I searched and fought in America.

Chapter 71 Overturning the Heavens

The car drove smoothly on the road leading to the Ronnie community.

Night had fallen, and the streetlights were sparse. Morris gripped the steering wheel and remained silent for a long time.

He glanced at Rosen in the back seat through the rearview mirror.

The young man leaned back in his chair, looking out the window with a faint smile on his lips.

Morris opened his mouth, then closed it again.

After driving through another intersection, he finally couldn't help but speak up:

"Holy Father."

Rosen looked away and turned to him: "Hmm?"

Morris carefully considered his words and cautiously asked:

"The way you're referring to establishing connections with the powerful and influential... is it through public opinion?"

His voice was soft, but there was a hint of worry in his tone that he couldn't hide.

Rosen looked at him without saying a word.

Morris continued:

"I've lived for almost fifty years. In this country, not many people live to this age. My grandfather died in his twenties, and my father died in his early thirties."

They all died in the streets, by the knives of gangsters, at the hands of people we couldn't afford to mess with.

His voice deepened:

"I was lucky. When I was young, I followed Father Kevin and joined the Iron Claw Gang. At that time, the Iron Claw Gang was thriving, with hundreds of people, territory, and business. I thought I could live a peaceful life."

"Then……"

He didn't continue.

But Rosen knew what he wanted to say.

Then the Iron Claw Gang was defeated.

From hundreds of men to just a dozen, Father Kevin died, and his brothers who followed him also died, leaving only a few old guys clinging to life.

Morris took a deep breath and said:

"Holy Father, it's not that I don't believe in you, it's just that... I've seen too much."

He looked at the road ahead, his voice very soft:

"Using public opinion to make connections with those powerful and influential people, if you just want to make quick money, then there's no problem. Public opinion is just a passing fad; when the wind blows, even pigs can fly. When the wind dies down, the pigs just fall to their deaths."

But if you want to elevate your status and gain the respect of the powerful and wealthy through this method—”

He shook his head:

That was a very stupid thing.

Those people don't treat us like human beings. In their eyes, we are just tools. They give us a bone when they need us, and kick us aside when they don't.

Once you're embroiled in public opinion, your every move is no longer your own. They will exploit you, manipulate you, and push you into the limelight, and then—"

He paused:

"Then you will become cannon fodder in their power struggle."

The carriage was quiet for a few seconds.

Rosen looked at Morris and suddenly smiled.

That smile wasn't mocking, but rather...happy.

This old man was genuinely thinking of him.

"Maurice," he began, "I remember you read quite a few ancient Eastern books with Father Kevin, and you seem to speak Chinese as well, right?"

Morris paused for a moment.

He didn't know why Rosen suddenly asked this, but he nodded nonetheless:

"Yes, Father, Father Kevin really likes Eastern culture. He says there is true wisdom in it. I have learned some things from him. I wouldn't say I'm an expert, but I have read the basic classics."

Rosen nodded and continued to ask:

"Have you ever heard of the Way of Peace? Have you ever heard of the Great Teacher of Virtue?"

Morris paused slightly, taken aback.

He pondered for a moment, then slowly nodded:

"I remember it was a peasant uprising during the Han Dynasty, led by Zhang Jiao, who called himself the 'Great Teacher of Virtue' and founded the Way of Great Peace. He had a famous saying—"

He thought for a moment, then said in somewhat broken Chinese:

"The Azure Heaven is dead, the Yellow Heaven shall rise; in the year of Jiazi, great fortune will come to the world."

Rosen's eyes lit up.

"Yes, that's the sentence."

He leaned back in his chair and looked out the window:

"Maurice, do you know what I think about every time I walk the streets of this city?"

Morris did not respond.

Rosen said to himself:

"I'm thinking, this country, 300 million people, 300 million guns, 300 million guns, Morris, that's a huge amount of firepower! What a massive military force that could be built?"

His voice carried a hint of fanaticism:

"If this were at Tokyo University, this kind of public resentment, this kind of oppression, this kind of despair of not being able to live would have caused countless uprisings long ago."

The Yellow Turban Rebellion, the Huang Chao Rebellion, Li Zicheng, Hong Xiuquan—one after another, they overthrew dynasty after dynasty.

He turned his head and looked at Maurice:

"But here? There's nothing. Those people at the bottom have guns, but they only dare to fire at those weaker than themselves."

Those who are oppressed harbor hatred in their hearts, yet they only dare to weep to God in the church.

Why?

Morris fell silent.

Rosen answered himself:

"Because they have no direction, because they don't know how to resist, because they are firmly tied to their positions by those powerful people through religion, public opinion, and the so-called American Dream."

They need a voice.

They need a voice that can tell them, "You can rebel."

