The morning sun barely pierced Neo-Shanghai's smog, a faint yellow haze filtering through the drizzle as Jun Xi stood on Orion Tower's 15th floor, his tactical jacket swapped back for the faded black hoodie—war demanded roots today. The city sprawled below—slums a rusting sprawl south, Midtown's neon a jagged hum, the Northern Towers a cold glint of steel and secrets. 172,044,475 Union Coins. The Money Makes Money System ticked up 8,602,223 UN overnight, a steady thrum in his skull that synced with the grid's roar—100 servers glowed, their quantum hub a deep blue pulse against the concrete, the broken window from NexCorp's drone now patched with a steel sheet. Sixteen days ago, he'd been ash—1,500 UN, a burned-out shack, parents' screams his only echo. Now, XiTech's fire had the slums fighting, Jade Vipers bled for him, and Sofia Valtieri's escalation loomed—war was here. His dark eyes glinted, calculative, calm—a slum kid's edge honed to a blade.
Lina leaned on a server rack, her jumpsuit smudged with grease, a holo-pad in hand—her voice cut through the hum, sharp and steady. "Grid's locked—100 servers, X9s tight, hub's gold. MarketPulse's at 14,000—140 mil UN banked since yesterday. You're at 180 mil now, Jun Xi—slum's yours." Her dark hair hung loose, sweat streaking her neck, and Jun Xi felt that pull—her pulse, her fire, the way she'd kissed him raw after the fight. Tara sprawled nearby, boots kicked up, her holo-pad flickering—Sofia's escalation glowed: Northern Towers, ops team, bigger strike, tomorrow. "180 mil's a war cry," Tara rasped, silver stud glinting as she chewed a mint strip. "Sofia's pissed—ops team's doubling. Northern Towers want you down—tomorrow's big."
Kai hauled a crate of server spares, wiry frame flexing, his buzzed hair damp—his grunt was rough. "180 mil? Slum king's insane—Jia's tweak's a beast." Jia sat cross-legged, lanky and 19, her comp sci holo-pad pulsing—her voice cracked, eager. "Predictive's humming—5% bump, 5 mil more. 185 mil now—nuts!" Funds ticked up—185,646,698 UN—interest and sales a relentless surge. Jun Xi smirked, flirty mask slipping on. "Nuts is my game—185 mil's a roar. Jia, website's buzzing—push the feed. Lina, grid's yours—lock it down. Tara, Sofia's team—dig deeper. Kai—Third Lane, scout."
Jia's fingers flew—her holo-pad glowed, XiTech.com's feed streaming live: "Slum King Jun Xi—185 mil UN, 16 days. MarketPulse: Your Edge, Our Code." Slum posts flooded in—"Jun Xi's our king—185 mil!""NexCorp ran—we fight!"—defiance surged: "Slum king's ours—Vipers bleed!""XiTech's real—slum's alive!" Funds hit 188 mil UN—MarketPulse soared to 14,500 users, 145 mil UN banked. The system chimed: "Funds: 188,290,221 UN. Interest: 9,414,511 UN daily. Mission: Secure Slum Influence—Reward: 15 mil UN, Street Network Knowledge. Progress: 60%."
Lina's holo-pad pinged with slum chatter—her laugh was raw, fierce. "They're all in—Vipers posted, 'Slum king's war—NexCorp burns.' Techies are arming—slum's your blade, Jun Xi. 188 mil—16 days." She stepped close, grease-slick hand brushing his—her warmth sank in, steadying him. "Sofia's strike—tomorrow's big. We're ready." His gut flickered—defiance was a spark, NexCorp a storm. He grinned, flirty edge sharp. "Ready's us—188 mil's louder. Slum's mine, NexCorp'll bleed."
Tara's pad beeped—Sofia's escalation sharpened: Northern Towers, ops team, 10 agents, drones, tomorrow noon. "Tomorrow's war—10 agents, four drones. Sofia's orders—Northern Towers want you crushed." Jun Xi nodded, 100x learning spinning—agent moves, slum layout, NexCorp's strings. "Crush me? Slum's my blade—they'll break." Tara grinned, sly. "Blade's right—Vipers posted more. Digging their comms—NexCorp's tied. Old deal, pre-XiTech—Vipers took cash to watch the slums. Now they're yours—NexCorp's pissed."
Jun Xi slipped out, hoodie up, drizzle cold on his neck—Third Lane buzzed, wet concrete stinging his boots, plasma scars black on the walls from yesterday's fight. Kids darted past, holo-balls flickering—vendors shouted over sizzling woks: "Slum king's 188 mil—NexCorp's scared!" He met the scarred Viper leader in an alley, ink gleaming on his neck, blood crusted on his cheek—his growl was low, fierce. "Slum king—NexCorp's deal's old. Took their UN to watch—now we bleed for you. 188 mil's loud—slum's yours." Jun Xi smirked, flirty edge sharp—Data Analysis Skill spun: Viper moves, NexCorp's leash. "Slum's ours—188 mil's louder. NexCorp's tie—cut it. You're my blade."
The leader grinned, knife glinting—his voice was a rasp. "Cut's done—Vipers are yours. NexCorp's coming—tomorrow, we fight." Jun Xi nodded, Street Network Knowledge humming—slum alleys, Viper haunts, NexCorp's blind spots. "Fight's ours—slum king doesn't bow." Word spread—slum posts surged: "Vipers cut NexCorp—slum king's war!""188 mil—slum's blade!"
Back at Orion, the grid roared—100 servers glowed, hub a deep thrum, funds hitting 190 mil UN with MarketPulse's surge—15,000 users, 150 mil UN banked. Lina met him at the door, grease-slick hands on his hoodie—her voice was low, fierce. "190 mil—slum's your blade, Jun Xi. Vipers cut NexCorp—techies armed, kids chanting. You're their king." She pulled him close, her warmth burning, steady—her lips brushed his, raw, alive. "Pulse's beating—slum's yours." He grinned, hand in her hair—wet, warm. "Slum's ours—190 mil's a roar. NexCorp's bleeding."
Tara banged in, holo-pad glowing—Sofia's team prepped: Midtown to slums, 10 agents, four drones, tomorrow noon. "Vipers cut—Sofia's pissed. 190 mil's a war drum—Northern Towers are striking. Noon tomorrow, hard." Kai followed, wiping sweat—his grunt was sharp. "190 mil—nuts. Slum's fighting—Vipers bled—Jia's tweak's gold, though." Jia trailed, holo-pad pulsing—her voice cracked. "15,500 users—155 mil banked. 192 mil now—nuts!" Funds hit 192,933,744 UN—interest rolled, slum defiance swelled.
Jun Xi stood by the window, drizzle misting his face—Midtown pulsed, slums roared below. The system chimed: "Funds: 192,933,744 UN. Interest: 9,646,687 UN daily. Mission Progress: 70%—Secure Slum Influence." His smirk sharpened—192 mil UN, 16 days—slum king wasn't a whisper; it was a storm shaking Neo-Shanghai. Lina leaned on him, Tara grinned wild, Kai and Jia buzzed—crew tight, a spark alive. Vipers cut, Sofia's team loomed, but the slum's roar turned fierce—XiTech's fire burned, and he'd burn through anything.