"...F*ck, is this Jilead?"

John felt unfamiliar with the man in front of him.

He looked at least twenty centimeters taller, muscles inflated, his entire throat to chest covered with black soft metal.

"Hmm, now you should call him Mr. Jilead."

Gino crossed his arms, introducing in a calm tone.

"He is now the general manager of the Habitable Rental Company, in charge of rents in the West District and the checkpoint on Dan Street..."

Listening to his friend's current situation, John felt a sense of being transported to another world.

Jilead had been venting his emotions in this fight club for the past week.

Equipped with a super prosthetic body, he went into the ring high on drugs, resulting in no fighter successfully advancing for a whole week.

"Does the Black Gold Gang management allow this?"

"Initially, they weren't happy, but later... they found the viewership ratings increased instead of dropping, so they mixed stuff into his drugs to encourage Jilead to keep fighting, without considering him or the other fighters at all."

"Are the fighters idiots?"

John also knew the rules of the ring matches.

Fighters could easily switch venues and still accumulate enough points to advance.

"The management uses Jilead as a gimmick, setting bounty points and extra material rewards for him. Whoever beats him gets a season ticket to directly participate in the most lucrative event of the year..."

The streets are never short of desperados.

No one wants to miss the chance for a comeback.

"This needs to end, John."

The respirator masked Gino's face, only her furrowed brow was visible.

"He's already killed several fighters in the past two days. The organizers are even thinking of offering more brutal weapons, opening prosthetic restrictions, whew~ he's almost become a slaughter tool for the corporation's lackeys."

John turned and looked at the ring.

The match was already over.

Jilead was in a state of frenzy, and the beaten fighter didn't even have a chance to surrender; in a few more minutes, the cleanup crew could start preparing to wash down the ring and roll out body bags.

Gino carried a medical bag with her.

She took out a matching respirator from it, opened the filter, took out the green antidote inside, then placed it in a portable injector and handed it to John.

"You need to give him a shot."

After Gino finished speaking, she staggered a few steps.

She blinked, realizing her palm was already empty; in front of her was just the wall of the backstage corridor. Turning her body, she just caught a glimpse of John's back as he leaped over the railing.

Sianweistan's speed is truly fast.

"...Efficiency is really high."

Gino always felt something odd about John's state, weak yet agitated.

The hallucinatory smoke enveloping the venue thrilled the audience.

Some people started to gather, confront the security, or were provoked by electric batons into resorting to violence.

Some losing gamblers seized the chance to join in, releasing their inner dissatisfaction.

Smashing things and cursing no longer satisfied the audience's emotions; soon, bloodshed appeared in the stands, followed by a chain reaction, with the conflict spreading to every corner of the venue.

Everyone had lost interest in the ring matches.

That's when John vaulted over the barriers.

The electronic bio-detector emitted a red light, the alarm sounded, notifying security of an outsider illegally entering.

Sianweistan activated at high speed.

John's jacket billowed in the air, through the gaps, one could see the metal spine flickering a faint light, while his artificial eyes left trails in the smoke, slowly converging to the center of the ring.

"WTF!?"

Bam—

Jilead reflexively swung a punch.

John was forced to raise his arm to block, feeling as if hit by a heavy leather-wrapped hammer, shooting through the air, rolling directly to the edge of the stage.

"...Sh*t!"

The injector jostled several times and was about to fly out when John caught it.

Sizzle.

The trailing edge of the jacket was scorched by the high-temperature railing.

John adjusted his balance, looking at Jilead with lingering fear:

He had stopped punching, his neck twitching slightly, pupils of different sizes, heavy breaths steaming, making the area around his mouth moist.

"Cough, cough, phew—"

The fallen fist spat out a mouthful of blood.

He could no longer open his eyes, trembling hands, scratching more marks on the floor already covered in red lines, trying to seek outside help.

The referee and security couldn't respond to him.

The high-rise glass room remained silent.

The audience were fighting with weapons in their seats.

The coaching staff, due to uneven distribution of spoils, were knocked unconscious in the corridor by the match intermediaries.

...

The ceiling spotlights were unbearably hot.

