By the time Li Pan came out of the bank, it was already afternoon. Since he had already skipped work, loafing around on paid leave, he decided to continue preparing for the Holy Grail mission and, along the way, check on the getaway shuttle.
His original budget was three million, and the remaining funds in Panlong Construction's account were just enough to cover it.
But unexpectedly, after the company's dreadnought had recently jumped in his face, plus the attempted assassination of a Ye Clan prince, the 0791 stock market had crashed, and both Skyfolk and Spacemen had fled en masse. The chaos pushed shuttle prices soaring.
The model he had originally set his eyes on—the Solarbus Shuttle—had already risen to three and a half million, and the price was still climbing. Stock was running out fast.
No surprise, really. The value for money was undeniable. Solarbus was a major civilian manufacturer specializing in Solar System transit vessels, mainly competing for contracts in public transport systems—freight and passenger ships alike. Most of the automated orbital vessels, acceleration-belt highways, and ring-transit ships in the system came off their production lines.
That's why SS shuttles benefited from mass-production, keeping costs down, and they didn't require extra subscription software to integrate into Solarbus's transport networks. This ship could carry eight passengers, cruise at WARP-5, and be flown manually or follow automatic routes. With its extended-range mode, it could even jump directly from Earth orbit to Ganymede.
Think about it: a cruiser cost at least a hundred million, and even a frigate wouldn't come for less than ten million. But for only three million, a shuttle could achieve interstellar travel. Who'd still want a bicycle?
And, staying true to Solarbus's multipurpose transport philosophy, this shuttle maximized its modular cargo capacity—no problem loading dozens of cubic meters of dirty cash. It was the perfect choice for hauling the family and fleeing together.
"Shit, just refreshed the page—it's already up to three-six…"
Thinking back on what he'd done last night, Li Pan gritted his teeth and bought one.
"Thank you for purchasing the Solarbus Shuttle. Your vessel will be delivered to your designated hangar within one business day…"
"Honored Premium Gold Client, Mr. Li Pan, thank you for using Camarilla Credit's micro-loan service. Your consumption amount: 622,XXX.XX. Reward points earned: 622. Available credit: 29,377XXX.XX.
If repaid before the billing date, you will enjoy a preferential customer rate. Points may also be redeemed for small gifts…"
And just like that, Panlong Construction's account balance was negative. In just a few days, its cash reserves had plummeted from over eighty-five million to zero.
Ah, bankrupt again. His wallet was empty, the sunlight painfully bright…
No, no, no—he had to recoup some blood.
Li Pan teleported over to the factory to check on the goods Orange's crew had salvaged, hoping to liquidate Fabius family assets quickly. Otherwise, he wouldn't even have enough to fund the mission.
Orange and Saiko weren't around, and one of the rented trucks was missing—likely out on another salvage run. In the factory sat the second container they'd brought back, filled with the Fabius clan's luxury furniture: hardwood, precious metals, ostentatious antiques meant purely to show off.
Fortunately, such goods always had buyers. Li Pan contacted Keiko Saitō, asked her to take a look, and sure enough, Saitō Trading had clients interested. Some items were clearly local antiques—likely extorted from Takamagahara conglomerates by the Fabius family.
After some discussion, Li Pan and Keiko agreed to consign the container to her for resale, with her taking a commission. She also shared some updates on the situation in Takamagahara.
In short, the monster corporation's recent wrath had frightened the Hashiba family. For now, they didn't dare extend their tentacles into Night City to take over Tokugawa remnants. They merely maintained stock control of Tokugawa subsidiaries under Takamagahara's name.
Since Tokugawa's direct line—and its so-called Four Heavenly Kings' bodyguards—had been obliterated by the dreadnought bombardment, only two zaibatsu remained: the Ōkubo family, former CFO, and the Honda family, former COO. They now co-managed Takamagahara's assets, playing the usual balancing act between factions.
But they were still civil officials, incapable of commanding the martial clans or ninjas. They could never face off against the Hashiba like Tokugawa had, nor threaten the vampires' rule. Takamagahara's influence in Night City had truly waned.
As for mid-sized firms like Saitō Trading and Akiyama Dojo, they survived independently, bearing profits and losses alone—seeking backers, cultivating connections, chasing sponsorships, begging loans. If nothing worked, they simply went bankrupt. A free market: survival of the fittest.
