Chapter 13: Boss of the Sand Squad

Among the Quicksand Team, the one called "boss" should be only one.

Baimu used to think so.

But now he realized that the highest-ranking officer leading the Sand Squad, Cang Zhi Lang, was also called "boss" by those under him, not "squad leader."

The problem was serious.

Though it was merely a form of address, it seemed to carry a meaning akin to "the lord of my lord is not my lord."

He hoped he was overthinking it, but the deeper he dug, the more he felt the Quicksand Team's ship was swaying on the brink, liable to capsize at any moment…

He hoped the Quicksand Team would still be standing by the time he grew strong enough.

The fox-like man led Baimu inside, and when they reached a freight elevator, he suddenly turned and said, "I'm Liu Ge."

"Hello."

Baimu replied softly, keeping Coco Dora in his peripheral vision. Seeing that it was only curiously eyeing the metal objects around them, he set his mind at ease.

Pokémon were beings with human-like intelligence, but often their reason wasn't enough to suppress their instincts — the instinct for violence, the instinct to breed, and the instinct to feed.

Although he'd fed Coco Dora before leaving, if it couldn't resist the urge and lunged to gnaw on so much ironware, that would be trouble.

Liu Ge pressed the switch, and the elevator started, slowly descending.

He glanced at Baimu and Coco Dora, who was pressed neatly against his ankle, utterly obedient, and opened his mouth to ask:

"Did you bring it out from the examination site?"

"Mm, I figured it was a kind of fate, so I tried to catch it."

"What about the one the team distributed?"

"I swapped it for a monetary subsidy. I was worried I'd lack the experience for my first time raising one."

"Heh… you've got some self-awareness there. A lot of people get their first Pokémon and immediately want a second, and end up unable to take care of either." He pulled a smile.

Creak.

The elevator reached the bottom.

A vast, expansive underground space suddenly appeared before Baimu — makeshift tin shacks piled layer upon layer, colorful neon lights illuminating the gloom, steel bars and pillars running top to bottom, discarded iron crates and wire-mesh partitions scattered everywhere.

It looked exactly like the slum districts from certain sci-fi games.

【The Undercity】.

The complete dark side of Rusty Iron Town — paradise for gangs, hell for the poor. If the surface still had a police station that existed in name only, then the Undercity belonged entirely to the gangs.

Whoever's fist was bigger set the rules.

Baimu hadn't been down here many times himself — it was dangerous and there was no need. He'd never been the type to court death since he was a child.

Just as he stepped forward to look around, Liu Ge beside him pushed up the glasses on his nose. "I like rational people. If you don't mind, come with me?"

"Eh?"

Baimu was stunned, about to say something, when the person who had greeted him for check-in yesterday came over.

"Oh oh oh, you're pretty early. At your age I was already— oof! Master Liu Ge! Good morning!"

That person's eyes went wide, he stood ramrod straight and saluted.

"Good morning to you too." Liu Ge waved, then turned to look at the surprised Baimu. "As you can see, I'm an officer of the Sand Squad, recruiting new blood."

"My apologies for earlier—"

"Hey! Don't say that useless stuff. The boss is still waiting for you, hurry on." Liu Ge gave his shoulder a push.

Baimu could only follow behind that person, continuing inward together with Coco Dora.

Below the highest-ranking officer of the Quicksand Team came the officers — that is, the squad captains, each in charge of ten small squads of ten members each. In other words, Liu Ge commanded a hundred full members.

The Sand Squad had an officer that young?

He thought it over carefully, then suddenly recalled some Sand Squad gossip someone had once told him — about a man who inherited his dead father's position and, within a single month, defeated every challenger who refused to submit.

That had to be him.

Though his starting hand was far better than Baimu's own, being able to reach that level was still impressive.

Liu Ge's situation back then, having lost his patron, must have been extremely difficult.

"Hey, you're pretty close with Master Liu Ge?"

The guide interrupted his thoughts.

"No, we just met. I was lucky enough to exchange a few words." Baimu shook his head, having no intention whatsoever of borrowing a tiger's skin to inflate his own banner. On the contrary, he was a little worried he'd been too impolite just now and might have earned a grudge.

— That kind of thing was all too common in Rusty Iron Town. One of his colleagues had forgotten to salute a full member and got worked over for it.

He covertly swept his gaze around. There weren't many people in the Undercity, and the few who appeared only watched in silence.

