Chapter 7: Invaluable Water Resources
"Aren't you scared?" Finn asked Jimmy.
The scene from earlier, with blood and guts splattering everywhere, was enough to make any ordinary person crumble in terror.
Finn had gone over Jimmy's file. Jimmy came from a blue planet in the Gamma-TWO-A-9527 world—just a completely ordinary young guy.
He'd never fought in any wars, never resisted an alien invasion, never invaded aliens himself. His record was spotless, nothing worth noting at all.
Jimmy nodded. "A little, yeah. But I've seen plenty of stuff like this. In my world, two countries went to war and their soldiers livestreamed the fighting. I got curious and watched a ton of it back then. I'm used to footage of people getting blown to pieces."
Finn listened, thought for a moment, then asked, "What was your old job?"
A teammate's profession was closely tied to their skills. If someone was an engineer, their expertise might come in handy during a mission. Even a chef who could whip up a great meal would be welcome.
"I'm a dance streamer. I do anime dances in the dance section on YooToob," Jimmy answered.
"Dance section? Anime dances?" Finn was stunned.
"Yeah, I'm a streamer in YooToob's dance section. I do anime dances on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and street dances on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. The fans there all really like me."
"Um... people actually watch you dance?" Finn looked Jimmy up and down, clearly skeptical.
Jimmy was average-looking, not particularly buff or well-built. Even if you sent him out as a male escort, no rich sugar mamas would probably want him.
"I've got over five hundred thousand fans," Jimmy said with a proud grin. Then he lowered his voice. "Bro, you have no idea. Put on a little makeup, wear less clothes, and a ton of girls come simping for me."
Finn looked totally bewildered for a second, then it clicked. Jimmy’s world probably had completely different standards of beauty. Different worlds had totally different values, aesthetics, and outlooks on life—there was nothing strange about it.
Jimmy pulled his phone out of his pocket, swiped around a couple times, and realized it was already broken.
He looked disappointed. “Finn, my man, I was gonna show you, but my phone’s dead. If you ever make it to my world, make sure you follow me, okay?”
“Sure,” Finn answered absentmindedly, his mind already turning to how he was going to find the World Nucleus.
He had arrived on this planet aboard Su-Jin’s starship via an inter-world jump. While they were still in outer space, Su-Jin had circled the ruined, scarred planet once. She eventually picked up strong energy fluctuations coming from this particular continent.
But there was something weird about it—the closer they got to the planet’s surface, the weaker the energy fluctuations became. The farther away they were, the stronger the signal grew.
It went completely against common sense. Su-Jin suspected it had something to do with the World Nucleus’s special properties.
Finn had wanted her to keep searching with the starship, but she was in a hurry to join the once-in-a-century Endless Worlds Veteran Drivers’ Racing Competition. She dropped him and Jimmy on the ground and blasted off.
Still, Finn had a high-energy detector in his hand that could pick up the World Nucleus’s energy signatures. He figured he’d just wander around this wasteland world for now and search at random.
Along the cracked highway pavement, Finn led Jimmy deeper into Black Mountain.
Black Mountain had once been a massive metropolis where millions chased wealth and dreams, but the nuclear war had come and wiped everything out.
The towering buildings ahead were crumbling to pieces. Most were nothing but concrete skeletons now, with low shacks slapped together against the ruined walls. In the distance inside Refuge City, several brown chimneys stabbed straight into the sky, belching out thick gray smoke.
The deeper they walked into Refuge City, the busier and more alive it felt. After all, this was a major Refuge City—plenty of wasteland survivors huddled together here just to stay warm and safe.
Rusty water towers sat on top of two-story shacks. Wooden utility poles leaned crookedly, and wires as thick as fingers swayed in the wind.
The streets were full of people coming and going. Most had long guns slung over their shoulders; at the very least, they carried a fat black pistol tucked at their waists.
A few ox carts loaded with goods rolled past. The drivers had black pipes clenched between their teeth, bullet belts wrapped around their waists, cowboy hats on their heads, and leather boots on their feet. They looked exactly like tough, hard-bitten western cowboys.
