The noon sun barely pierced Neo-Shanghai's smog, a faint yellow haze seeping through the drizzle as Jun Xi stood on Orion Tower's 15th floor, his faded black hoodie swapped for the tactical jacket—war demanded sharpness today. The city sprawled below—slums a rusting sprawl south, Midtown's neon a jagged hum, the Northern Towers a cold glint of steel and secrets. 192,933,744 Union Coins. The Money Makes Money System ticked up 9,646,687 UN since dawn, a steady thrum in his skull that synced with the grid's roar—100 servers glowed, their quantum hub a deep blue pulse against the concrete, the steel-patched window a scar from NexCorp's drone. Seventeen days ago, he'd been ash—1,500 UN, a burned-out shack, parents' screams his only echo. Now, XiTech's fire had the slums as his blade, Jade Vipers cut NexCorp's leash, and Sofia Valtieri's ops team—10 agents, four drones—struck at noon. War was here. His dark eyes glinted, calculative, calm—a slum kid's edge honed to a blade.
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 16,000—160 mil UN banked since yesterday. You're at 202 mil now, Jun Xi—slum's your shield." 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 Vipers' pledge. Tara sprawled nearby, boots kicked up, her holo-pad flickering—Sofia's team glowed: Third Lane, ops strike, noon, 10 agents, four drones. "202 mil's a war cry," Tara rasped, silver stud glinting as she chewed a mint strip. "Sofia's team's here—strike's now. Northern Towers want you crushed—fight."
Kai hauled a crate of server spares, wiry frame flexing, his buzzed hair damp—his grunt was rough. "202 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. 207 mil now—nuts!" Funds ticked up—207,580,431 UN—interest and sales a relentless surge. Jun Xi smirked, flirty mask slipping on. "Nuts is my game—207 mil's a roar. Jia, website's buzzing—push the feed. Lina, grid's shield—now. Tara, Sofia's team—jam 'em. Kai—Third Lane, fight."
Jia's fingers flew—her holo-pad glowed, XiTech.com's feed streaming live: "Slum King Jun Xi—207 mil UN, 17 days. MarketPulse: Your Edge, Our Code." Slum posts flooded in—"Jun Xi's our king—207 mil!""NexCorp's here—we fight!"—defiance roared: "Slum king's ours—Vipers stand!""XiTech's real—slum's alive!" Funds hit 210 mil UN—MarketPulse soared to 16,500 users, 165 mil UN banked. The system chimed: "Funds: 210,227,119 UN. Interest: 10,511,355 UN daily. Mission: Secure Slum Influence—Reward: 15 mil UN, Street Network Knowledge. Progress: 80%."
Lina's holo-pad pinged with slum chatter—her laugh was raw, fierce. "They're fighting—Vipers posted, 'Slum king's war—NexCorp burns.' Techies armed, kids throwing scrap—slum's your blade, Jun Xi. 210 mil—17 days." She slammed a panel—grid's shield hummed, a blue pulse flaring. Tara's fingers flew, holo-pad glowing—Sofia's drones stuttered, signals jammed. "Drones down—agents are in. Third Lane's hot—go!" Kai bolted, crate dropped—his voice echoed, "On it!" Jia yelped, holo-pad pulsing—MarketPulse hit 17,000 users, 170 mil UN banked. "212 mil now—nuts!" Funds hit 212,873,807 UN—slum defiance roared.
Jun Xi hit Third Lane, jacket tight, drizzle cold on his neck—slums buzzed, wet concrete stinging his boots, plasma smoke thick in the air. Four drones smoked, crashed by Tara's jam—10 agents in black tactical gear fanned out, holo-rifles gleaming. Vipers clashed—knives met rifles, ink gleaming on their necks, blood splattering. Slum techies fought—pipes swung, a kid threw a holo-ball rigged to spark—agents stumbled. The scarred Viper leader grinned, knife red—his growl was fierce. "NexCorp's done—slum's yours, king!" Jun Xi smirked, flirty edge sharp—100x learning spun: agent moves, slum layout, NexCorp's weak spots. "Slum's ours—NexCorp bleeds!" He grabbed a fallen holo-rifle, Data Analysis Skill mapping shots—three agents down, drones smoked.
Kai charged in, fists bloody—his tattoos gleamed, a pipe in hand as he cracked an agent's helmet. "Slum king—Vipers bleed, we fight!" A techie shouted, "XiTech's king—die, NexCorp!"—slum kids cheered, throwing scrap, defiance a roar. Jun Xi fired—two more agents dropped, five fled, plasma scorching walls near Lucky Coin. The slum stood—Vipers bled, techies fought, kids chanted—NexCorp's team broke, retreating to Midtown. Jun Xi stood, jacket singed, drizzle mixing with sweat—his smirk was flirty, calculative. "Slum's my blade—NexCorp's done."
Back at Orion, the grid roared—100 servers glowed, hub a deep thrum, funds hitting 215 mil UN with MarketPulse's surge—17,500 users, 175 mil UN banked. Lina met him at the door, grease-slick hands on his jacket—her voice was low, fierce. "215 mil—slum stood, Jun Xi. Vipers bled, techies fought—NexCorp ran again. 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—215 mil's a roar. NexCorp's bleeding."
Tara banged in, holo-pad glowing—Sofia's team retreated: Midtown, ops failed, Sofia's orders: escalate again. "Slum's stand—Sofia's pissed. 215 mil's a war drum—Northern Towers are planning. Tomorrow, bigger—again." Kai followed, blood on his knuckles—his grunt was sharp. "215 mil—nuts. Slum fought—Vipers bled—Jia's tweak's gold, though." Jia trailed, holo-pad pulsing—her voice cracked. "18,000 users—180 mil banked. 217 mil now—nuts!" Funds hit 217,520,495 UN—interest rolled, slum defiance swelled.
Jun Xi stood by the window, drizzle misting his face—Midtown pulsed, slums roared below. The system chimed: "Funds: 217,520,495 UN. Interest: 10,876,024 UN daily. Mission Progress: 90%—Secure Slum Influence." His smirk sharpened—217 mil UN, 17 days—slum king wasn't a whisper; it was a storm shaking Neo-Shanghai. Lina leaned on him, Tara grinned wild, Kai and Jia buzzed—crew tight, a spark alive. Vipers bled, Sofia's team fled again, but the slum's roar turned fierce—XiTech's fire burned, and he'd burn through anything.