America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a gasp of surprise.

"You really slept with her?"

"No, I was the one who got shot. I took a 9mm metal pellet in the leg while protecting her from a group of gangsters." Chen Ming flipped the fried egg over, then scooped it into the tortilla and squeezed on some ketchup.

"You've worked hard... Do you need me to remove it surgically?"

"I've already taken care of that myself. Now I just need to get rid of the four 'mannequins' still in the warehouse. You can contact the buyers."

……

Two hours later.

Chen Ming's food truck left the interstate and turned into a private estate on the outskirts of Glendale—a traditional stronghold for Russian and Armenian Americans in Los Angeles.

The large iron gate slowly slid open to both sides, and then two burly Slavic men wearing Adidas sportswear and with Orthodox cross tattoos on their necks stepped forward.

Sean pulled his Dodgers baseball cap down and handed over an access pass.

The burly man confirmed it was the right vehicle and waved for them to drive the car into the underground unloading area.

"To be honest, I feel uncomfortable every time I come to this guy's territory..." Sean complained in a low voice from the passenger seat.

"But he always gave me old, non-consecutive banknotes, and he gave me a lot of them."

"Then he's a good person."

Chen Ming followed Sean and got out of the car.

"Ah, Sean, my American brother!"

A hoarse, heavily accented Russian-accented English voice came from deep within the garage.

A gaunt, white old man pushed open the door.

He was wearing an extremely inappropriate burgundy velvet bathrobe, crocodile-skin slippers, and a glass of vodka in his hand; his skin was so pale it looked like he had some kind of skin disease.

The old man warmly opened his arms and gave Sean a hug.

"Mr. Victor, the goods have all been processed according to your requirements," Sean Qian replied with a smile.

"Needless to say, your goods always make people happy..."

The old man's gaze didn't linger on Sean for long; instead, it turned directly to Chen Ming, who was leaning on a cane to the side.

"A new face?" Victor looked Chen Ming up and down, his gaze sweeping over his shoulders and torso without any restraint.

"Well-proportioned frame, extremely low body fat... My friends from the East always surprise me, whether as friends or as artists. Did you injure your leg?"

Chen Ming frowned slightly—the old man's gaze made him extremely uncomfortable.

"It was just a minor accident; I ran into a few thugs tonight."

"It's a real shame, but the safety situation in Los Angeles is indeed getting worse and worse. Even in Beverly Hills, homeless people are rummaging through trash cans at night. If you ask me, they should all be rounded up and dealt with. It just so happens that the current president is of German descent, and they're very good at this..."

Victor grinned, revealing two rows of gold-plated false teeth.

"Would you like to come in for a drink? I just dressed the kids in 18th-century French court attire. You must visit my private wax museum."

Chen Ming instinctively wanted to refuse.

"No, I have an internship this afternoon..."

But before he could finish speaking, Sean suddenly reached out and tugged at Chen Ming's sleeve.

"Of course, Mr. Victor, we happen to have ten minutes free." Sean's face was full of smiles.

Victor nodded in satisfaction, then turned and swayed as he walked toward the basement.

"Don't talk, let's follow." Sean whispered in Chen Ming's ear.

"That old madman has something wrong with his head. He hates being rejected. The last deliveryman who didn't give him face was eventually bought by him and turned into a welcoming sculpture in the lobby... Just go along with him, take the money and leave."

Helpless, Chen Ming could only follow him into the basement.

The temperature plummeted, and the strange smell of expensive perfume mixed with formaldehyde hit us.

Chen Ming followed Sean into the exhibition hall. Under the dim, retro crystal chandelier, the hall in front of them was carefully decorated to resemble an 18th-century French court banquet.

Around the long dining table stood a dozen or so men and women dressed in elegant corset dresses and velvet coats, each in a different posture; some were raising their glasses, while others were talking with their heads down...

To the unsuspecting average person, this would be an absolute top-tier private collection comparable to Madame Tussauds.

The skin texture, pores, and even the faint blue veins on the back of the hands of the characters are extremely realistic.

But someone as knowledgeable as Chen Ming could spot the clues at a glance.

The male servants carrying trays had extremely fine barbed suture marks on their carotid arteries, while the noblewoman sitting in the main seat, wearing a strapless dress, had a pale complexion below her collarbone that only appears after a high-concentration antiseptic solution has been used to replace her blood…

They are all human bodies with their internal organs removed and filled with preservative silicone and shaping resin.

"This is my proudest series, and I call it 'The Dinner at Versailles'."

Victor, holding a bottle of vodka, moved among the bodies like a kind father, finally stopping beside the noblewoman and gently stroking her cheek.

"Last week, several art appraisers from Hollywood came to visit me. They all surrounded Mary and marveled at her, saying that even the best silicone couldn't create such a natural muscle texture. They even asked me which sculptor I had hired at such a high salary."

Victor grinned and let out a hoarse laugh.

"I told them it was God's masterpiece, and they thought I was joking."

"Yes, it is indeed a masterpiece of God."

Sean awkwardly chuckled a few times in agreement.

"Your taste is always unique, and those four new friends you just met will surely add a lot of luster to your next dinner party."

“Of course.” Victor turned his head, his gaze fixed on Chen Ming again. “What do you think, young man? Compared to the pieces of flesh cut to pieces on the dissection table, isn’t this another kind of eternity, and even more beautiful?”

Chen Ming was at a loss for words.

"The corrosion protection and replacement were done very well, and the temperature for dehydration and curing was also controlled extremely well."

He ultimately gave a professional medical evaluation.

"The technology is very advanced."

"technology?"

Victor's smile vanished instantly.

"Smack."

The wine glass fell onto the hard marble floor, splattering glass everywhere.

"Technology?! How dare you use such a despicable word as 'technology' to describe my family?!" Victor pointed at Chen Ming, his English, thick with the rolled "r" sound, echoing in the basement.

"Don't you understand that this is art? This is a sacred ritual that grants the soul immortality within a perfect body... What do you know!"

Upon hearing the commotion, the bodyguards outside the door quickly entered the exhibition hall.

Sean knew something was wrong and quickly stepped forward to block Chen Ming.

"Mr. Victor, please calm down. He's just a nerdy student fresh out of medical school; he has no idea how to appreciate your classical aesthetics!" Sean said with a forced smile, trying to smooth things over.

Don't argue with an outsider.

Chen Ming stood still, calmly meeting the old man's gaze.