The Creators: From Night City

Page 458

Of course, it is also the natural enemy of a novice hunter like Doria.

They typically lurk in darkness and mist, using echolocation to hunt their prey. With their formidable physical abilities and echolocation skills, they are virtually invincible hunters. Their signature roar once became the most typical death sound at the bottom of the nest, making them an undisputed top species in the food chain.

So no matter how delicious the corpse is, it's nothing more than the oppressive feeling brought by the natural enemy.

As the 'Reaper Beast' excrement gradually evaporated, the rats finally couldn't resist the trembling that came from their genes and fled in panic.

One, two, three... eight, nine.

Watching the ninth rat dart into another pipe, Doria immediately jumped up and rushed towards the pile of corpses, starting to scavenge and lick the ground as fast as she could.

It's important to know that the 'Reaper Beast's' excrement can not only scare away weaker creatures, but also lure in more powerful predators.

For example, the skinner or the sulfur crystal spider.

Doria moved with lightning speed; her years of experience collecting scraps had made her incredibly nimble.

Three corpses lay on the ground, their deaths extremely gruesome.

Some were pierced through the chest by unknown weapons and torn in two, while others were cut in two with a single stroke. The last one was like a wrung-out rag, the corpse squeezed and deformed into a spiral shape before finally breaking in two due to the unbearable weight.

The three corpses were carelessly thrown on the ground, their heads severed and deliberately stacked together, with some kind of horrifying battle pattern drawn in blood below them.

The remaining blood flowed freely, meandering across the ground into dazzling characters.

But Doria is illiterate.

Ignoring the horrifying text, the first thing she did was to rip the respirator off the corpse's face.

It is important to know that the bottom of the hive is full of poisonous gas. Over hundreds and thousands of years, the hives above have released countless quantities and types of waste poisonous gas into the bottom hive.

These toxic gases mix, intertwine, and ferment, transforming into an even more deadly substance.

Many toxic gases are so potent that without air filtration equipment, just a few breaths can rot your entire lungs and half of your lung cavity into a honeycomb-like state.

Air filtration equipment, especially the advanced lightweight filtration equipment on the faces of these corpses, is a rare and precious treasure in the bottom nest.

Unfortunately, the bodies had been mangled beyond recognition, and the three "Iron Jaw" model breathing masks were all badly damaged. The thick, curved, yellowish-green eyepieces were broken, and the filter canisters and corresponding interface units were deformed to varying degrees.

But Doria didn't mind at all.

Although it was old and worn out, it could still be used after being repaired by the technicians at the gathering point. She had just heard that a "craftsman" had come to the gathering point a few days ago and was very skilled, so she could ask him to take a look.

She quickly dismantled the tattered protective suit, gathering up any usable ceramic armor plates, fibers, and plastics. She also unhesitatingly ripped the shoulder armor and boots, which were still barely in shape, off the corpse, stuffing them along with the blood-stained belts and webbing into her tattered sack.

These webbing, typically made of tough bulletproof fibers, are considered standard military accessories and are generally used to hang ammunition, grenades, and other equipment or small parts.

Then came the scattered guns on the ground.

Two Graveyard-III automatic rifles and one riot shotgun all had a bulky, rugged appearance, but unfortunately, they died in battle along with their former owners.

The attacker's deadly attack did not avoid the opponent's weapon, resulting in the violent destruction of two of the weapons, with bent barrels and twisted bodies, rendering them unusable.

However, Doria didn't seem to mind at all as she stuffed the broken gun into her pocket and grinned foolishly while carrying a still-functioning automatic gun.

She awkwardly removed the magazine from the gun and discovered that there were nine thick bullets inside, which made her even more excited.

From then on, she was also a person who owned a gun.

Of course, the top priority right now is to make a quick getaway.

Chapter 930 Anvil Gathering Place

In the lower nesting area, a suitable gathering place near the bottom nest is a treasure trove.

However, a qualified gathering place needs to meet many prerequisites.

Space, safety, energy, and transportation must all be taken into account.

The "anvil gathering place" is a relatively representative gathering place in the upper and lower nesting areas.

