Naming Technique of the Night -
Chapter 901: 556, Little Boy
Chapter 901: 556, Little Boy
With a snap, all the lights in the room turned on. Zhang Qinghuan was in the living room of a dilapidated apartment building, with thick curtains drawn across the windows.
His brothers, however, were still lying unconscious not far away, none of them dead.
Zhang Qinghuan’s mouth slowly opened as he looked at the person across from him.
Sitting opposite him was Luo Wanya.
“Hmm, I’ve interrogated your little brother. You really didn’t spill anything about Qing Chen Inspector. At least you kept your mouth shut,” Luo Wanya laughed. “What I fear most is encountering a worthless person with no strengths at all. After all, I have to use the guise of this gang to do things for our boss.”
Zhang Qinghuan was a bit dazed. He clearly heard the sound of throats being slashed, knives stabbing into bodies, and gasping breaths, yet none of his brothers were dead.
At this moment, not far away, a silver family member’s mouth moved slightly, simulating those sounds from earlier.
Zhang Qinghuan was startled that there was actually someone skilled in vocal mimicry here—what an art!
Luo Wanya asked, “Your art group… It’s such a strange name for a gang. I’ve seen the Black Dog Group, Protein Bar Freedom Group, and Hardcore Gang Group, but honestly, your kind of group is a first for me. It’s serious with a touch of playfulness, like a cultural troupe.”
“It sounds quite nice,” Zhang Qinghuan weakly said.
Luo Wanya thought for a moment and said, “Next, you need to cooperate with us. We are going to masquerade as your gang members to do some things. By the way, what do you guys usually do?”
Zhang Qinghuan was stunned for a while: “Big brother, we usually are in jail.”
Luo Wanya: “?”
Zhang Qinghuan came to his senses: “We usually smuggle mechanical limbs and occasionally act as enforcers in nursing homes.”
“Interesting,” Luo Wanya signaled his family to untie Zhang Qinghuan and the others. “I’m here in City 22 on a mission, and that was just a necessary part of the process. These days, being cautious is being responsible for your brothers. I hope you don’t mind, we’ll all be family in the future.”
“Alright… Okay,” Zhang Qinghuan slowly got up.
He was somewhat confused. Qing Chen Inspector sent so many genetic warriors over—what was he planning to do?
Sweep away all the gangs in City 22?
…
…
Ninth District, Pigeon Cage Building.
“Knock Knock Knock!”
A rough pounding came from outside the door, causing the battered apartment door to creak.
The door even had several bullet holes, and someone outside was pressing their mechanical eye against the hole, peering inside as if looking through a peephole, not even bothering about the occupant being inside.
Qing Chen calmly asked, “Who’s there?”
“Black Water Gang collecting protection money!” a young voice shouted.
Qing Chen had an impression of this organization—it should be the same people he had shot down with an automatic rifle on the steam train.
They made a living through smuggling, trafficking women and children, and selling human organs.
Qing Chen calmly went to open the door. As soon as the door opened, a cold gun was shoved under his chin.
Three young men crowded in, one of them grinning, “Newcomer, where are you from? Have you prepared your protection fee?”
Qing Chen slowly backed away, “Sixth District, went bankrupt investing in blockchain.”
“No wonder you haven’t lost any parts, seems like you were doing well before,” the young man teased. “How much do you owe? Need me to find you a money-making opportunity? Otherwise, you can’t even afford the protection fee.”
“Why do I have to pay a protection fee?” Qing Chen asked.
“Because our Black Water Gang controls this entire building, everyone living here has to pay two thousand a month,” the young man said. “You pay, you won’t die. If you don’t have the money, I can find you a way to earn it.”
Qing Chen asked curiously, “What way? I won’t sell organs.”
“You can still make money without selling organs,” the young man said with a smile. “Heard of the Cross Game?”
Qing Chen shook his head, “Never heard of it.”
“It’s organized by the big shots in City 22, for helping the poor in the Sub-Districts escape poverty. As long as you win, you can get a large sum of money,” the young man said.
“So what do I need to do?” Qing Chen asked.
“You need to become the prey, and the big shots will hunt you down,” the young man explained. “For 168 hours, you just need to survive in this city by any means. You can’t leave the city or fight back and kill. Survive 168 hours, and you can take away 10 million!”
In the Federation, 10 million is enough for a poor person to make a class leap. You could at least buy a small apartment in the Fifth or Sixth District, and live a lifetime comfortably if not lavishly.
The young man asked, “So, will you pay the protection fee, or become the prey, or do you want other ways to make money? Those ways are simpler.”
Qing Chen calmly said, “I’ll pay the protection fee.”
With that, he took out two thousand from his wallet.
The young man’s eyes lit up because he saw that Qing Chen’s wallet also had a few hundred more in it.
However, these young men didn’t continue to pester him, merely taking the money and patting it in their hands: “Smart guy. Let’s go, guys!”
After saying that, they turned and left.
Qing Chen pondered—did these guys just leave like that?
The look in the young man’s eyes as he left told Qing Chen that these people would definitely come back, but they couldn’t act now.
