Life Game In Other World

Kest City

"When making pastries, the knack is all in the baking. If the heat is a bit too high and the oil temperature too high, the outside gets burnt while the inside is not cooked. If the heat is too low, you could bake all day and it still won’t cook through, leaving the pastries and meat soft and soggy. Only with just the right heat can you bake pastries that are crisp outside and tender inside."

The bushy-bearded boss held a metal tong, flipping the pastries in the oven one by one, while commenting, "I’ve used the Menshu Group’s smart oven, and honestly it’s no good; the pastries just don’t taste right, not crispy enough. That’s why I stick to the most traditional oven. With this kind of oven, the flavor is all about the craftsmanship, and you must handle it with extreme care; there can’t be the slightest error."

He placed the baked pastries on the iron rack next to him, "Of course, the final taste of the pastries baked this way is the best, so although my shop is small, people keep coming in droves."

The bushy-bearded boss wrapped the pastries in plastic paper and handed them to the elderly man in front of him, who had white curly hair and a simple, casual attire, "Old man, be careful not to burn yourself when eating, though the pastries are crispy on the outside and soft inside at this moment, the taste is at its best."

"Alright."

He Ao smiled and reached out to accept the pastries handed over by the boss.

The cold morning wind blew from underneath the sunrise at the end of the city, sweeping across the cold and empty streets.

"Come on, boss, you don’t have to introduce your skills to every person that comes by," a young man in a simple military uniform strolled over slowly, "as if there really are a lot of people coming to buy here. This pastry is made with synthetic flour, and the meat is synthetic too. How good can it taste?"

As he spoke, he arrived at the front of the shop, lifted his head, and glanced around. This narrow old street had only a few scattered passersby. In front of the meat pastry shop, there were only two customers, counting him and the elderly man beside him.

He lifted his head, looked at the boss, "Give me two meat pastries, put it on the tab."

He Ao glanced at the young man’s military uniform, on which was embroidered what seemed to be an abstract simplified emblem of a hub.

"Shoo shoo shoo, this is called brand marketing, what do you know!" The bushy-bearded boss waved the tongs in his hand, "These Kest meat pastries, my family has been making them since my grandfather started. In this Kest City, no one dares to say they make them better than me."

He casually picked up two meat pastries from the basket beside him and tossed them into the young man’s hands, "You’ve had an outstanding tab for a month now."

"I’ll settle it when the Mercenary Corps pays me," the young man accepted the scorching pastry barehanded, smiling, "I can’t really owe you money, can I?"

"Stop talking nonsense; if it’s really not doable later, just swipe the credit card," the bushy-bearded boss shook the tongs again, "I don’t have enough money to keep extending credit for you."

"If I could swipe a credit card, I wouldn’t be eating your pastries here," the young man chuckled, "You know full well my credit score has long been maxed out; I’m long bankrupt. As soon as any money enters the bank account now, it gets seized by those creditors instantly."

He lifted his hand, took a bite of the pastry, and continued, "Speaking of which, boss, be careful, the world hasn’t been peaceful lately."

"What hasn’t been peaceful," the boss shook his head, "If anything is unpeaceful, it’s you company dogs that are unpeaceful, what’s it got to do with us small business folks?"

"That’s true," the young man chuckled, munching on the pastry, looking at He Ao beside him.

For a fleeting moment when his gaze landed on He Ao’s cheeks, his body froze slightly, wanting to say something, yet seemingly unable to recall it, he simply waved his hand, retreating while still smiling towards the other side of the street, "Old man, the boss may like to brag, but his pastries indeed taste good. If you like, you can come back often to try them."

As he spoke, he had already disappeared down another street, vanishing from sight.

"Is that young man with the Mercenary Corps of the Menshu Group?" He Ao took a bite of the pastry, watching the young man depart, casually inquired.

The emblem on the young man’s chest was the emblem of the Menshu Group.

"It’s from the Menshu Group," the boss next to him placed new pastries into the oven, "In this Kest City, there are only two big employers: Noder Finance and Menshu Group. with these two employers, they can afford a Mercenary Corps. If he wants to be a mercenary, he can only choose between them.

"But in recent years, Noder Finance only hires auxiliary personnel for logistics, who have high workload and low pay, and they are also bullied by the formal mercenaries. Menshu Group hires formal mercenaries, with high salary, but it is said the rules are also many.