Only, unlike the gazes up on the surface — laced with jealousy and mockery — most of these gazes were curious, and friendlier.

The very few whispers he caught were hard to make out, but they didn't seem to be anything bad.

"Then you're really lucky. Master Liu Ge rarely takes the initiative to invite anyone. Their squad has great benefits and a great atmosphere." The guide's eyes held no small amount of envy.

Baimu smiled politely. "Then I really have to thank you, brother. Without your reminder I wouldn't have come today either."

"Hahaha, kid, you've got a sweet mouth. Go on, the boss is inside."

The guide patted his back, pointing at a tin shack directly ahead.

Deafening music and thudding thump-thump-thump sounds kept pouring out from inside, as if something was being pummeled — quite terrifying.

Baimu turned to glance at Coco Dora. Seeing its expression was unchanged, he walked in slowly.

The moment he stepped through the door, his view opened wide.

He found himself in a place resembling a boxing arena — a massive octagonal cage, blazing incandescent lights, screens playing footage one after another.

Speakers all around blared raucous, blood-stirring music, like a lively match venue.

However, there were no spectators in the boxing arena.

Only a hulking man nearly two meters tall and a muscular Machoke, the two of them standing inside the octagonal cage, throwing punches and dodging at each other. Though both wore boxing gloves, the meaty thud of every blow was still terrifying.

All Baimu watched for half a minute before seeing Machoke suddenly drive a fist into the burly man's gut; the latter spat out a mouthful of blood-flecked saliva and his mouthguard with a *puh*, dropping to his knees on the ground, gasping without pause.

"……"

He tugged at the corner of his mouth and exchanged a glance with the Machoke across from him; the latter stood in place and tilted its chin toward the burly man's direction.

A look that said, *What are you waiting for? Get up here and lend a hand. *

All Baimu could only flip himself up, help the gasping, breathless burly man to a corner, and hand him Mao Jin and water.

The burly man accepted everything but kept his head lowered the whole time without once looking at him; only once his breathing steadied did he raise his head, revealing a pair of fierce, ruthless eyes, and said: "Who said you could get on the stage?"

All Baimu glanced sideways with his peripheral vision at the Machoke, who had turned its head aside, fists tucked behind its neck, whistling. "……Quicksand Team rules."

The burly man frowned. "Hm? How come I don't know about any team rules?"

"As a team member, you must protect the boss at the first opportunity." All Baimu's expression was perfectly even.

"Hmph!"

The burly man gave a cold laugh, stripped the gloves off his hands. "Sharp tongue. Put them on and go one round with it. If you last, I'll let your random stage-crashing slide."

"……Fine."

All Baimu picked up the gloves expressionlessly, feeling quite helpless inside.

At this point, how could he not understand he'd been set up? But he truly hadn't expected that a dignified highest-ranking executive would play such petty tricks—couldn't we just be straightforward about it? Listening to the rumors really was a mistake.

The awkward part was, he had absolutely no right to refuse.

Whether the other's intent was good or ill, that feeling of being unable to choose, of being unable to say no, was utterly miserable.

"This leg has only just healed, too."

He twisted his right leg. One round was generally three minutes, but given the offensive intensity Machoke had just displayed, lasting ten seconds was already a question.

Directly opposite.

Machoke swung its fists, producing a *whoosh* of cutting wind; not a trace of guilt for having tricked someone could be seen on its face, only a smile that could be called cruel.

But just as it was about to approach, a silver figure suddenly stood between the two of them.

"Grr!"

Mudkip let out a warning growl at Machoke.

"Ah! I'm such an idiot—how did I panic and forget about you?"

All Baimu crouched down in annoyance, patted Mudkip on the head. "It's fine, go wait below. It'll be over soon."

"Grr!"

Mudkip turned around and called out seriously.

As if saying Machoke was very dangerous, and he shouldn't trade blows with it head-on.

If only I could refuse…

All Baimu was about to try persuading it again when a terrifying gust of wind suddenly came from overhead, as if some object was approaching at extreme speed!

*Whoosh! *

The heavy fist missed!

Machoke turned its head in surprise toward All Baimu, who had rolled to one side; the latter held Mudkip in his arms, his expression stern, brows tightly knit.

"There are still uninvolved parties on the stage—has it already started?"

"Heh!"

Machoke smiled and beckoned with a finger.

The burly man drinking water in the corner spoke up: "It's letting the two of you come at it together. You're getting the bargain."