Chapter 5: The Underground Market (Corrected & Completed)
"Cockadoodledoo!" The cry of roosters woke the peaceful dawn of Hidden Moon City, stirring the inhabitants of this coastal port village. The morning sun cast its golden rays over Golden Sun Village, turning the ocean into a glowing lens that matched Mo Fang's recent optimistic mood. After three years of bad luck on the riverbed and mischief in the village, yesterday's miraculous catch felt like a new beginning for him, as if heaven was finally giving him some slack in his streak of bad luck.
"Uncle Jay! Your VIP has arrived for payout!" Mo Fang hollered, sliding to a stop on the sandy shores beside the fishing boat dancing in the morning waves, still knotted to its anchor.
Uncle Jay emerged from his shack, wiping salt-crusted hands on his apron. His weathered face split into a grin when he spotted Mo Fang. "Little Mo, right on time. Those rare beauties fetched a fine price—a total of 30,450 dollars after market cut."
Hearing the price, Mo Fang's eyes nearly popped out. Thirty thousand? Putting up a finger to count, Mo Fang dumbfoundedly counted on his fingers as he stared at Uncle Jay's grinning face. That was more seafood and farm work wages than he could count in a year!
"Uncle Jay, you're a saint! I told you the fortune teller monk is really reliable and really does bring luck!" His carefree grin stretched ear-to-ear. "Uncle Jay, you should also go to him to get your fortunes read!" Mo Fang said as he jumped up and down, talking incessantly to Uncle Jay.
The middle-aged fisherman chuckled, handing over a crisp credit chip. "Half now, and half when you come to collect the rest tomorrow. Don't go spending it all on Grandma Lin's fried arowana now."
"Never!" Mo Fang clutched the chip like a sacred relic, already sprinting toward the village square. "Gotta catch Fatty Sam and Skinny Bai before they eat the profits!" Mo Fang muttered under his breath as he paced toward the western area of the dock.
The underground market hid in plain sight behind Golden Sun Village's western docks. Despite being called "underground," the place wasn't located beneath the ground but in open sight, enclosed by dense, high concrete blocks. The underground market building could be seen from anywhere near the village, inside the concrete fence. It became a maze of hanging stalls, flickering lanterns, cloaked merchants, and individuals hawking everything legal and illegal. The air in the underground market—otherwise known as the black market—reeked of alcohol, tobacco, and many drugs.
Mo Fang shoved through the crowd, dodging elbows and scanning for his friends' unmistakable silhouettes. While searching and roaming through the crowd in search of the two friends, a place suddenly turned quiet as someone bellowed out from the eastern district of the underground market.
The market was divided into four districts: the western, the eastern, the northern, and the central district, where only high-level people were allowed to enter.
"MO BEAST!"
Fatty Sam's bellow cut through the chaos of the place, causing everyone to stop in stupor while Mo Fang and Song Bai, standing beside him, used their hands to cover their faces in embarrassment. The hefty teen waved from a cluttered stall piled high with VR gear.
"Over here, you slacker!" Song Bai called out to him, waving his hand in a bid for Mo Fang to come over.
Mo Fang squeezed through, approaching the duo with a wide smile while rubbing his hands together. While others were dressed in masks, the three youths didn't bother wearing anything to mask their faces.
"What's the haul? Do we have enough for three capsules?"
Hearing Mo Fang's question, Fatty Lou sighed while sagging his shoulders as Song Bai turned, his sharp eyes calculating. "Base model headsets? For sure. But these premium full-dive capsules..." Song Bai shook his head in dismay without finishing his words as he pointed to a sleek, coffin-sized pod. "The immersion rate is 99.9%, and the pain feedback is optional. The best part of it is that it uses one's real-life stats," Song Bai said, his voice stuttering with joy.
Fatty Sam's eyes sparkled. "With these models, we won't be depending on fishing and luck with the river again. I even heard them saying that one can gain skills by mimicking real-life movements and skills in the game while using the premium model. With this model, we can grind in Immortal World Online, cash out, and retire as village lords!"
Mo Fang's heart raced. Visions of him escaping his misfortune and trash-like living zone danced wildly in his head. "Hook me up! What's the deal?"
The vendor, who had been listening in on the boys' conversation, cleared his throat. A wiry man with a cybernetic eye leaned forward, his voice oily and scheming. "For you three brats, that would be 500,000 dollars, 200,000 dollars each, with a discount for purchasing from me." Saying so, the man paused, taking in Mo Fang's and his friends' dumbfounded expressions before continuing convincingly. "Premium stock, fresh from Eternal Federation smuggling lines. Launch in three hours."
