America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

"Go to the garage, there's a black Chevrolet Suburban inside."

"That was my spare car when I did side jobs... It had a new high-powered engine and bulletproof glass all over the car, and it had the license plate of a bankrupt security company."

"But this car can't hold many people, can it?" Chen Ming said, taking the keys.

"Therefore, we need to be prepared for both possibilities."

Sean pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses.

"You can drive your food truck over there and park it in a safe spot a block away from the garage."

"Then we'd drive this Chevrolet to the appointment. If everything went smoothly, we could slowly transfer the goods to the food truck and drive away. If things went wrong or the police came, we'd still have a chance to escape..."

"Understood." Chen Ming nodded.

At this point, the puzzle is basically complete.

……

Three days later, in the old town of Los Angeles.

The night, like a moldy old blanket, enveloped this abandoned school district, long forgotten by the municipal planning.

The black Chevrolet Suburban glided silently across the road and finally came to a stop in the shadow of an unfinished building—150 meters from the entrance to the underground parking garage, the agreed meeting point, offering a wide view and a perfect observation vantage point.

Inside the car, Professor Evans was clutching a brown paper bag tightly in his arms—it contained a small amount of real money and US dollar ghost money that Chen Ming had bought online.

"My God..."

The old professor was pale, and his forehead was covered in sweat.

"Chen, give me some tissues, I feel like my clothes are almost soaked with sweat."

"No, Professor."

Chen Ming sat in the driver's seat, adjusting the angle of the rearview mirror while chewing mint gum.

"Maintaining this level of sweating makes your fear and tension seem more real...that way, those thugs will lower their guard."

"Okay, but aren't we a little too early?"

Evans glanced out the window.

"The first step to gaining the initiative on the battlefield is to get there before the enemy." Chen Ming turned off the engine and the headlights.

"Now we need to lie down like crocodiles and count exactly how many little rabbits will jump into the pit tonight..."

Time passed second by second until a roar of exhaust pipes came from afar.

A brightly modified purple Lincoln, resembling a drunken elephant, wobbled and stopped at the parking lot entrance.

"They're here."

Chen Ming squinted and leaned forward.

The car door opened, and several Latino men wearing oversized jerseys and gold chains around their necks stepped out.

They walked along, cigarettes between their fingers, talking and laughing loudly and without restraint. One of them, a man with a scar on his face, even urinated against the corner of the wall.

"One, two, three, four."

Chen Ming called out the numbers in a low voice.

"Four?" Evans' voice trembled slightly.

"Scarface said he would come alone..."

"That was a verbal promise, but clearly our Mr. Scarface isn't as tough as he seems, and he even brought three bodyguards with him."

Chen Ming took out his binoculars and carefully observed the group of people.

The first person on the left, wearing a Lakers jersey, and the scarred man both had bulging waists, suggesting they both possessed handguns. The other two were carrying baseball bats and folding knives...

"It was easier to handle than I expected."

"Easy?!" Evans' eyes widened.

"There are four of them, and they're all armed! Chen, let's get out of here, this is insane..."

"It's been taken down. Your recording and photos will be on the front page of the Los Angeles Times tomorrow."

Chen Ming pressed down on Evans' trembling shoulders.

"Listen, Professor, you're in perfect shape right now—they won't doubt it."

"Take the money and go down, and act according to the script we've rehearsed."

"Once we confirm he doesn't have a backup recording... we'll handle the rest."

"All right……"

The old professor shakily pushed open the car door, clutching his money bag, and walked into the night.

Chen Ming then pulled out a black nylon bag from under the passenger seat, put on gloves and a Batman mask he had bought online, and then inserted two syringes filled with medicine into a hidden pocket in his sleeve.

After finishing his preparations, Chen Ming sent a text message to Sean.

"Showtime (the show is about to begin)."

……

A few minutes later, at the other end of the underground parking garage.

Chen Ming and Sean squatted side by side in the corner, their eyes focused on a tablet computer that emitted a blue light—showing the real-time view from the pinhole camera in Evans' collar.

In the video, Scarface roughly takes the bag and briefly flips through the top stacks of US dollars.

"Do you think he'll delete the recording?" Sean, wearing a stocking hood, looked at Chen Ming.

"If I were him, I wouldn't... This is clearly a long-term meal ticket." Chen Ming shrugged.

"Also... why did you choose to wear this kind of hood? Doesn't it hurt?"

"This is a high-end product, very breathable. It was a gift from a female client of mine, and she's a big star. You should have seen her movies." Sean's tone remained calm.

"You didn't wear it before, did you?" Chen Ming's expression was somewhat complicated upon hearing this.

Sean remained silent upon hearing this, only staring intently at the tablet.

As expected, the scarred man on the screen did not take out his phone to delete the recording as agreed.

He tossed the bag containing $50,000 to his men, then pulled out a Glock and started playing with it in front of Evans.

"Thank you for your generous professorship; this 50,000 yuan truly reflects your sincerity."

"Then... what about the recording?" Evans swallowed hard.

"Don't rush."

Scarface patted Evans' cheek.

"Do you know how fast prices are rising in Los Angeles right now? $50,000 can't buy back your innocence for life."

"This 50,000 yuan is considered a confidentiality fee for this period, valid for six months."

"You'll need to bring another 50,000 yuan in six months. As long as you renew your subscription on time, I guarantee the reporters will never get the full recording. That's fair, right? Just like subscribing to Netflix..."

Evans froze on the spot upon hearing this.

"Subscription-based extortion? This guy has some business acumen, but not much..."

Chen Ming shook his head as he watched the screen, seemingly having anticipated the outcome, and even yawned.

Sean closed the tablet computer with a blank expression.

"I'll draw attention at the front gate, you cut off their retreat... How's your aim?"

"I can take down two guys with pistols and an AR15 all by myself," Chen Ming stated truthfully, revealing his combat record.

Upon hearing this, Sean said nothing and silently parted ways with Chen Ming.

……

In the center of the garage, after forcing Evans to leave, Scarface was putting his gun back into his waistband.

"puff."

The sudden sound was like someone opening a bottle of champagne in the distance.

The big guy next to him, wearing a Lakers jersey, didn't even utter a sound before crashing straight onto the concrete, a bloody hole appearing in his chest.

"Who?!"

Scarface was so frightened that his hand trembled, and he tried to raise his gun to find cover.

But death was already behind him.