Wealth Code

Deacon Frost's fury was within Mike's expectations. In order to find Mike, Deacon might even go after the Banks family. The odds were low, but it was possible. So Mike had left Deacon a clue.

Blinded by lust?

Not a chance.

He had not killed the bartender to silence him, either. The bartender had a Vampire Cultists tattoo on the web of his thumb. Well, Mike simply felt that Vampire Cultists did not deserve to live in this world. Usually, Mike could not be bothered with them, but if he ran into one, he killed one. Consider it a good deed.

Coulson reported everything Mike had done to Nick Fury, including Mike's attitude toward S.H.I.E.L.D.

Nick gazed up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle and said emotionally, "Snowflakes may ultimately fall into the mud, but while they drift down, they are pure and spotless."

Coulson: ...

What did that mean?

It was complete nonsense!

Three days passed without any new jobs, and Mike returned to his playboy routine.

At around four in the afternoon, Mike came downstairs with a Latin beauty in his arms.

Ever tried incorporating Latin dance moves into the grand harmony of life?

Mike sighed. "People in the city sure know how to have fun."

He had nearly been unable to get out of bed.

Chloe lay sprawled across the counter, chewing on the end of her pencil as she muttered, "It's too hard. It's really too hard..."

Mike glanced over. Single-digit multiplication and division...

Heh. A grade-school dunce.

A sense of inner satisfaction welled up naturally.

Old Earl saw right through Mike's thoughts and rolled his enormous Byakugan at him.

Someone as thick-skinned as Mike ignored it outright.

"Bye-bye, baby."

Mike walked the Latin beauty to the door and put her in a taxi. She was reluctant to part with him. After blowing him a kiss, she pointed at her phone, reminding Mike to contact her.

Mike went back inside.

Old Earl gave Mike a thumbs-up. "You've got half the style I had in my youth."

Mike humbly replied, "When it comes to shamelessness, you're the true veteran."

The two bantered for a while.

Chloe had chewed her pencil to pieces. Mike could not stand it anymore and said to Old Earl, "Aren't you going to help tutor her?"

Old Earl said with rare embarrassment, "Third-grade multiplication and division are too hard!"

Mike nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.

W.T.F.!

Single-digit multiplication and division were third-grade material?

Too hard?

Old Earl immediately raised his voice. "Little Chloe just missed too many classes. I believe she can do it!"

Chloe puffed out her cheeks and clenched her fists in encouragement, like an adorable little hamster.

In 1989, the United States National Council of Teachers of Mathematics abolished all math content that required memorization. The multiplication table was the first casualty.

Without a multiplication table, American grade-school dunces found multiplication far too abstract.

After doing homework for a while, Chloe conscientiously went to mop the floor. If every employee were this diligent, what boss would have to worry about not getting rich?

Fat Jerry called.

"Hello? Say it if you've got something to say, fart if you've got to fart. I'm busy."

Busy soaking up the sun!

Fat Jerry sounded serious. "The Vampires are looking for you like crazy. What did you do to them?!"

"There was a Vampire who claimed to be Deacon Frost's girlfriend. I killed her. There was a Vampire Factory in Hell's Kitchen, so I wiped it out." Mike answered casually. "That's all."

"Frost is one of the Vampire crazies. You've stirred up a huge mess. There's a ten-thousand-US-dollar reward for useful information and a hundred-thousand-US-dollar reward for your hideout. The bounty hunters' eyes have turned green. You're screwed." Fat Jerry gloated.

"You didn't sell me out, did you?" Mike asked.

"How could I?!"

Fat Jerry flew into a rage and slapped the table loudly. "You're insulting my character! Apologize! You must apologize!"

"Sorry."

Mike said readily, "I shouldn't have insulted something you don't have. I was wrong. I apologize!"

"Uh... That feels kind of weird."

"Don't sweat the details."

As he spoke, an idea formed in Mike's mind and quickly got out of control. After thinking it over, he said, "If they keep searching like this, I'll be exposed sooner or later. Fat Jerry... tell me, can we earn this reward money ourselves?"

