Taoist priest goes to America

Li An vigorously rubbed his feet on the curb to clean the bloodstains on the soles of Shi Fang's shoes.

He glanced around at the homeless people still folded up in their folds, still under the influence of the enhancer, and made sure there were no eyewitnesses.

The scene was turned upside down by White House, leaving the American police with far too many clues.

Although Ang Lee had previously witnessed the attitude of American police in handling cases, he knew that they were unlikely to care about the deaths of homeless people and low-level gangsters.

But if the gruesome crime scene that Old White created were mistaken by the American police as some kind of wild beast running into the city, it would be a real problem if they started investigating.

Ang Lee didn't want the police to find Old White and drag him into it, or let Americans know too early that there was an Asian man who could use magic and resurrect corpses all over New York City.

Looking at Lao Bai, who was standing motionless and quietly beside him, Li An suddenly thought of something.

Did that bald black man just say he was going to sell Old White? And that the group that collects corpses are all perverts who like gruesome deaths?

This was exactly what he wanted; there was no one to help him dispose of the two corpses, and the money he found on them was far too little.

In a fantasy world, the principle of burial is valued, and selling "clients" indiscriminately is a serious violation of the law, despised by the general public; it's something only evil cultivators would do.

But now that I'm in America, this is a good deal that happens all the time.

I need to adapt in time and do as the Romans do.

Reeves immediately walked to the bald black man's corpse with two large holes punched in it, took out the iPhone he had looted from him, and pressed the fingerprint lock with the corpse's finger.

I opened my contacts and quickly swiped through them, finding a number labeled "The Cleaner."

"The cleaner... that's probably it?"

Ang Lee wrote down the number, walked to the phone booth next to the bus stop, and pushed open the rusty iron frame door.

A strong smell of burning hemp leaves mixed with the old white man's body odor immediately hit Li An's face, making him feel nauseous.

Ang Lee pinched his nose and waved his hand to dispel the stench in the pavilion, looking with disgust at the layers of graffiti and little GGs that had been covering each other for years.

He remembered that when he came to New York in 2014, they had already started dismantling the old-fashioned coin-operated phone booths. Why aren't they finished yet?

However, Ang Lee didn't pay much attention to this. He took out a 25-cent coin from the black man's wallet and put it into the coin slot.

As the coin clicked into the receiver, Ang Lee used his left hand to lift the tape-wrapped receiver, held it to his ear, and entered the "cleaner" number with his right hand.

He quickly dialed the number, which went dead, and someone answered the phone shortly afterward.

Ang Lee moved the receiver to his mouth and said in a calm tone:

"Hello, I need to clear some business."

"There are fresh bodies here that need to be processed."

There was a five-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Then, a distorted male electronic voice came through. It spoke rapidly, with a hissing, static-like quality:

"Where are the bodies located? What are their numbers and 'quality'? Are they mutilated?"

"The location is..." Li An took out his iPhone, opened the navigation, and found that almost all the place names on it were unfamiliar to him; he could only pronounce their names:

"Brownsville neighborhood, at the intersection of Stol Street and Vonnia Avenue, next to the bus stop."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two black corpses:

"Quantity 2, as for 'quality'..."

"One of the wounds was extremely horrific and rare. You've probably never seen a penetrating wound like this before."

Li An glanced at Old White outside the phone booth. At that moment, Old White was pressed against the glass of the phone booth, staring at him. His arms were covered in the blood of the bald black man, which was dripping onto the ground. From inside the phone booth, he looked like a demon.

A penetrating wound inflicted by forceful insertion with both hands is certainly rare.

"Another person suffered severe opioid poisoning and had a hand bitten off by a wild animal."

"Of course, the price is negotiable," Li An added.

The person on the other end of the phone immediately replied, "Sir, please wait fifteen minutes, we'll be there right away."

"Okay." Li An hung up the phone, put the receiver back on, opened the iron-framed door, and walked out of the pavilion.

Old Bai was still standing there, staring blankly at the phone booth, waiting for him to come out.

"Hey! Come here." Li An waved to it, signaling it to come over.

Old Bai stood there blankly, his blood-red eyes devoid of any expression. But when he saw his "master" calling him, he slowly lowered his head and obediently walked over.

There was one more problem to solve before the cleaners arrived.

That's because Lao Bai is too conspicuous.

His body was covered in blood, his skin was bluish-purple with spots, and the flesh on his forehead and chest was torn open by bullets.

That faded long-sleeved work uniform was now mostly stained red with blood.

Cleaners are professionals in this field; they should be able to spot a corpse at a glance.

Ang Lee immediately made a decision, tearing a large piece of cloth from the nearby tent and wrapping Old Bai's entire body completely.

Ang Lee then checked again to make sure they wouldn't be exposed. He then pulled Old White into the group of homeless people who were taking drugs, folded him up into a "triple fold" position, and mixed him in with the army of drug users.

Soon, a white van pulled up next to the old bus stop. It was right on time, exactly fifteen minutes later.

The truck door slid open, and a strange smell of disinfectant mixed with refrigerant immediately wafted out.

Three figures dressed entirely in black jumped down first. They were about the same height and were completely encased in dark black, fully sealed protective suits from head to toe, with no skin exposed. The suits covered their faces with gas masks, and they carried small recirculating tanks on their backs.

The three people had their faces completely covered by full-face gas masks, the lenses of which were dark, obscuring their eyes.

Their movements were synchronized; they silently began unloading the folding stretchers, black body bags, and spraying equipment from the vehicle.

Until the fourth figure appeared.

The fourth person was the last to get off the bus. He was rather thin and carried a heavy silver metal box. His protective suit was the same as the other three, but he had an extra sleeve on his left arm.

His cuff was dark red and had a strange pattern drawn on it: a black snake devouring its own tail, forming a perfect closed loop.

Ang Lee was intrigued. This person might be a team leader, but his attire made him look less like a scavenger collecting corpses and more like a member of some mysterious organization researching how corpses can be resurrected.

Instead of immediately joining the cleaning, the person stood on the concrete ground, slowly turning his head to scan his surroundings.

His gaze first lingered on the blood that had spilled all over the ground, then fell on the remaining body of the black man.

Finally, the gaze fell on Ang Lee, who was also looking at him.

Sensing Li An's gaze, he strode directly towards her. Reaching her, he spoke in a deep, yet still magnetic, female voice, pierced through his gas mask:

Are you the person who made the call?

Ang Lee did not respond, but simply nodded slightly.

She extended her right hand, which was covered by protective clothing, and said softly:

"Hello, my name is Nigel Colworth, you can just call me Nigel."

Ang Lee also extended his right hand and shook hands with her through the protective suit.

"My name is Li An, just call me Li."