Miyamoto Sanzo, a master hunter of the assassination school and one of the oldest and most powerful mechanical hunters in Gasoline Town, was rumored to have once been the ace killer of a mysterious assassination organization. He had come to this irradiated zone only after an assassination mission failed and he fled the organization's pursuit.
Compared to the assassination of prey, what his fellow hunters were more worried about was him taking up his old profession again.
As for Gao Gong, he was likewise a veteran mechanical hunter of Gasoline Town. He was also a lone-wolf-type hunter, possessing abundant experience and formidable skills.
Especially after his hunting performance some time ago, which had seemed like a complete transformation and rebirth, the rumors that he had suffered severe injuries in the Grand Canyon had utterly collapsed under the weight of those results.
Among the top ten on the rankings, these two were also the only ones who had made the list by assassinating C-rank beast leaders.
As for the number of beasts they had killed—
Miyamoto Sanzo, 13 C-rank beasts. Gao Gong, 9 C-rank beasts.
Monsters!
"Tsk, I really want to see these two in action. Stop hiding everything!"
"Yeah, I strongly demand that the Security Corps release their assassination techniques. If we happen to run into them, we can at least be prepared."
"What exactly did these two use to kill those metal-covered monsters?"
On the outskirts of Gasoline Town, Old Sun and Aunt Xiang were staring at the rankings. More precisely, Old Sun was watching the rankings, while Aunt Xiang was watching Old Sun.
"How is he? Has he passed?"
"Tsk, tsk. Young people these days are incredible. Look at that mechanic—he actually airdropped weapons, set up a firepower defense line, and used algorithms to process firepower intensity. What exquisite methods. And that bearded fellow—the firepower, the firepower! That's a proper mechanical-army style! Oh, and that three-armed woman. They're actually a close-combat hunter squad. Rare, incredibly rare. High-tech close-combat weapons, huh? How did we not think of that back then..."
Aunt Xiang snorted. "Don't change the subject. I'm asking whether that kid has met your requirements."
Old Sun's eyes flickered. "How should I put it? It's hard to say. No, that's wrong—he's still far from it. What kind of monsters did he assassinate? Beasts that had just formed a radiation zone and already expended most of their strength. Are those really C-rank? Their combat power is at most D+. How can that count as completing the mission? It doesn't count, it doesn't count. He's still far from it. I need to observe him a little longer."
Aunt Xiang sighed, then suddenly cursed, "You always say I'm indecisive, but you're the truly indecisive one! You see a young man chop off a beast's head and get all fired up, then a few days later you think it over and start backing down again. You've been backing down for ten years. How much longer do you plan to back down? Until you're old, until you're dead!?"
Old Sun's shoulders shuddered. He left as if fleeing, muttering as he went, "I still need to think about it. Think about it some more."
After the veteran hunting squads entered the fray, the rankings changed almost every day.
Once these old hands made their moves, the number of radiation beasts they killed was nearly twice that of the previous few days, and that multiplier was still doubling. The Gray-Eyed Cultists' mind-control style, Tindergrass's close-combat output style, Wilson's small mechanical army, the terrifying weapons of the Symbiosis Squad, and even the super-mechanized mode of the super rookie Black God all gave the spectators an eyeful. So mechanical hunters could actually be this powerful!
The Marauder Squad, which had surged ahead most fiercely at the beginning, was steadily dropping in rank instead—from first to second, then fourth and fifth. Only with great difficulty did it stabilize around fifth or sixth place.
Under these public battle reports, the controversy surrounding Miyamoto Sanzo and Gao Gong grew greater and greater.
There was only one reason. On this electronic ranking board, those who made the list had the right to choose whether to share their battle footage.
Everyone else had agreed, because in the desert, fame was second only to force.
Only these two refused, like strippers unwilling to take off their clothes, leaving everyone itching with curiosity.
On top of that, the two seemed to be competing against each other. You kill one radiation beast, I kill an even stronger one. Ever since entering the rankings, nearly all of the prey they had assassinated had been at least C-rank.
