The person wore a silver chain around the neck.

A very beautiful ornament, heavy and textured. According to the local features of the necklace, an online search in news channels revealed similar styles.

[Item: Silver-edged Copper Cross]

[Sale Link: ...]

[Data collection detected, default/refusal, local connection anomaly, attempting reconnection...]

John withdrew his gaze.

The prosthetic body on him was mostly isolated from networking by Black Light, with strict prevention of uploads and downloads to the company cloud server.

But occasionally, like now:

John wanted to actively activate the function of a prosthetic body to gather some information.

Guests at the funeral home avoided the pair and headed towards the reception desk.

In John's vision, the human mosaics remained, high-resolution local images were cut and magnified, revealing the other's ring.

The ring was likewise heavy, intricate in design.

On it was carved the emblem of a church.

John had already guessed the identity of the guest.

He was a priest.

Quite rare.

The entire city had only a few churches.

Faith appeared fragile under the neon lights, the Super Sensing Chip became the main spiritual food, souls were numbed by more stimulating things, wandering in the cyber psychosis.

John felt a sense of familiarity.

He closed his eyes, slightly recalling, suddenly remembered when driving for Tiebang Logistics, the driver who had the best relationship in the team seemed to be a believer too...

Memories surged like bubbles in wine.

John's mind was running wild, but his face showed no expression, his hands hanging dazedly on his knees.

Gino also folded his arms, closing his eyes to rest.

A hacker.

A mercenary.

It was quite normal for them to appear in a district funeral home, and they looked exhausted, eyes dull, likely having undergone a difficult task and lost a good teammate, blending into the breathing background of the city's subway.

The priest withdrew his observing gaze.

He tried to stay away from these two fringe walkers, but the room was small, making his actions appear intentional, with hardly any distance created. After hesitating for a while, he finally decided to press the call button behind the bar.

It wasn't the priest's first time at the funeral home.

Bzz—

The electric bell rang loudly, explosively.

The entire funeral home seemed like it had a short circuit.

A cheap broadcast on the wall conveyed the voice of Sugar Bean Man.

"Welcome to Extreme Netherworld Destination!"

"It's me."

"Ah, my dear priest..."

"Stop, there are other people here!"

"Alright, I have a job on hand. What you want is under the counter. The price, well, still the same as before. Trust me, these things will help those who deserve happiness."

"Are they safe?"

"Look at you, what do you think this place is..."

"I don't intend to demand anything, just reminding you they're all poor people, unable to afford the treatment for prosthetic body pollution, so I hope they're as clean as possible!"

"Death is the purest thing."

"Ahh..."

The priest sighed.

He went under the counter and pulled out a large box with wheels, all the while keeping an eye on John and Gino, then hurriedly, masked, left the funeral home quickly.

The room was small.

Despite lowering his volume and maintaining distance, the priest's conversation was heard almost entirely by Gino, even without plugin amplification.

The matter wasn't complex.

The priest used the Ghoul channel to get illegal prosthetic bodies to help the poor believers in the church.

From both moral and legal perspectives, it was very dangerous.

John and Gino remained still, as if asleep leaning against each other.

About half an hour passed.

The rusty door was pushed open again, even more roughly this time, with the door panel whistling and producing a "bang," the already patchy wall crumbling, soaked by the seepage brought in.

Thump, thump.

Two burly men stepped over the seepage, placing down two boxes, one large and one small, beside their heavy boots.

Ghouls.

Both of them.

With a slight lift of his gaze, John judged the other's profession.

It was unmistakable, the traits were too obvious.

They had surgical scars all over, signs of excessive modification emphasized under subcutaneous tubes, particularly the face, with the entire nose bone removed and replaced with red dot prosthetic eyes, resembling shattered mechanical intelligence.

Wheww— wheww—

The Ghouls intermittently inhaled, like allergic patients, air rushing into facial mechanical structures with a strange whistling sound.

They were typical addicts.

Of course.

Ghouls and Rift Party identities weren't contradictory, all maniacal organ fiends, forbidden drugs streaming through their veins, their breath carrying the scent of metal slow-release fluid.

The two glanced at John and Gino without care, continuing to move things into the room.

As they bent over, the weapons at their waists were revealed.

Each carried two guns.

Rongju kinetic short barrel, heavily modified, with varied accessories, likely adjusted their own ammunition caliber and firing amplifier.

John made judgements in his mind, focusing downward.

From the moment they entered the room, the originally settled air added new odors again.

A mixture of mold, machine oil, biological tissues, and a peculiar chemical agent hit directly.

The items they brought were illegal as well.

If guessed right, the boxes were filled with prosthetic bodies and organs pulled from bodies.

Eden City's night roads were perilous.

Orders for clubbing and paid kidnappings ran rampant, dark alleys hiding more dangers.

Ordinary people might just become black market commodities, or even more miserable— tortured by crippling adversities, recorded with special equipment, made into bloody Super Sensing Chips for twisted customers.

Thump thump thump.

The Ghoul's bell-ringing actions were much more violent than the priest's.

"Fuck, where the hell are you!"

"I'm busy, veins, break something and you'll have to pay. If you're not busy, go verify the inventory once, ensure no item is missing from the list."

"Guaranteed no problems... Wait, has your mosaic brain short-circuited? The price is wrong!"

"It's just that amount; you still owe me money, you know."

"So stingy, I thought we might have reconciled this time, business at Sakura Cross Street is booming now, we might run into each other daily. I'll send all good stuff to you first..."

"I'm not begging you."

"Yes yes yes, we're begging you."

The Ghoul's tone softened unexpectedly, shadows cast by the red bulb on his face-plate made it look sinister.

"Who makes your goods the best! Fuck, the supply cut made my veins itch, couldn't hold on anymore, hurriedly accepted your order and gathered things, process went smoothly, caught a dumbass in East District with the specified model..."

"I'm busy, no time to hear your crap."

"Then just give me the drug!"

"Just two bottles, want more, wait till your other debts are paid off before we talk."

Pfft—

The ceiling valve made a sound as it opened.

Gurgle, clang.

Two modified respirators with no labels were "spat" out from the pipe.

The Ghouls fell quiet immediately.

The two grabbed and pressed them to their faces, triggering even more intense whistling sounds.

"Phew—"

Pale purple gas seeped from the cracks in their faces, like a smoking processor, seeming about to burst into flames at any moment.

"Truly fucking awesome!"

The two Ghouls left spiritedly.

Bang.

The metal door closed.

Gino suddenly sat upright, grasping John's hand.

"I've been scanned."

"..."

John, who had been lounging for ages, didn't speak.

His body stayed still, prosthetic eyes refocusing, slightly moving, looking at the just closed door.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.