Duel Arena
Behind the burly man with the prosthetic eye stood several high-ranking henchmen, including the Nepalese black marketeer.
His gaze swept the crowd below—sharp, calculating. It didn't take long before he spotted Li Qinwu.
Even in a sea of scrap-armored thugs, Li Qinwu stood out. His gray-green helmet, standardized and intact, was a stark contrast to the crude patchwork equipment around him.
The black marketeer leaned toward a subordinate, muttering in a low, foreign tongue before pressing something into his hand.
Moments later, the man slipped through the crowd and approached Li Qinwu.
"Sir Scavenger, the boss sends his regards."
He handed over a stack of fertilizer coupons.
"Your appearance fee. We march now—please join the assault on the Chemical Gang."
Li Qinwu took the money calmly, flipping through it with practiced fingers.
5,000. Exact.
He nodded and pocketed it.
"I'll take it."
The henchman straightened.
"I'll be your assistant. I'll be fighting alongside you."
Li Qinwu glanced at him once and immediately understood.
A watcher.
Payment like this always came with strings attached.
He took out a cigarette and handed one over.
"Name?"
"Xiaodao."
Li Qinwu lit his own cigarette, voice steady.
"Stay behind me. Count kills carefully. Your boss pays 300 for chemical dogs, 3000 for chemical pigs."
He exhaled slowly.
"Don't miss anything."
Xiaodao nodded.
"That's why I'm here."
---
The speech on the platform ended with a roar.
The Fertilizer Gang surged forward—over a thousand men moving like a collapsing wave of metal, flesh, and noise.
No formation. No discipline.
Just momentum.
Li Qinwu and Xiaodao followed behind.
"How many?" Li Qinwu asked.
"About 1,500 on our side," Xiaodao replied. "The Chemical Gang has more—but we've got better guns. And Boss Electric Eye… he has something prepared."
Li Qinwu didn't respond.
He didn't care about "secret weapons."
Only positioning.
---
They entered a massive underground structure.
A forgotten relic.
Strategic Warehouse S65.
Vast enough to swallow armies.
Terracotta-steel columns rose like pillars in a dead cathedral. Broken scaffolding, collapsed frameworks, and rusting containers formed a labyrinth of cover and kill zones.
This was no random battlefield.
This was a sanctioned slaughter ground.
The Underhive called it—
The Duel Arena.
---
While others waited, laughed, or shouted—
Li Qinwu moved.
Searching.
Calculating.
He spotted it quickly.
A damaged industrial crane, roughly ten meters tall. Its control cabin remained intact—reinforced glass, elevated sightlines.
Perfect.
"Come."
He led Xiaodao up.
Inside the cabin, Li Qinwu smashed out the front glass, clearing his firing arc.
He set up the PDF semi-automatic rifle.
Long barrel.
Stable platform.
In Underhive terms—it might as well be a precision weapon.
He handed Xiaodao a magazine and loose rounds.
"You reload. You count."
Xiaodao nodded.
---
Time passed.
Li Qinwu ate, drank, then slept.
Even here.
Even now.
Efficiency above all.
---
He woke to Xiaodao's voice.
"They're here."
---
Muscle Dog
The darkness ahead came alive.
Noise first.
Then movement.
Then numbers.
The Chemical Gang flooded in—over 5,000 strong.
Most were nothing more than addicts and expendables. Thin bodies, dilated pupils, erratic movements. Their veins bulged with chemical injections.
Unstable.
Unafraid.
Disposable.
Behind them came the real threat—
Enhanced enforcers.
Thick muscle mass. Metal plates crudely bolted into flesh. Weapons gripped with unnatural strength.
Combat stimulants.
Pain suppressants.
Possibly early-stage gene or chem corruption.
Crude, but effective.
---
At the center—
Two leaders faced each other.
Electric Eye.
And—
"Mom."
A pale, almost corpse-like woman. Her scalp was shaved clean except for a knotted topknot. A mechanical injector rig clung to the back of her skull, tubes filled with multi-colored fluids.
Not just a gang leader.
A chemical controller.
Possibly a minor heretek-aligned bio-modifier.
---
They shouted.
Insults.
Threats.
Meaningless noise.
Then—
The breaking point.
---
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
Someone screamed it.
Whether mockery or faith—no one cared.
---
The battlefield exploded.
Melee and gunfire collided instantly.
No tactics.
No retreat.
Only violence.
Bodies fell within seconds. The center became a mound of corpses almost immediately.
Someone planted a Fertilizer Gang flag atop it.
Others climbed it—
Fighting from elevation.
Shooting downward.
Dying faster.
---
From the crane—
Li Qinwu began firing.
Calm.
Measured.
Controlled.
One shot every few seconds.
"Blue container. 250 meters. Chemical dog."
"Seen."
BANG.
Headshot.
"Left side. Torch carrier."
"Seen."
BANG.
Neck hit. Collapse.
---
No wasted motion.
No emotional fluctuation.
Just execution.
---
Magazine empty.
6 confirmed kills.
1800 earned.
---
Reload.
Continue.
---
After three magazines—
Heat buildup.
Risk increasing.
Li Qinwu stopped.
"We move."
Xiaodao blinked. "Why?"
"We've been seen."
---
They relocated.
A kilometer out.
Container zone.
Quieter.
Safer.
---
Li Qinwu climbed first, pulling Xiaodao up.
Moments later—
The crane cabin they abandoned was shredded by incoming fire.
Heavy caliber.
Sustained suppression.
---
Xiaodao froze.
Cold sweat poured down his face.
Li Qinwu didn't even look back.
"Focus."
He laid prone.
Rifle steady.
"Keep counting."
---
And resumed firing.