"That’s all I know. If you have any other questions, Inspector…"

"None."

Cheng Ye didn’t press the guards at the entrance, who were clearly at the bottom of the checkpoint’s food chain.

It wasn’t a sudden bout of kindness. Through their brief exchange, he’d already pieced together where his potential troubles might come from.

But were they big problems?

To stand firm at the checkpoint, it wasn’t about who your father was but about tactics, courage, and sheer grit.

In a way, this place was still an extension of the wasteland, just with a few more protective rules.

His fingers brushed the Bison combat pistol at his waist, the cold metal sending a chill up his arm.

Looking up, he glanced at the dark firing ports on the wall.

Noticing the machine gun operator deliberately avoiding his gaze, Cheng Ye let out a soft chuckle. "Alright, they should be ready by now. Open the gate for me."

"Ah, yes, right away!"

The tall guard, as if granted amnesty, scurried to the gate in a few strides, swiping his card to verify his identity.

Thud.

The heavy blast door slowly swung outward, revealing the interior as the gap widened enough for three people to pass side by side.

It wasn’t as high-tech as the inner city, but the overall style matched the buffer zone’s Old Era aesthetic.

A straight main road of gray-black epoxy resin stretched toward Zone E’s end, where a few cargo trucks awaiting clearance were being inspected.

On either side of the road, neatly aligned workstations stood in orderly rows. Dark green plastic-steel windows were half-open, and acrylic electronic signs at the entrances displayed scrolling red LED text: “Data Room,” “Archives,” “Registration Office,” “Inspection Room,” “Disinfection Station,” and so on.

Despite the night-long downpour flooding the buffer zone, there was little standing water here.

A few workers in blue overalls swept water with scrapers, channeling it into drainage ditches on either side, leaving only winding streaks behind.

"Just head to the registration office. A staff member will handle your North Station inspector registration."

"Thanks."

Not being hassled by Cheng Ye and even getting a thank you, the tall guard found it peculiar.

When he’d called himself a tool earlier, it wasn’t self-deprecation but a statement of fact.

After all, the wasteland didn’t support idlers. Being used as a tool by an inspector was an honor.

Yet now, an odd feeling stirred in his chest.

"It must be my imagination. Why would an inspector treat us like people?"

The gate closed.

Watching Cheng Ye’s figure blur in the rain, the tall guard shook off the absurd thought along with the rainwater.

It had to be his imagination!

Entering Zone E, Cheng Ye didn’t rush to the registration office but stood observing for a moment.

Everyone, from the bustling staff to the workers sweeping water, had Westerner features.

His Easterner face was indeed conspicuous at the North Station.

Strangely, though, no one seemed to notice him. Not a single curious glance came his way.

When he looked at them, they flinched as if he were a ferocious beast.

"They’re that scared of me?"

This surprised Cheng Ye, but it also confirmed he’d made the right move.

Rather than starting at the South Station, fumbling through unfamiliar rules and getting pushed into a ditch, he’d rather charge into the North Station, ready for a fight from the get-go.

Like now—everyone knew this Easterner inspector was here to “stir trouble.” Ordinary folks, unable to meddle in faction disputes, scrambled to stay clear, fearing entanglement.

This made his enemies instantly obvious.

Twenty or thirty pairs of eyes watched from the workstations along the road. Even when Cheng Ye met their gazes, they didn’t flinch, their looks filled with amusement and disdain.

In the few minutes since the guard passed the message, they’d already pulled up Cheng Ye’s info and figured out why he’d been sent to the rapid inspection post.

Offending a Western faction inspector and still daring to barge into the North Station? Did he think Westerners were soft targets?

Sure, the regular staff lived in fear of offending inspectors.

But these people didn’t.

After all, they were set to inherit their parents’ inspector roles. Why would they care about a kid whose dad died early and took the job young?

In the eerie atmosphere, Cheng Ye headed to the registration office.

The staff along the road scattered, ducking into workstation alleys.

Meanwhile, the young people in the workstations silently opened their doors, gathering in twos and threes, subtly encircling Cheng Ye and the registration office.

"Hello, I’m a trainee inspector, here to report for my first day at the rapid checkpoint."

At the window, Cheng Ye presented his badge.

The registration office was about twenty square meters. A young man in his twenties sat at the window.

