I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 102 Unexpected Arrest (13K long chapter, please vote and subscribe)

When Richard visited the Saide Health Career Training Center for the first time, Daniel personally accompanied him.

Richard had already been assigned a substitute teacher. She was a black woman in her forties named Mia, with bright red lips and a plump body. She looked like she could rap, and didn't look like a nurse at all.

But Mia is a nurse who works at a hospital in Queens and occasionally teaches at the Saïd Health Career Training Center to earn some extra money.

"Don't worry, he's very reliable, my good friend," Daniel said.

Richard glanced at Daniel's thin frame, then at the Black woman's ample buttocks, and teased, "You have good taste."

Daniel's cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn't refute it, as if he had hit a nerve.

Wow, turns out he's a BBW enthusiast.

Richard's life became busy again after that.

He had to go to the cell laboratory every two days to provide Christina with flesh and blood puppets for research.

At night, I still need to go to OCME to dissect corpses and continue accumulating knowledge of flesh and bone.

Every few days I go to the Katrina Clinic for cosmetic procedures and liposuction to collect "fresh flesh and blood".

However, fresh blood and flesh were still not enough. Fortunately, the courses at the Saide Vocational Training Center had officially started. Once Richard obtained his blood collection license, he would be able to legally draw blood.

The United States is a world leader in the blood products industry, providing 70% of the world's commercially available blood plasma with only 4.2% of the global population, and its paid blood donation market accounts for a staggering 94% of the global market!

The United States exports $400 billion worth of plasma products annually, making it one of the top six export commodities.

It's truly amazing that it's a superpower.

Cell labs often require large quantities of different types of blood and have a long-standing partnership with Bofu Plasma Centre, a leader in the blood products industry.

So Evelyn easily found Richard a part-time job at the Bofor Plasma Center. He could start working as soon as he got his blood collection license. He would be paid daily, could go to work anytime, and be paid by the hour.

I'm incredibly busy, and my life is very fulfilling.

Richard felt he was becoming like America: studying at university and working two part-time jobs at OCME and Bofors Plasma Center.

All I can say is that capitalism is too nurturing.

12 month 20 number.

Brian finally finished all the preparations before Christmas.

They got Alger on board, or rather, they reached an unspeakable cooperation agreement with Alger.

They secured a $2100 million mortgage loan.

Wall Street is shady; they cheated him out of at least four million dollars, and the interest rate was an outrageous 13%.

Brian has gone all in, betting everything.

He won, was re-elected as a congressman, and with Richard's help, is aiming for a higher position.

We lost. We lost everything, including our money and our lives.

With the help of money and the King of New York, Brian's new campaign slogan instantly flooded television media and the streets.

"The Voice of the People!"

"I don't take any money from anyone; I only speak for the voters!"

The huge lettering "VP" appeared on every one of Brian's campaign posters, from the subway to the highway, from themed hats to cell phones.

For a moment, Brian's solemn and serious face seemed to fill every corner of New York.

He began to frequently give election speeches and gave interviews to numerous news media outlets.

With the host's help, he talked at length about his journey.

"Mr. Senator, in today's US elections, it's commonplace for campaigns to raise tens of millions of dollars, and corporate donations tied to policies have become the norm. Why did you make the extreme choice of mortgaging your entire life savings to run for office?"

"First, remember my slogan: I don't take anyone's money; I only speak for my voters. This isn't a campaign gimmick; I've already returned all the campaign donations I received!"

"When I was in charge of the NYPD, I did not accept bribes from gangs, nor was I swayed by evil real estate capital. I governed the law impartially."

After running for Congress, I consistently refused large political donations for decades, for which I have been subjected to numerous false accusations and criticisms. To this day, there is still damaging material about me online and in the media.

"I earned my money in New York, and now I'm giving it back to New York. I love this place! I love this city! But New York shouldn't be like this, and I want to change it."

"Not taking anyone's money, this isn't just a slogan; it's a death charge I'm launching in the twilight of my life: no debt,

Without the constraints of personal relationships or capital, legislative decisions are made solely based on the voice of the voters.

'

"Whether you're a blood donation technician, a homeless person without health insurance, or a small business owner on the street, your difficulties are the issues I will address in Parliament..."

"7

"Sheriff Mike is a good man, a great man, yet he was attacked by some evil media. I can't imagine that such a good person would be attacked. What's wrong with New York! Look, his daughter Debbie was even blessed by God, attacking that vicious reporter with a starling! Do you believe the media or God's judgment? I will carry on Mike's legacy, even if I die at the hands of gangsters! We will resolutely crack down on gangs and show no leniency!"

"Fuck! Has this bastard gone mad?! How can he use all his assets to run for office?! Isn't he afraid of losing everything if he fails?!" Theodore roared in fury.

"Why didn't I hear a thing about this from beginning to end? Which bank gave Brian the loan? Investigate!"

Theodore's aide said in a deep voice, "It's those guys on Wall Street. You know how rich they are. They can withdraw $2000 million at any time just by using funds from their private accounts, and we have no way of knowing in advance!"

"They're insane! Insane! They're all insane!" Theodore vented before sitting back down on the sofa.

It was originally thought that after draining Brian's funds, he would only be able to die slowly and desperately under the siege.

