Derek Cheng's Survival Super-Class is now in session. First thing out of his mouth, no sugar-coating: "Your gun sucks."
"Out here in the Death Wasteland, you can be short on a lot of things, but never power. Power gives you everything. As for your skills, you could run your own territory. My boss—Xiao Di, the toughest woman I know—says your moves are just as good as hers. That's impressive. But your gun? Total garbage."
He pulls out a spent shell: "Found this on the scene. Judging by it, your gun's got weak firepower, so the bullets are slow. Plus, the shape is way too primitive—loses speed quick and drops like a rock. That’s why your shots always hit low and off-target. Kills your damage output."
"Makes sense, makes sense." Jill Young smacks her right fist into her left palm. "No wonder it always feels off—so it really is the hardware’s fault."
"Next up, combat habits. Anyone who’s made it in the Death Wasteland, got to the city, and become a proper henchman—well, their instincts are sharp. When someone aims at them, they dodge. Small issue though, you figure it out after a couple fights. And if you get a decent gun, they won’t even have time to dodge."
"A good gun, huh..." As the saying goes, in Beijing you feel your rank is small, in Shanghai your wallet is light, but in this world, you realize your gun’s just trash. Jonathan was so proud of his so-called 'top-tier hardware'—now it looks like it belongs in the toy bin.
"Now let’s talk money." Derek Cheng moves to the next big topic: "In this wasteland, in this city, working a regular job is the worst, dead-end choice. Going gang beats going corporate any day."
"Worst choice?" Jill Young isn’t exactly a fan of the nine-to-five grind, but if everyone in the world thinks like this, it’s no wonder things are so wild. "At least a desk job isn’t dangerous, right? No dodging bullets every day. For regular folks, how is that the worst?"
Derek just laughs, that special kind of laugh that says, "Wow, you really have no clue," but somehow it’s not annoying at all. "Who says being a regular person’s safe? When the gangs are throwing down in the streets, no one’s protected. Laws, cops—they’re just tools for whoever’s got cash. They won’t actually help you. So anyone with real skills goes gang—better to hold the gun yourself than pray the other guy won’t shoot you."
"Hmm, I get it now." Jill Young starts to see how this world works. Basically, it’s chaos—lives are cheap, morals are cheaper, everything’s up for grabs except cold hard cash.
"So, if you want to go gang, you have to start as a henchman." Derek Cheng is about to keep lecturing, but Jill Young cuts him off.
"Hold up, I have zero interest in being anybody’s henchman. Pick another route."
"Oh? So you want to go solo?" Derek Cheng thinks it over. "Solo usually means starting with theft. Fast hands, sharp eyes, nerves of steel—you need all that. But Steelbullet City’s just a third-tier town, not much cash to snatch. Takes forever to build up your bankroll that way."
"Stealing, huh..." Jill Young thinks about the scrawny bean-sprout folks she’s seen around—can’t imagine squeezing much out of them. She shrugs and shakes her head. "Petty theft’s not my thing. I’m not about picking on the weak."
"Not about picking on the weak, huh..." Derek Cheng gives Jill Young an appreciative look. "Well said! I knew you weren’t that kind. In that case, let’s go big—rob a bank! In this city, the official banks are useless, but private banks? Now those have real cash. Heavily guarded, tough to hit, but the payoff is sweet if you pull it off."
"Rob a bank?" Jill Young perks up. "Never tried that before—sounds fun! Give me the details."
"Alright! In Steelbullet City, there are three prime targets..." Derek Cheng starts sketching out the plan on the ground, explaining everything from casing the joint to the nitty-gritty of pulling off a heist. Jill Young listens, chin in hand, nodding like she’s unlocking the secrets of the universe. The two of them spend half an hour, faces aglow, plotting all sorts of anti-social, anti-law shenanigans. By the end, Jill’s eyes are practically on fire, itching for action.
Just then, a bell rings. Jill Young looks up and sees a priest walk in through the side door of the chapel. At least, he looks like a priest—linen robe, incense burner in one hand, bell in the other. He’s mumbling prayers and shaking the bell, all solemn and holy. But this isn’t a real chapel, it’s the local gang sign-up spot!
"So pious he’s about to sprout a halo... and that aura!" Jill Young squints and shouts, "I knew it—you're the Soul of the West, right?"
"I am not the Soul of the West," the priest says, voice calm and soothing enough to put you at ease. He walks up to the angel statue, sets down the incense and bell on the pedestal, then grabs his hood and whips it back with a cowboy-style "Yeehaw!" "I am the 'Looks-So-Pious-But-Actually-Perverted Priest Who Peeks Up the Goddess’s Skirt Every Day!'"
Of course, it’s that guy! Handsome face, but right now he’s got that punchable, sleazy grin, cackling like a creep. He bends and wiggles, hopping around to catch every possible angle under the goddess statue’s skirt.
"You’re the Gunfire Angels’ number two, right?" Jill Young shoots Derek Cheng a look, points at the sleazy priest, and groans, "What’s his deal? He’s all over the place—total nutcase?"
(This chapter isn’t over yet~.~ Click next page for more wild action!)
"Him? We call him Amoeba. Used to be a movie star. Don’t let his act fool you—he was big-time, once. But he got lost in his own roles and never came back. Now he’s like this." Derek Cheng smiles, all forgiving, like a friendly homeroom teacher. "Most of the time he’s a hopeless idiot, but sometimes he’s actually pretty reliable."
"Movie star?" Jill Young is surprised—not by Amoeba’s past, but by something else: "There’s a film industry out here in the wasteland? People are so broke they can barely live—who’s watching movies?"
"Ha! Not every place is as poor as this. The wasteland’s got huge gaps between rich and poor—not all barren. Some spots are straight-up paradise."
"Paradise? So this guy went full idiot from being a celebrity in paradise?"
"Yep."
"So where’s this weird paradise?"
"That place…" Derek Cheng sighs, nostalgic. "Steel Testicle City. Death Wasteland’s top metropolis, the heart of the world—Steel Testicle City."
"Hmm…" Jill Young thinks it over, then snaps her fingers and declares, "That’s it! My next big adventure—go gang, become the Queen!"
Suddenly, the chapel’s main door bursts open and a group storms in, led by none other than Xiao Di. "Ohohoh, woman, I’ve been looking for you for three whole hours—never thought you’d be hiding here. So, you come to my turf, ready to bow down to me?" (Folks, I’m finally back! Barely slept these past days, totally wiped out, but hard work pays off—I won first prize! Taking a break today, but tomorrow and the day after, three chapters each, okay?)