(Chapter 3, first issued and then revised.) ）

On the roof of the downtown building, Yorkham Jones deduced and stood quietly on the roof of the building looking at Murphy lying in a pool of blood.

Although he had only spoken a few words with this reporter, Yorkham Jones had a good impression of him, a journalist who dared to question and dare to pursue the truth, he was a real journalist.

"Jones, life is so fragile, he was talking to us just now... But in the blink of an eye, he died in an accident..."

"yes..."

"What an accident..."

Muttering, Yorkham Jones silently left the downtown with the Grim Reaper in his arms, and chose a bus from the Cult of the Grim Reaper to chase him away.

"Jones, you're angry. ”

"yes, very angry. ”

The anger did not make Yorkham Jones lose his mind, he just quietly hugged Qinqing, and soon, they followed the bus to an ordinary family.

Hiding in the shadows, Yorkham Jones listened quietly to the conversation.

"Does it really matter? I've heard that when other people take the medicine, they go crazy. Looking at her husband lying on the bed, a woman in her thirties asked.

"Ma'am, it's just some bad reaction, it's going to go away after a while, don't you want your husband to wake up?"

"Of course I do!"

"500 Wall, right..."

"Yes ma'am, as long as you pay the money, soon your husband will wake up. ”

Raising his head slightly, Yorkham Jones could see a man lying on the bed, his skin was very pale and his body was thin to bones, as if he had been sleeping for many years, looking like a vegetative person.

Then the woman counted the 500 wales in her hand several times, and it seemed that the money was all her property.

At the same time, the man in the black suit also took out a medicine bottle, which he first mixed with needle water and injected it into the sleeping man's body.

Just after the injection, the sleeping man opened his eyes.

"Ma'am, if you have any questions, you can always call to inquire. The man in the suit put away the medicine bottle, saluted politely, then left a business card, and walked out the door with his companion.

After that, the bus went to the next place.

"Jones, this pill is amazing!" saw that the bus was far away, and immediately yelled.

"The more amazing something is, the more secrets are hidden. ”

In reply, Yorkham Jones continued to follow.

Following the bus, Yorkham Jones saw five treatments, five pills, revived a vegetative person, helped a mentally retarded person recover his IQ, helped two neuropathies return to normal, and helped an elderly family to cure Alzheimer's disease.

Is there really such a miracle medicine?

As Yorkham Jones muttered, two men in suits returned to the car.

"I'm finally done, I've already made a few trips today, shouldn't I have any?" said one person.

"Have you forgotten, in addition to selling medicines, we also have the task of buying medicines today. The other shook his head and stepped on the gas pedal again.

It's good to be favored by the world-shaper, at least luck has always been good...

Muttering, Yorkham Jones continued to follow the bus.

At the same time, Dracula, who was far away in the sea, suddenly sneezed several times:

"Does anyone miss me... Which beautiful lady could it be..."

...

In about 10 minutes, the bus went to a poor area, opened the back door of the bus and took out a white box, then built a simple plastic shed on the side of the road, and then changed into a doctor's costume and put up a sign to buy blood.

And the price is very high, 1 wall per tube smoked, it sounds impossible.

Soon, a bunch of curious people gathered around, but looking at the price marked, almost everyone thought it was a scammer.

"I don't understand why the price is set so high, if it is lower, wouldn't it be better to buy... At such a speed, I don't know how long it will take to collect it. Seeing that the crowd was just watching, a man dressed as a doctor complained.

"Stop complaining and do your job well. ”

When the man next to him shook his head, a beggar walked over:

"Can I sell it?"

"Of course, it's limited to five tubes. The man shaking his head immediately opened the white box and motioned for the beggar to sit down.

The white box contained many white vials, but they were so small that they didn't look like they were used to hold blood, and each vial had a black needle attached to it.

From the needle, Yorkham Jones could see the fluctuations of supernatural power.

"What the hell are they going to charge..."

As Yorkham Jones muttered, the first syringe was inserted into the beggar's body, and slowly, a cloud of gray gas flowed into the vial with the needle.

At the same time, the beggar's eyes were a little glazed, and even the raised hand was much slower than before.

Soul!

It's actually a soul!

When he roared inwardly, a huge wave had already rolled up in Yorkham Jones's heart, and for the first time he had seen this method of collecting souls, it was like cutting a piece from the whole soul.

It's a wound that can never be repaired, and when the soul is missing, it's lost forever.

As the five bottles of soul were retrieved, the beggar's pupils diated a few times, and the previous essence dissipated a lot, as if some of his IQ and various things had been lost.

His body became a little sluggish, but he didn't notice it, he just grinned happily and counted the money in a stammering voice.

At this moment, a burst of killing intent welled up in Yorkham Jones's heart, and he wanted to kill.

"Jones, are you going to make a move?" asked softly, sensing Yorkham Jones' anger and murderous intent.

Yorkham Jones didn't reply, he pulled out 'Night Vanilla' and fired two shots.

As the gunshots fell, two men in suits dressed as doctors fell straight into a pool of blood.

Then, Jokham Jones picked up the child and walked home.

...

In the evening, Yorkham Jones sat alone at the window, he quietly looked at the sea, at the raging waves, his pupils closed and closed, and he seemed to be afraid.

"This beautiful world..."

"It's so dirty..."

When he knew that it was the soul that was collected, Yorkham Jones also knew why the vegetative, the mentally ill, the demented were able to recover, because they were all filled with a part of someone else's soul.

Yorkham Jones knew very well that this harm went both ways, and that those who lacked souls could never complete their souls, they would always be missing a part of it.

And those who get souls, their own souls will become a stitching monster, and then they will keep clashing, and eventually they will fall into complete madness.

This is not saving people at all, but destroying the world, and this is simply a disaster as terrifying as the Age of Destruction.