Chapter 16: The Idols


    After leaving the building, Sun Jack and Song 6 got back into the stolen car and headed southeast.


    Without a map, Sun Jack had to rely on Tapai’s verbal directions, realizing they were still wandering around the outskirts of the Metropolis.


    About two hourster, they reached their destination.


    Flicking his e-cigarette into the rain, Song 6 gestured ahead. “Here it is—Idol Street. Don’t let the shabby market vibe fool you. If you know the right people, you can find just about anything here.”


    Through the car window, the most striking sight was the massive, decaying Buddha statue with closed eyes at the end of the street. Acid rain had eroded much of the statue, exposing its inner steel framework, leaving it in a state of disrepair.


    The statue sat serenely in the rain, as if unbothered by the endless downpour. Back-to-back with it stood a simrly weathered statue of Jesus. The two idols leaned against each other for support, barely managing to stay upright.


    Surrounding the statues was a cluttered circle of crowded shops of various sizes. Neon signs flickered above their entrances, each trying to outshine the others in eye-catching absurdity.


    The shops sold everything imaginable, but one in particr caught Sun Jack’s eye. Its neon sign split into two contrasting halves: ck, white, and yellow on one side advertising wreaths, funeral supplies, and coffins, while pink, purple, and ck on the other side disyed an array of adult toys.The juxtaposition was bizarre, creating a jarring sense of disconnection.


    “That’s the one,” Song 6 said as he headed toward the shop.


    “Seriously? With all the tech we’ve got, people are still buying wreaths?” Sun Jack muttered, curiosity pulling him inside.


    The moment he entered, he spotted a monk d in a robe patterned like a circuit board, six burn scars on his bald head, sitting at aputer. In the center of the shop, atop a throne adorned with electronic candles, sat a mechanical Buddha.


    ncing at the bizarre items lining the shelves, Sun Jack thought to himself, <em>“Huh. Durex with ukiyo-e prints? Promoting traditional culture, are we? Looks like this is a Japan-style monk.”</em><em></em>


    But he quickly realized that wasn’t the case—the monk was white.


    It was clear this shopkeeper had a unique sense of creativity, merging the unrted themes of funerary goods and adult toys in unexpected ways. The inventory included not only conventional items but also peculiar ones: sultry, provocative funeral attire, and even paper vibrators meant to be burned as offerings to the deceased.


    Sun Jack was baffled but undeniably impressed.


    “Yo, bro! Long time no see!” Song 6 walked up to the monk, flicking the steel tip of his prosthetic finger against the monk’s head with a loud <em>ng</em>.


    “Oh? Isn’t this Pus? I thought you’d kicked the bucket! Buddha bless, Buddha bless!” The monk cheerfully unplugged the cable running into one of the burn scars on his head upon noticing the visitors. He spoke in his nativenguage, not bothering to switch.


    “Hahaha, King Kong, got any new system chipstely?” Song 6 asked.


    Hearing this, the monk’s expression changed instantly. He nced nervously past Song 6 at Sun Jack and the others. “Amitabha, I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is a perfectly legitimate business.” ?????????Ε?


    Sun Jack rolled his eyes, tossing the ck-and-white “grim reaper” massage wand back onto the shelf.


    “Oh, rx,” Song 6 said, turning to hispanions. “They’re with me—ride-or-die kind of bros. No snitching here.”


    With that reassurance, the monk, apparently named King Kong, breathed a sigh of relief. Snapping his fingers, he activated the mechanical Buddha, which climbed down from its lotus throne to mind the store. King Kong then led the group to a side door.


    “Man, you should’ve said so earlier! I thought the cops were running some kind of sting operation.”


    The door opened to reveal a staircase leading down to a brightly lit basement. Unlike the chaotic upstairs, the basement was pristine, with rows of neatly arranged prosthetics and two crab-like robots stationed nearby.


    Song 6 slung an arm around the monk and introduced him. “Bro, meet King Kong Ma. A modification master and a wicked scammer. When you buy second-hand stuff from him, be careful, or you might find out in a life-or-death moment that your backup heart pump... doesn’t have enough power!”


    Just as he said this, Song 6’s expression darkened. In one swift motion, he drew his gun and pressed it to King Kong’s forehead.


    “You b***ard! After all the stuff I’ve bought from you, you still scammed me? Six burn scars, huh? How about I add a few more holes to that bald head of yours?”


    “Whoa, whoa! Let’s not get hasty. We can talk this out!” King Kong stammered, sweat dripping as he raised his hands in surrender.


    “How are we gonna settle this, huh? I almost died because of your cheap crap! Speak up!” Song 6 snarled, his face contorted with rage.


    Just as Sun Jack thought things might escte further, Song 6 suddenly lowered the gun and grinned at him. “Alright, go ahead and pick. Whatever system chip you want today, it’s on the house.”N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Sun Jack was taken aback. So this was how Song 6 intended to “fix his system problem.” It became clear to him that unless absolutely necessary, Song 6 wouldn’t spend a dime. Whether it was a rescue, housing, or now even a promised neural system, everything had to be freeloaded. The guy was the ultimate cheapskate.


    Soon, Sun Jack found himself in front of a row of cold, gleaming chips norger than a fingernail, each bearing logos he didn’t recognize. King Kong enthusiastically exined the features.


    “This one, my friend, is the ALT1G Model 3. It has an auto-trantor, firearm synchronization for real-time bullet counts, and even a built-in hacking system to monitor enemy ammo!”


    “Don’t pick that,” Song 6 interjected. “Nowadays, every neural system has auto-trantion and bullet tracking. Features like that are basic. And the hacking system? It’s so outdated that the ports are worthless—not only can it not hack anything, but it’s vulnerable to reverse hacking.”


    He grabbed another chip. “Pick this one. It’s the most expensive in King Kong’s stash. Comes with a Tier-4 monitoring disruptor, a pain editor, temporary ICE, and a dopamine circtor.”


    Perhaps aiming to make King Kong bleed a little, Song 6 kept suggesting pricier options, much to the monk’s dismay.


    Sun Jack took the blue, coin-sized chip from Song 6’s hand and pondered. The choices so far weren’t ideal. The best solution might lie somewhere in between.


    “Is there any way to get the benefits of a neural system without installing it in my brain? Maybe something external, like a wearable device?” Sun Jack asked.