Cthulhu America, I can see the kill line.

"Sean, did you know your godfather almost died for you?!"

"I'm sorry, Grandpa, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."

The teacher's sobs and Chad's reprimands entered my ears.

Kong Jiu, supporting his throbbing head, shakily propped himself up.

"Brother Chad, didn't I tell you not to hit or scold the kids..."

He leaned against the bed, rubbed his eyes, and his voice was weak.

"Oh my god, Jiu Jiu, you're awake! Sean, quick, bring the fish soup!"

"Grandpa, let me check on Daddy first—Daddy, are you alright?"

Old Chad and Little Chad's voices drew closer.

"Damn, my head still hurts a bit."

Kong Jiu rubbed his eyes and opened them.

He recognized the room; it was Old Chad's house.

Snowflakes were falling outside the window, but it was still quite warm inside.

A tall, burly, red-necked white man and a little boy with red, tear-filled eyes stood by the bed, looking at him with concern.

It's old Chad and young Chad, a grandfather and grandson.

It seems that I wasn't killed by the psychic's counterattack; perhaps my psychic endurance is quite extraordinary?

Wait, what's that?

A white line, like a cotton thread, lay across the heads of the old man and the young man.

The white line is not full; at the right end, a small piece is clearly missing, leaving only an empty, blurry shadow.

On the right third of the way, there is a bright red, irritating diagonal bar.

This is... a health bar?

Or is it a Dark Souls-style health bar?

It's so hard to understand. Why not just use a simple and clear red round health bar like a pineapple?

"Old Chad, those new Santa hats you two are wearing are pretty interesting, aren't they?"

Kong Jiu forced a smile and teased, trying to ease the tension as much as possible: "Want one for me too?"

Hoffman Chad frowned and raised his hand to touch the top of his head.

He didn't touch anything.

Old Chad looked puzzled and said, "Hey, what are you talking about? What Santa hat?"

Kong Jiu was taken aback, got up from the bed, and reached out to grab old Chad's head.

Five fingers pierced through the thin blood bar and grasped at air.

Kong Jiu's face froze.

He seemed somewhat unwilling, so he half-squatted down and waved at his godson, Chad, above his head.

Five fingers still passed through, but there was nothing there.

Could it be that…

A sense of foreboding rose in Kong Jiu's heart, and he slowly raised his head.

really.

There's a health bar above my head too.

"A generous gift to express my gratitude..."

Kong Jiu closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and felt his body go weak.

"Brother Chad, it seems the psionic energy has had some effect on me. I'm feeling a bit dizzy or hallucinating."

"Sit down, Jiu Jiu, you need to rest."

Old Chad helped Kong Jiu sit back on the bed, then turned to young Chad and said, "Sean, go heat up the fish soup and bring it over. It's fish soup made according to your godfather's method, by simmering the fish bones in hot water. Go quickly."

Little Chad ran out of the room in response.

"Damn it, the security situation in Midtown is getting worse and worse. When the cops brought you and Sean back unconscious yesterday, my heart skipped a beat!"

Old Chad recounted the events of last night with lingering fear.

After Kong Jiu lost consciousness due to the psionic backlash, the police initially intended to take him to a clinic.

But after checking the household registration of this person with an Asian appearance, it was discovered that he was just an international student with less than a few months left on his five-year student visa.

Several police officers immediately concluded that Kong Jiu definitely could not afford the exorbitant medical bills, let alone receive emergency treatment.

So they simply took the unconscious Kong Jiu to the Carnation Community, which was directed by Little Chad, and dumped him in the security office.

The cops also stole two hundred dollars from the ground.

Fortunately, the person on duty in the security room happened to be old Chad.

Upon seeing his unconscious friend and grandson get out of the police car, he was shocked and hurriedly carried Kong Jiu home.

"Jiujiu, those cops checked your household registration and said your student visa only has a few months left. If it expires, you might be deported as an illegal immigrant."

Old Chad looked at Kong Jiu with deep concern.

Clearly, this redneck didn't want his friend from the East to be treated like an illegal immigrant and driven to the downtown area.

Upon hearing this, Kong Jiu's heart sank.

Having been in this land for five years, he had almost forgotten about visas.

If he could stay for five years and then be sent back to his hometown, he could accept it, and might even be quite happy about it.

The problem is that, to his knowledge, due to the existence of the "Iron Curtain," the United States of America has not signed any extradition treaties with the outside world.

The Iron Curtain is a storm belt that encircles the entire American continent.

Only the most experienced captains or pilots have the chance to pass through the Iron Curtain and safely arrive at or leave this land.

However, it is clear that the bureaucrats of Amerigo would not hire these highly skilled individuals at high salaries simply to deport illegal immigrants.

Kong Jiu felt increasingly uneasy as he thought about it.

"Visa? There are only three months left, damn it."

He lowered his head and murmured.

Right now, he has three paths.

First, flee to the lower city and become an unregistered resident.

With his skills and connections, he could probably do quite well in the slums.

However, he had received countless corpses in the operating room, many of which belonged to people in the slums who thought they were "doing well".

The downtown area is rife with additives, gang fights are constant, and there are more cult leaders than cockroaches in the sewers.

Human life is sometimes worth less than a piece of bread.

Countless blue-collar and IT professionals, once unemployed and crushed by car and mortgage payments, fall into slums. Within just a few months, they are wrapped in black plastic bags and sent to the autopsy room.

That's a lawless place where there isn't even a police station!

Going to the lower city center isn't a matter of dignity; it's a matter of survival.

Of course, there is a second way: face the storm head-on.

There are indeed human traffickers in the area; as long as you pay enough, they can get through the Iron Curtain and bring people from outside into Amerigo.

This is why there is a constant stream of illegal immigrants on this land.

But Kong Jiu had once heard a rhyme about human traffickers from his colleagues at the police station:

"Sending supplies inwards, five out of ten trips are wasted; sending them outwards, not a single one can leave!"

Amerigo is like a walled city; those inside want to get out, but those outside want to get in.

The snake's head may indeed be able to return to its homeland in this world by following the trail of the snake.

But that is absolutely the most desperate situation, and should never be chosen unless absolutely necessary.

If both paths are blocked, then only one option remains.

Kong Jiu waved his hand: "Thanks, Brother Chad. I'll contact the professor and ask the international student office to extend my visa."

Now, he is a 4+4 graduate student, so if his professor intervenes, it wouldn't be difficult for him to extend his legal stay on his visa.

By fawning over and obsequiously ingratiating oneself with the professor, one can still make a living if one has some connections.

To everyone's surprise, old Chad shook his head.

"Jiujiu, I know you have connections and are quite tactful, but..."

"But what?" Kong Jiu sensed the hidden meaning in old Chad's words.

"But you know how slow Amerigo Veterans' administrative processes are, don't you?"

Old Chad expressed his concerns, asking bluntly, "Three months—is it really possible to get the legal overstay approval?"

A surge of passion welled up in my heart.

Kong Jiu seemed to hear the sound of his blood pressure soaring.

It’s over.

It's all over.

He works in a place that collaborates with the police department, so he knows all too well how efficient those people are.

Sometimes, front desk officers would rather watch a Shakira concert videotape all morning and eat a whole dozen donuts than fill out a form!

"With Confucius and Mencius above me, what should I do..."

Kong Jiu held his head and whispered, clearly aware of the fatal problem, and was on the verge of a mental breakdown.