The battle ended, leaving Cosmic Space eerily silent.
Zhou Tianming couldn't hear any sounds from the Junk Guild below, only seeing dust clouds suspended in the gray void of space.
Occasional explosions would disperse the dust, revealing glimpses of the devastated surface.
Shrinking his neck, he scanned his surroundings as White Rabbit helpfully marked all visible objects within his field of view.
A quick glance.
He sighed in relief—no other spaceships were present.
His actions had gone unnoticed.
"White Rabbit! Let's move out. We'll stay away for a few days before returning!"
The electromagnetic railgun at the bow of Black Tortoise retracted and transformed, while Black and White Pisces crouched low.
There was no time to absorb any disguises—they had to make a quick escape.
Days later, Black Tortoise returned.
The Junk Guild was now completely silent, devoid of life.
As Black Tortoise approached cautiously, no ships emerged from the debris.
Zhou Tianming wore a strange expression: "Did I accidentally flex so hard I wiped out all the pirates?"
Entering the planet's surface range, the floating dust had settled, revealing a warped metallic landscape—sunken here, jutting there. The once-standing city had vanished, leaving only toppled ruins.
Following the Junk Guild's city map, Zhou Tianming arrived at what was once Treasure Mountain Warehouse.
Unsurprisingly, only barren ground remained—everything had disappeared.
Staring at the scene, Zhou Tianming felt a headache coming on.
How was he supposed to find the special metals he needed in this wasteland?
Clutching his chest, he felt nothing but icy despair.
Time flowed silently—five years passed in a blink.
February CE67, Copernicus City, Lunar Surface
In a basement, three people sat around a square metal table.
A scruffy middle-aged man examined a fist-sized metal block emitting faint white fluorescence. Across from him sat a grandfather and grandson pair.
The elder, in his sixties, had white hair and beard, his face lined with wrinkles but his body still robust.
The boy appeared about seventeen, youthful with freckles still dotting his face.
After prolonged scrutiny, the scruffy man set the metal down: "Never seen this before. I'll give you 10K for it if you really want to sell."
"How many ounces?" The old man's voice remained steady.
"Ounces?" The scruffy man scoffed derisively, "Are you crazy? I meant the whole piece. 10K is already inflated. Selling or not?"
The old man stared silently.
After a minute-long standoff, sweat beaded on the scruffy man's forehead. He averted his gaze and suddenly slammed the table: "Well? Selling or not!"
The boy flinched, shrinking behind his grandfather.
"Not selling!" The old man's muscular arm reached out and grabbed the metal block.
The scruffy man pressed down with a snarl, "You think you can just say no after wasting so much of my time? Playing me?" The boy nervously tugged at the old man's clothes, but the elder remained calm and unshaken.
"I'm with the Junk Guild. Go ahead, try laying a hand on me."
The scruffy man's heart skipped a beat, jerking his hand back as if scalded. He opened his mouth to retort but ultimately gritted his teeth and stayed silent. The old man retrieved the metal block and left with his grandson.
Once their figures vanished from sight, the scruffy man slammed the table repeatedly. "Damn it! Just riding on that damn guild leader's coattails! Who do they think they are?" His eyes narrowed, and he pulled out a phone. "Hey, heard business has been slow lately..."
Stepping out of the basement, the boy relaxed. "Grandpa, that was really dangerous just now."
The old man chuckled, patting the boy's head. "It's nothing. They wouldn't dare touch me."
"But... what if they aren't afraid of the Junk Guild's leader?" the boy asked worriedly.
The old man burst into laughter. "Those underground worms? How could they not fear a true dragon like him? His reputation was earned through real battles."
"Is he really that strong?"
As they walked, the old man explained, "Not just strong—unstoppable. At first, some tried to challenge him, but he single-handedly wiped out entire generations of pirates and mercenaries with just one ship. That kind of record... impressive."
"Despite his youth, he's shrewd. And..." The old man lowered his voice, "Rumors say he's got ties to the East Asian Republic. Can't fight him, can't outmatch his backing."
He sighed nostalgically. "Compared to the Junk Guild before CE62, it's night and day."
"Grandpa, are we heading to the Junk Guild next to sell?"
"Right. Thought I'd save time, but if they don't know quality and try to lowball us..." The old man smirked coldly. "No wonder their business is dying. Let's go to the Wastes—perfect for ship repairs. This round trip's been brutal."
