The Old Hand? A Mere Guide Thought He Could Pull One Over on Me

Gan Ming did not wait for the bus.

He strode to the edge of the asphalt road and raised a hand to flag down a taxi.

"Awakened Association."

After giving the address, he shut the door and settled into the back seat.

The taxi driver was a thin middle-aged man in his forties, with a towel draped around his neck.

He glanced at Gan Ming through the rearview mirror and saw that he was covered in pig blood and bristles.

Gan Ming noticed the driver's gaze as well.

At the same time, he realized the Soul-Stealing Panel had not appeared.

The driver was an ordinary person.

Once the car started, it drove onto the main road connecting the entrance to the Fallen Zone and the city.

The scenery on both sides gradually changed from abandoned thickets to clusters of low buildings.

Only after a few more minutes did proper commercial streets and pedestrians begin to appear.

The driver did not rush to strike up a conversation. He only spoke after the car merged onto the main road.

"Are you going to the Association to sell materials, sir?"

Gan Ming looked up at him.

This route ended at the entrance to the Fallen Zone.

More than eighty percent of the passengers picked up by taxi drivers working this area every day were Awakened.

When someone covered in blood and grime got in and said they were heading to the Association, anyone could tell they had just come out of the Woodland.

But Gan Ming was not concerned with the question itself.

The man was not confirming anything. He was laying the groundwork.

For the next line: "There's a better place."

Rather than answer along the driver's lead, Gan Ming asked directly,

"You have a better place?"

The driver looked at him through the rearview mirror. This time, his gaze was clearly different, carrying a hint of approval that said, This one gets it.

"Yes, of course." The driver perked up at once.

One hand on the steering wheel, he gestured with the other.

"They buy materials for ten to twenty percent more than the Association. Equipment and potions are also quite a bit cheaper. Lots of veteran Awakened trade over there."

Gan Ming watched the streetlamps flash past outside the window and uttered two words.

"Black market?"

"No, no, no."

The driver waved his hands repeatedly, his speech noticeably faster.

"It's civilian-run and legitimate. It's called the Awakeners' Civilian Mutual Aid Trade Association. Everyone calls it the Civilian Commerce Association. It has a business license. It really isn't a black market."

Awakeners' Civilian Mutual Aid Trade Association.

The name certainly sounded positive enough.

Gan Ming pondered those words inwardly.

A trading venue operating outside the official Association system, buying at ten to twenty percent above the Association's prices while selling equipment and potions for less.

For it to survive in this city and be known even to taxi drivers, it indicated at least two things.

First, it truly existed, and it was not small.

Second, the official Association knew it existed but had not shut it down.

The reason it had not been shut down was not difficult to guess.

Either a powerful force stood behind it, or it had reached some sort of understanding with the Association.

You ate your share, and I ate mine. Neither interfered with the other.

Interesting.

But Gan Ming did not immediately decide to go.

A place recommended by a taxi driver he had known for three minutes, and he was supposed to follow him there without asking questions?

His two and a half years in the Lower District had taught him an iron rule.

The more eagerly a good thing came to you, the more cautiously you had to treat it.

"Do you have a business card?" Gan Ming asked.

The driver's expression changed instantly, gaining a trace of guilty panic.

"Don't misunderstand." Gan Ming smiled. "I'm not going to the Association this time to sell materials. I have other business to handle."

"But I'm interested in that Civilian Commerce Association you mentioned. Next time I have the chance, I'll have you take me there so I can look around. How about it?"

Hearing that, the driver gave an awkward chuckle and rubbed his hands against the steering wheel.

"I really didn't prepare any business cards. I'm just a taxi driver. I don't bother with that sort of thing."

His eyes shifted, and he added,

"How about this? Next time you take a taxi, just tell the driver you want to go to the Civilian Commerce Association. All the drivers around here know where it is."

Gan Ming nodded and said nothing more.

The taxi turned onto a broad avenue, and the Association's twelve-story gray building came into view ahead.

The driver stopped at the Association entrance.

Gan Ming took his identity card from his ring and handed it over.

"How much is the fare? Swipe it yourself."

The driver did not reach out with either hand.

"No, no, it's free."

He waved his hands again and again, the smile on his face somewhat forced.

"It's my honor to serve an Awakened."

Only when Gan Ming saw a sheen of sweat appear on the driver's forehead did he stop insisting.

"That generous? Then thanks."

He put away his identity card, pushed open the car door, and headed toward the Association entrance.

But after taking four or five steps, he heard tires scrape against the ground behind him.

The driver floored the gas and sped away.

Gan Ming sneered at the sight.

Sure enough, that driver had not been flattering him. He had been feeling guilty.

What exactly was a driver who worked the outer Woodland afraid of?

There had to be something wrong with that Civilian Commerce Association.

How orderly could a circle of Awakened, where everyone was responsible for their own life and death, possibly be?

Gan Ming entered the Association lobby.

At the entrance, he checked the floor directory on the wall.

First floor: Comprehensive Service Hall, Quest Posting Area, Newcomer Reception Area.

Second floor: Trading Area (skill and equipment trading, supplies purchasing, Contribution Points exchange).

Third floor: Material Recovery Area, Appraisal Area.

The fourth floor and above were unmarked.

Gan Ming headed straight to the third floor.

The Material Recovery Area was not large, only a fifth the size of the first-floor lobby.

A row of counters lined the wall, with an Association staff member seated behind each one.

Classification signs hung above the counters: "Monster Materials," "Ore Raw Materials," "Plants," and "Special Materials."

Gan Ming walked up to the "Monster Materials" counter.

Behind it sat a bespectacled middle-aged man, his head lowered as he flipped through a notebook.

"Material recovery," Gan Ming said.

The man with glasses did not look up. "Put them on the floor scale."

A metal floor scale about five meters square stood beside the counter.

With a swipe over his ring, Gan Ming took out the Iron Bristle Wild Boar corpses one after another.

Twelve Pig Monsters, along with the remains of five Withered Wood Treants, filled more than half the floor scale.

Only then did the man with glasses raise his head. He took out a handheld scanner and passed it over the materials several times.

"Iron Bristle Wild Boars, Level 3 monsters, twelve bodies, acceptable integrity. Withered Wood Treants, Level 5 monsters, two bodies, with battle damage."

After reciting a string of figures, he wrote a few notes in his notebook, looked up, and gave a number.

"Forty Contribution Points total."

Only forty?

The number was so low that even Gan Ming found it absurd.

He had fought desperately in the Woodland for four hours,

taken an arrow and nearly died,

and all he got in return was forty Contribution Points?

How much was that worth in cash?

He did not know the exchange rate yet, but his instincts told him it would not be much.

After all, the skill bookstore sold [Detect (General)] for ninety Contribution Points.

"Confirmed."

He swiped his card, and the points were credited to his account.

Gan Ming did not linger on the third floor. He turned and headed to the second floor.

The trading area on the second floor was much larger than the third.

Its layout was similar to the self-service kiosk area on the first floor, but the shelves and display cases were clearly a tier higher.

The equipment display area was on the left, consumables and miscellaneous goods were on the right, and several rows of self-service inquiry terminals stood in the middle.

Gan Ming walked to the equipment display area and stopped in front of a row of weapon racks.