The sun blazed overhead.
Fierce winds whipped up the yellow sand.
It stung as it struck their faces.
Outside the border checkpoint of the NGL Autonomous Region.
A long line of people waited.
A tall wooden watchtower cast an enormous shadow.
Several guards dressed in coarse linen stood at the entrance.
They held primitive detectors and handmade inspection tools.
Their cold eyes swept over everyone seeking entry.
Two guards roughly shoved a bespectacled, middle-aged scholar out of the line.
The scholar fell onto the sand.
He scrambled up, his face full of anger.
"Why won't you let me in?"
The scholar shouted.
"I haven't brought any contraband!"
A guard stared at him expressionlessly.
He raised a hand and pointed at the scholar's mouth.
"The second tooth on your lower left."
"It's a porcelain-fused-to-metal crown."
The guard's voice was as cold and hard as raw iron.
"NGL strictly prohibits all products synthesized by modern industry."
"Either pull that tooth out right now."
"Or get the hell back where you came from."
The scholar clutched his cheek.
He backed away in fright.
In the end, he slunk off in defeat.
Killua watched the scene from farther back in the line.
The corner of his mouth twitched violently.
"That's way too extreme."
Killua felt the latest-model handheld game console in his pocket.
"They won't even let you bring false teeth."
"Then my game console and chocolate balls are doomed."
Kite stood at the front of their group.
He readied several sets of carefully falsified identification papers.
"That's how it works."
"All metal."
"Plastic."
"Glass."
"Modern medicines containing chemical compounds, and electronics."
"If any are discovered."
"You'll immediately face execution or permanent expulsion."
Kite looked toward the security checkpoint ahead.
"When our turn comes."
"We'll even have to cut off every metal zipper on