I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 153 The First Technological Breakthrough, Youth Virus (10K Long Chapter)

Antonio immediately placed his hand behind his back, his thumb resting on the gun handle, not pulling it out, but already fully prepared.

He asked coldly, "Who are you?"

Several of his henchmen around him stood up in surprise, and some of them had already drawn their guns.

"FXXK!"

"How did you get in here!"

"Whose side are you on?!"

Antonio glanced behind the black jacket; it was empty.

He shook his head slightly, and his two underlings quickly left the room to check the corridor and stairwell.

The man in the black jacket wasn't nervous at all; he smiled and acted as if he were visiting a friend's house.

"Hey, don't be nervous," said the man in the black jacket, his voice light and cheerful. "I mean no harm. You're new here, I don't know you. I saw there was a change when I came over, so I came to check it out."

Antonio didn't let go, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

The man in the black jacket casually shrugged at his armed thugs: "Come on! Bro! You guys are too tense! I'm alone! Relax!"

Two henchmen walked in, glanced at Antonio, and shook their heads.

There was no one there, no ambush, only him.

Antonio loosened his grip on the gun handle; this man had indeed come alone.

"Speak, what exactly do you want here?"

"Business is business, huh?" The man in the black jacket pulled up a chair, sat down backwards, draped his arms over the back, and said with a grin, "Sniper rifles, cannons, grenades, bulletproof vests, anything goes. Whatever you want."

The man in the black jacket spoke so casually, so casually, that it didn't sound like he was doing an illegal transaction, but more like a street vendor selling hot dogs.

Antonio squinted.

He was talking about all illegal weapons.

Antonio's first thought was that the other party might be setting a trap, either a police officer or an FBI informant.

But it doesn't seem like it.

If the police or FBI find you, they don't need to use a sting operation; they can just arrest you directly.

Antonio calmly asked, "And the price?"

The man in the black jacket smiled broadly: "I'm always generous to my trading partners. I'll give you the goods first, you take them and use them, and you pay me only if there are no problems. How about it?"

Antonio did not speak.

This person is either an idiot or so confident that they're not afraid of taking the goods and not paying.

A fool couldn't possibly sneak in by himself.

Where does the other party get the confidence to believe that even gangsters can't renege on their debts?

That means it can only be those few big shots.

Could it really be someone who did business with Dali before?

Antonio remained calm: "So what do you want?"

"Of course it's Franklin! The green Franklin!" The man in the black jacket stood up and reached into his pocket.

All the henchmen nervously pointed their pistols at him: "What are you doing!"

"Take your hand out!"

The man in the black jacket seemed oblivious, slowly pulling a card from his pocket with an email address written on it.

He placed the card on the table, winked, and said, "That's settled then. I'll send the transaction location and time to this email address. Hope we can do business together!"

After saying that, he politely pushed the chair back to its original position, raised his hand and waved as if saying goodbye to an old friend, then stretched before leaving unhurriedly.

The man in the black jacket didn't reveal his true purpose: to open up channels to South America. He needed to test Antonio's abilities first.

The underlings immediately followed him out.

Antonio watched him disappear before picking up the card, frowning as he looked at the mailbox number, which consisted of uppercase and lowercase letters, numbers, and English letters, just like a password.

The younger men returned one after another a few minutes later.

"Boss, there are no ambushes outside. He definitely came alone."

Antonio frowned, his expression grave.

That kid in the black jacket is incredibly brave.

If even one person had been nervous, he would have been riddled with bullets.

"Boss, are we going to do this business?" one of the underlings asked, his eyes gleaming.

The item the man in the black jacket was talking about was incredibly attractive.

Antonio said fiercely, "Do it! We're short of everything right now! The New York gangs have been dealt a blow, and if someone's willing to give us a batch of weapons first, take them! We'll deal with the rest later!"

What the consequences may be, we'll talk about that later.

He just barely escaped death and is not yet capable of being picky; he must recover his strength as soon as possible.

