It is now around 4 pm, and there is still a lot of time before the opening of the Big Bird Bar. Turing can make more arrangements around his home, and then go to the hospital to solve the problem of grandfather's surgical fee, and just visit his grandfather's physical condition.

But there is no hurry.

Turing pops up the molecular deciphering line, connects it to his mobile phone, and conducts daily routine brain exercises. This is his compulsory homework for the past few days.

I am proficient in my mobile phone, routinely patrolling the programs and data in it, and then trying to pass through several ports through the home wireless network, searching in the huge data stream for a while, and then I can stop trying it.

After several days of practice, Turing has mastered the threshold for the brain's information to withstand.

If it is just a mobile phone or a single appliance, it can quickly read all the data inside. With a simple local area network, it can pass through the data inside without any trouble and search for data.

But once you pass through the wireless network or directly connect the network cable at home with a molecular deciphering line, the ocean containing a huge amount of information will quickly destroy it.

Fortunately, although you can't just surf, you can pick up shells on the beach.

Perhaps other technologies can enhance nerve and brain efficiency in the future, but from the current perspective, Turing can only practice slowly and gradually adapt.

If you want to reach the level of breaking through the central computer firewall of the Huguang organization like last time, you can read all the data inside at any time regardless of health damage.

But the consequences were also serious. Since then, Turing's early symptoms were nosebleeds and severe dizziness. In the following days, his nose would be blocked from time to time, and his breathing would increase and rush out, which would flow out a translucent colloid, clear and colorless. Turing used a tissue to save some and asked the doctor, and then he realized that the thing was cerebrospinal fluid.

This made him more careful when using molecular deciphering lines later, and did not touch some network ports with large data volumes at will, and tried to only conduct intrusion exercises in the local area network.

Sitting on the sofa, Turing took a deep breath and exited the connection to his phone.

Looking at the cloudy day and the whistling wind outside the window, Turing changed into a thicker dress and put the clothes he had when he was a gray fox into a suitcase and went out.

Strolling along the sidewalk, Turing scanned the slightly empty streets around him, looking for an area where implants can be grown as sentinels. A hawker pushing a hot dog stall passed by him.

The vendor had brown curly hair, a little freckles spread on his high nose bridge, his eyes were slightly lowered, and he was wearing an orange-yellow work waistline of a franchise store vendor, and a square baseball cap on his head.

Even though the weather was very cold, the vendor felt the heat in his clothes because of the cart, and pulled his collar.

"Click!"

With a light sound, a can of red ketchup fell off the cart. Turing stopped and picked it up and handed it to him with accent thanks.

In the past few days, mechanical bugs have covered a certain area around them. Turing distributed them within a range of 1,500 meters according to the general conditions of the block.

Through the vision and voice transmitted by the mechanical insects, he also learned about the general situation of several nearby "neighbors".

From the focus to the high point, the first thing is this hawker.

Non-Mu people live in a rental house two blocks away from Turing. They set up stalls at the door of the rental house every morning, near a bookstore at noon, and near Turing's home near the evening. They run around for life every day, push a hot dog stall.

Say goodbye to the vendor and buy a cheese hot dog with local dog-style sausages in the other party's sales.

Since the nearby restaurants are not close, Turing doesn't like to eat fried foods with fast food. Recently, he has been ordering takeout and sometimes he buys hot dogs from vendors, which is quite familiar to him.

Turing walked half a block and stopped.

Opposite the two-lane street, there is an old-looking building, a relatively traditional Western-style building, which is broken many places and is supplemented by the owner with iron materials, plus the gray-yellow traces and dead plants above, which looks relatively shabby.

This is a bookstore with an elderly librarian. From time to time, there will be Muguo students who come from 800 miles away to work part-time here, and their faces will be changed every day.

When I moved a few days ago, Turing signed up for a batch of mechanical theory books ordered online. In the past few days, I also visited this bookstore and bought some old books.

Turing thought for a while, walked into the alley next to him, and planted a child in a hidden place behind the wall.

Walking out of the alley from the other side, there were two tattooed men smoking at the entrance of the alley, with black leather jackets, and a thick and reflective punk hairstyle. One of them had a black and white tattoo of skeletons on his lower half of his face, aiming at the Turing who was passing over them with a very arrogant look.

