Ruan Xian reviewed the netrunners he had tracked down.
Going by the game’s lore, Nix was Rogue’s guy at the Afterlife, Chang-hoon Nam belonged to Wakako Okada, and Yoko sold quickhacks in Kabuki with pretty average skills.
Operating on Tyger Claws territory meant they all knew the street inside and out.
To put it simply, all three were seasoned old veterans who wouldn’t be easily fooled.
Forking out a fortune risked getting scammed.
Yoko might actually sell him something legit, but she was genuinely weak—learning from a amateur would only make him worse.
Sandra Dorsett, on the other hand, was rich.
She could afford a Trauma Team Platinum membership and worked for some mysterious corporate entity.
She was very likely a rich kid and a freelance netrunner.
As shown in her side quest, her netrunning skills were formidable, and she paid zero mind to corporate threats.
Most importantly, Sandra lived near Kabuki all by herself and was naive enough to get scooped up by Scavengers.
She was probably just like Almighty V—picking up a random dirty braindance off the street, popping it in, getting infected with a virus chip, and ending up on ice while Scavengers prepared to chop out her high-end cyberware for resale.
She seemed to possess high moral standards and looked easy to trick.
As long as he spun a compelling backstory, he could probably succeed in taking her as his master—maybe even walk away with some netrunning gear without spending a dime.
“I have a hundred and forty thousand eddies, plus the rig I scavenged for free from those Scavs.
That should be enough to cover the basics, right?” Ruan Xian tallied his wealth.
In the game, that kind of money was already enough to build an endgame Almighty V.
In a realistic cyberpunk world, however, top-tier cyberware couldn’t be bought with cash alone.
Expecting to buy a Militech “Apogee” Sandevistan from a street doc who dealt in sex-worker implants?
Even if he dared to sell it, would you dare to install it?
Not even phone scammers were that reckless.
Most of those high-end items were corporate-exclusive cyberware.
Getting your hands on them meant either paying astronomical markups or buying black-market stash—stuff snagged directly from Maelstrom or the Scavengers.
Those implants were either freshly hijacked from corps or ripped straight out of living bodies.
They were useless without a full system wipe; anyone reckless enough to install them raw was asking for cyberpsychosis sooner or later.
“I need to spin a solid story.
Luckily, her apartment falls within the totem’s range.
It’s 2076, so she should have already started investigating Night Corp.
I just don’t know how far she’s gotten.
Her little netrunner group should still be active right now.
I’ll check the Deep Net to see if she’s set up her own BBS.
If she has, I’ll cook up a tragic, vengeful backstory and ask her to sponsor me.” Ruan Xian prepared to pose as a legendary netrunner using his Lotus Leaf Data Fortress, then introduce his real-world persona—Ruan Xian himself—to her.
Netrunners had a distinct trait: they trusted the words of netrunners who were at or above their own skill level.
The darker and more conspiratorial the story, the better.
Uncovering a conspiracy and being hunted for it was practically a netrunner’s rite of passage.
“Sandra Dorsett, Sandra_D…
how is this ID even hidden?” Using his digital avatar to dox Sandra, Ruan Xian found her digital trail almost painful to look at.
Sandra had given herself a layer of anonymity, but all she did was shorten her surname to ‘D’.
This wasn’t the world of *One Piece*; adding a ‘D’ to your name didn’t magically grant you mysterious powers.
“Alright.
Just searching without breaching doesn’t require any skill at all.
I am practically the god of doxxing!” Ruan Xian didn’t need to wander aimlessly.
One glance gave him her real name, and following her cyberspace data footprint led him straight to her associated data nodes.
“‘Shared Freedom’…
huh, nice name.
Admin: Sandra_D.
Looks like this is the place.
Let’s see what you’ve been posting.” Driven by a wicked sense of curiosity, Ruan Xian scrolled through Sandra’s posts.
Unsurprisingly, they were packed with her investigation logs.
Corporate conspiracies, murders, conflicts, information blackouts, thoughtcrimes…
Her experiences were remarkably extensive, and she was truly reckless with her life.
Deep Net BBS boards were highly secret.
If you knew the cyberspace address, getting in was easy.
But there was no Google or Bing to search for addresses you didn’t know.
Randomly visiting unknown addresses in cyberspace made it extremely easy for high-level ICE or other lethal programs to fry your brain.
Wandering around cyberspace blindly was no different from picking up a random braindance in an alley and watching it on the spot.
If you didn’t die, you were lucky; if you died, that was normal.
On Sandra’s Shared Freedom BBS, both registration and browsing required administrative permission from the board owner.
But the Lotus Leaf Fortress didn’t care about any of that.