His core subordinates were absorbing the framework of the Ghost Shadow Gang while also integrating the remaining members of the original BG Gang. Their strength was far from returning to normal, and they were lacking in everything.

Unseen by everyone, a fly perched in the corner rubbed its two front legs together, silently observing everything.

An hour or two later, another fly flew in through the window and landed next to the first fly.

The flies that had been there earlier gently rose up, slipped through the window cracks, and disappeared into the night.

Richard wandered around the room, packed some personal belongings, and prepared to take them back to Baytop Villa.

The alarm on his phone went off; the alarm's name was "Antonio," reminding him that it was time to change the fly puppet next to Antonio.

Richard took out a dead fly, resurrected it into a flesh puppet, and released it.

Then continue tidying up.

Then, the phone lit up again.

Richard picked it up and saw a message from Helen: "Are you asleep?"

Sleep? Richard chuckled and looked outside. It was so bright outside, why would he want to sleep?

They're just making conversation for the sake of it.

Richard: No.

Helen lay on her pillow and glanced at the message; it was a "No" from Richard.

She stared at the words for a few seconds and thought Richard meant, "You're not asleep yet, we can chat."

That must be it!

Helen: "I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't expect my sister to come. Do you still want to come?"

Richard laughed and decided to tease her: "Yes, I do."

Why did I ask that question! Helen regretted it immediately, her cheeks flushed red: "What are you thinking?"

Richard: "Thinking about your outfit just now, it was actually quite see-through."

Ah! Helen's face flushed instantly.

She buried her face in the blanket.

Then he held the phone up to his eyes again and looked at those words once more: "Actually, it's quite transparent..."

Her face turned even redder, and her heart started racing.

Helen typed a few words, then deleted them, repeating this process several times, before finally sending only one sentence: "Do you like it?"

"I like it." Richard was quite honest.

Helen possesses a classical beauty, like a beautiful woman in an oil painting.

This elegant and dignified beauty, wearing such sheer clothing, exudes a subtle allure.

The feeling is somewhat like a woman's cheongsam, which is very covering but has a high slit, giving you a glimpse of it as you move. It is also very form-fitting, perfectly accentuating a woman's curves, allowing you to see the outline of what is hidden inside at a glance.

Catherine looks a bit too seductive in a cheongsam.

Helen, on the other hand, possessed a pure desire, yet also a natural shyness.

He said he liked it! Hahaha! Helen was so happy that she kicked her legs on the bed, her heart pounding so fast she could hardly breathe.

Richard didn't receive a reply from her, so he went to change his clothes.

I just took a shower, and my clothes weren't completely dry before I changed into my outer clothes, which wasn't very comfortable.

He changed into a few more clothes, and took the dirty ones back; Catherine would wash them.

Helen was excited for a while before replying, "I'll show it to you again later."

She regretted it as soon as she sent it, and put her phone face down on the bed as if she were waiting for a verdict.

But Richard didn't reply, leaving her feeling anxious and uncertain, her heart pounding in her chest.

Is he angry?

Isn't that being too forward? Does it make me seem a bit bitchy?

Helen scratched her head in distress, constantly checking her phone. When she still didn't receive a reply, she became restless.

Should we go next door and explain?

Richard only saw Helen's reply after changing his clothes: "I'll show it to you again later?"

A beautiful woman offering perks—only a fool wouldn't take it. Richard casually typed, "OK."

""

The screen lit up, and Helen immediately turned it on, finally breathing a sigh of relief.

Helen mustered her courage and asked again, "So—do you prefer wearing more clothes or less?"

"Pshaw, a real man doesn't choose, I want them all!" Richard exclaimed. "I like them all."

"I like whatever I wear, doesn't that mean you like me?" Helen read the sentence over and over three or four times, her excitement beyond words.

Richard likes me!

She buried her face in the pillow, and the corners of her mouth unconsciously turned up.

Emily is so annoying!

This is such a waste of time!

She turned over and looked at the chat history again, feeling happy every time she read it: "Okay, I still have some of those clothes I had before, I'll wear them for you next time."