No one expected Brian to go to such extremes!

Brian won the trust of most of the lower classes by relying on the slogans "I don't take money" and "speaking out for the people," and the media's attacks on Brian quickly collapsed and disintegrated.

The situation has now reached an unmanageable point, where any attack on Brian will be interpreted by the grassroots as "a slander against the voice of the people by other evil politicians."

Yes, some netizens have already started to label Brian as "the voice of the people."

Theodore knew, of course, that most of them were paid trolls, but there were actually some foolish lower-level people who believed them.

He found it funny to think that the corrupt cop who used to beat ordinary people with six sticks in a second on the streets of New York now looked righteous and awe-inspiring.

The VP slogan was so powerful that, to prevent being framed, Brian even exposed the receipts for mortgaging all his assets to raise political funds online.

He was like a rampaging rhinoceros, covered in steel spikes, scattering Theodore's plans into disarray.

Ring ring.

Theodore looked and saw it was Marty.

"This coward, is he clinging to my leg and crying again?!"

Theodore cursed, but had no choice but to answer the phone and soothe his ally's vulnerability and collapse.

Isabella pushed open the door to Brian's office.

Her long, straight legs, clad in high heels, and the tight-fitting police uniform made her look like a supermodel.

Her long, golden hair cascaded over her shoulders; she didn't look like a senior NYPD officer, but rather like a cosplayer on a talent show.

She stood boldly in front of Brian, as if she had made some kind of decision.

Brian glanced at Doug.

Doug understood and left the room, locking the door and standing guard outside.

"Isabella, what's up?" Brian put his pen on the table, crossed his arms, and looked at Isabella with interest.

Isabella didn't say anything, but simply took out her phone and started playing a video.

This is a video of two people having sex in bed: the female protagonist is herself, and the male protagonist is Miles.

Brian's eyes lit up.

Isabella showed absolutely no embarrassment and produced a second video.

She's still the female lead, and the male lead is Police Chief Henry Carter.

Brian finally laughed: "That's a very interesting video. What are you planning to do with it?"

Isabella paused the video, placed her phone on the table in front of Brian, and looked him intently. "I want to take down that old man." She pointed to Henry Carter on the framed screen, licking her red lips. "I want to sit in his seat!"

"The NYPD's first female commissioner?" Brian raised an eyebrow. "I like ambitious people, but you should go talk to Mayor Mattson. I'm just a congressman; I don't have the authority to appoint the NYPD commissioner."

Clunk!

Clunk!

Isabella, in her high heels, walked around the table between the two and stood before Brian. "Brian," she said, "everyone knows your influence at the NYPD. I don't need you to do anything right now, but if Henry's position becomes vacant and Manterson asks for your opinion, I'd like you to nominate me."

Brian squinted at Isabella: "How do I know you won't become the next Miles?"

He had already been betrayed by Miles once, and he wouldn't easily trust a second person who would defect.

Isabella didn't answer verbally; she simply placed her phone on the table and, in front of Brian, began to unbutton her shirt, one button at a time.

Since people without leverage are unreliable, then we should proactively create leverage ourselves.

Brian watched her quietly.

A moment later, the clothes were thrown on the ground.

Brian picked up his phone and started taking pictures with a smile: "Very good, but not enough."

Isabella walked to the coffee table without hesitation, sat down, and placed her hands down...

Going all in is a form of wisdom.

She's never afraid to go all in; she's just afraid of not having the chance.

Brian showed signs of victory.

Isabella promptly placed her bet.

Brian held up his phone to take pictures, his smile growing increasingly satisfied: "What a smart girl."

No wonder she became the second-in-command of the IAB at the age of thirty-one.

That old bastard Byron has been in the position of Home Secretary for too long; it's time to get rid of him.

An hour later, Isabella opened the door and walked out in her high heels.

Her complexion was rosy, but she also looked somewhat tired.

Doug glanced at her silently; she smelled of heather.

Isabella was not ashamed at all; instead, she gave Doug a flirtatious look.

Doug merely frowned slightly, bypassed Isabella, entered the room, and closed the door behind him.

Brian was playing with his phone, his feet propped up on the desk.

"Old man, I have to warn you, this woman is dangerous," Doug said with some concern.

Brian chuckled. "I know. But she's smart too."

He watched the video on his phone with great interest.

Three videos, three pieces of leverage.

We should make good use of this.

Isabella drove away, sending a final message: "I'm at your service at any time."

Brian: "You won't have to wait long."

"6

St. Patrick's Cathedral.

Sawyer-Belmont sat in his private study, his large frame sunken into a large oak chair, his stubby fingers tapping lightly on the armrest.

Behind the round, sharp mirror, two small, fierce eyes gleamed with an elusive light.

Seth reported: "Last week, Archbishop Foster-Dolan went to Washington and met with the cardinal at the Los Angeles Cathedral. The topic of discussion is unknown."

Sawyer paused, his fingers still twitching, his expression turning grave: "Where is Isaiah?"

"Bishop Douglas has been getting close to Foster's secretary lately." Ceston paused. "I suspect he's trying to influence the College of Cardinals. The canonization of Debbie that we're preparing could very well be their breakthrough."

