After an hour under a cold shower at the hotel, Li Pan finally forced himself to calm down.
Okay, thinking it through, raking in that much money isn't really something to get excited about.
You close a 10-trillion contract for the company and they toss you 16.6 billion—what's there to celebrate?
And what is 0791, anyway? A battlefield that could sink into the sea at any moment.
Besides, he didn't even have that much cash on hand—everything was either funds, or stock, or real estate; in a time of chaos those are all just piles of scrap paper.
Looking closer with that in mind—huh, of course!
That woman Yuliya had hand-picked the 4-billion transfer: the stocks she signed over were all holdings and property titles tied to assets on 0791, not a single thing off-world.
In other words, sure, she'd paid the deposit, but if a corporate war really did break out and 0791 got bombed into a wasteland, she could just turn around, run back to Daddy, and she wouldn't actually lose much of anything.
Same deal with Panlong Construction. Yes, the 8.6 billion was real, but "Night City Development & Investment Fund," "Pacific Environmental Protection Fund," "Long-term PMC Contractor Agreement"—two ten-year funds and a one-year contract? You think the Tax Bureau can't tell that's laundering? They know you made money and have to spend it on 0791—this is just investment-attraction, job-creation, slow-drip projects to feed the locals.
But if even Night City itself goes away, what "funds" are there to talk about?
And in the worst case, if 0791 gets cleansed to extinction in a corporate war, the bank can just file for bankruptcy and settle. All those defaulted debts get written off as bad debt by the Tax Bureau. How do you think a behemoth like Takamagahara managed to go bankrupt?
Damn. Vicious. Capitalists—vicious to the core!
Regardless, the world hadn't ended yet, and Li Pan's account had received the first 700 million from the PMC contract—money he could actually spend.
This money was squeaky clean—he could spend it however he wanted. Buy a cruiser? Buy a motorcycle? One to ride and one to polish? All of it could be booked as company assets and deducted.
And under his QVN citizen account, he now had legally certified assets and bonds transferred by Yuliya, proof of assets worth 4 billion. As long as the QVN main server didn't crash, the Security Council didn't collapse, and Earth 0791 didn't explode, no one could seize or revoke these—sacrosanct, lawful private property under the Council's system.
That's the convenience of being a legal citizen: pay your taxes regularly and the Security Council shelters you. If you're a black-market nobody, even if someone tries to hand you money, you can't take a cent.
Now, all he had to do was retain a proper law firm, spend a few ten-millions, do the paperwork and taxes, and he could convert those authorizations into personal assets he could legally use, trade, gift, or transfer.
And he still had 7.99 trillion in war-prep funds to allocate.
He'd need that seed capital to expand and arm up, build a stargate, a star-city, a fleet, an army—and Finance would audit the whole way—but who he bought from was still his signature to decide.
If he wanted, there were still lots and lots of 0.2% commissions to skim. Heh.
Ahem—no rush. Stick to the plan.
Right on cue, the first transfers from Emilia's side began hitting his account.
Compared to the company's above-board commissions—Finance even helpfully wiring funds straight in—Emilia's kickbacks were a lot messier, always a three-act farce.
"XX Ship Leasing Co. — recovered final payment 65,000,000.00 — received. Current cash balance 15,030,XXX.XX."
"XX Cement Holdings — deposit 110,000,000.00 — received. Current cash balance 244,987,XXX.XX."
…
This batch of companies were Emilia's laundering accounts. Over the past two decades serving as Knight-Commander, these were the slush and tax-evading pipes she'd built during Night City's development—dirty-work outfits under the Emilius family.
On paper they were all perfectly legit—registered, storefronts, assets, staff, filing taxes—but they kept "yin-yang ledgers," and the managers/accountants didn't even know these sub-accounts existed.
If the Tax Bureau really wanted, they could sniff it out, but dribs and drabs of a hundred-million here and there through small and mid-sized firms? Not worth the man-hours.
And 0791 was in recovery: to keep the unemployed from joining Akaten-gou, and since it was all Night's people laundering Night's money anyway, the Bureau just looked the other way.
Though Emilia had been stripped of power and put on ice, the off-book networks—ledgers, projects, contracts, contacts—were all under her control.
She knew these accounts wouldn't stay safe for long—once the Elder Council struggle settled, they'd come for her and force her to cough it all back up—so she handed the keys to Li Pan while she could.
Yup—here are the logins, here are the wires; how you coordinate, cash out, and withdraw is your problem.
Li Pan couldn't pull the money yet—he balked at paying Finance a 10% cut—so he just watched the numbers tick up.
Per their agreement: 1 billion on delivery of the Grail.
After Emilia used it herself and confirmed it was genuine: another 10 billion.
After she completed the deal with the company and received 2 trillion: an 800-billion kickback.
Then, once she joined the company, they'd settle any remaining balance.
Before, a single trillion had blinded him. Now, with 38 billion of his own, he could consider it from a new vantage.
Emilia might be the family's steward, but the cashflow she could actually command—what she could liquidate at personal risk—was probably just that first 1 billion.
