Brass Dragon in the Dragon World

Chapter 188

The situation in Chicago is different from other places. With the lake in the northwest, the city can only develop towards the southeast. Railways stretch out from Chicago like spider feet, connecting all parts of the United States.

The first batch of old residents who lived near the lake became old money in the city. In Chinese, this is called old money, with old qualifications and rich hands, while those newcomers, those poor people, just Able to live in the newly developed southern part.

As a result, the pattern of Chicago being rich in the north and poor in the south, white in the north and black in the south, has been formed. Under the excellent system of the United States, the southern region has been further corrupted, and murders and drug trafficking have emerged endlessly, making Chicago the murder capital of the United States.

But there are always some exceptions, such as the Reverend Clark of the small Coptic church in Chicago's black district, but the Reverend Clark is, like his name, a stocky white male.

Clark is a new pastor in recent months. He is very good-looking, and he really looks somewhat similar to Clark Kent (Superman).

It's unusual to have a white pastor in a black ghetto, but the neighborhood is mostly pious old people who have fought for the city all their lives and ended up living on meager pensions, which is also true for gangsters. There is not much oil and water, so it is still peaceful here.

Those old people also liked the handsome pastor Clark very much, and they were happy to go to the church. After going back and forth, the situation of the small church gradually improved.

"Thank you, Pastor," said an old black man, holding Clark's arm with his own rough hand: "I feel much better."

The old man wiped away his tears, his hands trembling badly: "I was as tall and beautiful as you back then, but now I can't even control my own hands."

"Mr. Walter, you are a good man, and you will definitely go to heaven in the future." Clark comforted the old man.

"Thank you, thank you." The old man stood up tremblingly, and walked out of the church step by step. Behind him, the gentle smile on the pastor's face had disappeared.

Clark wiped his hands in disgust. He hated the job, and if it wasn't for his life, he certainly wouldn't be here.

Once, Clark was a thin little boy who lived in a nursing home. When he saw those old people howling under the torment of aging, he had an idea:
Life is a train, and Clark, he doesn't want to get off.

He longed for immortality, even if it was like a maggot or he would not hesitate, and this idea took root in his heart when he was not yet ten years old.

Clark has always been an eccentric person in high school. He worked hard to study biology and was eager to use technology to satisfy his wishes, but his dream was just the ravings of a madman in the eyes of those scientists.

"Human life is short, and the most important thing is to live a good life. Your life is still very long, isn't it?"

His mentor said this to him. He was a highly respected old professor who had already reached his twilight years. Even if he covered his nose, Clark could ask him about the old man's smell.

So he left the world of science and turned to metaphysics.

At first, it was ancient black magic, the ravings written by medieval alchemists and witches, but Clark soon discovered that those were just false hoaxes.

He has tried witchcraft in Haiti, divine magic in India, and intercourse magic in ancient China, but none of them can make him live longer.

Until he came into contact with the dark web and found a bounty hunter's website, on which he borrowed a commission about disguising as a priest to provide assistance to an organization.

Those people promised that they would show him the real world later, and now, Clark knew what those people said was true, and he was only one step away from success.

He walked into the basement of the church. The last pastor was a nervous old man who built a shelter under the church in order to resist nuclear strikes when he was young.

And now, on the chair in the shelter, a man who lost his right hand was being bound by iron chains. His eyes were burning with golden flames, which was a sign that he was about to turn into a dead waiter.

How strong can a hybrid be?
If the combat power of an ordinary person is one, then the combat power of a mixed race is ten.

But if ordinary people add iron chains, stun guns and sudden sneak attacks, the combat power will be no less than one hundred!
Facing the ruthless sneak attack of his own offline, the half-breed, who was already physically and mentally exhausted, was still hit by the trick and was bound here.

"Let me go, I have a tracker on me, and those people will follow right away." The assassin whose arm was cut off by Ender was dying, his life was about to come to an end, and he was only relying on the blood in his body to hold on.

After discovering the tracker installed by Ender in his body, the assassin did not choose to return to the organization's safe house, but contacted his downline in Chicago, an ordinary person who longed for immortality, that is, Clark.

Originally, such a person was the best tool in the organization to create Deadpool, but now he had to try to get Clark's help.

Obviously, he failed.

"Don't you want to live forever? Don't you desire to evolve?" The mixed race was struggling on the chair, but unfortunately he is not the type that is good at strength, and his speech spirit has long been unable to release: "Let me go, I can give you what you want. everything of."

The mild-mannered Clark took off his clerical robes to reveal a body full of profane tattoos, pentagrams, goat-headed demons and satanic scriptures of evil, the result of his past studies of black magic.

A series of useless tattoos will only bring him trouble.

But he still researched some things, such as the ritual to be performed now.

"Mr. Yellow Eyes, do you know?" Clark dragged the assassin into a pentagram circle: "In the past, those black magicians believed that as long as they devoured the flesh, they could gain vitality."

"Idiot, let me go, it's all nonsense." The assassin struggled.

"No, I tried it," Clark showed his white teeth, "It's very effective."

"That's the psychological effect of his ****, you madman!" The assassin struggled harder, he never thought that this guy was actually a madman.

But it was too late, Clark stepped on the assassin's body, and the stun gun sparked at the opponent's body. After a while of trembling, the assassin was powerless to struggle.

Outside, bells sounded from the horns of the church, covering up the sound in the basement.

What happens when an ordinary person comes into contact with the flesh and blood of dragons or deadpool, Dr. Herzog of Siberia gave the answer with the monsters in his laboratory,
will be twisted into monsters.

Clark's eyes were stained yellow, and madness began to invade his brain. In the darkness, a monster was about to be born
(End of this chapter)