Terra Tinkers Construct is fine.

The main form of these profits is "handling fees," most of which flow into the pocket of Boris, who claims to "grease palms" at all levels, without any other cadres or leaders; ordinary members barely have any gray income, and even that is often embezzled by Boris's confidants.

As for related forces... to them, these are just competitors vying for territory, low-level military and police officers who only collect money and never actually come to the underground area, and "associations" that operate under the guise of legitimate industries.

Unfortunately, no matter what, the big shots always end up as bargaining chips for seeking protection and permission from influential figures with public identities.

Fortunately, the Rust Gang in the underground area changes every few days. As long as the lower levels can deliver the profits, the higher-ups don't care about the changes in these strange and monstrous people.

"I don't really understand the value of Ursus gold coins."

After listening to their story, Milan pondered for a moment, then reached into the pocket of the armor (which wasn't actually there) and pulled out a handful of gold coins, which he then placed on his desk with a clatter.

There are thirteen people present now, two for each person.

“From today onwards, there will be no more steel pipes. From now on, the gang will be called ‘Canned Goods’… Pavel, you are the boss in name only.”

Pavel, who was quickly taking notes as instructed by Milan, nodded hastily: "Huh? Oh... what? Me?"

His expression suddenly became as red as a traffic light.

But Milan ignored him.

"Frank, you'll handle the channel arrangements and records. Smuggling, giving the organization a cut of the black market—this kind of work can continue."

“I have things to do, and I don’t care about the petty profits from gangs, so you don’t need to worry that I’m as stingy as Boris.”

"The new rules are simple: follow orders, make everything look like it's running normally, and you'll have food to eat and money to earn."

"If there are any gang conflicts or similar issues, you won't be needed. If force is required, I will take matters into my own hands."

His voice was calm, and he did not promise a huge reward, but the promise of "food and money without having to risk your life" was already quite valuable to these marginalized gang members who were living hand to mouth.

Especially since he didn't seem to intend to continue the killing spree, which was the most solid shackle for these people in the early stages—their expressions already spoke volumes; the initial framework and deterrence had been established, Milan nodded, and without him saying much, several Ursus workers immediately came forward with great tact and dragged the man on the ground, who had stopped groaning, away.

At his signal, and soon, under the organization of Pavel and "Frank who had attended high school," the remaining people lined up cautiously and began to re-register and receive their gold coins.

Milan's thoughts drifted into the distance.

He didn't intend to force himself to do anything beyond his capabilities: Chernobog would remain unchanged for the next two months, and countless eyes were watching the seemingly calm city; the Reunion Movement would infiltrate, the military and police were outnumbered, and the Third Army was standing idly by—these were things he couldn't change.

But the natural disaster will eventually strike, bringing devastating damage to the entire city and its people, and a disruptive impact on the existing power structure; if he wants to do anything, whether before or after, he will need manpower.

Unlike the Rust Gang, a bunch of hyenas terrified out of their wits, this group might be temporarily driven by money and fear, but they would never meet his hiring standards, much less entrust him with anything truly important—like picking through a garbage heap for cardboard boxes and plastic bottles, just picking out the barely usable, slightly cleaner pieces of trash.

What he needs is a spark, someone who has experienced the darkness of reality and harbors anger and resentment; perhaps those people also have good reason to hate... but they are fortunate that Milan and Kosicé are not the same kind of people.

For example...

“Pavel.”

"Yes, sir...?"

Pavel, who was distributing gold coins according to Frank's record, almost jumped up, nearly dropping the coins in his hand.

Where did the trafficked people, especially human resources, go?

Milan's words were simple and straightforward. Pavel swallowed hard and said without daring to hide anything, "Uh, sir, apart from special circumstances... that is the nearby mines and the illegal workshops in the city."

"An illegal workshop?"

Milan flipped through Boris's notebook—the word appeared quite frequently in the notebook, often associated with the word "loss rate".

—What is the attrition rate of "human resources"?

"It's, it's that thing..."

The member who had previously claimed to have come from the mines spoke in a low voice, his voice carrying a hint of fear—not the fear temporarily soothed by gold coins in Milan, but a fear that seemed intertwined with memories.

"There are many factories in the city, many that process various ores... and there are also factories that mine Originium."

“Those foremen are heartless. They’re unwilling to buy protective equipment according to standards, let alone spend money to upgrade the machines. Safety regulations are just for show… They can’t find qualified workers, and they think they’re too expensive, so…”

"Buy the consumables through channels like ours."

Milan closed half of her eyes.

It wasn't that he didn't understand, but the man seemed afraid he wouldn't, so he added, "It's just that people... sign those useless indentures, or they're simply tricked or kidnapped."

