Chapter 14: New Information: Terror Under the Moonlight

"Starting today, camping is forbidden in parks and along streets!"

Police officers shouted through megaphones at the homeless, then placed their hands on their waist weapons, rudely and brutally driving them away.

"Damn it!"

Roger hadn't expected Seattle's city government to even target the parks.

A while back, police had already driven away most of the homeless on the streets, because the law prohibited begging.

So the homeless, who had survived solely on the kindness of tourists, lost their income and flooded into parks, sewers, and other concealed corners, making these places overcrowded.

Now police were banning camping in parks and along streets—wasn't that pushing them straight to death?

"Is this what capitalism boasts as survival of the fittest?"

Roger cursed under his breath, dodged past the police, and returned to his tent to quickly pack everything up.

At that moment, a group of homeless people had gathered together to protest against the police.

"Where are we supposed to go if we can't stay here?"

"Yeah, if you won't let us camp, are you going to make us sleep on the street?"

"This is our home—we're not going anywhere!"

Although it was a protest, the homeless remained restrained, merely clustering together to block the police, showing no aggression.

Yet the police showed no gentleness whatsoever; they kept their hands on their waist weapons, slightly crouching into defensive stances, and shouted loudly: "Listen! Fall back! Maintain a distance of twenty-five feet!"

"Fall back! Do you understand?!"

The homeless tried to step back, but more people pressed behind them, trapping those in front.

"I warn you one last time! Raise your hands! Fall back!" The police drew their weapons, watching every movement of the homeless with vigilance.

Seeing the guns, the homeless frantically shoved backward, finally creating some space.

But one Black man moved back slightly slower—and the next second, a gun was pointed at his head, ordering him to lie face-down.

After he lay there with his hands raised, the officer pressed his leg against the man's neck and roughly cuffed him with brutal force.

The homeless man struggled to breathe.

"He's going to die!"

"Don't treat him like this!"

"Black lives matter!"

A sympathetic Black homeless man shouted out.

But the police paid no attention; they even pressed both knees onto the Black man's body, only standing up when his eyes bulged with red veins and his dark skin turned bluish.

"Threat neutralized," the officer said, then returned to his team.

The Black man lay motionless, only blood trickling from his mouth onto the ground.

The Black female homeless stared in disbelief, covering their mouths.

But most white homeless onlookers watched coldly, as if utterly unsurprised.

"I'm giving you ten minutes—if you haven't left by then, we'll arrest you for violating camping laws!"

"Seven minutes remaining."

The police megaphone still blared, but now the homeless had lost the will to resist.

The crowd scattered in a rush, sprinting toward their tents.

Roger watched this scene, took a deep breath, slung his pack over his shoulders, and left the park.

On the way, he ran into Juan, who had just arrived.

"What happened?" Juan asked, eyeing Roger's pack.

Roger shrugged: "Social Darwinism is in full effect—we've got to find a new place to stay."

Juan immediately understood, frowning: "What if we go to the sewers?"

Although the city government periodically clears homeless people from the sewers, it should still be livable for a while.

"Forget it." After working at the dump, Roger had no desire whatsoever to stay in any place with that smell.

"Let's just find a street to stay on for now."

After making their decision, the two began searching along Third Avenue for a new suitable camping spot.

They dared not approach the downtown core or white neighborhoods, only slowly searching through the more dangerous Black neighborhoods.

Along the way, other homeless people were also searching for new places to stay.

According to them, today's police operation was widespread, driving away about ninety percent of the homeless from the downtown park.

Yet this news would never appear in any newspaper.

Even though a Black man had been kneed to death today, no reporters came to cover it.

It was as if the homeless were invisible to society—everyone tacitly excluded them from daily life.

By six p. m., many homeless still hadn't found suitable spots.

Helplessly, some chose to sleep along the roadside, others risked returning to the park, and a few unlucky fools tried sleeping near white neighborhoods—only to be arrested shortly after.

They hadn't done anything—hadn't even entered the community, merely slept nearby. Still, residents called the police, claiming they threatened community safety.

Fortunately, Roger and Juan were lucky—they'd already found a new place.

A small patch of open ground beside an abandoned building.

Thanks to their strength and the dog with them, they looked intimidating, so no other homeless dared come to steal their spot.

After setting up camp, Roger could finally rest for a moment.

But compared to the slightly open homeless encampment in the park, this place was not only more crowded, but the smell of marijuana was far stronger.

In fact, right now, several homeless around them were smoking weed, and others sneaked inside tents to take stimulants.

Roger could only be grateful he hadn't touched any of these things—if he had, even with more money, he'd burn through it all.

Thinking of this, he looked at Juan with a puzzled expression.

Juan was stroking Jose's wagging tail, and sensing the man's gaze, he asked in confusion:

"What's wrong?"

"Didn't you and Jose ever smoke marijuana or leaves when you got here?"

"Of course I did," Juan said calmly. "When we arrived, we were injured and had no money. Without those things, we never would've made it."

"Then why…?"

"You're wondering why I didn't get addicted?"

"Exactly."

"Because I only tried it once, and never touched the high-purity stuff. Even though sometimes I still miss how good it felt, I still have Jose."

He gently ran his hand over the pitbull's skin: "I can't get hooked on that stuff—otherwise, no one would take care of Jose."

Roger broke out in a cold sweat, feeling the man might be slipping into another episode.

So he hurried back into his tent to rest.

But just as he was about to fall asleep, new information suddenly appeared before his eyes.

【Third Intelligence: The Horror Under the Moonlight】

【Recently, a series of horrific incidents have occurred in Xin Yidunweier Shequ. Witnesses claim they saw a twisted, inhuman horror with razor-sharp claws lurking under the moonlight. Investigators must enter the community immediately and uncover the truth within three days.】

【Reward after investigation: Skill 'Camouflage', Ancient God's Silver Coin ×1, $100】