Fat Jerry froze for a moment, then shouted, "Mike! You're fucking insane... and a genius. That's brilliant! We can get a few people to provide useful clues and make a little money."

Mike continued, "Then we sell them my hiding place. One hundred thousand US dollars, just like that!"

Fat Jerry froze again. "Wouldn't that be dangerous? Don't screw this up..."

Mike patted his chest and promised, "Relax. I've got it under control."

Fat Jerry said solemnly, "As disgusting as they are, Vampires have survived and multiplied until now for a reason. Don't underestimate them."

Mike said, "I know what I'm doing. If I can't handle it, I'll just leave the city and hide for a while."

"Fine."

The two discussed the plan. Fat Jerry would find people to carry it out, and they would split the profits fifty-fifty.

Finally, Fat Jerry sent Mike a picture.

"What's this?"

"Your bounty portrait."

Mike nearly choked. The portrait had perfectly avoided every one of Mike's defining features. It did not look like him at all.

Mike had every reason to suspect that Sansa was face-blind.

Take back that line about being exposed sooner or later.

Before long, the Vampires received several useful leads. Putting all the clues together, Mike's identity was practically obvious. They were only one step away.

Some time later, someone provided another tip. "I personally saw the man in the portrait hiding in a warehouse."

After the one hundred thousand US dollars had been paid, an address and several candid photos were placed on Deacon Frost's desk.

"I'll take some men and bring that bastard back right away." Quinn, Deacon's subordinate, wore a savage expression.

"No. I'll lead the team myself."

Deacon's gaze was gloomy. Quinn, who understood Deacon well, quickly swallowed the questions of "Why?" and "There's no need, just leave it to me."

Quinn was crazy and reckless, and his combat ability was merely passable. The reason he had become Deacon's confidant was his survival instinct and his ability to read the room.

The obvious difference between Deacon going out and Quinn going out was the number of underlings deployed—five sedans and three vans headed toward Hell's Kitchen in a grand procession.

The reason Deacon changed his mind lay in the Vampire power struggle.

New York's Vampires had two major factions: the Vampire Kingdom and the Vampire Council.

The Vampire Kingdom was ruled by the vampire duke Makinos family, whose current leader was Eli Makinos. Considering the long lifespan of Vampires, barring any accidents, Eli would continue leading the Vampire Kingdom for a long time.

The Vampire Council's highest authority was the council itself. Its chairman was Gaten, alongside several elders, all pure-blooded Vampires.

Deacon Frost belonged to the Vampire Council and served as the council's dirty-work man. He had ability and ambition, but Frost was not a pure-blooded Vampire. No matter how outstanding he was, the council would never make room for him.

The council demanded that they keep a low profile and follow the rules.

Deacon Frost's radical ideas happened to cater to the fantasies of many Vampires. His power had steadily expanded, and he was gradually hollowing out the council's authority.

However, the Vampire Factory's exposure caused a shortage of blood sources, giving the council an excuse to attack him. Deacon Frost was pushed into a passive position. That was why Deacon had decided to "lower himself" and personally tear apart the culprit.

Mike gave Old Earl three days of paid leave, stuffed several large bags into the trunk, and drove away alone.

His departing figure looked somewhat desolate—from Old Earl's perspective.

"I can't help with much. If I were twenty years younger... it still wouldn't do a damn bit of good." Old Earl felt a little dejected.

Ordinary people could not get involved in Mike's world. It had nothing to do with age.

In reality, the bags contained a complete portable hotpot set, bowls and chopsticks, and all kinds of seasonings.

When he passed a fresh food supermarket, Mike also picked up beef tenderloin, veal steaks, assorted vegetables...

Unfortunately, Americans did not eat offal, so he could not buy tripe or omasum.

When Blade found Mike, Mike was scrolling through his phone while fishing slices of beef out of a boiling red spicy broth and stuffing them into his mouth, making hissing sounds from the heat.

Blade was completely dumbfounded. What the hell was going on?