"This..."

The town mayor actually wanted to say, "Is that all?" but he changed his words before speaking, lowering his voice. "No problem, I can make arrangements for you, but it will likely have to wait until evening."

Li Ang nodded. "Evening will not be an issue."

Actually, the Snow Queen had always encouraged inclusiveness and peace. Her church was open to all humans and non-human species, even filthy, barbaric, cruel, and ignorant ones like the Dog-headed Goblins, who could freely enter and worship.

Since the church distributed water and bread for free, some homeless people and beggars frequently stayed overnight. (These individuals weren't truly vagrants. Instead, they were ordinary residents who had committed politically incorrect errors, spoken out of turn, lost their jobs, and were subsequently denied aid by social assistance centers. Actual homeless individuals, with the help of these centers, had all found good employment.) This made it difficult to find the church empty.

Therefore, the mayor planned to organize a large gathering in the evening between the African residents and the local townspeople.

During the gathering, a small corner would be set aside for the homeless, freeing up the church.

Li Ang chatted with the mayor for a few more moments, discussing experiences with the operation of NBA events. Then the mayor sent people to prepare for the gathering, while also directing someone to lead Li Ang and his team to the church and, incidentally, to "invite out" the homeless within.

Li Ang thanked the mayor, called the lumberjack and his teammates, and, led by the mayor's secretary, headed towards the church at the town center.

All the way there, the atmosphere among the team was quite tense. The lumberjack, Frederick, was still reminiscing about the exciting match he had just seen, muttering something to himself.

John Joyce, Smoker, and Julia wore embarrassed faces, remaining silent.

Meanwhile, the old black man, Bob, had an even darker expression, as if his face could merge with the color of the evening sky.

Guided by the mayor's secretary, the group arrived at the church's entrance. It was a Gothic-style church built from massive white stones, with two tall, slender spires reaching up to the clouds. Atop each spire stood a snowflake-shaped sculpture.

Usually, the mayor's secretary – the mayor's nephew – would have been quite eager to introduce the history of the Snow Queen's church to outsiders, as it was their town's most glorious building.

But now, the young man's mind was filled with thoughts of the basketball game and the upcoming gathering, lacking the interest to provide a detailed introduction.

He instead entered the church directly and spoke with the Priest inside (to oppose gender discrimination, the term "Priest" was used in the Queen's church instead of "Father," and there were no gender barriers to the priesthood).

A few minutes later, the Priest left through the back door, and the homeless who had been praying and repenting inside were also led out by the mayor's secretary.

After the secretary left, the church and the streets were empty, leaving only the players and the lumberjack.

Li Ang rubbed his hands together and was about to step over the threshold when he was halted by the old black man, Bob.

"Friend,"

Bob stood on the steps leading to the church, squinting at Li Ang, his fingers gently resting on the trigger of his double-barreled shotgun. He said, enunciating each word, "Next time, please don't joke about the color of someone's skin, okay?"

SIGH.

Julia sighed heavily, a headache apparent as she covered her forehead. With a casual wave of her hand, she knocked out the lumberjack, who was oblivious to the situation.

Infighting is always the most troublesome issue in a player team. If the players came from the same cultural circle, the same country, with similar cultures and skin colors, then it would be more manageable; at least they wouldn't have completely opposing worldviews. However, the players in this mission came from all over the world, with different skin colors, and it was hard to say if they could all work together unanimously.

This Brother Dao, who was well-versed in Eastern culture, had just used a bunch of nonsense to successfully clear the church for them, avoiding conflict or triggering potential threats. However, the means he had used did indeed carry a tint of mockery and ridicule.

The old black man, Bob, having suffered discrimination in the real world due to his skin color, was particularly sensitive to this. The fact that he had kept his cool during the comic routine earlier was a testament to his composure.

Now, with the streets empty, it was the perfect opportunity to have a "discussion" with this Brother Dao.

"I know that the people here are different from us. This land is also not the land we live on," Bob said with an expressionless face, deliberately avoiding words like "scripted world" to prevent eavesdropping. "But I don't like the joke you made, and I find such behavior repulsive. If you do it again..."

The old black man's fingers gently caressed the trigger of his double-barreled shotgun, an aura of iron-blooded ferocity coalescing around him.

"Calm down, brother, calm down," John Joyce quickly grabbed Bob's shoulder. "Don't get worked up, okay? Brother Dao was just using a little trick; he didn't mean you any harm..."

"You're saying that making jokes about an African American with watermelon, grape soda, and fried chicken isn't malicious?"

Bob swept John Joyce with a fierce glance. "This matter has nothing to do with you. Step aside."

Facing the dark muzzles of the shotgun, John Joyce helplessly raised his hands and slowly backed away.

"The mission's just started and we're already having infighting..." Smoker, the lanky Latino youth, muttered to himself. Like John Joyce, he also took a few steps back.

Meanwhile, Julia waved her hand, unleashing an invisible force that dragged the unconscious lumberjack backward. She retreated to stand with John and the others, clearing a space for Li Ang and Bob.

HMPH.

Bob glanced at his retreating teammates and snorted coldly. Turning to Li Ang, he said, "Don't think I don't know you're Asian. Listen, I can let bygones be bygones about what happened before, but on the upcoming journey, you'd better not joke about skin color again."

Bob had a certain understanding of mysticism; one of his skills was to ignite voodoo objects, inhale the smoke, and see from the perspective of someone within his line of sight.

Previously, while Li Ang was performing his comic routine, Bob, hiding behind the crowd, had quietly switched to the perspective of a regular townsfolk. He saw how Li Ang appeared to the residents of this world (blurred by the System, his specific appearance unknown), knowing that he was an Asian young man.

Only African American brothers and sisters can freely use the word 'Negro' and make jokes about it.

Others making such jokes are definitely considered racist, something that would be met with universal scorn and disdain in the United States.

"What joke?" Li Ang asked, his expression bewildered in the face of Bob's threat. "Are you talking about the word 'Negro'?"

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