Exorcist of the American Nightmares

Sensing Billd's wariness, Old Brown acted like a hesitant old man, cautiously stating, "I heard you have those things here... I... I want to do some business."

Billd seemed a bit out of it, swaying his head as he looked at Old Brown.

Old Brown kept a steady expression, showing a determined desire to buy.

Seeing this, Billd did not respond but just stared at Old Brown and then shut the iron gate with a loud bang.

Old Brown's pupils slightly contracted, but he did not leave, staying put instead.

His identity as an old man could lower their guard, making his words seem more credible.

What do drug dealers need the most? A continuous flow of people and resources, much like a house that only collects fees without caring about wins or losses, fearing only that you won't play.

So, drug dealers aren't afraid you'll buy; they're afraid you won't buy enough.

After waiting a few seconds with no response from inside, Old Brown reached out to knock on the iron gate again, but before he could touch it, the inside erupted with noise again, prompting him to retract his hand.

Like before, the gate cracked open slightly, but this time, the person who emerged wasn't Billd but another thin individual with dark circles under his eyes and a torso full of scars, revealing his nature as a drug addict.

"Doing business? What kind of business?"

The man seemed to itch all over, scratching his head and then his face, displaying stiffness and unease throughout.

Old Brown pretended not to notice and hesitated, "The stuff you're selling. Someone told me I could get what I want from you and Billd."

The person by the gate twisted his neck unnaturally, scratching the scars on his chest as he stared at Old Brown.

"How much do you want to buy?"

Old Brown didn't hesitate this time, nor did he specify an amount, instead opting for a broad statement.

"A lot."

"A lot?" The gatekeeper stopped scratching and looked at Old Brown for confirmation. "Are you sure?"

Old Brown nodded.

Seeing this, the gatekeeper glanced behind Old Brown and then opened the gate, tilting his head to signal him inside.

Old Brown calmly entered without the person going in first.

As soon as he stepped inside, a pistol suddenly appeared from the right, aimed directly at his temple.

Old Brown's expression remained unchanged; he simply raised his hands and glanced to the right, where three individuals stood, one fat and three thin, with Billd being the one holding the gun.

"I just want to buy some stuff."

However, they did not respond but looked towards the person who had closed the gate and reported, "No one's there."

Feeling the gaze, the door closer said amidst scratching, "No one."

Then, the fat man inside, Felton, finally spoke up.

"Put the gun down, Billd."

Billd stared at Old Brown for a few seconds before reluctantly lowering the pistol.

Old Brown carefully lowered his hands, looking directly at the fat man inside, realizing he was the one in charge. What surprised him was that the fat man had a typical Russian appearance.

"Russian?"

Before Old Brown could process this information, Felton, after observing him for a few seconds, pulled out a small bag of white powder, suddenly asking, "Old man, you want to buy this?"

Old Brown quickly recovered, ignoring the four thin men surrounding him, including Billd, and silently nodded.

Seeing this, Felton appeared amused, nodded, and ordered, "Search him. I want to see what this old man has on him!"

As he spoke, the four men surrounding Old Brown immediately moved in, holding him still while two searched him.

Old Brown remained calm, albeit visibly annoyed, as if he despised their actions.

"I'm serious. If you don't want to sell, I'll leave right now."

Felton remained silent, watching his men find only two thick envelopes on Old Brown.

"Are you trying to rob me? Kid, this isn't the way to do business. You'll scare away a lot of customers like this."

Hearing this, Felton glanced at Old Brown, took the envelopes from his men, opened them, and inspected the money inside.

After this, Felton finally addressed Old Brown, "You want to buy this much?"

"Yes."

Still held, Old Brown responded, "I also want to buy a gun."

Mentioning this, Old Brown gestured towards the pistol in Billd's hand.

"Like his."

Felton tapped the envelopes in his hand, continuing to probe.

"What does an old man close to death want with these things?"

Old Brown knew this was the crucial moment and took a deep breath before replying.

"For my family's kids to use. As for the gun, after they're done, I'll give them a bullet, and one for myself too…"

His words were spoken calmly, surprising everyone present.

"Ha ha." Felton chuckled, signaling his men to release Old Brown and walked deeper inside.

"A tough old man, I like it. Come with me."

The thin men glanced at Old Brown before following their boss.

Old Brown, composed, surveyed the surroundings, understanding the gravity of the situation only after following them.

The ordinary-looking low-rise building was far from mundane inside. He had anticipated something but was shocked by the extent of their depravity.

Small rooms made of wooden boards lined both sides, each with a curtain hanging from a rope serving as a makeshift door, barely concealing the interior.

Old Brown could see girls of various skin tones lying or sitting inside each room, some in a daze, others as lifeless as corpses.

Some were disheveled and unrecognizable, with their heads tilted back, motionless.

Some just stared blankly as he passed, their eyes devoid of light.

Some were even being violated…

The shocking sight made Old Brown's heart heavy with anger, his face tensing with fury.

The discarded handcuffs and syringes on the floor indicated these girls had been deprived of their freedom and injected with drugs by these scum…