Chapter 5: The First Anchor Point

In the afternoon, Roger found an old-style arcade.

Most of the light bulbs on the sign were already broken, the words "Old John" flickering on and off. The moment he stepped inside, he could smell stale air mixed with the cloying cheesy scent of pizza and a faint stench from the old carpet.

Inside, row upon row of machines were crammed together, the space filled with intense electronic music, while the screens reflected faces—some focused, some listless.

This arcade was in a remote location; the ones who came to play were young men from the nearby lower-class white community, and few Black people came by, so it was a bit safer.

When Roger walked in, the old man behind the counter took off the hat covering his face to look at him, then put the hat back over his face.

Roger looked around, found an upright pinball machine in a corner, then took out that ancient god's bronze coin.

The coin was bottle-cap sized, very archaic, with tentacles and an octopus head embossed on the front and back, surrounded by an ouroboros encircling the reliefs.

Roger weighed it in his hand, then dropped it into the pinball machine, praying in his heart that he would get some useful reward.

And after the bronze coin entered the pinball machine, the music actually changed from an intense tune to a mournful, eerie one, and a faint mist appeared at some point around them, blocking out the disturbances of the outside world.

Then a bronze-colored steel ball dropped into the launch area, waiting for the man's operation.

Roger rubbed his hands together and yanked the plunger hard.

"Go!"

"Buzz!"

The launch area's gate moved aside, and the steel ball dropped, striking against the pegs.

"Ding-ding-dang-dang!"

Under Roger's expectant gaze, the steel ball ricocheted back and forth among the densely arranged pegs, arcing subtly toward the jackpot area, but just as it was about to drop in, it was grazed by a peg and knocked into the small prize area.

"Shit!"

Roger cursed.

Then a burst of cheerful music rang out, and immediately following, a small bottle of brownish-red medicinal oil actually dropped out of the prize chute.

【Bone Healing Oil: Apply to injured bone areas to accelerate recovery】

Looking at the viscous brownish-red liquid in the bottle, Roger raised an eyebrow and thought of Jose at once.

Speaking of which, if he healed that stray dog's leg, would Juan sincerely acknowledge him and become an Anchor Point?

The probability was high.

After all, Juan now completely regarded Jose as his lifeline.

Roger was quite certain that if anyone dared to lay a hand on Jose, Juan would fight them to the death.

Just like Keanu Reeves in John Wick whose beloved dog was killed.

After making his decision, he put the 25-cent coins he had gotten in change from breakfast that morning into the pinball machine, planning to figure out how this thing worked and see if there was any room to maneuver next time.

Fifteen minutes later.

"Bang!" Roger furiously slapped the pinball machine.

Damn it, 5 dollars thrown in and not even a consolation prize, fuck!

Looking at it this way, getting a small prize earlier was actually pretty good.

He flipped off the pinball machine, then slunk away under the gazes of several white young men.

"Never gambling again!"

……

At five in the afternoon, Juan finished work and headed toward his tent, covered in dust and smelling of rust.

On the way, he passed a small supermarket and, under the wary gaze of the owner, bought a vacuum-sealed German sausage for 5 dollars.

That was half his wages for the day, but to let Jose eat better, he was willing to spend the money.

But when Juan got back to the tent, he found a familiar figure squatting in the corner, using a hot dog in hand to feed the pit bull.

"Hey, Juan, you're back."

Roger spotted the travel-worn man first and waved a greeting.

For some reason, Juan during the day looked excessively normal—apart from a somewhat serious expression, he showed none of the mysterious, eerie manner of that night. In fact, because of hurrying on the road, his face was slightly flushed, feeling more alive.

But when Roger stared at his feet, he noticed that the man's gait was a bit awkward, as if he were injured.

And the pit bull Jose seemed to have caught his owner's scent too, licked the hot dog sausage, glanced at it reluctantly, then limped over to Juan's feet and circled around him.

"Roger, you're here again." Juan's gaze was somewhat complicated as he stared at the hot dog sausage in his hand.

Roger explained: "That was originally my dinner, but this guy Jose was craving it so badly I could only feed it to him."

Juan rubbed Jose's head with both hands: "You greedy thing."

Then he handed the German sausage in his hand to Roger: "Eat this, I just bought it."

"Thanks." Roger didn't stand on ceremony with him, tore open the packaging, and took a bite of the sausage.

Seeing him accept, Juan's expression eased slightly. He walked into the shack, plopped down on the ground, and. took out two paper-thin one-dollar pizza slices and a carton of milk from a kraft paper bag as his own dinner.

"Where did you go today?" Roger asked casually.

"Went to work." Juan's tone was slightly weary: "There's a junkyard hiring garbage haulers, do you want to go?"

"Although the pay is only half…" Juan patted his pocket, then corrected himself: "Fine, only a third."

"Being a blood bag for a vampire is better than working for a capitalist." Roger smacked his lips. Illegal immigrants, to make money, often had to take on the "3D jobs" that local residents were unwilling to do.

Dirty, dangerous, and degrading.

These jobs were not only time-consuming, exhausting, and life-threatening, but bosses often drove the price down ruthlessly and withheld wages.

What they relied on was simply that illegal immigrants didn't dare call the police.

But recently the Federal Government has been cracking down on illegal immigrants, and has even issued hefty fines to bosses who employ illegal immigrants.

So recently these 3D jobs weren't easy to find either.

Under these circumstances, still insisting on employing illegal immigrants could only mean that boss had big guts, or had connections with the local police station.

As for Jose's invitation, he shook his head: "Better forget it, the main reason I came this time was that I suddenly thought of something."

He said that, then took the bottle of medicinal oil from his pocket.

Juan's expression was puzzled.

"This is a Bone Healing Oil passed down in my family, specially for treating damaged bones."

Hearing this, Juan's expression first froze, then he asked in surprise: "Can it cure Jose's leg?"

"It should work." To be honest, Roger himself wasn't sure either — after all, the item description didn't clearly state what kind of damage could be healed.

But Bone Healing Oil was, after all, a system product, so it wouldn't be completely without effect.

"Is your family into traditional Chinese medicine?"

"?" Roger was a bit puzzled, not knowing why he had to bring that up.

Juan saw his confusion and explained: "I can tell you have Asian blood in you — Dongda, right?"

"That's right."

"I've been to Chinatown for acupuncture, and I even tried gua sha — that feeling was really amazing. I mean, your Dongda traditional Chinese medicine is just like witchcraft, you don't understand the principle but it's all miraculous."

It was the first time Juan had said so much; it seemed that because Jose's crippled leg now had hope of healing, it finally stirred something in his dead-still heart.

Roger hadn't expected stereotypes to be put to use like this, and said helplessly: "Alright then, let's use it for a few days first and see how it goes."

"How much?" Juan suddenly said seriously: "I can work to pay you back."

"What money talk!" Roger reached out and rubbed Jose's short, stubby little tail: "We're already friends, aren't we? And I really like Jose — it's just a small favor."

When he heard the word "friend," Juan's throat bobbed, as if there was something he wanted to say.

But in the end he swallowed the words back, wiped his hands on his clothes, then stretched one straight out.

Seeing this, Roger stretched his hand out as well.

When the two men's hands clasped together, Juan spoke:

"Thank you."

Juan's hand was large and strong, and the calluses on the web of his thumb were a bit rough to the touch.

Roger had just been about to speak when, the next second, a system prompt suddenly appeared.

【Jose's Recognition achieved, Anchor Point +1】

【Anchor Point effect: Physical Function +1, SAN Value shangxian +1】