Every mechanical hunter had to master the art of having three burrows.
Aside from his own residence in Gasoline Town, Highworker also had his own secret base.
It was a metal scrap recycling station on the outskirts of the city. By now, very few people knew this place existed.
At the edge of the recycling station, inside a shed assembled from steel bars, Highworker was fiddling with the operating table he had "borrowed."
Compared with an ordinary surgical table, a cybernetic doctor's operating table was much rougher. Its four mechanical surgical arms were fitted with saws, pliers, electric drills, and angle grinders, all stained with blood.
Most cybernetic doctors' operations involved cybernetic modifications, so the table could also be used as a high-precision lathe.
"Sizzle." "Sizzle." "Sizzle."
Amid the sparks, Highworker wore protective goggles. With one hand, he operated the four mechanical arms through the control panel to perform brainwashing surgery; with the other, he held a welding torch and welded something onto the back of the artificial soldier's head.
Memory-bank data deletion in progress, 56%... 79%... 100%.
Brainwashing complete.
Injecting quadruped robot template.
Please select a suitable template from the following three quadrupeds: Tibetan Mastiff, Teddy, Husky.
"Teddy—no, Husky."
Once the drive templates for the neck, hands, and feet had been adjusted, Highworker attached electrodes to the temples for connection. A fingertip-sized control chip was embedded in the center of each electrode.
"Shake your head."
The artificial soldier's head slowly began to turn, first left, then right. Under the force of its servo motors, it spun faster and faster, as if it were high.
As expected of the Husky template.
"Stop, stop, stop. Adjust yourself first."
The metal head seemed to understand. It began adjusting its own angles and posture. Its quadrupedal imitation became more and more lifelike until it looked just like a real dog.
[First quadruped robot completed, Experience +200] Name: Human-Headed Dog Category: Quadruped Robot Quality: White-Grade+ Weight: 18 kg Speed: 23 km/h Control System: Low-Level Military Chip (Soldier Version) Energy Source: Energy Ore Digestor (Black-Market Model) Attack Module: None Attached Module: Biological Mode Remarks: Aside from the head, this thing has barely any technical content.
Highworker paid it no mind. He patted the "dog's head," and the artificial dog obediently jumped off the operating table and began running around like a dog.
Following the same pattern, four "Huskies" soon staggered and darted around the recycling station, leaping up and down with the air of dogs tearing apart a house.
However, putting a human head on a dog's body created an innate uncanny-valley effect.
The electronic brain was the CPU, the operating table provided the brainwashing and program implantation, and the battery was a miner's model bought from the flea market. The remaining components were all metal scraps from the recycling station.
But even so, a robot that could understand human speech instead of being a machine idiot was still extremely rare.
Only factory-affiliated troops had the qualifications to be equipped with mechanical hounds.
Soon, the mechanical ants were made as well. Compared with ants, they looked more like the four-wheel-drive toy cars he had played with as a child.
[First mechanical ant completed, Experience +50] Name: Mechanical Ant Category: Sensor Robot Quality: White-Grade Weapon System: Low-Level Stomp Device Remarks: A multi-degree-of-freedom robot driven by a set of servos, imitating the shape and movements of an ant.
After all, it was only a Level One mechanical blueprint. If not for the artificial soldiers' heads adding a certain degree of intelligence, it would have been no better than an artificial idiot.
The electronic chips, photosensitive diodes, and ultra-small motors used by the mechanical ants had all been bought from the flea market.
These materials were all "urban trash," scavenged by local scavengers. They were extremely cheap, so Highworker made a full thirty mechanical ants.
"Almost ready," Highworker muttered to himself. "There's only one last thing."
The flea market was located north of Motor City, in the outskirts. At the extreme eastern corner of the flea market stood an Old Friends Firearms Shop.
Unlike ordinary gun shops, this one sold not only homemade firearms but also melee weapons: hammers, shovels, knives, swords, and electromagnetic steel claws.
As he pushed aside the shabby door curtain, a hoarse voice rang out.
"Pretty boy, the thing you wanted this time wasn't easy to get."
Behind the counter, a hunched old granny turned around, smiling like a chrysanthemum. "Fortunately, Auntie Xiang has a few tricks up her sleeve. Otherwise, I really couldn't have made it."
Highworker sat down in the chair without ceremony. "Auntie Xiang, where's the thing?"
