"..."
John was silent for a moment, then pulled out a hemostatic stick from his coat and tossed it over.
The sound of sirens approached from the distance.
The roar of the motorcycles skimmed through the industrial district's streets and alleys,
the dawn and factory smoke acted like a filter draped over Eden City.
Through the high-tech prosthetic eye, all he saw was a mess.
John didn't kill Amade.
This person was just a scatter supplier.
Left hand as a farmer, right hand with the company dogs of Eden City, seemingly eating from both ends, but in reality, just a high-level worker.
[Eden City - Radiant Dust Farm]
John discarded the stinky street racing gang jacket, retrieved his stashed gear, and crossed the elevated layer.
The mercenaries didn't block him.
The sky gradually brightened.
The battlefield needed cleaning.
The mercenaries, positioned on the front line, had the inherent right to the first round of spoils.
After all, this was at the farmer's doorstep.
