Civilization, as humanity's cumulative inheritance, represents the spiritual wealth and innovations that enhance our understanding of the world, align with human aspirations, and garner broad acceptance.
By that definition, the Sixth District certainly qualifies as a civilization—albeit a grotesquely distorted one.
If there were a single phrase to capture its technological state, it would be a jumbled mess of extremes. Mercenaries with rifles slung over their shoulders loiter at recruitment centers, cigarettes dangling from their lips, while traders calculate their profits on sleek holographic computers. People missing limbs are commonplace—some hobble on crude crutches, while others sprint with mechanical prosthetics that outperform natural legs.
The same phrase—a jumbled mess of extremes—also describes the district's standard of living.
Everywhere, emaciated men and women lie listlessly, too weak from hunger to cry out. Uniformed soldiers patrol the streets in trios, rifles in hand, their mirrored sunglasses masking any trace of emotion. They ignore the starving masses and equally turn a blind eye to the streetwalkers brazenly soliciting clients.
"Absolute neutrality," Sun Jiao explained nonchalantly to Jiang Chen, who was still trying to acclimate to the grim realities around him. "That's the Sixth District's foundation in this wasteland. The laws here are simple: kill or steal, and you'll be shot. Evade taxes, and you'll be exiled. Inflict harm without reason, and you'll be jailed."
Jiang Chen swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on a uniformed man beating a defenseless, skeletal woman to death with a wooden stick. As if sensing his stare, the man turned and offered Jiang Chen a friendly grin.
"Why wasn't he executed?" Jiang Chen asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.
"That's a sanitation officer," Sun Jiao replied in an indifferent tone, though Jiang Chen detected a trace of discomfort. "They handle the bodies in the slums."
But that woman wasn't dead yet.
Sun Jiao quickly changed the subject. "The inner circle of the Sixth District is cleaner, but you need to pay a fee in crystite to get in. We're only here to trade for essentials, so the outer market will suffice."
Jiang Chen nodded silently, his unease growing.
This distorted civilization.
The outer market, though filthy and chaotic, was still better than the slums. Dead thieves and other unfortunate criminals lay discarded in trash heaps, their bodies later collected by sanitation officers and taken to the "farm," where they were mixed with today's "fat harvest" to create fertilizer for accelerated crop growth.
The infamous thieves fared no better—preserved in formaldehyde and nailed to boards as warnings.
"Rog Jelsun, alias 'Claw Wolf,'" read one plaque. "Responsible for three murders in the Sixth District. Shot dead in the sewers by security forces."
Upon closer inspection, the wooden placard bore the deceased's personal details. Judging by the name, he seemed foreign, which wasn't unusual. NATO forces had once landed in this city, and many had stayed behind.
At the market entrance, two well-dressed merchants haggled fiercely before reaching an agreement and signing a contract under the supervision of a market official. One party handed over crystite, which was verified by an energy scanner, while the other led out ten scantily clad women from a rented tent.
Led out like livestock.
Each woman wore a circular electronic collar around her delicate neck, their vacant eyes following the tug of chains.
Their pale, flawless skin rivaled that of porcelain dolls, yet their faces bore barcodes like any other commodity.
Apparently satisfied with the "merchandise," the crystite-paying merchant directed his men to load the women onto a truck before driving off.
"Xinrui Grand Hotel," Sun Jiao muttered, her eyes narrowing as she watched the truck disappear.
"A hotel?" Jiang Chen asked.
"A brothel," Sun Jiao spat. "They offer every kind of 'service' imaginable—you know what I mean. There, women are consumables. It's a haven for every depraved fantasy you can imagine. I once overheard some dimwitted drunk in the Liuding Tavern boasting about how 'tender' the flesh of young girls from the Xinrui Hotel was—in the culinary sense."
Jiang Chen shuddered, the horrifying fate awaiting those expressionless girls flashing through his mind.
"That trafficker likely belongs to the faction occupying Vault 101," Sun Jiao continued coldly. "They use cloning technology and nutrient pods to produce low-cost humans. These 'products' are more commodities than people."
"What's the deal with these vaults, anyway?" Jiang Chen asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he glanced at Sun Jiao's emotionless gaze.
"They're fascinating experiments," she replied with a shrug. "Each one was designed around a unique concept to maximize survival. I was born in Vault 071, which was relatively lucky. Its design revolved around rigid schedules and regulated personalities—not exactly fun, but at least it was stable. Some vaults weren't so fortunate."
Her lips curled into a chilling smile.
"Take Vault 070, for example. Its concept was to foster a moral leader to inspire others. How naive the pre-war designers must have been. Within ten years, that vault had turned into a nightmare. Their 'moral leader' abandoned all pretense of civility and declared himself a tribal warlord. Using his authority over the security system, he eliminated all other men, leaving only women as his personal playthings. And Vault 101? Likely a 'no-human' vault."
"A vault without people?" Jiang Chen asked, struggling to process the concept.
"Exactly. They stored DNA from top-tier elites, set to activate incubation chambers after a designated period. These chambers would 'produce' perfect bodies, then use virtual reality systems to implant decades of memories in mere weeks. The pre-war designers probably didn't anticipate that these products would become hot commodities in the post-apocalyptic wasteland."
Sun Jiao's tone dripped with sarcasm, while Jiang Chen fell silent, overwhelmed by the bleak reality.
Was this the end of civilization?
"We're here," Sun Jiao said, cutting off Jiang Chen's thoughts as they approached a storefront.
