You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Chapter 213 The Surgery is Complete

"Since it's all connected now..."

Alex lowered his voice, his gaze passing over Leon's shoulder to Thomas, who was busy finishing up the surgery.

"And what about this old man? He's the head of two departments; even if he's not a high-level immortal being, he's definitely at least on the verge of it, right?"

"Just because they didn't fill out a referral form, they were kicked out of the game. If we delve deeper into this matter following the theory of the immortal species, isn't there some explanation?"

Lyon adjusted his position against the wall, finding a more comfortable angle.

"The medical, legal, and credit systems established by the apex long-lived species are essentially designed to draw an absolute red line regarding the margin of error between the two species."

He looked at Alex and continued to break it down: "For top-tier long-lived species, their margin for error is infinite."

"If an investment fails, you can file for bankruptcy protection; if you get seriously ill, you have a private medical team on call 24 hours a day; and even if you break the law, you can spend millions to hire a legal team to turn black into white."

"But for those people down there," Leon gestured with his chin toward the door, "their margin for error is absolutely zero."

Alex nodded thoughtfully; this theory aligned with what he saw every day in the morgue.

"really."

Alex sighed. "I just received a corpse last month."

"That guy was originally a respectable truck driver, not the kind of thugs who belong to street gangs, but he certainly couldn't fit into elite circles either."

"I broke my leg in the snow and impulsively called an ambulance."

Alex held up two fingers.

"That one ambulance ride, plus a few tests in the emergency room, cost him a bill of over $40,000."

"Americans can't save money to begin with, so of course he can't afford to pay his bills. His credit goes bankrupt, followed by a series of defaults on his mortgage and car loan, and his house is foreclosed by the bank."

"He slept in his beat-up pickup truck for three months, and eventually died under an overpass due to complications from an infected wound."

"By the time I put him in the body bag, he was already a pile of rotten flesh."

Lyon continued, following Alex's example, "That's the original intention behind the design of this system."

"In the eyes of those top-tier long-lived species who set the rules, ordinary short-lived species, and even novice long-lived species like Thomas, are essentially just carriers of debt."

"As long as these people are still working hard to pay off their student loans, car loans, and that potentially fatal medical bill, this social machine will function perfectly, and Wall Street's financial statements will look very good."

"But once they lose their value as exploiters, like those outside, they won't even be able to pay the interest—"

Leon paused for a moment, "The social system will immediately classify them as bad assets and initiate a stop-loss procedure."

"Sigh, I know what you're going to say next."

Alex received the call.

"Then, the system will dispose of them through various legal physical means."

"For example, the rampant fentanyl, the harsh December winter in Seattle, and losing one's job. In the end, they even saved on cremation fees, just selling the whole thing to a collection company like mine."

Lyon nodded and turned his gaze back to Thomas.

"As for Thomas."

Lyon narrowed his eyes. "Back then, as the head of two departments, he already had the ability to decide the life and death of short-lived species, and his social status and income had already reached the threshold of long-lived species."

"But compared to those superior immortal beings who truly set the rules, he is essentially still a high-level employee, burdened with a large amount of medical student loans."

"Since he broke the rules used to screen and eliminate bad assets, he blocked the path to wealth for medical capital."

Leon shrugged. "Any immortal being of a higher rank than him will naturally use the rules to eliminate him immediately."

After listening, Alex sighed helplessly.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, which reeked of corpses, and smirked. "No wonder we at Benevolent Biology never have enough body bags. America is such a major immigrant nation, people are coming in every day, but the total population just won't increase."

"All immigrants were written off as non-performing assets."

This was not just a simple joke by Alex.

Every year, as many as 100,000 working-class Americans die on the streets from overdoses of opioids such as fentanyl. This is in addition to gang shootings, diabetes patients who die from complications due to lack of insulin, and bankrupt individuals who freeze to death under overpasses in the dead of winter.

These enormous numbers of unnatural deaths, like an invisible black hole, efficiently devour those short-lived species that have lost their surplus value, keeping the country's lower-class population firmly suppressed within a safe threshold.

"Ding-a-ling"

A crisp metallic clang interrupted Alex's musings.

Beside the marble table, Pastor Thomas tossed the hemostats and scissors, stained with dark red, viscous blood, directly into the aluminum curved tray next to him.

Thomas straightened up, took off the blood-soaked latex gloves, and threw them into the trash bag at his feet. He casually wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and turned to look at Leon.

"it's over."

Thomas's tone was flat and monotone. "The blood vessels are connected, and the infection is under control. Now we just have to wait for him to wake up."

Lyon nodded and stepped forward.

He picked up a stack of sterile gauze left in the first aid kit, moistened it with hydrogen peroxide, and quickly wiped away the dried blood and mud around Christopher's calves.

Then, he drew his tactical folding knife from his waist, cut open and peeled off the old man's tattered suit jacket, which was covered in dirt and decaying leaves, and threw it on the ground. He then grabbed a relatively clean dust cloth from the side and covered Christopher with it.

After cleaning the bloodstains from the table, Leon had just thrown the blood-stained gauze into the trash bag when a heavy sigh came from behind him.

He turned his head and saw Thomas leaning against the cold stone wall of the baptismal chamber.

After the surgery, Thomas's focus on life and death vanished instantly. The skin on his old face sagged, and his eyes lost their focus and dimness once more.

Although the numb and frenzied feeling of treating human lives like commodities and haggling over them, which I had experienced in the central hall, was gone, I was still visibly in a state of lethargy and exhaustion.

Lyon looked at the seventy-something-year-old man and frowned slightly.

If I could win over this top-notch medical expert who doesn't question anyone's background, my logistical support would definitely be top-notch.

Moreover, this old man had just helped him retain his researchers at Pfizer's R&D center. Whether it was out of mutual benefit or a complex empathy for a saint falling into the mire, Lyon felt he couldn't just stand by and watch the old man continue to go crazy.

Leon turned his head and gave Alex a look.

Alex immediately understood. The two walked over and each put their arms around Thomas's arm.

"Come on, old man, let's go outside for some fresh air."

Leon half-helped and half-forced Thomas to walk out.

The three pushed open the wooden door of the baptismal room, avoiding the growing number of homeless people gathering in the front hall.

They followed a narrow, overgrown path along the church's outer wall, eventually reaching a secluded corner in the churchyard where abandoned benches were piled up.

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