They need a voice to tell them, "You are not alone in your suffering."

We need one—

Rosen paused, a slight smile playing on his lips:

"To let them see the sound of light."

Morris's hand trembled slightly, and the steering wheel wobbled.

He suddenly understood something.

"Holy Father, you mean..."

Rosen did not answer directly, but continued:

"Public opinion is indeed a double-edged sword. When I chose to do this, it meant that I would inevitably become their pawn. They would use my skin color and my so-called 'hero' status to carry out political propaganda for them."

"but--"

His eyes sharpened:

"Countless people will also come to know about our Iron Claw Gang and about me, Rosen, because of this public opinion."

They would flock from all directions like pilgrims.

They'd want to see what kind of person the guy was who risked his life to save someone in the sewers.

They'd like to hear what this so-called hero has to say.

Every word Rosen said struck Morris's heart like a hammer blow:

"If I can turn them all into my followers, into our supporters, then tell me, whose orders should Houston listen to?"

Morris's breath caught in his throat for a moment.

He looked at the young man in the back seat through the rearview mirror.

Those eyes were calm, but beneath that calm lay something that terrified him, a man who had lived for nearly fifty years.

That's ambition.

That wasn't just ordinary ambition—wanting to make more money or take over more territory.

That is--

Their ambition was to uproot the powerful and wealthy.

If the followers of Iron Claw Church could cover all of Houston, if the underprivileged, the minorities, and those disillusioned with the government all became Rosen's supporters.

So, is the Houston election still controlled by those families?

So, will the real king of Houston still be the person sitting in City Hall?

Morris's hands trembled slightly as he gripped the steering wheel.

He didn't know whether he was excited or scared.

"But Father," he tried to keep his voice steady, "those people...those powerful people, they won't stand idly by. They will suppress you, they will slander you, they will do everything they can to bring you down."

Rosen smiled.

"But in their eyes, I'm just an obedient dog!"

Morris felt his head buzz for a moment, and then everything became clear!

No wonder the Father did this, no wonder the Father was willing to be used by them, no wonder, no wonder...

"Father..." He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found his throat dry and couldn't say anything.

Rosen didn't wait for him to speak.

He turned his head and rolled down the car window.

The night wind blew in, ruffling his hair.

He raised his head and looked up at the night sky.

In fact, when discussing how to handle the situation with Mihir and the other survivors, his initial idea was quite simple.

They simply followed the instructions of the municipal government in order to gain their assistance, expand the Iron Claw Gang's territory, and make their business even bigger.

but.

He suddenly remembered the original owner's memories.

That child who wandered the streets since childhood, who fought with stray dogs for food, and who searched for clothes in garbage dumps.

He thought of the survivors in the sewers.

Those who are imprisoned by cults and abandoned by the world, those who would rather die in an explosion than live on.

He thought of the homeless people he saw everywhere.

I think of those rampant gangsters.

It reminds me of those evil cults.

I'm reminded of Riches, the engineer who sold everything to pay for his daughter's medical treatment.

I remember the young mother kneeling in a pool of blood, pleading with her eyes to save her child.

He suddenly felt that he was very cowardly.

That's really cowardly.

He is from Tokyo University.

He grew up under the red flag.

Are kings and nobles born with a special destiny?

This principle is ingrained in his very being.

But what has he been doing since he came to this country?

They live a life of hiding and eking out a living, carefully maneuvering among various forces, only wanting to earn enough money to pay off their debts before making proper progress.

He forgot.

Forgot who you are.

They forgot where they came from.

They forgot what blood flowed in their veins.

But now—

He remembered.

As Rosen gazed at the night sky, the smile on his lips deepened.

He also has a cheat code.

He also has a system.

He also possesses extraordinary powers.

Since that's the case—

Why can't he turn the whole of Houston upside down?

Since that's the case—

Why can't he turn the sky upside down over the whole of Texas, the whole of America?

A night breeze blew in through the car window, carrying a hint of coolness.

But Rosen's heart was warm.

"Maurice".

He suddenly spoke.

Morris immediately replied, "Yes, Father."

Rosen didn't turn around; he continued gazing at the night sky outside the window.

"You say, what if one day, the powerful and wealthy in this country find that the land beneath their feet has begun to crumble, and that the people they rule suddenly no longer listen to them?"

He paused, then chuckled softly:

"What kind of expressions will they have?"

Morris remained silent for a long time.

Then he laughed.

It was a complex smile, containing emotion, awe, expectation, and a hint of fanaticism that he himself was unaware of.

"Father," he said, "I think it must have been wonderful."

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The protagonist's transformation is finished. Next, it's the path of an expansionist tyrant. Hehe, just thinking about it is exhilarating!

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