Scavengers on the Taiping Continent, especially in the seaside area of West Wind Manor, were particularly rampant. Local scavengers even dared to openly sell bloody cybernetic limbs to black-market doctors and count the money right before everyone's eyes.
But those were yesterday's stories.
When the iron fist first hit their faces, scavengers felt for the first ti the terror of having nowhere to hide.
The forr leader of the scavengers who once ran amok in Night City, the Ripper Benjamin, was not hiding in so underground corner of the Taiping Continent as others imagined, but in a luxurious top-floor apartnt in the city center, complete with an open-air swimming pool for enjoynt.
Did they really think he would be the boss with those mud-legged guys in poverty-stricken hills?
What's the use of having money if not to enjoy life?
Yet even such a mansion couldn't bring Benjamin any good mood. Standing in the kitchen in his bathrobe, he was elegantly and slowly handling the at on the cutting board with a kitchen knife. Each slice aligned with the muscle's grain, marinating with sauce before sending it into the oven.
The skill was rivaling that of a top chef.
While cooking, he didn't forget to converse with the Soviet holographic projection before him.
"I've told you, it's not that I'm not supplying you goods. You're unable to resolve Horizon Corporation's issues, and my goods can't be shipped out. They're piling up in Dog Town, so if you have the skill, transport them out."
After speaking, he couldn't be bothered with these unreasonable Soviets and directly cut off the communication.
God knows how angry the other side would be.
No one expected a massive mafia rooted in Night City's network for years, and a world-renowned corporate giant now being manipulated by a newly erging company in Night City.
Regarding Soviet Petrochemical's affair, neither Military Tech nor Kangtao took a side. Their legal teams weren't here to be blades for Lin Miao. The businesses involved didn't touch on cyber prosthetics smuggling, so they rely watched the fun with a spectator's mindset.
The tax issue in Night City is indeed quite subtle.
Because taxes are the governnt's responsibility, not corporate managent's responsibility.
Being a city controlled by corporations, the Night City Council's power is negligible in front of these multinational enterprises. The companies pay taxes rely for this puppet governnt they support to manage the city for them. The council wouldn't dare investigate these companies' taxes even if they were evading taxes.
Therefore, upon closer inspection, one might find that these companies' tax rates in Night City could be subtly as low as one or two percent, and most of the money would enter the pockets of council mbers.
But the problem lies right here.
Now the company under tax investigation is Soviet Petrochemical. The company may be grand, but Night City has no connection whatsoever with this outsider, hence smuggling and tax evasion checks are reasonable.
Military Tech and those companies didn't add insult to injury, which already gave you enough face.
Thus began a direct battle between Horizon Corporation and Soviet Petrochemical.
But luckily, Night City in faraway California wasn't under the influence of Soviet Petrochemical's reach; their capacity here is limited. Otherwise, given their temperant, they'd blow Lin Miao and the corporate building together with a 480 cannon.
He's not a simple man; he's not here for money.
Benjamin Parker had seen many people before, but Lin Miao and his underlings' kind—those unprincipled, unemotional, and unconcerned about profits—was a first. They felt like a group of lawless cyberpsychotics, doing whatever ca to mind, disregarding cost and consequence, satisfied before anything else.
The more he thought of that man, the more agitated Benjamin's hand with the kitchen knife beca, slicing the at faster and faster with even the motions nearly creating afterimages until the apartnt's service personnel spoke through the doorbell.
"Mr. Benjamin, a Mr. Zheng is visiting downstairs."
He slowly put down the knife and wiped his hands with a towel
"He's my guest. Let him co up."
Soon, a young Asian man walked into the apartnt, carrying a travel bag in one hand.
If Lin Miao were present, he would be surprised to recognize the man as Kangtao's Zheng Shichang.
Yet his face no longer bore the composure from the banquet, replaced by emotions like guilt, anxiety, and fear, with beads of sweat constantly trickling down his forehead, falling into the depths of hell.
Zheng Shichang cautiously placed the travel bag on the kitchen counter and withdrew his hand rapidly.
"Mr. Benjamin, these are the goods needing disposal this ti."
"Oh?"
A trace of amusent flashed in Benjamin's eyes
"Didn't expect it would be so quick this ti. Seems you quite enjoy that feeling."
Seemingly triggered by the other's words, a hint of excited blush appeared on Zheng Shichang's pale face, but he dared not directly answer the question.
"Ha... hahaha... you're kidding."
"Have a seat, dinner will soon be ready, and you're sothing of a rare guest."
He extracted the baking tray from the oven, even through the foil, the aroma of at and the sound of sizzling oil could be sensed.
But facing such delicious food, Zheng Shichang's stomach churned, nearly causing him to vomit.
Upon seeing his reaction, Benjamin appeared sowhat displeased
"This dinner is a loud little lamb, a precious ingredient, not commonly seen."
Zheng Shichang dared not vomit, forcibly swallowing everything back. He sat obediently on the chair, waiting for the Ripper to present dish after dish, roast at, baked liver, cold marinated lung slices....
While dividing the food, Benjamin spoke slowly
"The reason for inviting you today is mainly for two matters I seek your assistance on, I trust you won't refuse?"
Zheng Shichang did not speak, his gaze fixated upon the all-at feast on the table.
From the first person he killed during a cyberpsychosis outbreak, Zheng Shichang had already stepped into an irrevertible hell.
Seeing Zheng Shichang unresponsive.
Benjamin sat back in his seat, wiping his palm with a cloth, cutting the oil-seeping roast with a knife
"Do you know what's the most important thing in life, Mr. Zheng?"
"....."
Zheng Shichang, drenched in sweat, slightly opened his mouth but couldn't utter a word
"It's timing."
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