[Task Objective Updated]

[Proceed to the scene. (Not Achieved)]

The disappearance of construction workers due to side jobs doesn't really count as a legitimate case in Eden City—it's like prohibited drugs appearing in the Red Light District or bloodstains on the Ghoul's backseat, quite normal.

John gradually slowed down his vehicle.

The cheap jacket gradually clung to his T-shirt, conveniently covering the smart pistol tucked at his lower back.

All his handy weapons and close-combat butterfly knife, accumulated back then apart from the motorcycle, were lost in countless brushes with death, leaving him with a shabby air.

[Eden City-South District Storage Center Edge]

John parked by the roadside, gazing at the inter-district bridge.

The water's hue appeared somewhat gloomy, the monotonous colors of the warehouses and countless concrete structures blocked the view, allowing glimpses of the equally gray sky and the hot shells of aircraft.

The homeless under the shadows glanced at John.

They had non-original liquor bottles and broken prosthetic limbs, greasy stains all over their smelly work shorts.

John was mistaken for a car thief, even earning some admiration.

The vehicle activated its roam mode and left.

He walked through the desolate warehouses along the broken iron chains.

The current slapped against the cement embankment overgrown with weeds.

Gravel rustled softly.

The destination lay right below the inter-district bridge, with the highway ten meters overhead, the sound insulation was excellent, conveniently masking the massive industrial engines and criminal noise under the bridge piers.

Two massive turbine structures were devouring the water flow.

Two cars were parked by the shore, with flame-shaped paint jobs, surrounded by seven or eight flamboyant gang thugs.

Among the crowd were also a few repair workers.

They wore diving suits, with black rubber jackets hanging at their waists, breathing devices and toolboxes placed by their feet.

John initiated the scan results.

They were unrelated to the missing person, most likely the replacement repair workers hired by the boss behind the scenes.

[Gather Information. (Not Achieved)]

"Hey, you, get lost."

The gangsters saw John approaching and raised the sawn-off shotgun in hand, posing fiercely.

"Relax, fellas, I don't want any trouble."

John spread his hands, calmly moving forward, instantly surrounded by uniquely styled street thugs.

"I want to inquire about something... about last week, maybe. A repair worker disappeared here, who can fill me in on the details?"

His hands were open, his gaze focused, noticing indeed that someone showed signs of annoyance and agitation.

The leading thug had tall hair, three nails across the bridge of his nose, lunged forward to push John's chest, followed with a curse.

"F*cking idiot, how about I use a bullet to give your brain some nutrition?"

"Cops are investigating, give it another chance, let's talk properly."

John brought up Barry, didn't name names, just used the ECPD's authority to intimidate the street rookies.

But he miscalculated.

The gangsters at this scene lacked experience, but like most fresh blood.

Reckless and impulsive.

The guy behind John raised a spiked steel rod, filled with somber grooves and blood scabs, swung it fiercely at the back of his head, only slicing through the breeze.

The thug leader's lips didn't even have time to curl up.

He felt a bit of swelling in his ears, the stranger who just spread his hands turned into a gray blur.

The thug assigned to sneak attack swung the steel rod in vain.

He staggered forward, barely reacting before his head twisted two hundred seventy degrees to the side with some stiffness, crashing hard onto the ground.

John appeared behind the corpse, still with his hands raised, as if the man had just phased through him.

The cheap jacket lifted slightly.

As if gusted by the wind.

"...Fa..."

The gang leader's lips moved, dry, fetid saliva flying out, but was interrupted by a burst of sharp pain before completing the word.

Sianweistan activated again.

John disarmed his gun with a joint trick, Igdrasir's alloy skeleton brought up the knuckles, driving the metal tip of his fist into the opponent's armpit.

The leader's arm rose high, even surpassing the shoulder.

John followed through, holstered the gun on his hand, spun it half a circle, then it perfectly settled back into his palm.

Bang, bang, bang...

The bullets lined up in the air.

The gang members' bodies collapsed sequentially, not even having the chance to mount effective resistance.

"Ah! Phew~ damn... damn it..."

The gang leader slumped to the ground.

His right arm had a massive tear, the blood pool spreading, yet being the only among the armed to emit a scream was his luck.

"Who's paying you?"

John raised the gun at him, but his gaze focused on the repair workers, signaling them with his eyes not to flee, else they'd face equally dismal outcomes.

"Fla... Flavio!"

The leader gritted his teeth.

John sighed.

"Do I look like a census taker? What the hell's a name for, who's this Shark Coin working for, where's the bounty coming from, specific details!"

"Cablesteel Heavy Industries, he's the person in charge!"

The gang leader's tears and snot bubbles popped out, curled up like a frozen meatball, seemingly unable to respond further.

John then raised the muzzle.

The repair workers instantly became tense, obediently raising their hands and distancing themselves from the gang members.

"We're just here for work for money."

John shook his head.

"Prove your worth, or why should you be standing?"

The few repair workers began to form their words, immediately someone spoke up.

They were also professional equipment repairmen, taking side jobs to handle the turbines' fan blades nearby, needing to walk underwater twenty meters to clear the source of the fault.

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