After sending the message, she tucked her phone under her pillow, closed her eyes, and felt her ears burning.

Helen didn't know how she would face Richard in the future, but she didn't want to worry about that now.

Richard's words were still echoing in her mind: I like them all.

This is enough.

A fly flew in through a crack in the window and landed on the back of Richard's hand.

He took it casually, without paying much attention.

I've been monitoring Antonio for several days now, but he's been busy rebuilding the organizational structure of the BG Gang and the Ghost Gang. There's nothing to see here.

As a result, he saw a pleasant surprise today.

Black jacket!

The man in the black jacket went to find Antonio!

After Roderick's line broke, the black jacket went missing.

Damn America, there's too little surveillance, and it's too much trouble to find someone.

As a result, the black jacket appeared unexpectedly!

Furthermore, the fact that the Black Jackets have resumed their arms dealing suggests that the organization behind them believes that with the deaths of Roderick, Samuel, and Dali, the previous mess has been cleaned up, and they are resuming their activities.

The only pity is that the fly puppet was too stupid and didn't know to follow the black jacket, which led to his departure.

It doesn't matter, as long as we know that the black jacket is doing business with Antonio, we can catch him by the tail!

The man in the black jacket once again moved into the open, while he himself remained in the shadows!

After that, all we need to do is keep an eye on Antonio.

Richard also saw a golden statue through the fly puppet's memories.

Debbie's golden statue...

Holy crap!

The statue of Debbie Gold is placed alongside statues of deities such as the Second Master, Guanyin, and Jesus, and wears a crown of thorns.

That's so jarring!

Thankfully, the statuette is dressed as a saint. If it were dressed as a cheerleader and holding a rugby ball or pom-pom, it would look just like a figurine from some video games.

Richard looked at the fly's memory with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

He had observed Antonio for several days and understood his character all too well; he was a thorough pragmatist.

They worship all sorts of gods, believing that having more gods means having more paths to take.

Perhaps... Richard looked at the golden statue standing quietly on the table and had some idea.

My stamina will soon reach 16 points, which is enough to recruit a fourth servant.

He had been wavering between being a gangster's henchman and a wealthy man's henchman.

He took out the last [Leaping Soul].

[Leaping Soul] is indeed difficult to obtain, but my spirit is too low, and the power of [Soul Guardian] is too weak.

It can only be used as a token for now.

The number of servants is even more precious.

If Debbie King's statue were to work its magic again, could Antonio become a compliant pawn?

Richard resurrected another fly puppet, and the [Leaping Soul] entered the fly puppet's body.

The fly puppet became semi-transparent.

Richard closed his eyes, silently recited a command, and the fly puppet flew out.

A dozen minutes later, it flew into Antonio's lair and disappeared into the Debbie King statue.

Antonio was staring blankly at the golden statue at that moment.

Despite his decisive demeanor just now, it was actually an act in front of his subordinates. He wasn't sure if the deal with the black jacket was a trap.

However, he had no choice but to make a deal with the other party to quickly restore his strength.

Who is behind the black jacket?

Will I end up in a deep ditch?

Just then, a voice suddenly rang in his ears, very soft, like a woman's voice speaking in his ear: "Don't hesitate, forge ahead."

"Who!" Antonio turned his head sharply, but there was no one else in the room.

The voice rang in his ears again: "Don't hesitate, forge ahead."

He stared incredulously at the Debbie King statue.

This time he recognized it; it was exactly the same voice as Saint-Debbie's on TV!

"You... Saint-Debbie, you, you, are you guiding me?"

Antonio said, trembling.

The sound never came again.

Antonio's breathing became rapid.

He stared at the golden statue, remaining silent for a long time.

He carefully took the golden statue and examined it from all angles.

The statue is made of brass plated with gold; he didn't have enough money to make a solid gold statue.

The brass is hollow inside, with no electronic devices or speakers.

Antonio slowly loosened his clenched fist.

He didn't know where the sound came from, nor why it appeared at this time.

