The standardized buildings that comprised the slum district were all state-owned low-rent housing, a design maximizing spatial utilization—though spaciousness, light, air, and scenery were conspicuously absent. The designer's sole guiding principle, hammered home repeatedly by bloated superiors who were themselves stuffed with more authority than substance, was: "I *** only have one requirement for your design plan: cram as many people into it as humanly possible! Stuff, stuff, stuff!! Pack them in until not even a postage stamp could squeeze in sideways! To hell with artistry, aesthetics, and comfort! Even if you built this place like a presidential suite, these poor bastards living here wouldn't fork over a single extra cent!" It was said that two hundred and thirty design proposals were submitted, and the winning bid came from an obscure designer whose only advantage, allegedly, was referencing the architectural layout of Tokyo during its peak density on ancient Earth… Thus, all residential zones in the North Sector looked exactly the same. One should be familiar with modern poultry farms; the buildings there resembled chicken coops—their sole aim being to house the maximum number of birds per square meter. Furthermore, given the need for durability and practicality in construction materials, they were uniformly black, earning the North Sector the moniker: the Black Chicken Coops. The massive conveyor system didn't extend to the North Sector because its cost was non-trivial. Fang Senyan and Old Charlie stepped off the main belt into an area of significant chaos and noise, buzzing almost like a vegetable market. People of all descriptions plastered on deceitful smiles engaged in conversation, though the actual topics were deeply veiled or utterly nonsensical. Fang Senyan, for instance, overheard someone ask, "How much for two eggs?"

OK, the question might sound odd, but it appeared normal enough. The response, however, was far from it. Another voice replied: "Forty ears..."

Only later did Fang Senyan grasp the meaning through Old Charlie’s "translation": the "eggs" referred to hand grenades, and "ears" were a local flatbread, baked to resemble an ear shape. Such bizarre coded dialogue was comparable to the secret passes used by bandits before the Liberation, like exchanging "Sky King Covers Earth Tiger" for recognition.

As Old Charlie guided Fang Senyan deeper into this district, Fang Senyan noticed how easy it was to get lost due to the monotonous architecture. Every building looked identical, set against a backdrop of bustling crowds with various skin tones. Moreover, a multitude of peculiar gazes fixed upon them—gazes tinged with doubt, envy, confusion, disgust, and rage... Fang Senyan felt most of these stares were directed at his unfamiliar face. Fortunately, he had changed clothes before leaving, or the feeling of being scrutinized might have been far more intense.

Nevertheless, Fang Senyan walked with an air of unconcern, ignoring the stares, while Old Charlie remained quietly tucked into his coat and hat, never even lifting his eyelids. Only after Old Charlie snapped the fingers of two pickpockets under the age of ten were they able to proceed unhindered.

Soon, Fang Senyan finally spotted a building that looked different, although the difference was marginal: it was simply a stalled construction site. To enter, both Fang Senyan and Old Charlie had to pay an entrance fee of thirty Imperial Credits, which possessed a purchasing power roughly equivalent to three hundred Yuan Renminbi.

Once inside the skeletal structure, Old Charlie finally broke his silence: "Master, this is the best place for what you wished to experience. Someone will bring food shortly. After eating, there should be a black market auction later today, and then we can probably head back."

Fang Senyan nodded and smiled: "An auction? Then I must check if I brought enough cash. You know, the wealthiest magnates often originate right here in the slums."

Fang Senyan’s statement was not without basis. There was a strange phenomenon where highly educated individuals often ended up working for those with less formal schooling. Steve Jobs was an orphan raised in a slum orphanage before adoption, and Thaksin Shinawatra, the Thai Prime Minister who could afford to buy an English Premier League team, came from a humble merchant family. Therefore, underestimating the underground black market of the slums could indeed lead to a rude awakening.

While speaking with Old Charlie, Fang Senyan was led deeper inside and realized the derelict exterior was just a facade. The interior had been renovated into quite a respectable small theater, complete with private boxes offering a commanding view of the street below... Though the street itself offered little to see, looking down upon the slow-moving, expressionless crowds instilled a gratifying sense of superiority.

