The ghoul is too easy to recognize.

Cheap, flashy prosthetic body, artificial blood vessels, a body hollowed out by illegal drugs, heavily modified surgery stitches, plus a long list of criminal wanted information scanned away.

He had a gun barrel stuffed in his mouth, immediately raised his hands, red prosthetic eye pulling on the eyebrow-less forehead.

Both scared and surprised.

Pedestrians nearby fled in all directions, slowing their steps at the edge of being killed by stray bullets, raising middle fingers in ridicule, encouraging shooting, and cursing as they moved away...

They didn't really care about an extra corpse in the alley, but blamed John for killing without warning. Bullets don't have eyes, and if they got hit by one, that would be real unlucky bastard.

Some people couldn't escape.

Like the tattoo shop behind the ghoul.

"Damn it, damn bad luck. Get the hell out! If the blood splashes on my shop's door, I swear I'll make you lick it clean!"

The shop owner glowed from head to toe.

He grimaced and spat, two rows of purple diamond-studded teeth sparkling and dizzying.

Rumble——

The rusted roll-up door was slammed down.

"Uh—hey, I say..."

The ghoul dared not move randomly, babbling like trying a high-difficulty sex doll for the first time, slowly spat out the gun barrel, then spoke in a tone of grievance and anger.

"Fucking hell, weren't you guys the ones who bought the tickets, or did I damn recognize the wrong person?"

"What tickets!?"

John lowered his rifle.

Not entirely relaxing vigilance, but observing if there were any of his accomplices around—just the punk in front of him, John would need no activation of Sianweistan to kill him.

"Old Chris's treasure hunt game, damn it, the buyer said to have two front row tickets, trade here, drive an Eisenberg's modified 577, isn't that you two?!"

The ghoul took out two black-purple chips from his open shiny jacket.

[Item: Blind Auction Tickets*2]

[Description: Permit for illegal black market transactions.]

"YEP~"

Oulos grabbed the tickets, held them high, like a child snatching toys, turned and left.

She didn't run, sipping a drink while watching around, stopping to ask nonsense at stalls selling contraband.

"Hey!"

The ghoul plucked up courage to block John.

"The balance, buddy, your chick hasn't paid off yet! You guys needed them so urgently, even appointed the session, I worked damn hard to get them!"

"Fuck..."

John discontentedly paid two hundred euros.

He caught up with Oulos, found her chatting enthusiastically with the female boss selling synthetic adrenaline, who revealed a long leg with high heels under her coat.

The inner side of her thigh had a muscle prepared for injection with coding.

She puckered red lips, recommending some powerful stuff to Oulos in a suggestive tone.

"Even the toughest mercenary would be weak as cake on you, complimentary sample included~"

"I'm really tempted, where's this drug from?"

"Gaia Cells, Longsheng Pharmaceutical, and emergency team's special supplier, we have many channels..."

"Let me think."

Oulos covered her mouth and squatted in front of the stall.

Her hood couldn't conceal the graceful chest.

Her high-end synthetic leather outfit immediately caught the boss lady's attention, silently whistling and taking a deep drag of her e-cigarette.

"Fuck, what nonsense thinking, hurry and get down to business."

John, like a partner oblivious to romance, rudely tucked Oulos under his arm and took her away.

The boss lady showed a regretful expression.

She blew a kiss towards their backs, exhaling smoke matching her hair color.

John didn't believe Oulos would be interested in lousy fake drugs.

But he knew well:

Behind the boss lady there must be a ghoul, and high-end synthetic leather could fetch a good price on the black market. Clean, maintained, and plenty of sex dolls would vie for it.

Street vendors knew goods, but not people.

A woman like Oulos, not someone to easily take advantage of.

"Who are you baiting pretending to be a fat sheep?"

John asked gloomily, putting Oulos down.

She hadn't resisted the whole time, her rebellious girl role well-played, even seeming to have gotten into character, wanting to play crazier.

"I don't know either."

Oulos looked innocent, her exaggerated expression exceedingly distressed.

John frowned.

"What if I screw things up for you? What if the target you're after comes close, and I accidentally kill them?"

"Suit yourself."

Oulos looked indifferent.

John felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity, realizing instantly—the target she was looking for was not someone he could easily take down.

Oulos wandered with John through the alleys of Palmer, until enough eyes gathered in the shadows before suddenly turning into a noisily exaggerated underground bar.

Truly underground.

You had to go through a pried open manhole cover to get there.

When Oulos jumped down, two burly men with obvious explosives were there to catch her.

John slid down the ladder, discovering the passage was incredibly narrow.

The two suited muscle men stood in the middle, effectively blocking even electronic signboards, with electronic gates on the sides, a security alarm would completely seal it off.

You'd need a bomb to solve the problem.

Even killing the two guards wouldn't work; their bodies would block the doorway, giving the patrons inside time to react.

...

John instinctively started a scan.

The two hulks were members of the Black Gold Gang—a good choice for showing off in the West District, muscles whether legitimate or not at least looked intimidating.

Competition pressure and survival costs were high in the West District.

Finding some side business was quite normal for them.

The Black Gold Gang couldn't possibly assign each member specific jobs, especially as Bone Shards expanded wildly, increasing rarity of welfare and positions.

As John's mind wandered...

Oulos had already lifted the ticket through the check.

Cameras and scanning devices were mounted on the walls, red data grids swept across the ticket, validation stripes glowed, and the guards' eyeballs shone like vending machine buttons.

"Hold on."

One guard twisted his thick neck, shrugged, and reached out to stop John, who was following behind.

"No weapons allowed inside."

"What if I say no?"

John glanced at the wall cavity beside him, inside was an automatic bagging station to store items—just toss it in, and the bag would slip deeper into the pipe, perhaps stored in a specific safe, or possibly played with by dishonest underlings, even dismantled and swapped.

He didn't trust anyone in Palmer.

The muscular guard looked pissed, but didn't directly initiate conflict, calmly making a call to the rear.

He eyeballed the duo before speaking up.

"Boss, John's here... Yeah, it's that guy."

John had accumulated a lot of [street fame] over the time he'd been out and about. In Eden City, [West District influence] was the highest.

It was perfectly normal for Black Gold Gang members to recognize him.

"Got it."

The guard returned his posture, shaking his thick neck.

"Go ahead, B30 booth."

"Oh yeah~"

Oulos, having been quietly enjoying the atmosphere, cheered and raised up her long sleeves, while carrying the drink bottle she'd brought along, squeezing inside.

John hurried to follow.

[Shops-Dead Camp Bar]

Squeezing through the narrow entrance, inside was a cheap bar even bigger than an underground garage.

No unnecessary decoration in the pure industrial style shop.

Laser lights wove nets in the dim air.

The central bar was even cobbled together from compressed scrapped cars, with a layer of alloy plate on top, unphased by the banging of oddly shaped patrons.

The strippers' work environment was quite poor too.

The so-called booths offered no privacy at all; just pay up, and girls with glowing accessories would wildly gyrate.

John followed the floor markings to find B30.

A portly man with dyed beard spread his arms, smiling.

"Hey, look who it is, the famous John, how did you think of coming to Old Chris's place~"

John didn't know him.

This wasn't the focus though.

Oulos sprang out from the digital light mist, like a mischievous fringe walker, clinging to John's back, flipping the bird at the inviting nude dancers beside them.

"Hahaha, your chick's certainly lively."

Old Chris let out a louder laugh.

As a middleman.

He didn't recognize Oulos.

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