But a thought kept surfacing in his mind: Saint-Debbie is protecting me!

She is guiding me!

She knew my worries!

I didn't tell anyone about this, but she knew what I was thinking.

Saint-Debbie was truly a saint!

Antonio solemnly made the sign of the cross over the statue: "Saint-Debbie, I will follow your guidance."

He respectfully placed the gold statue in the center, and just as he was about to leave, he came back, put the gold statue into the safe, and carefully locked it away.

Vatican.

As Sebastian Hale walked out of the council chamber, the people who had been talking in hushed tones all fell silent.

He heard someone say in a very low voice, "—the crown of golden thorns," and then the voice stopped.

Sebastian Hale didn't stop, his back straight, his gray eyes looking straight ahead as he walked past, as if he hadn't heard anything at all.

The cardinals on both sides turned their heads in surprise.

Some people bent down to straighten the hem of their robes, while others pretended to look at unopened documents in their hands.

Sebastian Hale walked through the covered walkway.

A tall, strong figure blocked his way.

Valentine, a moderate cardinal.

Valentine's broad frame blocked the road, towering over Sebastian Hale by more than half a head and a third wider.

Valentine, suppressing his rage, cried out, "Cardinal Hale, do you know what you're doing?!"

Sebastian Hale stopped in his tracks, his lean and sharp figure showing no fear. He looked up at Valentine: "Valentine, just say what you have to say."

"You know what I'm talking about! Sebastian Hale!" Valentine stared at Hale, his voice low and his face almost touching the other's. "I'm asking about the decision! Who made the decision!"

Sebastian Hale, expressionless, replied: "Me."

Valentine narrowed his eyes and roared, "It's the Pope!"

"The Pope didn't inform anyone about this; he's trying to shift the blame onto you!" Valentine took a half-step forward. "He won't speak up for you!"

Sebastian Hale's grey eyes did not flinch: "I don't care about your so-called pot; I act on behalf of the Lord."

"You're acting on behalf of the Lord?" Valentine grabbed Hale's sleeve. "You're putting a crown of thorns on a cheerleader, and the whole world is watching! Do you know what that means?"

The crown of thorns has strong symbolic meaning in Catholicism; Jesus wore the crown of thorns during his crucifixion.

"If the Lord chooses a cheerleader today, a shepherd tomorrow, and a vagrant the day after, but only after consulting the College of Cardinals before making a choice..." Hale glanced down at Valentine's hand gripping his sleeve, not pulling away, then looked up at Valentine again, saying slowly and deliberately, "The Vatican will no longer have a worthy saint!"

"Do you know what you're saying?" Valentine's voice lowered, his face flushed.

"I know." Sebastian Hale's face was icy. "I told the truth. Just because you don't like to hear it doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Valentine loosened his robe sleeves, stared at him for a few seconds, his breathing became heavier, and finally said, "Remember what you said today."

"Get out of my way! Don't block my path of seeking the truth!" Sebastian Hale shoved Valentine aside and walked straight past.

"I'll be watching you, Sebastian!" Valentine roared. "I'll be watching you!"

Sebastian Hale did not turn back; his figure disappeared into the depths of the corridor.

Valentine stood there, his clenched fist slowly loosening.

A priest passing by glanced at him, but Valentine glared at him fiercely, and the priest immediately lowered his head and walked away quickly.

"Hmph!" Valentine walked away quickly.

Richard slowed down as the vehicle entered the street where Francis Lewis High School is located.

The surrounding neighborhood was quite different from when he last came here.

The trash cans on the roadside have been replaced with new ones, the cracks in the sidewalk have been repaired, and in front of the convenience store on the street corner, there used to be three or four thugs in hoodies squatting, with spiked candies or tobacco hidden in their arms.

It's empty now.

An NYPD patrol car was parked at the intersection, and the officer was sitting inside drinking coffee, only glancing at the Porsche as it passed by.

Brian's good and bad zone policy was gradually implemented by Isabella.

They divided the whole of New York into good and bad districts.

