Chapter 2562

Schiller nodded, not overly surprised. In fact, he had previously wondered why a transnational drug trafficking organization would tattoo all its members with the same mark; wasn't that equivalent to registering their crimes under their real names?

If they were only trafficking drugs before, that would be one thing, but now they were clearly trying to lie low in a certain city. At a time like this, such a unique tattoo with strong Mexican cultural flair was equivalent to an ID card hanging around an agent's neck.

But if this wasn't something they wanted to be tattooed with, then it made sense. They were boarding the *Great West Continent* and scurrying around Cat Getan City; it was very likely they were trying to find a way to deal with the tattoo issue.

"What can the curse of the Ancestor God do?"

"They won't die immediately, but they will eventually die, and they will die a miserable death." Martin grinned and said, "The method of death isn't fixed, but it will definitely be extremely tragic. No one can escape it."

Schiller nodded. In any case, all the members of the Penitence Cartel he had known had died very miserable deaths.

"They had been anxious for a long time, knowing the key to breaking the curse was with me, so they searched for me like madmen in Guazhou. I was still young then, and there weren't enough people to sacrifice. I didn't have the powerful strength my mother had, so I could only find a way to hide."

"But one time I slipped up, and they chased me to my hiding place. I almost died; it was the Revolutionary Army that saved me."

"I won't lie to you, my mother used to have some connections with local drug lord bosses." Martin shrugged and said, "Basically, the drug lord would kidnap his enemies, my mother would offer them to the Ancestor God, the drug lord would quietly eliminate his enemies, and my mother would gain power."

"But I definitely didn't tell the Revolutionary Army about this part. At that time, I thought they were just using justice as a front. If they knew what I had done, they would have definitely executed me first."

"You had already performed sacrifices by then, right?"

"Of course. The Penitence Cartel isn't full of skilled people either; haven't you already seen the idiots among them? Since they were going to die anyway, I might as well use them to trade for some power."

"What changed you?"

"It's not really a change. Actually, I've always thought this way. Maybe it's because I'm different from most of the villagers. I went to the city, went to school, and my grades were quite good. If it weren't for what happened, I might have been able to get into a university."

"I've always thought that bunch of villagers were stupid, every village was stupid. Those drug lord bosses only knew how to throw their weight around in their own territories and never knew how to unite."

"They worked hard for a year, and most of the money was handed over to those masters up top who didn't do a damn thing. If they united, had people, and had guns, why would they still need to pay others?"

"So what the Revolutionary Army is doing suits my taste. I don't care if they grow food or drugs; in short, they don't let people who don't work take money, and you get paid for how much work you do. I think this is the greatest justice in the world, isn't it?"

Looking at Martin's bright eyes, Schiller knew he was a quite intelligent person. He didn't even need any theory to inspire him; he could summarize a simple theory of awakening from the patterns of life himself.

You can't say this theory is too simple or imperfect, because when those complex theories are summarized, they are nothing more than this principle. How is distribution according to work not communism?

"Plus, they really treated me well." Martin thought for a moment and said, "They said they could help me come to America, but they didn't want me to work odd jobs anymore. If possible, they wanted to help me pay for school."

"Then why didn't you go?"

"To be honest, I'm not used to owing others. Besides, once I'm in America, where can't I make money? Gold is everywhere here."

Schiller smiled and looked at him, saying, "That's certainly true for you, but the Penitence Cartel still found you."

"Yeah, after all, my mother isn't the only witch in Mexico. The Penitence Cartel's influence isn't small; they can always find someone who understands."

"I suspect they found a peer of my mother's and thought of a way to track my whereabouts."

"So that's why you gave me that crystal ball. It looked like you wanted the power inside the crystal ball to protect me, but in reality, it was just to lead the drug traffickers chasing you to me."

"But you were already looking for them, weren't you? This is how I provide you with intelligence. You don't even have to go looking; they deliver themselves to your door. Shouldn't I ask for a bonus?"

Schiller found himself increasingly appreciating this sharp-witted young man. He possessed a strange vitality; he looked even more "Cat Getan" than the teenagers of Cat Getan.

"They've been chasing you; what do you plan to do?"

"I've sacrificed quite a few people back and forth. The Ancestor God is very generous; the power he bestowed is enough for me to deal with them. Moreover, he is especially satisfied with this sacrifice. If he could speak English, he would probably praise you as a great artist."

Schiller's smile deepened; he clearly enjoyed such flattery. He said, "I think you're using me to praise yourself. Although I'm responsible for the skinning and stitching, those Day of the Dead patterns were designed by you. I think you could go study in an art department."

"That's what I think too." Martin immediately became excited and said, "The tuition at Cat Getan University is too expensive. I'm planning to go to a community college. What do you think of the sculpture department?"

Schiller shook his head. Before Martin could show a disappointed expression, Schiller said, "Don't even mention community college; the art department at Cat Getan University isn't actually that great either. Or rather, America is a desert for traditional art."

