The ground beneath their boots was still trembling with a low, rhythmic vibration, and no one knew if the cracked concrete was about to give way again. Jing Shu couldn't believe these people were still standing guard by the metal exit instead of running for their lives through the dust.
Xiao Hei raised both hands in the air. "Hey, guys, easy there. Let's all put the guns down and talk this out."
The dark muzzles lowered slightly, and a familiar face stepped out. It was George, the man who had taken that zombie hippo a few days ago. He clapped his hands with a wide grin. "Congratulations, lucky Asian folks. You're the A-tier mercenary team that survived this disaster, so you will be promoted to S-tier. From now on, you will fight for the black market, and every victory will earn you a fortune in black market coins."
From somewhere in the dark distance came an old man's rough voice. "Quit wasting time, the new government's people are almost here!"
That's when Jing Shu finally realized what the underground nobles were plotting. They were in a hurry to pick the strongest team from the survivors to fight against the city's forces. Whoever won would decide the power structure and how the remaining resources were divided.
Both sides were desperate. The nobles in the black market, and the luxurious upper crust of Sacramento, were about to face an all-out war. The new regime was sending in U.S. troops to reclaim control, while the Mexican army was pressing north, ready to invade. Sacramento was about to explode into chaos, and if these resource-rich fat sheep didn't flee soon, they would be bled dry.
So the two forces had decided to cooperate temporarily, escape together, and seek shelter under the powerful Austin overlord. But that brought a new problem: how would they divide their assets? What if they disagreed mid-escape? The black market had over a hundred middle-class nobles hoarding supplies, while Sacramento was ruled by a single tyrant under a slave system. In the end, both sides decided to let mercenary strength settle the score.
The entire underground market had collapsed, and Jing Shu had no idea how many people made it out alive. Not many, for sure. But when another A-tier team emerged, George simply grouped them with Jing Shu's squad and two teams trained by the nobles, then led everyone toward the battlefield.
The rumor was that this match would determine how the two sides split resources. The losers would have to hand over their mines and assets as protection tribute. The new government had already declared its intent to wipe out both of these cancers, so it was no wonder everyone was running scared through the shifting silt.
"So what is Old Goat's deal with making us S-tier mercs for the black market?" Tank muttered, counting on his fingers as he tried to make sense of the situation. "Wait a sec, if we're fighting for one side and they're fighting for the other, doesn't mean we will end up killing each other?"
Xiao Hei sat in the corner of the moving vehicle, shivering. "Can I back out? I don't want to fight in some damn tournament, I just want to go back to the slums and live."
But before anyone could answer him, a deep rumble echoed through the air again. The slums had started to collapse too. Xiao Hei swallowed hard. He was doomed. "Shit, my five thousand black market coins; I didn't even get to spend them. I didn't bring my luggage either," he wailed.
Jing Shu was starting to piece together what Yang Yang was planning. One thing was clear: whether it was the black market's goods or Sacramento's, he wanted it all for himself.
"I have got to hurry and practice with the Rubik's Cube, or I will miss out on all this loot," Jing Shu muttered, pulling out her Cube Space. She forced herself to keep using her illusions, pushing to her mental limit over and over until sweat beaded on her forehead. Through trial and error, she could feel herself getting close to a breakthrough. It was just a little more!
Word was, the new government had already crushed nearby cities and was almost at Sacramento's gates. When Jing Shu passed by the canal, she saw workers loading massive amounts of supplies into shipping containers, getting ready to flee the city that very night.
The match was set to take place right there at the dock, under the glare of harsh floodlights. Both sides gathered their fighters and built two arenas. Each merc team could only occupy one. The word was, each platform represented a seat of authority.
The rules were simple: kill the mercenaries on the platform and take their place.
George briefed them on the way, his voice hurried. "Listen, we have got to win at least one arena. Each victory is worth fifty thousand black market coins, and you will come with us to Austin. If we can't take even one, we will have no choice but to stay here and surrender to the new government. Better to be eaten by them than bled dry by these so-called nobles."
Jing Shu understood now. If they didn't split teams, they would only get resources from the city side, not the black market. So this was all about balance. Still, she figured Sacramento's city side would have better conditions.
But holy hell, she hadn't expected this kind of luxury.
Yang Yang, who she hadn't seen in a while, looked like a walking gold mine. He wore a thick gold chain and heavy gemstone rings on both hands, along with dark sunglasses, a cigar, and a glass of red wine.
Beside him, the so-called lucky monk Hao Yunlai had a Black woman in his left arm and a blonde, blue-eyed beauty in his right. Someone was even massaging his shoulders while he sat there with his eyes half-closed, completely blissed out.
And that monk who had been kicked out of Shaolin? He was hugging a giant bucket filled with steaming white rice and rich curry beef stew, eating like there was no tomorrow as the rich scent filled the air.
"What the hell kind of life had these idiots been living in the city?!"
The only one who looked halfway normal was Zhen Nantian. He still had that cold, detached face, standing quietly by the wall like he didn't belong in this world.
Meanwhile, look at Jing Shu's team. She didn't even want to talk about it. They had just come out of that underground tournament still in their filthy striped uniforms. The match had collapsed before it even started, they had crawled up through a dark trash chute, and before they could even wash up, they were dragged here for another fight. Everyone stank. The contrast couldn't have been sharper: heaven and hell.
Yang Yang subtly shook his head, signaling both sides to act like they didn't know each other. The Snake Spirit muttered complaints to Ling Ling in a low whisper.
Representing the powerful Sacramento side were Yang Yang, Zhen Nantian, the monk, and Hao Yunlai. They stepped onto one of the metal platforms first. The black market's surviving A-tier team went up to challenge them, convinced they had already pocketed fifty thousand black market coins.
After all, a team was usually six people, and the Chinese side only had four. They were weak, easy to bully. Piece of cake, right?
Wrong. So, so wrong.
The crowd burst into laughter; mocking, gleeful laughter. Those who had already suffered losses to these four weaklings knew exactly how terrifying they were.
The match began. Yang Yang sipped his wine calmly, and Zhen Nantian leaned against the wall like a cold statue. Hao Yunlai stayed half-asleep, still enjoying himself. Only the ascetic monk stepped forward, his hand gripping a heavy metal staff as he entered the arena.