America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

"Don't cry."

Chen Ming sighed, squatted down, took out a roll of US dollars from his pocket, and handed it to Marcus.

"Take the money and go home to pay your mom's rent."

"Then...what about him?"

"Didn't we agree before we came? I'll take good care of him... Don't worry, he'll go to a reputable medical institution as a research subject to help more children with deformities like him."

Chen Ming chose to tell a white lie.

"Yes, sir..." Marcus sniffed.

"The sentimental segment is over."

Chen Ming picked up the light body bag, turned around and kicked the two burly men on the ground.

"Sophia, come and lend a hand."

"You're not planning to sell them too, are you?" Sofia asked, looking somewhat surprised.

"Not now... These two guys have identities; selling them directly to the black market or medical school would easily cause trouble."

Chen Ming first fired another shot into the forehead and left chest of the other man, then bent down and groped around—besides a pistol, a dagger, and other small items, there were only two cell phones, which had no signal.

He removed the SIM card and threw it into the sewage, then smashed both phones until they were completely unusable.

"Let's just throw it in a corner and store it there. We'll bring more stuff to deal with it later... They don't have any other accomplices, do they?"

"Probably not." Sophia looked at Chen Ming, who remained expressionless after doing all this, and subconsciously swallowed.

"That would be best."

After speaking, Chen Ming turned his gaze to Marcus.

"Including you, don't forget where I just came from. I recognize your front door, and I recognize your screaming mom..."

Marcus nodded frantically upon hearing this.

"I understand, I swear I will never tell anyone!"

"That would be best."

Chen Ming picked up the body bag containing the "rat" again and turned to leave.

"Um... sir?"

Marcus suddenly called out to him again.

"Can I have your phone number?"

"I often wander around the bridge arches and homeless encampments on the north side of Long Beach, picking up bottles and things like that."

"If I find another unwanted corpse, can I exchange it with you for money? If I tell Big Taco, he'll take half..."

"I'll take them all." Chen Ming patted Marcus on the shoulder.

……

An hour later, when Old Sam saw Chen Ming drive the food truck to the cold storage, he was truly shocked.

"Delivering corpses in a food truck...you really know how to surprise people. Hollywood screenwriters would love you."

"Stop talking nonsense, this is called disguise."

Chen Ming jumped out of the car and dragged out two body bags.

Old Sam was initially nonchalant, but his eyes lit up the moment he opened the second body bag.

"Wow, this is a rare find! Many wealthy collectors like to collect these kinds of things, turning them into specimens or decorative items..."

"Both together, I'll give you six thousand five."

"Eight thousand is out of the question. They're all clean goods; I can give them directly to the medical school."

"make a deal."

Old Sam grumbled as he chewed his cigar, but his eyes never left the deformed child.

"By the way, Sam, do you know where there's a good place around here to buy late-night snacks?"

"ha?"

Old Sam was about to direct his men to move the body when he heard this and froze on the spot.

He glanced at the two eerie body bags, then at the Ford with its sign, and finally stared at Chen Ming with a look of utter disbelief.

They're actually selling them.

"Are you serious? You just unloaded two corpses, and now you're going to use this truck to sell fried rice?"

"My trunk is separate, and I've washed my hands..."

Chen Ming straightened his cuffs, speaking as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I prepared ingredients for fifty meals; we can't waste them."

"..."

Old Sam looked at Chen Ming as if he were mentally ill, then shook his head helplessly after a long while and pointed south.

"There's a processing plant to the south. In twenty minutes, a group of night shift workers will be changing shifts. They'll eat anything as long as it's cheap and hot."

Thanks.

After confirming, Chen Ming immediately drove away.

"You are an absolute and utter psychopath..."

In the passenger seat, Sophia was frantically wiping her face with a wet wipe in front of the rearview mirror, staring at Chen Ming with the eyes of someone looking at an alien.

"We just killed two people, sold two bodies, and scavenged the stinkiest sewers in Los Angeles... and now you want to sell fried rice?!"

"These are two different things."

Chen Ming turned the steering wheel and rounded the graffiti-covered street corner.

"The murder was an accident; selling fried rice was my original purpose for tonight... Besides, if this batch of rice isn't cooked, it will reflux tomorrow and the taste will be worse."

"I don't like to give up halfway through anything, and I don't like to waste rice."

As they were talking, the food cart drifted and came to a steady stop in front of the wire mesh gate of an old textile factory.

Almost simultaneously, the shrill sound of the end-of-get off work bell rang.

The once deserted factory area suddenly became lively, with hundreds of Latino and Asian workers in blue overalls, their faces full of fatigue, pouring out of the gate like a tide.

"Time to get to work."

Chen Ming pushed open the car door, pulled out a white apron from under the driver's seat, tied it on, and put on a chef's hat... He quickly transformed into a kind and approachable Chinese chef.

"boom--"

The powerful stove was ignited, and blue flames shot up half a meter high.

Chen Ming skillfully poured hot oil into the pan, and the egg mixture made a crisp "sizzle" sound as it hit the pan. Then came rice, diced ham, peas, and chopped offal.

The rich aroma quickly drifted towards the crowd on the evening breeze.

However, an embarrassing scene unfolded.

The workers did sniffle, and some even glanced back at the unfamiliar food truck, but they didn't stop walking and headed straight for an old oak tree a few dozen meters across the street.

Several taco trucks covered in fancy stickers were already parked there early in the morning, along with a stall selling Mexican grilled corn.

In just a few dozen seconds, a long queue had formed over there, with shouts in Spanish and the sizzling sound of the metal plates mingling together, creating a lively atmosphere like a festival.

On the other hand, Chen Ming's stove was burning brightly and smelled wonderful, but there were hardly any customers.

"Ha ha--"

Sofia, sitting in the passenger seat, crossed her legs and laughed.

"It seems your skills at killing are far superior to your culinary skills, Master Chef."

"Admit it, in Los Angeles' midnight scene, no one can beat those old-timers who've been selling for over a decade. These workers only recognize familiar faces."

"User stickiness...?"

Chen Ming stopped tossing the food in the pan, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and then began rummaging under the driver's seat.

"What do you want?" Sophia looked at him warily.

"You're not going to hold a gun to their heads and force them to buy your fried rice, are you?"

"How could that be? I'm a legitimate businessman. I'll always be reasonable unless absolutely necessary."

Chen Ming finally took out an electric megaphone, adjusted the volume, and cleared his throat towards the crowd in line.

"Grand opening! Fried rice for only 50 cents a serving, and the first ten customers get a free drink!"