Chương 21: The Martial Artist

The Seventh Abyssal Hive welcomed a long-overdue clear day. Although the air was still laced with smog, it was noticeably more refreshing than usual. A full day had passed since the heart-stopping "fencing and anti-tracking" operation in the mid-level sector. After completely shaking off Smiling Tiger Voss's tail, Rowan had paid Old Gold his 700 Terra Credits and returned to his rented room for a massive, deep sleep.

When he woke up on the morning of the second day, he kept a low profile and paid a visit to the "Rustwater" trading post on Scrap Iron Street. Never put all your eggs in one basket. This was Rowan's ironclad creed. He disguised the two companion aquatic plants and a small, roughly five-pound chunk of premium giant crocodile meat as low-tier blind-box loot he had gotten lucky with, and sold them to the boss of Rustwater.

Although the boss was surprised by the quality of the two items, their small volume made him assume Rowan had simply stepped in dog shit and gotten incredibly lucky. Unlike Voss, he didn't make a huge fuss over it. After all, he had seen people pull far better alchemical materials before. One thousand five hundred Terra Credits. To the current Rowan, this sum was merely a drop in the bucket. But even a mosquito's leg is meat. Friday evening. The Seventh Abyssal Hive Underground Sewage Hub, Sector B-4.

This was the site of the largest and most chaotic underground bazaar in the entire Seventh Abyssal Hive, located deep within the lower levels. Every Friday, military-rejected defective goods, black-market magitech artifacts, and highly restricted potions with severe side effects—items that didn't dare circulate in the open—were laid out on stalls here like common cabbages. Beneath a dim, flickering neon light at the entrance of the bazaar stood a behemoth of a man, built like an iron tower.

Nearly two meters tall, he perpetually wore a grey mechanic's tank top stained with machine oil. His bulging muscle contours intertwined with the rugged, cold metallic structure of his cybernetic right arm, radiating an oppressive, suffocating aura of heavy industry. At this moment, he was flashing a set of white teeth, laughing heartily and exchanging banter with several vicious-looking black-market fixers.

"Old Scar, if you don't drop the price on that batch by twenty percent, I'm not taking it! My mechanical arm has a huge appetite lately!" Rad laughed loudly, slapping a fixer on the shoulder with such tremendous force he nearly sent the man to his knees. As the group laughed along obsequiously, Rad's left eye—which had been replaced by a micro-electronic eye radiating a cold blue light—suddenly blinked twice in a rhythmic pattern. This was his unique way of saying "hello."

Rad's hearty laughter didn't cease, but the micro-aperture of his electronic eye was covertly and frantically constricting to focus. His previously boisterous gaze swept over the lean silhouette emerging from the rain and fog, instantly flashing with a razor-sharp glint. It was Rowan. Rowan was still wearing his oversized hoodie. But under the scan of Rad's heavily modified D2-grade electronic eye, he acutely detected the anomaly. Rad stared intently at Rowan's straight spine and his steady, rock-solid footsteps.

Not only was there no sign of the weakness caused by mental overclocking, but Rowan's every movement subtly exuded a restrained yet lethal oppressiveness—like a feral beast from the wastelands! He knew his brother far too well!

"This kid... why does he feel like a completely different person?" Rad was deeply shaken. He knew Rowan was a survivor who relied on his brain and calculated schemes to scrape by in the underhive. Since when did he possess such purely physical, feral ferocity?

"Rad," Rowan called out in a low voice as he approached. Rad instantly dropped his cynical, playboy smile. Though rough on the outside, he was meticulous on the inside; he didn't ask a single question under the watchful eyes of the crowd. He threw an arm over Rowan's shoulder, deliberately let out a boisterous laugh, and dragged him away, leaving a few thugs who wanted to strike up a conversation scratching their heads.

"Come on, let's talk over there." Rad led Rowan into an extremely secluded, flooded dead-end alley. Only after confirming there were no surveillance cameras or listening devices around did he furrow his thick, dark eyebrows and speak. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"What the hell is going on with you, kid? The vitality and blood aura coming off you... Jesus, did you inject some life-draining black-market stimulant?" Rad's tone carried an unconcealed, harsh concern.

"Don't you dare joke around with your life right now!" Looking at his seemingly crude but incredibly sharp best friend, a trace of warmth flowed through Rowan's heart. In the entire Seventh Abyssal Hive, Rad was the only person he could trust implicitly. Back in the day, if Rad hadn't dragged him out of a loan-shark gang's basement with a back full of knife wounds, Rowan would have been dismantled for parts long ago.

"Relax. No illegal drugs," Rowan replied without over-explaining. He knew Rad was a smart guy; Rad knew better than anyone what to ask and what to leave alone. Rowan shot a vigilant glance toward the alley entrance. Then, reaching deep into his tactical backpack, he carefully pulled out a square box tightly wrapped in dark grey synthetic material.

"For you." Rowan shoved the box into Rad's massive mechanical palm.

