The Memoirs of Cultivating Immortals

Chapter 202 The Soul
Constantine was smoking a cigarette.

His face was haggard and lonely, his eyes were deep sunken, and he was breathing heavily. During his breathing, the flame of the "Sika" cigarette kept getting closer, accumulating slender and long ashes.

If it is placed elsewhere, such as a dark and damp city back alley, a dark and cramped basement, Constantine, who is smoking a cigarette, can definitely form a caricature of dark tones.

But in this long and narrow corridor where everyone is in suits and leather shoes, shoulder to shoulder, and the flow is endless, Constantine's presence is extremely abrupt.

"Sorry, Mr. Constantine, smoking is not allowed here."

The short and chubby Amanda Waller stood in front of Constantine holding the documents, and said in a cold tone with a blank face: "If you don't mind, please put out the cigarette."

Constantine didn't say anything, just squinted his eyes, passed the black woman, and scanned the corridor.

Yes, this is the white house in Washington, the heart of American power.

Seeing that Constantine didn't intend to put out the cigarette at all, Amanda didn't insist either, but just said with a straight face, "Come with me."

She led Konstantin to turn left and right, bypassing corridors, and finally arrived at a reception room.

The scale of the reception room is small, and the color decoration style is mainly green, which looks fresh, refreshing and pleasant.

Constantine walked into the room, sat down on the soft sofa, randomly pressed the exhausted Sika cigarettes into the ashtray, took out the cigarette case under Amanda Waller's indifferent eyes, and said indifferently,
"Where's the president?"

"He's doing a nationally televised address."

"Oh?" Constantine raised his eyebrows, moved his buttocks, and changed himself to a more comfortable position. "Is such an informal reception session the sincerity of Washington?"

Amanda Waller smiled and said casually: "In the face of such a catastrophe, the entire American state machine has been mobilized, and there are countless issues waiting to be resolved.

You, a superpower from a British gangster, can't you wait a little longer? "

"Of course I don't mind waiting,"

Constantine spread his hands and said casually: "It's just that I hope that the think tank in the next room can come up with an opinion quickly, and what kind of attitude should be shown to face the negotiating party sent by Academy City like me. represent."

The smile on Amanda's face froze a bit, and she confirmed the fact that she hated John Constantine almost instantly.

This British man had an extremely brilliant criminal record in the United States. If it weren't for the other party's status as a representative of Academy City, he would have been shot dead by security guards on the White House lawn before he stepped into the gate of the White House.

What's more, according to reliable reports, before the Suicide Squad was wiped out, Constantine also disappeared in Gotham. Is there any connection between the two?
Amanda Waller became more and more upset. This lady from the intelligence agency did not hide her emotions at all, or she was not afraid of Constantine noticing her bad emotions at all.

He and Constantine are, to a certain extent, the same type of people, selfish, dark and deep, and like to deceive people.

"Tsk tsk tsk, I just like the way you look at me and can't get rid of me."

Konstantin raised his legs proudly, put his boots on the small coffee table, and scraped the mud from the soles of the boots on the delicate gold edge of the coffee table.

"Don't get too complacent, Warlock."

Amanda Waller sneered, trying to gouge the flesh off Constantine's face with her eagle-like sharp eyes, "As far as we know, there are enemies all over the world who want to collect debts from you,
Even inside and outside of Washington, there are seven or eight terrorists with supernatural abilities hidden here, just to kill you. "

"Yo?"

Constantine grinned, "I'm sorry, but I didn't know that the extraordinary organization in the United States would be so kind and willing to provide me with this kind of information."

"We just don't want anything to happen to you in Washington, that's all."

Amanda Waller shook her head and said sarcastically, "After all, no one wants someone else's watchdog to die in front of their own door."

Constantine accepted the other party's sarcasm calmly, rubbed his itchy calf with the edge of the coffee table, and said lazily, "How long will it take for the president to finish?"

"Half an hour later." Amanda Waller walked away, "You just wait here."

With a click, the door closed, and Konstantin was the only one left in the green room.

"It's so boring."

He smoked a cigarette, exhaled a puff of smoke, stretched his body, took out his mobile phone from his pocket, watched the president's speech through the screen, and exhaled a puff of smoke.

----

Looking down from the space station in low-Earth orbit, the North American continent is quiet and peaceful under the night. The meteorological clouds are swirling like a whirlpool. The lights from cities and rural areas merge into rivers, either sparse or dense, illuminating the entire United States. Bright.

It was already early morning, but the vast majority of residents in this country were still awake. Thousands of ordinary people stayed at home, watching the reports on the disaster in New York in front of the TV.

The electromagnetic pulse created by the Kabbalah tree of life finally dissipated, and the helicopter was able to fly into it, broadcasting the tragedy of New York City to hundreds of millions of residents.

The giant palms holding up the sky, the collapsing high-rise buildings, and the thick and long columns of smoke rising into the sky made these people who thought they were living in a peaceful age dumbfounded.

The wife clenched her husband's sweaty hands; the children stared at their peers buried under the ruins on the screen; the old man lowered his head, letting the light of the TV hit his face, mottled like an oil painting.

Fortunately, the heart-wrenching scene was finally interrupted, and a middle-aged Latino man's face appeared on the screen.

That's the current bald eagle master, and he's giving a nationally televised speech.

"Good evening. Today, our fellow citizens, our lives and our cherished freedoms were attacked by a series of premeditated and inhumane terrorist attacks."

The head sits in the iconic oval office, the background board is the floor-to-ceiling windows with fluttering beige curtains.

His face was serious, and the professional makeup artist deliberately painted some shadows around his cheekbones to make him look more haggard and more solemn.

"...this large-scale terrorist attack was designed to scare us, but they are doomed to fail."

His words were accurately conveyed to thousands of households in the United States, and even across the uncharted Pacific Ocean to other countries.

Think tanks all over the world have been mobilized, and the most elite think tanks have collected information in various ways to assess the disaster situation in New York, the rebuilding price, public opinion in the United States and the world, the source of the disaster, and the measures taken after the damage in the United States. political, economic, cultural and military strategies.
The head of the bald eagle has a solemn face, and his expression is deep and solemn, completely surpassing the Oscar winners.

"Tonight, I ask you to join in your prayers for all those who have been devastated, for all the children whose good world was shattered mercilessly, for all those whose safety was threatened."

In the Oval Office, President Bald Eagle put down his speech and said to the camera: "Thank you, everyone, good night, and may God bless America."

In that reception room, Constantine, who was watching TV speeches on his mobile phone, smiled and said indifferently, "God? Haven't these bureaucrats understood the facts?

God, his last name is Lee now. "

(End of this chapter)