The abandoned slaughterhouse in the south side of Chicago was filled with the mixed stench of rotting meat and burning graphics cards. Leo kicked a half-eaten coyote skull with the tip of his shoe, and the sole of his boot was stained with black Bitcoin mining machine lubricant. The dark red light seeped through the rust of the ventilation duct, shining on the titanium fangs of Victor Scarjaw, the leader of the Chicago Iron Claw Gang - that thing was just replaced last year, and it is said that it can bite through the door of the Federal Reserve vault.
"A stray dog from Wall Street." Victor licked the blood on the tip of his fangs. Three twitching werewolf drug dealers lay at his feet. Their claws were still unconsciously scratching the floor with the Federal Reserve eagle emblem. "Take your broken code and go back to Manhattan."
Two lines of data flashed across Leo's retina:
**> Target adrenaline level: Lycanthropy threshold 87%
> Bribe account ready: 327.4 BTC**
He kicked away the remains of the mining machine at his feet, revealing the Iron Claw Party totem painted with wolf blood underneath. "I heard that your silver futures positions were squeezed out by the blood clan?"
The pupil of Victor's mechanical right eye shrank to a pinpoint - Leo smelled the smell of gun oil coming from the opponent's armpit. The Chicago Wolves did not believe in financial warfare in suits and ties, they believed in large-caliber shotguns and methamphetamine.
"Bitcoins can't buy the coordinates of the arsenal." Victor lifted up the slaughter table, revealing the sizzling mining machine matrix underneath. Each machine was plugged with a barbed IV tube—the werewolf drug dealer's veins were connected to the cooling system. "But maybe I can buy your whole body."
**Flashback: Warning from the Elders of the Canadian Icefields Group Three Days Ago**
*"The Iron Claw gang is mixing drugs with Vampire gene inhibitors… They want to turn the entire Midwestern wolf pack into puppets."*
Leo's nails dug into his palms. He could hear Victor's heartbeat - two human frequencies sandwiched between a wolf howl, a typical symptom of late-stage genetic contamination.
"Then change the algorithm." He called up the holographic projection, and 327.4 bitcoins rotated between the two of them like a noose. "Do you know why the blood clan allowed you to build a drug factory? Because every gram of viral methamphetamine dilutes the wolf clan's gene chain."
A miniature gun barrel suddenly popped out of Victor's mechanical eye. Leo was 0.3 seconds faster than him - the Wolf King's Eye predicted the trajectory of the ballistic missile.
The screams of dying graphics cards echoed throughout the factory as the shotgun shells shattered three mining machines. Leo's suit was scorched by the nanosilver shrapnel, but he smelled something more important: the fear pheromone secreted by Victor's glands.
"Seven coordinates." Leo stepped on the interface of Victor's mechanical arm, and the Bitcoin noose was tightened around his neck. "Or I can let these mining machines perform a computing anal fissure."
Victor's fangs crushed his tongue: "Fuck you Hua-Ah!"
Leo pressed the virus code that had already hacked into the mine system.
When eight thousand graphics cards exploded into scarlet fireworks at the same time, Victor's screams were drowned out by the avalanche of hash values. The IVs inserted into the werewolf drug dealer's veins suddenly backflowed, and the Bitcoin mining machines spewed out burning US dollar ashes like a giant beast that had been disemboweled.
Leo's retina was flooded with alarms:
**> Genetic pollution detected monetization protocol
> Each gram of methamphetamine contains 0.01BTC hashrate binding**
Ashes condensed in the air into the blood clan's silver family emblem, which was shattered by his wolf howl. A dying drug dealer suddenly twitched and raised his mobile phone. On the screen was the real-time updated Chicago Mercantile Exchange silver futures quotes - the eighth decimal place began to bleed.
"The arsenal is on the third floor underground of the old federal vault!" Victor roared, spitting out mechanical parts, "But you will regret it... Silver Manor has long since..."
Leo snapped his titanium fangs: "Save some lines for my dying confession."
Three hundred miles away, in the underground monitoring room of DOA's New York headquarters, Agent Irene Wu (number X-13β)'s retinal projection was replaying the thermal imaging afterimage captured by the satellite. In the picture, when Leo dodged the shotgun, there was a 0.7 second outline distortion - a biomagnetic field fluctuation that ordinary humans could not produce.
"Eclipse Protocol activated." She dripped nanoworm carrier fluid into her iris, and the stinging sensation was like being scratched by a wolf's fang. "The target has been confirmed to have genetic reconstruction. Request for implantation of a Class III tracking program."
The holographic screen suddenly flickered. A surveillance clip that should have been deleted automatically played: In the basement of the Federal Reserve in 1948, a man in a white coat was injecting werewolf spinal fluid into the mother dollar. His name tag read *Dr. Wu Tianyou*.
Irene's nanoworms suddenly went into hibernation.
When Leo walked out of the slaughterhouse, the eastern sky was filled with sickly silver light. He threw the fragments of Victor's fangs into the embers of the Bitcoin mining machine, and suddenly an encrypted broadcast came from the fire - it was the sweet voice of the host of the financial channel raised by the vampires:
---
"…Chicago Mercantile Exchange denies system anomalies, silver futures rose by a record amount today…"
The radio was suddenly covered by the noise of wild beasts. Leo's Wolf King Eyes automatically analyzed the runes hidden in the sound waves:
**ᚱᚢᚾᛟ ᚠᛖᚢᚾᛞ** (The prey has been caught)
The inside pocket of his suit suddenly felt hot. A Viking ship relief had appeared on his mother's bracelet at some point, and the scratches that were supposed to be decorative were bleeding, forming a miniature map of Chicago on the ground - the coordinates pointing to the federal vault were crossed out, and a burning wolf head mark appeared next to it.
Behind him, there was the sound of a rotting graphics card exploding. Leo didn't look back, but the surveillance alarm in the corner of his retina showed that five drones had just entered Chicago's airspace, with the DOA wolf claw and scale emblem printed on their wings.
The bracelet suddenly tightened, carving a new wound on his wrist bone. As the blood dripped, the ground vaguely emerged the outline of a Viking longship in 895 AD, with a werewolf who looked like him sitting on the bow, melting English silver coins into claw blades.
In the ruins of the slaughterhouse, a mining machine that had not been destroyed suddenly restarted. The screen flashed twice and a sentence popped up:
**Satoshi log excerpt loading...**