[Eden City - Damascus Camp]

John and his group arrived smoothly.

The jack, shaped like a flatbed, was pushed under the armored vehicle, steadily supporting all four wheels, and moved with flashing lights and sirens to the entrance of a large container.

Screwdriver pulled out a tablet from his work pants, and under the glow of the light strip, thick eye bags could be seen.

Their nighttime return woke many from their dreams, faces showing fatigue and joy; during the day, these people had plenty of work in the camp.

Mechanical arms hung down from the stacked giant containers, working with hoisting equipment to steadily lift the battered Jurassic ZT15.

John sat on a broken-legged metal tabletop, letting his mind wander.

Even at night, many pieces of equipment would not shut down, with the machine room and power section reverberating with a hum, a slight noise that reassured those falling asleep, as if someone was always awake in the camp, providing warmth and protection.

Searchlights shone from several directions like signal towers, windbreak cliffs, and parking lots, casting long shadows on the bonfires and boxes covered in sand and rubble, and stretching out the silhouettes of sentry soldiers...

RVs and tents were densely packed, creating a sense of layering in the gathering place, with shielding boards pulled taut by steel cables anchored into the ground, and thick wires meandering between rocks and equipment.

Amidst the chaos, there was an indistinct boundary line.

Even as spray paint was covered by yellow sand, barricades and debris were moved, no wanderer would lose their way.

Because this was their home.

The air at home always carried the scent of food and fuel.

Perhaps this was a sense of belonging.

Wanderers gathered in small groups, either discussing around some dismantled equipment or maintaining their gear and firearms, each possessing a craft for survival.

Busy activity and laziness coexisted under the slightly quiet night sky.

Including John, those awake held drinks, with bottles and cans scattered among the stacks of debris and sand cracks, to be cleaned when another part of the camp awoke.

John withdrew his gaze and picked up a cold beer, with condensation trickling from the crook of his thumb to his forearm, dispelling some fatigue and drowsiness.

Underneath a slightly distant camouflage canopy.

Simon sat on an old dark green equipment box, talking with wanderers dressed like cowboys.

By capturing lip movements with a translation plugin, one could infer that he was recounting John's plan, which involved working with farm owners to develop a fresh produce supply chain business.

The camp was mainly concerned because engaging in fresh transport meant competing with urban protein food factories and the capital behind them, making open and hidden conflicts and casualties unavoidable.

But the situation wasn't as bad as imagined.

Radiant Dust Farm leaned more toward raw material supplies, delivering fresh food to various distributors; whether to further process or sell them as-is didn't matter.

Wanderers with a say were arriving one after another.

Their clothing style was primarily practical, favoring leather products over light strips and sequins, revealing arms with hair and veins, with muscles constrained under vests.

No results came from the on-site discussion.

Nando hadn't returned, and several shelved topics remained, but it didn't stop more wanderers from gathering, primarily to express concern for Simon's ordeal and celebrate his safe return.

The tent became very lively.

John casually tasted his beer from afar when someone slowly sat beside him.

Talia raised her glass bottle to clink with his.

"Are you looking for Alonna? She left through the Border Wall two nights ago. It must be important work; with the boss not around, she isn't obligated to report to anyone."

Talia curled her knees, lazily draped her arms over them, and grinned mischievously toward the nearby tent.

"What's the deal with the girl sleeping inside?"

"F*cking hell, her husband and daughter are in intensive care."

"OK~Sorry~"

Talia shook her head, then chuckled lightly.

"Of course, I'm kidding, buddy; no girl in a nightclub could compare to her, and at a glance, I can tell this woman is hard to deal with; surely she's served in a covert department."

"Ha, Simon told you, didn't he?"

John squinted, tasting the beer, and looked at her sideways, not at all believing this crazy woman had such an eye.

"Mm-hmm~"

Talia lowered her voice and leaned closer, reeking of alcohol, saying she had worked an outdoor assignment with the KGB after retiring.

John was slightly surprised, examining her from top to bottom.

Talia leaned against the wall, laughing with grandeur, her neck and two arms were solid, with the post-discharge remnant flesh indeed present, her skin was darkened, dusty, and greasy.

She wore a gray vest, with raised curves, probably without an undergarment.

A sharp whistle brought her back to reality.

John and she shared a knowing middle finger, then drank his beer and casually asked.

"Are you one of the camp's migrating types?"

"Damn it, where'd you learn that word; it's terrible... but understanding it that way isn't wrong; I don't like being stuck in one place, making me feel restless and uncomfortable."

Talia spread her palms, as if pressing down on an invisible, elastic ball.

She said the sandstorm and vehicles grounded her.

Whenever staying in the city too long, she'd feel inexplicably agitated, like a drug addict experiencing withdrawal, and neither alcohol nor drugs helped; even debauchery and indulgence couldn't calm her.