Its name comes from a giant forging press called "Anvil," which has long since ceased operation. This rusted behemoth is now the central landmark and symbol of power in the settlement.

The industrial promethium torches flashed, dispelling the darkness at the entrance.

The fact that they dared to so brazenly raise torches in this environment, with the two quadruple heavy power guns at the entrance of the settlement being the core of everything.

Safety is an absolute necessity in this environment.

Although the settlement was indeed very safe, to be honest, the 'protection fees' were extremely high, so high that Doria could barely afford them.

But since this is the closest gathering place to the bottom nest in the lower nest area, it makes it extremely convenient for people like her to go down and shop anytime.

"Ha, isn't this our pirate hunter Doria? Looks like you've had a good haul today." The guard at the entrance, gun in hand, took a puff of his 'tech cigarette' and chuckled.

“I suggest you smoke less, Highland,” the hunter glanced at the blue smoke exhaled by the other man and continued, “Those ‘chimney ghosts’ in the abandoned ventilation ducts aren’t good people. You can’t really treat them like apothecaries.”

"I suspect that what you're holding in your mouth contains a lot of mutated fungal hyphae, which grow from toxic waste."

"Ha, thanks for your concern." The gatekeeper opened the small door for the other person with his deformed left hand. "But I can't stay here without taking a couple of puffs."

The hunter tossed a small cloth bag made of cable insulation to the guard, who immediately opened it to reveal a patch of light brown moss.

"I scraped it off the damp pipe walls near the Leaky Canyon. Let's pump it in together; it'll keep us alive for a couple more days."

Highlander held the moss, which smelled strongly of metal, to his nose, smiled with satisfaction, and gave a slightly deformed thumbs-up.

"It has to be you, the real deal."

"Anything new happening at the gathering point lately?" The female hunter wasn't in a hurry to leave; instead, she struck up a conversation with the other person after entering the gathering area.

She certainly wouldn't be so generous as to give away an entire bag of 'slippery moss' for free; her main purpose was to gather information along the way.

Keep in mind that this bag of "refreshing" moss can be exchanged for at least ten or so fungal cakes, or two or three bottles of "recycled water".

"The 'Son of the Anvil' is fighting again with the skinning gang from the Xiagoucao area. It's said that many people have died on both sides." The guard was also very savvy and shared a lot of information he knew.

"Has the local representative of the 'Water Pipe Guild' delivered the new water yet?" Doria asked.

"Two truckloads arrived yesterday, they're all quite fresh. If you want to buy breakfast, go to the northwest corner of Tiezhen Square."

"Okay, by the way, have there been any new faces lately?"

"Not long ago, a mid-level independent caravan came down, led by old cripple Orak. However, the caravan members were all acting suspiciously, wearing robes, and they wouldn't let us inspect them. They're still staying there now and haven't left yet."

"Hey, don't be reckless. The more you know, the more dangerous it becomes," the huntress advised.

"Of course."

"Is that 'wandering craftsman' who arrived a few days ago still in the camp?" Only then did the huntress ask casually.

"He's still there. I don't know what deal he made with Boss Du Rui, but the boss assigned him a house on the top floor of the Hive Wall, and he's still living there now."

The guard glanced discreetly at the bag behind the huntress and continued, "Don't let his mysterious demeanor fool you. His skills are no worse than that charlatan fake mechanical priest from the 'Mechanical Mass.' He also runs a business, buying up rare items at fairly reasonable prices. If you're unsure about anything, you can try your luck."

"Okay!"

Having obtained the information she wanted, Doria walked into the gathering point with satisfaction.

On a huge metal platform, dozens of meters above the surrounding ground, a circle of precious lights shines; this is the base of that ancient "anvil" forging press.

Surrounding the forging platform are vertical residential areas built using abandoned factory walls, large pipes, and recycled equipment. These buildings, stacked layer upon layer like a honeycomb, cling to the original urban structure, forming a "barrier" hundreds of meters high.

The buildings are connected by swaying suspended staircases, reinforced gas pipes, and rusted metal skybridges, forming a dangerous network of elevated walkways.

The craftsman mentioned by the gatekeeper lived on the top floor of the honeycomb fortress, which was also the best location.

