Chapter 69

"What is called a joyful street life is merely an illusion,

"Even seasoned criminals will eventually be caught.

"Shot through the throat by a bullet they bought themselves,

"A nine-millimeter pistol at the waist..."

"Bang!"

The gunshot shattered the music, awakening the quiet community. Residents' nerves instantly tightened like wound-up alarm clocks, clutching weapons, ready at all times to defend their homes.

Roger removed his headphones, pulled out the Glock from beneath his pillow, placed it on his chest, and listened silently to the sounds outside.

Amid the endless drizzle in Seattle these past two days, gang conflicts have grown even fiercer.

Robbie had come back midway to deliver Roger several fully loaded magazines.

According to him, the Crips' boss was attacked the night before—when the Mexicans launched their raid on Xin Yidunweier Shequ—and is now hospitalized with injuries.

Thus, the Crips are currently without a leader, and several second-in-commands each patrol different territories with their own crews.

Robbie is no exception; he leads a few underlings responsible for the safety of Xin Yidunweier Shequ and its surrounding areas.

Unexpectedly, another gunfight erupted tonight; no one knows how many members of the Mexican Gang came over.

Soon after, the gunfire ceased, followed by the screeching of tires—apparently, the Mexican Gang had already left.

Roger exhaled slightly in relief.

"Those damn bastards."

He lay back down on the mat and fell into sleep.

The moment he opened his eyes the next day, he found new information flashing before him.

【Intel: Terrifying Gift】

【This morning, a community resident discovered a basket of vividly red "Sugar-frosted Apples" and a peculiarly shaped kite near Xin Yidunweier Shequ. At first glance, they appeared flawless; however, when the witness curiously approached, the glistening "sugar glaze" seemed to writhe faintly, as if countless tiny flesh buds were breathing. The witness was terrified out of their wits, claiming it was the work of a demon, and fled in panic. Given the urgency, investigators must uncover the truth within one hour.】

【Reward after investigation: Bronze Coin of the Ancient God *1, $100】

"Apples? A kite?"

Roger was puzzled, unsure why these two objects had sent community residents fleeing in terror.

Yet he did feel a subtle premonition—that these things were somehow connected to the gang feud.

Out of caution, he slipped the Glock into his waistband, then stepped out of the garage and got into the driver's seat of the car.

The Highlander's windshield had been replaced yesterday, costing him two hundred dollars, which pained him deeply.

That was equivalent to the reward for providing a headline clue.

Roger cursed the Mexican Gang viciously in his mind, pressed the accelerator, and began searching along the neighborhood.

In fact, the location mentioned in the intelligence was not hard to find.

At the northernmost edge of the community, a group of gang members had gathered, their faces grim, staring at the same direction.

Roger pulled over and approached slowly.

The gang members, upon seeing him, frowned and placed their hands on their waists.

"Who are you!" asked a lean black man with dirty dreadlocks.

"Where's Robbie?" Roger opened the pocket watch hanging around his neck and spoke up.

Upon hearing "Robbie," the gang member paused, then pursed his lips: "You know Robbie?"

"We're on good terms," Roger explained. "We're friends."

The black man walked over and extended his fist.

Roger bumped fists with him: "Are you Crips? I live in this community, but I've never seen you before."

"Of course. We were based on Tanton Avenue, rarely come here. But I admire Robbie—he's a good kid," said the dreadlocked black man.

Roger nodded, then looked toward the area surrounded by gang members: "What happened over there? Can I take a look?"

"I'd advise you not to, but... alright, come over," the dreadlocked man hesitated, then led Roger forward.

As Roger stepped into the crowd and followed their gaze to the corner, every word died in his throat.

"Holy shit!"

The air was thick with a nauseatingly sweet, putrid stench—not merely the odor of rotting trash, but a grotesque blend of blood and some biological fluid fermenting.

In this suffocating silence, something stood motionless in the shadows.

It was a common white woven basket, once a symbol of blessing and recovery, now transformed into an altar.

Upon the basket, neatly stacked were a pile of round, peeled "apples." They displayed a sickly translucent pinkish flesh tone, gleaming creepily under the sunlight, piled one atop another.

But more horrifying still: on the smooth fruit surfaces, thick, knotted layers of white "syrup" were slowly writhing. The "syrup" seemed to possess its own will, oozing out from within the "apples," trickling slowly along their curved surfaces, hanging at the basket's edge, on the verge of dripping.

Swarms of green-headed flies, as if summoned, surged like dark clouds. These greedy creatures rushed forward, crawling, wriggling, and feeding on the viscous substance, emitting a grating, rasping sound.

Roger felt his stomach churn violently, a nameless terror spreading through his mind.

He quickly averted his gaze, yet noticed beside the basket stood a strangely shaped kite.

The kite was made of pale black leather, forcibly stretched into a twisted triangular shape by long bamboo rods.

Dense, ugly stitches crawled across it, sewing together pieces of leather of varying sizes. But perhaps due to insufficient material, the leather was pulled taut, making its fine pores clearly visible under the sunlight.

When Roger saw these details and realized the exact materials of the apples and the kite, he suddenly felt a strange mental dizziness.

At that moment, the skin on the kite seemed to come alive, rising and falling gently with the breeze; the pores in the man's eyes widened into countless tiny holes, as if silently screaming and weeping.

The previously blurred white "syrup" on the basket now became horrifyingly clear—thousands of flesh worms writhed, intertwined, and gnawed at the pink "fruits."

They seemed to be evolving.

In mere seconds, fleshy heads pushed out pairs of compound eyes, then mouthparts and wings tore through the skin, followed by the buzzing of flapping wings—sharp, like piercing tinnitus.

Instantly, a powerful wave of dizziness struck Roger; he felt the ground soften and become sticky, as if trying to drag him into the bloody swamp below, choking him.

Just as he sank into this hallucination, unable to break free, gunfire erupted around him.

"Pop! Pop! Pop!"

Roger's consciousness was yanked back, re-anchored to its origin.

He turned his head and saw the gang members raising their pistols, firing wildly into the sky—as if using this method to mourn their fallen comrade.

"I'll kill every last one of those damn Mexicans!"

"Skin them alive! Cut off their heads!"

"This is an act of defiance. If we let this slide today, there will be no Crips in Seattle!"

Watching the men burn with righteous fury, Roger suddenly remembered something, his expression darkening as he turned to the dreadlocked Black man.

"Where's Robbie?"

"Is he among them?!"

Though their friendship was shallow, Roger thought Robbie was a good kid. At least a young man who protected his friends and neighbors shouldn't die so horribly.

The dreadlocked Black man pointed angrily at the kite in the corner: "Last night we went to war with the Mexican Gang. We never expected Robbie, injured in the leg, would be captured alive. They wanted to peel him alive as punishment."

"Though we arrived in time to save him, Robbie's skin was still partially stripped away—right there."

"Shit."

"Wouldn't die but lose a layer of skin"—he hadn't realized this phrase wasn't just metaphorical in Meilijian; it was literally true.

Roger felt his nerves under brutal strain, his temples throbbing, a rage brewing inside him.

But he showed nothing, silently committing these two things to memory.

【【Terrifying Gift】intelligence investigation completed】

【You witnessed a horrifying scene: SAN Value -10, Spirit Vision +3】

【Reward obtained: Ancient God's Bronze Coin ×1, $100】

【Due to excessive one-time SAN Value loss, you entered a brief hallucinatory state】

No wonder he'd just slipped into hallucinations—it was because he'd lost too much SAN Value at once.

Ignoring the intelligence, Roger took a deep breath and turned to the dreadlocked Black man: "Where did those Mexican devils come from?"