"Damn, where'd you get this treasure from? See over there, those Calormen and modified pickups, that's what everyone else is driving. And you come rolling in with a U70 for your supplies, that's badass!"

Talia drove the Desert Walker into the building's shadow.

The cool air from the cold storage echoed between the towering structures, mingling with the sounds of equipment horns, workers and customers bickering, and the relentless hum of industrial engines.

Gerry and Maya were in charge of coordinating the supplies.

Each piece of raw material was loaded into gray sealed boxes, transported via freight elevators and lifting equipment to the transfer area, then sequentially loaded by robotic arms and forklifts onto vehicles on the circular internal road.

Dealers, mercenaries, wanderers, farm workers...

Every passerby couldn't help but notice John's Potsdam-U70, many even stopping to watch, folding their arms and clustering to discuss, drooling over its superior cargo capacity and armor.

Now the protein food companies, like mad dogs, are biting everyone in sight, making the roads leading to the Radiant Dust Farm treacherous.

Everyone knows how safe bulletproof armored vehicles are, but not everyone has what it takes to get their hands on a Potsdam-U70.

Talia got some ice-cold beer.

The two sat inside the vehicle, listening to wasteland rock as they chatted idly.

The Radiant Dust Farm had already bought the surrounding plots.

It would slowly be transformed into a large park, centered around a super skyscraper factory.

Temporary steel-structured housing sprouted everywhere.

Damascus members came and went, their clothes covered in sweat and dust, either operating equipment and vehicles or hauling materials and smart tools.

It had a strong wanderer vibe here.

Extension cords were dragged every which way, and everywhere you looked there were RVs, barrel fires, makeshift shacks and ice machines, with drinks and equipment sharing cooling devices...

Talia mentioned that Damascus Camp had already formed a deep partnership with the Radiant Dust Farm, planning to make this their base camp, and that in the future, the fresh food stores all over Eden City would be the anchor points for their influence on the city.

"In the future, people smuggling and legally crossing from the west can consider joining the Wanderers instead of the Black Gold Gang, becoming family members, contributing, seeking recognition, and getting protection!"

"F*ck, isn't this gonna lead to a turf war with the gangs... You think Bone Shards will just let you guys develop?"

John frowned and raised the question.

But Talia just waved her hand and laughed.

"Do you think Radiant Dust Farm is rooted in the West District by accident? This reconstructed cluster of buildings is actually all owned by Jingke, they're not only the shadowy capital behind the Black Gold Gang but also stakeholders in the farm. The West District is their territory..."

There's corporate influence and capital everywhere.

"God, Nando's really something. When he wasn't around, you guys were just getting pushed around, lost like a soul. Now he's back, and you're ready to run this city?"

Damascus had crossed the threshold from a 'family' to a 'tribe'.

Eden City is a "dream city" filled with corporations, and if Nando can further influence it, it could become as influential as the Seven Nations of Wanderers.

"What about your camp outside the city?"

"We're not moving for now."

Talia seemed in high spirits, shaking John's shoulder, almost like too much excitement was mixed into her beer.

Nando gave the members of Damascus Camp two choices.

Those seeking stability could mingle with the city's business, old soldiers unwilling or unable to wander could do the same—there'd be no more need to migrate, shifting focus to the Radiant Dust Farm and fresh food business.

"Creating an economic foundation for the family's kids and future."

The camp outside the city would be preserved as a trade hub connecting cities.

Damascus Camp had virtually swept away the Exiles outside Eden City, controlling the border checkpoints and the wasteland's interior region, holding a substantial number of smuggling routes initially, and now expanding the number of transport lines and scale of business several times over through alliances with farm owners.

Members like Talia, who longed for freedom, were responsible for city-to-city transport and smuggling operations.

She raised her beer to cheers with John.

The cold liquid swirled inside the amber glass.

Talia tilting her head back to drink, watching the heavy-duty elevator and various indicator lights shooting skyward along the wall.

"I'll tell you quietly, Nando believes that our trade outside the city is our last resource. If ever the Wanderers were double-crossed by the corporate dogs and got kicked out from city farm businesses... we'd at least have a backup, a business that can still support the family."

"You're leaving?"

"Ha, that's right."

Talia was set on the inter-city trade, leaving Eden City with the convoys, connecting with other Wanderer Camps.

"Farewell, brother, but to be honest, I really don't get it. Sleeping in the vehicle, enduring the temperature swings and attacks from day to night, cleaning out the sand from the smart rifles every day, circling the goods—hmm, with industrial-smelling bulletproof armored cars and sealed boxes... Life, it's just radars, communication frequencies, wild chases paired with steaming blood..."

John leaned against the car window, his gaze unfocused, pursing his lips as he turned to meet Talia's eyes.

"I used to run transports, so I get it, but those damn bills left me no choice... what about you, why do you choose this life on purpose?"

"Haha, John, what I chose isn't smuggling or gunfights or scratching a living in the wasteland. It's freedom, brother. Maybe the neon lights and steel jungles thrill you, becoming someone respected with prosthetics and guns..."

Talia squinted, biting her lower lip, the fervor on her face fading as she sighed and forced a smile.

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