[HOST INTEGRITY: 20%]
[LOCATION: THE LAST STOP FACTORY - MAIN OFFICE]
[TIME: 10:00 PM]
The "Main Office" of the factory was a glass-walled box overlooking the production floor. It contained a rusted metal desk, two broken chairs, and forty years of dust.
Ren stood in the center of the room, adjusting his tie.
He wasn't wearing his school uniform. He wore a sharp, black suit he had bought from a thrift store for 15 dollars. It smelled faintly of mothballs, but the cut was severe enough to look professional.
Over the suit, he wore a long, charcoal trench coat.
"Ren," Jian said, sitting on the desk and swinging his legs nervously. "You look like a funeral director who doubles as a hitman."
"Image is equity," Ren muttered, checking his reflection in the darkened window. "If I look like a student, they will try to rob me. If I look like a monster, they will try to kill me. I need to look like... Management."
Ren reached into a shopping bag and pulled out the final piece of the ensemble.
It was a mask.
Not a superhero mask. Not a ski mask.
It was a Plague Doctor's mask—the long, beak-like design used by doctors in the 17th century to ward off miasma. But this one wasn't leather. It was made of matte black polymer, sleek and modern. He had found it in a Halloween clearance bin, but after applying a layer of [Spirit Reinforcement], it looked like it was forged from obsidian.
He slipped it on.
His vision narrowed. The world turned a tint of green through the lenses.
He tapped his throat.
[TECHNIQUE: VOCAL CHORD RECONFIGURATION]
He didn't use magic to change his voice. He simply used his knowledge of anatomy to tighten his vocal cords, adding a layer of gravel and distortion.
"Testing," Ren said.
The voice that came out wasn't human. It was deep, rasping, and sounded like heavy stones grinding together in a crypt.
Jian shivered. "Okay. That's terrifying. Please don't talk to me like that when we're eating lunch."
Ren turned to the window.
Below, on the factory floor, Lian was overseeing the production.
The vat was bubbling. The spectral grinder was chewing through another batch of vermin spirits.
But tonight, the atmosphere was different.
The fifty "Sales Representative" ghosts from the alley were gathered near the loading bay. They weren't fighting. They weren't screaming. They were waiting.
And outside the factory gates, engines were revving.
"They're here," Ren said, his beak mask reflecting the orange glow of the vat.
The Negotiation
The factory gates groaned open.
A convoy of three vehicles rolled into the courtyard.
They weren't physical cars. They were Spirit Vehicles—manifestations of wrecked cars that had crossed over. A crushed sedan. A burnt-out motorcycle. And in the lead, a massive, black hearse with flames painted on the hood.
The hearse stopped. The doors opened.
Twelve figures stepped out.
They wore leather vests, spiked chains, and red bandanas tied around their arms or necks. They held jagged spectral weapons—cleavers, bats, chains.
In the center stood their leader.
He was seven feet tall. His skin was the color of bruised eggplant. He had four arms, and his face was a mass of scars.
[ENTITY: BOSS "RED DOG" (LEVEL 8)]
[AFFILIATION: RED BANDANA TRIAD LEADER]
[CRIMES: EXTORTION, SOUL SMUGGLING, JAYWALKING]
"Level 8," Jian whispered, hiding behind Ren. "Ren... the Enforcer was Level 3. This guy is a Raid Boss."
"He's a potential partner," Ren corrected. "Stay here. Watch the perimeter."
Ren walked out of the office.
He descended the metal stairs to the factory floor. His steps were heavy, echoing with a metallic clang that cut through the noise of the engines.
He walked past Lian. He walked past the huddle of terrified starving ghosts.
He walked out into the courtyard and stood ten feet away from the Triad leader.
Boss Red Dog looked down at the small figure in the black coat and beak mask. He sniffed the air.
"You smell like meat," Red Dog growled. His voice was a sub-woofer that shook the windows. "A human? Playing dress-up?"
Ren didn't flinch. He adjusted his cufflinks.
"I am Mr. Crow," Ren said, his distorted voice scratching the air. "I believe you are here to apply for the open Logistics position."
The gang members laughed. It was a harsh, barking sound.
Red Dog didn't laugh. He stepped forward, the concrete cracking under his spectral weight.
"You killed my Enforcer," Red Dog said. "He was trash, but he was my trash. You are operating in my territory. You are selling product on my streets."
Red Dog raised all four of his arms. In each hand, a weapon materialized: A cleaver, a hook, a chain, and a pistol made of bone.
"I am not here for a job, Crow. I am here to liquidate your assets. Starting with your skin."
Ren sighed. The sound was amplified by the beak mask, coming out as a long, weary hiss.
"Violence is so expensive," Ren muttered.
He reached into his coat.
The gang tensed, weapons raised.
Ren pulled out... a clipboard.
"I have drafted a Franchise Agreement," Ren announced, holding up the paper.
"Clause 1: The Red Bandana Triad ceases all hostility against my operations."