With classic Westerner features—gray-blue pupils, bloodshot whites, and greasy hair plastered to his forehead—it was clear he’d been up all night.

"Do you know the rules of the rapid checkpoint?"

The young man sized up Cheng Ye, muttering without reaching for the badge.

"Nope."

Cheng Ye shook his head honestly. "I was a trainee at the Central Main Checkpoint before. This is my first time at a rapid checkpoint, so I’m not clear on any special rules."

"Good that you don’t know."

The young man stood, chuckling lightly. "Inspector Cheng, here’s the deal: every trainee inspector reporting to the rapid checkpoint has to prove their ability to handle the job on their first day."

"How do I prove that?"

"Simple." The young man grabbed a few sheets of paper and stepped out, standing beside Cheng Ye and pointing into the distance. "See those cargo trucks waiting to leave at the end of the channel? Yes, the third one. All its cargo declarations are here. But we’ve found several items don’t match the list."

"Find three discrepancies, and you pass the registration test."

Following the young man’s gesture, Cheng Ye squinted.

Six trucks were being inspected. Five belonged to Westerners, but the third was an Easterner’s.

"That easy?"

The young man blinked, then flashed a mocking smile. "Just that easy."

They wouldn’t dare hassle Cheng Ye outside the rules, but within them, pitting Easterners against each other was too entertaining.

"Pick, he’s coming. Tell the truck to close its doors."

"Got it."

As Cheng Ye approached, the inspector named Pick quickly stashed the paperwork.

"All good, sir. Your cargo’s clear."

"Really?"

The Easterner driver, visibly anxious, let out a long breath.

He usually went through the South Station, but last night’s storm had blocked the roads there, forcing him to detour to the North Station for clearance.

These guys had big appetites. He’d shelled out nearly 200 Happiness Coins to get their nod.

"Wait…"

Just as the driver was about to board, Pick raised a hand. "Sorry, a trainee inspector thinks there’s an issue with your cargo. Please step out for a secondary check."

"What?"

Following Pick’s gesture, the driver’s face fell.

Damn it.

An Easterner inspector at the North Station? What was going on?

"Sir?"

Facing Cheng Ye, the driver was clearly at a loss.

Normally, cargo checks were minor tasks. You could run a hundred trips and not have an inspector personally intervene.

At the South Station, he’d know some faces from regular payoffs, but at the North Station…

If they found contraband, he was done for!

Smuggled industrial goods from Happiness City could fetch double or triple the price of regular cargo.

The profit margin was split, with the checkpoint taking the lion’s share during entry due to the declaration forms, leaving drivers a small cut. Everyone understood and let it slide.

But getting flagged before leaving? If contraband was exposed, the consequences were unthinkable!

"I got a tip from the registration office that several items in your cargo don’t match the declaration, so I’m here to verify."

"Huh?" The driver’s face darkened, and he shot a glance at Pick.

To his dismay, Pick lowered his head, clearly dodging his accusing stare.

Fine, fine, fine. Took my money and ratted me out, trying to get me killed?

A flicker of madness crossed the driver’s eyes, and his gaze toward Cheng Ye grew hostile.

But then…

"Don’t panic. You’re Old Zhang from East District’s Autumn Grocery, right?"

Cheng Ye tossed out a random name with a smile, deliberately slowing his speech. "I bought a defense comm charger from you before. What, don’t remember me?"

"Ch-charger?"

The driver froze. His surname was Bai, not Zhang, and he’d never heard of an Autumn Grocery in the East District.

But hearing Cheng Ye’s words, he paused, realizing there might be a way out.

If he could survive this, his burning anger vanished instantly. His eyes lit up, and he hurriedly played along. "Sir, how could Old Zhang forget you? I just didn’t expect to see you on duty at the North Station!"

"You’re heading out in this storm? The roads here are slippery in the rainy season. Not easy to leave. Why not go through the South Station?"

Cheng Ye circled the so-called truck, kicking the burrs on its tire edges.

With no oil production around Happiness City, all trucks were new-energy battery vehicles, boxy like Old Era Jinbei vans.

"Well, sir, I planned to go through the South Station last night, it’s closer. But the storm flooded the city roads, so I had to detour to the North Station."

As a seasoned smuggler, “Old Zhang” answered instinctively while his mind raced, picking up on the words Cheng Ye had emphasized.

