America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

When Chen Ming walked out of the alley, Sophia was standing under a streetlamp, chewing on a taco overflowing with sauce, her lips still smeared with bright green guacamole—a unique color of California streets.

Seeing Chen Ming approach, she mumbled something indistinctly and handed him a wrapped taco.

"Here you go, with double the hot sauce and grilled pineapple."

But halfway through reaching out, she pulled her hand back as if she'd been electrocuted.

"Wait...did you wash your hands?"

"I'm a medical student, Sophia."

Chen Ming rolled his eyes.

"When it comes to hygiene, I trust it a hundred times more than the chef inside who's probably scratching his ass."

After saying that, he took the taco and took a big bite.

Crispy tortillas wrapped around fragrant roasted pork, with sauce and oil exploding on the tongue, create an addictive flavor.

The only downside is that it's too oily.

No wonder "big tacos" can eat themselves into mobile meat mountains. Every bite of these things is a real calorie bomb, yet they are the cheapest street food.

A few minutes later, the two got back into the car.

When Chen Ming fastened his seatbelt, his jacket was pulled, inevitably causing a noticeable bulge to appear around his waist.

Sofia noticed this.

"Hey, what's in your pants? They're bulging..."

She took a bite of the second taco in her hand.

"Don't tell me you stole a whole roll of toilet paper from the bathroom."

"I was just lucky; I saw a little thing that nobody wanted on the roadside and picked it up."

"What did you pick up? Let me see..."

Before he finished speaking, Chen Ming took out a Glock and twirled it between his fingers.

"!!"

Sofia's eyes widened instantly, and she instinctively tightened her grip on Taco's right hand.

"Sizzle—"

The sauce erupted like a volcano, spraying from the taco's tail onto her face and soaking her entire T-shirt.

"Shit!!"

Sofia looked at the horrific state of her chest and let out a wail.

"Didn't anyone teach you not to pull out your gun so easily? Adding to what happened last night, you've made me lose another piece of clothing!"

"It was your own choice to watch it, I didn't force you." Chen Ming chuckled to himself as he looked in the rearview mirror.

"Shut up, Chen! This is my favorite limited edition!"

Accompanied by Sofia's indistinct curses, Chen Ming held the steering wheel with one hand, making the Corolla weave through the streets of East Los Angeles like a fish.

After seemingly aimlessly circling the streets twice, the car stopped in front of a motel called "Pink Flamingo".

The flamingo on the sign had a broken leg, the light bulbs were hissing, and it exuded an unsettling sense of cheapness.

"These budget hotels are a mixed bag; could we recruit an informant there?"

Chen Ming turned off the engine and raised a reasonable question.

"Ha, do you think informants are as easy as cabbages?"

Sofia crumpled the used wet wipe into a ball and threw it out the window.

"But given your luck in finding a gun even while using the restroom... go ahead and give it a try, lucky boy. I'm not going down yet; I smell like a human-shaped burrito right now."

Chen Ming shrugged and got out of the car.

The hotel lobby was dimly lit, and the air was filled with the musty smell of old carpets.

A young white man, as thin as a bamboo pole, was sitting at the front desk, wearing headphones and playing guitar into thin air, completely immersed in his own world.

Chen Ming banged on the counter twice.

The man with the bamboo pole was startled, took off his headphones, and looked up with an impatient expression.

"We're full. If you'd like someone to play an instrument for you, just turn left and there's one in the alley outside..."

But before he could finish speaking, a dark green banknote gently slid into his hand.

"I'm not looking for a room, nor am I looking for a woman."

Chen Ming wore a gentle smile.

"I'm looking for a friend; he checked in a few hours ago."

"Hundreds of people check in here every day, how am I supposed to know who they are?" the skinny man complained, but his hands were honestly clutching the money.

"He's easy to recognize."

"A young man who looked like he was visiting a place like this for the first time was flustered and was dragging a very large and heavy suitcase."

"You know, the kind of luggage you don't want anyone to see."

"...At the end of the second floor, 204 square meters."

The man with the bamboo pole put away the money, then his eyes suddenly sharpened.

"Listen up, buddy, whether you're gay or dividing the spoils, don't make too much noise."

"My boss plays golf with the local sheriff every weekend. If there are any gunshots or disturbances here, they will surround the area very quickly."

"Don't worry, we're just catching up."

Chen Ming turned and walked towards the dimly lit stairwell.

Upon arriving on the second floor, he didn't even need to check the room number; as soon as he approached the corridor, a pungent smell filled his nostrils.

The high concentration of formalin is mixed with phenol and has a lemon freshener scent that tries to mask the odor.

"What an amateur...does he think he's pickling vegetables?"

Chen Ming grumbled inwardly, pondering how to quietly deal with his colleagues inside.

Break down the door directly?

He mentally simulated the scene.

Kicking down the door, rushing in, threatening with a gun...

This process looks impressive, but it's extremely risky.

Although the cheap composite wood door couldn't stop his current 24 points of strength, the loud noise of kicking the door would definitely alarm the entire floor.

Secondly, although the person working there is a newbie, since they dare to do this job, they probably have some skills.

Chen Ming was very self-aware of his marksmanship—he had only just learned how to disengage the safety by searching on Google.

As for sneaking in and picking locks at night... medical school doesn't teach that, and the system didn't give him any skill books for it.

We'll have to resort to some classic tactics.

Chen Mingsong straightened his collar, took a deep breath, and made his voice sound like that of a middle-aged cleaner before gently knocking on the door.

"Who?!"

A young male voice immediately came from inside.

"Room cleaning, sir."

Chen Ming's tone carried a hint of impatience.

"The tenant next door complained that there's a smell of dead rat coming from your room through the ventilation duct. I need to come in and check if there are any dead rats in the duct."

"There are no dead rats here, my place is very clean, no cleaning needed!"

"Listen, buddy, I don't want to work overtime either."

Seeing this, Chen Ming raised his voice and even deliberately kicked the door to create a sense of agitation.

"But the smell has already spread to the hallway. If you don't open the door, I'll have to either call someone to bring the key up or call the police."

Silence fell over the room.

After a commotion, Chen Ming heard footsteps approaching the door.

"Click".

The door was carefully pushed open, revealing a young Asian face covered in sweat.

"You can only look at it once, and you're not allowed to touch anything, or I'll complain..."