I work as a sorcerer in the US, and my side hustle is building Gundams.

During this period, Lynn earned approximately $15000 through various psychic practices and by selling antidotes, Lion King's Power potions, linen bandages, and basic healing potions.

He saved 1 yuan of it, and used the other 5000 yuan as raw materials for several alchemical and first-aid products, as well as the cost of purchasing medicines from stores.

Today, he donated another $3000 to purchase brand new tents and heating equipment for everyone.

Having moved into the new tents, feeling warm all over, and with clean food and water, everyone's hearts were filled with happiness and gratitude.

It can be said that he is now the central figure and leader of the entire Fountain Gang, and everyone follows his lead and is willing to do anything to protect Lynn's safety.

The homeless people who had gathered in the square in the past few days all wisely left after seeing such a large group of people return.

A few short-sighted thugs, relying on their courage, tried to fight them, but Lynn and Mike didn't even step in. Instead, Jack and two other young gang members taught them a lesson with metal baseball bats.

After all, they are now well-fed and well-hydrated, with plenty of energy and good health, making them far superior to those malnourished thugs who take excessive supplements.

In a few days, Lynn also planned to rent a proper apartment nearby so that she and Mike could move out of that cramped basement and live in a more formal and comfortable place.

"Hey Mike, is the boss inside?!"

Lynn was in his basement, not far from Pioneer Square, happily putting a Glock into his backpack and taking it out again, when he heard Daniel's deep, honest black voice coming from outside the tent.

He quickly put the gun back into his backpack, then pretended to pick up a magazine and start reading.

"Hey, boss!"

Daniel was tall and fat, and after squeezing through the basement door, he looked very cramped standing in front of me.

"Hey Daniel, what's up? What's wrong? You seem to be in a hurry."

"Yes, something's up. That Asian guy from Chinatown you asked us to keep an eye on has recently reappeared..."

His voice sounded hoarse and dry, clearly from running all the way and he was exhausted.

Lynn picked up a cup from the table, poured half a cup of hot coffee from the coffee pot, and handed it to him.

The guy didn't mind the heat; he picked up the cup, gulped it down in two big gulps, and let out a satisfied burp.

"Take a breath and speak slowly."

There was a folding chair right next to him, but Lynn didn't dare let him sit down. Not to mention whether his big butt could fit, the chair would fall apart if he sat down.

"We pretended to be painters and kept an eye on him. The kid left early this morning and went to meet a middle-aged man who looked very Italian. DeSean and I strolled over, pretending to paint a phone booth next door, and then we overheard their conversation."

Daniel rubbed his dark, chubby hands together, his face full of a boastful expression.

"I heard the Asian guy ask about the other person's identity. From his repetition and questions, I could deduce that the man was a retired soldier of the Italian Navy Special Forces, guaranteeing his excellent tracking skills and marksmanship."

"Then he asked the other party if he needed to provide a weapon, and the other party seemed to say no, as he already had a Beretta M93R with a 9mm silencer, which he was very comfortable using."

"Then they started discussing the time and place. Since you and the Fountain Gang went into hiding recently, they couldn't find you for a while. But they mentioned that someone was lying in wait in Vanguard Square, waiting for you to come back so they could tip you off. I think they should already know you're back by now."

At this point, the chubby man turned his head and looked anxiously towards the door.

"Boss, you must be extremely careful! It's best to wear a bulletproof vest at all times, and have guards both overt and covertly positioned around you. It's best to avoid open areas..."

Both he and DeShawn cherish this hard-won good life they have now.

The two were originally just street thugs, sometimes starving, sometimes full, then starving again...

If they hadn't been lucky enough to run into Lynn that day, they really would have died at the hands of those two damned corrupt cops.

"Okay, I understand, Daniel. Thank you and DeSean for your work. I'll be careful with safety and security. Here, this is a bottle of a new agility potion that I developed to increase the user's nimbleness."

As he spoke, Lynn took out a small, square bottle, about the size of a thumb, containing a pure green solution from his pocket and handed it to the fat man, Daniel.

"This is an agility potion. Daniel, I believe your defense and strength are sufficient, but you are usually a bit clumsy. When you feel that something is dangerous, you can drink one of these. It will greatly improve your reaction speed and movement speed."

"Boss, you've developed another amazing gadget? That's fantastic! I think boxers would absolutely love this. How about this, I know some underground boxers, I'll take this to them and ask if they're interested?"

