In games and movies, battles meant a joyful departure, fierce fighting, rich spoils of war, no lingering consequences or follow-up effects, victory after victory, moving from one glory to the next.
In reality, every battle was a cycle of life and death. No one could guarantee that they would be the winner. Every fight required the utmost caution in decision-making, and the effects of every war were measured in years, even decades.
Reckless, passionate young warriors changed, no matter why they had stepped onto the battlefield, once they had lived long enough and witnessed blood and glory, death and despair.
Some drowned themselves in drink at hotels, some squandered their days in casinos, some calmly read books while savoring the flashes of slaughter, while others counted endless sums of money, numb and madly venting their desires.
But for Lu PingAn, who had started with nothing, he seemed to be discovering that he was alive, still alive.
"Your life really is valuable."
"Heh. If they want it, they can come take it."
Lu PingAn walked calmly through the streets of the Steam Factory secret realm. Wary and greedy gazes surrounded him, yet he still wore an untroubled smile, his tone as placid as water.
This was no safe zone. On the contrary, it was forbidden ground for ordinary people, the area with the highest "vanishing into thin air rate."
Yet even though he was alone, no Bounty Hunter dared stop him.
The real local snakes here, the bosses of the black streets, rushed over one after another as soon as they received word.
The hidden bosses behind various Black Market organizations, such as Nine Leaves and Heart-Eating Ghost—existences Black Market folk regarded as Demon Kings—came running up to the young man, panting heavily, gathering around him to greet him first.
When