Inside the megatower, at a food stall next to the gun shop—
Steam billowed up from the sizzling grill. The vendor, giving it his all, tossed ingredients in his iron wok, sending up an aromatic cloud of oil and vapor. The mixture spiraled upward like a misty tornado, funneled by a ceiling fan until it hit the upper wall and drifted into the open atrium of the building.
Even though it was approaching evening, this little commercial zone tucked inside the floor remained dimly lit.
With the tower built in a hollow square layout, looking out past the safety railing only gave you a view of another equally gloomy megastructure across the way.
Only when the sun reached its absolute peak during the day would a sliver of sunlight make it all the way down to this floor.
Still, the lack of natural light didn't stop the commerce here.
As long as you're alive, who gives a shit about "glorious rivers and mountains bathed in golden spring light"? Even a marketplace buried in shadows can thrive if people need to eat.
Since he rarely got the chance to be here, Lin Mo wasn't going to waste it. After a satisfying session at the shooting range, he joined Rebecca at this little stall for dinner.
The place was adjacent to Little China, and the stall owner—a neatly dressed Chinese man—clearly knew his way around a wok.
Just from the skillful flick of his wrists, you could tell the man had training. You don't pull off that kind of flair without putting in the hours.
And being able to snag a spot for a food stall in this limited space? That alone showed the man had some real business sense.
Lin Mo grabbed a pair of disposable chopsticks, picked up a greasy bite of fried noodles from his bowl, and took a big mouthful. The taste was savory and just a bit spicy, while the aroma alone was enough to make your mouth water.
This kind of food—street-style, oily, unpretentious—instantly transported him back to another life. The smell, the texture, the flavor... it all pulled at memories from his days on Blue Earth.
God knows how many years had passed since then.
"These noodles are surprisingly good. Here, Little Lin Mo—this is your reward for picking the right spot."
Rebecca, sporting her signature twin-tails, sat beside him at the counter. She handled her chopsticks like a pro, shoveling steaming noodles into her mouth until her cheeks puffed up adorably.
Despite stuffing her own face, she still reached over with her other hand and dropped a skewer of meatballs onto Lin Mo's plate.
In addition to fried noodles, the stall also sold these savory snacks—street-style skewers that would've been called chuàn chuàn xiāng back on Blue Earth.
Lin Mo didn't stand on ceremony. He grabbed the skewer, took a bite along with some noodles, and asked casually:
"So, what's your plan for the rest of the night? Head home?"
Rebecca paused her eating, rolled her neck to loosen up, then replied with clear enthusiasm:
"It's getting late, yeah. You did pretty good today, Little Lin Mo. Had a blast hanging out with you. When's the next time we hit the range? Gimme a date."
Another time?
Hanging out with you at the range is basically torture...
Just thinking about today's shooting session made Lin Mo wince inside.
No matter how wild his imagination could be, he'd never guessed Rebecca would have that much energy—standing in the firing zone for hours, rapid-firing at targets that popped up without warning like some cracked-out arcade game.
After spending the whole day there, he was practically seeing phantom targets everywhere. He was this close to pulling a gun on some poor rando who'd just walked past him in the hallway.
Even fat-ass Wilson, the range's owner, was full of praise for Rebecca. "Anything you want, young miss—ammo, guns, range time—it's all yours. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."
Lin Mo shook his head bitterly. "Let's play it by ear. I've got some other things to take care of tonight. But I've still got a bit of time. Need me to walk you home?"
Rebecca propped up her cheek with one hand and twirled her noodles with the other. After a moment, she said:
"Forget it. You've already stuck with me all day. Can't keep you chained to my hip, right? I had fun today, Little Lin Mo."
Wait, you're capable of caring about someone else? Lin Mo silently marveled.
"Well, before I head out, I wanted to ask you something... personal." His expression turned serious, brushing aside his inner monologue.
Rebecca tilted her head. "Personal? What, did my amazing shooting skills make you wanna call me sensei?"
"...Not exactly. I just wanted to ask—how did you end up joining Maine's crew?"
"That's it? Pfft, I thought you were about to drop some bombshell." Rebecca looked a little disappointed.
"Nothing special, really. My bro got recruited by Maine for his tech skills, and I tagged along. That guy's reckless as hell—if he ever ends up dead in a gutter, I'm not letting it slide."
She was obviously talking about Pilar. Hearing that, Lin Mo couldn't help but smile.
"If your brother heard that, he'd probably be touched."
"He better be. I'm only worried about him so no outsider kills him. His sorry life? That's mine to take. No one else has the right."
She laughed coldly.
She wasn't joking. Not even a little.
Watching her deadly serious expression, Lin Mo understood that much.
Yeah... I take back what I said earlier. These two siblings are seriously unhinged.
As Lin Mo tried to come up with a response, his eyes suddenly lit up with an orange glow. A call was coming in.
He shot Rebecca a look, then silently answered.
"Hey, Lin-kun?"
"Hiro? What's up?"
"About that training you asked me to do for David Martinez—it's done."
"What the fuck? Already?"
Today was literally David's first day of training.
And he was already finished? That was insane.
Before Lin Mo could wrap his head around it, Hiro sent him a photo.
Kitagawa Hiro: [image.jpg]
"…Who the hell is this swollen pig?"
He replied instinctively. Then, a second later, the brutal truth hit him.
"Don't tell me... this is David?"
"Yes. This is Mr. David Martinez, as per your instructions. I didn't dare slack off. First, I took him to the boxing gym for some friendly sparring with the locals. During his breaks, I inserted the chip you gave him into his neural slot and sent him into the dreamspace for tactical training."
Hiro explained it all as succinctly as possible.
"Then, a few hours ago, I had him run shooting drills at the range. Over a thousand rounds fired. His wrist dislocated during the session, but thanks to the meds you provided, the injury healed well—no permanent damage."
Lin Mo swallowed hard. He couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the kid.
"You're not worried you might've overdone it?"
"That's the thing, Lin-kun—your eye for talent is something I can't match. After all that, the kid held up. And because of that, I've already found his strengths. His talent."
"David has an incredible pain tolerance. Or more accurately, he has a kind of dullness to external stimuli—he can endure serious wounds without flinching, and his recovery rate is exceptional. Most of his injuries are already healing nicely thanks to the meds."
"But that's not all. His reflexes are fast. After just one day of training, he's performing at near-professional levels. From every angle, this kid's a diamond in the rough. All he needs is to be forged in fire—and he'll become the sharpest blade in your arsenal."
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