""

The canonization process hasn't even started yet, and these guys are already jumping up and down?

Sawyer took off his glasses, rubbed the lenses with his short, stubby fingers, and then put them back on: "How's Debbie doing?"

"This is bad. There's more dirt on Mike now. Someone put photos of Mike and Debbie together on social media and captioned it, 'The daughter of a corrupt cop is going to become a saint.'"

""

He showed a photo: Mike embracing Debbie, who was still young, which he didn't know where he got it from; it might even be an AI-generated image.

In this society where truth and falsehood are indistinguishable, anything is possible.

Even if you say it's fake, that it's AI-generated, ordinary people won't believe it.

Ordinary people always enjoy seeing the ugly side of important figures and celebrities.

Whether the news is true or false is no longer important; the victory is achieved the moment it is thrown.

Sawyer naturally wouldn't argue; that would be a thankless task.

Setting up a topic without getting bogged down in it, focusing on offense rather than defense, is the greatest principle of modern public opinion.

Never get bogged down in other people’s questions; always throw out new, more surprising, more shocking, and more sensational questions.

Attack, attack, always attack.

Those Donald Party members are too good at using these underhanded tactics.

Sawyer stood up impatiently and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the decorations for the Hauen Night were already hanging high, and a huge Christmas tree stood next to the statue of the Virgin Mary, covered with colorful lights and wreaths, reflecting a dazzling light in Sawyer's round mirror.

The first hearing for the canonization case was about to begin, but his mind was far from calm.

He had a bad feeling that the situation was getting out of control.

Once the canonization case came to light, it seemed that Archbishop Foster-Dolan, Bishop Isaiah Douglas of the New York diocese, and some of their enemies lurking in the shadows all found a breakthrough and rushed to attack.

Debbie has a long list of bad deeds: drinking, cheerleading, and having relatives who are corrupt cops.

Sawyer felt a bit of a predicament.

This girl has so much trouble.

Debbie was not a good American girl in the traditional sense.

However, Sawyer had no choice but to replace her; recommending a candidate saint also required certain qualifications.

The starling miracle was so awe-inspiring that even now, some people on the internet still refer to Debbie as a saint. Without this foundation, Sawyer could not have created a person out of thin air to choose a shrew.

With a powerful enemy and the support of the lower-level believers, Sawyer wouldn't know if his actions were right until the very last step.

He was unwilling to expose such a significant weakness, but he had no choice.

He has already failed to become a cardinal three times. If he delays any longer, he will become a laughing stock in the mouths of all the archbishops!

What on earth is that damned old senile man in the Vatican thinking? Sawyer cursed inwardly.

Debbie hugged the shadow of the black cat and curled up on the sofa, browsing TikTok.

.

"Why are they talking about Zhao's father like that?" Debbie kicked Richard angrily.

Richard raised his head and gave her a sharp look.

Debbie shrank back, raised her shadow, and held it up in front of her.

Shadow was so frightened by Richard's gaze that her fur stood on end. She rolled over and struggled to escape from Debbie's grasp, then scurried under the cabinet, too afraid to come out.

Debbie continued looking at her phone.

Public opinion surrounding the McEnany police scandal has not subsided; in fact, it has intensified in recent days.

She didn't understand why.

Her birthday is on Christmas, but this birthday present was absolutely terrible!

Thinking of her ally's death, Debbie's cleavage flushed slightly again.

Richard certainly understood why: because Brian had started to gain the upper hand again.

The slogan "I don't take money from capital" was too powerful, and Theodore's group couldn't find a reason to attack Brian for the time being, so they could only stick to the fact that "Mike is a corrupt cop" to attack Mike from the side.

Although Mullie Carter sided with Theodore, he was also the director of the NYPD, and his attitude on this matter was very ambiguous.

They neither presented evidence against Mike nor denied it.

This is why the matter has been unable to be resolved.

Richard knew this situation would continue for a long time, until Brian was successfully re-elected or suffered a complete defeat.

December 23rd, tomorrow is the night of the Grand Hyatt.

Fewer and fewer shops are open on the street; most have closed down.

Helen is also preparing to go back to her grandfather's house for Christmas.

She finally bought a car, a gray 2012 Bentley Civic, I don't know how many times it's been driven, $6200, a little over ten years old, with 15.9 miles on the odometer.

Although it was old, Helen cleaned it very well.

"Nice car." Richard smiled.

Helen laughed and said, "I don't know what kind of car is good, but it should be pretty good."

Richard asked Daniel to help him buy this car. Daniel found a used car dealership in New Jersey, and the owner was supposedly a friend of his, who recommended that Helen buy it.

Richard discovered that Daniel was a real jack-of-all-trades, able to lend a hand with anything, which was quite impressive.

Helen hugged Richard: "Do you want to come with me to my grandpa's house for Christmas? It's always very lively at my grandpa's house, and my uncles will be there too."

She knew Richard wouldn't be going home for Christmas.

Most people at the University of Tokyo don't celebrate Christmas, and Richard is going on holiday again these days. She really wants to take Richard home with her, as if it's a meeting with the parents.

However, Richard shook his head: "I need to go learn about blood and try to get my blood collection certificate as soon as possible."