“Throw them into the workshop to do the dirtiest and most dangerous work, and dispose of them when they are worn out… It’s cheaper than machines and easier than hiring regular workers.”

Chapter 41 A New Beginning

Even the lowest-ranking members of the Rust Gang showed a mixture of disgust and fear when the black workshop was mentioned; the infected in the wasteland always regarded the mine as hell, but for these people who had once been a link in the tentacles of darkness...

It was a hell more suffocating than the straightforward exploitation in a mine. It occurred beneath the glamorous surface of civilization in the city, hidden in the roar of machines, silently grinding people to dust, leaving not even painful gasps or bone fragments behind.

No one might even know that "such a thing happened".

“I’ve kept the accounts.”

Frank added in a low voice, "According to the ledger... the profits from the transactions with the black market workshops aren't actually that high, but Boris said that such business is safe... and the people he's dealing with also prefer such projects."

"I wonder if it's related to some person above."

Milan remained silent.

He wasn't entirely unable to imagine what that scene would be like. Thanks to his upbringing in an information-saturated environment, the numbers and snippets of description in his notes could easily conjure up a concrete picture for him. Back when he was just a player, players often joked that "this land is so old and decaying that even a touch of capitalism would make it seem advanced and glorious."

...Let's put capitalism aside for now, but the bourgeoisie is no good either; capitalists come into the world dripping with blood and filth from head to toe, from every pore.

There is nothing new under the sun.

"Which black market workshop have you followed for transactions? I mean, which one had the most accurate intelligence?"

Milan's voice was calm, but the more perceptive members understood his implication. Pavel and a few others exchanged glances, and finally he nodded to Frank and said, "The place we deal with the most... is probably the iron foundry."

"That's a factory on the edge of the third industrial block. On the surface, it's a small factory that sorts and recycles waste parts, but in reality, it's one of the largest illegal workshops. In addition to material recycling, it also does preliminary sorting and crushing of Originium ore."

"In places like that, people who go in will contract Oripathy within half a month and become infected people with nowhere to escape."

Chernobog is a mining industrial city, and this so-called workshop has its own Originium throughput point and various material recycling projects.

Wow, this is no coincidence.

Milan finally opened his eyes. He looked at the group of trembling subordinates in front of him without showing any emotion: these guys were still useful for the time being. They could help him send messages, provide cover, and handle some trivial matters; at least until the real changes came, maintaining the shell of this gang was still valuable.

"Have you finished distributing them? If you have, please listen to what I have to say."

Looking at the group of Ursus men standing in a row against the wall with complicated expressions after the gold coins had been distributed in the office, Milan said, "Those of you who used to do equipment maintenance, just go back to your old jobs and keep things the same as before."

“Pick a few people to keep an eye on smuggling, illegal immigration, and black market commissions. Compile a map of the underground areas and make it clean. Frank, you keep an eye on it.”

"As for you... I know you're all confused right now, and some of you might even be up to no good. For example, I can't keep an eye on every single one of you forever, or I might leave and never want to come back."

"It's okay, I don't care; go back now, do what you need to do, and leave work on time... but you all need to think carefully about what decisions you're going to make and what consequences you can bear for those decisions."

"Everyone, you can leave now, but Pavel, you stay behind."

The Ursus people remained silent for a while, cautiously observing Milan's expression, fearing that this seemingly easy-to-bully devil might turn around and kill them all at any moment; after a long while, the others gradually slipped out of the office door, each tall and burly Ursus man looking as if he wanted to tiptoe and shrink back.

When only Pavel was left, the man subconsciously lowered his head, looking as if he dared not ask or speak, only trembling as he stared at the floor; Milan shook her head and said, "Leave the rest to them, take me with you."

"S-Sir."

Pavel stammered, "Go...go where?"

"Go up to the surface and into the city."

Milan gave him a strange look: "I don't know the way."

Milan did not choose the passage commonly used by the Rust Gang.

The power layer itself is of certain importance. The higher you go, the fewer channels there are that conform to "general understanding." Perhaps this was designed from the outset to supervise lower-level staff and their mobility.

What's more, besides their peers, there's also some kind of association above the Rust Gang that claims to be a legitimate profession.

You never know when you might be being monitored.

So he had Pavel find a remote location close to the ground, with a sturdy structure but no readily available access.

"S-Sir..."

Looking at Milan, who casually shoved the torch against the wall, Pavel's voice trembled slightly: "This place should have a solid support structure above it, no road, and if it causes widespread damage..."

This is impossible to explain—thinking about how Milan seems to be known for its destructive power, like a brick flying everywhere, he instinctively had a bad feeling.

