Cthulhu America, I can see the kill line.

Kong Jiu did not take the stack of money that Anderson pushed towards him. Instead, he looked at Anderson incredulously, as if he had heard some illogical joke.

"Why isn't the Bloodthorn Gang running its proper relief station enhancement product business? Why are they funding relief efforts instead?"

This wasn't meant as sarcasm; in his mind, the Bloodthorn Gang was a legitimate, powerful gang in the lower city.

The eldest brother, Grob, also known as the "Blue Ice Warlock," is a renowned potion concoctionist.

These people usually make a living by selling drugs to harm people. Why would they suddenly have a kind heart and want to save people?

Anderson saw through Kong Jiu's doubts at a glance and said calmly, "Kong, the Bloodthorn Gang is more complicated than you think."

He didn't explain much, but simply took out a scroll from his pocket and spread it on the table.

That roll of paper was clearly not ordinary paper; it had the texture and thickness of animal leather.

Judging from the arrangement of the pores, Kong Jiu could roughly tell that it was either pigskin or human skin.

A notice was written on it in dark red bloodstains:

"My friend Oscar, in life, was sworn enemies of enhancement drugs. After his death, his soul returned to the sea of ​​chaos. The Purple Light Church, inspired by him, vows to wipe out every den of drugs in Hills. I swear in the name of Bishop Farah Jokos of the Purple Light!"

Oscars? That name sounds familiar.

Wait, is the Purple Light Cult going to sweep away the poison?

Kong Jiu's pupils contracted slightly, and his eyes involuntarily widened a few degrees.

The largest, most vicious, and most terrifying cult in the Lower City District is actually launching a campaign to eliminate its enhancers?

Kong Jiu was secretly delighted, but with Anderson present, he could only remain calm and not show his anger.

"Those madmen with eight-pointed stars printed on their foreheads,"

Anderson's usually stern face finally cracked into a sinister expression. "I don't know what went wrong, but last night they suddenly massacred the shelter, leaving no one alive."

Bloodbath at the aid station?

Kong Jiu couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

The shelter is a unique "relief" place in the downtown area where homeless people can go to receive a minimum amount of food or temporarily seek shelter from the cold.

But more importantly, the place claims to distribute a fixed amount of booster every day in order to "alleviate the suffering of the unemployed."

More fortifiers than food.

Given that it was sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, Kong Jiu could understand this behavior very well.

I understand, but once you get your hands on that enhancer, the free amount you get won't be enough to quench your thirst very quickly.

Therefore, the shelter was essentially a den of iniquity, offering no real relief but instead littered with corpses.

Unfortunately, the shelter was funded by a pharmaceutical company, and the bodies were handled by designated personnel.

When Kong Jiu went there to collect the corpses, he could only find the scraps.

Moreover, the goods that are collected are often riddled with pinholes and have excessive levels of reinforcing agent residue.

Let alone using it as a teaching aid, even if it were given to Professor Jack for experiments, he would be somewhat disgusted.

Therefore, Kong Jiu rarely went to the relief station to collect goods.

That place was actually massacred by cultists.

Kong Jiu was shocked and pressed for an answer: "Really, not a single survivor was left?"

Anderson shook his head, his voice low: "A few human skin leaflets, a pile of minced meat, and nothing else that can breathe."

Kong Jiu clicked his tongue in speechlessness.

"In that case, it's only a matter of time before the Bloodthorn Gang is attacked by the Purple Light Cult?"

Su Fu, who was standing to the side, also spoke up.

These were very blunt words, but Anderson could only nod.

"But what does this have to do with helping refugees?" Kong Jiu was still puzzled.

Anderson's burly face immediately showed a troubled expression, and he scratched his face helplessly.

"My elder brother said... We can't defeat the Purple Light Sect, and we can't keep our customers. We might as well stop the enhancement agent business for now and avoid the storm."

"The money comes from the refugees themselves; we'll help them get through the winter, and once the Purple Light Cult's bloodlust subsides, we'll make further plans next year. These people might even be potential customers."

Clearly, not only Kongo and Suf, but Anderson himself didn't quite believe this explanation, and his tone was strained when he said it.

This reason is so lame that it sounds like a hastily made-up excuse.

But who exactly is Grob, the leader of the Bloodthorn Gang?