The Upper East Side branch of the Katrina Clinic is not yet in full operation, and the procedures are very unstable. Richard needs to provide Christina with enough flesh puppets for experiments, and a stable supply of fresh flesh is required. Blood sampling is a very good option.

Helen was a little disappointed, but she didn't say much. She just hugged Richard again and said, "Don't overwork yourself. You've already done a great job."

With disappointment and reluctance, Helen drove away under Richard's watchful gaze.

Richard was sent to the Saide Vocational Training Center.

Saide Training School is a mid-to-low-end school with somewhat outdated facilities.

However, according to Daniel, this place was reliable, and Richard decided to trust him.

Mia, a rugged Black woman, is Richard's teacher and Daniel's friend, and takes great care of Richard.

"Hey, Richard, what a handsome young man." Mia grinned broadly, looking very cheerful.

She was about fifty years old, with a robust build, and her voice was somewhat hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against wood.

She pulled over a swivel chair and plopped down next to Richard.

The swivel chair groaned, and Richard watched it anxiously, fearing it might collapse.

"From now on, you will study in this classroom, and I will teach you."

"Since you're a Princeton student, this kind of course should be a piece of cake for you. Oh, and Daniel also mentioned you worked part-time at OCME, so blood shouldn't be a problem for you. Some idiots even faint at the sight of blood!"

She picked up a blood-sucking needle: "It's different from what you do on corpses; the blood vessels in a living person will move. I'll demonstrate for you, and you can flick the rest yourself."

She led Richard to a patient who was bleeding profusely.

Although Christmas is approaching and fewer people are working, more people are getting blood donations.

Many people owe money for Christmas, and selling blood is a good option.

Some people would sell their blood just to have a hot hamburger to eat at least for Christmas.

Saide Vocational Training School also does some work at blood collection stations.

Students have to pay money to Saide Vocational Training School in order to study.

You can even make a profit by selling your blood.

Earning twice in total, a win-win situation for both Saide and De.

Of course, this is something only a mid-to-low-level training school like Saide could do.

More advanced professional tutoring schools will at least allow students to train each other, rather than letting these newcomers directly handle patients.

But here, not a single bit of manpower will be wasted.

Richard carefully put on disposable nitrile gloves and side protective goggles. The risk level of blood collection in the United States is very high, including HIV, hepatitis B, and all sorts of strange blood-borne infectious diseases.

Due to anti-discrimination laws, patients are not required to explain their health condition to blood collectors and can only assume that the blood of the general population is infectious.

Mia yelled at the Kang team, "Hey, come here, hurry up!"

Two black men with silly expressions walked past, while the others didn't move.

Mia easily demonstrated how to bleed, then said to Richard, "Try it yourself."

"Is it really that casual?" Richard was a little speechless.

On his first day of driving, he watched a demonstration and was then pulled onto the stage to bleed alone.

"Hey, how can we be so casual? We have a dedicated nurse watching over us. If you cause any problems, someone will come to the rescue."

She winked, then turned and left.

Richard took the needle, and the second black man immediately pulled his arm back, shouting, "Hehehe, I won't let the newbie prick me!"

Mia wasn't going to put up with him: "Either get lost, or I'll stab you with this."

The Black man angrily retorted, "I've been waiting for an hour and a half!"

Mia glared at him with a fierce, bull-like expression: "Kid! If you don't do it, you'll have to start all over again and wait another hour and a half, I said it!"

The black man shrank back as he was being insulted. The black woman naturally had a huge influence over all the young black men, and he indeed dared not say a word.

The other nurses drawing blood chuckled.

"Fuck!" the black man cursed, shoving his arm in front of Richard. "Yellow skin! You better be serious, I don't want to get a few needle pricks for nothing."

Richard nodded: "It's alright, I sew up ten corpses every day at OCME, I'm very familiar with it."

The Black man's expression froze: "What did you say? What are you stitching up? And where is OCME?"

Richard did not answer.

He picked up the needle, examined the vein, and gently touched it through his gloves.

Prior to this, he had only ever worked with stagnant blood vessels on the dissection table.

Warm blood flows in the blood vessels beneath the skin of a living person, and the feel is completely different from that of a corpse.

Richard was able to pinpoint the location of a blood vessel with just the slightest touch of a needle tip.

With the added benefit of [Flesh and Blood Control], the first needle he inserted pierced a blood vessel.

However, the blood vessel shifted slightly, deviating by about one millimeter, and the needle tip grazed the blood vessel wall.

Indeed, the living are different from the dead.

Richard realized the problem in a very short time, and with a slight tilt of the needle tip, he successfully inserted it into the blood vessel.

Dark red blood flowed into the blood collection tube through the infusion tube.

The Black man breathed a sigh of relief: "Not bad."

"Alright." Richard observed the changes in the blood vessels before replying, "OCME, New York Medical Examiner's Office."

"Forensic pathologist?!" The black man froze, his expression hardening. "You mean a dead person? Fuck!"

He was startled: "Take your fingers off my hand!"

Richard said calmly, "If you don't want to get a shot for nothing, you'd better not move."

"Damn it! I've already bled a lot! Stop it right now!"

"This blood isn't enough; you won't get your money."

The Black man froze.

