Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva

"Well, even if it's just a few thousand people, that's quite a few, right? Why must you destroy them? It's like splitting open a watermelon just to take a few seeds and give up the rest of the flesh," Guluo shook his head.

"Flesh? What's that? I'm Red Hat, not a top hat. Do you think I can control the two big groups?" The other party seemed a bit infuriated.

"Alright, alright, let's not talk about this for now. Regarding the two gangs, or should I say groups, do you know their military strength? Also, how do you plan to compensate us? To be honest, after hearing your story, I'm tempted to refuse right now," Kinsenke said, spreading his hands.

"Military strength? Black Hammer has around 40-50 Mechas, over 200 elite combat personnel, and more than 1,500 scattered ordinary fighters, along with some illegally modified Autonomous Units."

"As for Burn Iron, they have around 70-80 Mechas, but theirs are lighter and less protective than those at Black Hammer. They have over 150 elite fighters, and more than 1,200 ordinary fighters scattered around, along with some modified Autonomous Units for assistance."

"The strength of both sides isn't far apart, no wonder they've been able to maintain peace for so long," Kinsenke made a simple assessment.

"Additionally, I'm curious about the Mechas you mentioned. Are they the mainstream ones on the market, or are they rough versions they've modified and produced themselves?"

"Definitely the rough versions they made themselves. We can't afford those mainstream Mechas here."

"That's a relief. If you said they were on par with the mainstream, I'd be running away right now," Guluo pinched the bridge of his nose.

—————— Stay connected via empire

While Kinsenke and his people were inquiring about Lebyon as if listening to a story, Tilan also ran into some trouble.

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm talking to you, lad, yes, you. Lend me your lady friend for a bit of fun," a man with thick arms, yellow teeth, and a cheap cigarette approached with large strides, followed by two underlings, obviously used to running wild locally.

At the intersection with gravel and dirt, Yalian had just spotted the gas station in the distance when he was stopped by this shout from behind.

The three men across the road whistled as the blonde Efnie with a ponytail turned around, revealing silly grins on their faces.

"Come over to me, baby. That beanpole next to you won't be able to satisfy you, heh heh." He spoke shamelessly, making obscene gestures.

"Hmm?" Although Efnie was disgusted, she wasn't too troubled inside. This was all too common in the Northern Second District; she'd gotten used to such encounters over time, which was also why Deloris was reluctant to get out of the car and show her face.

"We don't have time to chat with you," Efnie said casually, shaking her head and continuing to walk forward. The others also ignored the man's nonsense and headed towards the distant gas station.

"You!" The man tried to follow when ignored, but for some reason, his knee suddenly gave way in pain, and he tumbled to the ground, his face smashing into the dirt, spitting and coughing, utterly embarrassed.

Xie Lian just shook his head slightly at the back of the group, glanced at the man, then continued to follow the others.

The other two underlings were busy helping their boss up, no longer concerned about pursuing the group.

The closer they got to the gas station, the more Tilan and his companions felt the unease of the place. Illegally modified vehicles parked at the station and people carrying various weapons in and out told a different story from the typical residential area.

It made sense. In such a barren place, those who could afford cars were often not simple folk. In the lawless Northern Second District, might was the only right; only the powerful had high status, could drive cars, and would gather around gas stations.

To avoid trouble, Tilan and Efnie put on masks, covering their faces as best as they could before they and their companions entered the fume-filled gas station. Along the way, they saw many old cars parked at the curb, many of which were modified with machine gun mounts or bulletproof partitions — some even had beehive rocket launchers established at the rear.

Taking advantage of the fact that no one had noticed them yet, the group hurried into the station. Inside, a worker was telling dirty jokes to a friend, punctuating them with exaggerated gestures.

"... that Mary, she's really got a pair, hahaha~" The laughter echoed under the steel dome of the gas station, accompanied by the sound of stomping feet.

"Knock, knock, knock—" Yalian knocked on the ajar door and was the first to walk in, while the others waited outside.

"Hello, I've heard that this place sells fuel, and we happen to need some for our travel vehicle," Yalian greeted, gradually silencing the jokes of the employees.

"Oh, business is booming," one of the employees waved to his friends and then came over.

"Let's talk. How much do you need? My prices are very good, 1,000 Federation Coins per liter," he said.

"There's no need for that," Yalian took out a box of previously confiscated cigarettes from his pocket and tossed it to the man.

"I know the going rate. They all told me," he added, having done his research, unlike when he first started unprepared.

"Who are they?" The man caught the cigarettes, sniffed them, and feeling satisfied, pocketed them.

"Old John from Supply Station 87 and Aunt May from Supply Station 35," replied Yalian.

"Oh, so they referred you. Alright, for the sake of old acquaintances, I'll do 300 Federation Coins per liter, it can't go any lower than that," the man shook his head.