"However, Menshu Group’s mercenaries have one good trait: they don’t bully people, which is very different from those mercenary corps of financial groups who like to abuse their power,"

Saying this, the boss seemed to recall something, and spat, "If that kid worked for those beasts at Noder Finance, I wouldn’t have given him credit."

"Being a mercenary for the Menshu Group should earn a pretty high salary, right?" He Ao continued to take a bite of the pastry. This time he tasted the meat, the crisp pastry skin and tender meat juices unfolded in his mouth, and mixed with the stirring of his tongue, filled with a sweet and savory flavor.

The pastries indeed were quite well-made.

"Heh, who knows,"

Upon hearing He Ao’s remarks, the boss shook his head, "Even with high salary, one may not escape bankruptcy; sometimes bankruptcy can happen in an instant. Previously I liked to ask about everything, but now I don’t. Asking always ends with those few answers: unemployment, illness, accidental injury, involvement with contraband drugs. Most of the time, these all come together."

He lifted his head, looked at He Ao, smiled, "Old man, it’s your first time in Kest City, right? That’s how this city is: if you can survive, it’s already quite good; the kid even has a decently paid job which is truly under divine protection."

He continued to flip the pastries in the oven, sighing, "At least the Menshu Group’s mercenary corps is a good employer; it’s much better than the Menshu Group’s companies around here."

"It seems the Mercenary Corps of Menshu Group has a good reputation." He Ao said casually as he bit into the meat pastry.

"Compared to other financial groups, it certainly is good." The boss nodded, casually pulling out more meat pastries.

The sunrise continued to climb higher into the sky, obscured by the towering skyscrapers in the front blocking most of it.

Underneath these skyscrapers, the scattering crowd began to grow.

In front of the narrow little shop, a bustling crowd slowly gathered.

The shop’s business also began to bustle.

The boss quickly wrapped meat pastries for each customer, with no more time to tell his marketing story.

Just as the boss said, his business seemed indeed to be quite good.

In that interval, the elderly man standing in the crowd had quietly vanished by some point, leaving only the warm sunlight shining on the earth.

In the distance, a dense crowd of people emerged, holding various banners and signs, heading towards the tallest skyscraper under the sunrise, chanting slogans like ’Skewis, step down’.

"Those parade teams are out again."

Among the meat pastry-buying crowd, came a little sigh tinged with the sounds of chewing.

"Don’t they have jobs? I wonder where they get so much time."

"Where are they protesting today?"

"Looks like the direction is towards the Menshu Group’s building, isn’t it?"

"Sometimes you really think these students have studied themselves silly. Do they really believe their protest can change the tycoons’ minds and make the President step down?"

"Heard there’ve been many cases of fatalities among parade teams in other cities; will something happen this time?"

"The Menshu Group should be fine, right? Their Mercenary Corps is pretty restrained, and it’s not their first time protesting at the Menshu Group."

"Hey, these folks are cunning, only going to the City Government, City Council, and Menshu Group, take a loop around the Nord Building and leave. At the end of the day, they’re still afraid of dying," said a tall, lean figure in the crowd with a laugh.

"What did you say? Who’s afraid of dying?" A young man ahead suddenly turned his head, looking at the tall, lean figure.

"I’m talking about you young punks! If you have the guts, go to those thugs at the Nord Building!"

"Self-righteous fool, are we marching to fight for our own gains? It’s to prevent idiots like you from being oppressed by the corporations, to ensure everyone has basic security and won’t end up on the streets just because they’re unemployed."

"I don’t need you fighting for me, I’m doing fine, earning a decent income, don’t need your help. If you ask me, you’re the self-righteous fool here."

"Hey, hey, don’t start a fight at my shop door, take it somewhere else to brawl."

"Alright, alright, if you want to argue, take it elsewhere, don’t block us from buying buns."

Voices of impatience rose from the crowd.

"Don’t be impulsive, don’t be impulsive, it’s not worth getting angry with people like that. Let’s quickly buy the buns and head back to the marching group," the young man’s companion urged.

The young man glared fiercely at the tall, lean figure, "Hope you never encounter unemployment in your life."

