The shopkeeper extended a fist for Chen Ming to see.
"One hundred?"
"One thousand."
"Then never mind."
Ten million, and he might not even manage it—Chen Ming wouldn't be fooled that easily.
Not to mention whether he could afford the ten million, he couldn't even get to the Military Outpost.
Although Chen Ming had assumed a new identity, his face and the Iron Ore No. itself might both be in the military's database.
Going to a Military Outpost would be akin to suicide.
That's why Chen Ming had been considering whether to swap ships.
There were pros and cons to both swapping and not swapping, so he felt conflicted.
Forget it, I'll think about it later.
He didn't plan to leave the Space Station anytime soon; there was time to ponder this.
Chen Ming stopped thinking about those unnecessary matters, focusing on the present.
But then something occurred to him, and he asked, "By the way, boss, how much for a regular ID here?"
