Screening

At the basement entrance, two gang members in rudimentary mecha had opened their faceplates and were eating lunch.

Their mecha were called rudimentary, but they actually possessed ninth-rank combat power. In a place like the Forward Alliance, though, they could only be considered weapons for gang street fights, worlds apart from Mo Long's police equipment.

The two tattoo-faced gangsters gnawed on their cracker-like lunches as one of them said, "The boss really is wise and mighty. Who would've thought he'd planned our way out decades ago?"

The other chimed in, "Why else would he be the boss? Those public security bastards used to push us around, but things are different now. The Food King is here. We're in for a good life now."

"Do you think the Food King can really fulfill what he promised us? What we're doing now is risking our lives. We never went this big before." The man on the left voiced his concern.

"We've already done it, so what's the point of thinking about that? Didn't you enjoy yourself last night? That young lady from the academy, that noble young master who used to slap your face with money, and his fiancée, plus that bartender who was always selling booze—could you normally ever get your hands on them? We've already taken the benefits. Now our boss calls the shots in this district, so enjoy it first." The other man was far more carefree as he spoke frankly.

The worried man froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You're right. We've already done it. They say the boss's boss, and even bigger shots above him, have been planning this for ages. We just need to follow along. In the future Forward Alliance, we'll be people above people. Isn't that better than curling up in a