Taoist priest goes to America

At this point, the cleaning work was nearing completion.

The scavengers began spraying a milky white foam with spray guns. The foam quickly melted the blood and bits of flesh stuck to the ground, making a sizzling burning sound.

Next, they used a high-pressure water gun to rinse it. Under the impact of the water gun, the milky white foam faded and disappeared, and the original cement color was revealed in the areas that were originally stained with blood.

The air was filled with the smell of cleaning agents and disinfectants, and the smell of blood was so faint that it was completely undetectable.

All evidence, including shell casings, limbs, and bloodstained clothing, had already been cleared away and placed in black disposal bags.

As the cleaning was nearing completion and the transaction was finished, Nigel bowed goodbye and turned to walk towards his car.

She waved to her three assistants in front of the car, who then tossed the body bag containing the bald black man's corpse into the vehicle like trash. They then carefully lifted the gold-chained black man, whose body was of research value, into the car and placed it in a refrigerated compartment.

Nigel took a few steps, then suddenly stopped, turned to Ang Lee and said:

"Mr. Li, there's one more thing I need to tell you."

"explain."

"These two corpses... judging from the skull tattoos on their bodies, they were members of a local gang called 'Skull Finger.' They deal in enhancement drugs and loan sharks, have over two thousand men, and many of them are mad dogs."

Ang Lee raised an eyebrow. This guy actually had the nerve to remind him; he's pretty good at business.

"The Skull Point gang, right?" he asked again to confirm.

Nigel nodded. "After we acquire the bodies, we record their identities and the people who sold them. If someone comes to us paying to investigate, we'll sell them that information."

"Because you are not a VIP customer, your sales records are not protected."

"Two of my underlings were killed in the street. They won't let this go. Even if you didn't kill them, they'll still come after you after you sold the bodies."

"How much does your VIP membership cost?" Li An asked.

"VIP membership costs four thousand dollars a month, and the level of confidentiality fluctuates depending on the price offered by the investigator," she said casually, tilting her head.

Ang Lee laughed, a laugh born of exasperation.

"I'm warning you, these rabid dogs will be looking for you everywhere lately. It's best not to go out for a while and find a secluded place to stay."

"My number is on my business card. You can contact me if you need any additional assistance."

"Of course, that's a separate deal." Nigel smiled, then turned and walked away.

Just then, Ang Lee called out to her.

"Do you have any deodorant that can mask the smell of a corpse? If so, sell me a bottle." Li An pulled out twenty dollars from his pocket and held out the money to her, asking.

"Yes, but you don't have to pay for it." Nigel waved his hand, refusing Ang Lee's payment. "Consider it after-sales service... no, 'after-sales service'."

She bent down and opened the inner lining of her protective suit at the thigh, where three thick, silver-white spray bottles were bound together.

Nigel took out three bottles and handed them all to Ang Lee.

Ang Lee was silent for a moment, then said "Thank you" to her retreating figure.

Nigel didn't linger. He walked to the car in a few steps, stepped onto the side steps of the van, and got in. The other three followed silently.

The doors closed slowly, the truck started, and the roar of its engine faded into the distance.

The white car, with its bright red taillights, quickly disappeared into the New York night, leaving behind only the pungent smell of exhaust fumes.

Ang Lee watched the cleaners leave before turning back to Old White, who was still cosplaying as a homeless man.

However, at this moment, Lao Bai, who was still folded up and wrapped in the tent cloth, suddenly swayed and fell to the ground on the concrete. He landed face down with a loud "thud".

"Hmm?" Seeing Lao Bai's sudden abnormal state, Li An also sensed that something was wrong.

The connection between himself and Lao Bai was getting weaker and weaker, like a malfunctioning machine that could not receive Li An's signals.

He squatted down and flipped Old White over again to check what was wrong with it.

Old Bai's blood-red eyes were still open, but his eyelids drooped as if he were dozing off, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep.

Its upper body was still relatively firm, maintaining the posture that Ang Lee had arranged, but its lower body was limp and powerless, as if it had returned to a corpse state, unable to support its body to stand up.

Ang Lee quickly found the problem: the yellow talisman on Old Bai's forehead was soaked in corpse blood.

The black man with the gold chain suffered a devastating counterattack, which ripped half of the talisman off. Old White also had four or five coin-sized holes in his forehead, and the grayish-black blood that flowed out stained the talisman, blurring the runes on it.

"Tsk, half of it is destroyed and stained with corpse blood, it's ruined."

"Whoosh—" Li An directly peeled off the nearly expired talisman, drew a new talisman with his blood, and immediately pasted it on.

Old Bai, now energized after having the new talisman affixed, opened his eyes wide and stood up straight from the ground.

Seeing that Lao Bai had recovered, Li An checked him over again to see if there were any other problems.

However, the most worrying problem has already emerged: guns can indeed pose a threat to White House, and almost everyone in the United States owns a gun.

The power of modern firearms should not be underestimated, especially in the United States, a country where everyone owns a gun.

If an old man were to hit Lao Bai in the head with a single shot, damaging the talisman on Lao Bai's head and dissipating its magical power with the corpse blood, then Lao Bai would be dead.

And now we are facing new problems.

"There are still too few talismans." Li An flipped through the remaining yellow talismans; there were only thirteen left.

He originally had fifteen sheets in his pocket for backup, but one was damaged, so he had to re-paste it. He used up two sheets just for the "person" Lao Bai.

The remaining thirteen sheets couldn't be wasted like this; these were "Luofu Yellow Paper," made through a special process. The pulp was made from a mixture of peach bark and sacred vines from Mount Luofu, and he dared say it was unlikely to be found in America.

We must now use them sparingly. We can't waste the precious Luofu Yellow Talismans on those corpses we just pick up on the street. We have to spend them on corpses that can give him advanced skills.

Ang Lee glanced at the business card. Nigel had said that the goods were hard to find and the pickup time was long, and he didn't know how long it would take to hear back.

Problems kept piling up.

There are still alternative solutions to the problem of insufficient talisman paper.

Go to a bustling downtown area in New York and look for the local Chinatown; there will definitely be professional shops selling talismans there.

Although it's most likely just ordinary industrially made talisman paper, if there's a really good one, it'll be enough to get by.

Besides, I'm hungry, so I should think about what to eat when I go down to the city center.

But if we go to the downtown area, Lao Bai will have to suffer again.

However, it is a corpse and has no human rights.

Ang Lee directly ripped off the blood-stained shirt from Lao Bai's body, then crawled back into the tent, took out the tattered clothes inside, and tore them into several strips.

Then he wrapped the strips of cloth around Old White's body, covering his bluish-purple skin.

Old Bai was wearing a wrinkled short-sleeved work uniform underneath, which wasn't stained with much blood, so Ang Lee only needed to cover the exposed skin that would be recognized as a corpse with a cloth.

During the process of wrapping the cloth, Lao Bai remained very quiet, watching Li An and cooperating with his movements.

Before long, a layer of dirty strips of cloth covered its skin, making it look like a mummy.

Then Ang Lee tore off the tent's securing ropes and covered Old White with the tent fabric, tying him up like a real "zongzi" (rice dumpling).

The dark green tent fabric covered the outfit from head to waist, leaving only a small gap at eye level on the upper body.

Finally, he pulled out the deodorizing spray he'd gotten from Nigel and sprayed it all over Old White from head to toe.

The deodorant smells wonderful; it's a pleasant aroma of wormwood mixed with sandalwood.

Ang Lee clapped his hands, and the mission was accomplished.

However, before Ang Lee could be happy for long, the damp night wind of New York blew in, carrying the scent of wormwood mixed with sandalwood from the deodorant, along with the stench of a corpse, into his nose.

"Ugh." Li An pinched his nose. "Why does it feel even more disgusting?"