Above the Blood Moon

Ultimately, Jokli did not confront and question Att directly.

As an outsider to this place, Jockley still planned to learn more about the specific situation before making a decision. Whether it was the task that At wanted to recruit him for, or anything else, he needed to make a decision before he could make a judgment.

This is the most important lesson Qiao Keli has learned from years of working as a corporate slave: always have a backup plan before doing anything.

After sitting in his own room for ten minutes, listening to Big Yellow tell him some information about the place, he noticed a mirror in the corner.

The person in the mirror was wearing a repaired white bodysuit, with medium-length hair, a somewhat delicate face, and black hair; he appeared to be in his early twenties.

Its head is encased in a silver-gray metal exoskeleton, with a blue visual sensor strip on its forehead that glows faintly, making it look like a supporting character who just stepped out of a cheap science fiction movie.

This was definitely not Lu Yao's face, which made Qiao Keli even more certain that he must have traveled through time.

He turned to look at the big yellow head that was charging in the corner.

"I need a plan."

These words were spoken to himself and to Big Yellow, whose indicator light flashed once.

"The first priority is, of course, to figure out the rules here, then make money, make that damn Covenant currency, and then find clues to get home."

A sound came from Big Yellow's speaker.

"Master, you forgot something."

"What?"

"My body," Big Yellow said, sounding a little aggrieved.

"Without a body, I only have a head, which can't do much. At most, it can be a smart helmet, but a partially functional one at that. ლ(・´ｪ`・ლ)"

Jockley looked at the lonely head.

"I understand, Big Yellow. I'll try to find a way to give you a body."

After saying this, he touched the back of his neck, where it felt empty.

Dahuang had just told him that one of the essential things in this world is the neural access system.

This thing is like a combination of a mobile phone, ID card, bank card and everything else. Without it, you often can't even buy a bottle of water, because most transactions are transferred directly through a neural interface.

As a 24-year-old purebred human, Chokri naturally doesn't have a chip in his brain or a connector on his body.

"After we get rid of Dahuang, let's see if we can find a job here first, at least to settle down."

Jockley didn't think for long before going back downstairs to push open the tavern door.

However, the moment he actually pushed open the door, Jockley's lips twitched twice. He had mentally prepared himself, but judging from the scene before him, he hadn't done enough.

In his view, the buildings on both sides of the bar were crookedly squeezed together.

On the left is a three-story building converted from half of a transport ship's hull, with dozens of windows densely packed into the hull.

The right side was even more outrageous; it was a row of buildings made up of stacked abandoned living quarters, each of which had been modified to varying degrees, and the gaps between the quarters were filled with all sorts of miscellaneous items, which made the smell in the air so complicated that it was nauseating.

Following the gaze, Jockley carefully walked to the side of the street. Looking at the flowing crowd in front of him, he walked forward along the street, trying to stay close to the wall and avoid those who looked strange.

This is the ruins town of the Forgotten City, which is essentially the residential area of ​​the Forgotten City. It has a total population of nearly 1.7 million and is divided into thirteen districts. The tavern run by Doctor Art is located in the eleventh district.

Big Yellow had warned Jockley beforehand that some people in this place might be strange, but Jockley didn't expect that everyone in this place would look so odd.

A woman carrying a huge bundle of scrap metal walked towards us. She was over two meters tall because her legs had been replaced with a reverse-joint mechanical structure, and each step she took covered nearly a meter.

The bundle of scrap metal was tied to her back with rusty iron chains, and it was stuffed with various metal parts, rattling with each step she took.

As she passed by Jockley, he couldn't help but turn and glance at her.

The woman has four eyes: two in their normal positions and two on either side of her temples. They are all mechanical prosthetic eyes with red pupils.

Jockley lowered his head and continued walking, trying to see if there were any places with job postings.

Shops began to appear on both sides of the street.

The first one was a clinic converted from an abandoned medical pod, with the words scribbled on the side of the pod.

[Prosthetic body installation, on-site surgery, no anesthesia required, done in five minutes]

The hatch was open, and you could see an operating table stained with blood inside.

A person was lying on the table, and the doctor was using a chainsaw to cut the person's left arm. The chainsaw was spinning at high speed, and the sound of it cutting through metal and bone was so piercing that it made one's teeth ache.

The patient appeared to be unanesthetized; he opened his mouth and let out a silent scream, his body convulsing violently, but he was firmly strapped to the operating table with several belts.

The second stall was selling nutritional paste. The stall owner was an old man who only had his upper body left; his lower body was attached to the chassis of a rusty wheelchair.

In front of the old man were dozens of tubes of gray, viscous ointment, with labels that read:

[Standard formula, 0.1 Covenant Coins/tube, buy 10 get 1 free, plus a free hallucinogenic additive.]

The third one...

Jockley stopped in his tracks, feeling as if his eyes had been violated.

It was a makeshift shed made of waterproof cloth, and inside were several iron cages holding people, or perhaps they could no longer be called human.

They all had some degree of deformity; some had arms twisted at strange angles, some had blood constantly flowing from their eyes, and some were muttering to themselves in incomprehensible words.

A handwritten sign hung outside the shed.

Experimental subjects will be recovered and priced according to their integrity, with priority given to those with brains.

Jockley quickened his pace; the sheer surreal nature of this place made this 21st-century working-class man from Earth feel extremely uneasy.

He walked down the street, where the walls were covered with various projected images, mostly flashing pornographic content or violent propaganda videos, with a few job postings occasionally, but the requirements were all outrageous.

"Miners are being recruited. They must have their own powered exoskeleton and be able to withstand the pressure of being 3,000 meters underground."

"Hiring thugs. Must have a combat prosthetic body or a level one or higher superpower chip. Those with killing experience will be given priority."