Various extreme emotions surged through the smoke surrounding the ring.

There were no women in the memories of the fighters before they died.

He once again had that monotonous dream, occupying a corner in the boxing match ads above the city, saving money for training, replacing his fighting prosthetic in an underground clinic without anesthesia...

Bang.

The sound of flesh and blood colliding rang out.

John flew up, kneeing Jilead.

This knee strike was enough to incapacitate a normal person, but his neck had clearly been specially modified, only causing him to stagger back a few steps and suffer minor burns from the high-temperature railing.

Jilead gritted his teeth in pain, suddenly lowering his head.

He saw a syringe stuck in his chest, with only a small amount of green drug hanging on the chamber's glass wall.

"What... the... hell... gasp..."

The drug was rapidly taking effect.

Jilead regained some consciousness, yet fell into agony, losing drug-induced numbness leading to excited nerve synapses, the intense pain from all over his body almost causing him to faint.

Thud, thud thud!

He knelt on the ground, hammering the ring.

A large number of Black Gold Gang guards gathered around.

They were unaware of John's intent yet dared not approach Jilead.

John turned to look upwards; across the ring was a piece of one-way glass—the inside was the boxing match VIP room.

Bone Shards had once entertained him there.

Surely some sinister old bastard stood behind the glass, promoting chaos and violence, driving gamblers insane, inciting the audience while fighters and uncontrollable lunatics were engulfed in rage, ultimately perishing on the capital's ring.

"...John, is that you?"

Before collapsing, Jilead finally uttered his first human words.

[Eden City - West District Old Loading Dock]

The night wind carried a chill.

John drove Jilead away from the underground boxing arena.

Just as he left the truck seat, he clung to the iron railing, vomiting violently.

"Man, you puke better than a cement mixer; that's f*cking disgusting, what the hell is this smell..."

Gino raised his hand to cover his mouth.

That shit was like fermented protein goo, with spoiled liquor, mixed with a unique acidic scent of chemical products.

Gino unwrapped the towel from his arm and tossed it to him.

John, meanwhile, got a bag of plain water from the vending machine.

"Whew~ Thanks, guys, I owe you."

Jilead had regained his senses.

He smeared his face with the towel, feeling its warmth, then soaked the fabric with ice water to casually wash up.

John took a sip of water and then asked.

"When was the last time you were lucid?"

"..."

Jilead covered with the towel.

John didn't pry further, just advised.

"There's no need to wreck yourself; life is precious. It's a shame to die high on the boxing ring, right?"

Gino listened, frowning and giving John an odd look.

Jilead chuckled bitterly and shook his head.

"After the Bolago incident, no one saw you anymore. Honestly, I wondered if you were dead. It's good to see you."

"I just got back, feels like I've been gone forever."

John leaned against the railing, gazing at the distant factory's red signal lights.

Jilead nodded in profound agreement.

The West District had become a situation governed by two 'Speakers'.

Mr. Vito returned to the public eye, and his accumulated prestige and connections continued to play an important role.

He reached an agreement with Jingke Heavy Industry, responsible for organizing various industries in the West District, not missing a single important occasion.

Of course, that's on the surface.

The "weapons" he secretly purchased remained a mystery, like a sword hanging over the Eastern People's heads.

The deeper he hid, the more wary people became.

Bone Shards still presided over the gang wars.

After the Bolago incident ended, he quickly retaliated, severely damaging several industries of the Owl Town gang, even crossing the border to conduct robberies, nearly cutting off contraband supplies in Sakura Cross Street.

The Black Gold Gang regained their honor.

His prestige soared during the war.

John sensed the problem and directly asked.

"Who are you aligning with now?"

"..."

Jilead took a deep breath, extended his arms, and pressed his body against the swaying iron chains with eyes closed.

Mr. Vito's return to the streets made the scene somewhat awkward.

Those loyal to him who survived the cleansing finally saw light, with most being compensated, including wealth and limited prosthetic bodies.

Jilead belonged to another kind.

They continued to remain in positions arranged by Bone Shards, exerting greater value, enjoying the rights and status they already gained.

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