After finishing his noodles! , John returned home and remotely piloted the drone, landing it smoothly on the ground. Everything seemed perfect, yet John felt a sense of dissatisfaction.
"If only I could establish a direct connection with the drone," he thought.
Currently, the process involved multiple steps: the brainwave control device, the mobile signal network, home network equipment, the robot, the mobile remote, and finally the drone. Each additional step increased delay and risk.
Direct human-brain-to-drone connection, even with just the brainwave control device as an intermediary, would be much more convenient and stable. As his computational power increased and he needed to control more devices, the current setup would become too cumbersome.
However, at this stage, John couldn't find a better solution. Even improving the performance of the current brainwave control device would require significant resources. He suspected the Itans had more advanced brainwave control technology that could facilitate direct connections with electronic devices, enabling seamless complex operations. But clearly, they were unwilling to sell such advanced tech to humans, offering only obsolete products disguised as high-tech and selling them at high prices to exploit human wealth.
"When I have enough computational power and research capability, I'll develop my own brainwave control device," John resolved.
Having sorted things out, John continued operating the gaming tasks with the robots while diving into a new phase of learning. The deeper he delved into computer chip technology, the more knowledge he realized he needed. Although he could now manually create 200KHZ chips, his knowledge was still just the tip of the iceberg.
There was an unknown amount of knowledge waiting for him to learn. Studying was a daily necessity.
As night fell, John heightened his vigilance, observing the surroundings of his small backyard again.
This night was peaceful, but the following night, around 2 AM, he finally saw a suspicious figure. It was too dark to discern facial features, but the person appeared short and thin.
The man stealthily approached from the east, pretending to walk by, confirmed no one was around, then circled back to inspect the backyard. John hid behind the wall, watching him through a small opening.
The man wandered around, piling some objects to stand on. John retreated further into the house, continuing to observe.
Sure enough, a head soon peeked over the wall, surveying the backyard for a long time before retreating. John moved to the doorway, peering through a crack, and saw the man swiftly slipping away along the wall. John quietly followed, dagger in hand.
Though he had Butcher Shawn's backing, John wasn't a pushover either, Living safely in such a chaotic area for over a decade, finding stable work, and saving money to rent a house required a certain toughness.
Even in the chaotic market district, John had previously managed to be considered relatively well-off. Many poorer residents lived day-to-day, sleeping on the streets and considering cardboard shelters a luxury.
Surviving in such conditions required a ruthless streak and experience in defending oneself.
Following the thin man through the night was a simple task for John. Keeping his distance, he carefully tailed the man until they reached a street corner. Suddenly, John spotted another figure, startling him and instinctively raising his dagger.
Taking a moment to calm down, John realized it was just a homeless man sleeping in the corner. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the man as the same middle-aged man with the suitcase he had seen earlier.
The man had found a secluded spot, hiding his suitcase behind him and covering himself with some cardboard to sleep.
"At least he's smart enough to find a hidden spot and keep his suitcase safe," John thought, ignoring him and resuming his pursuit of the thin man, eventually watching him enter Black Three 's gambling den.
John's first substantial earnings had come from winning at Black Three's gambling den. He knew that the den was the lair of a local gang, led by a man known as Black Three. In the underworld, people usually referred to him as Black Three.
This gang, although not as established as major gangs like the Iron Wolves, the Blades, or the Blood Brotherhood, was still a dominant force in the surrounding streets. Black Three had about a dozen core enforcers and over twenty peripheral members, running gambling dens, bars, and collecting protection fees. No one dared to mess with them.
"Damn, it's Black Three who's targeting me… What a nosy bastard. I've been careful enough, haven't I? Could it be the money I won from gambling a few months ago? No, that's not it."
Months had passed without trouble from Black Three, so it couldn't be the gambling money. It must be John's recent frequent deliveries and large packages, his reclusive lifestyle yet apparent financial comfort that had drawn attention.
After some thought, John formulated a plan and quietly left.
It was already late at night, but Black Three's gambling den was still bustling. The gamblers were shouting, and the mixed smells of smoke, alcohol, sweat, and stinky feet were overwhelming.
In a small room at the back of the den, Black Three, a dark-skinned man with a scar on his face, was casually playing cards with a few core members while two scantily clad women clung to him.
The thin man entered, smiling obsequiously, and was greeted by Black Three's rough voice. "Hey, did you see clearly?"
"The curtains were drawn, so I couldn't see inside, but it's definitely computers."
"Is he alone in the house?"
"Just him."
"A guy living alone with so many computers, never leaving the house but having lots of money…"
Black Three pondered for a moment, then slowly smiled. "Who would have thought we'd have such a hidden gem in this dump…"
"What does that kid do?"
"A hacker, and a skilled one at that. No doubt about it," Black Three said with certainty.