You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Chapter 91 Buying Horse Bones with a Thousand Pieces of Gold

"That works now."

Leon completely ignored Alex's expression, reached out and tapped the blue microphone button on the screen, then gestured with his chin towards the bewildered old Bill: "Come on, Bill, continue."

"Repeat what you just said about gyroscopes and algorithms. Slow down and enunciate clearly."

Although Old Bill had no idea what the two were up to, he had no choice but to comply since it was the interviewer's request.

"Ahem—okay."

"As I just said—"

As old Bill repeated his theory, a long text of Chinese text scrolled across the phone screen on the coffee table.

The machine translation software's grammar is utter nonsense, and it's riddled with technical abbreviations that haven't been translated.

Alex rubbed his throbbing temples, stared at the screen for a long time, and finally sighed, looking at old Bill who was anxiously awaiting his verdict.

"Alright."

"I think I understand. You're a talent, old Bill."

"Although I don't know what you're talking about, I'm deeply shocked."

He turned to look at Lyon, his expression complex: "Brother, this thing is too professional. I'm just a blogger who handles corpses and rants, not a military expert."

Whether this thing is worth the price, and whether it's worth the risk of bringing people back to China, is not up to me.

"Okay, send me a copy of this thing."

Alex pointed to the translation history on his phone screen: "I'll try to contact them over there—well, the channels—and send this over for them to evaluate."

At this point, Alex paused, as if he felt it necessary to dampen Leon's spirits and prevent him from being too disappointed: "However, let me make this clear from the start."

Don't have too high expectations.

"After all, he's a homeless man, and he's been away from that so-called Thor's Lab for some time now."

"Technology evolves very quickly; who knows if what he's thinking is outdated?"

"Moreover, the process for accepting such special talents over there is very complicated, involving review, background checks, and even considering whether it is a bait deliberately placed here by us."

"So, it's really hard to say whether it will work out or not."

"bite."

Leon completely ignored his concerns, tapped his finger, and sent the file directly.

"Sent, please check your inbox."

He put away his phone, leaned back on the sofa, and gave an enigmatic smile: "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

Lyon remained outwardly calm, but he knew better than anyone else what was going on.

If we only consider Bill Gates as a person, there might indeed be issues with his technology being outdated or his value not being high enough.

But the focus of this matter has never been solely on old Bill.

The key is the signals you send out.

He believed that the people over there were much smarter than those on his side and would definitely understand the value behind it.

Even if Bill Gates' algorithms are considered only a decent supplement by domestic experts, they would still bring him back.

The saying goes, "A thousand pieces of gold to buy a horse's bones."

This means more that the Lyon connection has been officially established.

In the future, more and more old Bills, and even higher-level technology and intelligence, will flow to the East through this line.

This is the true pledge of allegiance.

Therefore, Lyon was not worried at all that they would be rejected.

"Alright, it's settled then."

Lyon stood up, clapped his hands, and ended this bizarre late-night conspiracy.

"Go back and contact your person. Let me know if you hear anything."

"Old Bill, you can stay here tonight."

Leon pointed to the sofa in the living room: "It's a bit worn out, but it's better than sleeping on the street. Oh, and remember to take a shower; I'll find you some new clothes."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Old Bill's hands were trembling with excitement. For a homeless man, having a roof over his head to shelter him from the wind and rain, and a place to clean himself, was already paradise.

Alex put his hood back on, opened the door, and left.

The rain finally stopped the next morning.

Leon was awakened by the buzzing of his cell phone next to his pillow.

He squinted and habitually reached for his waist, only to find it empty before realizing he was in his apartment, not in the patrol car.

I picked up my phone, and several messages from Raymond Garcia were flashing on the screen.

Although this chubby police inspector complained incessantly, his efficiency in handling matters truly lived up to Sterling's trust.

Lyon didn't mention asking him to help him find a rifle for the assessment the day before yesterday, but Raymond took the initiative to pave the way for him.

Raymond: [Team Leader Vance, I've submitted an internal recommendation letter for you to the Washington State Police Training Commission (CJTC).]

Raymond: [Given that you're now a superstar in Seattle, the manager there will be happy to give you preferential treatment and allow you to cut in line.]

Raymond: [However, there's a condition. To prevent other officers waiting in line for their assessments, especially SWAT reservists, from becoming agitated, the procedure can't be completely waived. You need to show up at the scene.]

Raymond: [The good news is, you can skip those dozens of hours of tedious theory classes and the written exam on firearms principles. The bad news is, you must directly participate in and pass the advanced live-fire shooting test, and it must be under the supervision of an instructor.]

Raymond: [I know you're busy, but this is the bottom line. If you're okay with it, you can come over at 2 PM today.]

Lyon stared at the message, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

Lyon: [Send me the address, I'll be there on time this afternoon.]

Lyon: [Thanks, Raymond. I'll treat you to goji berry tea later.]

This is what they mean by having someone in high places making things easier.

Under normal circumstances, if an ordinary patrol officer wants to apply for this special qualification, he/she must first submit a report, wait for approval, then queue up to attend a week of tedious theoretical classes, and finally get to practice shooting.

Although he possesses the system's skill enhancements and is a sharpshooter skilled in actual combat, if you were to actually ask him to sit in a classroom and memorize those damn ballistic coefficient formulas and wind drift calculation theories, he would most likely fall asleep or simply hand in a blank paper.

Being able to take the exam with a gun would be perfect.

After dealing with Raymond's message, Leon got out of bed, dressed, and opened the bedroom door.

In the living room, the homeless man who was scrambling for takeout in the hallway last night was now sitting on the sofa.

He has taken a shower.

His tangled hair was washed clean, and his beard was shaved off with Leon's spare razor, revealing a rather refined-looking, well-defined white face.

He was wearing a spare tracksuit that Lyon had found for him.

Because Leon is the kind of extremely broad, muscular man, while this former engineer is as thin as a bamboo pole due to long-term malnutrition, the clothes look a bit loose on him, but at least they make him look like a normal human being.

Hearing the door open, he immediately stood up, looking somewhat flustered.