The wind rose, and sand swirled. If someone said there was a city in such a vast, dry desert, it would be hard to believe. But as the sandstorm dispersed and the sun reappeared, a highly modern city emerged from the desert.

Dream Star City, like a dazzling jewel, was embedded in the desert. The port by the city gates was bustling with activity, and the service hall was packed with people. A giant electronic screen in the center continuously refreshed with red scrolling text:

"23rd-level, fully equipped, high-attack esper seeking group for the Blood Red Wasteland. Hardcore grinders, message me!"

"25th-level +1500 HP battlefield medic girl seeking group for Ice Forest Plateau. Handsome guys and controllers prioritized!"

"Looking for a tough tank? Want a safe grind session and treasure hunt? I'm a 23rd-level biowarrior with full purple gear, guaranteed to keep you safe. Seeking 22nd-level and above experts, scream if you're interested!"

…

Looking at the rows of messages, Edward couldn't help but sigh again. None of the group requests on the screen were ones he qualified for.

Because he was only level 13—far too low. His only weapon was an old-fashioned Mauser pistol—better than nothing. He had a sensor device—a life-saving tool. A Zippo lighter—for lighting cigarettes. And on his crystal card, there were only two credits left—not even enough to buy a bundle of healing serums. That was all he had.

Compared to those "level 20-somethings" with "full red or purple gear," there was no comparison at all.

The worst part? Edward's class was a gunner.

Being a gunner sounded flashy, but the reality was tough—slow leveling, expensive ammo, high consumption rates, and a host of other problems.

As for PvP, Edward had thought about it, but so far, no one had seriously challenged him. Given his level and gear, others wouldn't even bother to bully him.

If he wanted to post a "looking for group" ad on the service hall's electronic board, he'd have to pay the lovely NPC receptionist a service fee. Rather than spending a credit on that, he might as well head to the weapons shop and buy another box of bullets.

Since he couldn't bear to spend the money, his only option was to sit on the steps outside the hall and shout: "Hey, brothers and sisters! I'm low-level. I don't need any loot from the kills; I'll just pick up a bit of cash. All I need is a team to help me level up. Any kind souls, please message me."

At this point, passersby would usually ask him: "What level are you? What gear do you have?"

Once they heard his answer, they'd immediately curse: "A gunner? Noob, get lost!"

Edward felt like a slave from ancient times, displayed like a commodity, waiting for someone to pick him. The frustration wasn't just mild—it was suffocating.

Actually, there were quite a few "commodities" like him. Far more players were sitting on the steps than there were inside the hall. Most were lower-level, poorly equipped players, all eagerly waiting for someone to form a team with them.

At that moment, a small team walked out from the hall, heading toward Edward. It was clear they hadn't found suitable teammates inside.

"God, please let them choose me," Edward silently prayed.

The team indeed approached Edward. Leading them was another gunner—a long-haired beauty dressed in a camo short-sleeved combat shirt paired with black hot pants. Her bare legs, tanned a healthy bronze, were both sexy and athletic. A bullet belt wrapped around her waist, and a black shoulder strap was pulled taut by the MP5 submachine gun slung over her shoulder. Of course, Edward recognized that sleek MP5—it was worth over 1,500 credits at the weapon shop, not counting the expensive ammo. If it were real, it'd cost over 200 bucks in cold, hard cash.

"Gunners really are a class for rich players," Edward thought as the beauty finally stopped and looked him over.

"What level?" the beauty asked first.

A completely unnecessary question. Anyone could see from the Mauser on Edward's waist that it was beginner gear. Even a reinforced Mauser's firepower wasn't much to speak of.

Still, Edward answered honestly: "Level 13."

"Oh?" The beauty seemed a little surprised. "Why are you still using a Mauser at level 13?"

Edward thought to himself, "If I had an AK-47, would I still be squatting here?"

Though that thought ran through his mind, he asked another pointless question aloud: "Want to check my gear first?"

The beauty waved her hand. "No need, show me your sensor device."

"Sure!" Edward removed the sensor and opened the trade window. A line of text quickly appeared in the beauty's view.

"Quad-alloy thermal sensor, green gear, level 10 requirement; durability: 92/100, effective detection range: 300 meters; added attributes: +1 vision, +3 constitution specialty, +2 agility specialty, +10% movement speed, can be assembled."

The beauty was surprised. "How did you get green gear?"

Her surprise was justified. In Star Wars World, gear was ranked from white (common), red, purple, green, blue, silver, to dark gold—seven classes in total. The further up you went, the better the attributes. The best gear you could buy in shops was red gear.

Star Wars World had only been live for so long. Even the players shouting for "hardcore grinders" in the hall had only purple gear at best. No one expected that a "poor guy" squatting outside would have a piece of green gear. It was quite rare.

Edward sighed. "It's a long story. Let's not talk about it. So, are we teaming up or not?"

"It's you," the beauty nodded, sending him a team invite.

"Player Hot Girl invites you to join the team."

Edward didn't hesitate and immediately pressed "accept." In his heart, he shouted, "Hooray for beautiful women! Hooray for the Federation! I finally got into a team!"