Jockley didn't meet any of the criteria, and just when he was almost in despair, a commotion arose ahead.

He looked up and saw a group of people forming a circle about thirty meters away. They were shouting excitedly, and above the crowd, several people were standing on high places with camera drones on their shoulders, the drones pointing at the center of the crowd and broadcasting live.

"Hey guys! Live broadcast, a life-or-death duel, only ten seconds left to place your bets!"

A livestreamer standing atop a shipping container yelled into a microphone; his voice, amplified by a loudspeaker, drowned out all the noise.

"The one on the left is One-Eyed Jack! Seven wins and three losses, a master of close combat! The one on the right is a new face, Ironjaw, who supposedly worked as a mercenary in the Olympus Ring! The odds are already at 1:1.8! Still no brothers? Any more? The betting's closing soon!!!"

Another streamer got even more excited; he jumped up and almost fell off his companion's shoulder.

"I unlocked the multi-angle camera with a gift, thanks to my #11 brother for the big rocket! I'll send you the private link later! Love you!"

The crowd erupted in even louder noise. Jockley moved closer and, through the gaps in the crowd, he could see what was happening inside.

This is a circular open space about five meters in diameter, surrounded by a boundary marked by discarded tires, with two people standing in the center of the open space.

The one standing on the left is a tall man with a mechanical prosthetic eye in his left eye and his right arm, starting from the shoulder, is entirely made of metal. He is holding a laser sword in his hand.

The one on the right is short and stout, with a chin that has been modified into a metal structure, revealing sharp metal teeth when he opens his mouth. He holds a short knife in each hand, the blades gleaming coldly.

The two stood three meters apart, staring at each other, while the surrounding crowd roared.

"Attack! What are you waiting for!"

"Jack! Kill him, I've bet you three Covenant Credits!"

"Iron Jaw! Don't be a coward, chop off his head!"

Jockley stood on the outskirts of the crowd. He saw someone raise their hand, and the neural interface on their wrist glowed, as if they were operating some unseen interface, probably placing a bet.

The streamers were even more excited, flying their drones lower, almost touching the duelists' faces.

At the edge of the open space stood a thin man wearing an eye patch, holding a tablet that displayed real-time odds and betting amounts.

Then, the duel began.

There was no countdown, no signal, and suddenly the one-eyed Jack on the left activated his mechanical leg.

He charged at Ironjaw, laser sword raised above his head. Ironjaw reacted quickly, crossing his twin blades in preparation to block.

But just when the two were only a meter apart, Jack pressed a button on the hilt of his sword.

A gun muzzle was visible at the bottom of the sword hilt, and a bullet shot out from the muzzle, hitting Iron Jaws squarely in the forehead.

puff.

The sound was so faint that the movement of the iron jaws froze.

He raised his hand to touch his forehead, his fingers touching a warm little hole from which blood mixed with brain matter flowed. Before he could say anything, his body collapsed heavily to the ground.

He died cleanly and decisively.

The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted into an even louder roar.

"Damn! Cheating!"

"This is supposed to be a laser sword? This is a gun!"

"Give me my money back! I bet my iron jaws on this!"

"Screw your withdrawal! The rules don't say guns are forbidden! Jack wins!"

"I'm rich! I'm rich! I can get two injections tonight!"

Jack stood there, panting heavily. He walked to Ironjaw's corpse, squatted down, and began to loot it. His movements were as practiced as if he were dismantling a machine, and every time he removed a part, the surrounding crowd cheered.

On the other side, several people who had been waiting impatiently rushed into the open space, carrying various tools and began to dismantle the remaining parts of the corpse.

One man used a cutting saw to remove the left leg, while another man pried open the chest cavity and removed the heart and lungs. The organs were still steaming, and he casually threw them into an insulated box.

The remaining person began peeling off the skin.

He used a sharp scalpel to cut from the forehead, the blade slicing along the hairline and then downwards, peeling off the skin completely, like taking off a tight-fitting garment.

The dissected body turned into a bright red muscle tissue, and even white bones and blood vessels could be seen.

No one thought anything was wrong throughout the whole process. Some onlookers were laughing, some were discussing the betting, and some had already turned around and left to find the next source of amusement.

A woman who appeared to have placed a large bet stood at the edge of the crowd, her face pale.

She stared at the dismembered body for a few seconds, then pulled a syringe from her pocket containing some kind of murky liquid.

She rolled up her sleeves, revealing her arm covered in needle marks, found a usable vein, inserted the needle, pushed the plunger, and the liquid was injected.

The woman's eyes widened instantly, her pupils dilated, and the corners of her mouth involuntarily turned up into a mesmerizing smile. Then she pulled out a gun and pressed the muzzle against her temple.

Pull the trigger.

boom.

The woman died too.

Several tattooed thugs who had been waiting nearby immediately rushed over.

They quickly carried the woman's body away and disappeared. A few minutes later, the street returned to its previous chaos, as if nothing had happened.

Jockley stood there, feeling something churning in his stomach.

"This is dueling culture, a feature of Forgotten City. The winner takes all the valuables from the loser, including body parts. Spectators place bets, and the streamers make money from viewership."

"A complete industry chain, Master, how about we open a betting platform too?"

Big Yellow's voice came from above, but Jockley ignored him. He forced himself to suppress the urge to vomit and climbed to a high place to look around.

In the distance, there was a cluster of seemingly bustling reinforced concrete buildings, illuminated by various fluorescent lights and spotlights. Various aircraft flew around, and even what looked like interstellar spaceships slowly descended from the sky, creating the feeling of a cyber city that Jockley had imagined.

However, less than two kilometers away lies this vast area, which resembles a slum.

Jockley felt nothing but utter absurdity and irony.

What kind of weird place is this?