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

The other three quickly echoed:

"Yes, yes, Mr. Lin, that's exactly what we mean!"

"We're congressmen, we still have some power in Las Vegas... Keeping us alive is far more useful than killing us!"

Looking at their groveling faces, Lin Feng couldn't help but click his tongue: "Damn it, you four scumbags, I really want to slap you both."

But I'm also afraid that in a fit of anger I'll beat you all to a pulp, and that wouldn't be fun.

He reached out and placed four black talismans on the coffee table.

Then he took out a small silver dagger from his storage bag and placed it next to the talisman with a "ding".

"Drip your blood onto this talisman, and then write your names on it."

Lin Feng's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable command.

The faces of the four men turned deathly pale at the same time.

Although they didn't know exactly what the talisman was, they could tell at a glance that it was nothing good—it was pitch black, with strange runes, and exuded a chilling aura.

This is definitely some kind of witchcraft, some kind of witchcraft that can control people's minds.

Milton Jackson shook his head frantically, his voice trembling:

"Mr. Lin... please spare us!"

We truly know we were wrong! We will absolutely listen to you from now on and will never have any second thoughts!

We swear! We swear to God!

"Yes, yes, Mr. Lin! We would never betray you!"

The other three also kowtowed and begged for mercy, their foreheads pounding loudly on the carpet.

Lin Feng ignored their pleas.

He flicked his right index finger in the air, and the spilled red wine on the ground seemed to be drawn together by something, forming a long, thin stream of water.

It slowly took flight as if it had come to life.

The wine stream twisted and coiled in the air, like a dark red venomous snake, silently wrapping around the necks of the four people.

The liquor was fragile and easily broken, but to the four of them at that moment, the liquor line felt like a steel cable, suffocating them.

The wine line slowly tightened, and the four men's faces changed from red to purple, then from purple to blue. Their eyes were bloodshot, and they made a "hoarse" sound in their throats. They desperately tried to grab the air around their necks, but they couldn't grasp anything.

They pounded on the ground, their fingers scratching the wooden floor with a harsh sound.

Milton Jackson managed to utter a few indistinct words: "We...are...willing..."

Lin Feng snapped his fingers.

The liquor instantly turned into water droplets and scattered. The four people collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, like four dogs just pulled out of the water, soaking wet and in a sorry state.

Lin Feng looked down at them.

"Damn it, he's just a jerk."

"They won't shed a tear until they see the coffin."

Milton Jackson picked up the silver dagger with trembling hands and made a cut on his left index finger.

Blood gushed out, and he shakily pressed his index finger onto the black talisman.

The moment the blood came into contact with the talisman, it was as if it were being devoured by a living creature, instantly absorbed and vanished without a trace.

Milton's pupils contracted sharply—he felt a chill surge from his fingertips, rushing through his veins to his brain.

He fearfully picked up the pen and trembled as he wrote his name—his full English name—on the talisman, each stroke crooked and uneven.

As soon as the last letter was written, the black talisman transformed into a wisp of black smoke and rose from the talisman paper.

It burrowed directly into Milton Jackson's nasal cavity and disappeared from his mind.

Milton shuddered violently, his eyes momentarily vacant before returning to normal.

This bizarre scene terrified the other three councilors.

But seeing Milton still breathing, they could only grit their teeth and accept reality—being controlled was better than dying.

The three of them followed Milton's example, dripping blood and signing their names onto the black talisman in turn.

Each time the last letter was written, the talisman would turn into black smoke and enter their minds.

The three of them trembled simultaneously, their eyes becoming empty and submissive.

Seeing this, Lin Feng nodded in satisfaction.

He was initially worried that the talisman wouldn't work on foreigners—after all, it was made by the Ghost Eye Sect, and they didn't follow the rules of the same world.

I never imagined that souls don't discriminate based on nationality. Whether you're Asian, Caucasian, or Black, talismans work the same way.

