Chapter Forty-Three: The Beginning

Gao Ning knew that the child would definitely sell him out the moment he turned his back.

But it didn’t matter—he only needed a temporary place to stay.

This place was as good as any: there was food, weapons, and a bed to rest on. Most importantly, there were clean clothes to change into.

When he’d fought just now, Gao Ning had suddenly noticed that his time currency was draining at twice the usual rate.

It was obvious—the tuxedo had been summoned by Gao Ning, unconsciously, by using his time currency.

Its mere existence consumed one portion of time, and each use of its functions cost another.

The rules on the Mysterious Train were strict; nothing could be carried aboard except for items surrendered as mission goods. Similarly, anything created in the train car could not be brought into a mission world.

The only workaround was to spend double time currency for a temporary summons.

Though he hadn’t fully understood the system, the mission rewards made it clear: time currency was far more precious.

To waste it in such a way was pure folly.

No wonder, in the previous world, neither Granny Liu nor Liang Bing had shown any unusual behavior.

One careless move and you’d fall into a trap—as if the Mysterious Train was constantly scheming to reclaim your time currency.

There was something strange about it all.

Inside the wardrobe, Gao Ning found a set of denim clothes.

Nearly new, though a bit large, it was obvious from its careful preservation that the owner had treasured it.

It was even stored in its own separate compartment.

Gao Ning took off the tuxedo, changed into the denim outfit, and found a hat to wear.

He searched the room, packed the bullets, canned food, and some cash into a small bag, removed all the rifle magazines, then took a large-caliber handgun and stepped out.

By then, dusk had fallen and the shantytown was aglow with feeble lights.

The once-empty, desolate streets were now lively, with many people wandering about.

The languages spoken were strange, the dialects varied, like a slum in a war-torn region of Africa.

Gao Ning glanced up and, as expected, saw a dozen burly men following several children, heading this way with menacing intent.

He smirked, pulled down the brim of his hat, and melted into the crowd.

Soon, angry shouts erupted behind him.

The shantytown was vast and sprawling. Gao Ning wandered through winding alleys until he became disoriented; if not for the mini-map constantly marking the correct direction, he’d have thought he’d stumbled into a labyrinth.

Everywhere he looked, it was the same: dilapidated surroundings, trash swirling in the wind, and, every so often, open-air eateries like street-side food stalls.

The decor was crude, and both the cooks and their food looked pitiful, yet children crowded nearby, drooling, watching as adults inside ate and drank their fill.

This place was even more chaotic than the dirtiest streets of New Delhi.

Perhaps it was the change of clothes or the cover of night, but Gao Ning was no longer as conspicuous as he had been during the day. He walked unnoticed.

Checking the mini-map and confirming his pursuers had not caught up, Gao Ning left the bustling street, approaching a girl who stood at an intersection, smoking. He pulled out a banknote.

The girl smiled, tucked the bill into her shirt, and said something he didn’t understand.

Seeing his confusion, she switched to English: “Your place?”

Gao Ning grinned. “For something like this, shouldn’t there be a bit of romance?”

She nodded, flicked away her cigarette, gestured for him to follow, and walked off.

He trailed her into a low house nearby, passed through several doors, crossed two courtyards, and finally arrived at a villa softly aglow in the dusk.

Gao Ning was surprised; he hadn’t expected to find a villa in this place.

From the architectural style, it was clear that it had been built after demolishing part of the surrounding shantytown.

It seemed that no matter the era, certain trades remained lucrative.

The girl signaled to a burly black doorman, pointed at Gao Ning, and entered.

Inside, the decor was decent—here, at last, Gao Ning glimpsed traces of modern society.

An elderly woman with curly hair at the front desk handed them a key, and together they went to a room on the second floor.

As soon as the door closed, the girl gleefully threw herself onto the wide Simmons mattress and began undressing.

“Wait!” Gao Ning stopped her hurriedly.

If he didn’t intervene, this book would be banned in no time.

She looked up. “What’s wrong? It’s my first time today, I’m very clean. If you want me to shower, the price doubles!”

Gao Ning pulled out all his cash and tossed it to her.

“I just have some questions for you.”

She shot him a glance. “I get it, you’re here for information. I meet your type now and then.

Usually it’s for research, or some kind of news story. What’s your excuse?”

Gao Ning thought for a moment. “Saving the world?”

The girl burst out laughing. “I like that!”

She gathered up the money. “Alright, since you’re so generous, I’m yours for the night!”

Gao Ning smiled. Exactly what he wanted.

He emptied the cans from his backpack, opening them one by one as the girl cheered.

And so, what could have been a colored encounter became an innocuous dinner invitation.

Gao Ning picked up a spoon, eating from a can of something he couldn’t identify—maybe cooked soybeans, or pig’s feet with beans—and asked, “Where is this place?”

“On the Mexican border, thirty kilometers from America. If you want to go, you can just take a bus.”

She answered nonchalantly, gnawing hungrily on a piece of meat.

It was clear she enjoyed the taste.

Only then did Gao Ning recall that, in this world, due to overpopulation and pollution, the concept of nations and social classes had all but disappeared.

Struggles between countries had long since ended with the emergence of a global government, formed through the mysterious evolution of political systems.

Sadly, the United Nations was still just a figurehead, never having risen to power.

Control had instead been seized by the so-called World Parliament, a coalition of dozens of developed nations led by the five great powers. The president now represented not just America’s highest authority but was a puppet installed by the world’s wealthy elite.

By all logic, such a situation should have been impossible—never mind the vast cultural differences, but capitalism and communism are natural enemies.

A World Parliament should never have come about.

Yet, in this imagined future, here it was.

With its rise, the conflicts of human society shifted from rivalries between nations to struggles between the rich and the poor.

It was precisely in such a context that the story of Elysium unfolded.

Thanks to the money, the girl answered his questions readily—almost anything he asked.

Apart from complaints about the violent mechanical police and the so-called “zero tolerance” security regulations issued by the government, what she spoke about most was her yearning for Elysium.

From the light in her eyes, it was clear that she regarded it as nothing less than paradise.