American variety show world begins with subduing Jason

The sticky, gooey flesh puppet opposite him seemed completely oblivious to his words, standing there blankly for the past few minutes.

The old black sorcerer made the ghost lizard struggle a few more times, but it still couldn't break free from the strange black and red rope, and he couldn't help but feel anxious.

A large group of incredibly strong and fearless deformed monsters suddenly appeared from all around. Combined with the cramped environment of the mine tunnel, it took him and his brother a lot of effort to break through. Now they had reached the exit and were on the verge of escaping.

But old Bob was reluctant to give up the lizard spirit he had spent so long cultivating, which is why he had delayed until now.

Just as he made up his mind to abandon his essence and leave with his brothers, a sinister and slippery voice sounded eerily.

"Stop spouting lies you don't even believe yourself. Those Federation lackeys won't get here until dawn at the earliest. We have plenty of time to get what we want to do..."

In the shadows at the mine entrance, a human figure gradually emerged, blocking the way and exposing old Bob's empty threats.

Chapter 101 Bewitching

"What you do is none of our business! Get out of the way, or you're dead!"

As the Indian shaman Quinn slowly approached, blocking the exit, old Bob raised his hand with a distorted expression. A bracelet made of animal bones, teeth, and various colored stones hanging on his wrist trembled slightly, as if a vicious curse was about to be cast.

At the same time, Bob, who had been silent since the start of the mission, stepped forward in unison to protect his brother. The pale tattoos on his exposed skin spread rapidly, creating an energy field that was barely visible to the naked eye, enveloping the two brothers.

Seemingly unfazed by the Bob brothers' alarmed demeanor, Quinn, shaking his greasy, unruly hair, said in a serious tone:

"No, I didn't misspoke, it's 'we'!"

He twitched the muscles in his face, forcing out a deep, enigmatic smile.

“I sincerely invite you to join me in this great cause, and as brothers and sisters, to bask in the light of the Lord.”

As if echoing his fanatical tone, ferocious wolf heads formed from black smoke emerged from the shadows behind Quinn, their scarlet eyes drooling as they looked at the two opposite them.

"The Voodoo priests (male priests) have only the existence of the Lord in their hearts! You lunatic with a brain full of dog shit, go and rummage through your own dick with the thing you worship!"

Even though he wasn't a very orthodox clergyman, old Bob understood the meaning behind the other person's words immediately and angrily cursed back.

This son of a bitch wasn't satisfied with just messing with us once; now he wants to drag the two brothers into joining some kind of cult?

A string of obscene Black slang terms spewed out of the old voodoo sorcerer's mouth like popping beans, at lightning speed, with a melodious and rhythmic tone, making one marvel at how rapping truly is a racial talent of Black people.

"Don't get agitated, I have no hostility. In fact, we should be natural allies..." Unlike before, Quinn's tone was now calm and rational.

He pointed to their faces and softly uttered a single word:

"color!"

"Everyone knows that this country was founded on our bones and blood. For more than two hundred years, the massacres, insults, and harms against us have never stopped, even to this day..."

It still exists!

The old black man paused in his tirade amidst the resounding words.

"Did you think that becoming a superhuman would free you from this identity?" Quinn said sarcastically, a complex expression on his face, as if he were reminiscing about something.

"On the surface, it may be true, but beneath the surface, it means more rejection, vigilance, and disgust. The Federation will never allow us to go too far on the path of the extraordinary, and they will use all means to suppress and restrict us."

He patiently explained:

“If it were before, I might have been able to barely endure it and silently live out my life, but now, things have changed…”

Quinn's face showed a hint of excitement. "For hundreds of years, the door that has stood in the way of all the extraordinary paths has quietly opened a crack. Under these circumstances, I can no longer endure it."

"Where are you?" he asked in a low voice, like a seductive demon.

Can you continue to endure this?

Old Bob stared blankly at the original target of the operation, his slightly disordered breathing indicating that his inner state was not as calm as his outward appearance suggested.

How could I possibly continue to endure this!

As a Black man who grew up in the slums, he deeply empathized with Quinn's words. Even after becoming a superhuman and serving as an advisor to the Special Investigations Bureau, he could still sense the official, overt and covert, rejection from the authorities.

With enough to eat and wear, one can live a comfortable middle-class life!

Even being a small local bully is fine!

But it's impossible to keep climbing up and seizing power and wealth!

Those figures at the top of the pyramid dislike Black people, and even more so, they dislike a Black voodoo master reeking of corpses!

Let alone him, even the famous Voodoo Matriarch of New Orleans could only stay in a few southern states running a chain of laundromats, living the life of a rural nouveau riche, and her influence had not been able to expand further for decades.

Seeing her old rivals, those sluts from the Witches' Societies, getting on the good side of the wealthy and powerful in the Federation by flirting and behaving, while she could only jump up and down in impotent rage.

This is the natural limitation of skin color and race. Even if the two sides are not far apart in strength, one can wear fine clothes and mingle freely in high-class parties, while the other can only squat in the gang and make a living by taking dirty jobs.

"Money, power, fine wine, beautiful women—I want them all!"

"I want to enjoy all of that openly and honestly, in those bright and luxurious high-society parties on the East Coast, basking in the flattery and awe of celebrities, instead of listening to a bunch of illiterate gangsters drooling in my own secluded cabin!" Old Bob roared inwardly.

But these reasons weren't enough. Although the old black sorcerer was greedy, he wasn't stupid. This guy in front of him had committed such a big crime that he must have been blacklisted by the authorities. It was too dangerous to associate with him.

As if he could read Quinn's mind, Quinn chuckled, and a hint of sincerity appeared on his blood-stained and flesh-covered face.