All neighborhoods and districts with good relationships with Brian, Isabella, and O'Connor, the core residential areas of friendly departments such as the NYPD and OCME, Manhattan, various wealthy neighborhoods, Wall Street, government departments, and areas where large taxpayer companies are located were all designated as good neighborhoods, accounting for about one-sixth of New York City.

The rest of the area is all bad.

Police presence in good areas is increased by 3 to 5 times to crack down on gangs in these areas. As a result, the number of police officers in other areas is naturally reduced sharply. Gangs in good areas are naturally pushed to bad areas, making the bad areas even worse.

(Richard naturally ordered Brian to designate places Debbie frequented, such as Francis Lewis High School and St. Carlisle Church, as good areas.)

The policy has only just been implemented, and its effects have not yet been fully realized, yet there is already widespread lamentation.

City councilors and assembly members from all the bad neighborhoods are furious.

Manterson was furious. It is said that he called Isabella over again, shut the door and gave her a severe scolding for two hours. When Isabella left, Manterson saw her off with his back in his hand, unable to straighten up. The mayor looked extremely angry.

Brian was also under immense pressure.

However, he didn't care, since he had already been boycotted by the Donald Party.

Now, they have gained additional supporters; at least one-sixth of the good district councilors have become more ambivalent.

This displeased Brian; you might be a good area today, but a bad area tomorrow.

so..

In Richard's view, this is a typical case of abusing public resources for private gain; if this were at the University of Tokyo, he would be stripped of his job in no time.

However, Brian actually carried it out recklessly.

Moreover, for the time being, no one really can do anything about him.

As a seasoned politician, Brian skillfully avoided several major pitfalls during the execution of his plan.

First, Brian gave the good and bad zone policy a good name.

The "Refined Police Deployment Plan Based on Grid-Based Urban Safety Risk Classification" states: "The New York City Police Department is currently facing a tight budget, and public safety pressures across the city's five boroughs continue to rise. Urban safety risks are becoming increasingly complex and difficult to manage. To allocate limited law enforcement resources in the most efficient and evidence-based manner..."

""

"We will first designate and establish a number of model safety demonstration zones, and fully implement standardized patrol duties within these zones."

Risk prevention and control mechanisms and a comprehensive public safety governance system...

""

"We will learn from the experience of managing low-risk areas, using low-risk areas to help high-risk areas, and gradually extend this approach to the entire New York City area..."

"6

"The NYPD doesn't ignore high-risk areas; it manages them systematically, step-by-step, and scientifically, blah blah blah..."

'

Simply put, we've already tried, and the current money isn't enough to securely manage all of New York's boroughs, so why not try a different approach? The outcome can't get any worse, right?

Secondly, police incident data should replace wealth and race as important criteria for dividing areas.

We will not divide areas into high, medium, and low risk zones based on income or community ethnicity, but will instead retrieve statistical data on 119 emergency calls, violent crimes, property cases, and mass incidents from the past five years.

The area is publicly claimed to be low-risk because it is home to financial centers, landmark buildings, large commercial districts, and foreign institutions. It is considered a key public safety node in the city and requires a high density of police force for counter-terrorism and major security operations.

In reality, affluent areas, government districts, and areas where NYPD officers reside are naturally safer and are therefore classified as low-risk areas.

Finally, this means that poor neighborhoods and predominantly African American and South American neighborhoods will almost certainly be bad neighborhoods.

This would be considered a discriminatory law enforcement policy based on race and class, leading to a federal civil rights lawsuit.

Therefore, Brian precisely selected a group of low- and middle-income areas and designated them as good districts, specifically to shut up the civil rights litigators.

The screening method is also very simple: which official or employee doesn't have a poor relative?

Weare tired of logging!

The entire NYPD is one family!

Isabella has set up an internal application system where brothers can register for relatives and friends in their neighborhoods. We try our best to meet everyone's needs.

For example, Francis Lewis School is like that.

This move not only silenced those who criticized discriminatory law enforcement, but also won over a large number of low- and mid-level police officers, allowing them to show off in front of their own relatives.