The Kōga ninja he'd put on her had been reporting back: she wasn't, as she'd said on the phone, lounging in the Elder Council, flirting and sending lingerie selfies.
She had illegal bodies and was actively meeting other Emilius managers and old partners.
The ninja even sent wiretaps: she was hustling everywhere, scraping loans together.
So that second 10 billion would be the ceiling of her personal network's cashable goodwill.
Sigh. No matter how brilliant a wage-earner is, they're still fundamentally different from a true heiress like Yuliya.
Your end point is someone else's starting line.
For Emilia to get this far—wheedling and strong-arming—already made her one-in-ten-thousand talent. And after all those years, her nest egg was… a measly 1 billion.
On the other side? Give someone a good time, press the right buttons, and a 4-billion asset transfer gets slapped across your face. Pocket change. No need to borrow a cent.
People shouldn't compare themselves…
Based on the ninjas' intel, Li Pan figured 11 billion of that "trillion-yuan kickback" would arrive without issue, but the later 800 billion was in danger—who knew how much would actually hit.
No matter. Eleven billion is still money. And as long as Li Xuehong dogged the Grail itself, they couldn't stir up a storm.
And since Li Pan had pre-sold Emilia out and gotten the company to set a trap, once she bit the bait and took company money, even if she bolted on the deal… where could she run?
She could slip off-world beyond his reach, but could she slip beyond the company's?
Whoever was behind her—whoever used Emilia as bait—Finance would follow the line of money and reel them in sooner or later.
Now the fish and fisherman had swapped places.
Just then, someone pinged him.
Yuliya?
"What, you need another round of therapy for your attachment disorder?"
"How dare you play me!!"
Hearing the tone, Li Pan's stomach dropped. He went cold.
"Watch your tone. I represent the company. I'm honoring my commitments.
Now calm down, breathe, hold it in—what happened?"
Yuliya took a deep breath and shared first-person view.
"See for yourself."
It was the Elder Council chamber, but everyone was silent as a grave.
Armored knights pushed a wheelchair through the hall; Yuliya and the elders rose and bowed.
As the chair passed, Li Pan saw through her eyes.
A skin-and-bones skeleton slumped there, hooked up to a blood bag.
But his sallow, withered eyes were those of a waking tiger.
A man-eating tiger.
Startled by those eyes, Yuliya instinctively broke eye contact.
Then Li Pan saw the face of the Blood Guard pushing the chair.
It was K.
Her face was white and severe, black hair slick with blood, and in those ice-blue eyes, banked fire.
Yes—not just Li Pan. K had felt the undertow beneath Night City, and she, too, sensed the killing intent unfurling under Neo-Tokyo.
Her countermeasure was basically the same as his—
If you can't win, call someone bigger.
Prince Cornelius had been awakened early.
Trouble.
The grand plan was about to fall apart.
Yuliya cut the feed. Emilia and K ignored his calls.
Transfers halted almost simultaneously. Night's information sources went dark.
The accounts held less than 800 million…
Damn it! Eight hundred million is still money!
Li Pan gritted his teeth and called Company Finance, streaming them the bank data.
"This is my kickback. You get 10%. Get it out within an hour!"
Finance thought three seconds and chirped:
"Can't be done. The other side was cautious—real operating companies, real goods. You have to create actual transactions to move funds, then clean the records, or it's a fake ledger and the Tax Bureau will pull the camera feeds and nail you."
"Twenty percent."
"Buy black gold. Buy all black gold. Right now, immediately. Flip it at least three times and get a hacker to wipe the servers clean."
"Do it. Eighteen—you get 10%. Handle it. Move!"
"On it, boss!"
After an emergency scramble—and slicing off shares—he clawed out 500 million in black money.
Ugh. Black money. Felt like he'd lost 100 million—no, 500 million…
With Night's situation flipped and a suddenly awakened prince in play, the plan's trajectory was hard to compute. He knew it was probably blown; he couldn't lie around at the hotel watching numbers tick anymore.
"Eighteen, tell everyone to work the night shift. Take cabs to HQ; I'll reimburse.
Have the ninjas locate Emilia's proxy and send me the position.
Ping TSC's Miss Lin—tell her I'm buying her fleet. I want a quote.
Call Orange—anyone slated for a run tonight goes up-ship. Prep for a jump to Callisto."
He issued orders while boarding a Paradise Hotel aircar bound for the company.
Paradise's luxury aircar, sleek as an ivory spindle, punched through the clouds and merged into the torrents of the automated expressway.
A twinge of dread prickled the back of his neck; his eyes slid off the QVN's sea of numbers.
In the corner of his vision, a premium carbon-black aircar was accelerating far above traffic regulations, peeling off the auto-drive lane and arrowing straight at him.
"Eighteen! What's with that car?"
"What car?"
What—
Before he could think, the black aircar surged alongside. Its door snapped open and a man leapt across.
His face was hidden by a multicolored glass mask—no facial features detectable at all.
Worse, the Paradise car hadn't triggered any defenses; it unlocked without warning and popped its own door—letting the man jump right in.