Being broke is also terrible.

He felt Richard's fingers were icy cold, as if a forensic doctor were touching a corpse, and goosebumps rose all over his body.

Richard secretly activated his Flesh and Blood Control, and a wisp of red blood energy, visible only to him, flowed from the black man's veins into the [Blood Box].

The Black man trembled all over, his legs going weak: "I feel something's wrong!"

The Black nurse next to him couldn't stand it any longer and said disdainfully, "Have some backbone! You're useless! It's just a blood draw, look how scared you are!"

The black man left, almost bleeding.

Seeing that Richard seemed to be very efficient, the others also switched over to this side.

The next patient came over; she was an American version of a young, edgy woman with smoky makeup, and looked to be only in her early twenties.

The silk has silk rings on it, like a cow, its ears are covered with bone nails, its tongue is parted, and its hair sticks up like a chicken coop.

The young woman put her arm around the table, stared at Richard, and said, "Hey, you're pretty handsome, yellow-skinned."

Richard shrugged: "But you're ugly."

37

"Fk!" The young woman was very unhappy.

Richard abruptly slammed her hand onto the control panel: "Don't move."

Before she could react, the needle was inserted, and she didn't feel any pain.

This time, Richard was even more skilled.

"Not bad technique." The energetic young woman winced, "Want to give me a good pounding later? I like you."

Richard quickly finished writing the words "blood" and "fresh flesh," his gaze passing over Xiao Mei and landing on the person behind him: "Next."

"Coward!" the young woman cursed and left dejectedly.

After practicing a few times, Richard's speed increased.

Often, while the nurses next door are still looking for a vein, Richard has already inserted the needle.

Because of his exceptional control over his flesh and blood, he can even consciously avoid some nerves on the surface of his skin, which greatly reduces the pain.

Many blood donors don't even feel much pain when the needle is inserted into their veins.

Over the next two and a half hours, Richard completed fifty intravenous blood draws at the blood donation station.

However, the harvest of fresh flesh and blood was not much, only about 2 units.

Because the blood was not anesthetized, the donors could feel something was wrong, so Richard couldn't collect too much and could only take a small amount from each person.

Although the quantity is small, it is stable.

As long as he's willing to do it, people will sell their blood every day.

In the United States, blood collection workers have no trouble finding work.

It's a bit dangerous, though. Who knows what kind of addicts or STD carriers the blood donors might be? If you get infected, it'll be a real problem.

Mia turned to Richard and said, "You've already finished 50! Faster than I expected. I thought it would take you all morning!"

"Very good." She signed the record directly: "Your practical skills have met the requirements. I'll adjust the remaining theory classes for you. You'll have four consecutive hours in the afternoon, and then eight hours every day. That's a total of thirty hours, which should take you three or four days to complete."

Richard knew that this was Daniel's relationship.

If he had no friends, he would have to throw a tantrum every day, for two hours in two classes, and it would take at least fifteen days to resolve the issue.

In practice, it's not that simple to complete.

He saw that he had completed fifty repetitions of the "blood-drawing" exercise by himself, while other trainees were usually ordered to leave after three to five repetitions and then replaced by the next person.

Richard asked, "Will I be able to spray blood every day from now on? I want to practice my technique."

Mia paused for a moment: "That's quite a rare request. You're a trainee now, so you won't get any income from selling your blood."

Richard shrugged: "It's okay. I don't want money."

Mia laughed and tossed her hand: "Then no problem. You're welcome to work anywhere, no pay needed. Those nurses at the front desk saw what happened? Go tell them you can work, and they'll pay you. Plenty of people are willing to give you their blood transfusion opportunities. But do you really want to train for this?"

Mia didn't quite understand.

Richard nodded: "Yes, I think practicing blood can deepen my understanding of the textbook knowledge. I'll practice for a while first."

"Okay." Mia shrugged.

At that moment, a short, black woman walked by; she looked to be only eighteen or nineteen years old.

He had dark brown skin and hair tied in dense braids, each braid seemingly sticking up in anger.

"Hey, this isn't fair! You did it fifty times, and I only did it five times, why?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, extremely angry.

Richard looked at her quietly.

Black people are discriminated against by white people, and they are also the main force behind discrimination against Asians. He has been ahead of the United States for so long, and has seen it many times before.

The Black woman, however, thought Richard was intimidated and became even more arrogant.

She shouted at the other trainees, trying to incite them to attack Richard: "Fifty times! We can only do it five times a day, but he did it fifty times a day! That's unfair!"

Most of the trainees here are Black, and some are resentful, but no one dares to stand up and speak out because Mia is still there.

Mia stood up aggressively and yelled, "Hey, Rachel, you little bitch. Either stay here and attend class properly, or take your money and drop out right now. How I conduct class is my prerogative, it's none of your business, this is my territory! Don't you understand?!"

Rachel pursed her lips, her fingers clenched so tightly they turned white, and she dared not speak.

Mia is very famous in this area.

She has four sons and two daughters, three of whom and one of whom are adopted.

My husband has long since disappeared, just like most Black people.

She raised all six children on her own, so of course she couldn't provide them with a good education.

One boy and two girls are still in school, and the three boys from the south of the city are all involved in gangs. No one dares to mess with Mia.