It seems that the essence of the soul is more ancient than language and skin color.

Lin Feng snapped his fingers.

Milton Jackson and the other three also snapped their fingers unconsciously, their movements perfectly synchronized, like robots receiving a unified command.

This scene terrified them even more—they clearly didn't want to snap their fingers, but their bodies wouldn't obey them, as if someone had pressed the play button.

"Very good," Lin Feng said slowly, his voice neither loud nor soft, yet so clear that every word could be etched into their souls.

"I'm only saying this once, so listen carefully."

The four men knelt on the carpet, heads tilted back, like four lambs awaiting judgment.

"From today onwards, I am your master, no, from now on I will be called the boss."

Everything you have—wealth, power, and life—belongs to me.

If you dare to reveal any information about me to anyone, I will know immediately.

"Then you will die a horrible death, a truly horrible death—without a trace of your remains."

"Yes... Mr. Lin..." Milton's voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of submission.

Lin Feng raised an eyebrow: "What's your name?"

The four men paused for a second, then changed their tune in unison: "Master! No—Boss, we wouldn't dare! We absolutely wouldn't dare!"

Lin Feng nodded in satisfaction: "You're a promising student."

He reached for the sheet of paper on the coffee table covered with names. It listed six conglomerates, all established local powers in Las Vegas, controlling seven or eight casinos and hotels, with assets easily reaching billions of dollars.

"Now, give me your phone numbers."

Lin Feng flipped the paper over and pointed to the pen next to it.

"I'll call you if I need anything in the future."

If I can't get through on the phone, or if you answer too late, I'll show you what cruelty is.

The four people eagerly wrote down their mobile phone numbers, home landline numbers, and even their secretary's number, as if they wanted to give Lin Feng all the contact information for their entire family.

Lin Feng put the note away and turned to walk to the wine cabinet in the living room.

The cabinet was densely packed with various fine wines—Rémy Martin, XO, Lafite, Romanée-Conti, Hennessy… each bottle was quite valuable.

The wine cabinet in the villa happened to be empty.

Lin Feng casually waved his hand, and the entire cabinet of wine vanished instantly, stored in his Black Lotus Space.

He turned around, looked at the four people kneeling on the ground, and slowly clenched his left fist.

"boom--"

At the same time, all four felt a sharp pain explode in their chests, as if an invisible hand had gripped their hearts. The pain caused them to fall to the ground, curl up in a ball, cough up blood, and turn deathly pale.

The pain lasted for about ten seconds, then receded like a tide, leaving them lying exhausted on the carpet, too weak to even move a finger.

Lin Feng turned and strode out of the living room, his figure disappearing into the night as silently as he had come.

Half an hour later, Milton Jackson managed to get up from the ground with great difficulty.

He glanced at the three other equally disheveled people beside him, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

His shirt was stained dark red with red wine, and there were traces of dried wine on his face. His hair was matted together in clumps, making him look like a homeless man who had just crawled out of a garbage can.

But he couldn't care less about any of that—his mind was completely occupied with what had just happened:

The bullet stopped in mid-air, the red wine turned into a rope, the talisman entered his mind... all of this was beyond his comprehension and overturned the worldview he had built up over decades.

He finally believed that there really were supernatural forces in this world that transcended human understanding.

And that young man named Lin Feng was the embodiment of that power.

The four of them helped each other to their feet, sat on the sofa, and remained silent for a long time.

After a long silence, Milton Jackson finally spoke, his voice hoarse and barely audible, like a dream: "Did we...see God?"

The other three people did not answer.

But everyone was thinking the same answer.

Starting today, the landscape of Las Vegas is about to change.

The casino officially opened the next day.

Sarah saw that Mayor Milton Jackson had also arrived, along with the remaining councilors and bureau chiefs who had all come to show their support.

All the women turned their gaze to Lin Feng in the corner.

Her beautiful eyes were filled with admiration.