"You idiot, this is a weapon implant chip, not electronic junk!"
"Moron, the rifling in this pile of gun barrels wasn't ground properly. Are you trying to get people to smash up our shop?"
"Throw away the virtual sensor you hid! What? You don't have it? Do you think I'm deaf? Don't you know this thing's sound plays externally?"
At the eastern corner of the flea market, familiar curses rang out from Old Friend Firearms first thing in the morning. For most scavengers, the first daybreak began with Aunt Xiang's scolding.
"Fatty Xiang, your mother curses you every day. Why aren't you angry at all?" the stall owner beside him teased.
Fatty Xiang answered honestly, "If Mom is scolding me, I must have done something wrong. It has nothing to do with her."
"Fat pig, I told you to move the stuff! Why haven't you come back yet?!"
Fatty Xiang and the stall owner exchanged a glance. For some reason, Aunt Xiang seemed especially furious today.
When Fatty Xiang carried a pile of metal tools back into the shop, he saw Aunt Xiang sitting in a chair with her arms crossed, her expression shifting unpredictably as if she were lost in thought.
Fatty Xiang scratched his head, carefully maneuvering his bulky body around the cramped shop.
"Mom, I'm going to grind the rifling."
"Wait. Watch the shop for a while; I'm going out." Aunt Xiang stood up to leave, then reminded him, "Remember what I told you. You can accept things, but don't pay until I get back. If anyone comes to buy a gun, don't sell to them unless they're someone we know!"
"Mom, I heard you clearly."
Looking at Fatty Xiang's still-dull expression, Aunt Xiang couldn't help grabbing his big head.
"Idiot!"
After Aunt Xiang left, Fatty Xiang remained lost in thought, no one knew what was on his mind. Perhaps he was wondering why those women hadn't been wearing clothes last night.
Aunt Xiang hurried through the flea market and arrived at the scavenger settlement on the outskirts of Car City.
An indescribable stench permeated the air.
Everyone here was disheveled and scantily clad. Most either had pustules covering their faces or deformed hands and feet.
The scavengers were descendants of refugees who made a living by scavenging junk on the outskirts of the city.
Aunt Xiang skillfully stepped over a pile of fresh feces and walked to a relatively clean wooden shack in the slums, then pounded hard on the plank door.
"Old bastard, open up!"
"Who is it?" An old man with graying hair and a wine bottle in hand rubbed his eyes and opened the door. He was quite surprised to see Aunt Xiang.
"What brings you here?"
"Why can't I come? Drinking in the morning and drinking at night—you're not afraid you'll drink yourself to death!"
"That would be a fine way to die." The old man grinned and limped to the table. He shoved the clutter directly onto the floor, then unfolded a folding chair that had gone unused for a long time and patted it.
"Sit, sit, sit. Make yourself at home. My place is truly honored by your visit. It's been several years since we last met, hasn't it?"
Aunt Xiang glanced around: unfinished cheap alcohol, household trash, and a filthy bedside. The only clean thing was a photograph on the wall. It showed a group of young people, all smiling brightly, each holding an enormous cold weapon stained with blood.
Seeing this, Aunt Xiang's expression softened somewhat, though she remained blunt. "Old Sun, get yourself a prosthetic limb and tidy yourself up. With your skills, you shouldn't be living this miserably."
Old Sun gave a self-mocking laugh. "With my skills? What skills do I have left now? Didn't you change careers and start selling guns?"
Aunt Xiang was silent for a moment before handing him a blueprint. "I recently took on a big job. The schedule is tight, and I need your help. Once it's done, I'll give you two thousand mechanical coins as payment."
"A big job? Two thousand mechanical coins?!" Old Sun froze first, then his eyes lit up. A moment later, they dimmed again, and he said with a bitter smile, "Who still needs this kind of old-fashioned beast-hunting weapon? Those youngsters can't wait to come over from eight hundred li away and carpet-bomb everything. Besides, large beast-hunting weapons like this are meant to deal with at least Class C radiation beasts. Wouldn't rockets work better?"
"Just treat it as some idiot kid's pipe dream. In any case, the money's there. Are you doing it or not? Give me an answer!"
"I'm doing it. Why wouldn't I? Two thousand mechanical coins—I could build a house out of booze!"
"You're hopeless!" The curse reached Aunt Xiang's lips, but when she saw the photograph, it ultimately became a quiet sigh.
At the Great Four Seasons Clouds residential compound, on the apartment building known as the "Big Tree," Doghead swaggered down the stairwell as if no one else existed, outrageously arrogant.
It reached the third-floor corridor. In the thick dust, a few faint footprints could still be seen.
Doghead immediately cowered. It pressed cautiously against the wall, turning its head from side to side, afraid of being ambushed.
Several apartment doors stood wide open along the corridor, but the rooms were all empty.
Doghead instantly grew arrogant again. It barked "awoo, awoo" wildly, occasionally adding an "asshole"—probably a legacy left behind by the artificial soldiers.
It reached the elevator. The doors were tightly shut. Doghead lightly leaped onto the fire cabinet, then jumped again and pressed the elevator button with its paw.