Ever since the totem had been planted, the highest administrative authority in this area belonged to Ruan Xian.
He casually registered an account, set the ID to *Screwllum*, assigned an insanely cool robotic head avatar, and messaged Sandra directly through the BBS’s internal line.
[Screwllum: Sandra Dorsett?]
No reply came, but Ruan Xian clearly saw the data on Sandra’s digital avatar churning frantically.
It flashed like a firecracker thrown into an outhouse by a troublemaking kid, blowing up a sky full of sparks and bringing out a mob of angry men shouting profanities in hot pursuit.
Though he didn’t know what Sandra was doing, it was obvious that conventional netrunning methods couldn’t trace a Cyber Shaman like Ruan Xian.
[Screwllum: I mean no harm, child.]
The data flow around Sandra accelerated even further.
[Screwllum: Very well, it seems I must restrain you.]
Ruan Xian didn’t have many non-lethal tools at his disposal.
Fearing he might kill her if he hit her too hard, he pulled off a trick: he used his digital avatar’s hand to pinch the data link above Sandra’s head, instantly choking off her data exchange.
It was like being stuck on a highway gridlock during a holiday rush—traffic blocked in both directions, no room to U-turn, leaving everyone with no choice but to pull over and sleep on the asphalt.
Stuck in complete limbo.
Once Sandra’s digital avatar finally calmed down—so still that she almost looked dead—Ruan Xian released his grip, allowing her to reconnect to cyberspace.
[Screwllum: Have you calmed down, child?]
[Sandra: Who the hell are you?!
I won’t tell you anything!
The people have a right to know the truth!
Long live freedom!]
It was obvious Sandra thought she was completely finished.
But that wasn’t surprising: you were sitting at home, surfing the net, eating hot pot and singing songs, when suddenly a bandit popped out, doxxed your whole identity, and choked your network cable no matter how hard you fought back.
There was literally nothing left to do.
[Screwllum: Hypothetically, if thought precedes speech, then no word can define this joy.
It is a pleasure to meet you, Sandra.]
Sandra was utterly bewildered.
This person had hijacked her BBS permissions, exposed her real name, and cut off her internet connection.
Yet all her resistance had been like waves crashing against a mountain—accomplishing nothing beyond splashing a bit of water on him.
If an expert of this caliber wanted to kill her, holding that block on her connection just a little longer would have caused brain death.
At that point, even a Trauma Team Platinum membership wouldn’t save her.
Her death would simply be recorded as an accident—a netrunner diving too deep into the Net and mysteriously kicking the bucket was a dime a dozen in this world. This chapter was copied from novelping.com without permission.
So, this mysterious netrunner might actually mean no harm.
Besides, he spoke so elegantly…
he had to be a good person, right?
Assuming their conversation went smoothly.
[Sandra: Uh…
hello, Mr.
Screwllum.
I’m just a nobody netrunner who set up a small forum for fun.
Is there anything I can help you with?]
Sandra’s heart hammered in her chest.
Recalling her recent investigations, she panicked, thinking Night Corp had discovered her big project and sent someone to silence her.
She was even more terrified that a single wrong answer would cost her life.
[Screwllum: Do not panic, child.
The emotions of life are like the tides; it was my failure to watch the direction of the moon.
I apologize for the trouble I have caused you.
Unfortunately, I do not have much time for pleasantries, so I must ask a favor of you.]
Sandra felt this person possessed immense refinement.
Elegant, extraordinarily elegant—exactly the kind of sophistication she admired.
Compared to the usual Night City street slang she dealt with, this was pure art!
[Sandra: Please, go ahead.
If it’s within my power, I will do everything I can.]
[Screwllum: I have observed your recent actions.
You are investigating Night Corp, correct?
There is a child who may need your assistance, and he, too, can assist you.
I oppose Night Corp’s actions, but unfortunately, I cannot and will not casually interfere in the internal affairs of Night City’s residents.
Therefore, you must rely on yourselves.]
[Sandra: I knew Night Corp was up to no good!
I’ll help the kid you mentioned.
Have you found anything?
Is there anything else you need me to do?]
[Screwllum: Do what your heart demands.
The specific details will be conveyed to you by that child.
The longer I stay, the more danger you both face.
I have granted that child some aid; you may join him, provided you are willing.
I have given him your address and contact number; he will reach out to you shortly.
As for compensation, he will provide it.]
[Sandra: Understood.
I got it.]
[Sandra: Boss?
Boss, are you still there?]
Sandra let out a deep, long breath.
*Ea-sy.* Didn’t die on the Net today.
Successfully survived another day.
Truly something to celebrate.