Chapter Twenty-Five: The City of Godo

Though Godo City was under the control of the Alliance, it remained relatively obscure among its vast territories. Its continued existence could be credited to the iron-rich mountain to its north—a colossal ore deposit firmly controlled by the powerful Hilton Consortium.

The city, though not a major node in the Alliance's network, was flush with wealth due to its iron production. Its periphery was encircled by a towering wall, forged from thick iron pipes, welded into place with industrial precision. This formidable steel barricade far surpassed the defenses of Zone 64 in strength and resilience.

Once electrified, this iron wall could even repel attacks from Class-D magical beasts.

As the Viper Unit's armored vehicle rolled to a halt at one of Godo City's heavily guarded gates, a squad of soldiers stepped forward to question them.

Old White nonchalantly retrieved a few Alliance banknotes from his coat and handed them over.

The soldiers, without further inquiry, pocketed the currency and waved them through.

"First, we hit the black market. We're selling the vehicle," said Old White decisively.

"What? This vehicle is our treasure—we can't just sell it!" Ivy protested.

"We must sell it," he said with finality.

Viper Turner added, "He's right. If the Alliance troops recognize it, we'll be in serious trouble."

Old White clearly knew the layout of Godo City well. He gave directions, and Ivy drove the vehicle into an underground market just beginning to stir with life at dawn. In this secretive bazaar, a combat-ready vehicle like theirs was highly coveted.

Within twenty minutes, the vehicle had been sold to a merchant for 80,000 Alliance coins.

Viper, clutching the bulging sack of money, cast one last mournful glance at the armored vehicle before following the others out of the market.

Xiao Feng, White, Turner, Ivy, Alice, Cook, and Brann made for a conspicuous group—especially with Viper's menacing demeanor and the snake tattoo coiled across his forehead.

White turned to Turner and said, "Take my daughter to find a hotel and settle in. Xiao Feng and I are going to visit an old friend—see if he might shelter us."

Turner nodded in agreement. Ivy wrapped a comforting arm around Alice's delicate shoulders. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go."

Clutching her little white wolf, Alice looked softly at her father. "Come back soon, Daddy."

"I will," he promised.

With that, White and Xiao Feng disappeared into the throng of the black market.

Viper led the rest toward lodging. Cook, taking up the rear, carried a large travel bag filled with their last remaining weapons—two sniper rifles, three assault rifles, and a few handguns. His prized Browning heavy machine gun had been sold; it was too large, too conspicuous, and far too burdensome to transport.

White and Xiao Feng had another pressing task: selling the magical cores harvested from slain beasts. The G-class beast cores were especially valuable, and the proceeds were earmarked for Alice's eye treatment.

They stopped before an elderly vendor who looked to be in his sixties or seventies, an eye patch covering a deep, disfiguring scar. Before him lay a modest display of beast materials—gleaming cores, jagged horns, razor-sharp claws, and hardened beast-hide armor.

"You buy cores? G-class magical beasts?" White asked.

The old man puffed on his pipe, not bothering to raise his head. "I do. How many you got?"

"Eighteen," said White.

At that, the man looked up sharply. "Eighteen? How'd you get that many? What mercenary company are you with? Never seen you before."

White chuckled. "We're freelance hunters. It took a hell of a lot of blood and sweat to take down that many G-class beasts."

The old man snorted. "You're lucky bastards. I'll give you two thousand per core. Deal?"

White smiled knowingly. "Come on, old timer. We both know that's not the real price."

Even Xiao Feng understood the man was lowballing. A complete G-class beast could fetch ten thousand Alliance coins. The core alone usually sold for over four thousand.

Still puffing his pipe, the old man muttered, "Alright, name your price."

"I won't be greedy—four thousand apiece."

The old man waved dismissively. "Too rich for me. Forget it."

White turned away casually. "Fine. Let's go."

He and Xiao Feng had barely taken a dozen steps before the man called out, "Wait! Don't go just yet! Let's talk this through!"

They both grinned and returned to the stall.

"Three thousand eight hundred. I'll take every last one. Deal?"

White nodded. "Done."

He retrieved a small pouch from inside his coat and placed it on the table.

The old vendor eagerly opened the pouch and extracted a crystal-clear core. His eyes lit up like a man gazing upon a nude goddess. A lecherous grin spread across his weathered face. "What a beauty... splendid!"

"Now pay up," said White coolly.

"I don't have that much cash on hand. Want me to transfer the money? You got an Alliance bank account?"

White laughed. "Do I look like someone with a bank account? Cash only."

"Alright, alright. Wait here. I'll go get the money." The old man shuffled out from behind the stall and waved to a neighboring vendor. "Keep an eye on my booth, will ya? Don't let anyone steal my treasures!"

"What'd you get this time?" asked the neighbor with a smirk.

"I'll tell you when I'm back!"

The old man hobbled away. Xiao Feng frowned as he noticed the vendor's right leg—it was mechanical, clicking and whirring with each step.

"Uncle White... his leg."

"It's just a prosthetic. That old man was once a formidable hunter. Legend says he lost that leg fighting a Class-D magical beast."

"Class-D? But G-class beasts are already terrifying. A D-class must be a monster…"

"You'll meet one someday, Xiao Feng," White said solemnly. "And when you do, with your current strength, you'll have only one option—run for your life."