Under the blessing of force, the order on the streets suddenly became well-organized and friendly, with the homeless lining up for meals, and nobody thinking about cutting the line or bullying others.
Sieg stood there like a sculpture, with a gaze as piercing as a laser, holding a gun like War God himself. It made Allen Zhang feel quite inferior.
The two-hour meal service quickly came to an end, yet Allen Zhang dared not relax. He pulled out his phone, compared it against the photos and portraits, and observed the lined-up Blacks one by one, quickly spotting one in the back of the queue who seemed mentally unwell.
Sieg also noticed something was off and approached to ask, "Is that him? The mentally ill person?"
"It should be him. He looks pretty much the same as the picture, just changed his clothes—everything else matches," Allen Zhang confirmed with the photo.
"What do we do now? Call the police?" Sieg asked hesitantly, "Doesn't he carry a lethal weapon on him?"
