Leticia woke to find herself wrapped like a mummy on an operating table.
An orange-red–haired woman was working on the mess in her abdomen.
"You…"
"You're awake. Easy. You're a gene-tuned military augment, so you heal fast—but fractures don't knit that easy. Your liver's shredded by the round; I'm keeping you stable with emergency supports, but you'll need a prosthetic transplant. Buuut…"
The woman eyed her. "You got money left? Conservatively—a hundred grand to get you whole."
Leticia rolled her eyes and blacked out again.
Orange sighed. "Another bankrupt stray. Fine. Then you'll work off the debt."
Emergency over, Orange stepped into the factory bay. Li Pan and Caizi were halfway through a full tear-down on the little grocery getter: ripping out seats, washing the chassis, scrubbing off blood, swapping the engine, reinforcing the frame, paint, weld, bolting on plates—turning it into a Vortex-Gang style trash-war buggy.
Spray gun in hand, Caizi griped, "It's a hot car you grabbed—just ditch it already…"
From under the car, Li Pan welded away.
"Watch your mouth! I bought this. And you gotta love every car—that's how it pays you back with every last horsepower!"
Caizi's eyes practically spun out of her skull. In her head she'd probably already cursed this fussy boss a few hundred times.
"Li—our newbie is out of danger. Pick up an artificial liver and she'll recover."
Orange walked over. "But, listen—you're very enthusiastic about 'recruiting,' and that's great, but payday's coming.
"Forget payroll and social insurance—this factory needs water, power, rent. That's 300k bare minimum. If NCPA's spooks want their tea money, that's another 200k to make it go away. And that hangar in the sky? Renewal is, what, 1.5 million a month?
"We only gross 1.7 million a month. The trucks and salvage rigs are leased. We're in the red on fixed costs alone—never mind everything else.
"Oh—and Vortex Gang stopped by. You promised 50k/month to watch the door. You really gonna operate on credit?
Premium account or not, three months of revolving deficits downgrades credit—they'll kill the card."
Li Pan slid out and wiped the grease off his face.
"…Right. On that—I hired another security team. All ex-mil. 800k in monthly salaries; 300k up front to settle them in. Can you place them…?"
Orange: "Huh??"
"Relax. We can float three months on the card. I've got a plan. Bread will come. Milk will come. Everything will come.
"Caizi, I tuned the suspension—take it round the block, break it in, and hang a Vortex plaque while you're out—we'll shave whatever costs we can. And pick up a synth-liver. Put it on my card."
Face full of disgust, Caizi climbed into the rattling tin can, the little trash-skin hot hatch coughing to life as she rattled off to run errands.
Li Pan turned to Orange. "You check the Todai campus?"
Orange nodded, then shook her head. "Did a loop. Lockdown. Word is Akai Tengu stole something. Security Bureau put up tape and is combing the grounds—no getting in. Is this solid intel this time?"
Li Pan studied her. "You're in with the cyberpunks—someone can reach Akai Tengu. Ask."
Orange blinked—then got it. "You mean Dahe, he…"
Li Pan nodded. "I checked. They hit SEC. A testbed of cutting-edge weapons—possibly top-tier companies involved. This is not a joke.
"Right now the Bureau's Divisions 3, 4, 5, and 7 are on it. Tell the kid to pull out while he can."
Not a joke indeed. Not just the Bureau—SEC diplomatic notes landed on HQ's desk. They say 0213007 assisted an SEC councilor, who wanted to thank him and enlist his help recovering assets—only to learn 007 is dead.
An astronaut dies to a nuke? What black tech is that? The SEC committee was rattled, all clamoring to buy the death report. TheM Legal was now underwater.
And rumor had it SEC's missing mechs were plug-and-play with weapon pods.
Akai Tengu already shouldered enough blame-pans, but with god-tier hardware in play, greedy hands multiply. When everyone scrambles, stray rounds turn you into dead meat.
Orange understood. People like them—pigeon-coop suburb class—deal with NCPA at most; most have never seen a real Security Bureau badge, let alone an SEC councilor. She ran to ping the cyberpunk fixers.
Li Pan went to see Leticia.
"Drop the act. Your chance to live is here. Whether you catch it is on you."
Leticia glared.
"Don't bother. Ask whatever—you'll get nothing."
Li Pan snorted.
"I need to ask? You don't know jack. Everyone's yanked your shorts down and you still 'know nothing.'
"Here. Recognize these people?"
He played her the 'party favors' video.
Leticia froze—then sat bolt upright, teeth bared; her stitches tore and bled.
Li Pan eyed her.
"So you do recognize them. What are you, then? Off-world illegals? Or black-market bios?"
Leticia clenched her jaw. Silence.
"Not talking? Fine—I'll guess."
