A sudden gust of wind swept past—these low-ranking members of the Sixth Street Gang, who made a living stealing cars, were neither qualified nor wealthy enough to afford reaction-speed-enhancing cyberware. They couldn't even come close to matching the speed of the wind.
Facing Lin Mo, who moved like a ghost after activating his Sandevistan, all they could do was gape in shock. Before they could even scream, a palm landed on the back of their heads, slamming them into either the nearby pillars or the concrete floor.
Since he was just visiting someone's home, Lin Mo hadn't brought any lethal weapons with him. He had no choice but to "suffer" through this encounter by letting his bare hands make intimate contact with a bunch of unwashed scalps.
After the Sixth Street gang members were "put to sleep," Lin Mo clapped his hands disdainfully, as if wiping off nonexistent dust. He took a few steps toward his car and opened the front trunk of the Stone Sword.
Unlike ordinary vehicles, the Stone Sword's engine and power components were housed in the rear. The front, upon opening the hood, revealed a small trunk compartment.
If the Stone Sword had one flaw, it was the limited capacity of its front trunk—there simply wasn't room to store much.
So Lin Mo usually kept just one set of combat gear here: an UltraTech pistol, a classic smart SMG, a few magazines, and various combat-use consumables and medical supplies.
Just as he pulled out the UltraTech pistol, ready to finish off the downed gangsters, he paused. Seeing their pitiful expressions as they lay face-first on the pavement, he hesitated.
During a previous infiltration op, Sasha had criticized him for killing without considering the consequences. Since then, Lin Mo had reflected deeply on his actions.
From a cost-benefit standpoint, killing these guys wouldn't help him in any way—and it might even cause trouble for David.
A good beating should be enough to teach them a lesson. Even if they wanted revenge afterward, the higher-ups in Sixth Street likely wouldn't waste time defending these disposable grunts.
But if he actually killed them, the gang's leadership might send someone to investigate, if only to save face and maintain their reputation.
After all, the Santo Domingo area—especially Rancho Coronado and the River Valley zone—was their turf.
"The streets aren't just about violence—they're about reputation and relationships."
Lin Mo sighed, glanced at the unconscious gangsters, and gave each of them a kick for good measure, clearing a path for the Stone Sword.
Naturally, he also confiscated their "tools of the trade."
For bottom-tier thugs like these, losing their weapons meant they were unlikely to receive replacements. Sixth Street didn't hand out guns for free.
Tossing the junk into the car, Lin Mo climbed into the driver's seat.
The engine roared to life. The sky-blue phantom raced into the distance.
When he got home, as expected, Xu Wanxue wasn't there.
Even the red-haired cyberware specialist who'd been passed out on the floor that morning was gone—probably only woke up after Lin Mo had left.
The two breakfasts placed on the second-floor dining table had been completely eaten. All that remained on the pristine white table were two data chips.
In earlier times, these might've been Post-its. But in the current cyber era, text chips were far more efficient.
Lin Mo picked them up, slotted them into the reader, and reviewed their contents.
The first chip was from his sister. She wrote that she probably wouldn't be home tonight, and reminded him to eat well, dress warm, sleep early, and go to school the next day like a good boy.
The second chip was from Liu Ruoying—the redhead cyberware expert.
But as Lin Mo read the chip, his expression grew strange. He was almost certain she had left it secretly.
Because the content was… basically a love letter written in a cyberpunk style.
The glowing blue particle-text overflowed with fiery affection and poetic sentiments. She'd even added a few emoji-style emoticons—each one shy and bashful in tone.
If the chip had supported images, Lin Mo was sure she would've included some selfies.
At the end of the message was her contact number and address.
This was the first time Lin Mo had ever gotten goosebumps from a text chip.
To be fair, Liu Ruoying was attractive. Whether her face was natural or the result of designer tweaks, she possessed a beauty that could stir any man.
But Auntie… do you even realize how many embarrassing moments you've had in front of me?
