Once Ziye appeared, word spread quickly. In less than an hour, the onlookers had quadrupled, yet no one intervened; they merely trailed behind Ziye.

They closed in tighter, Ziye perfectly shielded by her two robots. Ironically, it was those staring intently at Ziye who stumbled and ended up kicking the people beside them.

The temper of these native inhabitants was not exactly mild.

The person who was stepped on immediately threw a punch.

The person struck grew enraged and retaliated.

Back and forth they went, escalating into a full-blown brawl.

Those who recognized the combatants rushed forward to lend aid, joining the fray.

Moments later, a chaotic melee erupted behind Ziye. Meanwhile, a few opportunistic individuals used the confusion to push closer to Ziye’s immediate vicinity...

Ziye heard intermittent cries of pain but didn't look back, instead quickening her pace. She quietly asked Butler W, "What is this strange custom? Do you have a record of it?"

Butler W quickly searched its CPU and replied, "Perhaps it is related to the extreme scarcity of females on this planet."

Ziye raised an eyebrow. "Scarcity of females?"

Had he not mentioned it, she wouldn't have noticed. But once he did, she immediately realized that among the hundreds watching, every single person was male. Even the naked toddler was just a small boy!

Connecting this observation with the way they had been looking at her moments before, a chill ran down her spine. "Let's go quickly."

It was a very narrow path, flanked by structures of dull gray. Some were patched-together sections of station framework augmented with metal scaffolding; others were walls built of stone. Perhaps due to the heaps of refuse piled up on either side, the houses appeared exceptionally dilapidated.

It felt like walking back into a primitive society.

If there were truly rare earth elements here, she would happily stay and spend time researching.

But this place was utterly uninhabitable!

Seeing that the fight behind them was drawing in more people and thinning the ranks following her, residents from the houses ahead emerged, watching them with the intense curiosity reserved for golden monkeys.

Ziye paid them no mind. She glanced back, saw that the pursuing crowd was no longer as dense, and commanded, "Run!"

With that, she bolted toward a less crowded area.

The people behind her shouted, the sound of their running feet echoing loudly, and they followed suit.

While running, Ziye deployed her mecha, which flanked the two robots, taking one on each side. The next second, the mecha shot upward, enclosing the three of them within the cockpit. As soon as Ziye stabilized her stance, she hit the ignition.

The mecha rocketed away amidst the bizarre cries of the natives.

Flying along the route, she looked down upon landscapes composed of garbage piles resembling mountains, stretching endlessly. Rot had obscured the luster of the cold metal wreckage, revealing only occasional slivers of exposed plating that hinted at their former brilliance.

On almost every garbage mountain, a small mecha could be seen diligently searching for valuable refuse.

Ziye frowned constantly during the flight.

The surface was buried under so much trash that it was impossible to survey whether rare earth elements were present.

There was simply far too much of this pervasive litter!

Annoying!

She circled overhead once, unable to find a single clean patch of ground, and reluctantly returned to the previously traversed, utterly broken-down street. That was the only spot where the underlying surface was visible.

That street was long, with haphazardly placed buildings; viewed from the mountain heights, it resembled a slum from a millennium ago.

This time, she didn't want to draw undue attention. She stopped on a garbage mound just before a turn, retracted her mecha, and instructed, "Help me find a few pieces of cleaner cloth. We need to cover our heads and faces."

In this environment, both she and the robots looked far too pristine and out of place.

Only by wearing attire similar to theirs and obscuring their features could they blend in, avoiding the gawking they received like exotic monkeys.

The two robots acknowledged her request in unison and split up to search for rags.

However, this area was near the residential zone; what garbage hadn't already been sifted through?

Finding a usable piece of cloth here was virtually impossible.

Ziye sighed in frustration; she would have to go into the street and buy some.

Having prior experience living on Silver Crest, she suspected purchasing anything here would be inconvenient.

After all, she lacked local currency.

And she had no idea what held value here.

The mecha was certainly valuable, but trading an entire mecha for a few scraps of cloth was out of the question.

She possessed one other item of worth: the knife gifted to her by Old Dog.

In this unfamiliar environment, a weapon was absolutely essential, and she was unwilling to trade it.

Ziye rounded a corner and spotted a small stall ahead, shaded by a hanging curtain, with various spare parts displayed outside—likely a merchant shop. A thought sparked in her mind, and she directed the scanning robot, "Dig out a piece of metal from the trash for me."

The scanning robot complied without a word, activating its detection system to scan the debris.

Although the garbage heaps had been picked over, the locals used standard mechanical operations, which paled in comparison to professional detection robotics. Thus, she felt confident.

The scanning robot did not disappoint. In moments, it unearthed a small metallic sphere and two square metal plates. Ziye quickly estimated their worth, then walked up to the stall and stamped her foot lightly.

Someone immediately emerged from the shop: a man with sharp features, a scraggly goatee, and narrow, shrewd eyes. The moment he saw Ziye, his eyes lit up, and he spoke in halting Galactic Common, "Greetings, three aliens."

Finally, someone she could communicate with barrier-free.

Ziye disliked the look in his eyes, but encountering someone capable of dialogue was a welcome relief. "Hello. We want to buy some cloth."

The goatee man chuckled. "Cloth is certainly not a problem. But what will you offer in exchange?"

Ziye did not immediately hand over the metal she held. Instead, she countered, "What do you require in exchange?"

The goatee man pondered for a moment. "Can I exchange for you?"

Ziye remained unperturbed. "Can you afford the price?"

The man gave a couple of dry laughs. "The young lady certainly knows how to talk. I am in need of a few pieces of metal. If you find them for me, I can have cloth ready anytime."

Ziye asked, "How many pieces is 'a few'?"

The goatee man replied, "For the three of you, three pieces should suffice."

Ziye sneered. "Is your cloth that expensive? To demand three pieces of metal in trade—I might as well go to the next shop; they’ll likely hand it over with both hands upon seeing I'm female."

The goatee man relented. "Alright, a discount then—two pieces."

Ziye shot him a sidelong glance, signaling the scanning robot to hand over the two square metal pieces, keeping the sphere for herself.

The goatee man took the heavy metal, grinning from ear to ear, and pulled back the curtain. "Come, come, come inside."

Ziye paused for a beat of silence, then strode inside.

Inside was a very long, large table, behind which stood a shelf displaying scattered items, all salvaged and cleaned from the refuse.

The interior space was slightly cramped, furnished with only two very low stools.

The goatee man poured two cups of water and offered one to Ziye. "Have some water."

Ziye glanced at him, then nodded. "Thank you. I'll rest a moment before drinking."

There was another partitioned section inside. The goatee man said, "I'll go find your cloth now," and turned to enter the partition.

After he was gone, Ziye smiled faintly and drank one of the cups of water.