"What the hell is this? Acting all mysterious..." Rad muttered, his finger pressing lightly against the latch of the sealed box. With a sharp hiss, the pneumatic lock disengaged, and the box popped open just a fraction. In that exact instant. Rad's cybernetically enhanced olfactory receptors instantly caught a wild, heavy, yet incredibly pure scent of blood! Snap! Rad's massive body jolted. He slammed the box shut instantly.

His normally stable electronic eye was now flashing red frantically, like it was short-circuiting.

"This... This is pure, natural mana-beast meat?! And this level of mana bio-activity..." Rad suppressed his shock.

"Are you insane? Which Consortium executive's private ecological park did you rob? If they trace this back to you, even I won't be able to save your ass..."

"The origin is absolutely clean. No one can trace it," Rowan interrupted calmly, his eyes incredibly serious.

"How are the preparations for your Martial Artist Ascension coming along?" Hearing the words "Martial Artist Ascension," Rad's towering figure stiffened. A solemn expression washed over his face. Looking at Rowan's unreserved eyes, he finally took a deep breath, smiled bitterly, and shook his head.

"I'm not exactly confident. After all, you know how absurdly high the risks of a Martial Artist Ascension are..." Rad leaned against the cold, damp brick wall, fished a cheap synthetic cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag.

"I hang out with these idiots in the underhive every day, screaming 'Flesh is weak, mechanical ascension is supreme!' But we all know the truth. The upper limit of a cybernetic implant is forever determined by the strength of the flesh it's attached to. If you don't become a true 'Single-Mark Martial Artist,' you'll always just be a crippled half-ironman." Rad patted his cold, heavy mechanical right arm. Rowan listened quietly. He knew the cruel reality of Terra's martial artist system.

A mage's etching was performed on the surface layer of the Source Crystal Core. But a martial artist had to etch a [Mark] onto the inner layer of their core—a process a hundred times more dangerous. Failure meant only one thing: death.

"This D2-grade cybernetic limb has already pushed my current physiological limits to the absolute breaking point. Trying to wield martial artist gear with a mortal body is just too damn hard. For the past half-month, severe rejection reactions have kept me awake all night, in so much pain I want to smash my head against the wall." Rad exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, a terrifying, violent glint flashing in his electronic eye.

"I can't stop. I have to get stronger.

"I've taken on several major missions for the Explorer's Guild over the past six months. Combined with my previous savings, I've finally scraped together enough contribution points to secure a medium-quality Mana Primordium. This weekend, I'm going to attempt the first phase of the 'Martial Artist Ascension.'" Rad looked down at the heavy box in his hand.

"The Inner-Etching Fluid used for martial enhancement is violently tyrannical. It's like a cocktail of pure acid. But with this highly active premium beast meat... its mana will perfectly nourish and protect my cells..." Rad didn't say 'thank you.' He simply, silently tucked the box into the innermost layer of his mecha-liner, pressing it against his chest. Between brothers like them, 'thank you' was the cheapest word.

"By the way." Rad swiftly reined in his emotions, reverting back to the posture of a rugged, seasoned veteran. He reached out and patted Rowan's shoulder, his tone turning serious.

"Next week is the final monthly mock exam for high school. It's basically the final baseline test. I heard they're giving some seriously good rewards to the top five. That bastard Julian has been keeping an incredibly high profile at school lately. I heard... the Sterling family managed to get him a military-grade 'Magitech Exoskeleton Armor.' Once he powers that thing up, combined with his mana as a Single-Phase Mage, he could probably tear a full-grown Crypt Spider apart with his bare hands."

"Magitech Exoskeleton?" Hearing this, a cold, slightly cruel smirk curled Rowan's lips. He felt the ceaseless vitality of the Source Crystal Core beating within his left chest, and the terrifying physical strength he had accumulated from devouring the flesh of otherworldly high-tier mana-beasts. True power never came from a shell worn on the outside.

"Let him wear it," Rowan said indifferently, his eyes as profound as a starless night.

"The thicker the iron plating, the crisper the sound it'll make when it's smashed." Seeing the absolute, unshakeable confidence in Rowan's eyes, Rad froze for a second before bursting into a deep, unbridled roar of laughter.

"Hahaha! Good boy! Now that sounds like the ruthless bastard who used to eat mutant rat brains raw in the sewers!" Rad threw an arm roughly around Rowan's shoulders. His metallic right arm erupted with an ear-piercing roar, like a behemoth awakening.

"Let's go! To the bazaar!" Taking massive strides, Rad dragged Rowan toward the deafening noise of the underground market.

"Today, I'm gonna show you what a real black market looks like! You just point out whatever you want. No matter how stubborn the boss is, even if I have to put a knife to his throat, I'm hacking that price down for you today!" Amidst the flickering neon lights and the pungent smell of machine oil, the two silhouettes—one towering, one lean—plunged into the chaotic, sprawling bazaar.