America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

Having learned his lesson from the bar incident, Chen Ming now keeps a gun close at hand, with a Glock tucked into his waistband. Viktor is only a few meters away from him—a distance from which Chen Ming could take him hostage in an instant.

After a few seconds of eye contact, Victor suddenly laughed again, a sinister laugh.

"That's true... I can't expect everyone to understand what art is quickly; you have to experience it for yourself."

"Give them the money, I need to prepare some new themes."

After saying that, the old man gave Chen Ming's injured leg a meaningful look, then turned and left.

A few minutes later, the food truck drove out of the manor.

As the door closed in the rearview mirror, Sean let out a long sigh and turned to complain.

"You could have at least given him a little face. These kinds of eccentric rich people fall for flattery... If Victor had gone crazy and ordered his bodyguards to attack, we would have at least gotten a good beating today."

"I can't stand this kind of pervert, and I'm confident I can put a gun to his head in an instant."

Chen Ming responded while driving.

"The way he looked at my legs at the end was absolutely disgusting... Are there many perverts like him among rich people?"

Upon hearing this question, Sean gave a subtle look and hesitated for two seconds before speaking.

"Chen... Don't be fooled by my frequent trips to Hollywood and my connections with many A-list celebrities."

Sean's tone was somewhat self-deprecating.

"But I can't even get close to the very top circle of the truly wealthy and powerful in this country, not even Viktor can squeeze in."

Chen Ming was somewhat surprised.

"This oligarch, who fled from Russia to the United States, has been desperately trying to integrate into Los Angeles' high society," Sean sneered.

"But in the eyes of California's old money families, he was at best an outsider who had become rich overnight."

"Including his creation of this bizarre wax museum, and even the elaborate process of inviting the mayor and Hollywood appraisers to his home for visits—do you really think it's all for art?"

"He just wanted to use this kind of novelty as a stepping stone to cater to the unfathomable and perverse tastes of certain big shots in the top circles."

"So, those really big shots are playing even more elaborate games than him?" Chen Ming turned to look at Sean, whose expression remained calm.

He said nothing, yet it was as if he had said everything.

……

It was already afternoon when I got back to the apartment.

Chen Ming locked the door, drew the curtains tightly, and poured all the old banknotes he had received onto the folding table, with hundred-dollar bills scattered all over the table.

He pulled out a chair, sat down, and began to take stock of all his assets.

Thanks to Sean's insistence, he received 60% of the money Victor gave him today. Combined with the cash he had received from the body trafficking business and Michelle's checks over this period, he had a total of over $35,000.

The stolen goods he had hidden in the closet were conservatively estimated to be worth over 20,000 yuan, plus the money he earned from doing simple "garbage scavenging" tasks in the system every day and occasionally working from a food truck...

Chen Ming listed several sets of numbers on a piece of paper and simply added them together.

He now has over $60,000 in assets—enough to pay off his loans and tuition so he can return to school.

But the biggest gains are in terms of time and attribute improvement.

It took him less than two months to go from being desperate to raising the money, and he also improved his physical fitness to the level of a top athlete in all events. And now, there are still several months before the start of the next medical school semester...

If he uses this time properly, he could earn several more $60,000s and upgrade his attributes to another level.

Chen Ming leaned back in his chair and began to re-plan how to allocate his energy.

First, there's Professor Evans' underground corpse supply chain.

The business is currently stable, but the problem is that the process of collecting goods at the grassroots level is too cumbersome, and most of the time the earnings are not much, only one or two hundred yuan a day.

Chen Ming crossed out the word "collect" in his notebook.

His current physical condition and reaction ability far exceed those of ordinary people, so there is no need for him to drive a food truck to nursing homes or motels in the early morning to move rotting corpses for a few hundred dollars a day—that's the job of low-level corpse transporters.

From then on, he wouldn't accept anything unless the informant confirmed it was a high-value "rare item".

As for Michelle…

Chen Ming frowned slightly as he looked at the $10,000 check on the table.

This rich young lady is indeed very generous; a single check she casually wrote could be worth several months' worth of his fried rice business. However, the risk factor is also extremely high.

She, a female reporter without any protection, dared to venture alone into the back alley of a gang-controlled bar to secretly photograph Hollywood male stars. If she had a skilled bodyguard like myself with her, who knows what kind of big shot this woman would mess with in order to get a headline...

This money is easy to earn, but it absolutely cannot be made your main job... You have to keep the initiative in your own hands.

Chen Ming drew circles and dots in his notebook, and finally circled the word "fighting".

His physical qualities have reached the level of top athletes. Coupled with his medical student's understanding of human weaknesses and his already somewhat accomplished boxing skills, it would be a waste not to use this combination of advantages.

Having made up his mind, Chen Ming stuffed the cash on the table into the hidden compartment under the bed and the wardrobe in batches, and changed into a clean tracksuit.

After his treatment, the pain in the leg wound has been greatly reduced. As long as he doesn't exert extreme force with his leg, there is no noticeable difference when walking normally.

Half an hour later.

Chen Ming pushed open the glass door of the "Beast" fighting arena.

There weren't many people in the gym in the afternoon; only a few muscular, strong men were hitting the punching bag by the ring.

"Hey Chen, you're here so early today?"

Jack was leaning against the edge of the octagon drinking water, with a towel draped around his neck. He grinned as soon as he saw Chen Ming.

Although Chen Ming was the most powerful puncher among all the students he had ever taught, and he had even knocked him out in the ring before, his feelings for Chen Ming were also genuine.

There was no way around it; Chen Ming had paid too much tuition.

"I thought you'd been busy cutting frogs at the hospital lately, or maybe you've been practicing boxing?"

"No, I have something else I want to ask you today."

Chen Ming walked to the octagonal cage and went straight to the point.

"Can you find me some competitions... the kind that can make money?"

"God, you've finally figured it out!"

Jack was stunned for a moment upon hearing this, then roared and pounced on Chen Ming with his two hairy arms outstretched.

Seeing this, Chen Ming deftly sidestepped, causing Chen Ming to miss his target.

But Jack wasn't angry at all; instead, he continued to talk non-stop.

"With your abnormal strength, speed, and learning ability, it would be a complete waste to just hit the punching bag every day."

"Believe me, if you're willing to fight in the UFC or boxing, you'll quickly become a superstar or even a world champion..."