Accurately speaking, Yura is in the smuggling business—smuggling people and large volumes of illegal goods in and out of Eden City, which is the routine operation of Raven International Company in Eden City.

Yura can track down every blacklisted person of Palmer.

Red Falcon was once one of her clients.

A retired soldier arrived in Eden City wearing combat boots and carrying a cross-country bag.

Becoming a mercenary was Yura's suggestion.

Red Falcon worked for Palmer for a while.

They were quite close.

No one expected that a simple job would lead to Raft Qi crashing in the city.

Red Falcon realized things had gotten out of hand.

She wanted to leave Eden City.

Yura, as the middleman, lent her a hand, hoping to give this young girl a way out.

Oulos thoroughly investigated their interactions.

Behind her black-rimmed glasses, a stream of data flickered.

"Didn't see this coming, did you? The situation is escalating. Let me count how many people are involved..."

Raqi Group has realized there's a survivor.

They are using their power to infiltrate Palmer, openly deploying reconnaissance drones into other districts, and secretly, company soldiers and mercenaries are penetrating.

The West District is also looking for Red Falcon.

Jingke Heavy Industry and Black Gold Gang can't possibly swallow the blame for the hovercar crash quietly, can they?

"And there's the municipal government, ECPD and SAT must have results to report, otherwise the annual security rating will reset, directly impacting financial allocations..."

As Oulos spoke, her smile grew wider, yet her gaze turned increasingly ruthless.

"Ah, and who else? Right, your boss, Raven International must have received the news, right? Didn't they tell you not to wade into troubled waters!?"

Yura squinted her eyes and took a deep breath, seemingly suppressing some impulse.

The human wall surrounding the warehouse closed in once more.

John indeed felt the pressure.

However, Oulos seemed oblivious.

"Don't scare me with the corpse in the freezer. Let me guess, in a fit of anger, you killed the company's scouts, and now, do you believe that if you kill one more, a hovercar will flip your shelter?"

Oulos's guess was spot-on.

Initially, there were inquiries about Red Falcon's whereabouts, but now the forces pressing her do not mention this anymore.

This implies:

The company and municipal government are considering whether to deal with Yura as well!

"Sangma Rebi Pool, who are you really?"

Yura's expression changed as she looked at her.

Oulos hadn't finished speaking, shook her head, and even glanced at John beside her.

"You must be thinking, so what? Company dogs or city council, at worst, we'll just fight them!"

She said this for John to hear.

Yura's gaze shifted between the two.

Oulos's expression darkened, and her tone became serious.

"Many people rely on you for food, and many clients depend on you to flee Eden City!"

This sentence was like a nail pounding into Yura's brow.

The binding strap she held tightly in her hand.

The hovercar crash disturbed a group of powerful bastards.

Now all the major corporations and the municipal government are watching the port and border walls; the partial lockdown has made it difficult for people and goods to flow in and out of the city.

Yura standing up for Red Falcon directly impacts her smuggling business.

Now her ship, her clients, are all stranded at Palmer.

Everyone wanting to leave Eden City has reasons that cannot stand scrutiny and enemies they cannot afford to provoke.

They cannot wait.

Over time, some "fugitives" with sensitive identities will be implicated by Red Falcon and tracked down by vengeful enemies in the city.

Grumble—

The rolling bubbly water was stopped by Oulos's toe.

Her gaze shifted upward, the expression behind her black-rimmed glasses filled with mockery, not clear who the statement was directed to.

"Choose one, will you stubbornly back Red Falcon? Or will you take responsibility for the clients who trust you?"

"Ha, fuck."

Yura exchanged a smile with the burly man standing beside her.

"Why should I hand the person over to you? After all, you haven't even given a price today, who taught you to do business like this?"

"No matter how much I offer, you're not going to hand them over to me. Fools are like that, knowing the thing burns their mouth, yet refusing to spit it out even when they can't swallow."

Oulos remained aloof.

She no longer glanced directly at the middleman across.

Yura's frustration was almost palpable.

She looked displeased at Oulos yet was hesitant to put another body in the freezer due to some fear.

Maybe simply because John was present, it was inconvenient to kill Oulos.

"Forget it, either shoot or leave."

Oulos had exhausted everyone's patience before raising a finger.

"I can provide Red Falcon a way out, the only way out, so your conscience will be less troubled, willing to relent?"

"What do you mean, wait, you're the one who gave her jobs, aren't you?"

Yura licked her back molar with her tongue.

"The stench comes from you, does it!? Pretending to be the good guy."

She nodded at John.

"Hey, mercenary, did you hear that? The job went south, and the middleman says they'll give you a way out. Do you believe it?"

A chorus of laughter echoed through the warehouse.

Edgerunners might be skillful, capable, and have tricks, but to most middlemen, they're merely tools to be chosen.

Street legends certainly sound impressive.

But if you really look into it…

Everyone has been screwed over by employers and middlemen.

The so-called reputable "agency" just does things with a bit more decorum, but none of them are truly good, with numerous ways to kill.

Of course.

Edgerunners are not easy prey either.

Red Falcon's type, who stirs up trouble, is not in the minority.

Both sides are like the relationship between "underground clinic" and "patient," shrouded in darkness, mutually suspicious yet trusting.

It's an industry tacit rule.

Oulos paid no attention to Yura's jibe, merely observing her quietly.

Until the laughter died down.

Yura truly understood:

Oulos, as a behind-the-scenes employer, had detailed intelligence, her appearance at Palmer indicated she was here to clean up rather than muddy the waters, pulling herself out from the mess.

Mockery proved ineffective.

She could only bear the embarrassment herself and ask proactively.

"What are you going to do?"

"Tell me Red Falcon's whereabouts, let people know I'm chasing her, those who want her dead will focus on me, and mercenaries, they're just workers, the mastermind is the one who should be silenced."

"Can you handle it?"

Yura retorted with the same words.

Oulos shook her head.

"That's not your concern."

"Ha, I'd love to tear your skin off, see what you're made of."

Yura signaled her goons to watch them.

Sitting relaxed on the folding chair, she slightly lifted her head, her optical eye flickering and changing, seemingly verifying the information, while the surrounding gunmen thoroughly blocked the exit.

John knew the negotiation was over.

Whether the deal would succeed depended entirely on the information Yura uncovered.

All eyes in the warehouse focused on this aging middleman.

Except for Oulos.

She calmly rose, timing it perfectly.

The yellow stream in Yura's optical eye vanished, her face revealing surprise and doubt, scrutinizing the woman before her.

After a long time, she let out a signature cold laugh.

"Ha, Oulos Grenada..."

Some revelations are more terrifying than a self-introduction by the person themselves.

"I've seen a ghost."

Yura waved it off, no longer dwelling on it, and shared a coordinate.

She visibly grew silent, angry, even somewhat depressed—as if realizing once she understood who was before her, she couldn't interfere anymore.

Perhaps she could, but it wasn't necessary.

Yura had to take responsibility for clients other than "Red Falcon."

That was Oulos's reminder, as well as a warning.

John couldn't imagine:

What kind of information did Yura receive in those few minutes?

But he genuinely felt—some things are more persuasive than having a gun pointed at your head.

This is the difference between middlemen.

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