Esoteric Buddhism: To live as king in America

"What's going on? What's going on? What's going on?"

Watching two confident assassins advance, only to be easily felled by Mian's two sword strikes without him even understanding what was happening, the long-haired man's hard-won rationality and self-esteem completely crumbled.

It wasn't until Mian was right in front of him that the long-haired man remembered he should run away. But as soon as he turned around, his legs went weak, and he fell to the ground, rolling and crawling. But in the end, he couldn't outrun Mian and was kicked to the ground by Mian.

"I'm sorry, please spare my life. Hand me over to the police, and I'll reform myself in prison."

Facing the sword in Mian's hand, the long-haired man said in a mournful voice.

But to Mian, his voice was just noise.

"I've already let you off once, sir."

Mian plunged the sword into the long-haired man's neck and said coldly:

"This was my mistake. I still trusted this country's judicial system and your bottom line too much. Sir, you found a good place; it's quiet here. Even if there's a murder, there's plenty of time to handle it. As long as it's handled cleanly enough, I believe that so-called secret service won't be able to find any fault..."

Mian kept rambling on and on, but it wasn't until he was halfway through painting that he realized his hesitation and indecision.

A young person living in a society governed by the rule of law would find such behavior unacceptable. However, he had to do it; it was his mistake, and he had to make amends.

Mian stopped talking, not giving the gangster in front of him a chance to say his last words. To the man's utter astonishment, she brought the blade to his neck.

The sword was not yet sharpened, but the unseen blade had already slit the opponent's throat. As blood gushed out and splattered on the ground, the sphincter muscles, which had lost control, relaxed instantly, and a foul stench emanated from the yellowed crotch of the man's trousers.

It was a stench strong enough to knock anyone unconscious, but Mian seemed completely oblivious, simply standing there staring blankly at the corpse in front of him.

The two fallen assassins were not yet completely dead, and the long-haired man was the first blood stain on Mian's hands.

What was his name again?

The question suddenly flashed through Mian's mind, and it wasn't until about a minute later that he belatedly came to his senses.

Oh, by the way, his name seems to be Frankfurt, but I'm not sure if that's his first or last name.

Mian clenched his fist and pounded his chest.

Damn it, you sentimental fool, stop thinking about all that nonsense. I have things to do.

Before coming here, someone had to deal with Matt's situation, and Mian was assigned to rescue people, so he had to entrust this life-or-death matter to Sherry.

The retired veteran, full of pride, patted his chest and took full responsibility for the trouble caused by Mian. However, the other party was, after all, a dangerous superhuman. Sherry, who had only just gained some superhuman power from Mian two days ago, was completely unsure whether she could handle him.

Before I got here, Shirley called to say she'd met with Matt, but I wonder how things are going... Should I give her a call? But right now, there seems to be something more urgent: dealing with the bodies here. Oh, and those escaped gangsters. Their shouting will only attract the police faster.

One step wrong, step by step wrong.

No amount of meticulous preparation can withstand the outbreak of a black swan event. Just as Mian was trying to calm himself down after the murder and not let himself get too flustered.

Suddenly a figure appeared on the construction site outside the unfinished building.

"Hey, Mr. Mian. Or should I call you Mr. Wang He? But that doesn't matter anymore, it seems you've run into a bit of trouble."

The voice was soft and flirtatious, with a touch of classical gentlemanly affectation, accompanied by the up-and-down movement of the glove held between the index and middle fingers.

Mian looked in that direction in disbelief, trying to appear calm, but when he saw the person in front of him, he couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

"Matt?"

"it's me."

Matt took off his hat, revealing a smile. He was wearing a large trench coat, from which several tentacles extended, impaling the gangsters who had previously escaped and suspending them behind him.

"I'm truly sorry, but these people lured here by the bounty are not part of the Naturist Church's system. I also don't know their whereabouts, so I couldn't warn you in advance. Fortunately, they haven't caused you too much harm."

Matt spoke as if he were there entirely to help Mian.

But just seeing him appear here made Mian's heart pound wildly.

Matt was not a trusted companion, and Shirley could not tell him the whole story verbatim. Even if he guessed the cause and effect and insisted on coming, Shirley had absolutely no reason not to warn him in advance.

Without being warned, Matt shouldn't have been there.

But he is standing right here, clearly and plainly aware.

"Ryan, is what we're seeing just an illusion?"

Mian tried to seek help from the source in the consciousness space. To this, the unfortunate ring lady simply shrugged and said:

"It's not an illusion; the flesh and soul are definitely there. Although it's obscured, it doesn't seem to be an illusion spell of the 'Moth' or the 'Fisherman.' Anyway, with my skill level, I can't see anything wrong with it."

This is really troublesome...

Mian sensed something was wrong.

Sulli's safety is no longer the most important thing to worry about under these circumstances.

Matt, that old fox, has arrived here, right where Mian, that pretentious actor, just displayed his skills. If he sees through Mian's lies here, then Mian's only option is to fight Matt.

But can they really win?

Mian broke out in a cold sweat as he watched Matt effortlessly pierce several gang members.

Is there any possibility of turning things around? Is there any hope of being saved? Mian's mind raced, and suddenly he realized the way the other person had addressed him just now.

Could it be that……

Now that things have come to this, Mian has decided to take a gamble.

"It's alright."

Mian shook the blood off the sword, then held it in both hands, facing the sunlight, making no attempt to hide the wariness on his face, which was instead tinged with a few sarcastic remarks, and walked towards Matt.

"It's a good opportunity to test out the items we might sell at the auction. Mr. Matt, has Shirley discussed our plans with you? Or have I misunderstood you? Are you actually here to cause trouble for us, not to find me, to seek cooperation with Wang He?"