Not many people were seated when they arrived in their box. Shortly after, food began to arrive. First came a steamer basket of piping hot pastries, though crudely prepared; they possessed a faint aroma but lacked refinement in texture. These were made from ground cassava flour, mixed, fermented, and steamed. They were neither hard nor soft, and were meant to be dipped into the accompanying sauce, a concoction called nyama meat gravy, made from chicken, beef, or perhaps other animal stock.

Old Charlie warned Fang Senyan against dipping too much into the gravy, explaining that due to population expansion, essential goods were often in short supply, meaning the meat used for the sauce could very well be rat meat. Fang Senyan, however, held no such reservations, as long as he didn't find any stray hairs or organs.

Next was a fruit presentation that Fang Senyan found equally novel. About the size of a grapefruit, the top was sliced off, and then several drops of soy sauce were poured inside. It was eaten with a small spoon, offering a wonderfully crisp and refreshing taste; the combination of soy sauce and the pulp created a truly unique flavor.

After eating, they were served a final glass of a reddish-brown liquor called Hanise.

According to Old Charlie’s briefing, on the eighth star of the Andromeda galaxy, a unique fruit grew on the Hanise tree in the peculiar northern climate. Every spring and early summer, the locals harvested the fruit, extracted the pulp, and subjected it to sweetening and fermentation. The extracted Hanise liquor was then aged in oak barrels for two years to mature. Finally, the matured liquor was perfectly blended with fresh cream, resulting in this beverage known for its smooth texture and distinct flavor.

Fang Senyan took a sip. It was thick and sweet. As he drank, his tongue tip first registered the milky sweetness, then the taste buds on the sides detected a slight bitterness akin to coffee, and finally, as the liquid reached his throat, he felt a passionate warmth.

While Fang Senyan was eating, the theater seats filled up to nearly three-quarters capacity. A very thin man with a waxed mustache walked to the center, performed a salute by tipping his hat, and announced: "Gentlemen, we have just received word that a personage of high standing is visiting this den of vice and opportunity. Security lockdowns are expected soon, so we won't keep anyone waiting. We shall commence this auction immediately."

With a dull thud of a gavel, the first items were brought out: three women—completely nude. Although Fang Senyan was an adult male, with Zi serving as his benchmark, his standards were decidedly higher, and he dismissed these common wares immediately.

What followed were the usual contraband items: drugs, weapons, and the like, which lulled Fang Senyan into a near doze. Thankfully, the auction soon shifted to specialty goods smuggled from various planets. Fang Senyan was astonished to see an Unknown Artifact listed among the items, a high-grade piece worth five Merit Points apiece! This artifact originated from the eighth planet in the Centaurus constellation, a world with such high atmospheric density that biological movement there resembled swimming underwater. On that planet lived a creature with few natural predators, called the 'Elephant Whale.' The Unknown Artifact Fang Senyan acquired was a remnant from a temporal rift created when another parallel world began overlapping the primary dimension, with the entry point landing squarely on that planet. An Elephant Whale was struck by the resulting spacetime fissure, dying instantly, but its massive tusk, for some unknown reason, survived the terrifying turbulence. In terms of pure economic value, the jagged, battered object was worthless, but to Fang Senyan, it was priceless. Fortunately, no one else competed with him for it, and he secured it without effort.

The next item auctioned elicited both laughter and disbelief from Fang Senyan, yet the bidders were frantic to acquire it, spending lavishly. What was being sold was an edited video compilation! The footage was none other than a first-person recording, shot through Old Charlie's eyes, documenting their entire ordeal on the planet Eplos. Of course, the combat sequences were cut out for fear of alarming potential investors, focusing instead on highlighting the planet’s abundant mineral wealth and its natural environment. This recording fetched an exorbitant price, which certainly proved the event's organizers possessed remarkable influence to procure such material.

The grand finale, however, stunned everyone present. What was presented was a miniature, single-soldier combat mech—and a standardized model used by the military! Although its listed amplification factor was only seven times, it appeared brand new, and all its weaponry was intact; this was definitely not a stripped-down version! Clearly, nine out of ten people in the room desired this item. Who wouldn't want increased firepower at their disposal? But just as the crowd surged with excitement, a hoarse voice boomed out assertively: "I’ll take that. Send it over to me." RQ