Copyright 2025 Old King. All rights reserved

  The truck’s engine snarled, a low rumble cutting through the muggy night. Amin’s hands, slick with sweat, gripped the wheel, his knuckles white against the cracked vinyl. His phone buzzed in his pocket—Kim’s third call since dusk. He let it die, eyes scanning the potholed road weaving through industrial sprawl. The air reeked of diesel and burnt rubber, his headache clawing like a caged beast. In the afternoon, Ma’s voice had cracked over the line from Hunan’s ruins. “Amin, has Lili arrived yet? A bus, Shenzhen plates, packed with village girls. She made a video call to you before boarding, right?”

  Amin’s gut had knotted. No call, no Lili. The video Ma described—Lili’s nervous grin, a grimy bus interior—was a lie. Hiss phone glowed with Lili’s photo, Ma’s words haunting him: “You called her.” Another lie. Someone had spun a digital ghost of him, his voice and face stitched from the Soul Ore he’d sold to HuaCent, when he was smuggled into Shenzhen. A trafficker’s old trick, Old Li had confirmed at the depot, cooking fake mutton soup. “They clone your consciousness, make a virtual you to scam families,” he’d growled. “Girls end up in Phoenix Hill saunas or sweatshops, lah.” Kim, tinkering with a gutted drone, nodded. “Common in Circuit North, yo. Digital doubles cost only $100 on the dark web. Your sister’s probably gone already.”

  Amin hadn’t told Ma. “She’s settling in,” he’d lied, voice hollow. Now, unable to wait, he roamed the industrial zones at night, searching. It was a pointless search, he knew. Lili’s face—fierce, twenty, dreaming of Shenzhen’s neon—burned in his mind. He’d sworn to protect her, but his own Soul Ore had betrayed them.

  Headlights caught two figures stumbling onto the road—a limping girl in a blue factory uniform, waving frantically, and another clutching her face, shadowed by the darkness. Amin slowed, wary, his headache spiking. The limping one hobbled to the passenger window, tears streaking her dirt-smeared face. “Big bro, please, give us a lift!” she pleaded, voice breaking. “We’re factory workers. Boss said our work was trash, threatened to sell us to a Phoenix Hill sauna. We escaped, lah!”

  Amin squinted through the cab’s dim glow. Their uniforms were torn and caked in mud, with the limping girl’s garbage bag slung tightly over her shoulder and the other’s hand clutching her bag. Lili’s face flashed in Amin’s mind—her fierce eyes, her trust in him. These sisses looked like her, scared and running. Heavendamn, maybe helping them could fix what he’d broken. “Hop in,” he growled, ignoring the warning in his gut. They looked desperate, like Lili might’ve been. “Rough world, heavendamn,” he sighed. “Hop in quick, loh.”

  The girls scrambled in, the limping one wincing as she settled. Amin glanced at them, their faces flickering under the dashboard’s light. “I’m Amin,” he said, pulling onto the road. “What’re your names, sisses? Which factory, loh?” He slid his phone out, Lili’s photo glowing—a fierce-eyed girl with a lopsided smile. “Ever seen her? She’s my sister.”

  The limping girl, neon green hair peeking from a cap, smirked through her pain. “Call me Sisi. This is Rox. Worked… uh, some no-name sweatshop in Tiegang. Sorry, haven’t seen her.” Rox, short-haired and silent, shook her head, eyes darting to the road. Amin’s jaw tightened—they were lying, but he let it slide. “Where you headed?”

  “Anywhere but back,” Sisi said, patting the garbage bag with a grin. She nudged Rox, who pulled a device—a drone jammer, its LED blinking green. “My jammer’s holding,” Sisi whispered. “Save your battery, Rox. Drones can’t spot us.”

  Amin’s eyes narrowed. An illegal drone jammer? They might be trouble. His headache roared, Red Dragon’s warped cry from Phoenix Hill—“I! Who am YOU, yo?”—echoing in his skull. He kept driving, the truck rumbling toward the depot.

  Sisi chuckled, wincing as she shifted her sprained ankle. She patted the garbage bag, grinning, whispering to Rox, “Good thing I taped it tight and tough—no issues.”

  “What’s in the bag?” Amin asked, his suspicion growing, voice low.

