Chapter Six: The Broker

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Unlike the usual scenes Mo Wen often encountered in games—business talks held in bars—the broker entertained them in his office.

On the 28th floor of the Outer Ring Central Tower, sunlight streamed gently through the glass, softly illuminating the warm and tidy room, lending the smiling broker an inexplicable aura of divinity.

He was a tall, slender man who appeared calm and unhurried. Had Mo Wen not already known him as a middleman, he might have guessed he was once a priest.

Facing this suspicious figure who exuded the aura of a behind-the-scenes boss, Mo Wen instinctively grew wary but still stepped inside. Immediately, he saw the broker’s smile collapse in an instant; the man’s eyes fixed intently on Mo Wen’s feet.

He seemed about to say something but, to preserve his dignity, forced himself to maintain an inscrutable demeanor, silently watching the faint stain of blood slowly spread on his favorite carpet. Then Mo Wen abruptly drew the curtains.

The office darkened, yet the light emanating from the broker himself did not fade.

In the shadows, the glowing broker sighed helplessly, “Alright, fearless and keenly observant, with impressive initiative—you’ve left quite the ‘good impression’ on me, middleman.”

He spoke the words “good impression” through gritted teeth, making K-ai, standing nearby, fear the worst was about to happen.

Yet, in the end, the broker did nothing more.

As a middleman, discernment was paramount. Equipped with an entire set of scanning devices and aided by a small computing unit in his office, he could almost completely analyze every inch of Mo Wen’s structure.

He confirmed immediately that this was a humanoid being, not human. Even from appearance alone, Mo Wen was indistinguishable from a human—black hair, black eyes, short hair, a healthy young man.

Yet this humanoid’s body contained over a thousand bones, with the chest and abdomen shielded by sturdy bone plates. Bone density, muscle strength, and skin toughness all far exceeded human limits. Inside were additional organs unlike any known bioengineering designs, along with unidentified substances.

Considering that no major corporation would silently produce a synthetic being utterly divorced from existing technological trees, the broker’s personal AI assistant deduced he must hail from another world, an alien realm, or somewhere else entirely.

A bizarre conclusion, but one that stood as irrefutable evidence. The broker chose to trust this hypothesis and, on that basis, appraised Mo Wen’s value.

Performance data showed this humanoid was far inferior to military-grade cyborgs; even heavily modified civilian cyborgs outclassed him in many respects. But the implications went far beyond mere combat effectiveness.

New possibilities in biotechnology, foreign perspectives, the method of arrival here...

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This was an important client. Even just selling his information to corporations would earn a fortune.

“So, tell me your name.”

“Mo Wen.”

“And the reason for seeking me?”

“To deal in special merchandise.” “To resolve a conflict.”

Mo Wen frowned, glancing at K-ai who had interrupted: “Didn’t I tell you I could help handle your original gang? You don’t have to worry.”

K-ai looked ashamed. “Sorry, I lied to you at first. Actually, how should I put it...”

He was tongue-tied. He had intended to use words to smooth over the troubles between Mo Wen and his gang, but when the moment came, his mind went blank.

Fortunately, the broker valued channels more than cargo. He immediately retrieved K-ai’s birthplace and affiliated gang from his database, then, based on the preliminary personality model he had built, began to mediate.

“Due to a misunderstanding, Mr. Mo Wen and the Hawks Gang clashed in the wilderness. Then this young man K-ai, in order to survive, tried to distance himself, correct?”

K-ai nodded. “That’s right.”

The broker understood. “I see. I’ll take your request for now. Mr. Mo Wen, I’ll act as mediator and lay everything out clearly. Then you can decide.”

Mo Wen did not refuse; he calmly awaited the explanation.

Though not present on the scene nor deeply familiar with K-ai’s gang, the broker’s outstanding intelligence gathering and AI-driven simulations allowed him to reconstruct the full picture.

“As is well known, with rapid technological advance, cheap human labor has been almost entirely replaced by new intelligent machines. Most natural-born humans lack jobs and reproductive rights—they are a generation displaced by machines and transhumans, surviving only on corporate welfare, addicted to free services, awaiting death.”

“The Hawks Gang functions more like an autonomous community organization for Outer Ring residents, whose members are primarily common folk. Your gang’s core goal is likely fundraising for tuition and enhancement costs, so that a small number of smart children can grow into dignified, truly ‘working’ humans, isn’t that right?”

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K-ai nodded, but Mo Wen’s brow remained furrowed.

He had already researched this online, but hearing it spoken aloud still unsettled him.

The broker continued, “Putting aside that almost no jobs are available to Outer Ring residents, even regular work won’t cover a child’s enhancement expenses—modifying a person costs far more than creating a transhuman. You have to engage in illicit activities, forbidden by the Inner Ring, which require leaving the city and are quite dangerous.”

“Outside the city, due to nuclear and biological attacks during the world war, the corporations claim the area is heavily contaminated, causing people to become impulsive, violent, and sometimes suddenly malicious, attacking others.”

“By convention, unless two forces have prior arrangements, people exercise extreme caution when meeting outside the city.”

“Mr. Mo Wen, you must have snuck close to them and been discovered, right?”

Mo Wen admitted, “Yes. But I don’t think that justified them shooting at me. I don’t regret killing them—they clearly warned me and gave me a chance to leave instead of striking first.”

The broker detected, from K-ai’s fleeting expression, that Mo Wen was telling the truth.

“From the perspective of protecting their own people, firing first isn’t wholly unjustified. But retaliating in self-defense against those who shoot first without explicit warning is also reasonable.”

“Let me summarize.”

“The Hawks Gang, aware they caused the conflict and that only the shooter died, likely wants to recover their goods and break even—not revenge. They still have nearly thirty cyborg gunmen, a few grenades and homemade rocket launchers, and one deeply modified cyborg. Given the target, they wouldn’t hire outside help.”

“The Hawks Gang can offer manpower, a small amount of homemade munitions, and opportunities for illicit trade and theft outside the city that I don’t know about.”

“And Mr. Mo Wen, you’re alone. Of course, that one is dangerous enough.”

The broker smiled. “To resolve this conflict, we mustn’t alienate either side. So, Mr. Mo Wen, would you be interested in a three-way deal?”