From picking up corpses to becoming a true god of America

Chapter 120 You dare to represent America?

Louise coldly faced Blake's interrogation.

Now that things have come to this, how could she not understand these people's plans?

It's nothing more than the traditional American power struggle: eliminating potential obstacles before even starting a mission.

So they planned to use Ye Xiao to threaten Louise and force her to compromise.

For the FBI, Louise was a controllable destabilizing factor.

Her presence and that of the Washington State regional task force will, to some extent, affect the work of the FBI.

Under these negative circumstances, Blake did not want another investigative body to exist at the same time, nor did he want anyone other than himself to continue to speak out.

After all, Griffin's example is a stark warning.

If not handled properly, he might become the next unlucky one.

"Who I appoint as my assistant and what decisions I make are none of your business, are they?"

Louise stared at Blake expressionlessly and without fear.

"Your avoidance is unreasonable, Louise."

Blake gave a gentle smile, his tone soft, but every word he uttered was aggressive.

"You know our way of doing things, and you know what that means."

95

"We are the FBI, and we have the capability to investigate anyone we suspect."

"I'm asking you one last time, who exactly is Ye Xiao to you?"

"Then you can look it up yourselves."

Louise gave a cold laugh, turned around and left without looking back.

Throughout the entire process, Ye Xiao stood behind her, upright and composed, as if the conversation between the others had nothing to do with him.

"Um?

Blake looked at Ye Xiao with some surprise: "Why are you still here?"

"It's nothing, I just wanted to remind everyone."

Ye Xiao smiled impeccably and said politely.

"Who I am and what my relationship is with Ms. Louise is none of your business."

After saying that, Ye Xiao's expression changed, and he turned around and followed Louise out of the conference room.

"oh?"

Blake paused for a moment, then smiled instinctively.

He hadn't expected Ye Chi to dare speak to them like that, and a surge of anger rose within him.

If you can't handle Superman, surely you can handle me?

Blake didn't even need to do it himself.

All we need to do is send someone to talk to the Department of Homeland Security, set a trap, and we can get rid of this bastard!

The United States has no shortage of people who yearn for freedom and democracy; countless people are lining up at the US-Mexico border to cross!

Unbeknownst to Blake, while he was contemplating murder, Ye Xiao had already devised a plan to deal with them.

Late at night, on a bustling street in Chicago.

This third-largest city in the United States, located next to Lake Michigan, boasts a "coastal" landscape remarkably similar to Seattle.

However, unlike Seattle, which has a relatively pleasant climate, Chicago in winter is a veritable ice and snow hell.

The vast central plains are unblocked by east-west mountain ranges, allowing the polar vortex to swirl freely and frequently resulting in various extreme cold waves.

Brown, a cleaner at Sam's Club, left through the back door after cleaning up the last puddle of vomit left by a homeless man, wrapped in only a thin layer of clothing.

The night was deep, and the cold wind was biting.

In this sub-zero temperature, where have all those annoying homeless people who used to roam the streets gone?

However, this did not have any impact.

Anyway, once spring comes, the city center will see a new batch of homeless people.

Perhaps Brown will become one of them.

Damn it.

Brown huddled up, bracing himself against the cold wind and freezing rain that came his way.

A respectable family, dressed in thick down jackets, walked past him, chatting and laughing.

Brown could clearly hear them discussing the Christmas dinner and gifts.

Christmas?

Brown had almost forgotten about this holiday.

Or perhaps he spends all his energy and money every day just dealing with visas and finding suitable jobs.

I simply don't have the mind to think about these unnecessary things.

But things shouldn't be like this!

Brown stood at the bus stop, stunned. In the dim light, he looked at his rough, dark, and scarred hands and suddenly realized something.

These hands have held test tubes and beakers, written papers worthy of publication in top journals, and shaken the hands of many physics professors.

However, the owner of these hands has now been tricked into coming to America, where, in order to obtain a so-called green card, he spends his days handling toxic cleaning agents and mops, dealing with those damn stains.

Brown sometimes has to admit that America really does toughen people up.

Back in my lab days, even wiping the tables was done by students.

