My American magical life
Chapter 23 - 23 23 What a Beautiful Scroll of Liberty and Democracy

23: Chapter 23 What a Beautiful Scroll of Liberty and Democracy 23: Chapter 23 What a Beautiful Scroll of Liberty and Democracy As is well known, America has a long history of vibrant organized crime.

For example, the numerous gangs that dominated the West over a hundred years ago.

Then, at the beginning of the 20th century, with the diversification of immigration, rose the Italian Mafia and Chinese gangs.

In recent decades, more prominent ones have been the Russian and Mexican gangs.

Beyond these internationally known crime syndicates, active across various films and television dramas, America has many more, countless small regional gangs.

They may not be very well-known, but they are widely dispersed across the regions of America.

However, all these vibrant organizations have nothing to do with hobos.

Hobos are trash that even the gangs look down upon.

The reason Cheng Daqi dared to strike was also because of this.

He would never rashly pay the price for impulse, and his action this time was after careful thought.

Given the living standards of those queuing for relief in Kernor, at best, one is a small fry.

Their stature might seem large, but it’s nothing but outward bluster.

The real tough black guys wouldn’t be found on Red Street.

Cheng Daqi indeed dreaded these dark-skinned high-class elites, but dread didn’t mean running away.

Especially when trouble comes knocking at his door.

Running away would only expose his cowardice, and a cowardly Asian on the streets would only face endless trouble!

He didn’t really plan to kill the black guy, either.

That would be too worthless.

A cheap life, too worthless.

What’s scarier is,

American lords love nothing more than a criminal illegal immigrant.

When an illegal immigrant commits a crime, the crime is considered even graver.

The lords can rightfully send you to a private prison to be a slave worker for life!

Many domestic public intellectuals, I don’t know if they’re stupid or malicious, actually whitewash America’s private prisons.

Too naive.

Knowing the consequences of murder, Cheng Daqi wouldn’t joke with his future.

“Thank you, Sani.”

Taking the small knife from Sani’s hand, he smiled and said thank you to Sani.

It was a common fruit knife, just over ten centimeters long – after all, anything longer wouldn’t be convenient to carry around.

Cheng Daqi fiercely yanked Kernor’s head.

“Listen, my name is Chan, Jackie Chan’s Chan, Jackie Chan, our kung fu master, you know?”

Pressing the blade against Kernor’s face, Cheng Daqi spoke ominously.

“My master taught me, if someone offends you, you need to forgive them once, because they are a child of God.

Tell me, are you a child of God?”

The bystanders were witnessing Chinese kung fu in real life for the first time.

“He’s from Hua Country!

He used Hua Country kung fu!”

“He must be Jackie Chan’s son, only Jackie Chan’s son could knock down such a beefy guy in seconds.”

“You’re an idiot, he said he has a master, a master in Hua Country is like our father, his kung fu must be learned from the Hua Country Godfather!”

“Will he let Kernor go?

To be honest, Kernor is a son of a b*tch, but he shouldn’t just die like that, he’s done nothing.”

“F**k, what do you mean he’s done nothing, he offended that lady!

You’re just like Kernor, also a son of a b*tch.”

“F**k, you say that again?”

“Sh*t, you’re nothing but a b*stard crawling out of a b*tch’s a**!”

The spectators ran through the complete process of a Red Street street fight with just a few sentences.

The crowd was thrilled.

Even some hobos were calling 911, summoning the police.

Don’t get it wrong, they weren’t hoping to see the police come to enforce the law.

They just wanted to see a bigger spectacle, to see more street fights, preferably with the police getting involved.

That’s all.

As for the shelter staff, they had already dialed the emergency number, but they knew that it would take at least seven to eight minutes for the police to arrive.

They were genuinely worried about a violent crime happening, but were indeed powerless to do anything.

All the excitement belonged to others, Kernor felt like every second was an eternity.

He swore that if he survived, he would become the most devout believer.

If he survived, he would be willing to kiss the priest’s ass with his lips.

God!

Flickers of his past life crossed his mind, and he wanted to go home.

He so regretted saying all those excessive words to his mother.

He so regretted wasting his time, not going to zero-dollar shops, leading him to this shelter for food.

If he hadn’t come to the shelter for food, he wouldn’t have encountered that damn yellow-skinned monkey.

