric motorcycle back into his spatial storage.

This car has good off-road performance, but its speed and range are somewhat lacking on open roads.

The next moment, a Harley-Davidson Fat Boy motorcycle with sharp lines and a shiny black paint appeared on the spot.

Lin Feng straddled the Harley, turned the key, and pressed the start button.

The engine let out a deep, powerful roar, which then turned into a steady, heavy idling sound.

Put on your helmet, twist the accelerator, and a powerful push-back sensation instantly comes through.

Because of the space available, even in extreme situations, Lin Feng can instantly retract the motorcycle and protect himself, so he has no psychological burden.

The speedometer climbed rapidly, to 70 mph, 90 mph, and 112 mph (approximately 180 km/h).

The desert landscape on both sides of the highway receded rapidly, stretching into blurry bands of color.

The roadside was not deserted.

Occasionally, you can see groups of three or five people walking along the roadside.

They were clearly illegal immigrants who had recently crossed the border.

As the deafening roar of the Harley approached, they all turned their heads and saw a bright, piercing light flash past them at incredible speed.

The intense wind pressure generated by the high speed almost knocked people off balance, making their hair fly wildly and dust fly into their faces.

"Fuck you, driving that fast is asking for it!"

"Damn madman, in such a hurry to see God?"

"Fuck you, you bastard!"

After the initial shock subsided, there was lingering fear and angry curses.

Some people subconsciously touched their necks. At that speed, if they had been hit even slightly off-center, they would have been either dead or maimed.

In just a few seconds, they couldn't even see the Harley's taillights anymore.

All that remained in sight was darkness and rising dust.

This feeling of pushing speed to the limit and teetering on the edge of losing control sent Lin Feng's adrenaline soaring, bringing a pure and intense stimulation.

He continued to accelerate, the engine roared louder and louder, and the speedometer needle approached 160 miles per hour (about 260 kilometers per hour).

The car body experiences intense vibrations and tremendous wind resistance at such high speeds, requiring a high degree of concentration and strength to control.

However, for Lin Feng, whose physical abilities far surpass those of ordinary people and who has no psychological burden, it is still within a controllable range.

After driving for a while, a motel sign with neon lights, "Desert Star," appeared by the roadside.

Lin Feng then gradually slowed down.

Lin Feng parked his Harley in a relatively well-lit parking space downstairs and went inside.

The receptionist was a bald, white old man with a thick beard. Hearing footsteps, he glanced at Lin Feng.

"Studio room"

Hearing the standard American accent, which didn't sound like someone who had trekked across the desert to illegally enter the country, the boss's expression softened, and he readily handed over a key with a plastic tag attached: "Room 305, turn right upstairs."

Cash or credit card?

"Cash." Lin Feng paid the money, picked up the keys, and went upstairs.

The room was small and simply furnished, but it was fairly clean.

Lin Feng closed the door, and the first thing he did was take out his phone and send Sarah his location and a message: "Safely entered the country, in room 305 of the 'Desert Star' motel."

Come pick me up tomorrow morning.

After sending the message, Lin Feng walked into the cramped bathroom. What came into view was an old-fashioned, yellowish bathtub, but he had no intention of taking a bath.

Turning on the showerhead, the water dripped weakly, the stream so thin that it took a lot of effort to thoroughly wet my hair.

"Damn it..." Lin Feng couldn't help but curse under his breath, but he knew it wasn't the boss's fault; Americans are all pretty much the same.

This is also why they enjoy taking baths.

Originating from the Energy Policy Act of 1992, it was stipulated that the maximum water flow rate of a shower head should not exceed 2.5 gallons per minute (approximately 9.5 liters), and the regulations have become increasingly stringent since then.

This slow, steady stream of water in a shower is torture for people who are used to a refreshing rinse.

Even Trump has repeatedly complained about wanting the freedom to shower.

If this amount of nonsense were in the country, it would have been torn to shreds by public intellectuals and bigwigs long ago.

After washing up, Lin Feng lay down on the bed, took out his phone, and, feeling bored, decided to try out the recently popular adult AI.

This is a product of Musk's company; I have to say, Musk really understands men.

Let's see what's so special about it.