October 16, 7708, Federal Calendar, early morning.

The rising sunlight fell upon the streets of Baker District in Jadeite Main City, rousing the crowds who had only just rested.

As a famous “Gray Zone” within Jadeite Main City, the people here were accustomed to starting their unsavory work late at night, resting in the wee hours, and finally rising in the early morning.

A quite regular life routine, which also aligned with Loren’s impression of the “industriousness” of the Gray Zone.

“Without diligence, you die.” This phrase was fully embodied here.

The Federation’s population was vast, with just as many people falling into darkness as those walking the path of light.

Here, if you didn’t work a little harder, you would always be replaced by newcomers just entering the trade.

In other parts of the Federation, laziness would at most get you fired or demoted…

But here, laziness meant death…

Those tainted by secrets and conspiracies, those not protected by Federation law, had no concept of “resignation.”

Within Baker Street in the early morning, a tall figure with traces of ash on his clothes calmly walked in.

After cleaning up his spoils of war, Loren had unfurled his wings and rushed here at high speed according to the location in his memory.

By the time Loren arrived, it was already dawn.

The long night had finally passed.

The reason Loren chose this place as the starting point for his escape was that during his last ride in a hovercar, he had glimpsed this area from afar.

That familiar “flavor” had lingered in his mind for a long time.

Of course, another reason for Loren’s choice was simple: he had an “acquaintance” here.

On his first day arriving in the Jadeite Star Domain, Loren had gifted a Revolver to someone.

That hovercar driver, whose eyes held a deep desire to become a Superhuman, had been extremely grateful for Loren’s casual act of kindness.

Moreover, the place that hovercar driver chose to make his way after obtaining that Revolver was precisely here—Baker Street.

In that guidance post by the “Veteran Three-Accompany Hunter” on the Interstellar Hunter Forum, that senior had clearly stated:

“When preparing to flee after pulling off a job, it’s best to choose smuggling starships from the Gray Zone, not those openly priced stowaway ships.”

“These smuggling starships have established routes, complete profit chains, and sufficient backing, which can filter out a lot of trouble.”

“Whereas the openly priced stowaway ships you might choose when desperate have a high chance of you being the ‘goods’ they have openly priced.”

“Finally, if you have acquaintances in the Gray Zone, that’s even better. It means you won’t get fleeced, and the probability of being double-crossed is much lower.”

This post, considered a classic on the Interstellar Hunter Forum, was one Loren had silently bookmarked.

When Loren prepared to flee, he naturally followed the experience detailed in this post strictly.

Especially while still carrying injuries, having fewer troubles during the escape journey was always better.

Due to the preciousness of time, after cleaning up his “spoils of war,” Loren came directly to Baker Street, without time to find a place to treat his wounds.

In Loren’s estimation, if he delayed even a little, it wouldn’t be good to be cornered by the Security Bureau and the military.

After entering Baker Street, Loren headed towards the location of that Revolver according to his perception.

The uses of an anchor point were many. Besides manipulating luck around the anchor point and enabling a resurrection, it also served as a guide.

In Loren’s perception, the location of every Revolver was crystal clear.

The people of Baker Street, who had risen early, stood at the entrances of their shops, watching this new, unfamiliar face, all falling silent.

The dangerous aura and reputation surrounding Loren blended in perfectly here.

A few bold individuals even wanted to call out to Loren, to drum up some “business” for their shops.

Unfortunately, these bold souls had their mouths covered by those beside them in the first instant.

“Idiot! Open your eyes!! That’s Las Loren!! That’s the bizarrely powerful expert who wiped out over a hundred Superhumans in seconds, and the one with ambiguous ties to the Security Bureau!”

“He’s not one of those clueless newcomers!!”

Loren, who was searching for someone, glanced at those bold individuals and bestowed upon each a strand of Misfortune.

This was a warning.

A few seconds later, these bold fellows, burdened with Misfortune, all lay on the ground, having died in bizarre ways.

One slipped, then collided with a metal object.

One was accidentally shot by a firearm carried by someone nearby.

Another, after falling, had a rib puncture an internal organ.

There was even one who was suddenly sought out by a personal enemy…

Baker Street in the early morning finally returned to calm after a bout of commotion.

When clever individuals realized that all the dead were precisely those who had boldly called out to Loren moments ago, cold sweat broke out on their backs.

And clever people often held a certain degree of influence within the Gray Zone.

Thus, this Baker Street fell into an unusual quiet.

The bold lads lying dead on the ground were skillfully dragged away, and no one disturbed Loren’s activities on Baker Street anymore…

In the Gray Zone, “prestige” was a very important thing.

When someone attempted to challenge your prestige and you did nothing, it signaled weakness, and weakness meant trouble.

Loren, preparing to flee, absolutely did not want trouble at this moment.

Any trouble would waste Loren’s time.

Two minutes later.

Loren arrived in front of a shop with a sign reading “Private Courier.” He pushed the door open and entered.

Once inside, Loren glanced around. The interior of the shop was unexpectedly… warm?

The furnishings inside were quite cozy: a wooden counter in warm tones, several neatly arranged wooden tables, and shelves along the walls displaying various handicrafts.

What surprised Loren most was that the air inside the shop even carried the scent of incense.

Two people were chatting leisurely at one of the tables.

If not for the wall behind the counter being covered in weapons, Loren would have thought he’d come to the wrong place.

This shop seemed to exist in a different world from the Baker Street outside.

The two people chatting inside the shop, seeing a customer arrive, stopped their idle talk with their colleague, rose from the table, and looked towards Loren.

The two sized up Loren, then exchanged a glance, subtly shaking their heads at each other. Not a familiar customer, a first-timer…

“Hello, sir. May I ask what you need?” one of them tentatively inquired of Loren.

That dangerous aura didn’t seem like that of a simple character. He also felt Loren looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t recall.

He hadn’t gone out to join the commotion on Baker Street earlier;
their shop ran legitimate business, not the same as others on Baker Street.

Loren found a table on his own, sat down, looked up, and calmly stated his purpose:

“I’m looking for someone. He used to be a hovercar driver. He should be in the back of this shop.”

Hearing this, both men slowly moved their hands towards their waists. Loren didn’t seem to be here for business, but rather to cause trouble.

“What business do you have with him?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep