Chapter Thirty: One Strike, One Shot

The sun dipped below the horizon, and darkness swallowed the land, only to be pushed back by the relentless flicker of neon lights.

As Song Shi stepped out of the inn, the fluorescent signs of various establishments had already been powered up. A chaotic, dazzling array of colors flashed, making one’s head spin.

The urban planning of the Deep Moss District was far too cramped, and its consumer base had limited spending power; consequently, holographic projection advertisements that covered entire skyscraper facades were a rare sight here.

Most signs and billboards here relied on LED neon tubes to illuminate their text. The principle was simple: evacuate the air from the tube, fill it with a small amount of inert gas, seal it, and then use electrodes at both ends to discharge high-voltage electricity, ionizing the gas to produce a vibrant, multicolored glow.

The most frequent "holographic projections" people saw were the large airships that occasionally streaked across the sky above, showcasing massive advertisements on their flanks.

"The air doesn't smell great," Song Shi thought as he strolled down the street.

Of course, that was a redundant observation.

While passing by a secluded alleyway, a frivolous voice suddenly rang out from his side.

"Hey, boss, looks like a student—"

Before the words were even finished, two figures had closed in, loosely surrounding Song Shi.

As if to show off, the shorter of the two rested an arm on the taller one's shoulder, while his other hand remained exposed—a clearly oversized mechanical prosthetic, its surface marred by shallow bullet craters and the crude remnants of rivets.

Although it was likely second-hand—or perhaps tenth-hand—and didn't match the man's frame, it was still a prosthetic, and breaking a person's bones with it would be effortless.

"Let me take a look. All clean and polished... tell me, boss, could this be a 'good student,' a little goody-two-shoes?"

The short man tilted his head toward the one he called "boss," grinning as if there were no one else around.

"Do you know what this is?"

The tall man, whose features were somewhat milder, stepped forward and pulled down his collar, deliberately revealing a tattoo spreading across his neck. It was faintly discernible as a dagger being driven into a pool of blood.

"We are members of 'Reckless Blood.' You must have heard the name—no, it's impossible that you haven't. So, please, don't play dumb later, alright?"

The tall man emphasized his words, stepping closer until his target was forced to retreat, on the verge of being swallowed by the pitch-black alley behind him.

Not far away, the short man leaned against the wall to block the exit, still grinning, though he now held a black dagger, flicking it back and forth casually.

"Now, we brothers would like to borrow some money from you."

The tall man pointed to his tattoo, then to the short man, who waved his dagger and raised his voice: "In short! Hand over anything valuable, now!"

"What are you saying! We are borrowing money, not robbing! Watch yourself!"

The tall man scolded the short one, then turned to Song Shi with a look of apology. "Sorry, did he startle you? My brother is a bit impatient and doesn't know how to speak properly."

"However," the tall man sighed, his tone gentle, "please hurry up. Otherwise, I might not be able to restrain my bro—"

Then, his head fell off.

The head, still holding a lingering smirk, rolled across the ground. Only then did the massive spray of blood erupt from his neck, followed by the dull thud of his body collapsing.

Song Shi retracted his entrenching tool and hopped backward to avoid the splatter. The coat he had just bought shouldn't be wasted like this.

"Too much talking... you're interfering with my dinner."

Song Shi said slowly, flicking the tool a few times. Thanks to its waterproof coating, the blood beads slid off quickly.

"If you had played the part of a biker gang to rob me, you might have actually succeeded. But to just jump out like this... what were you thinking?"

Only then did the short man nearby seem to truly react to what had just happened.

Unable to distinguish between rage, terror, or a mix of both, the short man trembled uncontrollably, clutching his dagger, his mouth agape. "You... you killed Frank, you—"

Then, with a *pop*, his head exploded.

Like a watermelon that appeared intact on the outside but was rotten within, a negligible impact was all it took for the whole thing to burst in an instant—a drizzling spray of red pulp and mushy brain matter painted everything in the vicinity.

"Both of your blades were practically poking into my eyes. Am I not even allowed to fight back?"

Song Shi shook his head, tucked the black-powder pistol back into his inner coat lining, and folded the entrenching tool to store it on the other side.

He looked at the two corpses and sighed again. "Besides... you aren't members of 'Reckless Blood.' Though, using 'disposable tattoo stickers' instead of real ink to intimidate people... that actually takes some imagination."

Turning his gaze away, Song Shi stepped over the bodies.

"However, the dead are to be respected. May you find peace."

...

"Boss, one hot dog, two iron-plate burgers, and a bottle of water."

In front of a small stall, the furnace roared and heat waves billowed. Hearing a new customer, the sweating owner responded and began to cook.

Song Shi leaned against a nearby wall, waiting while reflecting on what had just occurred.

He had heard of "Reckless Blood."

It was the largest gang in the entire Deep Moss District, controlling sugar, weapons trafficking, physical industries, sex work, gambling, and more. Supported by immense financial resources, it was said that their elite members even utilized military-grade equipment.

The current leader of Reckless Blood, Tang Leiketon, was known as the "Blood-Bathed Butcher," boasting a 40% cybernetic modification rate—a walking, breathing killing machine.

This was why those two guys had chosen to use the name "Reckless Blood" for their robbery; everyone in the Deep Moss District knew that it was best not to anger them.

Compared to "Reckless Blood," the "Cross Tiger Society" that had held his high-interest loans not long ago was like a tiny kitten, not worth mentioning.

"—In other words, 'Reckless Blood' is the most fawning, loyal dog to the corporations in the entire Deep Moss District."

Song Shi narrowed his eyes and reached his conclusion.

Gangs that harbored thoughts of declaring independence, carving out territory, building strength, and negotiating with the government... such groups would likely be crushed by the corporations the moment they began to rise.

The high-and-mighty corporations wouldn't care how powerful an underground gang was—after all, no matter how strong they became, they could never be stronger than the corporations. There was only one thing they required: "loyalty."

The Deep Moss District was indeed the "dumping ground" of Palose, but even a dumping ground had its value, especially since it contained nearly sixty percent of the population—a precious asset.

Corporations led by Emerald Pharmaceuticals and the United Government could not truly turn a blind eye and let it slip out of their control.

But increasing the number of patrol officers, installing surveillance equipment, and implementing comprehensive urban management systems were too costly and not worth the investment.

Supporting an underground gang, however, was perfect.

It kept costs under control while ensuring the Deep Moss District didn't truly slip from their grasp—in such a scenario, even if major crimes occurred here, they wouldn't easily implicate high-ranking government officials.

After all, these were just things that happened while you were "left to your own devices." Since we didn't intervene, it naturally had nothing to do with us.

As for minor issues like the gang lacking strength, having outdated equipment, or suffering from insufficient funds...

The corporations only needed to let a negligible amount of resources slip through their fingers, and it would be enough for the gang to leap forward and be reborn.

This was the order established by the corporations.