He settled his breath, formed seals—thumbs tapping between index, middle, ring, now touching now parting, fast as light—his eyes sparking like arc lamps; a thin mist puffed from nose and mouth, frosting the air.
To bystanders he'd look like a data-jack shorting out into a Parkinson's fit.
But—no. This was Orthodox Dao.
Heavenly-Derivative Divine Calculus.
In plain words: open the heaven-eye.
Li Pan was now Refining Qi to Spirit—a landbound True Lord, a god on earth (the lite edition).
He'd watched enough of Li Qingyun's math and Li Xuehong's Blood-Talisman numerics. He couldn't push the Book to "three thousand back, five hundred forward," but the She-Wolf's last two days? He could reconstruct.
"These arts don't conjure miracles; they're a way to bind clues and line up cause and effect. What becomes 'true' depends on your own cultivation, whether someone's veiled the heavens, whether a hand is on the scale."
He didn't mind. Worth a try.
"…Mm… mm… Got it."
Eyes like searchlights, he stared until Leticia's hairs stood on end; she clutched her chest.
"W-what are you doing?!"
"I've heard your wolves' homeland rising was crushed long ago.
"Wolves are extinct. What's left are housebroken slaves—kenneled hounds for dirty work.
"While you were out, Orange scanned you. No cranial chip, no QVN jack. So you're not a cross-worlder—you're a local bio-construct.
"My guess: your master runs an illegal wet-lab in Night City. You're off the books, so you shake by with merc gigs, day labor, pit fights.
"A master that capable? Likely a high elder with real clout—someone who can rewrite Night's alert nets whenever she pleases, letting you den in the Opera House under the vampires' noses while other Night Riders never spot you.
"She may not be of the three Prince houses, so no official Night Rider allotments or siring rights—but she can stash an invisible strike team in Tokyo Underground to erase rivals at will.
"I staked out your sewer den—all night—caught nothing. Couldn't guess where you'd gone.
Now it's clear: we were late.
"Your master saw K had found you and was running you down below. Time to go. She pre-staged you to orbit.
"For the Duchess kill, she knew the Duchess was wounded and her guard dead, so she seized the chance. With a mole feeding her the train's coordinates, she teamed with a local fleet officer—an invisible scout cruiser slipped to LEO, flipped on a guiding field, pulled your transporter in, then airdropped you for the strike.
"Classic Mars-MM play. The plan should've included exfil: expendable rockets to haul you back to the cruiser—and perhaps dispose of all of you to tie off loose ends.
But things went wrong, and a few rats slipped the net.
"No matter. Their comfort in calling Security on you means you don't know who your 'masters' are. No chip—no data—just a leash. You follow the alpha—a broken-in pup.
"They say 'bite,' you bite. They say 'die,' you die…"
Li Pan crouched by her bed.
"Still don't get it? Your pack is dead. From here on, you're a loner.
"So—which way will you run? Where do you go?"
"—Aaah!"
Leticia convulsed—defense broken—and lunged to bite. The anesthetic still had her; she slid off the bed and split her lip on the floor.
Li Pan tossed her back on the mattress and jammed a liquid nutrient into her hand.
"Lie still. Think. No rush. Heal up. Work off the hospital bill—then decide where you're going and what you'll be."
He checked her pulse and breath against chip telemetry, then replayed the chain on his fingers. He was eight or nine parts confident.
He couldn't be certain the master was Yulia—but that these wolves were illicit hounds? That much fit.
He'd searched Leticia top to bottom—no Duchess chip. Likely her call was bluff, just bait to make Amakusa send help—to save wolves.
A desperate gambit—and it failed. No aid—just hunters.
Which meant the chip never mattered. Amakusa wasn't trying to topple Night with Emilius intel; in this caper he might not even be wearing his Akai Tengu leader identity. He was just selling ships.
For the master, the chip mattered even less. The Duchess was stepping down anyway; her death just splinters House Emilius further and accelerates the handover.
Whoever that master is—they're at least Elder class—and their aim is the throne.
One Prince seat is a knife fight; two makes it winnable.
Among vampires, the gap between Prince/Elder/Knight is a chasm. Miss the step and your "youth eternal" becomes a blood-beast fate.
If Li Pan hadn't opened all these windows, maybe they wouldn't have jumped to regicide.
Recruiting, stabling deadmen—any ambitious lord does it, stacking chips for the eventual all-in.
And when the all-in lands—and you have troops and authority—who doesn't step forward?
Li Pan knew he wouldn't resist either. Men die for wealth; birds for grain. Wave one trillion as bait and he's on the hook.
Politics is zero-sum. Winner takes all.
"Gift from Heaven unclaimed—blame yourself;
Hour arrived, no action—bear the harm."
If you won't fight when the opening's in your face, go home and be a country squire.