"...utterly, fucking, crazy, wanting to shout at electronic screens and skyscrapers, always feeling like the strength in my bones is gone, a fire in my chest, screaming out loud but drowned by ads and neon lights... how to put it..."

Her fingers began to tremble, gritting her teeth, as if the airball in her palm was struggling mightily.

"It feels like the city is gnawing at my flesh, slowly, soundlessly cracking open my bones, yellow and white, slowly being digested by it..."

Talia had already made up her mind.

If Damascus Camp eventually settles in Eden City, she'll take on transportation tasks to other cities. Only by continuing to move can she consider herself temporarily and clearly alive.

"That's quite optimistic. Ah, check this out."

John pulled out the Widow Short Scatter and handed it over.

Talia put down the beer bottle, raised the gun to inspect it, and once given a nod of approval, she removed the magazine and the external attachments, clicking her tongue in wonder.

"It's quite ingenious, though the materials are a bit simple. If upgraded, it would probably pack more of a punch."

"Then you can keep it for fun."

John never intended to take it back.

He had picked up a silenced pistol made by Raqi Industry in the hospital, easy to carry and highly armor-piercing, making the Widow Short Scatter redundant and a bit cumbersome when running with it in his pocket.

Click.

Talia spun the gun and snapped open the chamber, inspecting the internal wear and tear without a hint of politeness or gratitude. After all, this was a tier below the vodka revolver she had compensated John with initially.

John continued drinking, unable to sleep due to the medication's lingering effects and his tense nerves.

Maya thought they had taken out Du Remon, and the commotion was quite substantial. It would be best to stay at the camp to avoid the limelight until the situation was fully resolved or the news Bone Shards talked about came out.

Before Talia left, she pointed out a few camper vans to John.

She mentioned that they were filled with thrilling girls from the camp, promising that each one would be willing and could cure his insomnia.

Night gradually thinned, reaching the dawn anxiety period.

John was shaken awake by Simon.

He didn't even know when he fell asleep, just lying on the metal tabletop where they had been drinking and chatting, leaning against the warehouse wall stacked with supplies, covered by a thick blanket.

Simon glanced and playfully scolded.

"...Might as well just roll in the sheets with Talia, blowing outside for Shark Coin is no fun."

"F*ck, Simon, what's the point of waking me up."

"Nando is coming back."

Simon laid it out for John.

Alonna left Eden City to fetch the return—the Silver Port incident had not ended yet, and the major capitalists of Eden City were unwilling to see the Leader of Wanderers return.

Few people in the camp received the message.

Nando also knew about the project's exclusion.

He was quite interested in John's proposal, having Simon handle it ahead, planning to contact the Radiant Dust Farm once the camp's accumulated matters were resolved.

Once successful, John would receive a middleman fee.

Damascus now had plenty of money, hid lots of interesting items from the Silver Port spoils, and to repay John for saving Simon, the repair costs for the armored vehicle were waived with some minor modifications added.

This truly solved John's troubles.

Now that the Black Gold Gang had changed leadership, the West District Car Dismantling Plant was entirely managed by Bone Shards, making any car sent there for repairs feel uneasy—Eisenberg Silver Rider's sports car was still being held.

Fortunately, the Wanderers were also skilled in vehicle repair and modification.

Simon relaying the news seemed like a signal.

John started receiving calls one after another.

More happened last night in Eden City than imagined.

[Contact - Oulos Grenada [Video Call]]

[Did you take out Du Remon?]

Oulos, wearing champagne-colored sleepwear, apparently sat cross-legged in front of a floor-to-ceiling window pouring herself a drink. Red and blue lights flickered outside the glass curtain wall, and the sound of sirens rose and fell faintly in the background,

"That's right, it's a long story, I got a job..."

John pondered how to explain, but Oulos calmly interrupted.

[Did you take anything or find any clues?]

"A mobile device with transaction records."

John answered truthfully.

They were in a partnership and even owed lives. When things got complicated, never be clever and withhold information.

Oulos appeared enlightened, raising her short hair and asked.

[Who went with you? Why did you think of taking that thing? What did she tell you...]

John took some time to explain Maya's situation, saying that taking the device was purely because the cabinet reminded him.

Oulos clearly absorbed a lot.

From John's description, she knew who it was, even more so than he understood that second-hand dealer on Barrel Street.

[Keep the item safe, pretend you know nothing if anyone asks. In half an hour, remember to watch the morning news...wait for me to contact you actively.]

Oulos hung up the call.

After consulting with Simon, John woke Maya. Before discussing and probing the situation, arriving even earlier than the morning news was a call from a lieutenant colonel at the Eden City Police Station.

[Contact - Barry Kit [Voice Call]]

[John, just tell me, was it you who killed old Du?]

John contemplated how to answer, and his silence already gave it away.

Barry took a deep breath, paused, sighed, and after a moment of brewing said.

[Over two hundred people died at Sakura Cross Street last night. Now, dozens of corporate executives and wealthy individuals are lying in the ICU...]

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