It seems that even in this lower world, there are certain rules; gangs can’t openly harm those who have paid protection fees.
Otherwise, it would be very difficult to collect protection fees in the future.
At least on the surface, they can’t do it.
Qing Chen took a brief look at the cramped room, ten square meters, one room and one bathroom, with almost nothing except a dirty bed.
The water pipes in the Pigeon Cage Building are still functional, but the sewage system has long been broken, so the toilet can’t be used.
The landlord simply sealed up the toilet bowl.
At this moment, Qing Chen sent a message to Yangyang: “As agreed, I’ve come to the Third District.”
Yangyang: “Now you understand why we want to change this world.”
Qing Chen: “I understand.”
Yangyang: “As agreed, even though it’s tough there, you must stay for a full month.”
This was the exchange condition between Yangyang and Qing Chen. She went to Osaka to take Xiao Zhenji to see her mom and then brought Xiao Zhenji back to Los Angeles City; that’s what Yangyang needed to do.
And what Qing Chen needed to do was to experience life in the Third District for a month.
In fact, Yangyang didn’t gain any actual benefit from this exchange; she just wanted Qing Chen to understand what the Inner World was really like.
Qing Chen put down the phone and shook his head. Actually, the moment he stepped into the Third District, he understood everything.
He wasn’t disgusted by this place at all; instead, he breathed in the pain of every person, every second here, pondering his own direction.
Lost in thought, a small head poked in through the door, and Qing Chen looked over. The moment their eyes met, the boy quickly pulled back in fear.
It was the same little boy who had stolen Qing Chen’s phone earlier, his mechanical eyes looking particularly out of place.
“Come in, I have a few questions for you, and I can give you money,” Qing Chen said.
The skinny little boy, looking as thin as a matchstick, walked in timidly: “What do you want to ask? One question, one dollar, no less.”
“What’s your name, and how old are you?” Qing Chen asked.
“Zhang Mengchan, 13 years old, that’s two questions, you owe me two dollars!” the boy said.
Qing Chen frowned, assessing the boy, he asked after a two-second silence: “Where are your parents?”
Zhang Mengchan leaned against the wall, his voice full of indifference: “I don’t have parents.”
“I am paying,” Qing Chen said.
Zhang Mengchan hesitated for a moment: “This question costs two dollars. I ran away from the Seventh District because they had already lined up a buyer. Once I turned fourteen, they planned to take my kidney.”
Qing Chen felt his breath catch.
So, this is the Inner World.
Master Uncle Li Dong adopted so many orphans, not because he wanted to fight in groups, but because if he didn’t adopt them, some kids wouldn’t survive.
Qing Chen asked, “Why are you following me?”
“I think you’re different from the people here. A heads-up for you: paying protection fees obediently could get you killed here. You need to understand what it means to resist, so they won’t dare to mess with you easily,” Zhang Mengchan said. “Even a kid like me understands this; how can you not? Consider this my payback for catching me but not beating me.”
Qing Chen asked, “What will those Black Water Gang people do to me?”
“Even though they’ve left for now, they’ll sneak into your room around four or five o’clock in the morning, sedate you, and then take one of your kidneys,” Zhang Mengchan said.
“Understood,” Qing Chen nodded.
“Why aren’t you scared at all,” Zhang Mengchan asked.
“I am scared, pretty scared,” Qing Chen got up and walked towards the door.
“You haven’t paid me yet,” Zhang Mengchan chased after him, saying: “Also, here’s another piece of information for you. They probably tricked you into joining the Cross Game, right? Actually, every participant dies. Those rich folks use the most advanced weapons to hunt the prey, and even if a prey miraculously survives past 168 hours, they will surely die because they don’t want the media to know about this game. Furthermore, the rewards are actually given to intermediaries like the Black Water Gang, they never really plan to pay a mere ant ten million.”
This kid, unexpectedly mature, spoke about the matters of the Third District with clear insight.
Qing Chen took out a hundred yuan from his wallet and handed it to Zhang Mengchan, who directly stuffed it into his crotch, making sure it wasn’t conspicuous while walking before feeling reassured.
To this day, even in this inner-world slum with such advanced technology and the Internet, paper money is still used, simply because it remains the most stable way to evade taxes and launder money under big data surveillance.
At this moment, Qing Chen walked past a door and saw five people inside, all wearing brain-computer interfaces, sitting quietly, occasionally making painful noises.
“What are these people doing?” Qing Chen asked.
Zhang Mengchan glanced inside and nonchalantly replied: “They’re hired by businessmen to use brain-computer interfaces to connect their brains, then use the computing power of their brains to mine in the blockchain. The businessmen rent them the equipment and pay them wages. This way of making money is quite simple, just that it kills you quickly.”
“These people still look very young, but many of their brains can’t take it anymore; most will die before thirty.”
Qing Chen calmly watched this scene; this is a world where the weak are no longer protected by law. The oppression from capital does not lock you in a cage, but lets you willingly enter it and be a willing pig.
He turned and walked down the stairs out of the Pigeon Cage, the boy asked behind him, “Where are you going?”
“Going to work.”
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