"Please show your ID, sir." The routine question was asked once again.
Beneath towering concrete walls stood reinforced steel gates. The defenses of the inner circle were clearly a step above those of the outer zone, and Jiang Chen had the chance to witness firsthand the grandeur of this city-within-a-city.
After paying a crystal point and storing all his weapons at the designated checkpoint, Jiang Chen was granted access.
At the entrance stood a spider tank with a tri-barrel cannon. Its blocky, track-driven limbs gave it a distinctly futuristic look. The patrol squads passing by were equipped with sleek carbon nanotube armor and streamlined rifles. According to Sun Jiao, the soldiers stationed in the inner circle were the core strength of District 6, mostly composed of private mercenaries working for the "Ten-Person Committee," the true rulers of the district. In contrast, the militia in the outer circle, though well-equipped, were considered public property, making them entirely different in nature.
Jiang Chen couldn't help but feel a bit envious. He wondered if he should get some of these high-end gears for himself. As he pondered, he made his way toward the hotel that was his destination.
Along the way, Jiang Chen observed many pedestrians. It was said that those who lived in the inner circle were either senior technicians working for District 6, wealthy mercenary bosses, or rich investors who owned properties in the area. In short, this was the "rich district."
It's worth noting that the mercenary groups stationed in District 6 were not the same as the half-bandit, half-soldier groups that roamed the wastelands. Most of them collaborated with the District 6 militia to handle defense tasks, earning commissions through defense agreements. Occasionally, they were also dispatched for special assignments or to guard caravans. Mercenaries registered with District 6 didn't have to worry about being betrayed—after all, their insurance wasn't paid for nothing. If a bodyguard turned into a bandit, not only would their guarantors in the inner circle face imprisonment, but District 6 would also send armed forces to eliminate the violators.
[Paradise Island Hotel – Where the weary soul finds comfort...]
At least that was how the slogan read.
Jiang Chen entered the hotel, which was clearly a former mansion converted into a luxury inn. Since he was here for business, he couldn't afford to be underestimated—he needed to make a strong impression. Without hesitation, he paid for five nights upfront, a total of 50 crystal points. The hotel owner, treating him like royalty, immediately showed Jiang Chen to his room. Those who could afford to stay at such a hotel were either wealthy merchants or high-ranking officials—either way, they were people worth appeasing.
It's also worth mentioning that such expensive hotels usually didn't have guests. If they did, they were typically from other large survivor bases or wealthy merchants and aristocrats from outside the city. According to inside information that Jiang Chen had received from Sun Jiao, just staying at a hotel like this was an incredibly eye-catching event.
And Jiang Chen was here to make a statement.
Without drawing attention, who would want to come and talk business with him?
As for whether trouble would come knocking? Jiang Chen wasn't particularly concerned. The neutrality of District 6 had been upheld for over a decade. The way they'd developed the area to this point wasn't by short-sighted greed or careless exploitation.
In this regard, he had to admire the system of District 6. The area was governed by the "Ten-Person Committee," consisting of the ten major capitalists who controlled the free trade zone. The balance of power among them ensured that the regulations were strictly followed. No one wanted to be the first to break the rules. Business could be done, but you couldn't cheat your partner or disrupt your neighbors' trade.
Of course, privacy wasn't something anyone cared about.
As Jiang Chen expected, the moment he stepped into his room, the hotel manager immediately reported this generous guest's details to the owner behind the scenes.
[Photo:
Name: Jiang Chen, Agent for Fishbone Food Products Manufacturing Company.
Check-in: July 9th – 14th.]
Jiang Chen's information was soon placed on someone's desk.
"Fishbone Food Products Manufacturing Company? Jiang Chen? Interesting," murmured a middle-aged man with a buzz cut. His thick eyebrows framed sharp, eagle-like eyes.
"Should we make contact with him, boss?" asked the secretary standing beside him, adjusting her glasses. She was Zhao Chenwu's personal secretary. Not only was she his right-hand woman in business, but she also acted as his bodyguard when needed and occasionally took care of his personal needs.
Zhao Chenwu was one of the members of the Ten-Person Committee. He controlled 13% of the private military forces in the inner circle, owned two arms factories and a pharmaceutical plant, and had several real estate holdings in the area. He was also the president of the well-known Zhao Group in District 6.
"No rush, let's just watch for now." Zhao Chenwu smiled faintly, a look of amusement on his face. He was somewhat intrigued by this young man.
Fish products company? Where in this wasteland could there be land suitable for farming? Even if it were hydroponics, the plants would grow in strange, often toxic forms due to radiation. There were some organic farms in District 6, but most of the produce was either inedible or low-quality, with strange shapes and tastes. Honestly, plant a watermelon and you might end up with a bean instead.
Of course, he had heard of some places outside Wanghai City where high-tech farming was possible, but it was rare and costly—things like simulated biomes, but those were just rumors. Even though pre-war technology was advanced, things were far different now. Everyone had veered off track with their technology trees.
As a major shareholder in the Paradise Island Hotel, Zhao Chenwu had encountered many agents from various companies seeking business in District 6. But a "food products company"? That was a first.
He chuckled. Was District 6 really lacking in mutated cow meat? It was just that most people couldn't afford it.
Shaking his head, Zhao Chenwu set the report aside.
He glanced at the clock and felt a pang of hunger. Turning to his secretary, he asked, "Is lunch ready?"
"Yes, my boss. Just confirming, is it still the curry chicken today?" the secretary replied in a professional tone.
When Zhao Chenwu nodded, the secretary left the room and returned a short while later with a steaming plate of curry chicken rice.
The unique aroma of curry made his mouth water, and without a second thought, he grabbed his chopsticks and began devouring it. Watching him eat with such gusto, the secretary couldn't help but swallow, though she knew there was no more food for her.
This small plate of curry chicken was worth 20 crystal points—equivalent to two nights at the Paradise Island Hotel.
But that wasn't the important part. The key was, there was a price, but no market for it!
Recently, an outer district exchange had bought 20 cans of this product at 60 crystal points per can and sold them to high-end clients in the inner circle. Zhao Chenwu had managed to get one himself, thanks to his position in the Ten-Person Committee. He was lucky there wasn't an auction; otherwise, the price might have gone even higher.
He had even cut the can into three portions to make it last.
Zhao Chenwu had looked into the whereabouts of the seller of these cans, but he'd heard that the two individuals had been targeted by a group called the Gray Bug Mercenary Corps as soon as they left the area. Their fate was unknown. Hearing this, Zhao Chenwu had been furious, almost sending his private soldiers to deal with the Gray Bug Mercenaries. But in the end, he refrained. After all, they had only acted outside District 6's boundaries, and hadn't broken any rules.
With a final shake of his head, Zhao Chenwu finished the last bite of his curry chicken, momentarily distracted from his curiosity about the braised beef can bought by his old friend, Boss Ding. But that was probably already eaten.