I planted a sacred tree in Tokyo

"Thirteen cultists,"

"all died of traumatic rupture of the carotid artery and excessive blood loss."

In a room full of dried blood, a group of identification personnel wearing white chemical protective suits and holding cameras were recording the scene; then they put the bodies into body bags and took them away, with two middle-aged men in suits standing next to them.

"One shot kills, clean and neat."

"It's hard to imagine what kind of person or existence killed these cultists."

One of the men in suits couldn't help but sigh. He had thick eyebrows, big eyes, a high nose and deep eyes, and a righteous look on his face. He was just short of writing a sentence "I am for everyone, everyone is for me."

Don't look at how much the outside world brags, but as insiders, they know very well that the gap between the so-called "king of soldiers" and "ace spies" and ordinary people will never exceed a dagger.

Even the strongest human in the world can easily be stabbed to death by a gangster!

There is a high wall between bare hands and armed.

Within seven steps, guns are fast and accurate!

However, a strange thing happened in front of them. Someone, let's call him a human, killed more than a dozen cultists with various weapons with a dagger.

Many of these cultists held guns in their hands.

This is almost impossible, unless:

"It's a superhuman,"

another man who was also wearing a suit but was a bit casual gave the answer.

"I have reported it, and the boss will send a 'professional' to deal with it. We will continue to follow up on the previous case."

"Well, we really don't have any good way to deal with these criminals with 'superpowers'."

The serious man in a suit nodded.

He was just an 'ordinary' FBI agent, and it was natural to deal with ordinary criminals.

But if you encounter a 'superhuman', in addition to calling for support as soon as possible, the rest is to tidy up the remains and let yourself die decently.

With the Glock 19M in their holsters, they can't deal with those humanoid monsters.

"Let's go,"

"The rich man is having a party today."

The two FBI members left the bar and drove to Bedford Street in Manhattan.

Soon after, they stopped in front of a busy villa.

"Sir, please show me your invitation."

The meticulous old white male waiter came forward to ask, but what he got was not an invitation, but an open certificate:

"FBI agent,"

"We have an appointment with Mr. Alexander."

"Gentlemen, you should choose another time to visit."

A luxury car drove slowly behind, and the gentlemen and celebrities on it glanced at the two agents with inquiring eyes;

This made the old white male waiter's expression unchanged, but there was a hint of displeasure in his tone.

"Hahaha, sorry."

"We were just delayed by other cases, so."

The casual FBI agent laughed, then raised his hand to signal the villa whether he could enter.

"Please follow me, both of you."

After all, it was the famous FBI, so the old white male waiter did not dare to really show his face to the other party. He turned around and led the two FBI agents through the lively party, swimming pool, and came to the study of the mansion.

"You again?"

Compared to the old white male waiter, the old black man leaning in the chair was not so good-tempered.

"Although I am willing to cooperate with you, can you please stop bothering me with some inexplicable things?"

There is indeed a promotion "ceiling" for old blacks in America, but with the rise of a certain black leader, this ceiling has loosened a lot: now the Secretary of Defense and the Mayor of New York in America are all occupied by African Americans.

The black tycoon in front of him is also a person who is qualified to appear in "Forbes" magazine. Facing two FBI agents, he can naturally lose his temper and express his dissatisfaction.

"Sorry, Mr. Alexander, I won't delay you too much."

After speaking, the serious FBI agent took out a photo.

"We have found a person in the case of the missing girl last time."

The photo shows a young black man lying dead on the roadside.

"He was involved in the case of the missing girl. His acquaintances told us that he mentioned the term 'Big Man in Bedford' when he was drunk."

"Shit!"

The black rich man cursed,

"Are there few people living on Bedford Street?"

"For those lower-class African Americans in Nigeria, which family is not considered a big man!"

After that, the black man threw the Newsweek on the desk to the two agents. This authoritative magazine used the bold title 'Alexander, 3 billion US dollars' to report a business of the black rich man: it was full of praise, and they all believed that under the leadership of this rich man, these traditional industries will have a second spring~~

Of course, a business of 3 billion US dollars is completely different from personal income.

But news is as shocking as it can be: readers suddenly see that it seems that this rich man took out 3 billion US dollars at will, and the shock and sensation are naturally incomparable.