This premonition reached its peak when Milan gestured and pulled out his weapon.

"!?"

A simple gray pickaxe appeared out of nowhere in Milan's hand. It had no metallic luster and seemed to be made of stone. Pavel tried to suppress his gasp and stared wide-eyed. Milan didn't say anything. He swung his arm and smashed the stone pickaxe directly into the hard concrete structure.

—Thump, thump, thump.

There was no loud noise, only a shattering sound that defied common sense: the concrete that the stone pick touched initially showed no damage, only two-dimensional cracks, like graffiti, appeared on the surface and continued to grow. Then, when the cracks expanded to a certain extent, they suddenly disappeared, turning into a small cube that disappeared into Milan's body.

Pavel felt shocked. If before it was only because of Milan's brutal and ruthless methods, now it was because of the dramatic impact this scene had on his worldview.

—What...what is this thing?

The Ursus man's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

He watched as Milan, like a mining machine, tilted upwards and dug in a surreal way, creating a mining tunnel that any Minecraft miner would be familiar with; not long after, fresh air and a faint light poured in, and a secret passage leading directly to the surface was born before his eyes.

Chapter 42 Building Materials

—The location was chosen quite well.

Milan was fairly satisfied with the location chosen by his subordinate: the place was indeed quite remote, and there was no machinery to be wary of, only a simple supporting layer of material that could be dug up with a stone pickaxe.

Terra's supernatural materials science created supporting materials that turned into blocks one by one as they were mined, then displayed garbled names in his inventory; he continued to ascend, leaving only a perfectly square passageway.

It didn't take long before they dug right down to the surface.

"hiss……"

He took a long breath.

Emerging from the surface, the fresh air, so different from the underground structure, immediately invigorated Milan—just as Pavel had said, this place was also a remote corner on the surface, resembling a pile of waste between the outer walls of two factories, surrounded by high walls and a lot of metal scrap, looking like a place rarely visited by anyone.

"My lord, this is the upper layer of the block... my lord?"

Still in shock, Pavel felt somewhat dazed even after climbing to the surface, but the sunlight and cold air quickly brought him back to his senses; he was just about to show off in front of Milan when he realized that Milan hadn't followed.

He turned around in confusion.

Milan was standing in front of the pile of scrap metal. As he swung his pickaxe, the pile of scrap metal, which had been there for who knows how long, was quickly dismantled and disappeared into his body.

Pavel: "..."

Will knowing too much become a reason for being eliminated...? I don't want that kind of thing!

The minor incident didn't take up much time.

After giving thanks for the iron provided by nature, he returned to the main road—Pavel was no stranger to this place. He identified the direction and quickly led Milan through a few turns into a side street near the main street.

As the voices gradually became clearer, and the guide stepped out from the street, Milan felt... as if in an instant, the hustle and bustle of the world rushed towards her.

"..."

The air, a mixture of various smells and sounds, is like a unique human atmosphere that blends complex information into one; unlike the barren life in the wilderness, and unlike the coldness of the underground area—the noisy ringing of vehicles, the shouts of vendors, and the conversations of people walking together intertwine to form the sounds of the city.

The voice of "civilization".

Milan let out a long breath.

The familiar warmth of civilization and daily life diluted the chill of the snowfield and the smell of engine oil from the underground world, as well as the heavy stench of blood on Milan; the icy anger that had once settled in his heart now seemed to ease slightly.

Although it's still different, it does feel a bit like "coming home".

—Getting back on track... Ha, that's really not easy.

What should have been a few hundred words in the original plan has now increased at least tenfold. Looking back on the initial plan, Milan still feels like she's in a different world: find a remote corner to live in temporarily, do odd jobs to familiarize herself with the terrain and roads, and then look for opportunities to do some small business to accumulate initial capital...

Okay, now we can skip many steps, which in a sense could be considered another form of achievement; so now that we've jumped straight to the initial accumulation, what's the plan?

Infiltrate, observe, gather resources, and wait for the right opportunity?

"..."

Pavel stood cautiously beside him, not daring to disturb him, only observing the new leader's expression out of the corner of his eye; he saw the change in Milan's young face, the incomprehensible, lofty sense of alienation he had felt underground gradually fading away, replaced by a quiet contemplation, yet it felt somewhat different from the contemplation he had witnessed underground.

It's like having a slightly more human-like temperature.

After a long while, Milan finally looked away and refocused his gaze.

Are there any building materials markets nearby?

His question was as direct as ever, and Pavel quickly snapped out of his daze and said, "Yes, sir, yes... Is there anything you need?"