America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

The pipe wrench struck his food cart parked outside, smashing a large dent into the already flimsy windshield, rendering it completely unusable.

"Damn it..."

Chen Ming couldn't help but curse inwardly.

He still had some affection for his food truck, which he named "Son of the Soul." He'd been using it to transport corpses and buy fried rice these past few days. Although it was getting old, it was still pretty reliable...

Most importantly, it only cost four thousand dollars—if it were damaged, where would I find another extended dining car that only costs four thousand dollars!

Chen Ming sighed, walked outside and picked up the pipe wrench from the ground.

"Who threw that?"

He walked back to the workshop and threw the pipe wrench onto the oil drum lid with a loud "bang".

The five burly men turned their heads in unison. The leader touched the tattoo on his bald head and grinned.

"I threw it away, so what? Want me to pay you a few dollars to buy a hot dog?"

The other four burst into laughter.

"A used windshield for a Ford E-Series costs two hundred dollars at an auto parts store," Chen Ming sighed, silently rolling up his sleeves.

"Add in my emotional distress to make it a round number... Hector, how much will it cost to modify the car in total?"

"Probably around three thousand..." Hector didn't understand why Chen Ming asked this, but he still answered.

"Fine, give me three thousand yuan now and we'll call it even." Chen Ming asked, then turned to look at the group.

"Three thousand yuan?" The burly man looked at his companion in an exaggerated manner upon hearing this.

"Guys, did you hear that? This Asian idiot asked me for three thousand dollars!"

Before the burly man's laughter had even faded, Chen Ming had already stepped forward.

He's too lazy to waste words with these street thugs now. Their only redeeming quality is that hitting them yields gold coins, and they never call the police...

Ten seconds passed.

Hide behind the worktable, Hector didn't even see the specific punching motion, only hearing a few dull impacts and the cracking sound of bones dislocating.

The five muscular men who had been so arrogant just moments before were now lying haphazardly on the oil-splattered cement floor, clutching their dislocated joints and groaning in pain.

Chen Ming dusted off his sleeves and squatted down in front of the burly man in the lead.

"Can you understand now?"

The burly man, his face bruised and swollen, clutched his broken ribs and wept bitterly.

"I...I really don't have three thousand dollars, bro. We usually don't carry more than two hundred dollars in cash. I spent it all on marijuana last night."

"No cash? No problem... Give me your phone." Chen Ming smiled and held out his hand to him.

A few minutes later, under Chen Ming's remote guidance, the burly man moved his face up and down, quickly securing a payday loan...

"Dude, the weekly interest rate for these online loans is as high as 30%. If you don't pay on time, the debt collection gang behind them will kill you..." The burly man trembled as he watched Chen Ming learn about the operation.

"Which hurts more, the debt collector chopping you up after they start collecting debts, or me breaking all four of your limbs right now?"

Chen Ming spoke calmly, lightly placing his foot on the strong man's intact left knee.

The burly man immediately shut up.

Three minutes later.

A quick loan of three thousand US dollars was approved and deposited into the strong man's account, and then transferred to Chen Ming.

"Look at you, you're rich now. Be careful when you lose things in the future, don't keep breaking people's windows." Chen Ming patted the burly man's face, then got up to look at Hector.

"Let's get started, I'll transfer the money now."

Hector, standing to the side, realized he had run into a tough opponent.

The old man picked up the cutting machine and welding torch and started working immediately, putting in tremendous effort and using high-quality materials. Chen Ming, on the other hand, dragged a tattered folding chair over and sat down next to him, chatting with someone who seemed a little bored as he listened to the sound of the drill.

"What was that bald guy talking about about the competition?" Chen Ming asked casually.

"How can you lose tens of thousands of dollars in one night driving a car?"

Hector turned off the cutter and pushed up his safety goggles.

"These guys are running illegal car races." The old man wiped his sweat with a dirty towel.

"It happens every week in the abandoned industrial area near Sixth Street. It's full of gangsters, drug dealers, and thrill-seeking rich kids. There are no rules; you just have to make it to the finish line alive."

"This bald guy bet his car last night, and his arch-rival rammed him off the track while cornering, losing over 20,000 yuan. He's only come to me today to vent his anger..."

"Is the prize money high?" Chen Ming raised an eyebrow.

"It depends on how big the bookmaker's betting odds are. If they win a big game, they can take away hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash." Hector pulled down his goggles again and picked up the welding torch.

"But this is a life-threatening job; if it crashes and catches fire, there's no need for an ambulance."

Upon hearing that there was over ten thousand yuan in cash, Chen Ming's eyes flickered slightly.

After overcoming difficulties through several high-speed chases, he gradually became interested in this adrenaline-pumping activity, and it would be great if he could make some more money from it.

"Do they accept the fate of outsiders?"

"Just pay the entrance fee." Hector turned to look at Chen Ming.

"Why are you asking this? Are you planning to drive a food truck and race a bunch of drug-addled lunatics?"

"Do you look down on food trucks?" Chen Ming raised an eyebrow.

"I could drive a food truck and still blow up LAPD..."

"I believe that, but the police in Los Angeles aren't very good drivers. You'd be more likely to be able to outrun an ASP."

"Whatever." Chen Ming turned around and walked up to the bald man, kicking his thigh.

Which of the three cars outside is yours?

"The black Dodge in the middle is mine..." The bald man clutched his ribs, trembling.

"Dude, what exactly do you want?"

"Lend me your car for one night, and give me the keys."

"..."

Baldy didn't dare to say anything, and tremblingly took out the car keys and handed them over. Chen Ming then threw the keys to Hector.

"Can this car even run?"

Hector caught the key, glanced at it, and snorted coldly.

"I modified his car, so of course he can drive it. It's just that his skill level is too low. If you want to try, I can adjust it for you for free."

……

Late at night, in the abandoned industrial area of ​​Sixth Street.

The deafening roar of West Coast rap revival engines surrounded hundreds of gangsters and scantily clad placard girls.

Chen Ming, with one hand on the steering wheel, slowly drove his all-black Dodge Gallard into the arena.

As soon as I parked the car in front of the starting line, a Black registrar with a gold chain around his neck knocked on the window.

"New face... Do you know the rules? Registration fee is one thousand, and you're responsible for any injuries or deaths."

Chen Ming rolled down the car window and handed over ten Franklin bills.

How many people are in first place tonight?

The Black registrar grinned as he counted the money.

"The first place winner gets 40,000 in cash... What, you Asian guy, you want to win too?"

No sooner had he finished speaking than a bright green Chevrolet with a flamboyant paint job pulled up beside him.

The car window rolled down, and a burly white man with a cigarette dangling from his lips leaned out, giving Chen Ming's Dodge a once-over.

"Oh, isn't this the wrecked car I rammed off the track yesterday? That bald bastard was too scared to come, so he hired a driver to die?"

The white man exhaled a smoke ring and gave Chen Ming the middle finger.