Esoteric Buddhism: To live as king in America

"Where are you heading? Neither the headquarters nor the branch office are in this direction."

The sniper's eyelids twitched, and a bad feeling rose in his heart. He first looked at the policeman sitting next to him, but the policeman just sat there like a dead statue, without making any movement.

A deathly silence filled the carriage. Only through the police car's rearview mirror could the sniper see a strange, pleased smile on the face of the officer in the driver's seat.

"Who knows, Mr. Anthony Fields."

The officer driving the car spoke, his voice light and cheerful.

"Maybe this car... is heading straight for hell?"

Upon hearing this name, the sniper's heart sank into an icy abyss.

"Anthony Field"—this was his real name, which he hadn't used for twenty years. Even on his identification documents when he wasn't disguised, it wasn't this name anymore.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

The sniper's voice turned cold, and his handcuffed hands tensed secretly, searching for an opportunity to break free.

The police officer driving the car just stuck out his tongue.

"Me? I'm a police officer. What else do police officers do? Naturally, we extract all the information from criminals. Come on, tell me about the target you failed to assassinate. What exactly happened to him?"

The sniper's mind raced.

Was the other person a fellow assassin? Or their employer? None of that mattered anymore. The other person had revealed that name, which crossed the deepest line in the assassin's profession.

Say something random to get by, then find a chance to slip away...

The sniper made up his mind and was about to speak when he suddenly felt a strange choking sensation in his throat.

His eyes rolled downwards, trying to find the source of his discomfort. Then he saw it—his own headless body, blood gushing out.

"This is--"

Horror froze in the sniper's wide eyes, and the last glimmer of hope vanished completely.

The "police officer" in the driver's seat released the steering wheel and gently cradled the sniper's head against his chest.

"I originally wanted to ask you some proper questions."

He whispered to the lifeless head, his tone tinged with regret.

"But thinking about it carefully, you might not be willing to tell the truth. So I took it off myself to take a look."

The police car turned into a quiet alley. In the deserted corner, the car, along with its passengers, instantly dissolved like melting wax figures, transforming into a man in a black trench coat.

Thank you for your hospitality.

The man gently stroked the head in his arms, whispering contentedly, his pupil-less eyes gleaming as if he were reading something.

"Found it!"

About a minute passed, and a look of joy appeared on the man's face, but soon he frowned, his expression replaced by doubt.

What do you mean by "the other party is a naked man"?

…………

Those who toil in darkness cannot appear in the light.

Mian deeply agreed with this ancient saying. After all, it profoundly illustrates that those lurking in the shadows are not necessarily naked perverts, but could also be assassins defending freedom or ninjas seeking revenge for their families.

Then a chilly autumn breeze swept through the room, making Mian shiver.

Damn it, why does the Holy Armor have to have a setting where you have to take off the outer garment to restore its state? Isn't this forcing me to run around naked?

Hidden in the shadows, Mian dared not reveal himself, and a silent scream escaped his lips. Yet, at this moment, he had no choice, for he was heading toward the very beginning, the alley beside the inn where the original owner had committed suicide, the place where Mian had been hit by a dump truck and lost his holy sword.

To protect his life and dignity, Mian exhausted all the knowledge he had gained from various stealth games, hiding in blind spots of darkness and invisibility as he moved toward this side.

Ayn followed cautiously behind him. Mian had never been so grateful to have such a mentally ill companion. At least, after Ayn questioned her about Mian undressing, Mian simply recounted what she had seen from the shards of the mirror, and Ayn, with the characteristic quickness of a mentally ill person, simply hummed in agreement and asked no further questions. Otherwise, before being killed by a potential enemy, Mian might have died from the shattering of her self-esteem.

But this torment is finally coming to an end; he is getting close to that place!

Mian cautiously peeked out from around the corner and peered into the alley.

The dump truck that had been speeding around was nowhere to be seen, but the damage it had left in the narrow alley was still clearly visible. Various objects had been blown to the ground everywhere, making it impossible to see where the Holy Sword was.

The only saving grace is that the area is not surrounded by police or gangs, but it is still worth being wary of potential assassins lurking in the shadows and setting traps.

Where exactly was I thrown from the ground when I was hit?

Mian asked Ayn in a low voice.

"There."

Ayn pointed to a spot where a trash can had been overturned, with a large dent in the can. Judging from its distance from the accident scene, it was undoubtedly the result of being hit by Mian's body.

"My lord, let me go and retrieve that thing for you."

Ein imitated Mian, covering her lips with her hand and whispering her request, only to be met with Mian's unwavering rejection.

"Don't even think about it. Even if you're a knight, you're still a minor. The situation isn't that dire yet, so it's not your turn to play."

"But the stories say that knights should charge in front of their lords."

"The story also says that a lord should serve his subjects. So be good, stay here, I'll go search around and come back, and I'll buy you some juice."

Upon hearing Mian's words, Ai Yin had nothing more to say and could only obediently stay where she was.

Thinking that she would obediently listen, Mi An felt relieved. She picked up a piece of rag that someone had thrown away by the roadside, put it on, and pretended to be a homeless person as she groped her way to the trash can.

On the main road outside the alley, vehicles come and go in a bustling manner, but inside the alley, a terrifying silence pervades.

Mian strolled through the silence, his mind taut with tension. The recent strenuous run had somewhat recharged his armor, offering only solace, but whether it could withstand a sniper firing a large-caliber shot remained uncertain.

But no matter how dangerous it was, it was nothing compared to the rewards of finding the Holy Sword.

The overturned trash can emitted a foul stench; it hadn't been a day without someone cleaning it up. But this only gave Mian more hope; perhaps his holy sword was lying in that trash can right now.

Mian reached for the trash can, and just then, a voice sounded behind him.

"Hey bro, this is my turf."