Dual Transmigration: American Prison, Surviving to a Fantasy Development Stage

Lin Feng looked around; the abandoned factory was exactly the same as it had been before he left.

Nothing has changed.

Lin Feng took out the electric off-road motorcycle from his spatial storage.

After starting, a twist of the throttle and the motorcycle disappears into the Tijuana night.

The moonlight was like quicksilver, and in an instant, even the taillights were no longer visible.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, in an office of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security Investigations (ICE), the atmosphere was tense.

Within a single day, several Texas agents went missing, routine reports were interrupted, and their personal phones became unreachable—this is far from ordinary.

What's even more chilling is that, based on the last captured cell phone signals, the technical department located them and found that the source of their cell phone signals was strangely all in Tijuana, a border city in Mexico.

"That's impossible."

The team leader in charge of the case stared at the dotted spots on the map on the screen, his brow furrowed. "They haven't reported any cross-border missions. Try to contact them immediately, dial all known numbers continuously."

However, all that came through the receiver was a cold, repetitive busy tone, or a direct transfer to voicemail.

"Team leader, they've probably run into trouble. Since their phones are in Mexico, our ICE doesn't have the authority to investigate. We need to involve the FBI."

"Report this to the director immediately. Anyone who dares to touch the police must not be let off easily."

Lin Feng was completely unaware of the impending storm and didn't care at all.

Instead of heading to any hotel, he used his clear memory of the map to drive his motorcycle to a relatively quiet villa area on the outskirts of Tijuana.

The houses here are spaced far apart, with lush greenery and excellent privacy.

His target was one of the three-story villas with a garden.

This is the very place where the wife of that unfortunate Brazilian photographer was imprisoned, and also an important stronghold of a local gang leader.

However, at this moment, it had already been "temporarily requisitioned" by Lin Feng in his mind.

It was quiet outside the villa, but Lin Feng's keen senses could detect the movements in the shadows.

He stored the motorcycle in his storage space, and like a falling leaf, he nimbly flipped over the courtyard wall and landed silently.

In the courtyard, two burly men wearing flashy shirts and with bulging waists were chatting quietly on lounge chairs by the pool, holding beer cans in their hands.

Further away, under the porch of the villa's main entrance, a figure was pacing back and forth, occasionally glancing warily toward the driveway.

Lin Feng hid in the shadows and observed for a moment, then picked up two small pebbles from the ground and held them between his fingers.

He held his breath and focused intently. With a slight flick of his wrist, two extremely faint whooshing sounds rang out as the pebbles accurately struck the pressure points on the back of the necks of the two burly men in the courtyard.

The two men froze, without uttering a sound, and collapsed to the ground, their beer cans rolling with a dull thud.

Hearing the commotion, the guard at the gate made a puzzled "Hmm?" sound and looked towards the pool with his gun in hand.

Just as his attention was drawn to the scene, Lin Feng's figure flashed like a ghost, snapped his neck, and was devoured by the black lotus.

Then, with a light leap, it silently climbed onto the second-floor terrace.

Simply clean the camera.

He then calmly walked down the internal staircase to the first floor as if he were back in his own home.

The living room on the first floor of the villa was brightly lit and filled with the smell of cigars.

A bald, middle-aged man with a fleshy face, wearing a floral shirt, was lounging casually on a leather sofa, a cigar between his fingers and a phone in the other, shouting in a loud, gruff voice in Spanish: "When I ask you to deliver a package, it's either windy or rainy."

Let those guys swallow the drugs, get them through security, and then poop them out.

The goods must be delivered by next Wednesday, or I'll throw you into the Pacific Ocean to feed the fish.

As soon as he finished speaking, he was startled when he caught a glimpse of a strange and composed figure walking down the stairs out of the corner of his eye.

The next instant, his instincts, honed from years of living on the edge, caused his expression to change drastically, and his right hand reflexively reached for his waist.

There was a Glock pistol tucked there.

However, in Lin Feng's eyes, his speed was as slow as a snail.

Lin Feng's figure suddenly blurred, and when it became clear again, he had appeared in front of the sofa as if he had teleported.

The leader only felt a blur before his eyes, and then his throat was gripped by a hand like an iron clamp, instantly draining all his voice and strength.

With a soft "click," the fierce light in his eyes quickly faded, and his obese body slumped down.

The black lotus in Lin Feng's palm flashed by, and the figure of the Black Boss disappeared.

Within seconds, a complex stream of information returned:

This man's name is Arturo Daniel, nicknamed Scorpion.

He was one of the leaders of the Tijuana City drug cartel who smuggled drugs for Mexican drug lords.

He is ruthless, greedy, and lustful, and also runs some side businesses.

They believe in the "business philosophy" of making huge profits without any initial investment.

They especially enjoy intercepting illegal immigrants, forcibly detaining the most attractive women among them, and taking them for themselves.

When they're tired of it, they hand it over to their subordinates, who then make films. When the films become worthless, they're sent out on the street to extract the last bit of value.

The fate of these women was basically that they were disposed of after contracting the disease.

The information also indicates that three women who had just been kidnapped and whose fate had not yet been dealt with were being held captive in the basement of the villa.

Both were of Latin descent, one of whom was the wife of the Brazilian photographer.

The other one is Erxiong, a girl with pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes.

Lin Feng did not go to the basement for the time being.

According to Daniel's memory, he first turned around and went up to the master bedroom on the second floor.

Pushing open the heavy solid wood door, the interior was decorated in a lavish, opulent style, exuding an air of nouveau riche gold.

He walked straight to a huge oil painting of nudity, moved it aside, and revealed a safe embedded in the wall behind it.

After turning the combination lock a few times, it clicked open.

The safe contained quite a lot of items. On the bottom shelf, there were stacks of neatly bundled Mexican pesos, roughly estimated at around 20 million (approximately US$116 million).

The second layer contained neatly stacked green US dollar bills, totaling around 200 million.

There were two watch boxes next to it. When I opened them, one contained a gold Rolex and the other contained a rainbow Daytona Rolex.

In the corner were several sealed plastic bags containing white powder, and next to them were two chrome-plated Desert Eagle pistols, with even ostentatious engravings on their bodies.

Everyone who sees it gets a share, so Lin Feng put everything into his spatial storage.

He picked up the gold watch and casually put it on his wrist.

"I must say, she's really quite flamboyant."

However, this watch is not as valuable as the Rainbow Daytona. A Rainbow Daytona can be worth more than $30 on the secondary market. For these gangsters, this kind of hard currency is sometimes more useful than cash.

After cleaning up, Lin Feng returned to the living room on the first floor and casually pulled out a 10-year-old Lafite from the wine cabinet next to him.

His gaze swept over the Cuban Cohiba on the coffee table.

He cut open a cigarette, lit it, took a deep drag, and exuded a bit of gangster boss vibes.

Watching the Miss World pageant on TV, life is quite pleasant.

Knock, knock, knock—that's when the sound came from the basement.

Please, please give us some food.

"I'll do anything you ask."

Upon hearing this, Lin Feng frowned. He had originally planned to stay here for a few days to see how things were going, but what should he do with the three women in the basement?