He'd sketched the board. Unknowns remained: Was Yulia truly the master? If so, how deep was she in with Akai Tengu, Fabius, the Collectors?
Is she a member of the anti-corporate alliance in embryo?
Or just chasing a promotion? Even being used?
Or is she just a front, with something bigger behind?
He'd probe that tonight.
Their meeting was set at the Reincarnation Bar.
With two Princes dead, wolves and Akai Tengu rampaging, the Elders were skittish, holed up in the Senate.
At such a public moment, Yulia couldn't stroll out in her official Elder frame to meet TheM's manager—the guy who'd just hammered Night—so she proposed her private frame, in the Underground's Reincarnation.
Fair. As Nana said, the bar wasn't safe either—the owner had changed. Private guards and plainclothes everywhere; any junkie out of dress code was refused.
Li Pan's dress code didn't pass either, but Ninth Yin, Fourth Turn gives a presence of its own. He traded a glance with the doorman, then put a fist the size of a ham in his face—three blows and a kick embedded the bouncer in the ceiling. He walked in through the front and… stopped. Plopped on a barstool and waited.
When the armed guards stormed in and saw the nutjob who'd busted in only to order a glass of water, they figured he was a broke fight-addict. Since he was paying, they didn't bother picking a fight—just swore and dispersed.
An hour nursing a ¥50 water, and finally a robot hostess arrived with the Julius rose card.
He followed her into a private room in VIP, to meet a clone-bio of Yulia—same frame, dress, heels, even perfume as their first meeting—i.e., practically naked.
"Well, long time no see, Elder Yulia. Busy, huh? Stood me up an hour."
This time Li Pan could breathe and think. No pressure aura—either he'd leveled up, or this vamp frame wasn't Elder-grade, more like an illegal rebel mod.
Unlike her earlier heat, Yulia's tone was ice.
"Your hacker is decent."
Li Pan shrugged, peeling off raincoat and respirator. "Talking about what?"
A thin smile.
"You tailed K hunting the wolves—with a homunculus tag on them.
"You called me mid-hunt and came here without changing. That hound is in your hands, isn't it?"
Clearly, Night's hackers had restored part of what -18 had fried and traced the grab to Li Pan.
He didn't bother denying it. In this city, the chips may be wiped, the cloud may be edited, but every street cam's EDR 'black box' keeps solid-state backups. Unless you physically destroy them all, forensics can rebuild the scene—tedious work NCPA rarely enjoys, but doable.
Her chosen tack also told him what he wanted: Yulia was indeed the 'master' and knew he'd poached her hound. Masks off, then.
Li Pan kept the act.
"Oh, the coat? My suit's at the cleaner's. Raincoats are Night City's top seller. You don't know? Once dry season ends, acid rain doesn't stop. Air is full of industrial runoff, dust, biohazard.
"Country folk like us can't afford posh molecular shields. We'd wrap ourselves in stainless steel if we could. Can't strut around bare-hipped and bare-thighed like you. So—military raincoat it is.
"Eleven eighty-five. Fits great."
She rolled her eyes.
"Spare me. I'm busy. You didn't call me over a dog. Talk."
Li Pan looked her over.
"Oh? The woman who groveled last time is cocky now? What—got this round in the bag? Already elected Regent?"
Chin lifted, Yulia smiled.
"I'm a few votes short. But my husband, Pompeius, has already been elected. When he ascends to Prince, he'll arrive with twelve legions."
Li Pan gaped. "You're married?! And you still play the Asura-kai games? Your husband doesn't mind?"
"…"
Li Pan glanced at her legs.
"Tsk. Those at the top can stomach what others can't. To gather talent, they'll do anything—wear any color of hat.
"Impressive. Truly. Don't tell me he's the watch-from-the-corner type?"
For once, Yulia actually looked provoked.
"Enough. It's a dynastic alliance—a political marriage. We play how we please. None of your concern. You think this leverage lets you blackmail me?"
Li Pan pulled a chip. "Perish the thought. I came to do business. To show sincerity, I'll hand you my own handle. Dare to read it?"
Yulia smirked—seen it all—and hiked her skirt, sliding the chip into the thigh slot…
"Are—you—mad?! You want a Grail!? Who's the idiot feeding you inside help? This plan is insane! Do you want a war?!"
There it is—the correct face when reading 'Holy Grail Bidding War · Plan A.'
Judging by that, Yulia's camp doesn't want war.
Which tracks—she just fought her way to the top of 0791.
Triggering a Grail War with TheM now—who knows who wins, but the first head off will be the fresh Regent.
Li Pan shrugged.
"Yeah, I think Plan A was rash too. That's why I'm here to invite you in.
"Interested in teaming up? We split the money."
.
.
.
⚠️ 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."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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