Simmons chuckled, "The business between middlemen and intermediaries has nothing to do with us mercenaries. We’re just responsible for taking money and doing the work. In any case, the winner takes all—it’s the rule of Night City."
"Also, if there’s an issue, it gets resolved in the arena. If you fight outside of it, everyone present can attack that clueless guy. Just don’t kill them, but beat them senseless."
"Arena? Where is it?" Upon hearing this, Jack was intrigued; he liked boxing.
Simmons gestured towards a corner of the bar, where an octagonal cage stood, though no one was fighting in it.
Jack and Gustav exchanged a glance, then Jack said to Simmons,
"I have to try and see if the mercenary skills here are as impressive as you boast."
Simmons blinked, a look of amusement spread across his face.
Jack jumped onto the arena in two or three steps, spread his arms on the ropes, and shouted loudly,
"Anyone want to come up? Any of you, let me see your skills!"
Jack was both tall and large, over two meters in height, and weighing 130 kilograms, he looked like a tower of iron.
Let alone the people present, even among all players, not one matched his size.
In traditional boxing, a difference in weight class means absolute advantage, but due to cybernetics, solely considering weight no longer suffices.
Who knows what kind of powerful motor or weapon is installed in those small arms of opponents.
Soon, some bold players responded to the challenge.
And Jack, he quickly experienced the struggles Simmons faced fighting with players.
He fought in a succession of matches, beating down one after another. These people could shoot but weren’t good at combat.
Those who followed the rules were fine; with pain activated, they knew when to admit defeat after being hit enough.
Those without moral integrity, who fought with pain shut off, didn’t know their ribs were broken until they passed out from a blow to the head or their body couldn’t endure internal injuries and visceral damage anymore, lying on the ground in a tragic state.
Simmons jokingly said to Gustav,
"Let your buddy go all out, don’t hold back."
On the third floor, Lin Miao looked at the account’s expenses, pinched his brow, and couldn’t help but complain,
"The money is earned quickly, but spent just as fast..."
Lucy, standing behind the chair, was also taken aback seeing tens of thousands spent this week. She had initially felt forty thousand was quite a lot, but a big chunk was gone in a flash; personal spending was incomparable to company expenses.
Purchasing drinks, networking, player spending, custom clothing...
This sum could support an ordinary person for a lifetime. If she had so much money before, she’d have settled on the moon ages ago, rather than wallowing here.
"Can’t you slow down a bit?"
"It’s unstoppable, Lucy. Business is , capital only flows to places where it can appreciate. If it stops, it’ll abandon you ruthlessly, and you’ll end up with a fate worse than death."
Lin Miao stretched lazily, closed the laptop, and caressed the head resting on his shoulder.
"But we should have a big pile of cash coming in soon, so worrying about money is premature."
Lucy was curious, "Hmm... how do you know?"
She had thought negotiating such matters with people would be exhausting, but surprisingly felt relieved.
No financial calculations needed; she had everything laid out impeccably—every penny and dime in a bill, down to players buying cigarettes or robbing gangsters on the street, all transactions in cash or electronically documented, devoid of tax evasion or fraud.
Players were easy to talk to, even when confused, they could ask Lin Miao, or simply be led astray to solve the problem on their own.
The most crucial thing was the relaxed atmosphere here.
Lin Miao smiled and asked,
"You don’t think only Valentino cares about their front-line disadvantage, do you? Many are watching. A gear set at around twenty thousand can replace an entire heavy-duty subdermal armor+ titanium alloy skeleton in gang battles. Despite its flaws, the price matches its performance, and anyone would want a couple of sets in their bar, restaurant, or club. It’s not expensive."
"Moreover, the unique artistic design of the exoskeleton wouldn’t be shunned in an upscale venue. Even purchasing it as a decorative statue isn’t a loss."
Talking about this, Lucy became more curious.
"Where did you find the designer? Those things look nothing like what you or Miss Manto could create."
To prevent player names from being overly abstract, they are all given harmonized phonetic names when viewed by NPCs.
"The designer hasn’t arrived in Night City yet, but you’ll see them in the future."
For any artistic needs Lin Miao had, he could simply post an event on the official site.
Just like a 3D animation rendering contest, providing requirements and basic models, leaving the rest for users to express creativity.
[Horizon Exoskeleton Design Diagram Collection Event 1.0]
The requirements were simple—conform to Mexican and Catholic artistic styles, and then the entire site votes.
The top ten works get shortlisted, then Lin Miao personally selects them for Gustav to choose, with the signed winner becoming the champion, donning the exoskeleton warrior outfit of the Valentino gang. Moreover, the designer themselves can become a user in the next version of the game.