Saitō Trading was struggling. With wars, purges, and unpaid contracts, they'd been cut to the bone. Luckily, thanks to Li Pan's standing, both Ōkubo and Hashiba had invested slightly, and massive layoffs had allowed the firm to limp along.
Thus, Keiko was deeply moved by Li Pan's support—overjoyed at receiving such a shipment of furniture. She thanked him profusely, warmly promising that whenever he visited for relaxation, the boss herself would provide full "one-dragon service."
Li Pan coughed and declined. "Too kind—but if I really came for a one-dragon, I doubt your frame could handle it…"
He called a logistics company to haul the container off, then took a truck over to K's garage to move Li Blood-Red's coffin.
By now, Li Blood-Red had become truly frightening.
After all, forming a Core wasn't something you could just pop out like a hen laying an egg. For cultivators, Foundation Building and Core Formation were critical groundwork stages. No skyscraper rose from flat ground. Especially with the Sacred Sect's Blood Register methods—unique as they were.
Although progress was normally fast, the actual breakthrough from "I'll kill you all once I master this divine art!" to "I've finally mastered it!" could be slow. Sometimes, cultivators shut themselves away for years—emerging only to find their enemies long dead.
Still, by Li Pan's estimate, Li Blood-Red's pace was impressive. By tonight, the breakthrough seemed inevitable.
At the garage, he found the coffin at the critical threshold. Red light and searing waves spewed from its seams like nuclear radiation, filling the space with blood-hued brilliance.
One glance seared Li Pan's eyes—tears streamed, capillaries burst, and his body felt like it was melting under the blood-light. Only by cloaking himself in Nine Yin Qi could he even approach. Just hauling the coffin into the container drained more of his essence than a night of dual cultivation with kunoichi.
This was practically an Apostle on the verge of going berserk. Maybe he could even trade it in to the Company for a key.
With nowhere else to hide it, he loaded Li Blood-Red's coffin into the container and hauled it back to the factory—dumping it with the tons of bombs in the basement.
Just as he finished these errands, Night City erupted.
Yes—riots.
The corporations had finished biting each other's throats. Now it was the cockroaches' turn.
Li Pan didn't even know what sparked it this time. In Night City, nightly shootings, brawls, and bloodshed were normal. Unless "citizens" died, it wasn't even newsworthy. Only when Akaten gumi launched heavy-weapon assaults did the ticker mention it.
Normally, local gangs suppressed such incidents. If they couldn't, they called the cops. If NCPA couldn't, the companies' mercs, security firms, or contractors handled it. Failing that, it went to the Security Bureau.
And once the Bureau approved—release the hounds.
Cerberus.
If even Cerberus failed? That had never happened. Even a riot of a hundred thousand wasn't much; a few thermobarics and half the city would be scoured clean—no ID chips left behind.
But Cerberus was the corporations' watchdog, pest-control specialists. They never intervened in their masters' struggles. A dog that bites its master doesn't live long.
So with such a perfected suppression system, the pests could never truly overturn the table. Yet violence alone never solved root problems; tensions just built until they exploded again.
Li Pan knew the pattern: big riots every so often—usually in summer. Locals had a name for it:
The Air-Conditioner Riot.
It was simple. In summer, slums had no AC. Meanwhile, private utilities hiked electricity for the rich and factories—sometimes by over a hundred times per kilowatt. Poor districts faced rolling blackouts and internet outages. Stifling heat, no entertainment, shanties like ovens—it drove people outside.
With aid slashed, stolen food aid spoiled, and black-market theft rampant, anger only grew. Summer heat alone wasn't lethal—no sandstorms, acid rain, or hail—so people naturally gathered outdoors at night.
"Why not just give them AC?" someone might say. Sure: feed the hungry, heat the cold, cool the hot, medicate the anxious. Simple.
Problem: who pays?
The Security Committee did earmark summer AC subsidies, but they were routed through local NCPA branches—and disappeared into directors' pockets. Those luxury cruises, sports cars, and handbags had to come from somewhere.
So every year, the AC Riots returned.
Usually, a quick crackdown and a few hundred dead—lesson taught. But tonight, something broke.
First, gangs that normally buffered chaos had collapsed. With East Castle Society wiped out, Night City's underworld was in its own Warring States. Big syndicates fought; small ones joined the riots.