It was a small, three-person team. Aside from Hot Girl, who was a gunner, there was a biowarrior and a battlefield medic. All three were gorgeous women with curvaceous figures, and just from their outfits, it was clear their gear wasn't bad.

"Don't worry, with high risks come high rewards. Our principle is: you get paid according to your work. Once the job's done, there'll be plenty of money and gear for you," Hot Girl said bluntly, though her words had a hidden meaning.

Edward suddenly felt this all sounded familiar. He quickly asked, "You guys are taking on a mission?"

The medic, named "Oath," coldly said, "Break an arm for 500 credits, a leg for 700, the whole set for 1,000. You in?"

"Oh my god, 1,000 credits!" Edward sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm in! I'll take the whole set. By the way, are you doing a hunter mission?"

Hunter missions involved tracking and killing someone. If you had an enemy, you could go to the Federation's administrative hall and apply for a bounty. Every four hours, the main system would provide your target's exact location and coordinates. If you killed the target within 24 hours, the mission was completed, and the target would lose two levels, one of which you would gain as experience. Their loot drop rate would also double.

This task was legal and didn't count as malicious PvP. However, it was expensive. Depending on the number of people and their levels, you had to pay the administrative hall a hefty sum of credits. Plus, you couldn't apply for another bounty for a month.

"Damn, which unlucky bastard pissed off these three beauties? Just for that, I'm taking the job," Edward thought, slapping his chest with righteous determination. However, in his heart, he was thinking, "Killing someone and getting paid 1,000 credits? I could buy ten Mausers with that. You girls must really have more money than you know what to do with."

Oath smirked and handed over a digital photo. "This guy's name is Malagobi, a 26th-level controller with full purple gear."

"That bastard, his name says it all—he's no good," Edward said while slapping his thigh and taking the photo. Though he cursed aloud, he was secretly shocked. Star Wars World had only been live for a month, and as far as he knew, there were less than ten players above level 26 in the area surrounding Dream Star City. These beauties were hunting down a top-tier player.

This job was dangerous—1,000 credits weren't going to be easy to earn.

Looking at the photo, he saw a super close-up of a greasy, ugly man. His face was covered in pimples, and the sight of it almost made Edward throw up his last meal.

"Okay!" Edward took out his Zippo and lit the photo on fire.

"Did you memorize his face? Why did you burn the photo?" Oath asked in surprise.

Edward replied, "A professional always burns the evidence. I'm a killer now."

"Where is he now?" Edward finally asked the key question.

Hot Girl, her face emotionless, said, "22 hours have passed. The system's last update was 1 hour and 18 minutes ago. Location: Wind Forest Volcano. Coordinates: 2588, 186

Upon hearing the words "Wind Forest Volcano," Edward's expression changed instantly. "Sorry, I'm not taking this job. You'd better find someone else," he said, turning to leave.

"Stop right there," the gunner girl barked.

Edward froze, confused. "What now?"

With a cold look, she replied, "If you're not coming, sell me your sensor device. Name your price."

Edward chuckled. "Sorry, but this thing isn't for sale."

Of course, he wouldn't sell it. While the green-tier sensor wasn't worth a fortune, it had saved his life several times, allowing him to make it to level 13 with only two deaths. A seasoned player knows that some equipment can be sold, but never your lifeline.

With a swift "click," the girl pulled out her MP5, disengaged the safety, and pointed the cold barrel directly at Edward's forehead—barely a meter away.

"Hey, don't do anything rash. This is the port service area," Edward stammered, visibly tense.

The gunner girl sneered. "I know. But I'm still in white status. If I kill you, I'll just turn yellow and get thrown in jail for a bit. But I'll still get your sensor. Don't test me—sell it or else."

The atmosphere became immediately tense, and even the surrounding players who were hanging around began to gather to watch the scene.

"Oh, come on, there's no need for this. Let's talk it out," came a voice so sweet it made Edward's skin crawl. The biowarrior woman, named "Mommy," swayed her hips as she approached, gently lowering the gunner girl's weapon. "Big sis, put the gun down. Guns are for enemies, not our own. And you, my dear brother, no need to get upset. We can work things out, can't we?"

Edward felt goosebumps rise all over. "Mommy, I'm not mad. It's your big sis here who's trying to kill me."

Mommy put her hand on Edward's shoulder, grinning flirtatiously. "Little brother, look at you—such a handsome guy. Sure, your level's a bit low, and your gear is just okay, but we're pressed for time, and we need you. Don't go, okay? How about we pay you an advance?"

Edward was puzzled, but Mommy was serious. She opened up the trade window, displaying a crystal card. A message popped up: "Player Mommy requests a trade, credit amount 500 points."

"Take this advance, little brother. Even if the job falls through, the advance is still yours. If it succeeds, we'll pay you an even bigger reward. Hmm…" She dragged out the final "hmm" in a sultry tone, punctuating it with a coy wink.

Edward shivered involuntarily, thinking, This is both coercion and bribery.

"C'mon, what do you take me for?" Edward replied, feigning disdain. But without hesitation, he accepted the deal, then put on a smile. "Alright, ladies, when do we head out?"

With a collective "Wow!" the surrounding onlookers burst into laughter.