Rachel said timidly, "What I mean is that we should schedule our classes more intensively so that we don't have to keep asking for leave."

Mia yelled, "Shut up! You little bitch, sit down and get back to your seat!"

Rachel sat down timidly.

If she offends Mia here, it will be very difficult for her to get a blood collection permit.

Richard laughed and started the lesson.

Mia began to stand on the podium and read from the textbook.

The students were all slumped over their desks, some chatting, some sleeping.

It's just bloodshed; nobody cares about these damn theory classes.

Mia was just coasting along and didn't bother to care.

Richard watched for a while with interest, but found that it was all basic knowledge mentioned in AP courses and the textbooks provided by Christina, which wasn't very valuable, so he picked up his phone and started scrolling.

The group of students were all doing their own thing; no one was attending class, and no one was at Pi Licha.

Rachel occasionally glanced at Richard with a fierce look, extremely annoyed, but dared not confront him directly.

St. Patrick's Cathedral.

.

The first internal hearing for the canonization case has begun.

More than thirty members took their seats in turn, most of whom were bishops.

Sawyer sat in the head seat, his large body filling the entire chair.

Behind the mirror, Xiao Lihen scanned everyone present, trying to discern their psychological changes from their expressions.

Debbie also dumped him.

Debbie sat in the middle of the first row, wearing a plain-colored dress that reached her ankles, revealing not a bit of her leg skin.

Catherine, as Debbie's guardian, was present at the scene.

To Sawyer's left and below is a white-haired black man, Bishop Isaiah Douglas, Sawyer's greatest enemy.

In fact, given Douglas's abilities and qualifications, the position of archbishop should have been his if he hadn't been black.

Of course, if he weren't Black, he wouldn't have been able to become a bishop in a place like New York.

The lengthy hearing began.

After Sawyer opened the proceedings, each bishop gave a speech, discussing Debbie's canonization case.

Debbie became drowsy after a while, her head drooping on the table as she fell asleep.

After an unknown amount of time, Isaiah Douglas stood up, ready to speak, and the room quieted down considerably.

Sawyer also carefully launched his attack, knowing that the biggest attack was about to be unleashed.

Isaiah's white hair was perfectly styled under the light as he spoke in a clear voice, "Today we're going to discuss a girl who might be canonized."

A close confidant of Sawyer immediately emphasized: "Not a girl, but a daughter favored by God!"

Isaiah shook his head: "Whether the starling incident was a miracle is debatable. Whether it was divine favor or not, we need to discuss that further. It's inappropriate to bring it up now."

The bishop was resolute: "A daughter favored by God! The starling is a miracle!"

Isaiah was not swayed by Sawyer and continued his speech: "What does canonization mean to a girl?" (A daughter favored by God! the bishop shouted from below.)

"Canonization means that this girl must be pure. Her soul, her body, everything about her, her family background, must all be pure."

After speaking, he opened a document: "Debbie Dixon's ally, Mike Dixon, former NYPD Sheriff. According to information disclosed in the media, after divorcing Ms. Catherine Dixon—"

As he spoke, he gave Catherine a sharp look.

Catherine raised her chin slightly, looking calmly at Isaiah without any fear.

What right do you believers of false gods have to judge me?

Isaiah was somewhat puzzled.

Most believers, even those who are not particularly devout, would feel very tense in such an environment of repression.

This woman is completely unaffected; she's a bit difficult to deal with.

He was thinking to himself, but his mouth kept moving:

"...After the divorce, Mike amassed a fortune of millions in a short period. One portion of that money was used to pay for Debbie's tuition at Francis Lewis High School. I want to ask, is it appropriate to canonize a girl who received her education through dirty money? Is it purported?"

Whispers broke out in the meeting room.

Sawyer tapped his stubby fingers on the table: "Bishop Douglas, the investigation into the canonization case is directed at Debbie herself, not her relatives."

"But her allies supported her with dirty money." Isaiah did not raise his voice, his tone very steady: "Her clothes, her tuition, her food, were all bought with that filthy money. Every piece of clothing she wears standing here is impure."

Debbie's fingers began to clench.

Catherine tried to stand up and say something, but Sawyer stopped her with his fierce spirit.

This problem is not surprising. Mike's major flaw is very obvious, and Sawyer has already prepared a countermeasure.

Several of Sawyer's direct lineage bishops began to speak, and Isaiah was not to be outdone. The two sides argued back and forth for a long time, dragging the discussion into a quagmire.

Isaiah suddenly turned to Debbie: "Miss Dixon, there's a photo on your social media account."

He picked up his phone and showed it to everyone. It was a photo of Debbie wearing a sports skirt at the gym. Among a group of bishops wearing thick robes, her snow-white thighs stood out sharply in the photo.

"These kinds of photos and behaviors are very common on your social media accounts. I think it's inappropriate for a candidate for sainthood. Debbie, do you agree with this?"

What a bunch of country bumpkins! Debbie felt out of place.

She picked up the microphone, about to speak.

Catherine whispered, "Shut up, he's trying to trick you."

Damn it! Debbie held her breath, pressed the microphone again, and didn't say anything.