Lin Mo quickly yanked the chip out of the slot, then—after a moment's thought—deleted its contents to avoid a potential family scandal if his sister found it.
Night fell quickly. After washing up, Lin Mo cooked dinner for himself. After a quick bite, the quietest and most peaceful part of the night arrived.
Wearing pajamas, Lin Mo stepped onto the second-floor balcony with his braindance simulator in hand. He dragged a wicker chair over and slouched into it.
The sky sparkled with stars. The night breeze carried a serene calmness.
Night City's nightlife was vibrant—but sometimes, it could also feel painfully repetitive.
After spending a week trying out the BD experiences at Lizzie's Bar, Lin Mo found himself bored. He no longer felt like returning there for "relaxation."
Now that his underworld business had begun to stabilize—after formally stepping into the edge-runner life, recruiting the veteran Kagawa Hiro, and successfully completing his second rescue gig—the third job had even allowed him to wipe out an entire Scavenger gang for a symbolic one-euro fee...
That night, he had created a bit of an exploit. Fujimura Kawako had issued a request to Wakako Okada, and Lin Mo had claimed it afterward. It was a clever way to "farm reputation" in the system.
At this point, Lin Mo figured he could probably get into The Afterlife using his alias "Mr. Mo."
Of course, he knew full well—he wasn't a traditional edge-runner. With his background, he could easily be a financier operating from behind the scenes.
But if he wanted to find capable, trustworthy teammates, he had to play the part of an edge-runner and get close to that circle. Eventually, he'd form his own reliable crew.
Maine's team. Jackie Welles. Even the future legend V—they were all on his list.
And let's not forget: attribute points could only be earned through real combat. If he stayed behind the curtain forever, one day he might just randomly die to a "bullet to the back of the head" event.
Looking toward the dazzling lights of Night City, Lin Mo murmured into the strengthening night wind:
"Honestly, I could've left long ago. I've got enough money to hop on a rocket with my sister and live at the Crystal Palace, far from this dogshit, dream-devouring city..."
"But since I'm here already, and I've lived three lifetimes now… I can't just leave without witnessing something legendary."
Truthfully, Lin Mo wasn't sure what his final goal even was.
He was lucky—Xu Wanxue had given him the best possible life. He'd never known real suffering.
Tragedies and tragic people were foreign to him. Even V from the game—if not for that chip—might never have walked the legendary path.
Think about the famous legends of this city.
Johnny Silverhand—the poster child of rock rebellion—only bombed Arasaka Tower because his girlfriend, Alt, had been kidnapped.
Rogue. Morgan Blackhand. All of them only became legends because they were pulled into massive events. In the heat of it, they rose to the occasion and shined.
No matter how things ended, their stories were passed down. That's how legends are born.
So Lin Mo couldn't predict where his path would lead.
But whatever happened—he was already here. There was no way he'd let himself fall below Johnny "Shut-Up-Silverhand" in the legend rankings.
"I may not know my final destination… and I can't see my future clearly. But I do know there are things I want to do."
He chuckled softly at the city's twinkling skyline.
"I'll change the future. Rewrite a tragedy. Carve out a name worth remembering—not fade away like some nobody."
Having firmed up that thought, Lin Mo placed the Super Dream Simulator over his eyes.
He hadn't formed a full crew yet, but it was time to start planning.
Step one: make as much money as possible.
Sure, he had plenty saved up—enough to live comfortably for life.
But with a team to pay in the future, that money would run dry fast.
The bigger issue, though, was the BD simulator itself—the scenarios it displayed weren't under his control.
Even if he wanted to peek at tomorrow's stock trends, or the outcome of some big betting event, it depended entirely on the simulator's mood—and on luck.
If luck was good and the scenario included market details or game results, he could invest accordingly and rake in massive profits.
If not, then even if he wanted to cash in, he'd be flying blind.
Still, after years of use, Lin Mo had learned how to influence it.
As long as he scheduled enough time the next day to check on stock trends, it would increase the probability that a relevant BD simulation event would show up.
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🧠 My Cyberpunk 2077 Simulator
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