I searched and fought in America.

The area in front of Iron Claw Recycling Company has been unusually lively these past two days.

Several young people dressed in flashy clothes squatted across the street, taking pictures of the factory gate with their mobile phones.

"Is this the place?" one of the blond-haired men asked.

"Yes, yes, the one they're talking about online, the Chinese guy who saved people is the boss here." Another skinny man lowered his voice, "Look at that sign, Iron Claw Recycling Co., Ltd., you can't go wrong."

The blond-haired man squinted at it for a long time, then clicked his tongue:

"He doesn't look like much, just a junk collector."

"What do you know!" The skinny guy rolled his eyes at him. "That's real skill. He rushed in alone during the explosion and saved more than a dozen people! If you're so capable, why don't you do it yourself?"

The blond-haired man gave an awkward laugh and said nothing more.

Such conversations have been commonplace in the Ronnie community these past two days.

Some came to watch the spectacle, some to conduct interviews, some to ride the wave of popularity, and a few others acting suspiciously, their origins unknown.

Morris stood by the window on the second floor of the recycling plant, looking down at the people peering out, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Which batch is it?" he asked.

The younger brother next to him thought for a moment and said, "This is the third batch today, Father."

Morris paused for a few seconds, then turned around:

"Keep an eye on them, don't let them wander off."

"Yes."

He went downstairs and drove back to Rosen's residence.

The study door remained tightly closed.

After returning home that night, the Father locked himself in his room for two whole days.

During this time, they neither ate nor drank, and made no sound. Only the light shining through the crack in the door told Maurice that the people inside were still busy with something.

Morris stood in the doorway, staring at the closed door, and remained silent for a long time.

He didn't know what the Father was doing inside.

But he knew that what could make the Father so engrossed in his work must be something very important.

He sighed softly and turned to leave.

On the morning of the third day.

People from the municipal government have arrived.

A man in his thirties, wearing a sharp suit, with a professional smile on his face.

"Mr. Morris," he began, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Where is Mr. Rosen? The cooperation matters with the municipal government, as well as the mayor's personal letter to Mr. Rosen, both need to be handled urgently."

Morris stood in the doorway, his expression calm:

"The Father is busy."

"Busy?" The man paused for a moment. "But the public opinion outside has exploded. There have been countless reports about Mr. Rosen these past two days. The mayor hopes that he can come forward as soon as possible and cooperate with us in some publicity."

He paused, took a step forward, and lowered his voice:

"Mr. Morris, are you aware that there are already people organizing a 'pilgrimage' online, saying they want to visit this 'Houston hero' in the Ronnie community? If Mr. Rosen doesn't show up soon, those people might lose control of their emotions."

Morris's brow twitched slightly.

Pilgrimage group?

He recalled what Rosen had said in the car that night: "They will come to the Ronnie community, to us, like a pilgrim."

What the Father said has come true so quickly.

"I know you're in a hurry," Morris said, his tone still calm, "but the Father is really busy. He hasn't come out for two days and two nights, so I don't want to bother him."

"Two days and two nights?" The man's eyes widened. "What was he busy with?"

Morris did not answer.

He just shook his head.

The man was so anxious he kept stamping his feet.

"But, but the mayor is pressuring us! Another press conference is tomorrow, and Mr. Rosen has to be there! Otherwise, the reporters will start writing all sorts of nonsense!"

The voice just fell.

crunch.

The door opened.

They both turned their heads at the same time.

Rosen stood in the doorway.

He was wearing the same clothes as that night, but he looked incredibly energetic, with bright eyes and no sign of fatigue on his face.

The city government officials were stunned.

How can someone go two days and two nights without food or water like this?

"Mr. Rosen!" He immediately went to greet him, his face beaming. "You've finally come out! The mayor asked me to—"

Rosen raised his hand to stop him.

His gaze swept over the official, then returned to Maurice.

"Maurice".

Morris immediately stepped forward: "Yes, Father."

Rosen pulled something out of his pocket.

It was a small white booklet.

On the cover, four characters are written in gold lettering—

The Iron Claw Manual.

He slipped the booklet into Maurice's hand, then turned his head slightly and whispered in his ear:

"From this day forward, the Iron Claw Gang will take the ideas and principles in this booklet as its core principles."

Morris's hand trembled slightly.

He looked down at the booklet in his hand and turned to the first page.

The handwriting is dense, neat, and powerful.

He looked up at Rosen, a complex expression flashing in his eyes.

It turns out that the Holy Father has been these past two days—

That's what we're doing.

The principles of a gang usually take years or even decades to develop. Father Kevin devoted his entire life to writing only the first edition of "The Iron Claw Manual," and he passed away before completing the second edition.

And the Holy Father...

It only took two days.

What Morris didn't know was that this wasn't something Rosen wrote out of thin air.

There is a set of books in this study.

That was a relic left by Father Kevin, a complete set of writings from the Far East, containing all the thoughts of that great man.

Rosen was also stunned when he first saw it, wondering how Kevin had managed to get his hands on this in America.

But now, he is incredibly grateful to have this set of books.

Because this book, even if we look at the entire history of the University of Tokyo, or even the whole world, or even the entire history of humankind, to put it modestly, is one of the top three works of thought.

And now, this book is right in his hands.

All he needed to do was copy the ideas, slightly modify them to better suit the American context and the current situation of the Iron Claws, and that would be more than enough.

However, while the idea is appealing, reality is harsh. In practice, Rosen discovered that even the so-called "modification" might require more than ten years of effort from an average person!

Because this classic text is an extremely complete system of thought, any change could have far-reaching consequences. Moreover, the principles within it clash too sharply with the fundamental character of this country.

In that distant land, divine authority was never the mainstream. People believed that destiny was in their own hands, and that everything in the world ultimately depended on human intervention to change it.

But in this place—

God is supreme.

God is the ultimate judge.

Placing the core ideas of those thoughts here would be utterly rebellious.

Rosen spent an entire day pondering those words.

Change it? How do you change it?

If you remove those core ideas, what's the point of this booklet?

If it's not deleted, won't this booklet be seen as heresy by devout believers if it's distributed?

It wasn't until late the next night that he came to his senses.

No changes.

He didn't change a single word.

There was no time left; he had to come up with a set of ideological guidelines that could be quickly popularized, adapted to the organization's development, and able to unite people's hearts in the shortest possible time.

Otherwise, with the rapid expansion of the gang, all sorts of people will flood into the Iron Claw Gang, and even if it seems to be thriving in the short term, it will eventually become a new cancer.

History has provided too many lessons like this; countless once-glorious organizations have lost their way in the process of expansion.

Now that such a giant's ideas are placed before him, why should he change them?

He wanted to keep all those things.

As for how to get the believers to accept it, Rosen looked at the night outside the window and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

He is a "messenger of God" who wields extraordinary power.

No matter how rebellious those ideas may be, once they come out of his mouth, they become unshakable truth!

Even the Pope has to bow down before him!

As for those who disagree, he wouldn't mind showing them what true "divine punishment" really is!

That witch doll, we haven't used it yet.

Once he understood this, the rest was simple: he just needed to express those ideas in a way that the people of this country could understand.

To convey the truths about "human beings" in the language of "God".