“Ah~~” Qi Huan let out a miserable scream, hugging the doorpost with a mournful expression, rubbing his forehead back and forth in a struggle. He wanted to go, but he was so sleepy. His dramatic cries startled Quan Hai. “What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, give me a minute.” After venting his emotions, Qi Huan sighed in resignation and dashed back upstairs to change clothes. People used to a 22-hour day wouldn’t understand the pain of losing an hour of sleep every day.

“Ouch!” The sound of his footsteps abruptly stopped, replaced by a muffled groan as Qi Huan hit the stair railing, an ‘invisible weapon.’

“No need to rush, there’s still time. I’ll give you five minutes,” Quan Hai called out from the doorway, trying to hold back his laughter.

Three minutes later, Qi Huan, with two tufts of messy hair sticking up, locked the door downstairs after washing up.

“Your hair is still messy,” Quan Hai reminded him.

“This isn’t hair; it’s my antenna for connecting with the human home planet,” Qi Huan refused to admit he was too sleepy to remember, making up nonsense with a serious face.

Quan Hai: …

On their way to the meeting point, they discovered that the street next door, where the security robots were blocked last night, had partially collapsed, and the protective net made it impossible to pass. This unfortunate accident forced them to take a detour.

They jogged through two street corners, and in the dim light of dawn, they could see a six-seater convertible airship parked by the roadside. The front four seats were already occupied, leaving only the two seats in the back row empty.

The man in green sitting in the driver’s seat kept looking back, and upon seeing them, he waved his arms to beckon them, “Hurry up.”

The two of them quickly sped up and rushed over.

Once on the airship, Qi Huan, still panting, hadn’t even found the seatbelt buckle when the airship shot up into the air, scaring him into grabbing the handrail beside him tightly.

“The rear seat’s safety belt is broken, hold on tight,” Quan Hai shouted to explain to Qi Huan over the howling wind.

The cold wind hit Qi Huan’s face, making it impossible for him to open his mouth on his first airship ride. He could only nod to show he understood.

Upon closer inspection, the airship was quite old, creaking all over. The seat leather was worn at two corners, revealing padding stained a deep yellow, and the paint on the handrails was mostly peeled off, making it prickly to hold.

The food store also had an old airship, its body covered in scratches, with at least ten spots where the paint was chipped, no matter where you stood. But Wan Laoda cherished it greatly, only using it when he needed to personally deliver goods to big clients. Qi Huan didn’t understand before, but after comparing it to this rugged airship, he realized the food store’s airship was practically the top version available to the base’s natives.

As Qi Huan was trying to adapt to the bumpy air currents, a man in a work vest in the front row turned around, gave him a cold look, and scolded Quan Hai with some dissatisfaction, “Next time, be quicker. It’s not just the two of you here.”

“Alright, sorry about that,” Quan Hai replied without much argument.

Qi Huan also nodded apologetically.

The man wasn’t satisfied, glaring at Qi Huan’s hand on the protective frame, “Are you okay? Coming here with one hand is just causing trouble. Whose fault is it if we miss the time?”

Quan Hai raised an eyebrow and retorted, “I told Mang Ge to leave on time, no need to wait for us.”

The vest man was at a loss for words, grumbling as he turned back, “You say that, but if we really left you behind, you’d blame others.”

It won’t affect your relationship with your teammates, right? Qi Huan looked at Quan Hai with a face full of apology.

“It’s fine, he just likes to bully newcomers,” Quan Hai mouthed, indicating not to worry.

To the north of the base was a massive hexagonal metal pit, covering an area equivalent to ten football fields. The pit bottom was filled with dense hexagonal grids, looking like a giant gray-black honeycomb from above, vast and cold.

In the morning light, about twenty to thirty figures could be seen scattered around the pit’s edge.

Mang Ge, the man in the driver’s seat, was also the owner of the repair shop where Quan Hai worked. He skillfully maneuvered the old airship, circling in the air before choosing one of the four mostly empty sides of the metal pit to land.

Once Mang Ge stood at the pit’s edge, the other three people from the airship scrambled for positions on either side of him.

Quan Hai, however, left a gap of about ten meters, taking Qi Huan to the far left. The standard distance between each position was five meters, which was considered ‘customary,’ allowing for easy communication while maintaining a personal ‘territory.’

“What are they doing?” Qi Huan asked, puzzled.

“Jockeying for position,” Quan Hai whispered. “Mang Ge has been coming here often from the start, knows the docking habits of airships from each star domain, and he’s lucky. The spots he picks usually have good stuff, so everyone wants to be close to him.”

“He’s a lucky charm,” Qi Huan realized.

Quan Hai didn’t understand, “What?”