When an area is designated as a good zone and the level of public security improves significantly, the benefits felt by family members naturally increase. In contrast to the poor security in the neighboring bad zone, the police officers' sense of belonging becomes stronger, and they naturally stick together closely.

It's only just begun, and the city council is already in an uproar. Many city councilors have united to demand control over the NYPD's budget allocations and force the NYPD to change its policy.

In short, this policy is tantamount to forcibly disrupting the previous distribution of benefits and seizing the right to allocate the important resource of "personal safety".

Of course, the risks are also very high.

Brian was under immense pressure, but he wasn't in a hurry.

Change creates opportunities for action.

The muddier the water, the easier it is to fish in troubled waters.

Isabella then used this as a pretext to launch a major internal purge, eliminating anyone who did not resolutely carry out the orders.

Terrick, Miller, and the rest of Justice Salon's group were all reassigned to marginal positions by her various means.

In short, it was chaotic, and everyone was overwhelmed, but the policy was still implemented in a stumbling and haphazard manner.

It looked like walking a tightrope, but she actually didn't fall.

In fact, in the United States, a society that values ​​self-reliance and hard work, there is a basis of public opinion for such implementation.

That's what the police always do.

They protect the wealthy meticulously, but rarely go to poor areas, and they don't even want to collect the bodies of the dead.

It's just become clearer and more extreme now.

Besides opponents, there are also extremist social activists who sing praises online.

Correct!

This should have been done a long time ago!

Losers, go eat dust!

Richard finally discovered Brian's greatest strength.

This guy is good at manipulating the rules to suit his own interests, but he's not suited to being a congressman and arguing with others.

Or, could we find an opportunity to change his position?

Richard's car turned into the parking lot.

Several students waiting for the door to open noticed the Porsche. Some whistled, some took out their phones to take a picture, and others just glanced at it before continuing to look down at their phones.

Porsches aren't very common in school parking lots, but they're not exactly rare either.

"We've arrived." Richard parked the car.

Debbie pushed open the car door and got out, wearing a light-colored sweatshirt and her hair tied in a low ponytail.

All eyes turned to her; someone recognized her, and within seconds, several people began whispering among themselves.

"Debbie! Debbie's really back?"

"Isn't she dancing for the Giants?"

"She's a saint now, doesn't she go to private school?"

"Who cares if she comes back or not?"

Richard felt the gazes of countless people.

He was used to it, whether he was Francis Louis's school bully, his cheerleader boyfriend, or his saintly boyfriend.

They are all very eye-catching.

He's gotten used to wearing a mask when he goes out to avoid unnecessary trouble. If some extreme Protestant fanatic were to perform an American-style iaido on him, he really wouldn't be able to withstand it.

As the two passed through the metal detector gate, it beeped. Richard, as usual, held up his car keys. The security guard glanced at them and smiled, "Go in."

Richard remembered the locker numbers in the hallway. There were several new notice boards on the wall, and a photo of Debbie during her Giants interview was posted on the bulletin board, with the words "Alumni Success Path" written in marker below.

"You're famous now," Richard said with a smile.

Debbie proudly raised her head: "That's right!"

A boy walked by and, upon seeing Debbie, paused, exclaiming, "Debbie... Saint Debbie really came back to school!"

Debbie glared at him and said fiercely, "Don't call me Saint, call me by my name! Or Queen!"

The boy remembered that Debbie was still the school's queen, and he ran away in fear, covering his head and trembling, afraid of being bullied.

Serena crossed her arms, watched Debbie approach, looked her up and down, and smiled, "Her Highness the Saintess is back!"

Debbie patted her on the shoulder: "Hey! Serena. The cheerleaders didn't slack off while I was gone, did they?"

"I'm the captain now! Call me captain! I thought you'd never come back to school. Now that you're famous, what are you doing back? Experiencing life?"

Richard glanced around the classroom; his seat was still available.

Everything is pretty much the same as before.