The elevator did not respond.
That was normal. Not every floor had radiation creatures on it.
Doghead shook its head. Facing the elevator, it propped itself upright on its hind legs and spread both front paws outward. The expressionless human head made its arrogance obvious.
As if provoked, a rumbling suddenly came from inside the elevator. The next moment, a ding sounded, the open-door light above the elevator lit up, and more than a dozen radiation zombies pounced at Doghead.
Name: Armed Radiation Corpse
Radiation Level: F+
Health: 105/120
Stamina: 95/100
Bioenergy: 55
Biological Attributes: Strength 9 Agility 6 Endurance 13 Intelligence 6 Perception 5
Skills: Metal Strike Lv. 5, Gang-Up Lv. 4, Bite Lv. 3
Note: This is a group of zombies skilled at using tools
Doghead's expression changed drastically. It turned and ran, its tail held high. The tail was longer than its entire body. It had originally belonged to a giant radiation hound and was an excellent biochemical conduction material. Highworker had modified it, hollowing out the inside, adding a battery and an enhanced sensor. This not only raised Doghead's top speed to 30 km/h but also added an early-warning mode.
Judging by the current situation, that early-warning mode wasn't very effective.
Armed radiation corpses were upgraded versions of radiation zombies. The greatest difference between them was that they had begun using weapons. The radiation corpses held household chainsaws, household pistols, or household katana. It was clear that the residents of this building had been quite the criminals.
Doghead's greatest advantage was its small size. It scrambled down the stairwell in just a few leaps. By the time the zombies charged down after it, a dense white fog had appeared before them.
The zombies immediately lost their sense of direction when the fog washed over them.
Ordinary smoke grenades produced thick smoke by burning white phosphorus. The smoke enveloping these zombies, however, was more like boiling steam: viscous, dense, and searing hot.
Under the effects of this "steam," the slight radiation on the zombies' bodies was suppressed to a great extent. The result was that their senses rapidly declined.
Then a figure charged into their midst. Every flash of the blade sent another head tumbling down.
[You have killed a Chainsaw-Wielding Armed Zombie. Experience +20]
[You have killed a Pistol-Wielding Armed Zombie. Experience +35]
[You have killed a Stun-Gun-Wielding Armed Zombie. Experience +30]
A string of plus signs flashed across the system. Only when the final zombie was cut apart at the waist by the Red Unicorn did the notifications finally disappear.
"Another wave cleared."
Although they were only radiation corpses, small gains accumulated into great ones. Nearly four hundred experience points left Highworker fairly satisfied.
After all, there were four artificial soldiers!
Highworker's equipment had also been upgraded. He wore a black leather outfit tanned from giant radiation hound hide. Though the leather lost some of its properties during processing, small-caliber bullets couldn't penetrate it.
The "smoke grenade" he had thrown just now was a specialty resembling a grenade fruit called water tobacco leaf. Made through a special process, it could absorb large amounts of water vapor when lit while incorporating certain special chemicals. These chemicals could effectively intercept radiation and sever radiation beasts' senses.
The tactical boots beneath his feet came from a radiation beast called a Flame Bull. Because its belly hide had been in contact with radiation sources for years, it was not only fireproof and heat-resistant but also came with an Endurance +1 attribute.
As for the electromagnetic-shielding goggles on his head, they could identify a radiation beast's true body in the concrete jungle where electromagnetic fields were disrupted.
There were also various odds and ends. Although they were all white-grade equipment on the system panel, their effects here were comparable to "fine" grade.
These were tools that classic-style mechanical hunters had tested with their lives.
He had also commissioned a big one, which was currently being manufactured.
During this period, his harvest of mechanical coins and experience had been quite substantial.
On average, Highworker could earn 3,000 mechanical coins and 2,000 experience points every day.
After grinding continuously for a week, that amounted to 21,000 mechanical coins and 14,000 experience points.
That was an astonishing figure. Based on Highworker's experience from his previous life, players would earn at most one-tenth as much.
It wasn't that Highworker's combat strength was overwhelming. Rather, by the time players could participate in the storyline, the Iron Sand Desert would be swarming with massive hordes of radiation beasts. Each army would be led by at least one Class A Beast God General, and every city would have become a heavily guarded beast nest.
Most of the time, losing one life would cost players more than they gained from killing monsters.
Highworker was still dissatisfied with the status quo. Grinding small fry was satisfying, but he was preparing to make a big move.
"Come out!"
Highworker suddenly shouted.
No one answered. Faint movement came from the lower level of the stairwell.
Highworker suddenly leaped out of the building. While sailing through the air, he snapped his wrist, shooting out a steel claw that caught directly on the wall's edge. He yanked hard, the steel cable pulled taut, and Highworker traced a beautiful crescent through the air.
He dropped directly from the third floor to the second.
The steel cable claw was an essential weapon for classic-style mechanical hunters.
Although the move looked cool, he only dared to jump like that from the third floor. If it had been the tenth floor—he was afraid of dying.
His follower, however, had clearly been frightened by the sudden move. It stood there blankly, completely motionless.