American variety show world begins with subduing Jason

Inside a clean room laid out like a bar, an old alchemist wearing crystal glasses casts an endlessly disdainful glance.

The young couple had been flirting there since the beginning, which infuriated the old man who had dedicated his life to the great art of alchemy.

Damn it! Did I accidentally take some kind of magic potion today? Why do I feel like my whole body is glowing?

"Take your things, don't bother coming back!" He waved his hand menacingly, as if shooing away some unwelcome mosquito.

Having initially resolved the crisis and averted a terrible fate, Zhu Mingyao was in high spirits. He took the long box containing the rapier and turned to leave.

Just as he was about to reach the door, he suddenly heard a whooshing sound behind him and something was thrown at him.

"Hey, wait, I almost forgot!" The old man sat down behind the counter, annoyed.

"There was also a witchcraft tool hidden in the hilt of this rapier, which I took out after repairing it."

Young people these days really don't understand social situations, unlike us from that generation..."

He rambled on, trying to evoke in the young people present a longing for the conservative and simple social atmosphere of the past.

However, the other party's attention was not on this at all; they were only looking at their hands with great astonishment.

Light gray cast iron and white oak form a spell with sealing connotations. In a small box the size of a palm, a round object gleams with a hazy golden light under the lamp, and a dark golden skull on it grins with its teeth bared.

Chapter 508 The Last Domino

As the year drew to a close in the last month, in a secluded ravine in West Virginia, waist-high weeds and thorns grew rampant, protecting a large tract of wild forest and blocking the desires of unauthorized people to spy on it.

Although it disappeared many years ago, the water flow still brought enough fertile soil to this dry valley, so the vegetation there is much more lush than it appears from the outside.

The dark humus rises high into mounds, silently and steadfastly supporting the tall white oak trees beneath them.

Traces of rotten wood chips are embedded in the soil, mottled with gray and white specks, making the hill resemble the grave of an unnamed person, while the cracked and pale tree trunks serve as the tombstones.

Perhaps it was this similarity that created the illusion; even though the setting sun had not yet disappeared, a midnight chill had already crossed the twilight and descended upon this land ahead of time.

In the faint chill, a sturdy body, large enough for several people to encircle, stretches upwards, its twisted branches spreading out, like a hunched old man yearning for warm sunlight, standing alone in a narrow clearing in the forest.

Although it, like its peers, has a bare crown, the few scattered yellow leaves at its feet suggest that the old tree's health was already precarious long before winter arrived.

A faint crackling sound, like macaroni breaking, came from afar; it was the sound of some creature stepping on dry branches and leaves.

The staff, encased in copper hoops, tapped the ground, supporting his body as he walked forward.

Standing before the half-dead tree, the withered fingers raised, removing the old black silk hat, and the visitor slowly stroked the swollen, lumpy burls that resembled superfluous growths.

The old face with its deep ravines and the withered, gray bark of the tree create a striking contrast, making it difficult to discern which exudes a stronger sense of decay.

"Knight wandering in nightmares, I offer as a sacrifice what you so desperately seek, and I call forth..."

The deep, husky voice restrained the mysterious power from both sides, like an arrow piercing the ground.

In an instant, the old oak tree trembled. Its once languid but still robust body suddenly shrank and dried up, and the few remaining yellow leaves fell sadly to the ground.

The mound silently cracked open, revealing a deep, dark hole several meters in diameter, from which glimmers of phosphorescent green light seeped out, as if connecting directly to the underworld.

Amidst the clatter of horseshoes striking the rocks, a massive black shadow, accompanied by a chilling gust of wind, suddenly burst forth from the cave.

The heavy draft horse, its eyes wide and hollow, sniffed twice. Realizing it had lost all interest in the thick hay, it regretfully turned to one side, revealing its master, whose saddle was covered in a layer of white frost.

The headless knight gripped the reins tightly, and thick, muddy black mist billowed from beneath his rumpled canvas uniform. The weeds and moss that were still barely clinging to life around him instantly turned black and rotted, their remaining vitality snatched away.

Large patches of weathered, old bloodstains clung to the greyish-blue military uniform, but the age could still be vaguely discerned from the blurred metallic patterns beneath the disgusting purplish-brown surface.

—These are high-level undead that have been accumulated over hundreds of years since the independence of the Federation.

The black saber was drawn with a clang!

The killing intent was as sharp as a knife, causing even the body that was no longer alive to feel an illusory pain. However, the old necromancer, who was loyal to an ancient demon god, simply raised his hand in silence and took out the offering he had prepared in advance.

A black sheepskin scroll that slowly begins to burn;

And a man's head, still warm and dripping with blood;

The man's hair and beard stood on end. Even though he was completely dead, his blood vessels and muscles still trembled from time to time, trying to contract and suppress the wounds on their own, showing a strong vitality. He was undoubtedly a superhuman with considerable strength in life.

The skeletal hands cradled the head and gently placed it on the neck. A series of grating, metallic sounds of bones snapping together followed, and the lifeless face gradually came to life, as if it might come back to life at any moment.

Taking advantage of the moment it stood still, the faded black top hat flipped up, instantly generating an irresistible attraction that drew the headless knight inside.

"Director Dark, is this the last one?"

A woman in a business suit emerged from the woods where she had been hiding. Her once beautiful face was now ashen, with fine stitches and broken bones faintly visible. She was being forced to reveal her true nature as a fellow undead by the chilling killing intent and powerful aura.

"To be honest, it's the second to last." The old man named Dak nodded somberly.

"The Sleeper of Headless Valley, an evil entity that slaughtered several towns during the Civil War, is one of the Southern Legion's trump cards, and even in my funeral home's collection, it would easily rank first."

