Codex of the Old Gods: I Have a World

In Mexico City, the executioner general Victoriano Huerta was furious after hearing the report from his men: "Three hundred men, fighting against a dozen or twenty people, and we lost?"

The subordinate scratched his head and was about to correct him, saying that he was not going to hit a dozen or twenty people, but only one.

But on second thought, reporting like this is just plain uncomfortable.

He also didn't believe that one person could drive away three hundred fully armed rural mounted patrol policemen.

So I just stood there without saying anything.

Victoriano Huerta wanted to send troops to encircle and suppress them, but Emiliano Zapata had been giving him a headache recently. He had obtained a lot of new weapons, and the situation was getting bigger and bigger, and he was in the limelight.

"Did John Constantine support any side in the uprising? Or against Dias?"

"No."

"Then let him live for a while longer."

……

Zhao Chuanxin dug a temporary eye at the Grand River. On the way back, he skipped the mountain road and took the water route directly into the sea, crossed the Gulf of Mexico and headed north to New York along the Atlantic Ocean.

By the way, Eye No. 22 was inserted in the city of Torreón.

Zhao Chuanxin ran for three and a half hours to cover a distance of three thousand seven hundred to eight hundred kilometers, and arrived at Lower Bay, New York. He went upstream along the Hudson River and directly arrived at Ethan Manor in North Tarrytown without exerting any power of faith.

It was already the middle of the night.

Zhao Chuanxin hadn't slept for more than twenty-four hours and only felt a little tired.

He immediately took out a cigarette and lit it, then smoked one happily outside the manor and teleported to Eye No. 12, the bedroom of Ethan Manor.

He lay on the bed and designed some drawings with Xingyue.

The first drawing is a bicycle that looks similar to the third-generation Youlong.

That’s right, it’s a bicycle, with pedals, a thin iron shell, a chain, and wheels…

The second drawing shows the Shenhuo Feiya, which is the original rocket recorded in the Ming history books.

There are also various kinds of big firecrackers and other strange things in the back.

After finishing the design, Zhao Chuanxin went to bed and fell asleep as soon as he touched the pillow.

The next day, the maid was startled when she came to clean the room.

Zhao Chuanxin was sleeping soundly on the bed, with a mess of miscellaneous items scattered on the floor.

The maid was in her thirties, still charming, and dressed in a maid's outfit. She blushed when she saw the master, who was completely naked except for his boxer briefs, with his angular muscles and manly beard.

I wanted to leave, but I couldn't help but look at it a few more times, and thought to myself: I'll move closer and tidy up the ashtray on the bedside table.

When she got closer, her butt suddenly felt tight and she was held down by a big hand.

The maid almost screamed, and saw the master on the bed glaring at her with his eyes wide open, pressing her butt with one hand and clenching his other fist as if he would hit her at any time.

She was so scared that she weakly called out, "Master."

Zhao Chuanxin let go, relaxed his tense body, and lay down again: "Ask Freddy to prepare a Chinese breakfast for me."

The maid was a little disappointed when she saw him let go of her hand: "Yes, sir."

A real man, a good guy, and full of vigor and vitality are not enough to describe him.

Not long after, Zhao Chuanxin got up, washed up, and went to the restaurant.

Freddy Pavitt stood respectfully beside him and bowed slightly.

Zhao Chuanxin didn't care about anything else. He sat down and started eating. He made twenty-five meat buns, seven tea eggs, three bowls of porridge, and four stacks of pickles.

The serving maid was dumbfounded.

How big does the stomach need to be to hold so many things?

Putting down his bowl and chopsticks, he said to Freddy Pavitt, "Contact Abraham first and ask him to find a man named Shen Dengjia in the New York Police Department to get him out. At the same time, find out where the headquarters of the Royalist Party in New York is."

Freddy Pavitt withdrew.

Zhao Chuanxin came to the yard and saw the big black man Marcus Nkrumah.

"Master." Marcus Nkrumah said happily with his mouth wide open.

Zhao Chuanxin nodded.

The Ethan Manor is at its most beautiful at this time. The villa is quiet and secluded, with dense sculptures. In the distance you can see the shimmering Hudson River and towering mountains shrouded in white mist. The courtyard is shaded by green plants, the grass is lush, the turtle-back polished bricks are inlaid with clusters of flowers, and the fresh air is refreshing.

Don’t think that things created by humans lack spirit. In fact, people prefer regular scenery, which is their nature.

Zhao Chuanxin took out a recliner and sat down, and Marcus Nkrumah wisely went to bring him a foot pad.

At this time, a big dog with a black body and a yellow mouth came running over and barked at Zhao Chuanxin.

Zhao Chuanxin slapped the dog in the face, making its mouth crooked and its eyes slanted: "Get lost."

Marcus Nkrumah felt distressed but dared not say anything. He stepped forward and grabbed the dog's head: "Don't disturb the master."

The dog was dragged away.

Zhao Chuanxin had a rare moment of leisure time, so he simply took off his silk shirt and basked in the sun.

Unfortunately, his body is destined to never get tanned no matter how much he gets in the sun, so there is no need to dream of having wheat-colored skin.

Zhao Chuanxin suddenly said to Xingyue: "No, our fake third-generation dragon cannot be that simple. You have to design some complicated and useless structures and add the launch port of the Divine Fire Crow and the Maxim machine gun on it."

Xingyue asked: "What about the power? Does it need to be improved?"

"No, the power is still from the pedals."

Xingyue: “…”

Zhao Chuanxin basked in the sun for two consecutive days at Ethan Manor.

The next day, Abraham Cohen finally wrote a letter saying that Shen Dengjia had been rescued.

Zhao Chuanxin brought Marcus Nkrumah to New York, to Xinghui Catering Company, 169 Grand Street.

Abraham Cohen, Andrew Miller, the Smith brothers, Arthur Gompers, Jesse Livermore, Thomas W. Lawson and others were all present.

"Mr. Zhao."

At the entrance of Xinghui Catering Company, everyone shook hands with Zhao Chuanxin who got off the car, attracting the attention of passers-by.

The last person was a middle-aged Chinese man, Shen Dengjia.

Since being rescued by this group of people this morning, Shen Dengjia has been in a daze and has no idea who rescued him.

After all, this group of people includes both black and white people. I heard that there is the son of the chairman of the American Federation of Labor, the president of a chain of restaurants, the president of a chain of nightclubs, a pastor of the Chamber Pot Cult, a big short seller on Wall Street, and a financial tycoon...

Everyone has an impressive background.

But they were extremely respectful to a tall Chinese man, even excited, which made Shen Dengjia even more confused.

Who is this person from?

He looked at him carefully and saw that he was wearing a silk shiny navy blue shirt with his sleeves rolled up and his chest buttons unbuttoned. His hair was combed back and his beard was black and thick, about four inches long.

This guy is really tall. Apart from the big black guy who is about two meters tall, he is the tallest among everyone present.

His eyes were indifferent, and one could tell at a glance that he regarded human life as worthless.

He had a blank expression on his face, indifferent to the excitement of the crowd.

Then, Abraham Cohen introduced Zhao Chuanxin: "This is Shen Dengjia."

Then he said to Shen Dengjia: "It was Mr. Zhao who asked us to rescue you."

Shen Dengjia hurriedly bowed and said, "Thank you, Mr. Zhao. I will never forget your kindness."

A name suddenly popped up in his mind, but he was not sure.