The scene fell silent at this moment.

Whether it was the scornful sarcasm from the Angkasaru Star People or the sharp objections from the unknown species.

At this moment, it was as if their throats were stuffed, completely muted.

This human in front of us, with his hands bound by an Energy Suppressor, punched and shattered the sand prison of Tukalu?!

Is this still a human?

Could he be a parasite that has seized a human body!

This guy got captured as a prisoner? Who on earth is capable of capturing someone like him!

"Achoo!" Hundreds of kilometers away, Punk sneezed hard.

He took off his motorcycle helmet and rubbed his nose.

"Someone cursing me?"

Punk mumbled to himself, subconsciously picturing the face of that human, then shrugged dismissively.

"Curse away, curse away."

"Delivering you to the beds of wealthy women is better than dying at the hands of nugget hunters."

"You’ll thank me."

He whistled, pushed open the door, and walked in.

Inside and outside the door were two different worlds.

The noise instantly filled his ears; the buzzing crowd was doing all sorts of things.

Punk made his way through the packed crowd to the bar.

He pulled out a Gold Coin and flicked it.

A young man, wearing headphones nearby, expertly caught it.

"Thanks for the Space Fluctuation Detector," Punk said.

The young man with headphones put the Gold Coin in his mouth and bit it, then gave him an "ok" gesture.

In the young man’s hand, a device about the size of a handheld console was scanning like a radar.

According to unwritten rules at this bar, anyone who caught prey would give a Sand Coin to the young man as a reward.

It was well-deserved.

"Punk, I’ve heard. This time you snatched a tender-skinned human from the Interstellar Hyenas!"

The flamboyantly dressed bar owner approached, holding two glasses of orange-yellow liquid that resembled cheap barley beer.

Punk accepted one of the glasses and downed it in one gulp.

He ignored the intentionally lowered neckline and the "accidentally" slipping shoulder strap of the bar owner.

He tucked a gold Sand Coin into the owner’s cleavage.

"Here’s next month’s bar tab."

"Oh, you’re such a buzzkill. Throw in another Sand Coin, and I’m yours for the night," the owner giggled and said.

Punk shrugged helplessly, "I’m not a fool. This isn’t something a single Sand Coin can settle."

"A philosopher once said, when a woman only asks for one Gold Coin, without greed, she might want more."

With that, he accepted another glass of cheap beer under the owner’s resentful gaze and walked to a corner of the bar.

"You should have asked for more, I mean for that cargo," at this point, a drunken man sat opposite him.

"Human species are the favorite of those wealthy ladies in the main city; he’s worth at least five hundred Sand Coins!"

"With that money, you wouldn’t have to keep risking your neck in the Uda Desert, scraping for food from those nutcase Interstellar Hyenas."

"You could buy a house in the main city for one hundred Sand Coins, then spend fifty Sand Coins on a female, no matter her species..."

The drunken man kept babbling, but Punk ignored him, quietly sipping his cheap barley beer while looking at the rowdy crowd.

"I think he’s absolutely right."

Just then, a voice came from the seat opposite.

Upon hearing this voice, Punk’s first instinct was to turn and run.

His reaction was swift, but a pair of hands clamped his shoulders even quicker.

"If I were you, I wouldn’t make such a reckless move."

"Wouldn’t you agree, ’Ten-Sand Coin Punk?’"

From the shadow opposite, a handsome young man’s facial outline emerged under the dim light.

To be precise, it was the same human he had just personally handed over to Tukalu not long ago!

The silly question of how he escaped from Tukalu didn’t even cross Punk’s mind.

"Care for a drink?" Punk settled back into his seat, smiling as he pushed his half-empty cup of cheap barley beer over to Han Zhan.

Han Zhan shook his head.

He stacked a pile of gold Sand Coins on the table, no more no less, exactly ten coins.

"Tukalu told me you have your rules. No matter who wants you to do a job, no matter how difficult or simple, you only charge ten Sand Coins."

This is how "Ten-Sand Coin Punk" got his nickname.

"What if I say I’ve raised my price, would that work?" Punk flashed a wry smile, "Also, the nickname ’Ten-Sand Coin’ always feels like an insult."

Han Zhan didn’t speak, only nudged the ten Sand Coins over to him.

"Now, let’s start a simple Q&A session."

"I’ll ask you a question, and then you can ask me one, taking turns to ask and answer."

Punk looked at the ten Sand Coins pushed in front of him, then glanced at Han Zhan sitting opposite.

The request from Han Zhan was so fair that it made him feel uneasy.

However, he could only sit in his seat, immobile.

This made Punk realize he had no right to refuse.

"So, the first question. Why do you only charge ten Sand Coins?"

Upon finishing his question, Han Zhan looked up at Punk.

The subtle changes in expressions on Punk’s face did not escape his watchful eyes.

Punk paused, then after a moment of hesitation, he answered truthfully:

"Because my life is only worth ten Sand Coins."

"Ten Sand Coins can buy me to do anything, even to buy my life."

"Five hundred Sand Coins are certainly tempting, but on Yongsha Star, in the Uda Desert, survival should be the first concern."

"It only takes ten Sand Coins to help me live longer."

Punk’s response earned a sidelong glance from Han Zhan.

Everyone has the ability to earn a living, but having the self-restraint to remain sober and not be blinded by desire is another kind of ability altogether.

In this regard, Punk had indeed succeeded and done well.

Han Zhan was willing to believe that if Punk had exchanged him for the five hundred Sand Coins, he wouldn’t be sitting here leisurely drinking now.

As the drunkard said earlier, five hundred Sand Coins is not a small amount.

Who wouldn’t be tempted?

After hearing Punk’s answer, Han Zhan was even more convinced that his judgment was right.

This guy might indeed have some information he wanted.

"Then it’s my turn to ask."

Once he regained his composure, Punk asked his question directly:

"How did you get away from Tukalu? Do you two know each other?"

This was what Punk most wanted to know.

He quickly got his wish and heard Han Zhan’s answer.

"Killed him; naturally, I could leave."

Han Zhan’s words shattered the last bit of luck Punk was holding in his heart.

He widened his eyes in disbelief as if looking at a Prehistoric Giant Beast.

"Are you crazy?!"