Isaiah didn't give up easily: "You're still a cheerleader captain? I think cheerleading dances are indecent. Can you give up being a cheerleader to prepare for the sainthood? Dedicating yourself to the Lord comes at a great price, this is just a small one. Are you willing to make a change?"

"Sacrifice my foot!" Debbie was fed up. She picked up the microphone, ignoring Catherine's fierce gaze: "If women showing their thighs means they're impure, then what about men? I remember that old man in the Vatican—uh-huh!"

Before she could finish speaking, Catherine quickly covered her mouth.

But although the rest of the sentence wasn't said, everyone knew what it meant.

To encourage the Church to be open-minded and adapt to the new era, the Pope once posed for a photo wearing shorts.

However, this incident was considered a disgrace by most people in the church.

The scene immediately descended into chaos.

Damn it! What is she saying?! Sawyer also felt his head spinning; this girl was so out of control.

"I'm sorry, Debbie didn't get enough rest yesterday, she needs to rest." Catherine quickly pulled Debbie away.

She dragged Debbie to a corner and said sternly, "Debbie, use your brain! If you want to get into Princeton, you need Sawyer's support. Stop talking nonsense!"

Debbie felt wronged: "He won't let me stay in the cheerleading squad."

"Hold on! I didn't say I agreed. You just need to be vague or shut up altogether, and Sawyer will handle it. Do you want to go to Princeton?"

"I..." Debbie hesitated.

She wasn't really that into him, but Richard was in Princeton, and if she didn't go, he might get seduced by some little bitch again.

Catherine stared straight at Debbie.

Debbie shrank back. "Okay, I'll shut up."

"I won't give up on the cheerleading team," she told herself.

She could clearly feel that Richard's gaze brightened slightly when he looked at her while she was dancing.

Hmph, what a repressed pervert from Dongda University.

I will not give up on the cheerleading team!

The first hearing ended in chaos and arguments.

A full hour later, Sawyer returned wearily to his office, where Catherine and Debbie were waiting for him.

.

Debbie lay listlessly on the sofa playing on her phone.

Sawyer sighed. "Debbie's remarks today were very poor. She'd better not speak next time."

Catherine nodded: "No problem, Debbie!"

She glared at Debbie.

Debbie angrily made a zipping motion on her mouth.

Sawyer reluctantly accepted the outcome. There wasn't much to say to a naive young girl: "Mike's problem is also troublesome. Although I've stalled for now, if Mike is convicted, the consequences will be enormous. That old bastard Isaiah Douglas won't let such an obvious flaw go unpunished. You must find a way to resolve this, or you'll have to sever ties immediately. For example, have Debbie and Mike declare they're cutting off their sworn sisterhood and refusing the inheritance; I'll compensate you elsewhere. Unless you can shut up Mullie and Miles of the NYPD. Those two damned guys are Protestant heretics; I can't influence them!"

"Also, Debbie, you can be a cheerleader, but don't provoke those old fogies in public. I can understand, but that doesn't mean they can."

"Okay, okay," Debbie said impatiently.

Sawyer sighed.

If it weren't for the pressure of not being able to obtain the cardinal's immense power of oath, he wouldn't want to deal with such a rebellious girl at all; it would be too foolish.

Fortunately, Catherine covered Debbie's mouth. He couldn't even imagine what would have happened if Debbie had said that about the Pope at the meeting.

Fortunately, he didn't say he was going to dump her; if he didn't, there was still a chance to salvage the situation.

"On Saturday, St. Patrick's Cathedral will be holding a midnight mass, and I will invite you all. Debbie should also attend. Many prominent New York City believers will be there, so Debbie must make a good impression. Among them are those who wrote letters of recommendation for Debbie; I will introduce her to them."

Catherine nodded: "Don't worry."

As darkness fell, Richard walked out of the training school.

Most of the shops are closed.

.

The Christmas atmosphere gradually filled the entire street.

There were still a few food stalls at the entrance, just like there were people selling things on the street at the East Gate 30.

Richard decided to eat here before going home.

The stall was run by a Mexican girl; she was very pretty, had large breasts, and unusually clean fingers.

Richard ate here for lunch and thought the food was pretty good.

Richard continued eating: "Give me a burrito."

"Hey, OK." The girl immediately started working quickly and efficiently.

Richard was scrolling through his phone.

"My name is Simella," the girl suddenly said.

Richard paused for a moment, then said, "Oh, hello, my name is Richard."

He didn't know what the girl wanted to say.

The wraps were made quickly.

Richard took out his money and accepted the wrap.

Simela leaned against the stall, looking at Richard: "Richard, will you marry me?"

Cough, cough, cough! Richard coughed violently, nearly choking on his burrito: "What? I didn't hear you clearly, did I mishear?"

"I mean, will you marry me?"

Richard was speechless: "We just met today."

"So what?" Simella asked matter-of-factly. "It's just a wedding. Shouldn't we meet a few more times? Or maybe try sleeping together first?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Richard couldn't understand this woman's thought process. "But why? We don't know each other, I've only just learned your name. There are so many men here, why are you looking for me?"

Simella said matter-of-factly, "I've heard that men from Dongda University don't fight with old men, and you look alright."

Richard felt he had encountered something strange, and while eating his burrito, he asked her, "Are your standards really that low?"