Second, NCPA auxiliaries balked. Five thousand a month? Not worth dying for—especially when Uzumaki Clan was rolling tanks through barricades.
Third, mercenaries were unavailable. Prices skyrocketed, and anyone competent was already under Ye Clan contracts or guarding zaibatsu estates. No proper bounty hunters patrolled the streets.
Worst of all, Cerberus did not deploy.
The riots, like a released spring, spread from the suburbs toward the city center—toward the air-conditioners.
Watching the wall-to-wall news coverage, Li Pan frowned.
Was Akaten moving because Amakusa Shirō had wired the cash?
Or was it simply too hot?
Just as he considered calling Uncle Chen, Orange checked in:
"Li, we're stuck outside the city. Explosion at the highway junction—we can't get in."
The video feed showed Orange and Saiko stuck in a long line of trucks on the ring highway.
"Oh? Need backup? My new shuttle just docked. I can come get you."
"No big deal—probably just a few hours… Wait, you bought what?"
Li Pan transferred Orange the driving rights and simulator from the dealership.
"If Akaten launches a major op, it could be dangerous. Use the shuttle to escape if you have to. Don't worry about the cargo. Once I score big, we'll never lack money again."
He then pinged Eighteen:
"Stop day-trading. What's the situation downtown—any chance for Plan A?"
Eighteen quickly relayed news and darknet footage:
"They're really moving? So far, rioters are only looting malls and boutiques… oh! Ye Clan forces are mobilizing!"
Spy-satellite footage streamed in. The Night Riders deployed, heavy guards of Night Tower remaining behind while elite units from Cornelius Castle and elsewhere mobilized.
But Li Pan saw immediately—their target wasn't rioters. Aside from blocking key checkpoints, the troops dispersed and vanished into New Tokyo's sewers.
It was K. This was cover—using chaos to hunt the wolves.
Tonight might be the chance—to snatch the Cup and bolt…
No, not yet. Li Blood-Red hadn't completed his breakthrough. Better to wait and see.
He grabbed a beer, switched on the AC, sprawled on the office couch, and kept watching the live feeds.
By now, the first NCPA riot-control units had been crushed. Armed only with rubber bullets, tear gas, and water cannons, their convoys were ambushed at intersections—slaughtered by Uzumaki ambushes under crossfire. Their screams for backup were drowned out by the mob's howls.
The local directors and chiefs had already retreated to NCPA HQ—safely ensconced behind five-million-credit police mechs, directing auxiliaries like pawns.
Yes, NCPA owned combat robots. But too expensive—better to pocket the budget and hire auxiliaries. The mechs were HQ decorations; auxiliaries took the real risks.
But auxiliaries weren't fools. Rubber guns, self-funded armor, every bullet accounted for? They were used to beating up vendors and vagrants, not facing mobs. So when the rioters came, they simply shut off their chips, stripped their uniforms, and joined the mob.
Thus NCPA lines collapsed. Substations, hubs, and precincts were overrun. Rioters stormed barriers, flipped cruisers, and poured into the inner city.
In desperation, NCPA raised the bounty from five credits per rioter to fifteen—tripling it. Loudspeakers urged citizens to defend sacred private property, with kill exemptions in place.
But mercs were all hired out. Riots soon engulfed wealthy neighborhoods. Uzumaki shock troops led mobs into villa parks, golf courses, and ski resorts, looting even the doghouses.
Residential security firms were doomed—paid well, but with insured clients, they couldn't flee. They fought desperately. Though trained, they were small squads with little heavy gear—at best a couple gardening mechs for trimming hedges.
But the mobs were legion—regiments, brigades—and with Akaten specialists like the Red Tengu directing assaults and handing out weapons, no gated community could hold. After hours of siege, complaints from owners—about noise, scratched cars, or pets to be rescued—further undermined defenses. One by one, the luxury districts fell.
Even NCHK's live broadcast was cut off—their team blown up by an RPG while trying to interview Uzumaki. Feed gone.
At least the corporate spy satellites remained.
And darknet streamers gleefully fenced stolen goods from luxury boutiques.
Which meant—Security Bureau and the Net Gate hadn't cut QVN.
They were simply watching.
So this was only the appetizer. The real course was yet to come.
Night City was burning—again, and again, and again…
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
🔗 patreon.com/DrManhattanEN