The huntress, carrying a full bag, walked across 'Anvil Square', followed the metal skybridge, and circled around to the western third level of the Hive Wall.

Her residence was there.

Before going to sell the stolen goods, she needs to rest and recuperate.

Meanwhile, the Highlander at the gate couldn't wait to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

He rolled the moss into the cigarette, pressed it down, wrapped it with oil paper, and then eagerly lit it next to the industrial promethium torch.

The smoke from the burning moss, which has mild hallucinogenic and stimulating effects, made him momentarily dizzy and disoriented, so much so that he didn't hear someone knocking on the door.

"Open the door, damn Highlander, open the door now!"

Finally, the guards, having recovered, saw the people shouting and clamoring to enter the city standing in front of the gate.

"Dorian, what are you up to now? Why are you back so early? What, did someone rob you?"

The person who knocked on the door was a seasoned junk collector and scavenger, but Highlander remembered that the man had only been gone for less than a day and suddenly returned.

You should know that these scavengers who go out to collect garbage for business are usually gone for two or three days at a time. Sometimes, if it happens to be a day when garbage is dumped down from above, it is common for them not to come back for a week.

"Watch your door, you're always spewing filth, be careful someone doesn't jump on it one day." The other person retorted sarcastically as usual.

"Even if you die, I won't die," the gatekeeper muttered as he opened the door.

However, as the other person passed by him, they didn't forget to throw out a retort, "That's not necessarily true."

Highlander took a puff of his newly 'flavored' cigarette, intending to continue arguing with the other person, but in his dizzy state, he seemed to see blue feathers peeking out from the other person's collar and rapidly spreading all over their body.

He was startled and stood up straight to look again, only to find that everything was normal, as if what he had just seen was an illusion.

The security guard glanced at the cigarette in his hand and attributed the earlier anomaly to the fact that the spiked substance had been added too much, causing him to hallucinate.

However, after thinking about it, he finally put it in his mouth.

"After I finish this one, I'll smoke less in the future."

The smoke billowed upwards, turning into a chilling blue in the dark sky.

Chapter 931 Subspace (The Sewage Pit)

The gate, made of broken nails, was unusually sturdy; its superb craftsmanship made it no less than a cast iron gate produced on a standard assembly line.

Doria gripped the automatic gun tightly and knocked on the door of the 'Craftsman'.

This was her first time interacting with the other party.

"Please come in."

A polite voice came from inside the house, making the female hunter, who was used to living in an environment with a high proportion of mothers, feel a little uncomfortable.

Those struggling in the bottom nest don't have the energy to be overly polite; in fact, many born and raised there can't even speak complete sentences.

'This guy must have fallen from grace in the middle management.'

The iron gate was thick and heavy, but it was nothing in the hands of the 'robust' Doria.

The moment the door was pushed open, a warm orange light shone out of the room.

Bright lights.

Light was so cheap in this room that Doria felt it was a luxury.

"Are you trying to fix something, or are you planning to sell something?"

The polite voice continued to ask questions.

"We'll repair it first, and if the price is right, we can sell it."

Both are Low Gothic, but when the other person speaks it, it sounds like poetry, while when Doria speaks it, it sounds like a large saw blade felling a tree.

"Oh"

The 'craftsman' emerged from behind the counter.

Unfortunately, a mask with a half-smile covered the other person's face, and a large cloak concealed their figure.

Apart from a short cane, Doria saw nothing else.

Fortunately, she had gotten used to the secretive style of these "tech priests".

'Perhaps another modification fanatic; half his body is probably replaced with iron.'

The huntress tossed the package onto the table that served as a counter, and from that moment on, her hand would never let go of the trigger again.

Double-crossing is all too common here, and you can never be too cautious for your first transaction.

"It's a mass-produced product with no design flair whatsoever."

The 'craftsman' casually rummaged through the contents of the bag and gave his evaluation.

"It's a pity about these metal materials; they could have been used to make better weapons."

Jiang Bing glanced at the tattered items in the bag; their clunky, rough appearance didn't interest him much in handling them.

The knowledge contained in these junks is pitifully small, and the completely standardized design style makes these weapons very similar in all aspects. Once you get your hands on a few, you can see the basics all at a glance.