Taoist priest goes to America

Chapter 124 The Cannibal from Seoul

The night wind carried the earthy smell of the park's lawn as it swept over Li An. Just as he stepped out of the tent, he saw a policewoman walking briskly across the cordon. She had a professional, gentle smile on her face and was heading straight for the old soldier who was still slumped on the ground. She had clearly received the captain's order to "comfort the old man properly."

Her name was Leah, a white police officer who looked to be around twenty years old. She wore her badge on her belt and had her red hair tied in a neat ponytail.

She walked behind Boone, bent down, and stretched out her right hand, hovering her palm above Boone's shoulder, about to gently pat him.

A white lab coat flew from the side and landed squarely on her face.

Policewoman Lia's vision went black for a moment. She reacted quickly, pulling her right hand back and grabbing the white coat covering her face, pulling it out.

At the same time, his left hand reached behind his waist and drew the Taser.

The special training on the training ground made the movements incredibly smooth, and there was no hesitation between being attacked and drawing the gun.

She ripped off her white coat, and the laser sight of her Taser was already fired, the red dot of light sweeping rapidly through the darkness, searching for the attacker's location.

However, the moment her vision returned to light, there was no one in front of her.

The lame old soldier who had been slumped on the ground vanished into thin air, leaving only the flattened lawn and a few messy footprints.

She spun around in place, holding the Taser. Directly in front of her was the green tent with its work lights still on, and behind her were flashing police lights and a rioting crowd.

Lia pursed her lips, slowly lowered the gun, her eyes filled with confusion.

On the curb next to the park, Ang Lee squatted down and gently put the old soldier he was carrying on his back down.

Veteran Boone was very light; long-term malnutrition and street life had eroded half his weight. When Ang Lee carried him out of the park woods, it took almost no effort.

The old soldier sat on the curb, his back hunched, his hands hanging limply between his knees, the streetlights casting a cold glow on his gray hair.

He didn't cry out loud, but tears kept flowing, running down the deep lines etched on his face by the years, dripping from his chin onto his worn-out trousers, staining a small, dark, damp patch.

Ang Lee didn't comfort him. Instead, he leaned against the trunk of a nearby sycamore tree, took out his phone, and sent Nigel a short but clearly angry message: "Who exactly did you hire? Not only a serial killer, but also an organ eater?"

Nigel's reply came shortly after the message was sent. The cold text appeared on the screen: "Mr. Li An, you requested the low-price package. Low prices don't offer much guarantee. It's written in the package terms and conditions, and I specifically reminded you of that."

Li An stared at the screen for a moment, not replying immediately. He remembered that there was indeed such a thing.

At the time, he felt that it was not worth spending too much money on something as trivial as kidnapping a homeless person. Nigel did mention that "the person who carries out the low-price package may not be very stable."

He was in such a hurry to get this done that he naturally assumed that a low price would suffice, and he didn't even finish reading the risk warnings before replying "okay".

Looking back now, it's clear that he hadn't given it enough thought, and Ang Lee silently acknowledged this mistake in his heart.

However, the effect seemed even better when Ang Lee looked at the old soldier sitting on the curb, who looked like he had lost his soul.

If it were just a simple kidnapping case, and Boone was anxious and angry because his friend had been kidnapped, and Boone took the opportunity to help him find his friend, the gratitude he would receive would be limited.

But now it's completely different. His old friend, with whom he had depended on each other for several years, had his chest ripped open while he was still alive, his internal organs removed, leaving only an empty shell soaking in a pool of blood.

Once that image enters your mind, you'll never forget the hatred for killing your friend.

This is exactly the effect Ang Lee wanted: to make veterans despair of American society and turn them into wholehearted believers in him, "Saint Michael".

I was worried about how to get an old soldier to pick up a gun again, but the cannibals really helped him a lot.

Ang Lee reopened his phone and sent another message.

"Can you find out the ogre's location? What kind of ogre is he?"

Nigel seemed to have anticipated his question, and messages popped up one after another: "There's not just one cannibal, there are four, a gang."

"They got in touch with us through selling corpses. We had an intermediary who did body smuggling in New York Harbor, and they were responsible for providing the goods."

"But later, the bodies they provided had fewer and fewer organs, and many buyers complained about the quality of the bodies, so the middleman broke off the cooperation."

"Later we learned that the four of them were all South Koreans, and they used to be a group of low-level cleaners in Seoul."

"They were kicked out because they stole a large number of organs from corpses."

"After illegally entering the United States, I didn't have legal status here and worked illegally in the American organ trafficking circle for more than two years."

The leader's name is unclear, but his subordinates call him "doctor." It is said that he was indeed a surgeon in South Korea, but his license was revoked due to his mental illness.

"The other three were his former assistants and a guy who called himself a nutritionist. All four of them loved to eat organs, and every time they caught prey, they would hide in a fixed, secluded spot to eat it."

"When we first connected with them, we implanted microchips in all our external suppliers to prevent them from implicating us if they were caught."

"I'll send you their real-time location later."

"Oh? You don't care if I kill them?" Li An sent a message.

"I don't care if you kill them. I originally wanted to take them under my wing, but these four people just couldn't control their bloodlust."

"They kill wherever they go, they don't know what restraint is. The New York police have their eyes on them, and they're bound to crash and burn sooner or later."

"It's better if they die sooner, so they won't cause us any trouble."

After watching the last paragraph, Ang Lee turned off his phone screen and put it in his pocket.

He left the tree trunk, walked to the curb, and sat down next to Boone.

The shadows of the sycamore trees fell obliquely on the two of them, and fallen leaves swirled in the night wind on the road. After a moment of silence, Li An reached out and patted Boone on the shoulder.

Boone turned his head, his face, covered in wrinkles and old scars, was covered in tears, his entire face soaked with tears, his cloudy eyes filled with sadness and numbness, like a dry well.

Ang Lee looked at him and said slowly, “Child, don’t cry yet. The murderers who killed your friend are still preparing to devour his body. These demons disguised themselves as mortals and are wreaking havoc on the world. I can already smell the stench on them.”

Ang Lee turned to the old soldier's cloudy, bloodshot eyes. "Are you willing to work with me to take care of them?"