  “Girl’s stuff, lah. Nothing fancy.” Rox shot her a sharp look, clutching her bag tighter. Amin didn’t press, but suspicion gnawed. He’d hauled enough black-market cargo to smell a job gone wrong. “You screwed me back there,” Rox hissed, “Give me one reason not to ditch you.” Sisi smirked, wincing, and whispered, “Cause you need me to find Avei, and I need that cash. We’re stuck, sis.” Rox’s jaw clenched, but she nodded, eyes cold.

  After an awkward silence, Rox asked Sisi softly, “That thing you used—what the hell was it?”

  In a whisper, Sisi smirked proudly, “Life-Taker 3000, EMP flash grenade launched from a tube, fries drones and cyberlimbs, ten-meter burst. Circuit North’s finest. Black market must-have for crooks. Trouble hits, this gets you out.” She sighed, “Just too damn pricey and not always in stock. Otherwise, I’d blast a hundred of ‘em!”

  “What if you fire it in the server room?” Rox asked, pensive.

  “No way! This thing’s kill zone’s too small…” Sisi cut in, “Fry the servers, and what about your kid bro? Aren’t you trying to save him?”

  Rox whispered slowly, “I’m fried, damn it… Is Avei’s core still out there, or just a ghost?”

  “Yeah, I feel you!” Sisi’s voice cracked with sorrow. “My boyfriend—alive or dead? He’s lying there, breathing, heart beating. You hold him, he’s warm, real… but no consciousness…”

  Amin’s heart lurched. Lili—her consciousness stolen, like theirs? My fault, loh. His head throbbed, Lili’s smile flashing in the neon blur. He wanted to yell, What servers? Grenades? Not now. Get to the depot and let Kim sort these liars. “Tiegang’s rough, loh,” he said instead, voice flat. “Taking you to the depot, sisses?” His eyes peeked, watching their faces for cracks.

  Amin’s truck growled to a stop at the cargo depot, its tires crunching gravel under flickering neon floodlights. Rox and Sisi spilled out, Sisi limping, her garbage bag taped tight. The depot hummed with chaos—workers in grease-stained jackets heaved crates alongside clanking cargo bots, their electric arms hissing. By the sidelines, a knot of dockworkers squatted, eyes glued to phone screens blasting videos of girls twirling in short skirts, their laughter coarse as they debated, “Panties showin’ or not, lah?” Mei, the hooker, sashayed nearby, tugging at two workers’ sleeves, her e-cigarette puffing blue vapor. She tossed her hair, giggling, her voice a teasing lilt, “Buy me a drink, boys, and I’ll dance better than that, yo.” Sleazy pit, lah, Amin thought, scanning the neon-soaked sprawl. Lili’d hate this place.

  After Amin parked, dockworkers swarmed, soy “mutton” skewers and Budweisers in hand, neon haze painting their grins. “Yo, Split Brain!” a wiry one hollered. “Out lookin’ for your sister, and you snag two beauties? Damn, you move fast, lah!” Laughter erupted, but Amin waved them off, stone-faced.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  As Rox and Sisi trailed Amin toward Kim’s shop, a burly worker blocked their path with a raised hand, his grin crooked. “Oi, Split Brain, these girls from Phoenix Hill, lah?” he leered, eyes raking over Rox and Sisi’s torn clothes, lingering on their curves. “Lookin’ fine, sisses. Nice bodies. You doin’ the biz, or what?” Sisi’s neon green hair flashed as she stepped forward, wincing but smirking. “Do the biz? Go ask your mom, she’s open for it, yo!” she snapped, her voice sharp as a blade. Rox shrank behind Amin, eyes down. Amin’s jaw tightened, his glare burning into the worker. Bastard, talkin’ like that to Lili’s kind. The worker chuckled, raising his hands. “Just jokin’, lah. Chill, Split Brain.” He sauntered off, whistling, but Amin’s fists stayed clenched. This place’s poison.

