Dragon Clan: Starting with the Azure Dragon Fruit

He draped the rag over his shoulder and lowered his voice.

"If you're here hoping for the American Dream, I advise you to give up on that idea as soon as possible. This place is really not a place for humans to live."

These words, spoken by him, carried a sense of world-weariness beyond his years.

Lin Yuan became interested and asked, "What do you mean?"

The waiter sighed, "Back home, my family bragged that America was full of gold, that you could just bend down and pick it up. But after coming here, I realized it's not that easy."

He started to pour out his troubles to the two of them, as if he had opened a floodgate.

He came here three years ago and now works three jobs at the same time.

In the morning, I work as a waiter and wash dishes at this restaurant. In the afternoon, when the restaurant is less busy, I go to a garment factory on the back street to pick up goods. In the evening, I go back to the restaurant to continue working, and at night I also have to clean office buildings.

Sleeping only four or five hours a day is common, and most of the money he earns goes to paying off the debts he incurred from smuggling himself into the country years ago.

"The most crucial thing is that I don't have a proper identity," he said helplessly, rubbing his hands together.

“People like me are undocumented here, unable to see the light of day. I don’t dare go to the hospital when I’m sick, because I can’t afford medical care without health insurance. When I’m really uncomfortable, I can only take painkillers to cope.”

“I don’t dare to leave Chinatown on weekdays.” He glanced at the bright sunlight outside the door.

"Once we leave here, if we run into immigration officers, they'll arrest us without hesitation."

At this point, he seemed to realize that he had disturbed the guests, and forced a smile, with a hint of resignation and indifference.

He gave a greeting, then turned and went back to his work.

Lin Yuan looked away, picked up another piece of raw garlic, and stuffed it into his mouth along with the cloyingly sweet General Tso's Chicken, trying to use the spiciness to forcibly cover the syrup on his tongue.

Before he could swallow it all, a piercing police siren suddenly blared in his ears.

Lin Yuan and Chu Zihang simultaneously stopped eating and turned to look out through the greasy glass window.

A patrol car painted with the blue and white logo of the Chicago Police Department is driving from the street corner.

The old main street in the middle of Chinatown is already narrow, and the signs on both sides are densely packed and lean towards the center of the road.

The police car couldn't drive fast, so it could only honk its horn briefly as it slowly squeezed past the Chinese restaurant.

The waiter, who was clearing dishes at the next table, noticed that the two of them had stopped eating and were staring intently at the police lights outside the window. He straightened up, wiped his towel on his apron, and sighed, continuing the conversation: "You two just came from China, so you may not be used to it yet. In America, police response is commonplace."

"However, it has been a bit frequent in the last two weeks; this is the third time already."

The other diners in the restaurant didn't even look up, continuing to eat and drink as if it were just an ordinary car horn.

Chu Zihang pulled out a napkin and wiped his mouth.

She turned her gaze away from the window and onto the two plates of signature dishes on the table, completely coated in syrup, then glanced at Lin Yuan's furrowed brows.

He wasn't particularly fond of food, but after taking a bite just now, he realized he had underestimated the destructive power of the modified Chinese food from overseas.

Chu Zihang folded the tissues neatly and placed them on the table, then calmly suggested, "How about we eat somewhere else this time? There's a hot pot restaurant at the street corner ahead. The way they cook hot pot is relatively fixed, so it shouldn't be too hard to swallow."

Lin Yuan raised an eyebrow, sensing another layer of meaning in those words.

Just now, I was chewing on this plate of General Tso's Chicken, which was so salty it could kill me, for ages, and Chu Zihang didn't even suggest changing the location.

But then, he suddenly suggested going out for hot pot.

It was obvious that he was also a bit curious about this matter and wanted to use the excuse of changing places to eat to investigate it.

Chapter 31 Red Hair

Since Chu Zihang took the initiative, Lin Yuan was naturally more than happy to do so.

Chinatown, missing persons, and perfunctory police force.

When these elements are put together, they are very likely to be associated with supernatural forces.