Although radiation beasts' strength declined to a certain degree after they left their original radiation zones—C+ became C, C became C-, and C- became D+—only mechanical hunters who had truly fought on the battlefield understood how troublesome these high-rank beasts were.
And ever since entering the rankings, the two had constantly been refreshing their own records.
Miyamoto Sanzo, 15 C-rank beasts. Gao Gong, 11 C-rank beasts.
Miyamoto Sanzo, 12 C-rank beasts. Gao Gong, 7 C-rank beasts.
Miyamoto Sanzo, 8 C-rank beasts. Gao Gong, 7 C-rank beasts.
Miyamoto Sanzo, 8 C-rank beasts. Gao Gong, 8 C-rank beasts.
They just wouldn't let anyone watch!
They just wouldn't let anyone watch!
While these two assassination masters left everyone itching with curiosity, they also raised a question.
Which of the two was actually stronger?
Admittedly, Miyamoto Sanzo's hunting efficiency was still above Gao Gong's for now. But as the radiation beasts gradually recovered their strength, his efficiency was steadily declining. Gao Gong, on the other hand, displayed an uncanny steadiness—steady as an old dog.
"That lone wolf Gao Gong is definitely stronger! The old man's stamina is lacking. It's only a matter of time before he gets overtaken!"
Inside a black-market betting shop, a gambler who had gotten carried away and wagered his entire fortune shouted with a red face and bulging neck.
"Look at the numbers. It's obvious that Master Miyamoto is a cut above," a bettor who had won money said smugly.
"Bullshit, bullshit! He'll definitely overtake him. I say it'll happen within the next few days."
"That isn't necessarily true," said a mechanical hunter who had just returned from the battlefield and was relaxing with a few bets at the shop, shaking his head.
"Don't look at me like that." The hunter hurriedly waved his hands with a smile as the red-eyed loser glared at him. "Don't treat me like some ill-omened crow. I don't think the two are that far apart in individual strength. It's just that compared to teams, Gao Gong is inferior to Miyamoto."
"Teams? Aren't assassins all lone wolves?" one person asked blankly.
"No. You forgot? Sometimes, when Miyamoto accepts missions in Gasoline Town, three strange people dressed entirely in black follow behind him."
"I think those are Miyamoto's disciples. I heard him introduce them once," an acquaintance cut in.
"How much strength could disciples have?"
"Exactly. Wouldn't capable disciples have already left their masters? I heard that in the killer business, the most outstanding disciples all use their master's head as their graduation gift."
"No, it's not like that." The mechanical hunter smiled. "Those three disciples are special. They're special because they aren't human, nor are they androids. They're combat AIs implanted into mechanical bodies."
"AI?"
"He took AIs as disciples? There's really something that strange?"
"I only heard about it from someone else. Miyamoto Sanzo implanted three AI templates into mechanical bodies and had them record his combat patterns every day, along with his stealth techniques, killer psychology, and combat experience—"
"An AI with loyalty written into its underlying logic won't betray him. Naturally, Miyamoto Sanzo wouldn't hold anything back. Three killer AIs possessing all the experience of an old assassin. Tsk, tsk. It's terrifying just to think about."
The mechanical hunter stood and stuffed the scattered chips into his pocket, smiling. "Keep playing, everyone. I've rested enough too. Time to get back out there and make some money."
After he left, several gamblers looked at one another, and their expressions began to change. After a brief stalemate, they all rushed to the android dealer and shouted:
"I want to adjust the odds!"
After leaving, the mechanical hunter did not go to the battlefield as he had claimed. Instead, he circled around outside Gasoline Town several times. Only after making sure nobody was following him did he slip into a small house.
The small house was filled with surveillance screens. In front of them, Little Finger's eyes burned with excitement as he continually adjusted the overall market, like an old gambling addict.
"Brother Finger, the news has all been spread."
Without looking back, Little Finger tossed over a wallet.
"Go wander around outside for the next few days. Don't come back. Once this is exposed, the act won't be able to continue."
"What's there to expose? I didn't lie." The mechanical hunter was unconcerned. "That old man Miyamoto really does have three AI disciples. Weren't they implanted by you?"