  He led Rox and Sisi to Kim’s repair shop, a cluttered cave of scorched circuits and oil. Kim, with AR goggles perched on her head, looked up from a broken robot. She eyed the girls and asked, “Amin, who’re these, yo? Ain’t your sister, that’s damn clear.” Kim lowered her voice and added, “Yo, your sister’s trail? My dark web crew’s cracking every cam server, lah. As soon as Lili pops up, I’ll know. My pals’ll want cred for spottin’ her, yo. Nothin’s free in Shenzhen. Runnin’ around like that’s useless. Let the hacks do the work, lah.” Amin nodded, headache throbbing. That meant he needed more side jobs. Kim pushed her AR goggles up, squinting, and said, voice low, “Spill it, yo. What’s the deal with these girls, lah?”

  “Long story,” Amin said, leaning against a workbench as the hum of a half-fixed robot filled the air. “Found these two on the road, loh.” He muttered to Kim, voice low, eyes flicking to Rox and Sisi. “Said they ran from some Tiegang factory boss, but their story’s flimsy. Sounds like a made-up story.” Kim shook her head, skeptical. “Smells like black market scams, yo. Don’t fall for their sweet faces, lah.” she said, eyeing Sisi, who slumped against a tool rack. “Yo, sis! You look familiar! We met before, ain’t we? Circuit North, maybe?” Sisi’s grin was forced, her voice casual. “Nah, you got the wrong gal. Faces blur in this city.” Her eyes swept the shop—rows of diagnostic screens, robotic limbs, and plasma welders. “Didn’t expect a depot to have a rig this stacked. You fixin’ bots like a pro.” Kim snorted, unconvinced, and turned back to the robot’s sparking circuits. Amin’s suspicion gnawed. Sisi’s hidin’ something, like me with Lili’s truth.

  Before Kim could answer, shouts erupted outside. Boots pounded, drones buzzed. Amin peered through the shop’s grimy window—black-clad men stormed Old Li’s Mutton Soup Stall, LAPSS drones swarming, red beams slicing the dark. “Renyi Li!” one barked, voice amplified. “Come out, now!” Li’s “cousins”—dockworkers moonlighting as enforcers—poured out, wielding pipes and fists. “Get lost, lah!” one roared. “This ain’t your turf!” The intruders raised rifles, but Li’s men shoved back, fearless. The crowd swarmed, snatching rifles from the intruders, beating them back, and chasing them out of the depot and into the night.

  Amin’s pulse spiked. “Some gang,” Kim whispered, yanking her goggles down. “After Li, yo.” Rox and Sisi exchanged a glance, faces paling. Suddenly, the depot’s floodlights died, plunging the yard into blackness. The intranet cut out, and phones no bar. Drones multiplied, their beams crisscrossing. A cold, mechanical voice boomed: “This is ThunderVolt. Hand over Renyi Li in ten minutes, or we flatten this depot.”

  The depot boss, a grizzled ex-soldier, stormed out, shotgun raised. “ThunderVolt, huh? We’ve always kept the peace—rivers don’t cross wells. Why you bustin’ into my turf actin’ wild?” he bellowed. The drone blared, “Boss Li, no mistake, lah. Li stole HuaCent’s files. Wanna ‘em back. We just wanna invite him to Bastion for a little chat.”

  “Chat, my ass! You got somethin’ to say, spit it out right here!” The depot boss ranted, shotgun aiming at the drone. A low hum rumbled—the backup generator kicked in, and the depot’s lights blazed back on, neon flooding the chaos. Drones’ red beams sharpened, pinning workers like prey. Amin squinted, exposed. Heavendamn, we’re rats in a trap, loh.

  The drone sighed and said, “Boss Li, wrong move, lah. Defy me, you’ll beg. You don’t hand him over, I’m comin’ in to ‘invite’ him myself.”

  “Fuck your ancestors!” Boss Li roared, firing a shot that sent the drone crashing in sparks. The boss opened a container, revealing a stash of scavenged rifles and jury-rigged plasma cutters—tools from their smuggling days. “Arm up!” he roared. Though the depot wasn’t a fortress, years of invasion by roaming gangs had taught them to fight dirty. The alarm blared loudly. As practiced, 14.5mm smart anti-air machine guns rose from containers at depot’s corners. Workers, mostly ex-soldiers, and militia members grabbed weapons and scrambled onto the container walls. They quickly formed a defensive line.

  Heavendamn, Boss Li was insane, loh. Hitting a drone? ThunderVolt’s gonna slaughter us. Amin’s headache roared, Lili’s face flashing. My fault, selling that damn consciousness. Rox clutched her jammer, which wouldn’t work on these military-grade drones, eyes fierce, while Kim hefted a wrench, ready to swing.

