People are scared in America, my uncle is Dante

Taggart Farm.

Located on the edge of Poho County, adjacent to Highway 9 East.

The endless sorghum on the farm ripples like golden waves in the breeze, and the surroundings are peaceful and serene.

"Billy, tie up the third scarecrow! Come back for dinner after you've finished."

From the distant farmhouse came the rough shouts of Jack, the father.

Young Billy, panting heavily, lifted a scarecrow wrapped in black cloth and secured it to the cross.

"The other two must be tied tightly; I don't want them to be blown away by the strong wind."

The voice of his father, Jack, kept coming.

"knew--"

Billy wiped the sweat from his brow and replied somewhat impatiently.

"quack--"

The shouts startled several crows that had been perched on the other two scarecrows.

He shook his head helplessly: "This thing is completely useless."

"Billy! Did you break the drill again?!"

Jack's angry voice came again.

"No, I didn't!"

Billy roared, his frustration growing.

He hastily tied up the scarecrow in his hand, jumped into the sorghum stalks, and, mimicking his father Jack's tone, repeated in a sarcastic manner:

"I don't want to be blown away by the strong wind..."

"This piece of junk can keep birds away? That's utter nonsense."

"Woof—woof—"

Just then, their usually docile dog suddenly started barking wildly at the sorghum field in the distance.

Upon hearing the sound, Billy instinctively stood on tiptoe to see what was going on.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the scarecrow's head not far away seem to twitch.

Several crows were startled and flew away.

Billy was taken aback. Was it just his imagination?

He looked at the extra scarecrow, puzzled. Where did it come from? He didn't remember tying up a scarecrow here. Could it be a prank by his brother?

With a hint of doubt and unease, Billy reached out and pushed aside the sorghum, slowly approaching the extra scarecrow.

As he got closer, he realized that the scarecrow was completely different from the cheap one he had made with just a few strips of cloth.

It looks...too real.

It's like someone being tied to it.

The scarecrow was wrapped in a black coat from head to toe and wore a black cowboy hat.

The midday sun shone on the brim of the hat, casting the scarecrow's face in shadow, making it difficult to see clearly.

"Where did this come from?"

Billy stopped a short distance away and examined the scarecrow.

Generally speaking, to save time, the clothes on their scarecrows are very simple, just stuffed with some dry grass and a stick to make it look like a scarecrow.

But what's in front of me...

Billy slowly looked down, his pupils contracting.

What was exposed at the bottom of the scarecrow was not a stick or some kind of hay, but a pair of feet covered with black scales and sharp, hook-like nails.

This reminded him of the monsters in movies.

The dog in the distance let out a whimper, as if it had been frightened by something.

Billy felt a chill run down his spine. He realized something was wrong, and his body instinctively turned and ran, screaming loudly:

"Daddy!! Brother!!"

But it was too late.

A claw gripped his head.

Jack, the father, and his eldest son, who were repairing a drilling machine outside the farmhouse, stopped what they were doing when they heard their hunting dog whimpering unusually.

Upon hearing their youngest son's cries for help, they exchanged a glance, their expressions changing.

"Billy?!"

They swept across the golden fields, and the small, thin figure that had been inside disappeared.

"Damn it!"

The father and son rushed to the field, parted the leaves, and ran wildly in the direction of Billy's cries.

Strangely, the cries didn't get closer or stop; instead, they moved further and further away from them.

Suddenly, Jack, the father, stopped and looked up at the sky.

Under the blinding sunlight, a dark shadow with huge fleshy wings soared into the sky, clutching the dying Billy in its hand.

"Billy!!!"

……

Perhaps due to the rain over the past two days, there was a light mist in the air in Los Santos today.

"Be careful when making friends at school, and don't get too close to those boys."

Suren leaned against Sampton's car, watching Patty walk toward school, and gave her some instructions.

"You're so long-winded! You're more like an old man than Uncle Morrison."

Patty stood at the school gate, turned around and made a face at Suren.

Today, she was wearing a fitted long dress, with her long golden hair cascading down her back. Her youthful and beautiful face, coupled with her innate air of a young lady from a wealthy family, made her the focus of attention as soon as she appeared at the school gate.

Many boys turned around frequently, and a few bolder ones even whistled, trying to strike up a conversation.

But when they saw the aloof and stern-looking Su Lun not far away, they all backed down.

With one exception.

"Hey! Patty!"

A roaring sound came from the roadside, and a red convertible sports car pulled up.

A boy with slicked-back hair and wearing a school team jacket jumped over the car door, twirling a keychain in his hand, and confidently blocked Patty's way.

Scott Braddock was one of Patty's most persistent suitors.

"How about riding in my car this weekend? It's a brand new one my dad just bought for me."

As Scott spoke, he sized Suren up and down with a hostile look. "And who is this guy driving that beat-up Sampton? That car looks old enough to sit at the same table as my grandpa."

"That flashy red coat is so tasteless. Where did you find it? Are you going to a bullfight?"

When Patty saw him, her expression became much calmer, and she subconsciously took a step to the side.

"Get out of my way, Scott. What I do with him is none of your business."

"Don't be like that, Patty..."

Undeterred, Scott, wanting to demonstrate his masculinity in front of his goddess, deliberately raised his chin at Suren and loudly provoked her:

"Uncle, stay away from Patty. This isn't something a poor old man like you can..."

"Study hard at school and stay away from mental illness."

Suren ignored Scott's outburst, nodded to Patty, and turned to get into the car.

Boys this age are always thinking about how to get the attention of their crush by belittling others.

Little do they know that in the eyes of those who dislike them, this behavior is as ridiculous as a peacock in heat displaying its feathers everywhere.

"you!"

Scott's face flushed red. This humiliation of being ignored made him, who was in his adolescence and valued his dignity more than life itself, feel a surge of anger.

His fists clenched so tightly they cracked, yet he dared not make a move, intimidated by the inexplicable aura emanating from Suren.

"I'll ask you one last time, the scenery along East Route 9 is really amazing! And there's also the legendary haunted church ruins."

Patty walked past Scott and called out to Suren, "Are you really not going?"

Suren raised his hand and shook it lazily.

"Hmph! You can just stay here in this empty house and get moldy!"

Patty angrily turned and ran into the campus, leaving Scott standing there awkwardly.

He looked at the goddess's back, then at the man who didn't even glance at him. Amidst the teasing looks of his classmates, he felt his nose turn red.

Suren got into the passenger seat.

"Let's go, Uncle Morrison."

This car naturally belongs to Morrison. The firm is considered rich if it doesn't have to run out of water and electricity every day, so where would they get the money to buy a car?

Morrison skillfully started the car and chuckled, "These young people nowadays are so energetic."

He had, of course, heard Scott's provocation.

"Too young, easily hurt." Suren adjusted his chair and lay down. "Go to Enzo's."

"Go find Enzo?" Morrison raised an eyebrow. "You want to redeem the magical artifacts Dante pawned?"

"We should always get some interest."

Su Lunlun said matter-of-factly, "Dante inexplicably put me in debt, so what's wrong with me using some of his weapons?"

Upon hearing this, Morrison's expression turned somewhat strange. He looked at Suren with pity and stepped on the gas.