As a result, after arriving here, he learned so many skills.

The bus arrived quickly, and before Brown could get on, he was pushed off by a forceful young Black man.

"Get on the bus and insert coins."

"Fuck you! You bitch!"

The young Black man smiled, made a gesture, and arrogantly sat down in the back of the bus without even paying.

The driver shook his head, his indifferent gaze returning to Brown.

"Get on the bus, insert coins."

"," Brown pursed his chapped lips, hesitated for a long time, and then took out $2.5.

He actually wanted to evade the fare like that young black man, since $2.50 was almost the cost of a meal for him.

But limited by the driver's strong physique and the lingering damned sense of morality in his heart, Brown gave in.

At that moment, he felt like a stupid donkey, a punching bag that could be bullied by anyone.

Even Brown didn't understand why things had turned out this way.

How did a physics PhD end up like this in America?

This isn't what those people agreed on!

Brown wanted to argue with the "friends" who had lured him to America, but unfortunately his Twitter account had been blocked by them.

So he could only post his usual feelings on it to help him get through the time it took to get a green card.

Once you get a green card, everything will be completely different!

That's right, as long as I can get that damn green card—

Just then, a mysterious man in a hoodie, whose face was completely covered, sat down next to Brown, blocking him by the window.

The stench emanating from the other person made Brown's already bad mood even worse.

Damn it, there are so many empty seats here, why does this guy have to sit next to me?

Brown couldn't help but feel a little angry.

Damn it, if I had a green card, the first thing I'd do is buy a car!

These disgusting guys have no manners and no sense of politeness whatsoever!

"Brown? Are you Isaac Brown from Complutense University of Madrid?"

Upon hearing that someone recognized him, Brown was taken aback at first, then turned his head in a panic, trying to cover his face.

"No, you've mistaken me for someone else!"

"I can't be wrong, you're Brown, the one waiting to apply for a green card, right?"

Upon hearing this, Brown hesitated for a moment before turning around.

He was confused and couldn't help but look at the other person a few more times, trying to figure out who this person was and how he recognized him.

"Who are you? How do you know me?"

"I saw your message online. You really need a green card, right?"

The mysterious man's voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't had water in a long time.

"That's right, but what's it to you?"

Brown couldn't help but feel a little wary.

He had recently heard that someone had indiscriminately attacked a Ukrainian immigrant on a bus.

As a result, no one on the bus helped, allowing the murderer to escape unscathed.

Isn't America just too damn free?

Brown suddenly remembered that he had been exchanging insults with those people in China on Twitter just two days ago.

So, could this person be here seeking revenge?

Damn it, doesn't he understand freedom of speech?!

Free speech is innocent!

Brown's eyes darted around as he pondered where he should run to.

"I can give you a chance."

The mysterious man didn't make a move on Brown: "An opportunity to stay in America forever."

"What?"

Brown gaped in surprise, his eerie green eyes gleaming with excitement.

Good heavens, could it be that someone has finally seen his predicament and is willing to lend him a helping hand?

There really are good people in America!

"Here's a thousand dollars. Go buy a plane ticket to Seattle tonight. Someone there will tell you what to do."

"Once this is all over, you can stay in America forever."

Brown held the thousand dollars in his hands with trembling hands, and a sudden thought of greed arose in his mind.

But at least he had received higher education, unlike those homeless people and gang members who only knew how to smoke marijuana.

Brown certainly knows which is more important: a full meal or a full meal.

At this moment, the thought of remaining forever in America acted like a spell, completely controlling Brown's mind.

Go to Seattle!

Go to Seattle!

Brown clenched the banknotes in his hand tightly, his dry, hoarse voice filled with ecstasy.

"I'm about to become a proud American!"

Inside an upscale seaside bar in Seattle.

Blake sat in a soft wooden chair, took a puff of his cigar, and watched the dancers on stage swaying their bodies with a dreamy expression.

What is this about handling cases and investigations?

He came here to take control of the overall situation. As long as the local forces in Seattle are suppressed and other departments don't make any rash moves, that's all that matters.

The rest of the matters were naturally handled by his subordinates.

