"Fucking expensive."
After leaving the Lingxu Merchant Guild, Qin He carried the weapon he had just bought and couldn't help but feel the ache in his heart.
Sin City was a millstone of flesh and blood. Every minute and every second spent here would be squeezed dry without mercy.
What did four hundred spirit stones mean? A single Night Patrol only earned twenty spirit stones. It would take more than twenty trips to scrape together enough.
But the problem was that every Night Patrol suffered losses of at least ten percent. Losses of twenty or thirty percent were nothing new, and during special periods, more than half could be lost—or even the entire force wiped out.
Even taking the lightest estimate, a single Night Patrol meant a ten-percent loss.
Over twenty trips, going by probability, that was enough to die twice over. And that was only if he neither ate, drank, nor paid for lodging.
And this was still the shoddiest, most unwanted weapon available. Qin He had only managed to buy it through a lucky accident.
Passing a food stall, Qin He bought a roast chicken for five spirit stones, a jar of wine for four, and some other miscellaneous food. In total, he spent twenty spirit stones.
He had practically spent the night patrol reward clean.
When he returned to his residence, it was a small, rather remote house tucked into an inconspicuous corner between two stretches of woodland. The house was barely more than two men tall and exceptionally crude.
This was also the most common type of housing in Sin City, rented for ten spirit stones a month.
From food to drink, from drink to lodging, from lodging to daily necessities... everything here was outrageously expensive.
Compared to prices, human life was undoubtedly the cheapest thing