"What the fu—"
Mo Fang choked on his words, hearing the absurd price. "Two hundred thousand?! Uncle Jay just gave me thirty thousand!"
Fatty Sam and Song Bai exchanged glances, then slapped down their credit chips in unison. 175,000 each—for four months, they had saved their fishing profits for this moment. With the transaction completed, the vendor turned his eagle-like gaze to Mo Fang with a dumbfounded and surprised expression.
"Wait—" Mo Fang stammered, clutching his measly chip. "I just need one! Can't you spot my credit?"
The vendor's cybernetic eye whirred, scanning Mo Fang's chip. "116,000 short, kid. No collateral here." Shaking his head, the man's grin turned serious all of a sudden.
Desperation hit like a market chase. Mo Fang yanked the Purple Patterned Gold Arowanas from his calabash, thrusting them forward. "These! Rarest catch in three coastal zones! Worth 30k easy!"
The vendor poked one experimentally. It flopped, gold scales flashing purple. His eye widened. "Exotic. 60k top. Still short 56,000 dollars."
Mo Fang's mind raced as he thought of various alternatives to resolve his issue. Grandma Lin's stall? Pawn his foster parents' rusted rod? No, Cosmos Online was his ticket out. He planted his feet wide apart, channeling every ounce of his trashy charisma.
"Put me on credit! Kind sir, I swear on Hidden Moon Village, I am going to bring you back full repayment by month's end. Double if you want—or even triple! Just do me this favor, and I will be back with your cash."
Mo Fang pleaded with his two hands clasped together in front of the vendor, while throwing a pitiful glance at his two friends, who had both crossed their arms as they watched his drama.
Looking at Mo Fang's cheesy plea and the time being wasted, Fatty Sam slapped his shoulder as he chipped in on his behalf. "This kid's words are good, although sometimes cringy and slippery like an eel. Trust him to return your cash, kind sir."
Song Bai nodded. "He's got some who-knows-from-where luck these days, and trust he would definitely do as he said."
The vendor drummed his fingers, his eye scanning Mo Fang's earnest face. "Fine. Month-end deadline. 90,000 dollars in total—your 56k debt plus 34k interest."
After a few minutes of consideration and looking at their pleading faces, the man nodded in agreement. "But if you default on it? Hehe... I repo the capsule and your real-life fishing rights." The man concluded, bringing out a contract slip for Mo Fang to sign, which Mo Fang did after glancing through it and reading the clauses.
Mo Fang's hand shook, sliding the chip over. 34,450 → 0 balance. Immediately the payment was received, the vendor synced it to the capsule. Ownership: Mo Fang (Credit Lien).
"Deal!" Mo Fang beamed, ignoring the panic gnawing in his gut. 90k in 30 days? He'd figure it—
The trio hauled their humming capsules back to Fatty Lou's place, which wasn't far from the underground market area. Fatty Sam's house stood out among the modest fishing homes of Golden Sun Village—a two-story concrete building with reinforced windows and a small courtyard enclosed by a low stone wall. Despite the single-income household of a widowed fisherman father, the place screamed "spoiled rich kid" through every detail.
They pushed through the heavy wooden gate into the courtyard, where Fatty Sam's customized hoverbike leaned against the wall, chrome rims gleaming under the setting sun. A massive fish tank bubbled beside the entrance, filled with exotic species that cost more than Mo Fang's yearly earnings. The trio hauled the capsules up the stone steps, past a fountain that cycled imported blue-glow algae.
Inside, the main room assaulted the senses. Oversized leather sofas dominated the space, facing a wall-mounted holo-screen three meters wide. Gaming consoles from three generations littered the floor, controllers scattered like fallen soldiers. Empty nutrient drink cans formed a small pyramid on the polished obsidian coffee table. Fatty Sam's father—a stern-faced man with salt-and-pepper hair—glanced up from his fishing ledger but said nothing, accustomed to his son's excesses.
Fatty Sam's room upstairs was a shrine to indulgence. The king-sized bed sagged under custom gaming pillows. Neon-lit shelves displayed rare beast core replicas and limited-edition VR peripherals.
"Home sweet chaos," Fatty Sam grinned, kicking aside controller cables. "Dad won't care. Told him we're 'investing in future fishing tech.'"
Song Bai raised an eyebrow at the fish tank visible through the open door. "Your definition of investing gets broader every year."
Mo Fang just stared, clutching his lien-marked capsule. 90k debt. 30 days. This room alone costs more.