Tang Yuqing and a few other girls surrounded Debbie, trying to get closer to say a few words. She was wearing the same exaggerated Asian makeup as before, with arched eyeliner, raised eyebrows, and dark red lips.

Oh, she has a new tattoo on the back of her hand.

Tang Yuanfan is truly pitiful; he has really suffered a terrible fate.

Richard looked around but didn't see any particularly malicious glances.

Most students are curious, jealous, or envious, which is normal.

Richard's main purpose in accompanying Debbie this time was to check on the school's situation and save his nanny's life.

It looks pretty good now.

Most of the students at Francis Lewis High School come from lower-middle-class backgrounds; they are either not religious or are hypocritical and superficial believers.

They haven't encountered the biggest setback in their lives yet, and religion has limited meaning for them, except for the "Amen" that some parents force them to say during meals.

In their view, Debbie's sainthood is largely similar to that of an alternative celebrity or internet celebrity, not much different from a rapper.

"Hey! Debbie! You broke that empty cross Thai pants in the Giants! How did you do that? Can you teach me? My mom's face turned black! Hahaha!" A rebellious teenager brazenly mocked his Protestant mother.

Debbie was also very excited: "That's a miracle! You understand!"

"Hahaha!" Everyone burst into laughter. "Tell us, how did you do that!"

In their view, the effect of that scene was roughly similar to some kind of large-scale magic trick, but they didn't know how it was achieved.

Besides the ordinary students, Richard also unexpectedly saw two or three rather devout believers.

They were hesitant to approach Debbie, and even began to emanate an aura of unorthodox faith.

"Guys, you've really hit the jackpot." Richard glanced at them and headed towards the principal's office.

I walked to the office door, knocked, and went inside.

Principal George Smith, sitting behind his desk with his collar neatly buttoned, smiled and gestured to the chair opposite Richard as he entered: "Sit down, Richard."

Richard sat down.

Principal Smith picked up a form: "SAT School Day is the day after tomorrow. Your name is already on the list. Report at 7:45, the exam starts at 8:30, reading, writing, and math, with a 10-minute break in between. The whole process will take about 3 hours, ending around 11:30. Here, the details are on the form."

Richard's second task was to return and prepare for the SAT exam, which he could finish in one morning.

He changed his mind and didn't want to waste any more time at Francis Lewis High School.

The SAT scores are released two weeks after the exam.

I took the AP exam in May and received my graduation certificate.

He has already been accepted into Princeton's summer program in June.

Then, complete all eligibility accumulation before July and formally submit the SCEA Restricted Early Application.

If Princeton accepts him, he will be able to enter Princeton early as a special genius, fully in accordance with the rules.

"I know," Richard said.

"Then there's no problem." Principal Smith adjusted his glasses. "Just be there on time the day after tomorrow."

Richard nodded and stood up: "Thank you, Principal."

He walked out of the classroom and found Debbie.

"What did the principal say?"

"The exam is at 8:30 the day after tomorrow. Arrive at 7:45 and finish before noon."

Debbie said "Oh," then her expression darkened: "So you—you're leaving after the exam?"

"I didn't really do much in high school," Richard said. "Then came summer school, and then I enrolled in school."

"So you're not going to study here anymore?" Debbie looked at him.

"I'm currently studying at Princeton."

Debbie pouted, "Then what should I do?"

"You're going to Princeton too?"

"How am I supposed to get there?" Debbie asked. "I haven't graduated yet."

"Go next year, what's the rush?"

"Princeton is full of sluts! Why am I in such a hurry!" Debbie said unhappily. "If you leave this year and I go next year, that's still a year away, isn't it?"

Richard thought a year was a long time, but then he suddenly realized that it seemed pointless to let Debbie continue.

Like most middle school students, she didn't study at all; having fun was all that mattered.

"Debbie, what is 3 x 7?"

Debbie snapped, "Do you think I'm an idiot? 45!"

Richard gasped. "Brilliant! Where is the capital of the United States?"

"New York!" Debbie exclaimed, bewildered. "OMG! I live in New York! Do you think I wouldn't know that?"