North Station, slippery roads…

Catching the keywords, Old Zhang swallowed hard, realizing what Cheng Ye was hinting at.

And “not easy to leave” wasn’t a death sentence, it meant there was still a chance.

As for “why not go through the South Station”…

Knowing the East-West faction rivalry, Old Zhang’s pupils narrowed, and it clicked.

"Sir, you know Old Zhang. You must know I’d never do anything illegal."

"If there’s really a mismatch, it’s not my cargo. It’s from some guys last night who asked me to take their stuff out."

"Oh? Who?"

A glint flashed in Cheng Ye’s eyes, and his satisfied smile deepened Old Zhang’s confidence in his guess.

Biting the bullet, he turned to Pick. "It’s Camilo Luke from West District’s Wisteria Factory, a worker. He asked me to take some stuff to an outside settlement, said it was prearranged."

"Wisteria Factory…"

A Westerner factory specializing in small industrial goods. Pick’s face shifted, about to speak.

But Cheng Ye’s expression hardened, cutting him off. "Let me see it. I heard there were three discrepancies, right? Maybe it’s these items."

"Right away, sir."

Opening the Jinbei’s rear door, Old Zhang swiftly pulled out three black oilpaper packages.

"Open them!"

Peeling back the edges, the packages revealed colorful PCB boards, full of electronic components.

"Some nerve! These are industrial goods the buffer zone explicitly bans for private export!"

Cheng Ye feigned anger. "This Camilo Luke doesn’t want to live, does he? Smuggling this stuff out?"

"Alright, you can go. I’m digging to the bottom of this today to see who’s bold enough to flout the buffer zone’s rules!"

"Yes, yes, sir."

Seeing Cheng Ye wave him off, Old Zhang’s eyes lit up, thinking he’d dodged a bullet.

Though he seemed caught in the East-West faction feud, he resolved that even if the sky fell, he’d stick to the South Station next time. He’d rather break a contract than come back.

This damn North Station and its motherless Westerners could go to hell.

The Jinbei roared to life, leaving the three oilpaper packages behind as its tires skidded through the water.

Visibly, not just Pick but every Westerner watching looked like they’d swallowed a dead fly.

That’s it?

Picking up the packages, Cheng Ye’s lips twitched. Child’s play, so naive.

"Three items, enough to prove myself, right?"

"You’re good." Taking the badge Cheng Ye handed over, the young man’s face soured as he went inside, rapidly typing to process the onboarding.

The young people outside the registration office exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of shock and, like the young man, frustrated powerlessness.

The anticipated dogfight didn’t happen. Cheng Ye had casually leveraged his authority, the Easterner driver played along to shift the blame, and the accusation landed squarely on a Westerner.

"Jamie, you’re not seriously letting him onboard that easily, are you?"

A voice crackled through the earpiece, darkening the face of Jamie, who was about to return the badge.

"Your uncle’s still in intensive care because of Liu Bi."

"Shut up!"

Jamie cursed under his breath, but his fingers inexplicably loosened, and the badge clattered to the ground.

Water flowed along the road.

By the time he chased after it, the badge had spun into the drainage ditch, caught in a pile of garbage.

"Nice one! Humiliate him by making him dig through trash!"

Laughter erupted through the earpiece. The surrounding young people, clueless, thought Jamie was humiliating Cheng Ye and began clapping lightly.

Initially flustered, Jamie felt emboldened by their encouraging looks. "Inspector Cheng, you didn’t catch it. Want me to help?"

"Oh, really?"

Cheng Ye scratched his head, smiling innocently. "No need, I’ll pick it up myself."

He bent down toward the ditch, retrieving the badge from the garbage amid snickers and wiping it on his pant leg.

"Hahaha, coward."

"That’s his courage, daring to come to our West Station?"

"An inspector rummaging through trash—eye-opening!"

"..."

The mocking voices rose and fell. Though it caused Cheng Ye no real trouble, the mental jab was their delight.

Even Jamie smirked with disdain, as if he’d led a victory against an Easterner.

"All done reporting."

Cheng Ye returned, wiping the badge clean with his shirt. "I’m officially a North Station inspector now, right?"

Unsure why Cheng Ye asked, Jamie blinked, then grunted through his nose.

But the next second, he froze.

The smiling Cheng Ye flicked his wrist, sending the badge spinning in an arc, landing right back in the ditch.

"Go pick it up."