"Okay, sorry to bother you."

For the two FBI agents, it was equally shocking.

Faced with the terrifying figure of 3 billion US dollars, they knew the power of capital and did not continue to entangle, but turned around and said goodbye.

However, the two did not rush to leave the mansion, but came to the buffet.

"Hahaha, you are responsible for driving tonight."

The casual agent picked up the plate and took a bottle of red wine from the waiter's tray, joking with his companion.

"I'll enjoy the wine."

"Whatever you want,"

The serious FBI agent picked up a truffle salmon sandwich and took a bite.

The reason they came at this time was because they knew the other party was having a party: as a billionaire, the host here didn't care about their food and drink at all: for ordinary FBI agents, it was a rare luxury.

"The eyes around me make me uncomfortable."

"Hahaha~~ Don't care."

"Those who can come here to attend the banquet are either rich or celebrities. How many people pay to see them?"

While drinking, the casual agent wrapped the cakes with paper towels, eating and taking them, not caring about the sidelong glances of people nearby.

As for the character of this partner,

the serious FBI agent didn't know what to say,

after eating something casually, he asked the other party to leave.

"Next, let's go to George's Church on 114th Street to investigate."

New York has more than 760 churches, and the prosperity of Christian denominations can be seen: during this period, more than hundreds of people every day claimed that they had received "divine revelation", although in the end it was found that they were all pranks and fantasies. But the huge flow of people entering the church every day still proves that most people still "believe" in Christ.

? !

Snap,

The donut in his hand fell,

The casual agent froze, and then asked back as if nothing had happened.

"Why?"

"Going to church in the middle of the night"

"The black criminal who "committed suicide" has several records of going to George's Church. I think it is necessary to check it out."

"Not good,"

Picking up the donut and taking a hard bite, the casual agent muttered.

"Hurry up and finish it. I want to go back and catch up on some sleep."

"Sorry,"

Thinking that his partner was angry because he was pulled away from the party, the serious agent spoke apologetically while driving.

"When I'm on vacation, I'll treat you to a strip club."

"Come on, you have a wife and a daughter."

The casual agent took another hard bite of the donut,

"I don't need you to treat me, and don't work too hard, just think of it as for them."

"This is work,"

The serious agent replied casually, and the dark vehicle passed through the night, and no one noticed the crow on the roof.

————

"Hey, we don't have a search warrant."

"Why are you so rigid all of a sudden? Don't worry, I'm just going to check the situation."

Greeting his reluctant partner, the serious agent took the lead in moving towards the church in front of him.

As the Federal Bureau of Investigation of the United States, they enjoy the highest priority in five areas: anti-violence, drug/organized crime, foreign counter-espionage, violent crime and white-collar crime.

They can even walk on the edge of the "law". Of course, if there is no reasonable reason, they will face accountability after failing.

Simply put, as long as you handle the case well, the higher-ups will be willing to help you take the responsibility.

This time, the two agents were obviously "very lucky".

"Look what I found?"

After sneaking into the room behind the church and searching through the boxes professionally.

With the faint light of the electric pen in his hand, the serious agent showed a happy expression on his face.

"These hairpins should never appear in the church, unless-"

"Who is there?"

Click,

The lights came on, and the two turned around and saw a priest standing at the door.

? !

"Father George, we are FBI agents!"

He took out a pistol with one hand and took out his ID with the other hand and opened it. The serious agent pointed the ID and the gun at the priest together.

"You are suspected of child abduction, please cooperate with our investigation."

After that, he stared at the priest at the door and signaled to his colleagues behind him.

"Compton, control-"

Snap,

A sound like a book falling to the ground came, and the agent's body shook suddenly.

"You"

Turning around in disbelief, he saw the complicated eyes of his colleagues and the muzzle of the gun with a silencer.

"Mike, I've been telling you not to fight so hard, but you just won't listen."

? ? ?

The serious agent Mike who was shot wanted to refute,

but the blood that kept pouring out of his back took his life at a terrifying speed, and he fell to the ground with a black vision.

"Compton, what's going on?"

The priest at the door asked,

How could it be? !

Compton actually.

