The truck sped forward, and Jing Shu's mouth gradually fell open. Damn, this really was like a small city carved straight out of a mountain. Sure, Qian Duoduo's stone garden was no worse, but this underground city had its own kind of badass charm.
For one thing, the stone garden had been built block by block with stone, while this place had been dug directly into the mountain itself. What used to be a warehouse had now been transformed into rows of light steel houses, almost indistinguishable from the villas above ground. The environment wasn't bad either.
"Hey, this is the new city built by those hundreds of damned middle-class families. They literally moved their homes down here. Yeah, it's damp during the rainy season, but at least there's no rain beating down on you. This place is the most badass spot in Sacramento. What's even crazier is that the underground black market has two levels. The noble families live on the top floor, while this one's where mercenaries and commoners mix. They say the first floor is 'heaven' itself, but unfortunately, I've never been in."
Jing Shu nodded. Voices echoed loudly here, but the space didn't feel oppressive. The ceiling was at least ten meters high, and above that was another layer.
Still, it felt dangerous. The earthquake was still shaking everything, and even inside the mountain, the tremors never stopped. If the ceiling ever collapsed, everyone below would be buried alive. This underground black market wasn't just shady, it was risky as hell.
The truck rolled into the parking lot and paid one black market coin, the local currency down here. Beyond that was a sprawl of packed houses, and the crowd was deafening. People shouted in rapid-fire English that Jing Shu, a hopeless student, couldn't understand.
Everyone was armed with something: machetes, pistols, axes, hammers, shotguns. Some even wore leather armor or bulletproof vests. The groups of two or three clustered together were clearly mercenaries.
Stalls lined the market. Nobody cared about race here—Chinese, Mexican, Black, White, all mingled. Some stalls sold weapons, some food, some even sold slaves. It was basically a roaring open-air bazaar.
"Alright, boys, get your eating tools ready. Time to show what you're made of. Out here, you've gotta act like the meanest sons of bitches around. Fierce, fiercer, fiercest!" Xiao Hei bared his teeth and made a vicious face.
Jing Shu: …
"In the black market, you can't just pull a gun or a weapon on someone. Fighting and killing aren't allowed. But if there's a dispute, as long as you put down the coins, you can challenge and kill anyone. The survivor takes everything the other side owned. Of course, if you don't want to be challenged, just pay double and you'll be safe. Damn vampire rules. You can keep challenging someone until they're broke, but if they've got nothing left, what's the point? Vampires, the lot of them."
Jing Shu picked up her cooking pot, then thought better of it. She quickly swapped it out for the gear she'd painstakingly chosen for this trip.
With her strength, the best option was a spiked mace—intimidating and dangerous at first glance. Anyone would think twice before messing with her. But carrying that giant club around everywhere was way too much trouble, especially since she couldn't stash it in the Cube Space.
So instead, she slung a multi-shot crossbow on her back, strapped a steel machete behind her, and tucked a pistol at her waist. It looked a little mismatched, but at least her combat power was obvious. In a place like this, she wasn't taking chances—she even put on a bulletproof helmet.
Ding. Your Chinese Auntie has logged in.
Tank's gear was even more over-the-top. He carried a giant shield and wore a bulletproof vest, lugging around a heavy machine gun. He dragged two massive iron balls across the ground, the grating noise making everyone wince. People turned to glare, but the moment they saw Tank's towering two-meter frame, bulging muscles, and all those guns strapped to him, their anger fizzled out instantly.
Monkey and Snake Spirit were much simpler. Aside from their pistols, Jing Shu didn't spot any other weapons—probably because their real trump cards were hidden.
As for Ling Ling, she had a sniper rifle and an assault rifle, along with her custom gloves and monocle. Female assassin was the first phrase that popped into Jing Shu's head.
The dimly lit market hummed with activity. Ling Ling's stylish, cute look drew plenty of greedy and lusty stares, but when she casually leveled her rifle at them and mimed a "bang bang" gesture, those gazes quickly vanished.
"Hey, if you wanna kill someone here, you'd better do it through a duel. If you kill outside of a duel, the black market keeps the victim's belongings, and you'll be punished by the nobles. Unless, of course, you cough up enough coins. At the end of the day, if you've got money, you can do whatever the hell you want."
Rules were just shackles for the poor.
"The black market doesn't care what power you belong to. As long as you complete missions, you can be a mercenary. You can be a spy from another country and nobody will bat an eye. But you've gotta show real strength at all times. There's an old Chinese saying about 'playing the pig to eat the tiger,' but it doesn't work here. Because down here, it's not just tigers and elephants—there are also swarms of ants ready to strip you to the bone." Xiao Hei explained cheerfully while trading words in English with a few vendors.
"Hey, buddy, today's slaves—where'd you snatch them from?"
"Damn, you heartless maggot, still selling bug-based food?"
Jing Shu took in the market with curiosity. Compared to the slums, this place was better off, but everyone carried weapons. Not far ahead, a fight broke out and quickly escalated into a duel, overseen by the market guards.
One man hurled an axe, splitting his opponent's skull open in an instant. The fight lasted only a few seconds. The victor stripped the dead man of everything, even his clothes, while guards dragged the bloody corpse away.
Xiao Hei leaned close and whispered, "They feed the corpses to poultry. Those heartless maggots even serve human meat in the cafeteria, though they claim it's rat meat. I once saw a finger, nails and all. And get this—there's a new wine called Freshly Squeezed Human Blood Juice. It's blood from these corpses mixed with alcohol. Tastes pretty good, or so I've heard. If you're lucky, you'll even get some meat chunks in it. Next time, I'll take you guys to try it."
Jing Shu silently thanked Yang Yang for insisting they bring their own food. She'd wondered before, in a food-rich country like America, why they still needed to pack their own supplies. Couldn't they just raid places along the way and live off war spoils? Now, she understood.
Down here, the bottom feeders ate anything, while only the top enjoyed endless luxuries.
===
"Playing pig to eat the tiger" (扮猪吃虎 / bān zhū chī hǔ) is a Chinese idiom that literally means pretend to be a pig in order to eat the tiger.
It describes a strategy of hiding one's true strength, intelligence, or intentions by appearing weak, harmless, or foolish, only to strike when the opponent underestimates you.
Pig (猪): In Chinese culture, pigs are seen as clumsy, harmless, and unintelligent.
Tiger (虎): Represents strength, fierceness, and dominance.
The idea is paradoxical: a "pig" could never defeat a tiger—but if the pig is only pretending, it can lure the tiger into lowering its guard, then reveal its hidden power.