L3 Sector, the Wastes
A spherical structure with a massive quarter-sized gap covered by a transparent, high-strength dome revealed a hollow interior.
Countless spaceships came and went from the spaceport on the Wastes' far side, while others without docking space floated in cosmic space, their passengers ferried in by shuttles. Inside, the city was meticulously zoned, directing visitors to designated areas.
At the center stood a towering spire—the administrative heart of the Wastes and the Junk Guild's headquarters.
In an office behind a vast floor-to-ceiling window, Liu Qing spoke into a communicator. "Tian Ming, aren't you coming back? The junk dealers are about to revolt."
"Revolt my ass!" Zhou Tianming grumbled. "I still haven't settled accounts with those old geezers for using my name! And 'King of the Wastes'? Who came up with that ridiculous title?"
Liu Qing stifled a laugh. "They mean no harm. Besides, you earned that title yourself."
"Didn't expect them to be so cringey. I just cleared out some trash to save myself the hassle."
"Not everyone dares to clean up this wave of junk," Liu Qing sighed, then abruptly changed the subject. "This time, you must come back. We have news."
"Really? Where was it found?"
"An old man brought it, but what he has doesn't match your description—it's solid."
"Solid?" Zhou Tianming's heart leaped with joy. "Perfect! That's exactly what I need. I'll be right back!"
Cosmic Space, Black Tortoise
Zhou Tianming hung up the call, elated. Finally, they had found it.
Back then, faced with a ruined Junk Guild, he had been at a complete loss and had no choice but to turn to his grandfather, Zhou Junguo, for help.
When Ying Shaojun learned of the news, he was astonished by what Zhou Tianming had done and immediately mobilized national resources to assist with the reconstruction.
The only condition was that the Junk Guild had to secretly remain under East Asia's jurisdiction.
Since Zhou Tianming had no use for a Satellite on his own, he handed it over to East Asia.
But just as the Junk Guild's reconstruction was halfway done, the Junk Dealers caught wind of it and rushed over.
These shameless old men wasted no time in pushing him into the seat of the Junk Guild's chairman.
Naturally, Zhou Tianming refused. But if they played dirty, he wouldn't hold back either. His first act upon taking office was to disband the Junk Guild. Unexpectedly, the old-timers didn't care at all—they had already decided he was their leader and busied themselves helping him search for the mysterious metal.
True to their reputation as the pioneers of scavenging, the Junk Dealers managed to unearth the mysterious metal from the Junk Guild within a few months.
At this point, Zhou Tianming had no choice but to accept the situation, though he laid down new rules for them.
To his surprise, they were thrilled. With Zhou Tianming as their connection, their relationship with East Asia warmed rapidly.
Unable to manage everything alone, Zhou Tianming leveraged Zhou Junguo's influence to turn the Junk Guild into a training ground for East Asia's administrators—graduation required an internship there first.
Given the Junk Guild's nature, it naturally attracted all sorts of people, making it the perfect place for interns to broaden their horizons.
East Asia didn't openly expose the Junk Guild's affairs, keeping it under the Junk Guild's name. But anyone with eyes could see East Asia's hand in it. Over the years, under East Asia's management, the Junk Guild grew increasingly prosperous, and everyone tacitly accepted it.
The Atlantic and Eurasia, of course, weren't about to let this slide. They rallied the remnants of pirates and mercenaries to launch an attack.
Unfortunately for them, they ran straight into Zhou Tianming, who was frustrated by the stalled development progress.
Needless to say, he vented his anger by cutting through them like a storm, then happily went to the Atlantic to claim the bounty on their heads.
No one knew who first called him the "King of the Wastes," but the title spread like wildfire.
Eurasia, naturally, refused to let things end there. But then the Junk Guild spoke up, declaring they had always been a neutral organization and never joined East Asia.
The reason for the change in management? The previous administrators, backed by the Atlantic, had caused major disasters. Were they not allowed to replace them now? The Atlantic and Eurasia had no rebuttal but waited to see the Junk Guild fail. Instead, under East Asia's management, it flourished—not just on the surface, but even its underground operations surpassed theirs.
The humiliation was so loud it echoed, leaving them no choice but to slink away in defeat.
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