  Security guards and dockworkers fired stolen rifles and pistols from the top of containers. The machine gun roared, spitting rounds that shredded drones into pieces. “Hold the line, lah!” a guard bellowed, but drones swarmed like a hive, blasting AA guns with grenades. One by one, the guns blew apart, metal screeching, falling silent. ThunderVolt and his crew vaulted onto the container tops, silhouettes against the floodlight glare. His hulking frame loomed, alloy cyberarms glinting, his men fanning out with rifles and shock batons. Their boots clanged on steel plates, a synchronized assault dominating the high ground. ThunderVolt’s unblinking eyes scanned the chaos, cybernetic lenses glowing red. “Boss Li!” he roared, voice booming like a megaphone, rattling the yard. Two of Li’s enforcers charged, assault rifle raised, but ThunderVolt moved like a machine—sidestepping, he crushed one’s skull with a punch, cyberarm sparking. His men fired, blue muzzle flashes cutting the night, pinning down workers scrambling for cover.

  Bullets sparked off ThunderVolt’s reinforced armor, but his crew returned fire, their smart-rifles locking targets with laser precision. A guard’s head snapped back, blood spraying LED-lit gravel. Workers screamed defiance, “Hold the line, lah!” but the defense crumbled fast. ThunderVolt leaped down, landing with a thud that shook the ground, his blade slicing a guard’s chest open. His men followed, breaching the line, shock batons crackling as they clubbed resistors. Amin clutched a pistol, hands shaking. Line’s gone, lah. ThunderVolt’s a ghost—cuts through us like nothing.

  ThunderVolt strode toward the stall, his voice booming, amplified like a siren: “Renyi Li’s mine. Stay clear, or bleed. Don’t toss your lives in the dirt!” Some workers faltered, dropping rifles, hands raised in surrender, eyes darting under drone beams. Others clenched their teeth, firing wildly, bullets pinging off containers. The crowd roared, but ThunderVolt’s snarl cut through: “Pathetic.” He charged, blade flashing, gutting a defiant worker. Old Li burst from the stall, shotgun blazing, but drones pinned him with red beams. “Alive!” ThunderVolt barked, his voice a cold boom: “Renyi Li, you’ve crossed the line! HuaCent want the drive back!” A taser net dropped Li writhing. Bullets tore through Mei, the hooker, her scream cut as her e-cigarette spun into the dirt. The boss took a chest shot, collapsing in blood. “No!” Amin hissed under his breath. Lili, I can’t die here.

  “My Truck! Now!” he yelled, shoving Rox, Sisi, and Kim toward his truck. Sisi stumbled, her wounded arm dripping blood. “Fuck!” she cursed. Kim hauled her up, and they piled into the cabin. Amin floored the gas, smashing through a parking barricade as drones pursued. Lili, I’m coming, he thought, the boss’s defiance—fuck your ancestors—drowned by ThunderVolt’s blood-soaked tide.

  Kim ripped her sleeve, Rox tore her shirt, both deftly binding Amin’s grazed arm and Sisi’s bleeding arm, hands steady like they’d stopped gushing blood a hundred times before. Amin’s eyes flicked to Rox, her face taut with something—guilt? Anger? He growled, “What’s in that bag, sisses? Truth, now.” Sisi smirked, pain etching her voice. “Premium Soul Ore drives, big bro. Worth a fortune. You want in?” Rox’s jaw tightened, her hand in her pocket, silent.

  Amin’s headache surged—had his Soul Ore been stolen like this? The truck roared through the road, drones fading behind. Blood soaked the fabric, and Sisi, pale from loss, slumped unconscious, a lipstick-shaped stun baton falling from her hand. From behind, flames lit the horizon, ThunderVolt’s shadow looming in his mind. Suddenly, a blue flash erupted from the distant depot, some fool triggering an EMP bomb, gunfire fading thinly. Someone’s still fighting, and ThunderVolt’s cybernetic limbs and his drones were toasted, Amin thought, gripping the wheel. “Hold on,” he muttered—to the girls, to himself, to Lili—as the road stretched into the unknown.