Finn noticed one thing: a lot of the men and women carrying long guns had their hair dyed red and green, and they strutted down the street with arrogant, domineering swagger.
He remembered the motorcyclist he had blown away with a nuclear rocket launcher right before entering Black Mountain—the guy’s hair had been dyed the exact same red and green.
Plenty of people on the street pointed at Finn and Jimmy, talking about them openly, without the slightest attempt to hide it. Clearly, outsiders didn’t come through here very often.
But Finn paid them no attention. He wandered through Refuge City, turning corners and circling around until he found a three-story rundown building that looked like an inn.
This inn was called Michael’s Inn. The rusty sign swung back and forth in the wind, looking like it could drop off at any second. Finn gave it a quick glance and walked straight into the first-floor lobby.
“Boss, we need a room,” Finn barked.
Behind the steel-plated counter, a scrawny old man was lounging in a chair. One of his eyes was a dark empty socket, and half his right ear was missing.
Hearing Finn’s shout, the old man lifted his drooping eyelids, slowly stood up, and slipped a revolver into his hand at the same time.
“Stranger, huh? Rare guest,” the old man rasped in a hoarse voice. “Price list is hanging on the wall. Check it yourself.”
Finn looked up at the price board behind the counter. The metal board was dented and pitted all over, with several bullet holes punched through it.
[Single room: 10 dollars a night, or 30 rounds of standard caliber ammo.]
[Double room: 15 dollars a night, or 45 rounds of standard caliber ammo.]
“Don’t you have any deluxe double rooms here?” Finn asked offhandedly.
“What the hell are you on about?” the old man snapped, clearly impatient. “Got any money?”
“Nope,” Finn answered flat out.
The old man suddenly gripped his revolver tighter. With a sharp click, he cocked the hammer. His single eye turned razor-sharp in an instant.
Answering “no money” so boldly like that was usually the setup for a robbery. The young guy standing there was empty-handed, but the old man was already ready to put a bullet in him at the slightest move.
“I’ve got something worth more than money,” Finn said. He reached into Jimmy’s backpack, pulled out a 1500ml bottle of pure water, and set it down on the counter with a solid thunk.
The plastic bottle had the word “Evian” printed on it.
This was obviously not Jimmy’s irradiated water—it was pure water Finn had pulled from his storage space. To avoid spooking the old man with his “pulling stuff out of thin air” trick, he decided to play it safe.
On the counter covered in brown stains, the 1.5-liter bottle of pure water sparkled crystal clear. A beam of sunlight cut through the transparent plastic, refracting a beautiful shimmer.
The old man’s single eye suddenly flew wide open, the cloudiness in it clearing up in an instant. He carefully snatched the bottled water, tucked the revolver into his belt, then slowly unscrewed the cap. He gently tipped out a single drop and let it fall into his palm.
He stuck out his tongue and licked up the clear droplet. Right away, the wrinkles on his face smoothed out, and a look of pure bliss spread across his old, orange-peel skin.
“Grade Three pure water!”
The old man smacked his lips, full of admiration. He pressed his mouth to the bottle opening and took a long, deep suck, like he wanted to chug the whole thing but couldn’t bear to waste even a drop.
After that tiny sip, his whole body seemed to loosen up. He was completely lost in it, as if he hadn’t just drunk a mouthful of water but a glass of two-hundred-year-aged top-shelf whiskey.
“Is this bottle enough?” Finn asked.
“Plenty! Two honored guests, you can stay a whole week with no problem at all,” the old man said with a big grin. He quickly screwed the cap back on tight, terrified even a bit of vapor might escape.
Finn gave a small smile. Sure enough, in this wasteland world full of pollution and radiation, water—the source of life—was the most valuable hard currency.
And the 1.5-liter “Grade Three pure water” that the old man treated like a priceless treasure had been bought by Finn before he crossed into this world. At a supermarket running a huge clearance sale, he had dropped 140 dollars on three full cases—sixty bottles!
Of course, the supplies in Finn’s storage space were far more than just this…