Daniel held the tiny bottle, which seemed like a miniature oral liquid to him, as if it were a priceless treasure, and offered his advice.

"Oh? That's a good idea. Okay, Daniel, I'll give you two more bottles. Go try them out. It's still the same price, $300. After taking it, it will increase your agility by about 25% to 30%, lasting for an hour, and it will be absolutely undetectable afterward."

"That's fantastic! Boss, I'm off right now! Haha, it looks like our Fountain Gang is about to strike it rich!"

Darniel, carrying three bottles of [Basic Agility Potion], happily squeezed out of the basement door and nimbly disappeared into the distance, just like a fat rabbit.

"Heh, this guy..."

Watching Daniel's cheerful figure disappear into the distance, Lynn couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head, but the next moment a sense of vigilance immediately gripped his heart.

"Damn it, I haven't even investigated the person he hired yet, and he's already found a new hitman, and a retired special forces soldier at that..."

Lynn smacked her lips, racking her brains for a way to break the deadlock.

……

At the same time, in a Seattle suburb, in a very luxurious detached house with a plaque bearing the word "Roman" on the mailbox at the entrance.

The well-mannered middle-aged man who had spoken with the Asian man through the window in the coffee shop was now sitting on the expensive sofa in the living room, making a phone call.

"Yes, sir. After a long investigation, I have found the guy who made Marshall suddenly change his attitude and not want to cooperate with us again before he went to meet with him."

The middle-aged man held the telephone receiver. Although he had an extraordinary demeanor, it was clear from the conversation that he was the one in a subordinate position.

"Yes, sir. I did a brief investigation into him. He's just an ordinary homeless man on the street. I don't know what kind of spell he cast on that perfect test subject to make him stop accepting our 'treatment'."

"We also investigated this guy. Three months ago, he was a well-known stand-up comedian in the city, but he lost his job because of some things. After separating from his wife, he was also hit by a car, but miraculously he did not die. Instead, he started doing some strange and mystical activities, claiming that he was a witch doctor blessed by the Loa of Voodoo."

"Then, with these little tricks he came up with, he successfully fooled some lowly homeless people and made a small fortune. But in my opinion, he simply got hold of some antibiotics from somewhere and then used deceptive methods to mix them into those strange medicines and bandages..."

"Yes, yes, I know. A man with such a saintly heart should go to heaven soon, receive Christ's call, and enjoy his blessings. So I've already contacted a gang intermediary and hired a professional gunman who used to be a special forces soldier to take him out. I should get good news soon that he has embraced the Lord, so you don't need to worry about it anymore."

After hanging up the phone, the middle-aged man, feeling a little thirsty, picked up a cup of coffee and sipped it gently.

Roman's brows relaxed, and his face was calm. He didn't seem to regard the matter as something difficult at all, as if he had just completed a simple action like eating or dressing.

He was completely unaware that there was a patch of light and shadow flickering at his feet not far away, like the distorted air after being scorched by the blazing sun on a summer afternoon.

He drank his coffee for a while longer, then stood up, walked to the fireplace in the center of the living room, and pressed the nose of the stag specimen hanging on the wall next to it.

"Boom!"

The entire fireplace wall split in the middle and slid to both sides, revealing a metal passage that was two meters high and two meters wide. Bright lights were installed on the ceiling and sides inside. Roman stepped inside, and the outer fireplace wall closed inward.

He continued walking forward, and at a corner 5 meters away, he walked another 5 meters to the left, then to the right, and arrived in front of a large door.

He bent down and aimed his right eye at a small hole on the palm-sized instrument panel on the right side.

"Iris scan correct. Welcome, Dr. Jenkins Roman."

The main door in front opened, revealing a bright hall where several young women in white nurse uniforms were busily moving about. Some high-tech instruments, completely incomprehensible to outsiders, flashed with incomprehensible indicator lights.

On the operating table, which is about half the height of a person, to the right front, lies a naked, strong young black man with his eyes closed and limbs relaxed, clearly having already lost consciousness.

"Dr. Roman."

People around him greeted him politely, and with the help of his assistant, he took off his coat and put on a full-body surgical gown.

After some preparation, he put on blue surgical gloves, stood next to the unconscious black man, and selected the most suitable scalpel from the tray of scalpels beside him.

Then, as lightly as cutting butter, she gently made a long incision on the black man's kidney.