America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

Chen Ming didn't waste any time admiring this "work of art," and immediately picked up the wax figure and walked back.

It's actually that simple.

The security company's defenses were indeed formidable, but the guards here were used to staying in the monitoring room and at fixed posts year after year. With the cameras and infrared alarms out of order, they were completely helpless—who would have thought that a thief would know when the system was down and also had the passwords for all the doors given to him by the boss?

There are four minutes left.

Chen Minggang carried the wax figure out of the collection room.

"squeak--"

The bathroom door at the corner of the corridor opened.

A security guard with a walkie-talkie slung across his chest and a cell phone in his hand, which was showing a baseball game, came out. He was clearly a night shift guard who had sneaked into the restroom to sneak in a smoke.

The two bumped into each other in the corridor, less than five meters apart.

However, due to the angle and lighting, the security guards only saw a pale, distorted face with a wig emerging horizontally from the other side of the wall, and did not see Chen Ming carrying it.

The security guard was stunned, and his phone fell to the ground with a thud.

Under the dim, flickering emergency lights, a face with heavy medieval makeup seemed to appear out of thin air in the center of the other side of the corridor. What was even more terrifying was that it was slowly moving forward in mid-air with a strange, flat motion.

"Fuck... what the hell is that?!"

The security guard let out a scream that was completely out of character for his burly physique. His hair stood on end, he staggered, and with the fastest speed of his career, he drew the pistol from his waist.

"Bang bang bang bang bang!"

Deafening gunshots suddenly erupted in the underground corridor.

Chen Ming cursed under his breath.

This has really caused a huge commotion...

The 9mm bullet pierced the wax figure with a dull thud. Fortunately, the artwork was filled with resin, making it a perfect heavy-duty bulletproof shield.

But from the security guard's perspective, this scene was absolutely terrifying.

He clearly saw that the bullets he fired hit the "ghost's" chest and face, but the other party did not fall down at all.

Even more terrifying, one of the bullets precisely grazed the wax figure's left cheek, causing its eyeball to roll halfway around, leaving only a large, pale area staring at it. The impact of the bullet tore its face apart, causing the "ghost's" mouth to curl up in an eerie way.

"My God...it's not afraid of bullets!" The security guard completely broke down, his hands shaking as if he were playing the piano.

Chen Ming knew he couldn't let him press the walkie-talkie to call for backup, so he took a deep breath, then suddenly exerted force on the security guard and threw the wax figure directly at him.

From a security perspective.

What he saw was the "ghost" whose face he had smashed, which let out a hiss and flew directly towards him!

"Don't come any closer! Get out of here! Evil spirits, get out of here!!!"

The security guard was terrified, frantically pulling the trigger while retreating, even shouting prayers.

"Click—"

The magazine is empty.

The security guard closed his eyes in despair, his hands instinctively flailing wildly in front of him to block the view.

The wax figure, weighing several hundred pounds, slammed into the security guard like a solid cannonball.

"Bang!"

Before the security guard could even scream, he was tackled to the ground by the heavy "ghost," his head hitting the carpet in the corridor hard, and he passed out instantly.

Chen Ming strode out of the shadows.

He glanced down at the guard pinned under the wax figure—the man was deathly pale, foaming at the mouth, and a large, dark wet patch was rapidly spreading across his tactical trousers, clearly having completely broken down in fear and wet himself a second before being knocked unconscious.

"How can someone with such poor mental fortitude be a security guard?"

Chen Ming shook his head and casually pulled off the walkie-talkie that the security guard had dropped to the side.

At this moment, the walkie-talkie was in an uproar, with crackling static mixed with anxious shouts.

"What just happened on the second basement level? Was that gunshot? Take men to the second basement level immediately! How long until the surveillance system restarts?"

"The system will be online in two minutes, and all exits will be automatically locked shortly."

There are only two minutes left.

Chen Ming shoved aside the unconscious security guard, hoisted the battered wax figure back onto his shoulder, and sprinted toward the fire escape.

……

Back alley.

The heavy metal fire door was kicked open from the inside.

Sitting in the truck cab, Old Joe was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan—the series of gunshots had terrified him so much that his palms were sweating and he almost stepped on the gas and drove off.

Seeing Chen Ming rush out carrying things, he quickly jumped out of the car and opened the back door.

"Quick, quick! I heard the sound of an empty magazine. Did you get into a firefight?!"

Old Joe roared in a low voice, rushing over to help in a flurry of activity.

Chen Ming didn't let him help, but instead threw the heavy wax figure into the carriage.

By the light of the car headlights, Old Joe looked down and saw the wax figure's face clearly.

Several dark bullet holes were embedded in his forehead and chest, one eye was rolled back and stared intently at him, and a torn corner of his mouth was twisting into a sinister and eerie smile...

"Oh my god!"

Old Joe let out a sharp scream in fright, abruptly releasing his grip and staggering back three or four steps.

"You want me to come with you in the middle of the night to steal an executed corpse? He's riddled with bullets, how come he's still laughing!"

"This is a heavy-duty bulletproof artwork, a favorite among California's twisted rich."

Chen Ming was talking nonsense. He slammed the back door shut with a loud bang and locked it.

"There was no exchange of fire, just a minor skirmish. Stop talking nonsense and get in the car! You don't want to explain yourself to security and the LAPD, do you?"

"To hell with art, this thing is a real corpse!"

Old Joe scrambled into the driver's seat, cursing every swear word he could think of, and the Ford van lurched forward.

As the truck roared out of the back alley, Chen Ming saw in his rearview mirror that the red alarm lights on the exterior wall of the Black Shield Security Headquarters building were flashing wildly.

The piercing sirens instantly tore through the Los Angeles night sky. Immediately afterward, the roller shutter door of the side entrance on the first floor roared up, and several fully armed tactical squad members rushed into the back alley with rifles at their heels.

"It's alright, almost there."

Chen Ming leaned back in the passenger seat and let out a long sigh of relief.

"Yeah, we were almost riddled with bullets!"

As Old Joe frantically steered the wheel to blend into the night traffic, he kept wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it himself.

"Seriously Chen, what the hell was that thing you threw behind you just now? I swear I saw it glaring at me!"

"Artworks, I've said it many times."

Chen Ming lowered the car window, letting the Los Angeles evening breeze blow into the car.

"Drive carefully, Joe. Once you finish this delivery, your money will be taken care of."

"I'd rather use that money to see a psychologist!" Old Joe gritted his teeth and turned on the car radio.