70: Chapter 70 The Admission Ticket in the Corpse

Chaos is the best camouflage.

By the time the first SWAT armored vehicle smashed through the barricade and rushed into the scene, the crowd had already descended into complete chaos.

The white smoke of tear gas billowed through the curtain of rain, with coughing and screaming mingling together.

A black van marked with "Fairfax County Coroner" and flashing yellow lights merged into the tail of the police convoy with extreme naturalness.

Inside the vehicle, Old George was skillfully pulling on a waterproof windbreaker marked "Coroner," with an unlit pipe clamped in his mouth.

"How did you manage to get this vehicle?"

Jessica sat in the passenger seat, applying prosthetic silicone skin to her face to pad her cheekbones, making her look like a mean-spirited middle-aged woman.

"There isn't a temporary position in this world that money can't buy."

In the back of the van, Chen Mo was adjusting the work ID around his neck while looking into a mirror.

He now looked just like an unlucky-looking intern who had just graduated from medical school.

"Especially after you wire fifty thousand dollars to the real coroner's account and send him off to vacation in Hawaii."

The vehicle stopped.

"Remember, you only have five minutes." Chen Mo handed a silver metal case to George.

"The SWAT team is clearing the scene, and the forensics unit is still on the way; this time gap is ours."

George pushed open the car door, his irritated expression—the look of 'damn this weather to have to work overtime'—was Oscar-worthy.

"Move! Everyone move!" George roared at the few state troopers trying to block him, waving the clipboard in his hand.

"This corpse may contain highly pathogenic virus residue! Unless you want to go home and infect your wives and children, get back at least five meters behind the cordon!"

Hearing the word "virus," the burly police officers jumped back as if they had been electrocuted.

The panic over the Georgetown flu was more effective than a nuclear bomb right now.

Chen Mo carried the case behind George, his head lowered like an apprentice terrified of his master's scolding.

He walked quickly to the battered Ford.

Patrick Gore remained in that same position.

Half of his head was gone, and he was still tightly gripping the gun.

Rainwater washed the blood in the car, forming a dark red stream that flowed onto the asphalt.

"This smell is really strong," George muttered, opening the body bag. "Hurry up, there's a reporter with a camera crawling this way."

Chen Mo crouched down, his latex-gloved hand reaching toward the remains of Patrick Gore's neck.

To onlookers, he appeared to be checking the rigidity of the corpse or preparing to move it.

But only Chen Mo could see the dark golden light, visible only to system holders, floating above the corpse.

That was the final essence left behind by a soul that had struggled in the power circles of Washington for thirty years, holding countless dirty secrets.

Although Patrick Gore was a piece of trash, he was a high-ranking piece of trash.

He was a pawn placed in the open by the "Council," and a bridge connecting the Deep State and Capitol Hill.

His brain was filled with leverage over those big shots.

Chen Mo's fingers touched the cold skin.

"System, extract."

Hum—

That familiar torrent of data washed over Chen Mo's nerves once again.

This time, there was no nauseating madness like that of the virologist; instead, it was replaced by a suffocating coldness and calculation.

Countless faces flashed through his mind.

Banquets of power and money transactions, the account password hidden deep within a Swiss Bank, several assassination orders against political rivals... and that list.

The contact list of Ouroboros peripheral members that he was terrified of even before his death.

[Ding! Extraction successful.]

[Identity obtained: Shadow Congressman (Special/Inactive)]

[Description: You have inherited Patrick Gore's political Legacy.

Although you cannot directly sit in his chair at Congress, you possess all the incriminating evidence he used to control subordinates and blackmail colleagues.

In the shadows of Washington, your voice carries the same weight as a senior senator.]

[Note: This identity carries high risk; activating it may draw the attention of the "Council's" core layer.]

[Asset obtained: Zurich State Bank bearer bond account key.]

[Balance: 32,000,000 USD.]

[Remark: This is the money he originally intended to use to buy his life; now it is your starting capital.]

[Intelligence obtained: Council · Low-level Cleaner List.]

[Contains: 3 insiders in the District Police Department, 2 mid-level FBI managers, 4 mainstream media editors...]

Chen Mo's fingers trembled imperceptibly.

This was even more than he had anticipated.

That old fox Patrick Gore had actually left behind so many contingency plans behind the "Council's" back.

He had originally intended to use these things as a life-saving talisman, but they ended up becoming nuclear weapons in Chen Mo's hands.

"Did you get it?" George lowered his voice, pretending to fill out a form while using his body to block the view from outside.

"A huge harvest." Chen Mo withdrew his hand and took the opportunity to close Patrick Gore's still-open eye.

"Put him in; be gentle, this is a multi-millionaire after all."

The two worked together to stuff the corpse into the black body bag and zipped it up.

"Hey! Which unit are you from?"

A man in a trench coat suddenly ducked in from outside the cordon, holding up identification. It was a badge from the Department of Homeland Security (DHS).

"This corpse is being taken over by the Department of Homeland Security. Put him down." The man's eyes were sinister, and his hand stayed on his waist.

This was clearly someone from the "Cleaners," here to recover the corpse that might leak secrets.

Chen Mo straightened up, and that submissive apprentice demeanor vanished instantly.

He looked at the agent through his mask, his eyes filled with mockery.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, officer." Chen Mo pointed to the zipped-up body bag.

"According to Article 7 of the Federal Epidemic Emergency Act, corpses suspected of being infected with high-risk viruses must be sealed and handled by CDC-designated personnel. Your actions right now are endangering national security."

"I said put him down!" The agent pulled out his gun, the dark muzzle pointing at the center of Chen Mo's forehead.

The surrounding SWAT officers instantly tensed up, raising their muzzles.

Just then, George suddenly shouted, "Watch out! The body bag is torn! Bodily fluids are leaking!"

He jumped back violently, as if he had seen some kind of terrifying monster.

The agent instinctively looked down at the rainwater at his feet.

In that split second, Chen Mo moved.

There were no flashy moves, only simple and direct killing techniques.

He sidestepped, grabbed the agent's gun-wielding wrist, and snapped it with force.

Crack.

The crisp sound of the broken wrist was masked by the sound of the rain.

Just as the agent was about to scream, Chen Mo's other hand had already gripped his Adam's apple, pushing it with a bit of force.

"Urgh—"

The agent collapsed softly, as if he had suffered a sudden, acute illness.

"Oh my god! He fainted!" Chen Mo shouted in a panic, his acting so realistic that even Jessica wanted to applaud him.

"Call an ambulance! He might be infected too!"

The surrounding police officers were so scared they retreated repeatedly; no one dared to come forward to help.

Chen Mo took the opportunity to crouch down, pretending to check the agent's pupils, while actually whispering quickly into the agent's ear:

"Go back and tell your master that I have already taken Patrick Gore's brain.

If they don't want that list to appear on the front page of The Washington Post tomorrow, tell them to get their checkbooks ready."

After saying this, he stood up and, together with George, pushed the stretcher containing Patrick Gore's corpse into the van.

"Drive." Chen Mo patted the partition of the driver's seat.

Jessica slammed on the gas, and the black van, under the eyes of everyone, blared its siren and drove out of the perimeter in a swaggering manner.