I'm building Gundams in America

Your Tactical Dagger skill has been improved (Specialization 1%), +1 experience point.

Hearing Wayne recite the Bible passage, the black homeless man lying on the ground, his face covered in blood, stared at Wayne with shock in his eyes and said in a trembling voice:

"You...you're a Christian? He's lying to me? Old Joe is lying to me?"

It's that old Joe again, the one with the bottle? Wayne's eyes narrowed, and a murderous intent surged within him.

We must find this person.

In just one day, two homeless men, incited and persuaded by others, came to kill him.

This has become a fight to the death.

His expression was calm. He sighed, like a father disappointed in his child, and asked in a low voice:

"Who is Bottle Joe? Why does he want to kill me?"

The Black homeless man looked terrified, his bloodshot eyes filled with fear, and he muttered:

"No...he lied to me...I laid a hand on a Christian...he lied to me..."

His nose was broken, and blood kept flowing out, but he had a look of excitement and fear on his face, clearly indicating that he had taken too much of the enhancer.

"I attacked a saint... I attacked a saint... God no longer favors me... Oh God... What have I done... Don't come any closer, devil, don't come any closer!"

As they spoke, the black homeless man scrambled to his feet in terror, turned and ran away as if some demon were lurking around him.

He inhaled too much and became delusional.

"Stop!" Mike and David shouted, and were about to give chase.

There was a loud bang, followed by a screeching sound of brakes. A homeless man who was crossing the road was hit by a pickup truck and thrown into the air, rolling to the ground and dying.

A burly white man got out of his car, looked at the homeless man rolling on the ground in front of him, cursed "Fuck," and then took out his phone to call the insurance company.

Wayne stepped forward and touched the homeless man's shoulder, and a line of words flashed before his eyes:

You have acquired the skill: Violin Playing (Intermediate)

died.

This black man can play the violin, which means he must have been a well-off middle-class family before. Unfortunately, he couldn't escape the three-part cycle of unemployment, drug addiction, homelessness, and murder.

The other party's situation is somewhat similar to Edward's when he shot Wayne. Both of them had used too much of the enhancement drug and were in a dazed and crazy state. Then, under the influence of that old Joe with the wine bottle, they came to attack Wayne.

Wayne felt a chill run down his spine, realizing that he had been completely targeted by a hidden enemy.

It's not safe to stay on the streets for now.

"My God, I knew Mr. Saint was definitely a Christian..."

"No, it's all God's arrangement. Even if he's a voodoo medium, he's acting on God's will..."

"Disrespect for saints will immediately incur God's punishment..."

"He was giving a final prayer for that murderer... What a noble character..."

Behind Wayne and the others, a group of homeless people muttered to themselves.

At this moment, all of Wayne's actions took on a sacred meaning in the eyes of some homeless people.

Even picking up skills was seen as a way to pray for the dead.

【Occupation: Witch Doctor (Level 2)】

Titles: Royal Rebel (Greater chance to gain favor from dungeon streets); Voodoo Medium (85% effective against Voodoo followers); Saint (6% chance of obtaining a gold title)

Physical strength: 1.3/1.3

Intelligence: 1.2/1.3

Mental Power: 0.9/1.6

HP: 99/160

Experience points: 46/100

技能：吟游表演（中级20%）；他乡故知（被动60%）；战术匕首使用（专精1%）；化合物製作（初级70%）；基础巫医（专精7％）；大豆种植（中级）；小提琴演奏（中级）

Battle Pet: Wilderness Hound (Level 1, 50%)

Status: Minor injury not yet healed

Looking at the panel values ​​in front of him, Wayne did not hesitate to put the Soybean Planting (Intermediate) and Violin Playing (Intermediate) skills into the Sacrifice Card Slot, instantly sacrificing them to the Bard Performance skill.

Immediately, his bard performance skill level increased to (Advanced 20%).

Since one has chosen the path of a charlatan, improving one's performance skills is essential.

Unfortunately, I've never developed public speaking skills, which is actually the most relevant skill.

Little Beard, who once wrote "Mein Kampf," was an absolute genius of oratory and persuasion.

In addition, there is Charlie Kirk, a native American speech master, who is also a master of public speaking.

It's a pity I wasn't there when Charlie Kirk died, otherwise I would have squeezed in to touch him.

"Hey bro, it's not safe out there right now. I think we'd better head back..." Mike looked up at the group of homeless people who had gathered around and whispered to Wayne.

