For the next few days, Li Ang stayed holed up in his budget motel room, poring over months' worth of newspapers. He gradually familiarized himself with the nuances of this modern world.
To streamline his information gathering, he purchased an old laptop from a secondhand market. Using Gotham's underground social networks, he found a broker who specialized in illegal dealings and obtained a full set of forged citizen identification documents.
By the time his preparations were complete, his wallet was utterly empty. As the old saying goes, "A penny can stop a hero in his tracks." Li Ang, once a Nascent Soul cultivator, still had his principles and wouldn't resort to using his powers to exploit others for personal gain.
Besides, this world wasn't devoid of supernatural forces. The newspapers and TV were filled with stories about superheroes, whose extraordinary powers left even Li Ang in awe:
The Flash, who traversed dimensions to gain super speed.The Hulk, who crossed the void with brute strength.Superman, a living deity.Professor X, whose mind was a labyrinth of control and power.
And then there was SHIELD, a leviathan-like organization lurking in the shadows of this superpower-driven nation.
With his current abilities nowhere near the Foundation Establishment stage, and his new identity still precarious, Li Ang decided to keep a low profile and bide his time.
Once resolved, Li Ang began considering ways to make money.
Gotham, more isolated and insular than other cities, had a scarce Chinese population—there wasn't even a proper Chinatown. This ruled out opportunities for him to make quick money as a feng shui master or traditional Chinese doctor.
"To think a Nascent Soul cultivator like me would be reduced to working odd jobs for a living," Li Ang muttered, strolling down Gotham's streets.
He eventually came across a small Mexican restaurant named Red Armadillo, which had a "Help Wanted" sign hanging on its door. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.
The restaurant was modest in size, with redwood-themed decor. Cheap graffiti by street artists adorned the walls, and rows of wooden tables filled the space. The lunch hour had drawn a decent crowd, most of whom appeared to be of Latin American descent.
Behind the counter sat a young Mexican girl, about Li Ang's age. She had an oval face, delicate brows, and striking pale blue eyes. Her smooth, tanned skin was dotted with a few light freckles, giving her an air of youthful innocence. Her loosely braided flaxen hair draped over a simple gray plaid shirt.
By American standards, the girl was undoubtedly attractive, her slight frame exuding a minty freshness—though her modest figure might have drawn some critique.
With a professional smile, she addressed him in Spanish-accented English:
"Hello, may I take your order?"
Li Ang smiled back, revealing eight teeth, and replied in a reserved yet polite tone typical of a Chinese youth:
"Hello, I'm here to apply for the waiter position."
"Huh?" The girl raised her brows in surprise, then turned her head and called toward the kitchen in Spanish, "Dad, someone's here for the job!"
A moment later, a burly, middle-aged man with black hair and a thick mustache pushed aside the curtain of plastic beads and stepped out. He wore a white chef's uniform, and his massive arms bore faint tattoos that hinted at a rough past.
Grumbling under his breath, the man extended a calloused hand to shake Li Ang's. The latter immediately noticed the rough patches on the man's palm, index finger, and thumb, but said nothing.
"I'm Domingo, the owner here."
"Just call me Li Ang," he replied with a faint smile.
Domingo scrutinized Li Ang for a moment. "You're a student, right?"
Without hesitation, Li Ang lied effortlessly. "Yes, I'm looking to work part-time during the break. Is that a problem?"
"No, it's fine. But this is a Mexican restaurant—"
"You're wondering if I can speak Spanish?" Li Ang interrupted in fluent Spanish. "I spent some time in Brazil, so I can handle daily communication and taking orders."
In truth, Li Ang had never set foot in Brazil. Over the past few days, he had taught himself Spanish using dictionaries, radio broadcasts, and other materials he'd found in the motel.
During this time, he had also picked up basic proficiency in Russian, French, Japanese, Korean, Portuguese, and Arabic. He had even learned Cantonese by watching long-running TV dramas from Hong Kong.
With his photographic memory and extraordinary mental capabilities, learning languages was child's play compared to the arcane scriptures and esoteric techniques he had studied in his previous life.
Domingo and his daughter were momentarily stunned. Their surprise deepened when Li Ang picked up a menu from the counter, glanced at it, and recited every dish, price, and daily special from Monday to Saturday at twice the normal speed—all in Spanish.
Placing the menu back on the counter, Li Ang asked, "Is that good enough?"
Domingo smacked his lips in disbelief and muttered, "Are all Chinese people this smart?"
Li Ang shrugged. "Maybe. I've always been a quick learner."
Sighing, Domingo said, "Hours are 7 a.m. to 9 p.m., meals included but no lodging. Weekends off. Pay is weekly."
"Deal," Li Ang replied, then added, "I like listening to audiobooks with headphones while I work, but it won't affect my performance."
In reality, Li Ang had been using this method to maximize his learning efficiency. He had downloaded numerous educational materials, converted them to audio files, and loaded them onto an MP3 player. Through this, he had already self-studied the entire American K-12 curriculum and was now delving into university-level physics, advanced mathematics, and theology.
Domingo hesitated briefly before agreeing. "Fine, but if you break any plates, it's coming out of your pay. Start today, and we'll sign the paperwork tonight."
As Domingo returned to the kitchen, the girl smiled and introduced herself.
"Looks like we're coworkers now. I'm Cristina Garcia Velasquez, but just call me Cristina."
"Call me Li Ang, or just Li," he replied calmly.
Unlike most young men, Li Ang wasn't swayed by the charms of a pretty girl. To him, the pursuit of the Dao was arduous and demanding, a path for the truly extraordinary. No matter how beautiful a woman might be, beneath the surface lay mere bones.
Unaware of his detachment, Cristina asked cheerfully, "Where are you staying?"
"Motel," Li Ang replied, effortlessly delivering a prepared lie. "My parents divorced and didn't want me, so I moved out on my own."
Cristina gasped at his fabricated misfortune and awkwardly muttered an apology.
Waving it off with an air of indifference, Li Ang said, "It's no big deal. The motel's fine, aside from the unreliable water supply and noisy neighbors."
Cristina chuckled awkwardly, then asked, "So, which high school do you go to?"
"I just moved to the city," Li Ang lied again. "I'll figure out the school situation with my guardian after the summer break."