"Don't worry, there is no such thing as a religious organization. They are just a group of pitiful people who have been insulted and hurt and want to use the grace of 'the Lord' to break the old order."

Don't you want to turn back the clock? I can help you by holding a sacrificial ceremony, and how about using those agents as the sacrifice?

After the ceremony, you and your brother may leave immediately; I will not interfere!

"You want to drag me onto the boat?" old Bob said in a deep voice.

"You're already on this ship of sin!"

"Mr. Bob! You don't think you can get away with what you've done from the official investigators, do you?" Quinn chuckled slyly.

"Since we're going to have to flee anyway, why not grab what we can before we leave? The life force of these dozen or so robust sacrificial offerings can not only make you ten years younger, but also greatly enhance your witchcraft power, just like I did!"

Just a few days ago, I was only a Level 2 transcendent, but now I'm almost at the threshold of Level 3. You can do that too!

Quinn's words added the final weight to the already wavering scales in the old sorcerer's mind.

He struggled internally for a moment, but ultimately nodded almost imperceptibly.

Watching his brother's back as he followed their original destination deeper into the mine, Bob instinctively felt uneasy. The natural spirits residing in his tattoos irritated his skin, causing waves of slight pain—a warning of danger.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but his gaze lingered on old Bob's withered, gray hair and loose, atrophied muscles before dimming.

He silently shut his mouth, took a few steps ahead, and protected his brother behind him.

Just like in the decades before, when his elder brother would protect him from behind...

Not long after the three left, as the moon rose, a beam of moonlight shone obliquely through the half-collapsed frame opening onto the ground where they had just stood.

Suddenly, the beam of moonlight distorted slightly, as if something transparent had passed through it...

Wow, a full 100 pages! Let's commemorate that. I managed to type over 20 words all on my phone...

Chapter 102 It's all the fault of short video marketing accounts

Somewhere in the mine tunnel, the ground was littered with blood and gore. The surrounding mine walls were riddled with bullet holes and charred remains, clearly indicating that a fierce battle had taken place here not long ago.

In the still-wet pool of blood on the ground lay the corpses of several deformed, grotesque people, with several mangled human limbs scattered around them.

A black, omnivorous beetle was crawling beside one of the strange corpses, licking the remaining blood from its mouthparts.

Although by nature Mr. Beetle prefers the taste of fungi and worms to the bodily fluids of such "giant animals," he clearly doesn't have many choices in the desolate mine.

—If we miss this opportunity to eat, who knows when the next chance will be?

Just as it was feasting and diligently absorbing the precious water and nutrients, it suddenly felt a violent tremor beneath its feet. The "giant creature," which should have been dead, suddenly started moving again!

Its survival instinct, passed down through millions of years, transformed it into a rapidly moving black dot, instantly disappearing into the crevice of the rock.

If the beetle possessed human intelligence, it would be able to see right now that in the mine, there seems to be an invisible ghostly hand turning over the "mountain of flesh" beneath its feet.

"It's so ugly, it looks like it's been exposed to nuclear radiation..."

While maintaining the [Six Earth Concealing Form Technique] to conceal his form, Zhu Mingyao used his peach wood cane to poke at the corpse in front of him, examining it carefully.

In the battle at the temporary command post, he also killed several of these deformed monsters and earned some reward points.

Judging from the number of rewards, these guys may not be very strong, but they have done a lot of killings.

Now, Zhu Mingyao has basically figured out the standard for the number of reward points the system issues after he kills monsters.

First and foremost, it depends on the strength of the monster, without a doubt.

Secondly, we need to look at the amount of "cause and effect" on the monster. For example, among all the enemies he killed, the one who ranked among the top in terms of rewards was the murderer Jacob. This does not mean that this ordinary person is stronger than a group of ghosts and vengeful spirits, but that he has far more cause and effect than the latter!

Regardless of the theories of Taoism or Buddhism, killing the innocent is considered the most heinous evil.

A corresponding example is the vengeful spirit of the old Gypsy woman, Lady Ganos. Even though she was a supernatural being, she was killed by Zhu Mingyao before she could commit any evil deeds or murders. Therefore, the reward points she received were slightly less than those of Jacob, the murderer who was an ordinary person.

Of course, in actual calculations, there are probably other minor factors involved, but the most important ones should be these two coefficients.

In fact, Zhu Mingyao has always believed that the name of the reward points would be more appropriate as "good deeds" or "good karma," since cutting off evil deeds is good.

Based on the system's operational standards, since the deformed monsters aren't particularly strong, yet the reward points for defeating them are quite substantial, it suggests that they have a lot of blood on their hands.

He silently sensed that, in addition to the negative energy left by the witchcraft modification, there was also a faint, strange fluctuation emanating from the deformed man's body, giving Zhu Mingyao's probing consciousness a kind of illusory burning sensation.

He reached out and beckoned the [Flying Eagle General] floating behind him. With his keen eagle eyes, he carefully examined the creature again, picking out a few greenish fragments from the deformed monster's superfluous skin that was intertwined with rock fragments.

Seeing the ominous glow emitted by the debris under the Qi Observation Technique, Zhu Mingyao suddenly realized what was happening.

His words had come true; he really was a mutant infected by nuclear radiation, and those fragments were clearly some kind of radioactive material.

Oh, right, the local police seem to have mentioned that a nuclear test site used to be located nearby...

Um?and many more!

A nuclear test site in the wilderness...

A group of mutated monsters infected by radiation...

I think I vaguely remember that.

Zhu Mingyao stroked his chin, trying to recall the jumbled fragments of short videos in his mind.

Note that this woman's name is Xiaomei... no, not that one.

...Xiao Shuai had no idea that Sang Biao was hiding in the house...or that's it.

...Hmm, the one that ambushed strays in the mine tunnels must be that one.