In Lin Yuan's logic, anything related to supernatural power is equivalent to an out-of-control hybrid, which is the nourishment for the Azure Dragon Fruit.

There's no reason to let go of prey that comes to you willingly.

The two exchanged a glance and both understood each other's thoughts.

"Sure, I'll go with whatever you say." Lin Yuan grinned, grabbed a tissue and wiped his mouth haphazardly, his eyes full of anticipation.

The two paid their bill at the front desk and returned to the sweltering street.

Lin Yuan glanced around, his gaze intentionally or unintentionally drifting toward the fork in the road where the police car had disappeared.

"I just ate a lot of sweets, and I feel a bit full." Lin Yuan casually pointed to the dimly lit old alley.

"How about we go around to the back to digest our food, and then go eat hot pot?"

Chu Zihang caught a glimpse of his eager posture and naturally understood what this so-called "digestion" was all about.

He straightened his jacket collar and reminded him, "This is Chicago, don't make too much noise."

"Don't worry, I won't do anything reckless," Lin Yuan assured him.

With Lin Yuan's assurance, the two turned off the main street and plunged into the back alley nestled between old warehouses and residential buildings.

The hustle and bustle of the city outside was instantly blocked behind the thick red brick wall.

The further in you go, the more difficult the road becomes. The uneven cement ground is covered with puddles of sticky, oily water that are very slippery when you step on them.

Clotheslines hung haphazardly overhead, and half-dry sheets hung in mid-air, blocking out most of the already limited sunlight.

Several open garbage cans were haphazardly piled up at the base of the wall.

The stuffy, windless alleyway made the already unpleasant smell even more nauseating; every breath felt like eating a devil's fruit.

Lin Yuan frowned and reached out to push aside a piece of old bed sheet that was blocking his view.

A commotion gradually came from ahead.

After walking a few dozen meters more, I turned a corner and the view opened up a bit more.

About ten steps ahead, the patrol car that had caught their attention was parked diagonally to the side. Its headlights shone brightly into the dirty puddle, illuminating several tattered rags soaked with dark red blood.

Following the edge of the tattered cloth, one could barely make out what appeared to be a corpse.

These Chicago police officers were extremely lax in their approach, completely skipping the tedious on-site protection procedures.

They didn't even bother to put up the most basic yellow warning tape, leaving the crime scene exposed to the public without any cover, while onlookers stood in twos and threes nearby, examining the scene.

For them, the murder of an undocumented immigrant in Chinatown was clearly not worth their time; the scene practically screamed "perfunctory."

The overweight policeman held up his camera, casually pressed the shutter twice on the corpse on the ground, and that was it—he had completed the evidence collection process.

Then two other officers wearing rubber gloves immediately took out black waterproof body bags and roughly scooped the body on the ground into them, intending to move it to the trunk.

The surrounding crowd was very quiet. Occasionally, someone would mutter half a sentence in their local dialect, but their companion would tug at their clothes and stop them with a stern look.

The young patrolman in charge of taking statements leaned against the red brick wall, chewing gum and absentmindedly scribbling in his notebook with a ballpoint pen.

Seeing that his companion had already zipped up the body bag, he snapped his notebook shut, stretched, and turned to finish his work.

As he walked back to the patrol car, his leather boots stepped on an empty aluminum beer can.

"Click".

The crisp sound of the aluminum sheet denting was particularly jarring in the alley.

The young patrolman tripped and looked somewhat annoyed, then kicked forward with his toe.

The deflated aluminum can clattered all the way down the slope, finally stopping in front of a pair of clean leather shoes.

Chu Zihang lowered his eyes and glanced at the trash at his feet.

The young patrolman spat out the chewing gum residue in his mouth, his gaze casually following the rolling aluminum can as it passed by.

When they saw the two unfamiliar Asian faces standing there, their eyes revealed an undisguised contempt, typical of lower-level American police officers.

He was just about to say something when a muffled thud behind him interrupted him.

Two other officers were pulling and dragging the black body bag into the trunk of the patrol car.