What happened today is really too bizarre. There are indeed quite a few drug-addicted lunatics among the homeless, and some of them are very aggressive, but to encounter two murders targeting Wayne in one day seems too abnormal.

Even a fool could see that someone was targeting Wayne behind this.

Wayne nodded, and the three of them immediately got up and headed towards Chinatown.

Most of the dozen or so homeless people behind them dispersed, while a few hesitated for a moment before following Wayne and the others from a distance.

Encountering a saint who appears in broad daylight on this cold street makes their already sensitive and fragile nerves and not-so-bright minds instinctively want to stick close to him.

As for what they were supposed to do with the other party, they had no idea.

It was just an instinctive urge to grasp at this lifeline.

Whether from a physiological or mental perspective.

"Brother, believe me, this must be a conspiracy by the pharmaceutical consortium! Remember the whistleblower who reported Pfizer for fraud? Just three months later, he 'committed suicide' at home."

"I still remember the police spokesperson's tone: 'The forensic examination determined it to be suicide,' 'No evidence of homicide was found.' Tsk tsk, and that guy who shot himself eight times in the back..."

As they walked, David kept looking around the street and quickly spoke to Wayne in a low voice.

"Brother, believe me, you can't keep treating patients. We need to find another way to make money. I don't want to see news reports of you committing suicide in your tent..."

"You know, I've been doing day-jobs lately, the kind of work where I go to marches against Trump, remember? I met a guy in the crowd who used to be an FBI agent. His whole team offended Trump and got fired. He told me a lot about the deep state..."

Along the way, David kept trying to persuade Wayne that they must change careers, as they had likely angered the pharmaceutical consortium, and even if they didn't change careers, they should at least lay low for a while.

As for the money, we can think of other solutions first.

As they were talking, they had already returned to the street where they had originally set up camp.

What came into view was a scene of chaos.

Several police cars were parked on the street, along with some workers in construction uniforms and a water truck, dismantling the cluster of tents where they had set up camp.

Several homeless people were confronting the construction workers when police pointed guns at their heads and forced them to the ground.

"FUCK!" Mike cursed and ran over with Wayne and David.

The water truck was spraying water continuously, and several tents were overturned wherever it passed.

Their tents are about to be cleared out.

Mike rushed into his tent, helped his uncle Raymond out, and quickly packed his belongings.

David waved his arms and shouted at a policeman:

"Why? What right do you have to kick us out?! This is racial discrimination!"

Wayne stopped the impulsive David and asked the police:

"Sir, can you tell us why? We've lived here for a long time, why are you suddenly starting to clear it out? You know it's winter, losing our tents will kill us."

Wayne's voice was gentle, but his gaze was firm. Coupled with his appearance, so different from that of an ordinary homeless person, this made the initially impatient police officer patiently explain:

"The area you are stationed in is private land, which is illegal. In addition, someone reported that a murder occurred here, affecting the safety of the surrounding residents. We have been ordered to clear this street."

As he spoke, the policeman shrugged and spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

Wayne narrowed his eyes, realizing that this was likely aimed at him again.

Instead of arguing with the other party, he quickly packed up his belongings in his tent and folded the makeshift tent up.

Mike and David glared at the police, but stopped struggling to stop them.

Having lived on the streets for so many years, they are used to being chased away.

Even if they live in a park, park managers will deliberately sprinkle water on the flowers and wet the ground to make it impossible for them to stay.

This time it's not so bad.

"Brother, let's go to the next block. I know a place where we can pitch a tent," Mike whispered to Wayne.

Wayne nodded. If all else failed, they could simply go to a hotel and stay for the night.

Just then, an elderly Black homeless man suddenly walked up to Wayne and said:

"Sir, I've been looking for you. It's me, old Will. You're finally back... If you have nowhere to go tonight, you can come with me. I live in the sewers. It's warm and spacious inside. I assure you, it's much better than sleeping on the streets."

Wayne looked at the other person and saw a line of text flash above their head:

Loyalty: A life-saving favor

This is old Will, whose illness was cured and whose life was saved by him today.

Then Old Will lowered his voice and said:

"Also, that 'Old Joe the Bottle' you're looking for, I heard he lives in the sewers..."

Wayne narrowed his eyes and made a decision instantly.

Just then, he felt a cool sensation on the tip of his nose.

Wayne looked up and saw tiny, sparkling snowflakes falling from the sky.

Snowing.