I searched and fought in America.

Not long after, Morris knocked on the door of Rosen's study.

"Holy Father, I have found the information you requested."

Rosen put down the documents in his hand and looked up:

"So fast?"

Morris nodded and handed over a slip of paper. Rosen took the slip and glanced at the address on it.

Then he stood up:

"Let's go see him."

Morris paused for a moment:

"Father, should I go and invite him over? You should go yourself..."

Rosen shook his head:

"I'll go myself."

He paused, then looked out the window:

"These kinds of capable people are often a bit arrogant. Besides, this is a big deal, so going to invite them in person shows sincerity."

Morris hesitated for a moment, then nodded:

"Okay, I'll go prepare the car."

Twenty minutes later.

The car stopped in front of a row of dilapidated bungalows.

The houses here are more dilapidated than those in the heart of the Ronnie neighborhood, with peeling paint and duct tape covering the windows.

Rosen got out of the car, glanced at the address in his hand, and walked to one of the doors.

He knocked on the door.

There was a rustling sound coming from inside, like something had been knocked over, followed by the patter of slippers on the floor.

The door opened.

A man stood in the doorway.

He looked to be in his early forties, but according to intelligence, the other party was only 28 years old. His hair was messy, his beard was unkempt, and he exuded a decadent aura.

Just then, a notification sound suddenly rang in Rosen's mind.

【Ding! 】

[Bronze-tier hero detected: Zilean]

[After taming, you can view its detailed attributes and receive special rewards.]

Rosen's pupils contracted slightly.

Upon receiving this news, Rosen knew he had struck gold.

Those who can be rated as heroes are not ordinary people.

He has also been studying the new rule added to the system recently, which states that the minimum requirement to become a hero-level character is a three-star talent.

In layman's terms, a three-star talent is a talent of a province! They are definitely a core figure in an organization.

Speaking of this, he couldn't help but think of his three apostles from the Iron Claw Gang. He had already taken the time to check their attributes. Wang Ling, Caesar, and Cade were all top-tier three-star talents, not to mention Morris, who was a four-star talent, a national treasure.

Add to that Reverend Meyer and Sheriff Michael, and thinking about it this way, the talent pool of his Iron Claw gang has actually reached an extremely exaggerated level.

Perhaps he truly has some kind of destiny that allows him to encounter so many talented people, and the Iron Claw is something he is willing to call the strongest purple item.

Four heroes in one gang, that's incredible.

And now, he can just pick any down-on-his-luck photographer and they're considered a hero?

Countless thoughts flashed through Rosen's mind, but his face remained unchanged. He simply looked at the dejected man in front of him and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

This trip was worthwhile.

The man was also sizing him up.

After looking at it for a few seconds, he suddenly paused, then spoke somewhat uncertainly:

"You are... Father Rosen?"

Rosen nodded:

"Hello, my name is Rosen."

The man's eyes lit up instantly.

"Father Rosen! It really is you!"

His voice quickly moved aside:

"Please come in! Please come in!"

Rosen didn't stand on ceremony and stepped inside.

The room doesn't smell very good.

The smells of alcohol, sweat, and an indescribable musty odor mingled together. Crumpled pieces of paper were scattered all over the ground, and empty bottles lay overturned.

Kieran's face flushed slightly, and he hurriedly and clumsily began to tidy up:

"I'm so sorry, it's all so chaotic, I didn't know you would come..."

He quickly moved the clutter off the chair, wiped it vigorously with his sleeve, and then pulled it over and placed it in front of Rosen:

"Please sit down, please sit down."

Rosen glanced at the chair, and without hesitation, sat down.

Kieran visibly relaxed when he saw him sit down.

He turned and walked to the corner, rummaged through the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine. The bottle looked quite old, with a thin layer of dust on it.

He wiped them with his sleeve, then found two relatively clean glasses, poured wine into them, and brought them over.

"Father, this is something I've treasured for a long time, and I've never been willing to drink it. Please have a taste."

Rosen took the glass of wine without refusing and took a sip.

The wine is good.

Kieran sat down opposite him, rubbing his hands together awkwardly.

After a few seconds of silence, he spoke:

"Holy Father, actually... I've always wanted to find an opportunity to talk to you."

Rosen raised an eyebrow:

"Oh?"

Kieran took a deep breath, as if organizing his thoughts:

"I've lived in this area for three years, and I've known about the Iron Claw Gang for a long time."

He paused:

"To be honest, in my mind, the Iron Claws don't seem like a gang."

Rosen didn't speak, he just listened quietly.

Kieran continued:

"Do you know how big the difference is between Ronnie's neighborhood and the neighboring neighborhoods?"

He gestured with his hand, indicating the name:

"In the nearby Gunpoint neighborhood, you can hear gunshots every night. Drugs are everywhere, addicts roam the streets, and gangs collect protection money, sometimes thousands of dollars a month. If you don't pay, they smash up shops and beat people. You can see corpses on the streets at any time, and the police don't care at all."

He withdrew his hand and looked out the window:

"But here, in Ronnie Community, it's different. There are no gunfights, no drug trafficking."

In Houston, only those good neighborhoods with monthly rents of $1,500 or $2,000 can offer these two points.

He turned his head and looked at Rosen:

"The Iron Claw gang collects protection money of five hundred US dollars per person per month. With that little money, do you know how envious the people in the next community are of us when we move to a safer place?"

Rosen remained silent for a few seconds.

He actually knew these things, but hearing them from an outsider felt different.

Kieran continued:

"So when I heard that the Iron Claw Gang had a new Holy Father a while ago, I was actually a little worried."

He gave a wry smile:

"I'm afraid the new 'Holy Father' will turn the Iron Claw Gang into a real criminal organization, dealing drugs, exorbitant protection money, and oppressing the people in the community..."

He paused:

"Later I inquired and learned that the new Holy Father was named Rosen, but that was all."

He looked up at Rosen, his gaze becoming somewhat complicated:

"I saw you on the news just a few days ago."

Rosen looked at him.

"A sewer explosion—they saved over a dozen people. One person rushed in to rescue people in that kind of place..."

He took a deep breath:

"At that time, I thought that someone who could do such a thing wouldn't lead the Iron Claw Gang astray."

Rosen put down his glass and looked at him:

"So you are...?"

Kieran looked at Rosen, his expression becoming excited:

"So, I want to tell you that I'm still alive because of the Iron Claw Gang. I'll do whatever you ask of me."