The body bag wasn't pulled tight at the end, and with the rough tugging, a few drops of blood seeped out and dripped into the cracks between the bricks.

"Hey! Hurry up, this place already stinks enough!" The young patrolman frowned, turned around and cursed impatiently at his colleague.

Now that he had finished his work, he was too lazy to waste any more words with the two Asians at the alley entrance. He pulled out the black rubber baton from his waist and swung it heavily at the rusty trash can by the wall.

"boom!"

"Scatter! Scatter all of you! There's nothing to see here!" he shouted impatiently, waving his baton casually in the air as if he were shooing away stray dogs.

The crowd that had been craning their necks to look around seemed to have been whipped by the loud noise.

In the blink of an eye, the crowd that had gathered there had completely dispersed.

Seeing that most of the people had dispersed, he tucked his baton into his belt, opened the passenger door, and climbed inside.

With a deep roar of its engine, the patrol car drove away.

The bustling alleyway became empty, leaving only the lingering smell of blood in the air.

Lin Yuan and Chu Zihang waited in place for a moment, then exchanged a glance.

"Did you notice anything?" Lin Yuan pointed to the dark red stain on the ground with the tip of his shoe and asked casually.

Chu Zihang surveyed his surroundings with a cold gaze, recalling the scene from just now: "Judging from the mutilated shape of the corpse, it doesn't seem like it was done by a human."

"Great minds think alike." Lin Yuan grinned and nodded in full agreement.

He then ignored the muddy ground and squatted down right where the body had been lying.

The bloodstains remaining in the cracks of the floor tiles were whitish from being soaked in the water, and emitted a faint smell of blood.

Just as Lin Yuan was about to take a closer look, his "Observation Haki" suddenly rippled slightly.

It felt so familiar; someone was lurking in the shadows, watching him.

Lin Yuan stood up without making a sound, and following the direction of his Observation Haki, turned his gaze to the opposite corner of the street.

A flash of dark red hair streaked across the fire escape on the second floor opposite.

She moved with the agility of a wildcat, disappearing into the iron door behind the fire escape before he could even see her clearly.

Except for the slight trembling of the fire escape's edge, it was as if nothing had just happened.

Lin Yuan squinted and stared at the empty space for a while.

"What's wrong?" Chu Zihang noticed that his expression was off.

"It's nothing." Lin Yuan looked away and smiled lazily.

"It just turns out that we're not the only ones curious about this."

Chapter 32 Eliminating Harm for the People

Upon hearing this, Chu Zihang followed Lin Yuan's gaze but saw nothing.

But he would never take it as a silly joke from the other party. He immediately took a half step back, his calf muscles tensed, and he subconsciously went into a state of alert.

"who?"

"I don't know, they were quite agile, I didn't see them clearly either." Lin Yuan didn't pay much attention, he hadn't sensed the other party's killing intent just now.

Chu Zihang gave Lin Yuan a deep look before slowly relaxing his tense muscles.

This wasn't the first time he'd witnessed such outrageous insight from the other party. Last time at the abandoned factory, Miranda hadn't even touched the factory gate before Lin Yuan spotted her from a great distance.

This extraordinary sensitivity is clearly not just an enhancement brought about by dragon blood.

However, Chu Zihang did not ask any further questions.

He was a very sensible person. After all, he also had his own memories of the rainy night that he couldn't show to others, so it was normal for Lin Yuan to have his own secrets.

He won't overstep his bounds and inquire unless the other party offers an explanation.

The two of them, one on the left and one on the right, carefully searched along the trail of blood.

Chu Zihang squatted against the wall, staring at the messy scratches on the red bricks, his brows furrowing slightly.

The scene was a complete mess, trampled by those Chicago patrol officers. Several large, muddy boot prints were scattered haphazardly over the original traces, completely destroying the already scarce footprint clues.

Apart from the few very noticeable scratch marks, nothing of value could be found at the scene.

On the other side, Lin Yuan took out his phone from his pocket and randomly selected several angles to take pictures of the marks on the ground and the scratches on the wall.