The official trading post for the Sixth District's outer market, it was where goods deemed valuable to the settlement were appraised and purchased. While canned food and batteries often served as currency in smaller survivor camps, the Sixth District's "prosperity" necessitated a more formal system—one that facilitated taxation as well.
Crystite, as a key power source for high-energy equipment, was in universal demand among survivors. Its portability also made it ideal as a currency.
Though setting up shop would have been more profitable, Jiang Chen, unconcerned about money, chose the convenience of selling directly to the district's official buyers. Sun Jiao didn't object—she clearly wasn't eager to linger here either.
"Your goods?" came a mechanical voice from the counter.
At Sun Jiao's nod, Jiang Chen retrieved his backpack and placed an item on the table.
A sharp intake of breath echoed from behind the counter.
For the first time, Jiang Chen detected a note of astonishment in the clerk's tone and felt the weight of greedy eyes boring into his back.
Sun Jiao smiled, motioning for him to stay calm. No one dared break the rules here—not while they were still within the district's walls.
"Do you have more, sir?" the clerk asked, now sounding unusually respectful.
Fresh beef, perfectly preserved.
Even in the inner circle, nobles subsisted on mutant beef and hastily grown vegetables. The idea of fresh, untainted meat was practically mythical—a relic of a bygone era.
For the average wastelander, eating anything "green" was an unimaginable luxury. Yet here Jiang Chen was, nonchalantly offering what was perhaps the rarest delicacy on Earth.
And he had the audacity to complain it didn't taste as good as fresh food.
"Plenty more," the trader at the front desk remarked with a professional smile as she efficiently wrapped up the transaction for Jiang Chen. Moments later, a strikingly elegant woman appeared by his side, her demeanor poised and alluring.
"Sir, please follow me," she said with a cryptic smile, gesturing toward the VIP room with a sway in her step. Her presence, and the confidentiality afforded by the VIP room, underscored the care taken to protect their clients. After all, hauling out valuable goods in the open would likely result in a very short trip past the Sixth District's boundaries.
The moment Jiang Chen entered the VIP room, he was greeted by a delicate tea fragrance. A classic wooden table, plush leather sofas, and a tea set with an exquisite purple clay teapot gave the room a refined elegance—a surprising contrast to the gritty surroundings outside.
"Please, come in," the graceful trader said, bowing slightly at the doorway. Her low neckline revealed a tantalizing glimpse, a sight that didn't go unnoticed by Sun Jiao, who stood behind Jiang Chen with a smirk of amusement and a glint of mischief in her eyes.
Jiang Chen, however, was oblivious to the silent contest of wills between the two women, their fleeting exchange of looks a battleground of subtle hostility. The trader reluctantly closed the door behind them, clearly disgruntled by Sun Jiao's intrusion, her courteous facade barely masking her irritation.
Transactions involving over 100 Azure Crystals were handled in the VIP room for both discretion and an added touch of luxury for high-value clients. As Jiang Chen placed his goods on the table, the trader meticulously verified them. Twenty perfectly preserved cans of food—practically luxury items in this post-apocalyptic world—were appraised at 50 Azure Crystals each.
"Do you even realize what a VIP room is for?" Sun Jiao asked as they strolled through the bustling market afterward, her voice laced with playful sarcasm.
"High-value transactions?" Jiang Chen replied, puzzled by her sudden question.
She stifled a laugh, leaning in to whisper with a teasing smile. "It's where they offer… special services."
Her breath tickled his ear, sending a shiver down his spine, but Jiang Chen was no longer the bashful boy he once was. Instead, he grinned, playing along.
"Ruined my fun, have you?" she asked with mock irritation. "If I hadn't been there, she might've given you the 'full package.' I'm sure she's cursing me under her breath for costing her a fat tip."
"How could I hold a grudge?" Jiang Chen quipped, leaning close to her ear with a smirk. "I'd much rather have you."
Sun Jiao flushed despite herself, her usual confident demeanor momentarily slipping.
Her expression hardened as her sharp eyes scanned the crowd. "We're being followed," she muttered, her voice low.
"Who?" Jiang Chen instinctively began to turn his head, but she stopped him.
"Don't look. Act natural," she whispered, her tone almost playful as she leaned into his ear again. "No one's dumb enough to make a move here, but don't worry, my dear boss—I've got this."
They quickened their pace, Sun Jiao leading Jiang Chen into what appeared to be a clinic. Inside, a masked doctor administered two injections to Jiang Chen—one, a T-series vaccine against the zombie pathogen; the other, a C-grade gene-enhancing serum designed to boost muscle strength, reflexes, and bone density.
"Strength means survival," Jiang Chen muttered to himself, stocking up on other performance-enhancing drugs and equipment. He couldn't rely on Sun Jiao to protect him forever, no matter how much he wanted to.
Their next stop was the armory, where Jiang Chen restocked his PK200 assault rifle with 7.62mm rounds. Although it was pricier than the energy cells Sun Jiao used for her advanced Sirius rifle, Jiang Chen preferred the reliability of kinetic weapons in the unpredictable wastelands.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Sun Jiao glanced over her shoulder at the shadowy figures trailing them. A cold smile flickered across her lips.
"We'll stay here tonight," she declared.
Jiang Chen frowned. "But—"
"Nightfall is dangerous," she interrupted, her voice tinged with amusement. "But it's also the perfect time to settle scores."
Trouble was brewing, and tonight, it seemed the hunters were about to become the hunted.