"I’m quite capable, unlike you little punks who can’t even find a job and can only do these useless marches on the street," the tall, lean figure sneered.

"Alright, watch your mouth," a burly man in the crowd spoke up, "Everyone knows these young folks mean well. If you want to obediently be a company dog, then be a dog, stop wandering around here aimlessly."

"Exactly, go wherever you need to, don’t block us from buying breakfast," voices echoed in the crowd.

The tall, lean figure glanced at the crowd that was growing increasingly angry, snorted coldly, "A bunch of fools, muscles growing into brains."

"Hmm?" The burly man turned his head, looking at the tall, lean figure.

The tall, lean figure shrank back immediately, turned around, and slinked away.

"Alright, alright," the burly man picked up the bun the boss had packed and stuffed it into the young man’s hands, "Kid, go do what you gotta do, but be safe, don’t listen to those idiots talking nonsense, and don’t run towards Nord."

"Thank you, thank you." The young man accepted the bun and thanked with his companions.

They squeezed out of the crowd together and walked towards the marching group that had almost left.

As they crossed the street corner, the young man noticed an elderly man seeming to quietly watch him from the corner.

The man held a bun, had white curly hair, and brown-golden eyes, looking dignified and noble in the crowd, somewhat conspicuous.

But soon, the young man’s gaze was drawn to the enormous screen above the elderly man’s head.

On that screen was a picture of an imposing old man in military uniform, with white curly hair, brown-golden eyes, like a lion crouching on a hill, gazing at the people below.

And below this picture were strings of text and highlighted numbers.

[Former Captain of Menshu Group Mercenary Corps - Hawke]

[Bounty: 100,000,000]

[If you have any clues, you can call the reporting hotline below. Contacts available throughout The Federation. A valid clue will receive a reward of at least 10,000,000 federal coins.]

"No, wait, am I seeing things? How much is the bounty there? How many zeros?" The young man’s companion beside him also looked at the screen, somewhat shocked.

"12345678, 8 zeros, a hundred million federal coins," another companion exclaimed, "Just providing a clue gets a ten million reward, gosh, how long would we need to earn that much money?"

"I’m currently earning 300 per week, need to..." a companion raised their bracelet, seemingly opening a calculator, "Sixty thousand years, six thousand years without eating or drinking to earn that much money, damn it, The Federation hasn’t lasted for 800 years."

"What kind of person merits such a bounty, the whole Federation’s bounty," another companion sighed.

"Either a super villain or a superhero," the companion who spoke first remarked, "The corporation pursuing them like this, could be like us, rebelling against the corporations."

"If I could warrant such a bounty, wanted by the whole Federation, dying would genuinely be worth it," a companion sighed, "A true hero should be like this!"

"Alright, alright, stop dreaming!" The other companions laughed and urged, "We’re about to catch up to the group."

The young man also lowered his head, joined his companions, chasing towards the marching group ahead.

He instinctively lowered his head, glancing at the street corner.

The white-haired elder still stood beneath that massive wanted notice, but no longer watched him, instead quietly gazed at the departing marching group.

Vaguely, he suddenly felt the elderly man seemed ’familiar,’ but could in no way match the elder with images in his memory.

Just then, the elderly man seemed to sense his gaze, turned, looked at him, smilingly nodded his head.

He instinctively returned the gesture politely.

Ultimately, he withdrew his gaze, shook his head, considering it merely a hallucination, joined the group as they followed.

And standing at the street corner, He Ao also withdrew his gaze from the young man, once again looking at the marching group.

Above him was his wanted notice.

However, no one would link him with the wanted notice. He used a simple mind intervention technique, utilizing Super Memory’s natural dispersal ability, creating some mystical influence on the thoughts of those around.

The effect of this intervention is simple: people cannot recognize him even with the photo comparison and instinctively overlook the minor unreasonable aspects of him.

This intervention’s overall power is weak, the effect isn’t strong, yet it’s enough for ordinary people; only those innately with high intuition, or very powerful transcendent individuals, could faintly sense something’s off.

Like that young man, innately endowed with high intuition, such individuals have a great talent for becoming transcendents.

Of course, they’re also Divine Being’s favored sacrifices.

He Ao’s gaze settled on a few people amidst the marching group ahead.

Those few carried a certain abnormal aura.

They seemed a bit like, Death God believers.