125: Boat to Cross the Dust

Cargo Port No. 3—the decaying smell of rust and the fishy stench of engine oil mingled in the damp air.

Agent A curled up in a dark corner of an abandoned shipping container. Every heartbeat felt like a heavy hammer striking his ribs. He tightly clutched the box in his arms; its metallic texture, flickering between reality and illusion, seemed to sear his nerves.

Outside, the combat boots of Alliance Agents stepped across the waterlogged ground, producing a dull, rhythmic "thud, thud" sound. The noise drew closer and closer. Agent A almost stopped breathing, burying himself deeper into the shadows.

The footsteps paused outside the container for a moment, as if scrutinizing the area, before slowly fading into the distance.

Only when the sound had completely vanished at the other end of the alley did Agent A dare to take a deep breath. Cold sweat had already soaked his back.

Just then, a knock—three long and two short—sounded on the metal door of the container.

“Tide,” a raspy voice came from outside the door.

“Recedes,” Agent A responded with an equally dry voice.

The door was pushed open a crack, and a stocky four-armed clan craftsman squeezed inside. He looked honest and simple, though his four arms made him appear somewhat clumsy. The two verified each other's identities by checking an inconspicuous token engraved with a spiral pattern.

“Where is the item?” Craftsman B asked in a low voice, his eyes filled with tension.

Agent A handed over the box. “According to the plan, your task is to take it to the third entrance of the ‘Sewer’ and give it to the next contact. Remember, just deliver the goods. Don’t ask any questions.”

Craftsman B’s four hands trembled as he took the box, its weight making him stagger. Feeling the pressure of the invisible net outside, the color drained from his face.

“No... no, I can’t do this...” he suddenly spoke, his voice carrying a sob. “There are Alliance spies everywhere outside! This is a suicide mission! I don’t want the money anymore; I’m not doing this job!”

As he spoke, he tried to push the box back.

Just as Agent A’s expression shifted, preparing to command him by force—

“Beep—”

A crisp notification sound rang out from Craftsman B’s personal terminal.

Craftsman B froze, instinctively lifting his wrist.

A string of numbers that made his eyes nearly pop out appeared on the light screen: [Received: 500,000 interstellar credit points].

“You... you people...” Craftsman B stammered, his mind going blank. The agreed-upon payment was one hundred thousand, with half upfront and the other half upon completion. But now... a processed, emotionless synthetic voice rang out from his terminal’s public channel.

It was Chen Feng’s voice.

“This is not your full payment.”

“This is an advance deposit, as well as a reward for your courage.”

“Complete the task, and there will be ten times more.”

Ten times... plus another ten times... Craftsman B felt like he was about to suffocate. Five million credit points? Just to deliver a box? This amount was enough for him to buy an entire street on any second-class colonial planet and live out the rest of his life in peace.

Fear was instantly swept away by an immense wave of ecstasy.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” He was so excited he became incoherent, his four hands clutching the box tightly as if holding a gift from a god. “Thank you! Sir! Thank you! You are my savior!”

Chen Feng’s voice remained flat, as if merely stating a fact. “It seems this money is very important to you.”

“Yes! Yes, sir!” Craftsman B’s eyes instantly turned red, hot tears streaming down as his voice choked with emotion. “It’s too important! Truly too important!”

“I... I finally have enough money! I can finally take my gravely ill daughter to board the ‘Boat of Crossing Dust’ of the [Silent Walkers]!”

“They are true saints, helping the souls of us poor people return to eternal peace, and they don’t charge any fees—they only accept voluntary donations!”

“My daughter... she finally won’t have to suffer anymore...”

On the bridge of the wanderer.

An imperceptible glint flashed in Chen Feng’s eyes.

[Silent Walkers], [Boat of Crossing Dust], [Free], [Donation].

He silently saved these terms into a specialized encrypted file, marked as “High Alert.”

“Your daughter will find peace,” he consoled with that unwavering synthetic voice. “Now, go and complete your task.”

“Yes! Yes! I’m going right now!”

Craftsman B nodded heavily, clutching the box. With unprecedented determination, he rushed out of the container.

Chen Feng cut the communication... At the same moment, inside the mobile command vehicle of the Omni-Dimensional Trade Alliance, a piercing alarm shattered the oppressive silence.

“Sir! We have a result!” An analyst suddenly stood up from his seat, shouting excitedly.

“Our monitoring of all large-scale fund movements in the blockaded zone just captured an abnormal target!”

“A huge sum of five hundred thousand credit points has flowed to another suspect we flagged before the auction—that registered four-armed clan craftsman!”

The analyst quickly projected the craftsman’s avatar and real-time location onto the main screen.

“He is currently moving toward the ‘Sewer’ area!”

A hunter-like, cold smile finally reappeared on Shadow Chaser-J’s face.

“Excellent.”

“The fox has finally shown its second tail.”

“Notify Team B-3. Keep a death grip on him.”

J stood up, hands behind his back, staring at the moving dot of light on the screen as he spoke word by word:

“This time, I’m taking down both the man and the goods!”