Lâm Minh spent the next two days meticulously studying the encrypted data chip from Commander Trinh.
The information on "Crimson Dream" was alarming.
Reports detailed users flying into uncontrollable rages, exhibiting surprising strength, and then crashing into debilitating paranoia or catatonia.
Autopsies, where available, showed severe neural degradation.
The link to Madakaros bio-compounds, however trace, was the most troubling aspect.
Was it a deliberate weapon?
An accidental byproduct of some alien experiment filtering into the human population?
Or something created by humans using alien materials?
The contact protocols were complex, designed for utmost secrecy.
Yan was indeed his handler, the buffer between him and the enigmatic Commander Trinh.
Emergency codes were for life-or-death situations only.
After memorizing everything, Lâm Minh crushed the chip into dust, as instructed.
His first foray into investigating Crimson Dream began subtly.
During his routine deliveries of condensate to Hạnh, and his occasional security jobs for Old Feng, he started listening more intently to the whispers and gossip that flowed through the Rust Market and the scavenger communities.
He dropped casual, carefully worded inquiries, feigning a mild curiosity about new "recreational substances" making the rounds.
The name "Crimson Dream" was spoken in hushed, fearful tones. It wasn't widely available, not like the cheap synth-alcohol or aStim-Leaf.
It was expensive, potent, and carried a terrifying reputation.
Users were called "Dreamers," and they were avoided.
Stories circulated of Dreamers tearing people apart with their bare hands, or succumbing to horrific, self-inflicted injuries during paranoid episodes.
Lâm Minh realized that simply asking around wouldn't get him far.
He needed to get closer to the source, or at least to those who were distributing it.
This meant treading into even murkier waters.
He started by frequenting some of the Rust Market's seediest dive bars and gambling dens, places where information flowed as freely as cheap liquor, and desperation was a common currency.
He used some of Old Feng's operational funds to buy drinks, listen to conversations, and occasionally, discreetly bribe low-level informants.
His Qi Refining enhanced senses were a significant advantage, allowing him to overhear hushed conversations from across crowded rooms and detect subtle shifts in demeanor that signaled lies or fear.
After several fruitless nights, he got his first break.
A jittery, emaciated informant named "Rat-tail," known for his ability to procure almost anything for a price, hinted that he knew a low-level dealer who sometimes handled "the red stuff."
Lâm Minh met Rat-tail in a filthy, rat-infested alleyway, the stench of decay thick in the air.
"This dealer," Lâm Minh said, his voice low and calm, "what's his name? Where does he operate?"
He slid a few high-denomination credit chips across a grimy, overturned crate.
Rat-tail's eyes, bloodshot and shifty, darted to the credits.
He licked his dry lips. "Name's Viper. Nasty piece of work. Hangs out at the 'Broken Mug' tavern, deep in the Slags. But he don't just sell to anyone, see? Gotta be… introduced. Or look like you got the credits and the stomach for it."
The Slags.
The deepest, most lawless part of the Rust Market, a place even hardened scavengers avoided if possible.
The Broken Mug was infamous.
"Can you arrange an introduction, Rat-tail?" Lâm Minh asked, adding another credit chip to the pile.
Rat-tail's greed warred with his fear. "Viper… he's dangerous. If he thinks you're a cop or tryin' to muscle in…."
"I'm just a curious buyer with credits to spend," Lâm Minh said, his gaze unwavering. "Make the introduction, and there's more for you."
Reluctantly, Rat-tail agreed.
The meeting was set for the following night.
Lâm Minh prepared carefully.
He dressed in his most worn, inconspicuous clothing.
He armed himself not only with his Qi-infused crowbar, concealed beneath a long, ragged coat, but also with a couple of sturdy knives tucked into his boots and belt.
He also brought a small, heavily shielded pouch containing a sample of Crimson Dream he'd managed to procure through another, more expensive, channel – just enough to appear like a user familiar with the substance if questioned.
This was a dangerous game of deception.
The Broken Mug was even worse than its reputation.
A dilapidated, multi-story wreck of a building, it throbbed with discordant music and the roar of drunken, desperate voices.
The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and the cloying, sweet-sickly undertone that Lâm Minh now recognized as the faint scent of Crimson Dream.
His Qi Sense registered a chaotic mess of agitated, unstable auras.
Many of the patrons looked like they were either high on something or dangerously close to violence.
Rat-tail, looking even more terrified than usual, met him near the entrance.
"Viper's in the back room," he whispered, his teeth chattering.
"He… he said to send you in alone. I'm outta here!" He scurried away before Lâm Minh could say another word.
Lâm Minh took a deep breath, centered himself, and pushed through the throng towards the back.
The patrons barely gave him a second glance; everyone here looked like they had a dark story to tell.
The back room was guarded by two hulking brutes with dead eyes and Madakaros-made shock batons crackling menacingly.
"Viper's expecting me," Lâm Minh said, his voice calm.
"Name's Minh."
One of the guards grunted and jerked his head, indicating he should enter.
The room was small, dimly lit by a single flickering chem-lamp.