"Father, don't be nervous."

As his eyes went dark, the voice of his "partner" rang in Agent Mike's ears.

"Just an idiot, I'll take care of it."

Damn it, damn it!

Is this the end of me?

Just when Agent Mike was unwilling, an inexplicable "voice" rang in his mind.

'Want to understand the meaning of life? Want to live truly? '

Yes/Yes

?

————

Squeak,

The black Chevrolet Suburban stopped in front of the garbage disposal plant.

This type of SUV is the vehicle of choice for the American FBI. Its power, handling, and passability are no less than those of hardcore off-road vehicles.

Especially after being modified by the secret service department to be bulletproof and explosion-proof, it has become a sharp weapon to fight violence; when chasing and fighting with various gangsters, a "Iron Mountain Backing" can make the other party fall flat.

And now, the agent who got off the car has to prepare to deal with the "corpse" of his colleague.

"It's all your fault, Mike."

The casual agent has been muttering all the way,

"I told you not to work so hard, and I told you not to investigate the church. Why didn't you listen?"

Holding a Glock 19M with a silencer, the agent who killed his colleague walked towards the trunk and muttered.

"Now is an extraordinary era, the boss, me, and you should all make changes. Otherwise."

You will die!

Just like lying in the trunk-

Open the trunk, what comes into view is not a corpse, but a half-squatting figure and the other party's angry eyes.

"Mike?!"

Bang,

Before the armed agent could react,

Mike, who had 'come back from the dead', suddenly rushed out, and the two rolled into a ball.

Snap,

With a slight sound,

the two figures tumbling and fighting suddenly stopped.

A few seconds later,

a figure stood up.

"Compton, hold on! I'll get a hemostatic patch."

"Ahem,"

The one who was shot was Compton, who was holding a silenced pistol. He lay on the ground and grabbed Mike's ankle as he was about to turn around and leave.

"Are you stupid? Ahem,"

"I just killed you, and you still--"

Blood overflowed from the corner of his mouth. Compton, who was lying on the ground, threw away the gun and raised his hand to press his chest. He knew very well:

"I'm dead,"

"Don't give up"

"Listen to me, Mike!"

Death was approaching, and he grabbed Mike's arm as he squatted down.

The wet marks on his chest quickly expanded to the agent's whole body, and he simply told everything he knew.

"The boss and the director are all from the 'other side'!"

? !

"There is a supernatural organization that has secretly controlled it"

"No, it has absorbed a large number of wealthy people, senior officials, dignitaries, and celebrities, cough cough cough~~"

Blood continued to flow, and Agent Compton, who was shot in the chest, continued to speak with the last adrenaline.

"The wealthy businessman we investigated, Father George, are all members of that organization."

"Get rid of my body and let them think you are me. Run away, run far away, and don't come back."

After saying these words in one breath, Agent Compton loosened his five fingers, as if he had run out of strength.

"Mike, I envy you."

"You are a real agent, and I-"

Just an ordinary person who will change his position after a little "threat".

"Wait, Compton."

As the other party's arm fell weakly, Agent Mike was stunned.

He had just been "killed" by the other party once, but to be honest, he didn't think of killing Compton immediately.

He also wanted to know why his partner suddenly shot him, and he also wanted to know what the organization behind the boss, the director, the priest, and the rich businessman was. But it seemed that even Compton didn't know.

According to the character of the "boss", he would definitely not tell them the inside story.

Holding the body of his colleague, the agent who had just come out of the "nightmare space" and was ready for revenge was confused.

What should he do?

Oh,

"Compton, goodbye."

Holding the body in his arms, Agent Mike looked at the garbage disposal plant in the night in front of him.

Dispose of the body and the vehicle, and then escape as "Compton": Resurrection from the dead is something that has never been heard of even in the FBI's extraordinary information.

Thinking of this, he turned his head slightly and tried to observe the wound on his back.

This is naturally invisible, but even if he can't see it, he can "feel" it.

A large number of black lines are wriggling in the wound, suturing the wound, and even replacing some of his organs.

"The strengthening of the Black Light Virus is simply the power of the devil."

But it was also the power of the devil that allowed him to stand up again and be able to:

Investigate everything behind it!