"Business isn't good here. Most people live nearby, and nobody eats at the stalls, so I don't make much money." Simera looked at Richard, her beautiful face filled with despair.

"What else can we do? Life is always this bad, and getting married won't solve anything." Richard took a bite of his burrito. "What are your requirements? I mean, for example, a bride price. Women from Tokyo University usually ask for a bride price, and men give women money."

"A man has to pay a woman to marry him?" Simera asked, somewhat surprised. "Just give me twenty thousand dollars."

"Why $20,000?"

"The cost of my mother's medical treatment."

What illness does your mother have?

"Pancreatic cancer, she takes medication every day, and it's in a lot of pain. I have no choice but to give her painkillers," Simera said casually, as if it were a very ordinary matter. "I'm still in nursing school, but I only have a little over $200 left, I really have no other choice. I told her that people at Dongda University value education, and if I married you, you wouldn't hit me, and maybe you could still let me go to nursing school..."

'

Li noticed the burrito in his hand was becoming difficult to swallow. He put it down and said, "My family won't approve of me getting married so early. But maybe I can help your mother, for example, by introducing her to a nice place—"

"Some new drug trials require volunteers. It's dangerous, but at least it's better than staying at home taking painkillers and waiting to die."

"I can introduce your mother to someone... but the chances are slim. Pancreatic cancer is a terminal illness; you need to be prepared," Richard said sincerely. As a student of Dongda University, he couldn't bear to see someone sell themselves to save their mother.

Given Simela's family situation, they certainly don't have medical insurance, and it's impossible for them to provide her mother with the necessary treatment.

Daniel or Christina should be able to contact the pharmaceutical company's human trial department; at least it's better than waiting to die.

Simera pouted: "You just don't like me."

She lowered her head and continued to busy herself with shaking, the flames of despair burning fiercely above her head.

Then they sent two more people to buy wraps.

Richard felt too oppressed, so he simply changed his stall.

Next to Simela was a Latina guy in a baseball cap who was selling hot drinks.

"Give me a hot one," Richard said.

The guy in the baseball cap started making it and finished quickly.

Richard took the hot food and took a bite.

Just then, a group of police officers suddenly rushed out from the street corner.

The guy in the baseball cap didn't say a word; he just dropped his stall and ran away.

Richard was a little puzzled, but he didn't move; he just stood there and ate.

It's none of my business. An Asian face is often safer in a conflict; running away would only arouse the suspicion of the police.

People from other stalls were also watching the spectacle, and no one left; this was perfectly normal.

The guy in the baseball cap hadn't run a few steps when another policeman rushed out from the opposite side, grabbed him around the waist, and slammed him heavily to the ground with a thud.

The guy in the baseball cap was thrown so hard he lost his footing and struggled on the ground, getting covered in snow and mud.

"Let me go!"

A black police officer, who was over 1.9 meters tall, suddenly pinned the young man in the baseball cap to the ground, put his hands behind his back, handcuffed him, and quickly pulled out a small white plastic bag from the pocket of his baseball cap.

Oh dear! Richard quickly put down the hot food in his hand.

Could this kid be putting poison in the stuff he's selling?

A group of police officers began searching the stall of the guy in the baseball cap.

At that moment, a white detective glanced at Richard Yili and pointed, "Take him away."

The 1.9-meter-tall Black policeman walked up to Richard and said, "Come with me."

Richard frowned: "I'm just a customer. I just bought something here."

Simela shouted after him, "I just sold him bread; he was just passing by!"

The white detective ignored him: "Take him away!"

The Black police officer pulled out handcuffs: "Get out of here right now, don't make me use my hands."

Li realized that today's events were outrageous; he had only bought a hot snack and was then grabbed and thrown around.

He frowned and looked around. There were witnesses everywhere. He couldn't just kill someone and run away, could he?

Richard calmly tossed out, "I need to call my lawyer."

The Black police officer chuckled and tossed his hand dismissively: "Lawyer?"

In this godforsaken place, how many people have lawyers?

Just then, Mia walked out of the school gate after get off work and saw Richard being arrested. She immediately rushed up to him angrily and shouted, "Hey, Sam! What are you doing? He's my student! What are you doing? He's just a student at Dongda University!"

Mia was pulling at Sam, the Black police officer.

The white detective was a bit bewildered by what he saw, but he didn't say anything and just watched the black officer handle the situation.

Sam, the Black police officer, also grew up in this neighborhood and was very familiar with Mia.

He whispered, "Hey, wait, I can't control this."

"This is ridiculous!" Richard explained, "I just bought something to eat, and I was grabbed and thrown around."

Mia ignored him and continued tugging at Sam, chattering on and on.

Sam, at his wits' end, whispered, "Mia, this was ordered to happen today, there's really nothing we can do. If you know this kid, call a lawyer right away."

Richard narrowed his eyes in hatred.

The instructions from above, could they be directed at me?

The white detective was getting impatient, so two more officers shoved him aside and forcibly dragged Richard into the car and drove him away.

Mia immediately picked up her phone and called Daniel: "Daniel! That Richard you introduced has been arrested by the police. He didn't do anything! He just ate some hot pot on the street!"