Richard immediately said, "I think you could go to Princeton this year too."

"This year?" Debbie asked hesitantly. "That's Princeton! If I'm not in 12th grade, I won't understand, will I?"

Fortunately, she still had some self-awareness.

I know I won't understand it when I get there.

Richard asked, "So, if you finish 12th grade and then go, you'll be able to understand?"

Debbie was initially angry, but then quickly realized, "That makes sense. I don't understand it anyway, so why should I waste my time? It makes no difference!"

Debbie took out her phone and dialed Sawyer's number directly.

It rang twice, and then the other end answered.

"Your Highness?" Sawyer's voice came, sounding timid, as if afraid of hearing some terrible news.

Debbie said, "I have something I want to ask you."

"Wait!" Sawyer interrupted hastily, clutching the heart pill in his hand before speaking in a tone of resigned acceptance of death, "Speak, Your Highness."

Debbie said, "I want to go to Princeton as soon as possible. I don't want to stay in high school anymore."

She actually talked to me about school? Sawyer was stunned for a few seconds, then tentatively asked, "—Why did you suddenly think of that?"

"Well... it's too dangerous here!" Debbie had a sudden thought: "Francis Lewis High School has all sorts of people, and it's not exactly safe. It's too dangerous. Yeah, that's it. Princeton is much safer."

(Debbie: Let's not talk about the shooting.)

Sawyer was silent for a moment, then felt a sense of relief, like his own silly son had finally grown up. He said, moved, "Your Highness, you're finally starting to consider your own safety. Alright, I can help you. Francis Louise isn't really a suitable place for you; the student body is mixed, with members from various Protestant factions. Something could happen any day. Princeton is much better."

"When can I go?"

"The procedures will take time. But Your Highness, please tell me first, what SAT score is currently possible?"

"I didn't pass the test."

"Then take the test as soon as possible. For Ivy League schools, you need at least a 1300 SAT score and a GPA over 3.0 before I can even begin to work on it."

"GPA?" Debbie asked. "What was my GPA again?"

"Don't you know that yourself?"

"—I forgot."

""

There was a moment of silence on the other end: "How about we check it out now?"

Debbie took the phone away from her ear and looked at Richard: "What's my GPA?"

Richard said, "Your GPA last semester was 2.5."

2.5!

Sawyer heard this on the other end of the phone. This result was indeed beyond his expectations. He was silent for a while before saying, "If it's this low, I'll have to think of another way. Your Highness, please wait a moment, I'll get back to you tonight."

OK!

Richard left Debbie at school.

He also needs to go to Princeton today to complete the early application process.

In addition, Christina gave him some good news last night.

While researching the Ivan virus, she unexpectedly spurred the anti-aging project, achieving a breakthrough!

Richard sat at the table in Christina's lab, a stack of test reports spread out in front of him.

Christina stood next to the whiteboard, holding a marker in her hand, and circled the words "Ivan virus".

"We still haven't found Substance X," Christina said, "but I discovered something while researching the Ivan virus."

"This is a retrovirus. Simply put, it inserts its own DNA into the host cell and passes it on to future generations."

"So I designed an experiment: Edgar gave me some blood containing the Ivan virus. I genetically edited these Ivan viruses multiple times, greatly reducing their harmful effects. Then I used the modified Ivan virus to infect the flesh puppet remains. As the flesh puppet remains died in time, the modified Ivan virus inside also died. I then asked my master to revive these remains, and I discovered that the modified Ivan virus inside had also been revived!"

"Then, when I used these revived, modified Ivan virus cells to infect other normal cells, the Ivan virus cells revived by their owners embedded their own DNA into them. These normal cells really did achieve a rejuvenation effect, with their telomeres returning to their original length! That's rejuvenation!"

"Although we still don't know what Substance X is or whether it exists, the Ivan virus injects something mysterious into normal cells, giving them a rejuvenating effect similar to that of flesh-and-blood puppet cells!"

"We'll temporarily call this modified virus the 'youth virus'."

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