Finding the perfectly concealed entrance, Victor's brow furrowed slightly.
Has the plight of Mutants become so dire?
What kind of experiences could force them to live in these dark, sunless underground sewers, yet still require them to so meticulously hide their tracks?
There was no excessive sentimentality.
Victor lifted his foot and walked towards the entrance, but stopped just before getting too close.
According to the psychic feedback, an humanoid creature was standing eight meters inside the entrance—it was almost certainly a Mutant, as normal humans don't have a tail that wags back and forth.
The other party should be guarding the entrance to prevent anyone from accidentally intruding.
Although he possessed an Iron Body, which, according to his Bloodline memories, could defend against small-caliber handguns, Victor did not rashly approach and provoke the other party.
He wasn't here to cause trouble; he wanted to make money peacefully.
He pulled out his Huawei phone from his pocket, and his psychic power formed a hand to hold it up, suspending it in the air under the light of the flashlight.
At the same time.
Victor spoke, "I mean no harm. Look, I'm not like ordinary people either."
He didn't directly say he was a Mutant, but merely guided with words—this was a different kind of behavior than lying and deceiving.
A gentle yet firm voice came from inside the entrance: "You still can't come closer. Uncle Ford said we can't take in any more Mutants here. You should try somewhere else."
From the voice, it was a girl, probably only seventeen or eighteen years old.
After all this trouble, Victor naturally couldn't just turn around and leave.
He pulled out another wad of U.S. dollars, using his psychic power to float it next to his phone.
"I truly mean no harm. I'm here to help you. You must be very short on supplies, right? I can provide you with a lot of supplies, or money."
The girl didn't respond this time, but she also didn't try to drive him away.
Victor quietly moved the wad of U.S. dollars, and in the psychic feedback, the girl's head also slightly tilted with it.
It seemed they were truly in desperate need of supplies.
And no matter what supplies, they all needed U.S. dollars to purchase.
He immediately struck while the iron was hot: "How about you go ask your Boss? As you know, there's no signal here, and I'll just stand here and do nothing."
The girl was tempted, and warned in a soft tone, "Then you're not allowed to come in! I'm going to get Uncle Ford."
"No problem, I promise I won't move anything," Victor raised his hand to assure her.
"You promise! Stand there and don't move," the girl reiterated.
Coupled with her soft tone, it really had no deterrent effect.
In the psychic feedback.
The girl really did walk deeper inside. Her short 1.6-meter legs moved, and she quickly disappeared beyond the 10-meter limit of his psychic power.
Victor retrieved the flashlight and U.S. dollars into his hand, conserving energy.
He didn't do much exploring; he just stood there, quietly waiting—human adaptability was indeed strong, and he could already look directly at the filth of the underground sewer.
As for breathing through his nose... forget it.
About three minutes later.
f-grade merchandise detected, please pay attention;
E-grade merchandise detected, please pay attention;
Slight footsteps echoed in the silent space, and Victor immediately released his psychic power, which fed back two figures, one tall and one short, from inside the entrance—he only then realized that the girl made no sound when she walked.
Just like a cat.
The two figures didn't stop this time, walking directly out of the entrance. The solid wall rippled, and the two of them passed through it.
He didn't know what type of Mutant Ability it was; it was quite magical.
The short figure was the girl who had gone back to report.
She hid behind the other person, revealing a long tail that couldn't be hidden, its fur matted into knots from lack of long-term care.
The tall figure was a middle-aged man, even sturdier than Victor, wearing a torn jacket and jeans. His face was obscured by a thick, greasy beard, and his scrutinizing eyes held a fierce glint.
It clearly stated, "I'm not to be trifled with."
Victor slightly angled the flashlight away and softly said, "My name is Victor, and I'm here to..."
"Help us, right?" The middle-aged man rudely interrupted, "Never mind anything else, Little Avril said you brought money. Give me the money first, using your Ability."
Alright, very direct.
He complied, using his psychic power to float the U.S. dollars over. Small black scales emerged from the middle-aged man's right arm, and he snatched the U.S. dollars, shook them vigorously, and then stuffed them into his jacket pocket.
He appeared very wary.
"You can call me Old Ford. Just tell me directly, what's the matter?" Old Ford spoke simply and roughly.
His straightforward personality rendered many of Victor's prepared talking points useless.
His brain spun rapidly, analyzing how to speak to achieve his goal—which was why he didn't want to inherit Father Chen's business Empire; he didn't have the merchant's knack for sweet-talking people.
Before he could reach a conclusion, Old Ford grew impatient: "Stuttering like a woman, you don't look like a good person. Go home, think it over, and then bring money when you're ready."
After speaking.
Old Ford directly turned and walked away.
This blatant act of taking money without giving face truly impressed Victor.
Of course, he couldn't let him just leave. The money given was a small matter; delaying his subsequent plans was the real trouble.
Victor decided to go all out: "My Ability can eliminate Mutant Abilities. I imagine there are Mutants here who don't want their Abilities. I can help them."
Old Ford had already turned to leave, but hearing Victor's words, he paused, then turned back, not speaking, his questioning gaze sweeping Victor up and down.
It was the girl, Avril, who cautiously peeked her small head from behind Old Ford, looking at Victor with surprise, her small ears twitching on her head.
Even though she was dirty, she was super cute!
It really was a feline-type Mutant Ability, no wonder she walked silently.
"You can really eliminate Mutant Abilities?" Old Ford's tone was unfriendly: "Isn't your Ability controlling objects?!"
He thought Victor was lying—but was he really lying?
Victor smiled calmly.
"Psychic power is also something I gained through this, and I also have an Iron Body. My body can withstand cuts from ordinary knives."
Old Ford's face was taut, showing no emotion, as he stared at Victor, trying to find any sign of timidity to prove it was just a lie.
He failed.
Victor's face held a confident smile, meeting Old Ford's gaze without any fear—as for how nervous he was inside, well, let's not talk about it.
It wasn't that he was a coward.
Old Ford's gaze was truly sharp, like a stirring stick, making his back door clench.
He was always afraid that his gaze would shift downwards, fixing on certain indescribable parts.
The two silently vied for several minutes, until Old Ford, with a half-believing, half-doubting attitude, asked, "There won't be any serious side effects, will there?"
Victor secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Since Old Ford asked that, then the matter was essentially settled.
As for whether he could really eliminate Mutant Abilities?
Hmm... false.
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