Burdened with a huge doubt, Ning Fan opened the door with a heavy heart.
"Big Fan! You're really going?" At the door, the chubby boy and the bespectacled boy were already waiting for him.
Looking at these two childhood friends, Ning Fan temporarily set aside his thoughts about the blood lineage test report.
"I have a favor to ask you," Ning Fan licked his lips, speaking apologetically, "During this time, please take care of my mom..."
"Are you sick? Why so formal with us?" The bespectacled boy lightly punched Ning Fan's chest, "We're two wild kids, grew up without parents. Aunt Fang treated us like her own. Taking care of her is only natural, isn't it?"
"Big Fan, you stubborn guy, once you've decided something, no one can stop you!" The chubby boy looked worried, "But, even if it's for Aunt Fang's sake, you've got to come back alive."
"Mm." Ning Fan nodded firmly.
The chubby boy waved a bag in his hand, from which wafted a fragrant aroma, "Don't worry about Aunt Fang! We'll take good care of her, feed her well!"
Food in the Lower City generally fell into two categories.
One was local food obtained through hunting or gathering in the wild.
It was filling and cheap, but had an extremely high Miasma content.
The other was food "sent" by the Upper City.
Every day, the Upper City would discard their leftover food or some garbage into a pipeline called the [Gifted Path].
Every area in the Lower City had such a pipeline.
Ironically, the leftover food sent down through the [Gifted Path], after being reprocessed and sold, was three times more expensive than local Lower City food.
The reason was simple.
Even the leftovers from the Upper City were cleaner and healthier than local food.
This type of food was called refined cuisine.
And what the chubby boy held in his bag was this refined cuisine.
"Thanks, I won't say more," Ning Fan said gratefully, "When I earn some money..."
"Alright! Enough talk, get going!" The chubby boy pushed Ning Fan's shoulder, "Stay alive, that's more important than anything!"
"Okay, I'm off." Ning Fan nodded seriously and turned towards the district wall.
He didn't dare look back.
He was afraid he might become cowardly, might become reluctant to leave.
He was only eighteen, and he too was afraid.
Afraid of death, afraid of separation.
Half an hour later, when Ning Fan reached the edge of the district wall, his emotions had gradually calmed.
Compared to the inner district, it was noticeably noisier here.
Groups of three to five people gathered together, shouting and clamoring, occasionally two factions would break into fights for unclear reasons.
These were all Marauders.
Ning Fan looked around and finally focused his gaze on a rotting wooden board.
Four characters were carved on the board with a knife.
[Stray Dog Pack]
Ning Fan walked over.
Sitting next to the wooden board was a man in his mid-twenties, quite handsome.
Except for the three scratch marks extending from his neck to his ear, which somewhat marred his looks.
Seeing Ning Fan approach, the young man raised an eyebrow.
"Giving a meal or begging for one?"
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Giving a meal meant hiring them for a task, like a sugar daddy.
Begging for a meal meant joining them, seeking a livelihood.
"Begging for a meal," Ning Fan said calmly, "The kind that fills the stomach."
"Oh?" The young man showed some interest, looking Ning Fan up and down, "What special skills do you have? Talking so big?"
"Is Lin Chuan here?"
"You know Brother Chuan?"
"I don't know him, just heard of him."
No matter what he did, Ning Fan always prepared in advance.
A month ago, after completing the Upper City selection, he had started researching the Marauder teams in F32 District.
Once rejected, becoming a Marauder was his last option.
Among the mixed bag of teams, he chose the [Stray Dog Pack].
Good reputation, lots of missions, no withholding pay.
Next, he had collected basic information on all members of the [Stray Dog Pack], and knew their leader was called Lin Chuan.
At this moment, a large hand suddenly slapped Ning Fan's shoulder hard from behind.
"Looking for me to beg for food, eh?"
This slap made him stoop a bit.
Ning Fan frowned slightly and turned his head.
The person behind him was only about 1.7 meters tall, but his build was extremely sturdy. He had long hair and a big beard, with a somewhat scattered gaze.
"Is it okay?" Ning Fan asked.
"Brother Chuan, this kid came saying he wants to eat his fill, quite the appetite!" The young man chuckled.
"Fuck!" Lin Chuan laughed and walked around from behind Ning Fan, sitting on a nearby oil drum, "Little brother, I see hundreds of people like you every year who only want money and don't care about their lives! But let me tell you, forget about eating your fill, even surviving is rare."
Ning Fan didn't explain much, but instead took out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to him.
Lin Chuan snatched it over, and when he saw the contents, his scattered eyes gained some brilliance.
"Holy shit! A top student?"
This paper was Ning Fan's test results.
Nine assessments, all full marks.
The only one in F32 District.
"No wonder you're so confident! Talented, eh?" Although Lin Chuan said this, Ning Fan could see a hint of disdain in his eyes.
It was the disdain that someone who had truly experienced life and death had for so-called geniuses who tried to package themselves with test scores.
"Hui Zi, didn't you also take the assessment a few years ago? What was your score?" Lin Chuan looked at the young man.
The young man called Hui Zi sneered, "Didn't pass a single subject, almost scored worse than an idiot in the same year."
From Hui Zi's tone, this wasn't something embarrassing, but rather something to be proud of.
Lin Chuan smiled at Ning Fan.
"He's now my deputy team leader."
"And then?"
"And then? There's no 'and then'," Lin Chuan tilted his head, "I just wanted to tell you that whether you can eat your fill has nothing to do with this piece of waste paper."
"Then what does it have to do with?"
Ning Fan asked calmly.
"Can you read?" Lin Chuan knocked hard on the rotting wooden board, "I want stray dogs that can tear apart prey, not straight-A little white rabbits."
"How do you know I'm a little white rabbit?"
Ning Fan's persistence made Lin Chuan frown, clearly a bit impatient.
"How many days left for Yang Beihai's commission?" Lin Chuan looked at Hui Zi.
Hui Zi replied, "Five days."
"Kid." Lin Chuan raised an eyebrow at Ning Fan, "We won't be leaving the district for these five days. If you want to join us, it's simple. Before we leave, use that thing on your back to make him bleed a little, and I'll take you in."
"Fuck, why am I the target again?" Hui Zi was dissatisfied.
"What? Are you afraid of getting hurt by a tender chicken?" Lin Chuan laughed loudly, standing up and walking to Ning Fan, "But if you can't even harm a hair on him before we leave, don't come back in the future. This Marauder's meal, you can't eat it."
"Alright, it's settled then."
Ning Fan nodded quietly.
Hui Zi was still muttering, wanting to argue a few more words with Lin Chuan.
But in the next second, Ning Fan suddenly drew the black sword from behind him and swung it down at Hui Zi's left arm!
Clang!
A sound of metal collision rang out.
A dagger had appeared in Hui Zi's hand at some point, just in time to block the black sword.
Ning Fan's eyes changed slightly.
He thought his move was fast and decisive, definitely catching Hui Zi off guard.
Nine all-round skills, including swordsmanship.
He had full marks!
But Hui Zi had clearly made this reactive response without any preparation.
Bang!
Ning Fan felt a pain in his abdomen, and his whole body was sent flying.
The surrounding Marauders saw this scene, just glanced casually, then continued busying themselves with their own affairs.
Here, conflicts were too common.
Hui Zi put the dagger back at his waist, walked over to Ning Fan who had fallen to the ground with a smile, hiked up his trouser leg, squatted down, and looked down at him.
"If you had swung at my head just now, the success rate would have been at least 30% higher! From the moment you accepted Brother Chuan's bet, you and I... became enemies!"
Hui Zi's smile was full of mockery, "Still soft-hearted towards enemies?"