Now he is facing at least forty fully armed players, each with at least one combat skill at the master level. His escape is a result of accumulated rich experience from years of battle.
What’s more terrifying is that this group of players has not yet reached their level cap, and their strength is still in a phase of rapid growth.
Perhaps next time they meet, Adam Heavyhammer will miss the little players chasing him today.
At dawn, as the sunlight sprinkled on this city that hadn’t slept through the night, cheers erupted from Panshing Street and spread to every district of Night City following the retreat of the last armored vehicle loaded with the wounded.
For this moment, regardless of any past hatred or conflicts with the Vortex Gang or the residents of the Watson District, everyone was cheering for them.
Homeless people, sex dolls, mercenaries, gangsters, civilians, vendors...
No matter the district, gang, color, race, or profession, they cast aside their prejudices against each other and in front of TVs, at bars and restaurants, by radios, even on the fluorescent screens on the streets, they hugged and cheered for Watson District’s victory. Googlᴇ search novel⁂fire.net
This wasn’t pretentious kindness, but genuine jubilation.
Perhaps for Huang Ban, this was only a setback, a loss. For the dead, they don’t need to offer solace money, and their warehouses are piled up with damaged equipment. Within less than a week, the vacant positions would be immediately filled; everything seemed to continue as usual, only needing to act low-key for a while.
Everything is merely an insignificant fragment on Huang Ban’s long timeline.
Even many companies thought similarly, not to mention Huang Ban would surely retaliate, as it’s well known that Neon People are petty and vengeful.
But for the citizens of Night City, this was a great victory.
They united together, defeating Huang Ban, who used to trample on them.
A giant corporation that could shake Night City with just a fart.
This wasn’t some mercenary team stealing a truck of Huang Ban’s equipment, nor some hacker graffitiing a prank on Huang Ban’s billboard, but rather the people rallied together, defeated the corporation, shattered Huang Ban’s conspiracy, drove their forces out of Panshing Street. Even a trivial victory was enough for these people to remember for a lifetime, speaking to their children, their grandchildren again and again, and always remembering.
Of course, most company executives would merely think people below were making a fuss, getting all worked up. When Huang Ban forced the retreat of military technology, Huang Ban Sanlang didn’t even jump out of bed to dance disco. Perhaps think tanks would submit analysis reports warning them of the massive risks this event harbored.
But long-term class division would cause a strong emotional split and information cocoons between both sides, and long-term alienation by capital and power, making it difficult to empathize with each other.
Just like feudal monarchs and their ministers couldn’t imagine a world without emperors or ministers, even after the Qing dynasty was overthrown, batches of aristocrats and warlords still thought about restoring the dynasty.
Just like the queen in the palace, hearing that her country’s people were in famine, unable to afford bread, would ignorantly ask ’Why don’t they eat cake?’
The once terrifying red giant collapsed over eighty years ago, and out of its corpse grew a monstrous being identical to them. Even the fallout in Western Europe was easily suppressed, with the remaining one secluded, severely injured in a civil war with multiple attempts proving ineffective, hence permanently dwindling.
They have secured the final victory; corporations are the ultimate victors of that war.
They have seized the nation, deprived the government of rights, controlled social operations, shaping people’s flesh and even thoughts.
The world would follow the current model endlessly until a final progenitor is competitively determined.
Life will always find its way, just like resistance never ceases.
Even if there are slight downturns, history forever moves forward, and the people are its creators.
Gloria stood up after safely reattaching a prosthetic for a Vortex Gang wounded person. Exhausted after a whole night of busyness, she still faced many more wounded who needed treatment. Despite volunteers rushing from all parts of Night City, they still faced shortages in manpower and medication. Until now, neither patients nor medical staff have discussed medical fees, and ERO’s inventory was already exhausted, relying solely on drugs rescued by gang members from pharmacies and warehouses.
Upon hearing the crowds’ cheers, she understood what had transpired, and her anxiety over the company’s operational status for the future eased slightly.
As Gloria prepared to attend to a patient, her clothing was tugged.
Gloria looked down and found Nishikawa Lingmei, the little girl saved from the fire by Masked Rider, with ointment still on her burn wounds. Her mother slept beside her.
Looking around at the cheering, Nishikawa Lingmei seemed puzzled, cautiously asking this kind-hearted doctor
"Auntie... Why is everyone so happy? Our house... was burned down... And we won’t have a place to live in the future..."
Gloria: "The house was already ruined, burning it down means we can build a new home."
Ling Mei felt a bit inferior, timidly said, "But... Our family... has no money... My mom works late every night just to come home..."
Gloria squatted down, looking at the little girl lying on the hospital bed made of planks and cabinets, gently tidying her slightly yellow hair, revealing a tender smile.
"Don’t worry, there’s always a way."