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

After organizing all the information, Lin Feng returned to the villa.

Without hesitation, he took out several large cans of gasoline from the space, unscrewed the caps, and evenly poured the gasoline into every corner of the living room, covering the sofa, curtains, and bed sheets.

Finally, he retreated to the doorway and lit the gasoline.

"boom!"

The orange-red flames suddenly shot up and quickly ignited all the flammable materials.

A wave of scorching heat rushed towards him, casting flickering light and shadow on Lin Feng's face.

After observing for a few seconds and confirming that the fire was beyond repair, he turned around.

All traces of Lin Feng's life in this villa will be destroyed in the fire.

The black modified pickup truck and the red Ferrari, which he intended to smuggle into the United States, have already been added to his storage space.

He climbed onto the silent electric off-road motorcycle, turned the throttle, and his figure blended into the night, disappearing instantly around the street corner.

Just as he was leaving, another major drama was unfolding in a warehouse in Tijuana's old town.

Based on information extracted from two agents, Mexican special forces, in order to provide answers to the missing FBI and ICE agents, also targeted the "Scorpion Gang," which had absorbed the Fire Gang, and launched a raid tonight.

Gunfire erupted both inside and outside the warehouse, accompanied by flashes of light.

Juan's men, equipped with superior weaponry provided by Lin Feng, were indeed formidable in firepower and put up a stubborn resistance, relying on the warehouse's sturdy structure.

But the police were clearly prepared and had an overwhelming numerical advantage, gradually suppressing and surrounding Juan and his men, confining them to the core area of ​​the warehouse.

Just as the fierce battle was raging and everyone's attention was focused on the direction of the warehouse window, the sound of a silencer was heard, but the sound was covered up.

The sound rang out from behind the bunker where Juan and several of his key confidants were hiding.

Juan was anxiously directing his men to withstand the frontal pressure and try to find a way to break through when he suddenly felt a burning sensation and excruciating pain explode in his temple.

At almost the same time, the leader next to him also shuddered and collapsed to the ground without uttering a sound.

Other gang members were killed before they even had a chance to turn around and see who fired the shot.

Lin Feng appeared in the shadows behind them like a ghost, the gun in his hand belonging to the special agent.

His face remained calm, without the slightest ripple.

He walked to Juan's corpse, and the black lotus phantom in his palm flickered slightly before swallowing it.

A moment later, the information was relayed.

Fortunately, although Juan had become quite arrogant, he did not leave any clear records or messages about his identity, appearance, or residence.

The other members of the gang only knew that there was a mysterious and powerful "behind-the-scenes boss called Teacher", but they knew nothing about him.

Since the Mexican police have already listed the Scorpion Gang and Juan as key targets, Juan must be captured in order to give the Americans an explanation.

Lin Feng wouldn't leave behind such a troublesome person who could implicate him.

Problems should be nipped in the bud.

As for the meager benefits and conveniences brought by controlling gangs?

Lin Feng didn't care at all.

Having witnessed the CIA's global intelligence network, operational resources, and legitimate facade, Lin Feng found these gangsters rather uninteresting.

Lin Feng could easily support a dozen more people like Juan.

But controlling a behemoth like the CIA, even just a small part of it, brings a hidden power, information advantage, and operational convenience that far surpasses what a few gang leaders can achieve.

Legal means are the only way.

Lin Feng is a law-abiding citizen and has no desire to be on a global wanted list.

The wisest choice is to clean things up and leave.

Having confirmed that nothing was missed, Lin Feng's figure blended into the night and quickly disappeared from the area shrouded in gunfire.

Outside the warehouse, the Mexican Federal Police Chief, who was directing the operation, frowned.

The gunfire inside seems to have stopped?

And it stopped very suddenly, which was very strange.

"Force entry," the chief ordered via walkie-talkie.

The fully armed special police team quickly broke down the side door of the warehouse and stormed in, providing cover for each other.

The expected fierce resistance did not materialize.

The warehouse was filled with a strong smell of gunpowder and blood, and visibility was poor.

When they cautiously searched the core area, the scene before them made even these police officers, who were used to violence, gasp slightly.

Juan's ruthless bandits lay scattered around the cover, almost all of them blown off their heads by precise marksmanship.

The wounds were all from the back of the head.

"Inspect the scene and search for Juan."

Upon receiving the report, the bureau chief walked in with a livid face.

Juan was the most important target of this operation; it was a result to show the Americans—they needed to see him alive or dead.

However, after carefully searching every corner, Juan could not be found.

"The bureau chief couldn't find Juan."

"They were all shot in the head, and all from the back of the head," an experienced SWAT officer reported in a low voice.

The bureau chief waved his hand impatiently, interrupting him.

He didn't need to know the details; he just needed a result—a result that could satisfy his superiors and, more importantly, the Americans' questioning.

Juan ran away? Absolutely not!

His gloomy gaze swept across the warehouse, then he looked at the corpses on the ground, dressed like gangsters, and an idea formed in his mind.

"Find a Juan."

The director lowered his voice and gave instructions to his most trusted deputy.

The deputy immediately understood and nodded slightly: "Understood, Director."

Juan resisted arrest and was shot dead on the spot.

The body's face was slightly damaged due to the explosion or fire, but the basic features matched.

"According to the information, there are two Chinese characters on his neck, which look like the word 'beast'."

"Yes, Chief."

This practice is not entirely new to law enforcement agencies in some parts of Mexico.

Just then, another police officer rushed over and whispered in the chief's ear: "Chief, we just received news that a fire broke out at the villa that belongs to Daniel on the hillside in the North District, and it burned down completely."

When the fire department arrived, the fire was already beyond extinguishing's reach; arson is suspected.

The bureau chief's eyes flickered slightly as he glanced at the strange scene in the warehouse. Then, thinking of the missing Juan, he vaguely pieced together some clues in his mind.

Could it be someone from the American faction?

But he quickly shook his head, suppressing the jumble of thoughts.

Daniel's villa? Juan?

The mysterious gunman—these things might be related, but they're clearly beyond the scope of his "mission" tonight.

Sometimes, knowing too much isn't a good thing.

"Okay, I understand."

The bureau chief said calmly, "It could be infighting within the gang, or revenge from enemies."

It's not under our jurisdiction.

"Take care of things here, prepare Juan's body properly, I need to brief my superiors and the American consulate tomorrow."

"Yes"

The bureau chief turned and walked out of the warehouse, no longer looking at the mess on the ground.

As night deepened, Lin Feng, like a slippery fish, easily crossed the border wall and arrived in the United States, taking advantage of the darkness and the complex terrain.

To cause trouble for the CIA, Lin Feng also posted a message on YouTube.