“Just saying he’s got good luck,” Qi Huan laughed it off. Speaking of which, he used to have pretty good luck too. He always got into the elective courses he wanted in college, won big prizes like overseas trips in mall raffles, and always rolled the highest-tier gear in games.

Quan Hai opened his backpack, took out an empty one, and handed it to Qi Huan. “Put the bag in front later, or your stuff might get snatched.”

Qi Huan took the backpack, opened it, and glanced at the others. Except for Mang Ge, everyone had an empty backpack hanging in front of them. The position jockeying had settled, with the work vest man taking the spot between Mang Ge and them, and the tall skinny guy in the passenger seat taking the spot to Mang Ge’s left.

“Why doesn’t Mang Ge carry a bag?”

“He has a space bag,” Quan Hai pointed to the triangular white copper belt buckle on Mang Ge’s waist.

It looked like an ordinary belt buckle at first glance. According to Quan Hai, Mang Ge found it in a pile of goods, fixed it, and started using it. It could hold half an airship’s worth of stuff, taking up no space and being safe.

In Qi Huan’s understanding, it might be a bag using space-folding technology, with the buckle as the ‘entrance.’

“This is just a low-tier version. The high-tier ones can supposedly hold our base’s command hall and even pets,” Quan Hai whispered.

Qi Huan was dumbfounded.

During their conversation, two groups of people abandoned their original spots and moved closer to them, clearly drawn by Mang Ge’s reputation for luck.

However, the pit edge was about two hundred meters long, and the six of them didn’t take up much space.

Ignoring the gradually lengthening ‘line’ beside them, Quan Hai took out two tubes of nutritional agents, handed one to Qi Huan, and while drinking, shared some ‘tips’ with him. “If there’s a small device or robot next to you, prioritize checking its energy box. Energy stones are easy to sell, small, and convenient to carry. If it’s a large component fragment, look for those with a mirror-like texture, high-grade metals. If you’re lucky, you might find gray iron, which looks like a gray-black mirror from afar, with water ripple patterns on the surface up close. You might also come across some random gadgets. If you’re unsure, call me to check if it’s worth taking. Or just put it in the bag, like the energy stones, and check it out later.”

Qi Huan nodded frequently, having just browsed the command hall’s purchase page yesterday, he now had a rough idea of what energy stones looked like.

“And the most important thing, remember, safety first! There’s only ten minutes. Once you hear three whistle blasts, come back immediately, don’t be greedy. Otherwise, when the trash chute opens, you’ll fall with the garbage and be doomed.”

“Got it,” Qi Huan obediently replied. With his hand inconvenient, he was just here to gain some experience today, not expecting much in terms of loot.

The two squatted by the side, chatting and waiting. After another twenty minutes, Qi Huan’s legs were numb from squatting when a sleek, spindle-shaped starship finally appeared on the horizon, bathed in sunlight.

Seeing the shadow, everyone at the metal pit’s edge stood up. Qi Huan stomped his numb feet, about to move to the outermost position when Quan Hai pulled him back, signaling him to stay put while he took the outermost spot.

“You’ll easily get your spot taken if you’re on the edge,” Quan Hai raised his eyebrows at Qi Huan, shaking his arm to transform it into six ‘clawing’ tentacles. In this kind of speed contest, his six arms were like having a triple-speed cheat.

Qi Huan smiled and gave Quan Hai a thumbs-up, standing where he was as planned.

Not just Quan Hai, many around them had already transformed into their beast forms, ready to pounce. Qi Huan took a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of tension as if he were about to compete.

The starship moved swiftly, reaching the base in the blink of an eye. Its massive hull gleamed with a cold silver-gray light, occasionally flashing with faint purple energy patterns, like a metal beast tearing through the sky, imposing and full of pressure.

The base’s protective shield opened a spherical opening, and the starship shot through it, flying over the metal pit. The surrounding air currents surged, sand and stones flying.

The sand hit the metal pit walls with a crackling sound, and Qi Huan’s cheeks and arms stung from the sand, making it impossible to open his eyes. He clung tightly to an iron ring on the pit edge, barely steadying himself.

Finally, the wind subsided a bit, and a loud clattering sound reached his ears. When he opened his eyes again, the starship’s belly hatch had closed, and it was turning towards the base’s northeast docking port.

In front of everyone was a ‘metal mountain’ of various colors, about thirty to forty meters high, right on their side.

Qi Huan couldn’t help but admire Mang Ge in his heart; he was indeed reliable!

A long whistle sounded, and everyone rushed forward like a race, charging into the pit. The metal mountain was so large that the garbage-picking crowd seemed sparse in comparison.

Busy marveling, Qi Huan’s inexperience made him a step slower, falling behind the others.

