Lina leaned on a server rack, her jumpsuit smudged with grease, a holo-pad in hand—her voice cut through the hum, sharp and steady. "Grid's locked—100 servers, X9s tight, hub's gold. MarketPulse's at 18,500—185 mil UN banked since yesterday. You're at 228 mil now, Jun Xi—slum's chanting." Her dark hair hung loose, sweat streaking her neck, and Jun Xi felt that pull—her pulse, her fire, the way she'd kissed him raw after the fight. Tara sprawled nearby, boots kicked up, her holo-pad flickering—Sofia's escalation glowed: Northern Towers, ops team, bigger strike, tomorrow. "228 mil's a war cry," Tara rasped, silver stud glinting as she chewed a mint strip. "Sofia's pissed—ops team's tripling. Northern Towers want you crushed—tomorrow's war."
Kai hauled a crate of server spares, wiry frame flexing, his buzzed hair damp—his grunt was rough. "228 mil? Slum king's insane—Jia's tweak's a beast." Jia sat cross-legged, lanky and 19, her comp sci holo-pad pulsing—her voice cracked, eager. "Predictive's humming—5% bump, 5 mil more. 233 mil now—nuts!" Funds ticked up—233,396,519 UN—interest and sales a relentless surge. Jun Xi smirked, flirty mask slipping on. "Nuts is my game—233 mil's a roar. Jia, website's buzzing—push the feed. Lina, grid's yours—lock it down. Tara, Sofia's team—dig deeper. Kai—Third Lane, scout."
Jia's fingers flew—her holo-pad glowed, XiTech.com's feed streaming live: "Slum King Jun Xi—233 mil UN, 18 days. MarketPulse: Your Edge, Our Code." Slum posts flooded in—"Jun Xi's our king—233 mil!""NexCorp ran—we stand!"—legend surged: "Slum king's ours—Vipers bleed!""XiTech's real—slum's alive!" Funds hit 235 mil UN—MarketPulse soared to 19,000 users, 190 mil UN banked. The system chimed: "Funds: 235,272,543 UN. Interest: 11,763,627 UN daily. Mission: Secure Slum Influence—Reward: 15 mil UN, Street Network Knowledge. Progress: 95%."
Lina's holo-pad pinged with slum chatter—her laugh was raw, fierce. "They're chanting—Vipers posted, 'Slum king's legend—NexCorp burns.' Techies armed, kids painting your name—slum's yours, Jun Xi. 235 mil—18 days." She stepped close, grease-slick hand brushing his—her warmth sank in, steadying him. "Sofia's strike—tomorrow's big. We're ready." His gut flickered—legend was a spark, NexCorp a storm. He grinned, flirty edge sharp. "Ready's us—235 mil's louder. Slum's mine, NexCorp'll bleed."
Tara's pad beeped—Sofia's escalation sharpened: Northern Towers, ops team, 15 agents, six drones, tomorrow noon. "Tomorrow's war—15 agents, six drones. Sofia's orders—Northern Towers want you down." Jun Xi nodded, 100x learning spinning—agent moves, slum layout, NexCorp's strings. "Down? Slum's my legend—they'll break." Tara grinned, sly. "Legend's right—slum's all in. Vipers, techies, kids—your name's on walls. NexCorp's pissed—Sofia's desperate."
Jun Xi slipped out, hoodie up, drizzle cold on his neck—Third Lane buzzed, wet concrete stinging his boots, plasma scars black on the walls from yesterday's fight. Kids darted past, holo-balls flickering—vendors shouted over sizzling woks: "Slum king's 235 mil—NexCorp's scared!" Walls glowed—holo-graffiti blazed: "Slum King Jun Xi—XiTech Rules!" The scarred Viper leader met him in an alley, ink gleaming, blood crusted—his growl was fierce. "Slum king—your name's legend. 235 mil's loud—slum's yours. Vipers bleed, techies fight—NexCorp's done." Jun Xi smirked, flirty edge sharp—Data Analysis Skill spun: slum morale, NexCorp's desperation. "Slum's ours—235 mil's louder. Legend's us—NexCorp bleeds."
Word spread—slum posts surged: "Slum king's legend—235 mil!""NexCorp's done—XiTech's king!" Kids chanted in alleys, techies armed with scrap, Vipers sharpened knives—slum's fire burned. Jun Xi stood by Lucky Coin, bell jangling—shelves sagged, counter scratched, a kid painting his name on the wall. "Slum king—NexCorp's scared!" the kid shouted, paint dripping. Jun Xi grinned, flirty charm flaring. "Scared's right—slum king's here. Keep painting—legend's us."
Back at Orion, the grid roared—100 servers glowed, hub a deep thrum, funds hitting 238 mil UN with MarketPulse's surge—19,500 users, 195 mil UN banked. Lina met him at the door, grease-slick hands on his hoodie—her voice was low, fierce. "238 mil—slum's your legend, Jun Xi. Vipers bleed, techies paint—NexCorp's running. You're their king." She pulled him close, her warmth burning, steady—her lips brushed his, raw, alive. "Pulse's beating—slum's yours." He grinned, hand in her hair—wet, warm. "Slum's ours—238 mil's a roar. NexCorp's bleeding."
Tara banged in, holo-pad glowing—Sofia's team prepped: Midtown to slums, 15 agents, six drones, tomorrow noon. "Slum's legend—Sofia's pissed. 238 mil's a war drum—Northern Towers are striking. Noon tomorrow, hard." Kai followed, wiping sweat—his grunt was sharp. "238 mil—nuts. Slum's chanting—Vipers bled—Jia's tweak's gold, though." Jia trailed, holo-pad pulsing—her voice cracked. "20,000 users—200 mil banked. 240 mil now—nuts!" Funds hit 240,148,567 UN—interest rolled, slum legend swelled.
Jun Xi stood by the window, drizzle misting his face—Midtown pulsed, slums roared below. The system chimed: "Funds: 240,148,567 UN. Interest: 12,007,428 UN daily. Mission Progress: 98%—Secure Slum Influence." His smirk sharpened—240 mil UN, 18 days—slum king wasn't a whisper; it was a legend shaking Neo-Shanghai. Lina leaned on him, Tara grinned wild, Kai and Jia buzzed—crew tight, a spark alive. Vipers bled, Sofia's team loomed, but the slum's roar turned fierce—XiTech's fire burned, and he'd burn through anything.