Above the Blood Moon

When the red moon rose again, Jockley opened his eyes. He had stayed up late watching the stars the night before, and as he sat up, his nervous system made a slight mechanical sound as he moved.

[Physiological status: Recovering, energy reserves: 37%, nutritional supplementation recommended.]

This line of text popped up on the blue visual panel.

Jockley ignored him and raised his left hand to tap the old external neural network hanging on his head. The circular projection generator heated up slightly, and as he extended his index finger and tapped in the air, the system began to activate.

A pale blue screen unfolded before my eyes, first showing my account balance: 7.9 Covenant Credits, then the time: Deep Space Graveyard Standard Time, 8:17 AM.

The crimson moon had just climbed a quarter of its way up the horizon, and its dark red light shone through the room’s only window.

Chokley then opened the shopping interface and searched for clothing. This was something he had thought about last night; he couldn't keep wearing the white bodysuit he had brought out of the freezer.

The results list pops up, with prices arranged from low to high.

The cheapest item is a gray long-sleeved top and black jeans set, priced at 0.2 Star Alliance Credits. The description only says: Second-hand, disinfected, guaranteed free of infectious germs.

Below is a black trench coat, priced at 0.1 Star Alliance Coins, with a more concise description: waterproof, with some damage.

Jockley hesitated for about three seconds, then clicked to buy and confirmed the payment.

The account balance changed from 7.9 to 7.6.

He then searched for drinking water, and the cheapest option was a basic purified water packaged in a simple plastic bag, 500 ml, priced at 0.05 Star Alliance Credits.

The description states that it meets the minimum hygiene standards of the Star Alliance and recommends boiling it before drinking.

Chokley bought three bags, and his balance instantly became 7.45.

After placing the order, Choklee leaned back against the wall, waiting for delivery.

Ten minutes later, the hum of a propeller came from outside the window. A small drone hovered at the window, and a robotic arm shoved a package inside. The package was made of gray waterproof cloth and tied with thick hemp rope.

Jockley opened the package; inside was the outfit and the trench coat.

The trench coat was black and made of thick fabric, but there was a fist-sized hole in the center of the back.

There was a dark brown stain around the hole, which had dried completely and felt hard to the touch. You could smell a faint rusty odor if you got close.

That is blood.

Jockley stared at the stain for a few seconds, then he laughed.

"Yesterday I felt uncomfortable, but today I'm used to it. Human adaptability is terrifying."

He turned his trench coat inside out; the inside pockets were large, one on each side, enough to hold quite a lot of things.

So he took off his white bodysuit, which was so dirty that its original color was no longer visible, and put on a gray shirt and jeans.

The pants were a bit long, so Chokley rolled up the cuffs twice and then put on his trench coat.

The trench coat fit him perfectly, as if it were tailor-made. Jockley stood in front of the broken mirror in the corner of the room, looking at himself in the mirror.

"Today is a new day, Lu Yao, oh no, Qiao Keli, you must live well and find your way home."

After saying that, he turned and walked to the corner, where Big Yellow's head was still plugged into the charging cable.

The indicator light was a steady green. Jockley reached out, unplugged the charging cable, and picked up the head. The head's visual sensor band flashed once.

"Good morning, Master. (・ω<)"

"Good morning," Jockley said, raising his head to eye level. "I'm going to see that doctor today to discuss the mission he mentioned."

"I know, I heard it. The doctor said the payment would be enough to pay off your debts, if you're lucky enough to survive."

Jockley nodded, then pressed his head against the back of his head. The metal exoskeleton automatically deployed and clicked, locking in place.

The vision sensor strip lit up again, and a blue circular interface unfolded in front of Chokley.

[System connection complete, Master. It's a beautiful day today~ even though we're penniless and drowning in debt. (◔⊖◔)つ]

Ignoring Da Huang's witty remark, Jockley picked up the bag of basic purified water, tore open a corner of the packaging, and took a swig.

The water was cool and had a faint chemical smell, but it was definitely clean water. He drank it all in one gulp; he was so thirsty.

"Let's go. Actually, we don't have any choice at all, do we, Da Huang? I can't do those jobs that I met yesterday."

Jockley then pushed open the door and went down the stairs.

It was morning in Forgotten City, but the tavern was still quite crowded, mostly with hangovers sleeping on the tables or sprawled in the corners. Jockley stood at the top of the stairs and surveyed the scene.

He saw the three people again.

Doctor Art stood behind the bar, wiping glasses. He was wearing a dark blue shirt today. Hip-hop kid Daikiri sat on a high stool in front of the bar, his fluorescent blue hair particularly eye-catching in the dim light.

He was taking a swig from a metal glass, the silver-gray mechanical arm on his shoulder casually draped over the edge of the bar.

The priest in black robes stood in the shadows of a corner of the tavern, his entire body shrouded in a long black robe, holding a glass of clear liquid in his hand.

Besides them, there were about a dozen other guests in the tavern, most of whom were in a semi-conscious state. Only two people were still relatively conscious, and they were playing an incomprehensible card game on a projector while lying on the table.

Jockley walked down the stairs, his footsteps making a slight creaking sound on the wooden steps.

At looked up and saw him.

"Hey, you're here," Art said with a smile, putting down his wine glass. "You're pretty punctual."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a loud banging came from the tavern door.

bang bang bang-

The force was so great that the door panel vibrated and hummed.

"Open the door! I want a drink!"

A rough, hoarse voice roared from outside.

Art frowned, walked around the bar, went to the door, and unlatched it.

The door had barely opened a crack when two drunken men squeezed in.

They reeked of cheap alcohol, their faces were covered in grease, their eyes were bloodshot, and they walked unsteadily.

"Wine...give me some wine..." one of them reached out to grab the wine bottle on the bar.

Art's smile remained unchanged, but he quickly reached out his right hand and grabbed the drunkard's collar. Several tiny metal probes suddenly popped out from his knuckles and pierced the drunkard's neck skin.

The drunkard froze, his eyes widened, and then he slumped to the ground, limp and lifeless.

Before the other drunkard could react, Art had already kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying out the door. Then he bent down, grabbed the unconscious drunkard on the ground, and threw him out like trash.

boom.

The door closed and locked in less than five seconds.

The tavern fell silent for a moment, then the two people who had been playing a card game lowered their heads, pretending they hadn't seen anything, and continued playing.

Art clapped his hands, walked back to the bar, and his smile softened again.

"Alright, it's quiet now."

He said that, then took a clean glass from under the bar, poured a clear liquid into it, and pushed it in front of Jockley.

"Want some water? Pure water, no additives."

Jockley glanced at the glass of water, then looked up at At.

"Thank you," he said, taking the cup but not drinking it immediately.

Art didn't mind. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the edge of the bar, watching Jockley.

"Now that everyone's here, let's start by introducing ourselves. After all, we might be working on a mission together, so we need to know each other's names."

He paused, then raised his finger and pointed to himself.

"My name is Art, the owner of this tavern, and part-time doctor. Of course, the title of doctor is self-proclaimed; I don't have any formal licenses. However, I'm quite good at treating external injuries. In addition, I also do some middleman business, taking on tasks, finding people, and then taking a cut. That's it."

After he finished speaking, he looked at the priest.