Killing Is Easy, Fencing Loot Is Hard

The line went quiet for a long while.

Fang Hongda finally let out a sigh.

"I'll think of a way to get the entry and exit registration records. But there's one condition... don't go arresting people all over the city with that list. Tell me first when you find a lead. I'll handle it."

"Fine."

"And one more thing."

Fang Hongda's voice grew heavier.

"Don't make too much of a scene. If an Awakened kills another Awakened in the Ruins Zone, they're exempt from legal responsibility. Even if you really find someone, you can't go through official channels. If you make a mess by taking action in private, I won't protect you."

"Understood."

"I'll give you an answer before tomorrow afternoon."

"Thanks, Old Fang."

"I'm hanging up."

Beep, beep, beep.

The call ended.

Lu Guangshan set his phone on the table.

He remained seated, staring at a photo frame on the table for a long time.

Inside was a group photo.

A girl of sixteen or seventeen stood beside him, her ponytail swinging as she smiled brightly.

Lu Guangshan turned the frame over and placed it face down on the table.

He rose and walked to the window, looking out at the Upper District's nightscape.

"Entry and exit registration records," he murmured.

Once he got the list,

he would first investigate the Awakened with guild or organizational affiliations.

Those people would not casually attack members of other guilds, but tempers could still flare when both sides fought over monsters.

So he had to investigate slowly.

The second step was to filter out the independent Awakened.

Independents.

They had no guild protection and no organizational backing. Kill them, and no one would stand up for them.

People like that were the most likely to kill for wealth in the Fallen Zone.

They were also the easiest to find.

Because they had no way out.

Lu Guangshan turned around and glanced at the longbow hanging from a rack in the corner.

A red string he had tied there in his youth was still wrapped around the bowstring.

"Xiao Tong."

He spoke softly.

"Dad will give you an answer."

5:28 a.m.

Gan Ming opened his eyes.

His biological clock had woken him automatically.

The habit of getting up at five every day beneath the bridge to fight over the communal water pipe had been carved into his bones.

He lay still in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling for a while.

This was the most peaceful sleep he had had in years.

He rolled over and looked at the electronic clock on the bedside table.

5:31.

Still early.

Tunnel Zone No. 7 did not open until eight, and the Association would probably open around seven-thirty.

No rush.

Gan Ming buried his head in the pillow again and closed his eyes.

But he could not fall asleep.

His mind automatically began wandering.

The first thing he needed to do today was go to the Association and trade for a decent set of armor.

While sorting through the four men's equipment last night, he had found something.

Inside the dagger-wielder's breastplate was a row of hidden compartments, each large enough to hold dozens of Storage Rings.

The design was rather clever.

The compartments were pressed against the inner wall of the armor plates. They could not be seen from outside or felt by touch.

Gan Ming had suddenly gotten an idea.

He had thought about stuffing his extra rings into those hidden compartments,

then putting the breastplate into a Storage Ring.

The result...

The instant the breastplate turned into specks of light and flew into the ring,

the ten Storage Rings in the hidden compartments all came clattering out.

Storage Rings could not be placed inside Storage Rings.

Not even with a breastplate between them.

Rules were rules. There were no loopholes to exploit.

So today, he had to go to the Association and buy a breastplate with hidden compartments.

As for the four men's equipment...

Gan Ming hesitated.

The equipment was good, but he could not wear any of it outside.

He remembered the iron-gray gear emblem on their left arms perfectly.

One gear, three curved lines.

Yesterday evening, six motorcycles had roared past him, and every rider wore the same emblem.

Those four men were guild members.

Once guild members went missing, the guild would definitely investigate.

And equipment all bore their makers' marks.

Every piece of equipment made by production-type Awakened had a serial number and a record of its origin.

Walking around in a dead man's armor was no different from holding the murder weapon over his own head.

He could only wait for chances to sell it off slowly.

One piece every few days, through different channels, handled in batches.

"Turning stolen goods into cash really is a technical job." Gan Ming rolled over and laughed at himself.

Killing was easy, fencing loot was hard.

Apparently, that had always been true.

So he needed to keep a low profile these next few days.

6:40.

Daylight seeped through the gap in the curtains.

Gan Ming threw back the covers, got out of bed, and went into the bathroom to wash his face.

The person in the mirror looked completely different from last night.

Once the dirt on his face had been washed away, his features were actually not bad.

He was not handsome, but at least he no longer looked like some wild, unkempt drifter.

He opened the set of clothes Zhou Sheng had bought and put them on piece by piece.

They fit.

Old Zhou had a good eye.

Gan Ming slipped his original fifty-cubic-meter Storage Ring onto the ring finger of his right hand.

He split the other ten into two groups and stuffed them into his left and right trouser pockets.

So the first thing he needed to do today was buy a breastplate with hidden compartments at the Association.

After confirming that he had not missed anything, Gan Ming picked up his key card and headed downstairs.

The receptionist was still the short-haired girl from last night. He did not know whether she was working the night shift or the morning shift.

"I'm checking out."

"Certainly, sir. The room fee is five hundred, plus three dinner charges, for a total of seven hundred and twenty."

Huh?

Seven hundred and twenty?

Gan Ming's mouth twitched.

The him from yesterday would probably have agonized over that number for half the day.

But now, with one hundred and seventy or one hundred and eighty thousand in cash in his pockets, this amount...

Was nothing.

He walked out of Travel Peace Residence.

The morning air was almost excessively clean.

Most of the shops on both sides of Sixth Street had not opened yet. Only the steamers at a few breakfast stalls were giving off white vapor.

There were only scattered pedestrians on the street, most of them ordinary citizens heading out early.

Gan Ming stretched lazily.

Just as he was considering whether to buy a few baskets of buns from the roadside to fill his stomach first, he caught sight of a taxi parked across the street from the corner of his eye.

The car window was rolled halfway down.

A crew cut and a broad, grinning face.

"Sir! Morning!"

Zhou Sheng leaned half his body out of the driver's seat and waved at him.

Gan Ming was somewhat surprised. "When did you get here?"

"Past five, I guess."

Zhou Sheng's smile looked a little embarrassed.

"I figured you'd definitely be heading to the Fallen Zone to level up today, so I came over early to wait. I'd only be sitting around at home anyway."

Past five.

Gan Ming looked at him without saying anything, then opened the rear door and got in.

"Sir, do the clothes fit?" Zhou Sheng looked at Gan Ming through the rearview mirror. "The shoe size all right too?"

"Just right."

"That's good, that's good." Zhou Sheng put the car in gear. "Where are we going?"

"The Association."

"Got it."

The car drove onto the main road.

Morning rush hour had not started yet, so the roads were clear.

Gan Ming leaned back in the rear seat and suddenly remembered something.

"Old Zhou, let me ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"Outside the Association, those private trade associations—what level of Awakened usually go there?"