As the twilight approached, Zed couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia, it was like he was still living in the old times.
Newford, though not a particularly large city, had a charm of its own. Unlike the web-like boulevards that covered various zones in Luzmell, Newford had only one main avenue, with the rest of the area dominated by residential neighborhoods.
To compare them In terms of transportation would be much easier, Luzmell boasted 11 underground lines, with the fare nearly doubling from Zone 1 to Zone 4. In contrast, Newford's bus number didn't even reach double digits.
Zed flipped up the collar of his jacket and maneuvered past two street vendors selling brute dogs. He turned into a narrow lane, barely 7 feet wide.
At the end of the path lay Dorking Road, House Number 17. This street, stretching from Number 10 to 60, was lined with pubs every few meters. Even in the aftermath of the disaster, Zed could still see drunken groups of people and barman chasing after customers who forgot to settle their bills.
However, Zed didn't venture out immediately. He rolled up his sleeves and glanced at his watch. Evening was fast approaching, and he decided to have a smoke first.
Leaning against the wall, he knocked out a cigarette, holding it between lips. The winter sun set quickly, which was good for Zed.
Not long after, a man wearing a black pilot jacket appeared. His cap almost concealed his tired face, but the lush beard on his lower jaw remained visible.
Zed recognized him. He was Demon, a young leader of the Wild Divers gang that operated in the outskirts of Newford.
Ever since the day Zed gave him that awakening manual, Demon had stopped following the DR group and started following Zed instead.
Of course, in between, Zed had taken him out of the city a few times. At start, no one believed that this young man carried any real abilities. But after following Zed's planned route, they obtained several batches of B-class spores without a single casualty. That shut everyone up.
"Have you got a lighter?" Zed asked.
"No, I didn't bring it today,"
Demon stunned for a moment, then added:
"They should have one, though. Mr. Zeppeli, they should."
Zed put the cigarette back into his pocket, watching the last ray of sunlight descend into the crimson horizon, and walked out of the lane.
The first pub at the mouth of the lane was named Rising Sun.
"Hehe, of course. What a beautiful name," Zed said, gazing at the sign as he tilted his head slightly.
Then he was going to push the door.
However, at that moment, he paused and turned to ask Demon, "You said they were the ones who arranged the meeting, right?"
Demon, with his cap still on, raised his head. Bloodshot veins surrounded his brown irises. He nodded in response to Zed's question.
"Yes, Sir. They did, but I don't think they are here paying us the money."
Zed didn't say anything and entered the bar.
Inside, the lighting was dim, and Zed felt as if he had been transported back to that small winery meeting when he first arrived in the city.
The heavy smoke in the air deterred even a fly from going inside. The table had only a few bottles of craft beer, and the menu consisted entirely of alcoholic beverages. It felt more like a smoke bar, though.
"Hey, who the fuck are you? We're on a party!"
A man lying in the corner, puffing on a shisha, barked petulantly. If he hadn't spoken up, Zed wouldn't have known there was another person there.
Zed glanced at him, nodded toward the empty space in front, and spoke loudly and deliberately.
"Cough cough...I hope your party went well, but we got a meeting at this time to discuss the sale of spores. Who is Oz Dav here!"
Laughter and coughing suddenly echoed through the room, akin to the sound of a feral cat being choked.
Zed frowned and continued again, "I hope your party went well, but we had an appointment of meeting at this time to discuss the sale of spores. Who is Oz Dav here!"
Still, no one replied. Demon was about to speak up, but Zed stopped him to hold back. The man in cap nodded and slowly stepped back behind Zed. Then, Zed cleared his throat, stood upright, and casually rested his hands on his belt.
"You hear me! The schedule is the schedule! Who is Oz Dav here!"
"Shut your mouth, you little bastard. Didn't you hear that we're having a party?"
Zed fixed his gaze on the man who just spoke, Oz, a fat man with greasy sweat stains all over his head. The grime on his body almost glowed under the dim lights, as if he hadn't bathed in ages.
Zed took out a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips.
"You are Oz? Do you have a lighter?"
Oz seemed too lazy to answer him. He poured himself a drink and nodded.
Then, a metal crate was thrown next to the gate.
*Thump!*
The collision of steel against wooden floorboards produced a heavy sound. However, the quality of the crate didn't seem to be very good. It casually opened with a clasp, and a large number of copper coins spilled out, clinking and rolling at the feet of Zed and the demon.
"Take your money and get lost, you two mongrels!" Oz shouted.
As soon as Oz finished speaking, the room erupted in more mocking laughter, accompanied by the gurgling sound of shisha being inhaled.
Zed squatted down, picked up a copper coin, and held it in his palm. It was incredibly light, almost like some smaller town homemade coin. While it was still valuable in this area, some merchants in certain zone looked down upon such coins.
Until the laughter ceased, silence ran through the room for a whole mintue. Then, Zed spoke again.
"This wasn't what we agreed on. Hey, we were supposed to receive half of the profits from selling spores through your channel. But my accountant tells me this morning that for the past two months, you've only been collecting spores without paying us. If you convert this crate into silver coins, it might buy you another month's time..."
Zed shrugged and calmly added:
"Look, we don't want any conflicts with any channels. We just need to sit down and talk. We came here expecting to see you returning the spores or giving the money, or at least work with us friendly, not partying. So, for now, put down that glass of alcohol which supposed be mine. Now, do you have a lighter?"
Upon hearing this, Oz's gaze shifted between Zed and the demon for a moment before he stood up.
At that moment, the pub's door closed with a dull thud.
Zed remained silent, staring intently at Oz until he stood up completely. Only then did Zed realize that he was only half as tall as this monstrous figure, and he could feel the air thickening around the fleshy mountain in front of him.
Then, Oz cleared his throat.
Phew...
He spat out a glob of phlegm that resembled sulfuric acid in front of Zed's feet. Instantly, a black smoke rose from the coins, and as they descended, the wooden floor emitted a sizzling sound.
Oz took steps toward Zed, and as his face came into full view, Zed noticed that his forehead was covered in a patchwork of exoskeleton. Strange, moss-like soft hair sprouted from the gaps, filling his left eye completely.
With a peculiar chewing sound, Oz spoke again.
"I don't make friend with whoreson."