"Clause 2: You become the exclusive distributors of Spirit Incense in Sector 9."
"Clause 3: I pay you 10% commission on all sales. You keep the territory. I keep the profit."
Red Dog stared at him. The sheer audacity paralyzed him for a second.
Then, rage took over.
"TEN PERCENT?!" Red Dog roared. "I take EVERYTHING!"
He lunged.
A Level 8 Spirit moved faster than the eye could follow. He closed the ten-foot gap in an instant, the bone-pistol aimed directly at Ren's head.
BANG.
A spectral bullet, wreathed in green fire, shot toward Ren's mask.
Ren didn't dodge.
He didn't use a shield spell.
He held up the Tiger Seal.
FLASH.
A barrier of crimson light erupted from the seal. The bullet hit the barrier and disintegrated into harmless smoke.
[HOST INTEGRITY: 20% -> 18%]
Two percent, Ren noted. Standard deduction for a shield block.
"My turn," Ren said.
He didn't attack Red Dog's body. He attacked his Status.
Ren pointed the Tiger Seal at the Boss.
He channeled the Tier 1 Memory.
"BY THE IRON LAW OF THE NINTH SECTOR!"
The voice wasn't Ren's. It was the Minister's. It boomed across the courtyard, shaking the spectral cars.
The gang members dropped their weapons, clutching their ears.
Red Dog froze mid-swing, his four arms locking up.
"I AUDIT YOUR ASSETS," Ren declared, stepping forward. "YOU ARE OPERATING AN UNLICENSED MILITIA. YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF ZONING ORDINANCE 773. YOU ARE BANKRUPT."
Ren slammed the seal into the empty air.
THUD.
Gravity in the courtyard increased tenfold.
Red Dog screamed as he was forced to his knees. The spectral asphalt shattered around him. It wasn't physical weight; it was the crushing pressure of Bureaucratic Authority.
He felt like he was being crushed by a mountain of paperwork.
"I can purge you," Ren whispered, leaning down so the beak of his mask was inches from Red Dog's face. "I can sign the execution order right now. Your soul will be shredded, and your energy will be used to fuel my furnace."
Ren pointed back at the factory, where the smoke stack was belching purple clouds.
"Or," Ren said, his voice returning to a smooth, corporate purr, "you can sign the contract."
Red Dog trembled. He looked at the red light of the Seal. He looked at the endless, cold darkness in the lenses of the Crow mask.
He realized this wasn't a wizard. This was something older.
"Ten percent?" Red Dog choked out, blood leaking from his nose.
"Ten percent," Ren confirmed. "And dental benefits."
Red Dog dropped his weapons. They vanished into mist.
"I... accept."
The Merger
Five minutes later.
The atmosphere in the courtyard had shifted from a war zone to a loading dock.
The gang members were forming a line, supervised by Lian. They were loading crates of Incense sticks into the back of the spectral hearse.
Ren stood by the gate, watching the operation.
Boss Red Dog stood next to him, looking sullen but obedient. A faint red chain—the mark of the contract—glowed around his thick neck.
"You have twelve drivers," Ren said, checking his clipboard. "I want Sector 9 covered by dawn. The stray ghosts in the sewers are your first customers. They pay in scrap. You bring the scrap here. We process it. Repeat."
Red Dog grunted. "What about the other gangs? The Blue Fangs in Sector 8? The Skull Boys?"
"If they interfere," Ren said, turning to look at him, "tell them they are violating Mr. Crow's copyright."
Ren's eyes glowed green behind the mask.
"Then eat them."
Red Dog grinned. It was a terrifying sight. "I like that clause."
The Profit Margin
Back in the office, Jian was hyperventilating into a paper bag.
"You hired them," Jian wheezed. "You hired the murderers."
"I outsourced the distribution," Ren corrected, taking off his mask. He wiped sweat from his forehead. The use of the Seal had drained him, but the adrenaline of the deal was a potent stimulant.
"We can't be street peddlers forever, Jian. Tonight, we went wholesale."
Ren looked down at the factory floor.
The starving ghosts were working the grinders.
The Triad gangsters were loading the trucks.
Lian was directing traffic.
It was a symphony of exploitation.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[QUEST COMPLETED: SECURE THE FIRST SALE]
[MARKET SHARE: 2% (SECTOR 9)]
[CURRENT REVENUE PROJECTED: 2,000 COINS/WEEK]
Ren looked at the number.
2,000 coins.
Enough to buy Spirit Skills. Enough to upgrade the factory. Enough to buy his life back, one pill at a time.
"Ren," Jian asked, watching the hearse drive away. "Are we the bad guys?"
Ren put the Crow mask back into the bag.
"We are the supply," Ren said. "The world provides the demand. We just close the loop."
He picked up his school bag.
"Come on. We have a Math test tomorrow. And I need to sleep for twelve hours."
[END OF CHAPTER 26]
[Author Note:]
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Congratulations! The "Crow Network" is online.
Ren Wu has successfully merged a street gang with a manufacturing plant.