His biggest regret was not having slept with more big-bootied Cuban, Mexican, Venezuelan, Colombian girls.

He didn’t want to die!

The cold blade slowly dragged across his cheek, and Kernor’s neck was twisted uncomfortably by Cheng Daqi.

While being pulled, he was also being restrained on the ground by a knee, a position that was extremely painful, yet he dared not move an inch.

He couldn’t breathe and had no strength to resist.

The words of Cheng Daqi were like salvation from heaven; he saw the hope of living.

At this moment, he wanted to nod but couldn’t move; he could only whimper and plead.

“YES!

YES!

GOD BLESS YOU!”

Hearing the conversation between the two, Sani breathed a sigh of relief.

Thankfully.

Thankfully, Cheng Daqi wasn’t impulsive, not killing him meant at most a two-day lock-up.

California was short on police, and the ‘minor offenses’ of illegal immigrants wouldn’t even have much consequence.

The police station?

No!

The homeless person just felt like it was home.

“But I don’t like listening to my master’s words, otherwise I wouldn’t have run away to America as an illegal immigrant.

Your name is Kernor, right?”

Sani’s relief didn’t last two seconds.

Cheng Daqi’s words closed the gates of heaven for Kernor.

He didn’t know if he could survive.

Kernor struggled to breathe, but it felt like the air just wouldn’t reach his lungs.

The black man was about to stop breathing.

“PLEASE, PLEASE…”

Seeing Kernor nearly crushed into unconsciousness, Cheng Daqi eased up with his knee.

Playing was playing, a ruckus was a ruckus, but killing was out of the question for him.

“Kernor, listen, you’ve offended my companion, and I need you to give me a reason to let you go.”

The voice of the ‘Yellow Demon’ was soft, but to Kernor, it felt like it spelled his doom in the next moment.

“After all, the disciples of our sect, you can think of them as believers, whenever our sect’s believers make a move, it must end with a life taken.”

It wasn’t that Cheng Daqi was fooling Kernor; people in America really believed this stuff, especially those at the bottom, a significant portion of whom were extremely anti-intellectual.

They weren’t naturally unintelligent, but there were masters who couldn’t bear to see them be so.

After all, America’s lead pipes supplied most parts of the country.

The American masters were so kind, offering free help to the poor to increase their blood lead levels, matching their hardships with appropriate intelligence.

(In early December 2023, news erupted in America with public outrage when the price of a drug controlling blood lead levels skyrocketed by thirty times.

Writing this book is really quite fun.)

You’re the serial killer from the movies, right?

Eastern kung fu is too terrifying!

What reason should I use?

Reason!

Reason!

Reason!

Damn it, F**K the reason!

Kernor’s brain was racing; he absolutely couldn’t think of a reason.

He could feel his heart throbbing violently with tension, he took deep breaths, desperate for an answer.

The way Cheng Daqi was now releasing then threatening to kill again made it impossible for Kernor to think straight.

Sani’s heart was about to burst out as well.

She was offended, she drew her knife, she roared with force, just like always, nothing different.

She wasn’t fierce, she just wanted to survive.

But today, she didn’t need to roar.

Cheng Daqi said nothing.

No hesitation, no compromise.

This new neighbor, who had not lived here for long, just rushed over like that.

The young black girl was moved by Cheng Daqi’s courage.

Was it gratitude?

Concern?

Or something else?

Sani didn’t know the answer to the question.

She only knew that now she wasn’t worried about Cheng Daqi killing anymore.

She watched Cheng Daqi with concern, pondering how they would escape after the murder.

The dusk of Saint Rodu had already arrived, and dusk is the beginning of night.

The streets of America at night do not welcome the weak.

The light of the setting sun was orange-red.

The orange-red light shone on the asphalt of Red Street, on the red brick walls on both sides of the street.

Red as blood.

An Asian man pressing down on a black strongman.

A nervous black girl clutching her chest, watching the two men.

The surrounding homeless were drawn away by a new, ongoing, more intense and equally matched street fight.

In just a moment, the spectators had already forgotten about Cheng Daqi and Kernor.

The shelter’s security had no intention of rushing out to maintain order; armed with riot shields, they vigilantly stood at the shelter’s entrance, protecting the staff distributing dinner.

What a beautiful painting of freedom and democracy.

This was just, just another ordinary day in America.