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

He saw that a simple stage had been set up in the center of the square.

Dozens of women, wearing only underwear, their bodies covered in colorful paint.

On stage, they made all sorts of exaggerated, even somewhat indecent, gestures.

A blonde woman who appeared to be in charge was holding a megaphone and giving a passionate speech.

"They use pornography, movies, and every other means to objectify us as tools to satisfy their desires!"

"They use their so-called aesthetic standards to define our values!"

"Today, we will use our bodies to break these shackles!"

"We need to tell them that we are not commodities! We are free! We are powerful!"

Her speech drew cheers and applause from the surrounding crowd.

Li Ang stood on the periphery of the crowd, watching the farce with a blank expression.

In his field of vision of the "kill line," there was that passionate blonde woman.

[The threshold for elimination: Medium (Popularity-seeking, heavily in debt)]

And the "sisters" around her who were also emotionally charged mostly had "endangered" or "low" death lines above their heads.

Many of them don't even know where their next meal will be.

Li Ang's gaze then swept over the onlookers who were taking pictures with their phones.

Most of them had a "the more the merrier" mentality, enjoying watching the drama unfold.

It was a meticulously planned commercial stunt designed to attract attention and generate traffic.

The blonde woman leading the group is likely just a "celebrity" pushed into the spotlight by some organization.

Behind her, perhaps, stands a bloated, obese man, the "dirty man" she speaks of, counting his money while mocking their foolishness.

Li Ang shook his head and turned to leave.

This low-level "magic" gameplay didn't interest him at all.

He continued walking aimlessly.

After walking through several blocks, he witnessed another "spectacle".

On the lawn of a park, a group of people were dressed in brightly colored, outlandish costumes.

They were covered in rainbow flags and all sorts of strange and wonderful ornaments.

There were men dressed as women, women dressed as men, and some whose gender Li Ang couldn't determine from their appearance at all.

Embrace your uniqueness!

"Love is love!"

"We are proud of ourselves!"

They shouted slogans, hugged each other, and kissed.

Compared to before, what Li Ang saw this time made his lips twitch as he swept his gaze over "them" heads.

They were all endangered or at a low level, except for the leader.

Another group of pitiful people marginalized by society.

They are trying to fight against the malice of the world by sticking together in this way.

They thought they were pursuing "freedom" and "individuality".

A term from the cultivation world suddenly flashed through Li Ang's mind.

"Raising Gu".

This place is a holy land for "raising Gu".

Place various poisonous insects in a container and let them bite and devour each other.

The one who survived in the end was the "Gu King".

They incite these groups to attack, hate, and consume each other.

This leaves them no time to think about who turned them into the way they are now.

They have no time to deal with existing survival issues...

They had long lost all cohesion; everyone was divided and unable to unite.

He withdrew his gaze, no longer looking at the reveling crowd.

He knew he had come to the right place.

If he looked at it a couple more times, he might actually take action.

Li Ang lost interest in the self-indulgent political performances on the streets.

He needs to find a way to truly access the core of this social class.

Instead of observing from the sidelines these "spectacles" that have been pushed to the forefront, making it difficult to distinguish between truth and falsehood.

His gaze was drawn to a classical-style building not far away.

It was an art museum.

There was no noisy crowd at the entrance, only an understated yet luxurious black marble sign with the words "Campbell Center for Contemporary Art" written in gold lettering.

Campbell.

It's that surname again.

It appears that Martin Campbell's family wields significant influence not only in business and politics, but also in the arts.

art.

In Li Ang's mind, this was also a tool of "demonic practices".

It has been used for money laundering, for transferring benefits, and for showcasing the taste and status of the upper class.

A seemingly worthless work of art can be sold for an astronomical price overnight, a price that an ordinary person could never reach in several lifetimes.

Behind this lies a hidden and cruel set of "kill line" rules.

This might be a good starting point.

Li Ang straightened his collar and walked towards the entrance of the art museum.

The security personnel at the entrance merely glanced at him politely and did not stop him.

The huge white exhibition hall, with its extremely high ceilings, gives people a sense of spaciousness and sanctity.

On the walls hang huge contemporary art paintings.

Some are a jumble of random color blocks, some are a few twisted lines, and some are simply a pure white or black.

Li Ang had absolutely no interest in these so-called "art" things.

In his "cutting line" perspective, the value of these paintings lies not in the canvas and paint, but in the complex flow of capital and power relations they represent.

There were a few visitors scattered throughout the exhibition hall.

Most of them were well-dressed and had elegant manners.

They stood before the painting, sometimes frowning in thought, sometimes nodding and smiling, and sometimes whispering to their companions about technical terms that Li Ang couldn't understand.

They are here looking for investment opportunities, social capital, and a ladder to "increase their value".

Li Ang's gaze finally settled on the back of a woman.

She stood alone in front of a painting at the far end of the exhibition hall.

It was a huge oil painting that almost covered the entire wall.

The only thing on the screen is a deep, all-encompassing blackness that seems capable of swallowing everything.

The woman wore a well-tailored black dress that revealed her beautifully shaped neck and collarbone.

Her long, dark brown curly hair, like seaweed, was casually draped over her shoulders.

She stood there quietly, as if she had become one with the deep blackness.

She exudes a unique charm.

A blend of intellect, elegance, and a subtle sense of detachment.

Like a thorny black rose blooming at midnight.

Li Ang slowly walked towards her.

As he got closer, he could see the "kill line" above her head.

[Kill threshold: High (???)]

Another question mark.

But unlike Martin Campbell's purely question mark, which represents absolute power and danger.

Behind the woman's question mark was a faint, misty gold.

What does this mean?

Li Ang didn't know.

But he knew that this woman was definitely not simple.

He walked up to her, stopped, and his gaze also fell on the completely black painting.

He didn't speak.

He simply stood there quietly, mimicking the way the people around him were, pretending to admire this "masterpiece."

The woman seemed to realize that there was another person beside her.

She turned her head slightly and glanced at Li Ang out of the corner of her eye.