It was midnight at the port of Planet Shanghai. A merchant group was about to leave the port so they were busy loading their goods.
In one of the warehouses on the ships, a small mercenary team consisting of seven people gathered in a corner and chatted among themselves. The equipment on them was old, and the badly bruised old mecha models beside them proved that their journey here wasn't easy.
The leader of this team was a skinny middle-aged man around 50 years old. His face showed many signs of old age. He drank the low-grade alcohol that the merchants gave them and looked at the team members around him. He sighed sadly. "I'm sorry, everyone. I'm too incapable. For the past ten years, our situation kept getting worse. Now, we even need to take missions that require so much time and effort, but don't have good rewards so we can fill up our stomachs."