He mockingly tossed aside the parchment scroll that was slowly burning out, watching as the blood-stained, sorcerous flames gradually eroded the text of the contract.

“Those controlled common nobles may be foolish and greedy, but their family heirlooms are indeed quite impressive, which is exactly what we need to use them.”

A cold north wind blew, and even colder words were carried on the wind.

"Don't they yearn for eternal life? The day chosen by the master could not be better. Let their wails become the accompaniment to the birth of the gods, and may they be with the gods forever."

"Go ahead, to accomplish such a great feat, you still need to take down the last domino."

"Is that some kind of powerful sacred object?" The woman stroked the large, shimmering gemstone pendant on her chest with satisfaction; she had recently reaped quite a few benefits from it.

"A sacred relic? It's probably considered a sacred relic for this country..."

The deep wrinkles that could trap a fly ripped open as the necromancer grinned, revealing a strange smile through his nearly toothless mouth.

"That was a document, a very special document..."

……

……

In the early morning in Washington, D.C., the sounds of people gradually fill the air.

On the day of the open house, the doors of a square, Romanesque building were wide open, welcoming throngs of visitors.

The weather wasn't very good today. Large swaths of leaden clouds resembling metallic oxides loomed and piled up in the sky, so dark they looked like they could be squeezed for water, and the air was filled with a damp smell.

It looks like it's going to rain later... Considering the season, it might even snow.

Feeling the chill trying to creep into his collar, Thomas tightened the top button of his trench coat to block out the incoming gusts of cold air.

He took the briefcase from the driver and strode towards the square paved with light-colored marble tiles.

"...This most important and precious artifact in the hall symbolizes the cornerstone of the Federation's establishment..."

The guide stood in front of the huge tempered glass display case, his eyebrows dancing with excitement, pointing to a blurry, yellowed page, his enthusiastic explanation coming out intermittently.

After struggling to squeeze past a group of curious and excited elementary school students, the man glanced at the towering and magnificent building beside him, feeling only boredom and apathy.

"Only these little guys visiting for the first time would find a bunch of moldy documents interesting."

The head of the Federal National Archives and Records Administration shrugged and turned to walk into the annex of the National Archives.

Even though their names are frequent mentions in professional books, the influence of these institutions is actually limited to academic circles.

For most of the federal upper echelons, this place was nothing more than a warehouse for old scraps of paper and outdated records, far less attractive than those important locations, a veritable backwater.

However, since it is a government agency, its welfare budget is still quite generous. Therefore, arriving half an hour early to enjoy a delicious and hearty breakfast is definitely worthwhile.

"Let's try something lighter today: pan-fried veal chops with soft bread, a few slices of artichoke... something tender, half an orange for fruit, and a glass of Burgundy white liqueur. That's all, thank you."

After giving his secretary instructions, Thomas leisurely leaned back in his large, comfortable chair, casually propping his feet up on the corner of his desk, ready to enjoy his meal.

But a moment later, instead of a food cart lined with insulated boxes, he was greeted by an unexpected guest.

"What do they want to take that for?" He looked away from the authorization document and stared at the stranger with a puzzled expression.

"Who knows, sir? Let's get this work done quickly."

The excessively handsome newcomer smiled slightly, his obsidian-like eyes swirling with hidden depths.

"Of course, we're not talking about the photocopies displayed in the lobby, but the real one in the underground vault."

—The Declaration of Independence

Chapter 509 Laying the Bait

Under the cover of night, the lights are dazzling.

In the metropolis that shimmers with endless light, traffic flows ceaselessly and people clamor.

Neon lights flashed on the streets of Manhattan, and fireworks rose from Central Park from time to time, creating a dazzling display of colors that adorned the night sky like a dream, setting the stage for the upcoming holiday.

New York shines like a dazzling jewel, radiating captivating brilliance at all times. People firmly believe that this greatest international city in history, like the country beneath it, will continue its glory and prosperity to the very end of time.

Those who sit at the very top of the pyramid are especially certain—

On the luxurious skyscraper, windows lit up one after another, like stars falling to earth, decorating it like a palace of gods, and there was an invisible, mysterious force protecting it, ensuring that outsiders could not see inside.

The ancient gods have all passed away, while the "gods" of the new era look down upon the masses with an air of superiority.

"The mortality rate in the clinical trials of the company's new drug is still a bit high. Notify the Immigration Bureau to send in some more detained illegal immigrants, preferably under ten years old..."

"Because of the last stock market storm, some ignorant trash wanted to start some kind of Occupy Financial Street march? The underground parking garage on 23rd Street is having its foundation poured, fill it all in!"

Whispering words flowed from lips adorned with polite smiles, and in seemingly ordinary exchanges of information, countless astronomical sums of benefits were quietly exchanged without anyone noticing.

The bright red liquid sways gently in the crystal-clear stemmed glass, the rich aroma of grapes mingling with the cool air, creating a captivating flavor that lingers on the palate.

"Have you...heard the news?"

After a round of toasts, someone asked in a low voice, his face beaming with excitement.

This was like a magnet, instantly attracting the attention of everyone present. The originally relaxed atmosphere suddenly changed, and thoughtful gazes immediately came over, filling the air with a subtle and tense atmosphere.

The questioner paused slightly, seemingly carefully considering each word to ensure it accurately conveyed the mystery and importance.

"It is said that those... esteemed gentlemen have found the wine that symbolizes life..." Even in familiar circles, he remained quite cautious, deliberately using vague phrases.

However, the people present had diverse backgrounds and personalities, and not everyone could maintain such caution.

A hot-blooded young man, unable to contain his excitement, leaned forward abruptly and eagerly pressed for an answer:

"Could it be true? The Holy Grail..."

"Cough cough!"