Chapter 24: Illegal Psychic!

At noon the next day, Zhou Yun finally dragged himself out of bed.

He rubbed his dark circles, washed his face with recycled water from the pipe, and shook off his lethargy.

The gang battle last night had raged until the small hours, with shouts, gunshots, and moans never ceasing.

But by the end, only the faint groans of the dying remained.

Zhou Yun rubbed his temples, forcing himself to focus a little.

He stood behind the door, peering through the narrow window—just one finger’s width—onto the street.

Corpses. The entire street was littered with them: some from local gangs, some from the Ark Gang, others from ordinary residents who hadn’t made it home in time.

Zhou Yun blinked.

He noticed a group of people in linen robes, their faces painted with inked symbols of spaceships trailing fire, hauling away yesterday’s dead.

Like diligent worker bees.

“The Ark Gang?”

Zhou Yun frowned.

These were Ark Gang members—collecting corpses? Quite the civic conscience.

Had the Ark Gang won last night’s fight?

He’d just supplied the local gangs with three hundred automatic infantry rifles—yet they collapsed overnight?

That’s pathetically weak.

He pulled the Psychic Hat from his fourth-dimensional pocket and placed it on his head.

Then he focused his attention on his eyes, staring at the Ark Gang members outside.

Their linen robes, their skin and flesh—all laid bare before Zhou Yun’s gaze.

“They’re human.”

Confirming these low-level Ark Gang members were human, Zhou Yun exhaled slightly in relief.

He removed the Psychic Hat, opened the door, and stepped onto the street.

The Ark Gang members collecting corpses paid him no special attention, treating him as just another body in the crowd.

Even after last night’s battle, the hive-street remained packed.

Busy workers weaved through the narrow alleys.

The corpses on the ground were trampled over with near-numb indifference.

Many corpses, after hours of being stepped on, were half-sunk into the mud.

Gang warfare was common enough; the workers had long grown used to it.

As long as you were alive, you had to report to the factory.

Sometimes death wasn’t even the end of your shift.

In the galaxy, only the Emperor and work were eternal.

Zhou Yun noticed a gang member’s head on the muddy ground nearby, its occiput facing him.

A grotesque bullet wound gaped at its neck—clearly severed by gunfire.

Its muscles were shriveled and gray, the face partially visible, aged, with faint traces of the local gang’s emblem.

Under the constant trampling of passersby, the head was half-buried in the mud, like a foul, hard stone jutting from the earth.

“Move, make room for me.”

Zhou Yun waved his arms, forcing a space through the dense crowd.

He reached down, grabbed the head, and yanked it up from the ground.

Half its face was crushed to pulp, one eye dangling from its socket, flesh torn to reveal gleaming white bone.

Looking at the grotesque head, Zhou Yun shook his head—both disappointed and unsurprised:

“Definitely not that old dog, Lag.”

He glanced at the horrifying head in his hand.

“But even uglier than Lag.”

He tossed it casually into the bag of an Ark Gang member collecting corpses, to keep it from tripping pedestrians.

The Ark Gang member glanced at the head tossed into his bag, then bowed politely to Zhou Yun in thanks.

Zhou Yun watched the gesture, his eyelid twitching slightly.

The more pure-hearted these Ark Gang members acted, the more he suspected they were Gene-Thieves.

He looked down the street, sensing an odd atmosphere—

As if some unreal mist were drifting invisibly through the air.

“There’s residual psychic energy on the street,” the winged figure in Bai Guang whispered suddenly.

“Psychic energy.”

Zhou Yun froze, his frown deepening.

No wonder the local gangs collapsed overnight.

The Ark Gang had a psychic. That made them even more suspicious.

Zhou Yun shook his head and walked westward through the crowded street. Beyond the iron archway, he saw the massive statue of Saint Guilliman standing at the three-way intersection.

Many passersby knelt before the statue’s feet, praying devoutly.

Zhou Yun shook his head again, gazing toward the point where Saint Guilliman’s sharp spear pointed.

Old One-Eye’s tavern was open for business.

Zhou Yun pushed through the door and was met with a din of noise inside.

A half-drunk worker stood atop a table, loudly recounting last night’s events:

“The Ark Gang’s leader and his men stormed the local gang’s stronghold in just half a night.”

“But no one expected our local gang boss had three hundred automatic infantry rifles from Agrippina!”

The worker noticed the skeptical expressions around him:

“Don’t doubt me—I saw it myself last night. Exactly three hundred Agrippina Model-3 automatic infantry rifles. I saw PDF troops use them back when I was young.”

“After just two or three volleys, the Ark Gang suffered massive casualties—they couldn’t break through that last stronghold.”

He took a deep breath, his voice lowering:

“Then the Ark Gang’s leader stepped out—alone, unarmed.”

“She chanted the Holy Scripture—and every gang member holding an automatic rifle froze in place.”

“She raised her hands, raised her voice, and shouted: ‘Lay down your weapons!’ And every gang member dropped their rifles at once.”

“She declared: This is the Emperor’s punishment for the faithless. She has been blessed by the Emperor, founded the Ark Gang, and seeks to redeem the people of Asford from the demons of the stars.”

Listening to the worker’s boast, Zhou Yun sat at the tavern’s bar and looked at Old One-Eye.

Old One-Eye wiped a glass and poured Zhou Yun a glass of bubbling, blood-red liquor.

“Did you find that notebook?” Old One-Eye asked, handing him the drink.

Zhou Yun took a sip and shook his head. “Not that easy. I didn’t even get into the Corpse Guild.”

That was the plain truth—he hadn’t gotten in.

Old One-Eye sighed. “If you can’t find it, then you can’t find it. It’s not easy.”

“If even you can’t find it, this job’s hopeless.”

He waved his hand, glancing at the worker still boasting on the table.

“What do you think?” Old One-Eye asked Zhou Yun.

“What’s it to us if gangs fight?” Zhou Yun gulped down more liquor.

Old One-Eye grinned, glanced warily around, then leaned close to Zhou Yun’s ear and whispered:

“Don’t be as clueless as them.”

“Didn’t you catch it? Psychic energy. The Ark Gang’s leader is an illegal psychic.”

(End of Chapter)