Viper was sitting behind a scarred metal desk, idly sharpening a long, wicked-looking blade.
He was wiry, with a sallow complexion, and eyes that were cold and reptilian.
A half-smoked cigarette dangled from his lips.
The faint scent of Crimson Dream was stronger here.
"So, you're the new fish Rat-tail dragged in," Viper said, his voice a low hiss.
He didn't invite Lâm Minh to sit. "Heard you were looking for a taste of the good life. Got the credits?"
Lâm Minh slowly pulled out the small pouch with his sample.
"I'm familiar with the product," he said.
"Looking for a more reliable supplier. And perhaps… larger quantities, if the quality is right."
Viper's eyes narrowed, studying the pouch, then Lâm Minh.
"You don't look like a typical Dreamer. Too… calm."
"I know how to handle my highs," Lâm Minh replied coolly.
"And I know good product when I see it. Yours has a reputation." This was a bluff; he had no intention of ever using the drug.
His Qi Refining cultivation required a clear mind and pure Qi, not the chaotic energy Crimson Dream seemed to induce.
Viper smirked, a cold, humorless expression. "It does, doesn't it? The best damn escape from this shithole world. Makes you feel like a god. For a while."
He leaned forward. "Larger quantities, you say? That can be arranged. For a price. And I need to know you ain't a snitch for the Enforcers or some rival crew."
"I'm independent," Lâm Minh stated.
"And I value my privacy as much as you do." He placed a heavy pouch of credits on the desk – a significant portion of his operational funds.
"A down payment. For a sample of your current batch, and to show I'm serious."
Viper's eyes flickered to the pouch, then back to Lâm Minh.
He seemed to be weighing his options.
Finally, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a small, sealed vial containing a crimson-red liquid.
It pulsed with a faint, almost malevolent energy that Lâm Minh's Qi Sense picked up immediately.
It was far more potent than the sample he'd acquired.
"This," Viper hissed, "is the pure stuff. One dose will send you to the stars. Or the gutter, if you can't handle it." He pushed it across the desk. "Take it. A gift. For a new, promising customer."
Lâm Minh knew this was a test. Refuse, and he'd reveal himself. Accept…
He picked up the vial.
The liquid inside seemed to swirl with an inner light.
"To new business," Lâm Minh said, his expression unreadable.
He made a motion as if to pocket it.
"Not so fast," Viper said, his eyes glinting.
"Good faith. Try a little. Here. Now. So I know you appreciate the quality." He gestured towards a grimy shot glass on the desk.
Lâm Minh's mind raced.
Ingesting this stuff was out of the question.
It could contaminate his Qi, damage his meridians, or worse.
But refusing now would be a death sentence.
He needed a distraction. An out.
And then, his Qi Sense, which had been passively scanning the room, picked up something new.
Faint, but distinct.
Multiple agitated auras, moving quickly, converging on the Broken Mug from outside.
Not the usual drunken brawlers. These auras felt… disciplined. Armed.
Enforcers?
Or a rival gang making a move?
"Looks like you have other business pending, Viper," Lâm Minh said, his gaze flickering towards the door.
"Perhaps we should conclude our transaction quickly."
Viper frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Just then, the sounds of a commotion erupted from the main bar area – shouts, crashes, the distinct crackle of shock batons.
Viper shot to his feet, his eyes wide with alarm. "What in the blazes…?"
The two guards from outside burst into the room, their faces pale. "Boss! It's the Skulls! They're hitting us! Dozens of 'em!"
The Skulls.
One of the most violent and ambitious gangs in the Rust Market, known for their brutality and their desire to control the drug trade.
Viper cursed, grabbing his blade. "Damn them! They picked tonight of all nights!"
He looked at Lâm Minh, suspicion warring with panic. "Is this your doing, fish?"
"I have no love for the Skulls," Lâm Minh said calmly, pocketing the vial of Crimson Dream.
This was his chance. Chaos was a ladder. "Looks like our deal is on hold."
He didn't wait for a reply.
As Viper and his guards scrambled to react to the raid, Lâm Minh moved towards a grimy, boarded-up window at the back of the room.
With a Qi-infused kick, he shattered the rotten planks and slipped out into the narrow, refuse-choked alleyway behind the Broken Mug just as the sounds of heavy fighting intensified inside.
He didn't run blindly.
He used his Qi Sense to navigate the labyrinthine alleys, avoiding both the brawling gangs and any ASEAN patrols that might be drawn by the commotion.
He needed to get clear, report to Yan, and analyze this new development.
The Skulls attacking Viper… was it a simple gang war, or was someone trying to consolidate control over Crimson Dream?
He'd gotten a sample of the pure drug.
He'd identified a key distributor.
And he'd survived.
For a first deep dive into the Crimson Dream network, it wasn't a bad haul.
But the image of that pulsating crimson liquid, and the desperate, violent energy it represented, lingered in his mind.
This drug was a cancer, and its roots ran deep. Uncovering its true origin would be far more dangerous than he'd initially anticipated.