He's a ruthless killer who doesn't blink an eye and sells methamphetamine without haggling over prices. He's a notorious character. How could he suddenly have a change of heart and want to save people? It's even more unbelievable than the Purple Light Cult's anti-drug campaign.

Upon hearing this, Su Fu frowned even more deeply, a suppressed anger rising on his face.

He pushed the money back at Anderson, his voice strained and harsh:

"The Prophet's Church cannot be a place for you to sell enhancement agents, Mr. Anderson. You should take this money back."

The incident happened suddenly, and Su Fu was unaware that Kong Jiu already had a plan to obtain supplies. His decisive refusal of the funds demonstrates his firm resolve.

Anderson, however, was not annoyed. He resumed his usual cold demeanor and said calmly, "Don't worry, old man, no one can sell enhancement agents in the Church District. This rule is not only the Bloodthorn Gang's, but no pharmacist dares to disobey it."

Kong Jiu had heard of this rule, but since he was not from the lower city, he did not investigate it further.

In his mind, the Prophet Church was a rare haven of peace in the lower city, but he never thought about why it was so.

Upon hearing this, Su Fu's expression softened slightly, and he turned his questioning gaze to Kong Jiu.

Clearly, Suf had left the decision of whether or not to accept the money to himself.

Kong Jiu didn't touch the money; he stood up.

"The money is not necessary."

He said.

"The mutton soup supply will be doubled. If your boss really wants to do good, why not help me fend off those other gangs that come looking for trouble?"

Lamb soup is nothing special, and Kong Jiu could easily supply it for a month by paying out of his own pocket.

The key point is that if other gangs find out about the relief efforts, it could cause a lot of trouble.

Anderson gave a wry smile.

"Kong, at least this winter, no gang should be able to stop you from doing good deeds."

Kong Jiu was taken aback, a look of confusion flashing across his eyes.

"You'll soon find out why."

Anderson offered no explanation, leaving only those words before turning and leaving without even taking the stack of money.

Seeing that Anderson had left, Kongjiu took the opportunity to tell Sophie about his plan to get more funding from Professor Jack.

He proposed that those who were deemed beyond saving and on the verge of death should be taken away in exchange for the supplies needed by the survivors.

Su Fu's face clearly showed signs of struggle.

After all, he didn't know that Kong Jiu could see other people's "kill line," and this behavior was obviously inhumane.

But trusting Kong Jiu's character, he finally nodded and made a concession.

Subsequently, Kong Jiu used a hearse to transport three young people whose heads were already marked with a countdown to death, and drove them to Hills University Hospital.

The heater in the carriage hummed softly, and the three people gradually stopped breathing amidst the warm, bumpy ride, their faces as calm as if they had simply fallen asleep.

When Professor Jack received the three young bodies that had just died, his eyes lit up with a terrifying intensity.

He enthusiastically summoned his students, quickly pushed the gurney into the laboratory, and even before the door closed, his excited commands could still be heard.

Holding the $90,000 in his hand, Kong Jiu was in a daze for a moment.

But immediately, he loaded up the dozens of cotton-padded coats and thermal plastic sheets he had purchased and drove straight to the church.

Watching those refugees, their bloodshot faces and huddled in the cold wind, put on thick clothes and wrap their trembling bodies in plastic sheets, a subtle warmth welled up in Kong Jiu's chest.

Su Fu bowed deeply to him, and at that moment, Kong Jiu felt an indescribable sense of self-redemption.

Perhaps my hands are stained with blood, and the money I earn is tainted with decay, but as long as these people can survive this winter, that's enough.

As he watched the refugees helping each other button their clothes and stretch plastic sheets, a long-lost sense of relief rose in his heart, when a piercing telephone ring shattered the brief tranquility.

It was a call from the police station.

Kong Jiu gave a cold laugh, and could even guess what the other person was going to say.

He pressed answer, and the other party's urgent voice pierced his ears:

"Hey! Kong Jiu! A massacre has occurred at the Lower City shelter! Oh my god, we're short-staffed forensic doctors, you need to come quickly!"

Before the sneer had faded, he shook his head helplessly.

Even the gangsters knew the news earlier than these stupid cops; Amerigo's efficiency in handling official business is ridiculously absurd.

He couldn't help but think of Li Yingying, wondering how things were going. If it weren't for her help, he would probably still be struggling with the visa issue.

Thinking of this, he spoke calmly into the microphone:

"Okay, I'm coming."