Little Finger waved his hand and ignored him.
"By the way, Brother Finger, even though we're manipulating the market from the shadows, how can you be sure that Gao Gong will definitely lose to Miyamoto? Youth has the advantage over age."
"Several times over the past few days, we nearly got overturned. Gao Gong nearly overtook him."
"But now you're adjusting the odds again and betting on Miyamoto losing. Why is that?"
The mechanical hunter chattered on without pause.
"You really want to know?" Little Finger turned around and asked coldly.
"No, I don't. Not at all—"
The mechanical hunter chuckled awkwardly and turned to run.
Little Finger snorted and snapped his fingers. The gun ports that had extended from the wall quietly retracted.
The black-market king thought for a moment, then made another call. His expression changed, and he began to chuckle obsequiously.
"Brother Gao, how are things on your end? That's right, hold back a little, hold back a little. It's not time to turn the tables yet."
"Don't worry. How could I forget your share of the money... Oh, right. Let's take a break for the next couple of days and let that old man Miyamoto gain the upper hand. Once I've prepared enough mechanical coins to crash the market, we'll reap those gambling dogs in one go."
"As for the number you hunted today, how about setting it at three... Yes, yes, don't worry. I'll toss your share into the bar later."
In a ruin somewhere in the factory, Gao Gong shut off his communicator and looked up. "Once we finish this one, we'll head back!"
"We're going back? Not farming anymore? All right!"
Ironhide's smug voice came from inside the armored vehicle. The next moment, the hatches on both sides of the armored vehicle opened, and two automated machine guns extended from them. Their powerful firepower instantly tore apart the small bio-beasts that had surrounded them.
Gao Gong hoisted Iron Rain onto his shoulder again, aimed the DIY rocket launcher ahead, and gently pulled the trigger.
The next moment, thirteen heavy spears tore through the air. Their tails spun like high-speed propellers, accelerating them further in midair and even producing sonic booms. Finally, they nailed themselves one by one into the mechanical leopards pouncing toward them like falling rain. The "propellers" fully bloomed upon landing, transforming into scattered hooks that embedded themselves in the ground and walls, inflicting secondary tearing damage.
"Fatty Xiang, go draw their aggro!"
At Gao Gong's command, Fatty Xiang charged forward. He wore a strange "exoskeleton." This was not exoskeleton armor, but a set of classical armor made entirely from the bones of mechanical beasts. The armor seemed a size too large for Fatty Xiang. By that calculation, its original owner had to have been at least three meters tall.
However, when Fatty Xiang sucked in a deep breath, a hint of savagery flashed through his dull, mung-bean-sized eyes. His skin suddenly turned bright red, while jets of white vapor burst from his mouth and nose.
"Awoo, awoo, awoo, awoo—"
The next moment, intense radiation fluctuations erupted. Fatty Xiang's height rose steadily, while strange veins bulged from beneath his skin, layering over his body and completely propping up the classical exoskeleton.
In the end, the fat fool transformed into a monster two stories tall, even larger in build than a large bio-beast.
Mutation: A small number of mutated species can expand their mutated cells at high density for a short period of time, producing a mutative reaction. Strength +50%, Agility -15%. Additional status: Muscle Wall Muscle Wall: High-density muscles can block ordinary bullets and the bites of most beasts.
Fatty Xiang wielded a gigantic spiked club and, leaving a footprint with every step, directly blocked the remaining mechanical leopards. He swept the club in his hand like a massive wall bristling with spikes.
With one simple sweep, three or four mechanical leopards were sent flying.
No mechanical beast could break through his iron wall.
Gao Gong, meanwhile, fired leisurely, reloaded, and fired again.
This "metal nest" was clearly stronger than the previous one. It had at least three batches of guard beasts, along with a large number of small mechanical bio-beasts that had migrated here.
However, it was completely useless.
It wasn't just them that had grown stronger.
As the final bullet ignited the tree trunk,
[You have killed a C-rank Metal Nest. Experience +780]
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