Fortunately, his usual good luck kicked in. In the area directly in front of him and Quan Hai, amidst the chaotic metal fragments, there were many robots and small machines, meaning many energy boxes could be dismantled.

Qi Huan happily picked a robot and, following Quan Hai’s tips, buried himself in dismantling it.

Some energy stones had been removed before being discarded, leaving empty boxes, making opening them a waste of effort. Plus, with Qi Huan’s left hand inconvenient, after four or five minutes, he had only managed to pack two energy stones in his backpack.

“You hollow slag, have you no shame?” He was busy dismantling yet another energy box when he suddenly heard Quan Hai cursing someone. Looking up, he realized the work vest man on his left had sneaked over, dismantling several energy boxes in front of him, only to be caught by Quan Hai.

“Just picking stuff, didn’t notice the place,” the man feigned ignorance, trying to brush it off.

“Get back!” Quan Hai threw two metal scraps at the work vest man’s feet. If he had just picked a few on the edge, Quan Hai wouldn’t have said anything, but he had already moved to the spot directly above Qi Huan, clearly bullying the newcomer.

Afraid Quan Hai would start a fight, Qi Huan quickly climbed up the metal mountain. With only a few minutes left, wasting time on such a person wasn’t worth it.

After climbing a few steps, nearing Quan Hai, something flashed not far away, stinging his eyes.

“He’s slow, can’t finish picking anyway, better if I help him here,” the man shamelessly refused to leave. He had already dismantled several energy stones, tasted the sweetness, and was reluctant to let go.

Mang Ge, hearing the commotion, also looked over. Quan Hai, furious, was about to pull the work vest man to Mang Ge for judgment when Qi Huan stopped him.

“It’s fine, let’s be fair. You help me, I help you. Whatever we pick is ours, okay?” Qi Huan pointed to the area on his left, originally belonging to the work vest man, calmly negotiating.

That area was full of random metal scraps, and the blinding reflection had come from there.

“Okay,” the work vest man nodded eagerly, “Don’t go back on your word.”

Qi Huan looked at Mang Ge, who nodded, understanding his intention. “I’ll be the witness.”

“Then let’s continue,” Qi Huan spread his hands.

Everyone resumed their work. Quan Hai wanted to speak, but Qi Huan pulled him down two steps, signaling him to look at the flashing spot, whispering, “Doesn’t it look like gray iron?”

Quan Hai was stunned, then nodded vigorously. The small machines and robots contained low-grade E and F energy stones, and their remaining energy value was uncertain. In comparison, gray iron was more valuable.

“Anyway, we’re not losing out,” Qi Huan patted his shoulder, “Four minutes left, we’ll talk later.”

Quan Hai, reassured, went back to work with his six arms, while Qi Huan followed the flashing spot, uncovering a panel to find a gray metal piece about twenty centimeters long.

It looked like some kind of bearing connector, with smooth edges except for the break, finely crafted, with three wedge-shaped holes of varying sizes. Upon closer inspection, there were faint stack-like patterns. Qi Huan guessed it was the water ripple pattern Quan Hai mentioned. He stuffed it into his backpack and continued dismantling energy boxes.

The few minutes flew by, and by the end, everyone was no longer picky, grabbing whatever they could and stuffing it into their backpacks. Qi Huan followed suit, stuffing a bunch of random items.

A long whistle sounded, and everyone immediately stopped, turning to run back.

After three whistles, the grid at the metal pit’s bottom opened layer by layer, turning into a giant multi-layer sieve. Metal pieces of different sizes rolled into different layers, sliding away with sharp, piercing sounds.

“The next process is rolling and pressing. Falling in means certain death,” Quan Hai, carrying a large backpack, walked over to Qi Huan, seeing him peering in, half-scaring, half-seriously warning him.

Qi Huan clicked his tongue, pulling back his gaze, forcing himself not to imagine the bloody scene.

“Tighten your backpack,” Quan Hai patted Qi Huan’s half-open bag.

Just as Qi Huan’s fingers touched the string, a commotion erupted in the distance. At a diagonal, across half the metal pit, six or seven people were pushing and shoving, rolling into a brawl.

“They’re probably fighting over something,” Quan Hai sighed.

Many newcomers get too excited when they find good stuff, eager to confirm it after leaving the trash pit, easily attracting envy. Those with darker hearts around them will directly snatch it. After all, there’s no security patrol robot by the trash pit, only fists matter.

Veterans like Mang Ge never open their bags by the pit, instead, he called everyone onto the old airship, flying straight back to his repair shop.

Twenty minutes later, the six of them sat in the repair area of the backyard, using the yard’s testing box to ‘inspect their loot.’