Chapter Forty-One: Battlefield Presets

"W-wait, what are you talking about? I—"

Paul tried to speak, but the scalpel pressed against his throat tightened just enough to make him seal his lips.

"Give me screen-sharing permissions for your cybernetic eyes."

Seeing the authorization request ping immediately, Song Shi nodded. This would make it difficult for the man to pull any stunts like sneaking a message to someone else.

"From now on, do exactly as I say," Song Shi commanded. "Follow me."

"Look, I still don't understand the situation. You are..." Beads of sweat broke out on Paul's forehead as he tried to struggle one last time.

"Are you sure you want me to explain the whole thing from the beginning?" Song Shi held the scalpel, his expression calm. "I don't mind, but I can't guarantee the temperament of this blade."

Paul swallowed hard and stopped talking.

He followed Song Shi into a "Convince Transit" autonomous taxi. During the boarding process, the car's AI tacked on a 50-credit cleaning fee due to Paul's "personal hygiene status." Naturally, Paul had to pay for both of them. Watching his wallet shrink significantly, Paul cursed inwardly in agony, but he sat perfectly still, not daring to show any emotion.

Although Song Shi had sheathed the scalpel after getting in and sat with his eyes closed, Paul had no doubt about how quickly the man could strike if he tried anything. Furthermore, the brief moment the young man had "accidentally"—or perhaps deliberately—flashed a handgun earlier had extinguished any lingering thoughts of escape or combat.

At least, that’s what Paul had thought ten minutes ago.

Looking out the window at the rapidly passing scenery, which was becoming increasingly desolate and dilapidated, Paul’s heart sank, and his nerves tightened once more. They were now in a remote corner of the Deep Moss District. As far as he knew, this area consisted of unfinished, abandoned buildings left by a developer whose capital chain had snapped. Because of the remote location and the fact that the buildings were merely skeletons—lacking water, power, and protection from the elements—even scavengers and drifters rarely came here. It was truly desolate.

And desolate meant...

For a fleeting second, Paul’s face turned pale. He didn't know why someone was looking for this young man; he had seen the "Missing Person" notice in a group chat a few days ago and saved it as a memo—who knew he would actually run into the target?

Now, considering the man's calculated actions and the weapons he carried, this young man, who didn't look very old, was likely no ordinary civilian. And the person who had posted the bounty for him...

I’m in deep trouble.

Paul felt like crying. Images of gunfights, heavy firepower, and explosions flooded his mind, drawn from the R-rated movies he’d watched about gang wars and vendettas. He was just a drifter who had gone bankrupt trading crypto, but soon, he might end up as a smear of flesh and blood! Or worse, he’d be silenced after witnessing something he shouldn't have!

"Don't be nervous. I don't like killing people."

As if guessing what was on Paul's mind, Song Shi opened his eyes, lifted his head from the headrest, and sat up straight.

"However, the actual outcome depends on you, so I hope you don't do anything meaningless," Song Shi said in a gentle tone, as if making idle small talk. "From here on, just do as I say. As long as we cooperate happily, nothing bad will happen."

"Ah... haha..." Paul wiped the sweat from his forehead and forced a smile. "No problem, happy to cooperate... ha... happy to cooperate."

Cooperation was his only option. Beyond those cybernetic eyes, his only real implants were an artificial bionic lung—installed three years ago after he’d overdone it with smoking—and an embedded nutrient injector used to save money on food. He had no combat ability whatsoever; he could forget about fighting back.

And besides...

Paul cursed inwardly, *Could you please put away the gun muzzle you’re deliberately letting peek out of your coat while you say "cooperate happily"!*

Just then, the autonomous taxi came to a stop.

"Respected user, you have arrived at your destination. Please exit the vehicle as soon as possible. Your service rating for this trip will be sent to you shortly. Please remember to choose from 'Good,' 'Very Good,' 'Excellent,' or 'Superb.'"

"Convince Transit, 100% satisfaction guaranteed, wishing you an accelerated life every day—"

Song Shi ignored the message, opened the door, and signaled for Paul to follow. Paul considered the possibility of shoving the man, slamming the door, and ordering the car to accelerate away immediately, but he quickly decided to exit the vehicle obediently.

It was late autumn, and the air was growing colder. The car had stopped in the middle of the unfinished building site. Everywhere he looked, the ground was covered in gravel, mud, weeds, and trash. Rusted, bent rebar and yellowed PVC pipes protruded from the ground or lay scattered about. The distant skeleton structures, with their peeling concrete walls and exposed steel, were thick with dust, looking like a gray forest of iron.

"Stay here and don't move. Once I give you the signal, take a few pictures."

Song Shi said this, pulled out his black-powder pistol, and fired a shot at an empty, crushed soda can forty meters away.

*Bang.*

The can was blown to pieces, and a faint scent of gunpowder drifted through the air. Song Shi holstered the gun and glanced at Paul. The latter immediately raised his hands to show he wouldn't run.

Next, under Paul's watchful eyes, the man walked into an abandoned building and sat down. Around him on the floor were items like a cold, extinguished campfire, beer cans, empty instant noodle cups, and snack wrappers.

"Take them. Remember to use a candid perspective; it doesn't matter if they're a bit blurry."

Paul blinked rapidly, his cybernetic shutter snapping wildly, taking dozens of photos in one go.

"Hmm... these will do." Song Shi walked back, browsing the album and tapping a few of them.

By now, although Paul had a vague idea of what the man was planning, he gathered his courage and forced a smile. "Uh, the photos are done, so can I..."

"Of course not." Song Shi shook his head, then gave a slight nod. "It looks like you've already guessed it, so your thinking is still sharp... Come to think of it, how did you end up as a drifter?"

"If I tell you, will you let me go?" Paul asked hopefully.

"No." Song Shi was concise.

Paul was silent for a few seconds, then replied in a "what the hell" tone, "Crypto market... trading coins."

Touching on his painful past, Paul looked indignant. "I believed some investor's lies and put all my assets in. I was actually making good money at first... but then one day, the guy liquidated everything and vanished! I had nothing left!"

"Let me guess, and then this investor disappeared?"

"Yeah... how did you know?" Paul was stunned.

Song Shi sighed and didn't answer.

"Send the photos. Send them to Milton. Tell him this is what you just captured—he gave you guys the contact info, right? Check the drifter groups you’re in; you should be able to find it."

Paul wanted to struggle one last time, but looking at Song Shi's indifferent expression, he gritted his teeth and sent the files. The reply came quickly and was simple: just the word "Received."

"Send another message, urge him to pay up quickly," Song Shi said. "You're a drifter; you shouldn't be too generous when it comes to money."

Paul did as instructed. The reply read, "Don't rush. Once I verify the information, I'll pay you."

"Wait... he told me to hide and keep an eye on you, and that he's on his way."

Song Shi shook his head. "Refuse him. Tell him you don't want to get involved in this mess and that you're leaving after taking the photos."

After that, no more messages came.

"Do you have any support-type implants, like a reinforced spine?" Song Shi suddenly asked.

Paul answered instinctively, "Uh? No..."

Then, his head tilted, and he collapsed to the ground instantly.

"Hmm... for an ordinary person, that amount of force is just right."

Song Shi pulled his hand back from the man’s neck and nodded gently. After taking some time to drag him to a remote spot far from the buildings and covering him with large sheets of cracked plastic, Song Shi walked back into the ruins and stared into the distance.

Slowly, Song Shi began to smile.

The battlefield had been set.

Now.

It was time for his favorite part: the slaughter.