Right—VIP client privileges.
Li Pan snapped his Black Kite from his waist, flung his arm out, and squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The gun barked once. The bullet hit three inches before the man's face, and then seemed to strike an invisible film, caroming off at an angle.
He pulled the trigger again—and the Black Kite shattered.
The gun—and Li Pan's right hand—seemed to brush a gossamer veil, a cool spiderweb—then, a heartbeat later, crumbled to powder.
Shit. AVNDS—Anti-Violence Nano Defense System. A nanoscale defense field: any incipient act of violence is neutralized at the source.
In short: he gets to hit you, you don't get to hit him.
Trash. Rich-people trash.
Li Pan made the call: before the nano-field fully deployed, he snapped into Superhuman Fourth-Turn, True Dragon Groin-Split, scything at the attacker's shin. The slicing arc boomed like a sonic blade.
The man slipped it—raising a foot, shifting a shoulder, light as breath. He slid past Li Pan's all-out kill strike like it was nothing.
Wow. F—!
This body was at least a hundred-million-class chassis.
He knew he'd misplayed. Once the field stabilized, it'd zero his accounts; one more blow and he would shatter. Qi surged; he slipped into weasel-and-serpent twists, shoulders rolling as he threaded past the attacker's rapid steps and darting jabs.
In the cramped cabin they flickered like lightning, feint and slip—but three exchanges in, the opponent's hyper-calc cracked his footwork.
The masked man suddenly switched forms—hard boxing to Wing Chun—skated in on a toe-set, punched straight down the centerline; Li Pan didn't guard in time. The fist broke into his middle gate, through three bridges—a phoenix-eye knuckle slammed his vitals.
The impact was brutal. His cheap suit burst under the gust of the blow; three ribs snapped.
Qi-armor kept him from having his guts blasted out, but the direct hit had him spitting blood, organs roiling, meridians reversing.
Worse, it wasn't just physical—ten-thousand volts crackled. The current snapped from the man's knuckles, pierced his lung—crack—and the shock put Li Pan's lights out.
"Mother—!
—er!!"
He had never imagined his real body would be knocked out with one punch.
Li Xuehong surged up in fury, burst from the ground, and became a streak of blood ripping the sky.
Blood-Shadow God-Step—electric, stellar—fast as light, swift as a shooting star.
In a blink, trailing a crimson arc, he streaked across the skyline toward the fight.
The car door was still open; the masked assassin's right forefinger now spat a line of plasma, cutting into the smoking, blood-spitting body; he was slicing open the skull—
"Over my dead body!"
Li Xuehong dove. The man sensed something, snapped his right hand up; a circular aperture irised open in his palm. Vmmm—
A white-hot beam lanced out, grazing Li Xuehong's cheek and boring through three towers across the avenue, scything load-bearing beams.
Screams erupted as offices and apartments at mid-levels were flensed open; drifts of glass snowed onto the skywalks and the crowded streets below.
Li Xuehong didn't dodge. He slammed in head-on—blood-shadow clinging—past the AVNDS field. A sheet of red light wrapped the man: Blood Shadow Seizes the Soul.
Maybe the chassis was worth a fortune, but the spirit inside was flesh-paper. The blood wind blew the lamp; the lamp went out. In an instant, the intruder's soul was pinched dark and Li Xuehong took the body.
Before he could wrest full control, alarms blared in his head.
"Warning! Unauthorized account login detected. Antivirus engaged!"
Antivirus—
Suddenly the world went black. Night City shattered into voxels and was gone.
A colossal wall flashed into being, dropping like a mountain to crush him.
He realized in a flash—he'd been yanked into the QVN's virtual sea.
He fought to break free, but the ice-wall bore down like a mountain, and something was yanking his scalp from behind.
He wrenched his head and saw it: a steel spider-centipede latched to the back of his skull and spine, bristling with a hundred red eyes, its long tail plunging into a bottomless void, like a vine strung with crimson grapes.
The thousand-eyed iron bug spread its jaws, stabbing blade-long claws into his skull, cutting his brain, tugging his scalp—dragging him into the deepest trench of the digital abyss.
"Aaaaah—get—off—!"
His abyss-phobia detonated. He grabbed the thing on his nape and yanked. Whoom—blood-fire roared from his hands.
Scarlet flame raced down the centipede's tail into the void; the hundreds of eyes along it ignited and screamed, howling with him, a wail that rang through the entire abyss.
With a crash the spider tore free, as if he had punched through a waterfall. The digital trench shattered into a thousand shards; the real world snapped back.
He looked at his palm—there was a big flap of scalp and a piece of skull attached, with the chip slot—he'd ripped the implant right out of his head.
…Shit.
A voice spoke by his ear.
"Intelligent chip removal detected; body permissions seized. Self-destruct mode armed. Three, two, one…"
Li Xuehong booted his still-unconscious true body out of the car with a kick.
An instant later, a cerulean glow flared in his chest; seams opened like a cracking furnace.
And in a heartbeat he became pure light and heat.
BOOOOM—!
The third nuclear detonation
struck the heart of Night City.
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
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