There is a motorcycle club in this area, a road gang stronghold called [Storm Wind].

These two men in black leather clothes are also members of the gang.

But these people never collect protection fees on Xiajin Street, nor do they do much robbery or stealing. But these people have another characteristic, that is, they will conduct street racing at night.

Through observations over the past few days, the group of people has held a total of 38 car races. Nine are held during the day and 29 are held at night. However, they are not on Xiajin Street, but on the edge of Dongyan District (the urban area where Xiajin Street is located). There are several tracks belonging to the Wind Gang, and it is prohibited to allow any vehicle to pass after 11 pm. If you want to pass forcibly, the other party will forcefully collect "race interference compensation" from the owner.

But if a police car passes by at night, the Fierce Wind Gang will quickly stop occupying the road, but will not terminate the competition for this, and will even chase the police car in the suburbs.

One night Turing observed the other party's track starting point through the mechanical bug for a while and found that the rider who escaped from the police would win the reward of the Fierce Wind Gang, who took pride in racing the police cars.

Walking to the entrance of a large shop full of locomotives, Turing saw through the glass wall and saw various exhibition locomotives inside. The one occupying C position was a tall modified locomotive, painted in Pikachu yellow color blocks, full of mechanical feeling.

Below this car, there is also a prominent label, written in a combination of crooked Mandarin and English:

【evil    Dog Boy’s Car】

Although I don’t know what the trend is, Turing still planted eight phantom limbs around the gang and arranged some mechanical insects to pay special attention.

"Hey, boy. Do you want to buy a car?"

As soon as he finished planting his body, a strong man in a patent leather vest sprayed a mouthful of smoke at him from a distance.

"No, thank you."

Turing refused and prepared to leave for the next area.

But what he didn't expect was that the strong man walked up quickly and called out Turing.

"Are you new here? I haven't seen you nearby before."

The strong man was wearing a pair of sunglasses, a black turban on his head, and a piece of beard on his face looked a little funny.

The upper body was wearing nothing except a colorful and black patent leather vest, revealing its strong tattooed arms and abdominal muscles. An electronic cigarette was sandwiched in the black half-finger gloves, with a green LED lamp on it.

"Is there anything wrong?" Turing frowned when he thought the other party was in trouble.

Then this person who was suspected to be a store owner opened his mouth and said a lot.

The strong man spoke with a very distorted accent, which made Turing feel a little unreal about what he was saying.

After hearing about him alone for about three minutes, Turing understood what this person meant.

Generally speaking, this store sells cars. If you are interested in motorcycles and modified cars, you can buy them from him. And he also mysteriously told Turing that there are beauties and car racing every night, and there will be several games tonight. He asked him if he wants to go and participate in the gambling game, but he has to buy audience tickets.

Turing was ashamed and declined the other party's proposal with some amusement.

Then the owner of the motorcycle shop pestered Turing and asked him if he would buy an electric car, and they also sold it here.

After a while, Turing realized that because Xiajin Street is empty and located in the suburbs of Dongyan District, this motorcycle store is also a local scooter tycoon in addition to selling modified cars and gangs...

Sure enough, there are companies behind the scenes...

After repeatedly refusing the proposal of the gang boss, Turing was able to escape.

"However, it's time to get a car. Who would have thought that as a mercenary, I would even take Didi to catch people..."

After taking a last look at the motorcycle shop, Turing continued to spread phantom limbs around him, including the entire Xiajin Street.

In addition to the nearby surrounding buildings above, there are also rental houses, shopping malls, various small shops and foreign restaurants, fast food restaurants and gas stations and other places...

After completely covering the phantom limbs, Turing took an online car to go to the hospital. Seeing the other party taking orders twelve kilometers away, he was speechless.

“The transportation in this place is indeed inconvenient.”

So Turing sat in the steel waiting station and waited quietly, and closed his eyes to check the mechanical insects' patrol.

And at this moment, a voice called it back to his eyes.

"Mr. Turing?"

Opening his eyes, a disabled man who had lost his legs slid towards Turing in his wheelchair.
Chapter completed!