An elite agent in a black suit walked slowly to Blake's side and said softly.

"Sir, the person in charge at ICE has agreed. When do you plan to take this action?"

"No rush."

Blake raised his hand and said arrogantly, "Let him teach that bastard a lesson first, and see if that little girl Louise is willing to back down."

"Yes, sir."

The subordinate nodded and slowly retreated without making a sound, as if he didn't exist at all.

The blonde singer on stage swayed gracefully as she sang classic old songs and then sat down next to Blake.

But just as Blake reached out, the singer suddenly dodged nimbly, avoiding the dirty, large hand.

"Hmph, trying to mess with me?"

Blake chuckled and suddenly pounced.

These bitches are just like those clueless bastards, always thinking they can get something out of him by using some petty tricks.

But what they didn't know was that in America, only strength is absolute.

Those little tricks were child's play to Blake.

"Sir, please don't do this!"

"Hmph, what do you mean 'don't do this'? Isn't this what you came here for?"

Blake pulled a wad of cash from his wallet and casually scattered it on the poor singer.

"Sir, I... I'm not that kind of person!"

"You aren't, but I am!"

"ah!"

"Hehehe" 7

Blake roughly picked up the singer, but his wicked grin abruptly stopped.

He suddenly noticed an unsightly figure in the dimly lit tavern.

A thin, middle-aged man wearing a hood stood in the center of the dance floor, staring blankly at the scene.

Those eerie green eyes were particularly noticeable under the light, which made Blake especially disgusted.

"Damn it!"

Blake glared, gritting his teeth in anger, and shouted, "What are you all good for? How dare you let these scoundrels barge in!"

"teacher!"

Hearing the exclamation behind him, Blake turned around, his pupils shrinking sharply.

The subordinates who had been so respectful just moments before were now clutching their chests, collapsing to the ground in agony, convulsing, blood streaming uncontrollably from between their fingers.

Damn it, is this an attack?

"Damn it!"

In this critical moment, Blake's memories from decades ago suddenly resurfaced.

He shoved the singer forward to block the man, his obese body nimbly flipping behind the sofa, grabbing the walkie-talkie and shouting.

"Help! My place is under attack!"

"What?!"

The person on the other end of the walkie-talkie was also quite surprised and quickly said, "Chief, Director?"

"Damn it, get to the dock area!"

"But... all our people have been sent out!"

"Then get them back quickly! Damn it, don't we still have a helicopter?!"

Blake was nearly frantic with worry.

"Um, that—"

The staff on duty at the branch office said in a panic, "That helicopter was taken away by Senior Inspector Hunter, who said he was taking people to Canada for inspection—"

Upon hearing this, Blake's face turned pale instantly.

Damn it!

What a load of bullshit inspection!

That bastard Hunter must have taken his girlfriend to Canada for fun!

Blake never expected that after sending all his men out, the enemy would suddenly attack him!

Are we really going to go this far?

"Is it you, you bastard, who wants to drive us all out of America?"

Completely enraged, Brown stared intently at Blake with a savage glint in his murky green eyes.

"You damned American traitor! The Lord was right!"

"I will destroy you on behalf of America!"

Ok?

Blake was taken aback when he heard Brown's words.

Damn it, I told you long ago that these immigrants are dangerous!

What American traitor?

Blake was so angry he laughed.

His ancestors served under Lincoln, making him a deeply entrenched supporter of the American flag.

Today, I was called a traitor by a damn immigrant.

Do you even deserve to represent America?

"Hmph, you disgusting bastard."

Blake pulled out his pistol, stood up, pointed it at Brown, and sneered.

"America doesn't need trash like you!"

Before he could finish speaking, Blake fired several shots.

Although his body was ravaged by alcohol and women, under the influence of anger and patriotism, Blake was in top form, hitting Brown's thin body with every shot, causing bursts of blood to erupt.

That's it?

Blake laughed.

I don't know which bastard would find such trash to attack him.

This kind of trash, he alone could—

Blake's smile quickly froze.

In his increasingly panicked vision, Brown, who had been shot multiple times, not only did not fall to the ground, but instead continued to charge at him, brandishing a fruit knife!