What the hell is the "kill line" when you're in America?

After parting ways with Alex, Leon did not immediately return to Ninth Street.

That place was his "devil's den".

That reunion and revelation about Mike dispelled the gloom that had accumulated in his heart.

He decided to completely relax.

He wants to be either a tourist or an ordinary local resident.

Go and experience the local customs and culture of this city, which are completely different from those in the slums.

His steps eventually came to a halt in front of Pike Place Market.

This place was not unfamiliar to him.

The last time I came here was to complete a system task.

He wanted to refine the batch of "Elysium Pills" that would lead him into the dark world.

But that time he was in a hurry, his mind full of calculation and vigilance.

This time, however, he decided to change his mindset.

He wants to re-examine this Seattle landmark through the eyes of an outsider.

The market entrance was bustling with noise.

The iconic fishmonger's fish-throwing performance drew cheers and flashes of light.

Giant king crabs and fresh oysters are piled high on ice, exuding the scent of the ocean.

A street performer played guitar and sang slightly hoarse blues.

In the violin case in front of him, there were some banknotes and coins scattered around.

At the flower stalls, tulips, roses, and sunflowers competed for attention.

They formed a magnificent ocean of colors.

At the entrance of the artisanal cheese shop, the staff are warmly inviting tourists to sample the cheese.

A long queue had formed outside the Starbucks store not far away, which claimed to be the "first" Starbucks.

All of this creates a vibrant and bustling scene of everyday life.

This scene is completely different from that of the Ninth Street.

Li Ang did not rush in; he simply stood on the periphery of the crowd and observed quietly.

In his spiritual vision, this place was practically a safe zone within the "kill line".

He saw tourists from all over the world, their faces filled with curiosity and joy.

They enthusiastically bought various souvenirs and sampled local snacks.

They posed for photos in all sorts of exaggerated poses in front of the famous gum wall.

The "kill line" above their heads is mostly green, representing safety.

These people are in a peaceful state, and their values ​​are stable.

This was a world apart from what he had seen in the Ninth Block.

What he saw above the heads of homeless people and drug addicts was often an endangered blood red.

In the same city, but in different areas, the value of people's lives is invisibly divided.

These are two completely different worlds.

He also observed that behind the vendors' enthusiastic shouts lay a shrewd calculation of profits.

He saw the tourists' faces light up with an impulsive sense of satisfaction as they made their purchases.

He also easily spotted several pickpockets who were hiding in the crowd, trying to steal from him.

But he did not intervene.

Here, theft is also considered a "business activity".

Being robbed is a "risk" that tourists need to bear themselves.

A white blues singer was playing and singing on the street.

Native Americans are selling handmade silver jewelry.

There were also groups of Asian tourists, noisily haggling over prices.

This apparent harmony of multiculturalism is something that Li Ang finds very interesting.

He finally took his first step and entered the market.

He followed the example of ordinary tourists and queued up to buy a seafood chowder.

The stall looked popular, with steaming hot soup served in paper bowls.

The rich aroma of milk and the salty fragrance of seafood waft over you.

He didn't rush to eat, but instead carried the soup to the edge of the market.

He sat down on a bench on a pier overlooking Puget Sound.

The sea breeze, carrying a slightly salty scent, caressed my face.

In the distance, a white ferry sounded its horn and slowly sailed by.

Further away is Mount Rainier, its pristine snow-capped peak appearing and disappearing in the clouds.

Li Ang used a plastic spoon to scoop up a spoonful of thick soup and slowly put it into his mouth.

Fresh clam meat, bouncy shrimp, and soft, tender potato chunks are mixed with the sweetness of cream.

All of this blossomed on his taste buds.

It has a very simple flavor, yet it's very comforting.

At this moment, there was no killing, no conspiracy.

There were no scheming plots or calculations that would make your scalp crawl.

Only the most authentic taste of food, the scent of the sea breeze, and the warmth of the sun.

He recalled what Alex had said in the coffee shop.

"The rules of this country... only apply to us little bugs."

He thought again of Jerome and his daughter, struggling in the mud for the most basic survival and health.

Look at these tourists in front of you, enjoying their holiday carefree in Pike Place Market.

The same city, the same country, yet such a divided world exists.

These worlds seem to never intersect.

"This is America."

Li Ang came to a conclusion in his mind.

Glamour and decay coexist, opportunity and despair go hand in hand.

Everything is priced, whether it's a commodity, a dream, or even life itself.

All of this is wrapped up in a grand narrative of "freedom" and "prosperity".

This makes everything seem so natural.

A small incident interrupted his thoughts.

A little blonde girl lost her grip on the red balloon, and it flew into the air.

The girl watched her beloved balloon fly higher and higher, and she was so anxious that she almost cried.

Her parents awkwardly tried to comfort her.

Li Ang glanced at it; he didn't even need to stand up.

With just a slight movement of his fingertips, an invisible force quietly emerged.

That burst of energy precisely altered the airflow around the balloon.

The balloon, which was originally going to drift to the sea, swirled and drifted back.

The balloon landed right in front of the little girl.

The little girl stopped crying and smiled, hugging her recovered balloon tightly.

Her parents looked on in amazement at this little miracle.

They looked around, searching for which God had extended a helping hand.

Li Ang simply smiled and finished the last sip of the thick soup.

He threw the paper bowl into the nearby trash can and got up to leave.

Hidden strength and name.

Just as he was enjoying this rare moment of peace, the phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated.

He took it out and glanced at it; it was a call from Derek.

Li Ang swiped to answer the call but didn't say anything.

"Boss, the revenue report for this month from the new underground casino in the tenth block is out!"

On the other end of the phone, Derek's voice came through, excited yet fawning.

"The number of reports has doubled since last month!"

"understood."

Li Ang's answer was simple and indifferent.

"And on the Scorpion's side, they've taken care of the last few troublemakers in Block 15."

"The entire neighborhood is now under our control..."

"You can handle these things yourselves."

Li Ang interrupted him, "Don't call me unless it's something really important."

After saying that, he hung up the phone.

This phone call felt like a cold reminder.

Remind him that he is still the "Demon Lord" who controls countless lives across several city blocks.

But at this moment, he chose to temporarily set that identity aside.

As the sun sets, golden rays bathe the entire Puget Sound in its glow.

The sea surface was coated with a dreamlike color.

Li Ang left the bustling Pike Place Market.

Instead of taking a car, he walked slowly along the seaside promenade.

He walked back in the direction he had come from, feeling a long-lost sense of peace.

And a more complex emotion.

He gained a deeper, indescribable understanding of this demonic land that he had once only wanted to escape.

It could even be some kind of peculiar "connection".

He passed a street corner.

A ragged homeless man wrapped a tattered blanket even tighter around himself.

He huddled in the corner, shivering in the rising cold wind.

Just a few steps away from him was a luxuriously decorated upscale restaurant.

Inside the floor-to-ceiling windows, well-dressed men and women are raising champagne glasses.

They chatted and laughed under the dazzling crystal chandelier.