"By comparison, there is a country whose art academy might be more suitable for you, but it depends on whether you're afraid of the cold."

Martin suddenly froze. His thoughts raced through hundreds of turns, and the dart still hit the bullseye. He slowly opened his mouth and asked, "I haven't asked you what your relationship with the Revolutionary Army is yet..."

"You guess?" Schiller revealed a mysterious smile.

Martin didn't need to guess; Martin could see it on Schiller's face.

He stood up from the sofa, revealing a forced, insincere smile, and even bared a few large teeth. He hurriedly placed the mask on the coffee table in front of him and said.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you so late. I see it's getting late, so maybe I should..."

*Swish! * A flash of black and purple power flickered by. Martin's figure instantly appeared in front of the door, but *Bang! * The door closed.

Martin almost got his nose pinched. His body stiffened, and he turned back, leaning against the door, saying, "Professor, I'm not on the same path as you people. Let's part ways here, how about that?"

"Oh, what path am I on?"

"Aren't you on the same path as the Revolutionary Army... I mean, the Bolsheviks?"

Schiller waved at him, signaling him to come back and sit down. Martin pushed the door, but there was no reaction. He tried to communicate with the Ancestor God's power, but the Ancestor God didn't respond either.

And not long ago, Martin had just watched this man in front of him peel off an almost complete human skin with extremely skillful techniques and stuff another living person inside.

Martin decisively walked over and sat down.

Schiller took a business card out of his pocket, placed it on the coffee table, and pushed it toward Martin, saying, "Let me reintroduce myself: Director of the 11th Bureau of the KGB, Schiller Rodriguez."

Martin's face instantly crumpled into a ball.

"Di... Director, hello."

"I think you can listen to the terms first." Schiller said, "All your assets in the United States and Mexico will remain untouched, but I can introduce you to the Repin Academy of Fine Arts to complete all your studies from undergraduate to doctorate."

"During this period, you won't have any missions; you only need to focus on your studies. Occasionally, you might need to help your hometown solve a little trouble, but you won't need to leave in person."

"I can't do this job..." Martin said with a miserable face, "I'm really not cut out to be an agent, Director."

"But I heard people call you the 'Know-It-All'."

"That's all small-time stuff."

"I'm not expecting you to do anything big either."

Martin's eyes rolled, and he suddenly remembered, "Oh, right, I heard you guys over there advocate materialism, right? But I have faith; my faith in the Ancestor God is particularly firm..."

"Do you know what the 11th Bureau does?"

"Uh, what does it do?"

"It's responsible for all magical affairs in the Soviet Union."

"All the Soviet Union's ma... magical affairs??!!"

Martin felt his worldview collapse.

"If you read more books, you should understand that so-called materialism isn't theoretical scientism, nor is it nihilism. As long as something exists, it can be studied. What's so strange about that?"

Martin still felt it was a bit hard to accept. The expression on his face changed again and again, his features squashed together.

"Currently, there are indeed no magicians of Mexican primitive faith in the Bureau, and we don't know much about this aspect either, but I suspect the Ancestor God isn't easy to deal with, right?"

Martin's complexion slowly changed. He put away that playful, mischievous posture, cautiously sized up Schiller, and said, "It seems you are very knowledgeable about this type of faith."

Schiller nodded.

"Alright, everything has a price." Martin said, "The Ancestor God's power is already very powerful, and we don't need to sacrifice ourselves; we only need to sacrifice others. But just like every curse he casts, all users will die a miserable death before the age of 38."

"Then you don't have much time left."

"Pfft, I'm still young." Although Martin said this, he couldn't hide his worried expression. He said, "My mother tried many ways to escape this curse, which was the main reason she took me away from home, but she ultimately couldn't escape it."

"Then I think you shouldn't mind us studying him."

"But the Ancestor God is very powerful; you must prove that you have the ability..."

Schiller stood up. Martin watched him open the refrigerator's cold storage compartment. Now the refrigerator wasn't working, so the freezer and cold storage were the same. Schiller put all the previously frozen ice packs into the cold storage compartment to maintain the final freshness.

He took out a bag of meat.

The crystal ball in Martin's hand suddenly began to shake crazily. Martin almost couldn't hold onto it. He grabbed the crystal ball and pressed down on it with effort, but the crystal ball still flew up.

*Bang! * It hit the wall and shattered.

Martin was dumbfounded.

He rushed toward the place where the crystal ball shattered, which happened to be next to the refrigerator, and then he watched helplessly as Schiller took out a hoof.

"Come have a late-night snack." Schiller said, "What flavor do you like?"

Martin swallowed his saliva.

"Late-night snack? Is it it or me?"

Martin asked in his heart, because he had already seen the fragmented demon phantom flickering above that hoof.

"Of course it's it." Schiller looked at the hoof that had been roasted by Aisha during the day but hadn't been eaten, and said, "It was a strong little deer when it was alive."

"Strong... indeed, indeed strong."

"What does the Ancestor God say?"

"He says he's had poor health since he was a child."