Xu Liao squatted behind the broken wall of the mecha cemetery, scraping the energy crystals on the old engine with a shiny alloy piece. His fingertips were cut open, and blood drops dripped on the hot metal, instantly evaporating into a plume of white smoke.
"Fuck, another fucking piece is missing." He cursed in a low voice and stuffed the half gram of crystals he scraped off into a close-fitting cloth bag. This thing is the hard currency of Ashes City. Half a gram is enough for him to exchange for two of the most inferior nutritional ointments to survive today.
As one of the thousands of orphans in this abandoned star port, Xu Liao has long been accustomed to such days. No one cared about him as long as he could remember. He picked up garbage when he was hungry, ripped through the insulation of the mecha when he was cold, and beat him back to death when he was bullied. He lived by his ruthlessness.