"Of course, of course. You idiot! Bring the thing out already!"
Soon, the back door opened, and a giant man at least two meters tall came out carrying a box.
"You idiot, be careful!" Auntie Xiang kicked him in the butt. The burly man merely gave a simpleminded smile, scratched his head, and said, "Mom, is there anything to eat?"
"Eat, eat, eat! All you know is eating! You're about to eat our whole shop into bankruptcy!"
Highworker smiled and tossed him a nutritional bar. "Fatty Xiang, it's a pity for your physique to not become a mechanical hunter."
Fatty Xiang's eyes lit up. He hurriedly caught it and stuffed it straight into his mouth without even removing the wrapper. He mumbled, "Mom won't let me. I listen to Mom."
Fatty Xiang was Auntie Xiang's son. The mother and son depended on each other for survival. Fatty Xiang had originally been an abandoned infant from the desert. It was said that he had been unusually fat at birth and had nearly been boiled and eaten. Fortunately, Auntie Xiang had passed by and bought him.
Aside from his enormous size and monstrous strength, he also had a mild intellectual disability. Whenever the original owner came to buy things, he often tricked Fatty Xiang into acting as cannon fodder for him.
"Come, come, come, customer, try the knife you ordered."
Auntie Xiang hurriedly interrupted their conversation, kicking and shoving Fatty Xiang through the back door. Highworker paid no mind and opened the knife case. A scarlet-red long blade appeared inside.
The blade was especially thick and heavy overall. Its hilt was longer than that of an ordinary Japanese sword, more like a miaodao. The end of the hilt had been machined into a threaded shape for a better grip, and the tip was the same, specially sharpened into a serrated edge. It looked like a truly vicious weapon.
"As you requested, the blade was made from tungsten-iron capable of cutting alloy steel. The edge and hilt were reinforced separately, and this old woman even waxed it for free. What do you think?"
Highworker smiled and tested its weight by hand. It was a little over ten kilograms, like carrying a chainsaw.
With a light swing, he sliced off a corner of the weapons stand as easily as cutting a cucumber with a kitchen knife.
Auntie Xiang narrowed her eyes. In her impression, only the oldest generation of mechanical hunters still chose cold weapons. Modern mechanical hunters had ever-greater firepower and increasingly advanced equipment, yet their hauls were getting smaller and smaller. She had not heard news of a beast above Grade B being hunted for quite some time.
A bunch of cowards!
"What's this blade called?"
"Red Unicorn!"
Name: Red Unicorn Category: Metal Blade Quality: Fine—(Custom Template) Weight: 13.4 kg Basic Attributes: DPS: 70.5; Attack: 47; Attack Speed: 1.5 attacks/sec; Attack Range: 1.8 m Additional Attributes: Armor-Splitting (+10.9% armor-piercing damage); Edge-Breaker (+8.7% critical damage) Plugin Slots: None Remarks: This is indeed a weapon for killing people, but are you sure you want to use it against mechanical bio-beasts?
"Thank you for your patronage. That'll be 831 mechanical coins. Cash or card?"
Highworker jumped. "Auntie Xiang, an assault rifle costs less than eighty, but you want eight hundred for a cold weapon? You're ripping off a regular customer too!?"
Auntie Xiang rolled her eyes. "There are cheap ones. A rebar spear made specially for scavengers. Ten coins. Want it?"
"You're charging way too much."
"Nonsense! If it weren't for the two-hundred-coin deposit, this old lady wouldn't even have started the job. Who still uses handmade cold weapons these days? Back then, among those hotheaded fools, how many ended up well?"
"How about three hundred?"
"Bullshit! Let me ask you again: throughout all of Motor City, who still knows how to forge blades? It's only because Auntie Xiang's hands haven't gone rusty yet. In a few more years, even if you want one, I won't be able to make it."
"But think about it, Auntie Xiang. If I use this blade to kill high-risk irradiated beasts, wouldn't that be advertising for you in disguise? It might even start a craze for cold-weapon hunting."
"Heh, heheheh. Talk again after you survive."
The two exchanged blows with words, fighting tooth and nail. In the end, Highworker haggled the price down to six hundred, but could not reduce it any further. According to Auntie Xiang, if the labor she had put into the blade was worth less than six hundred, she might as well use it to kill chickens.
"Swipe the card!"
Highworker reluctantly pulled out a card. It looked like a cafeteria meal card—and it really was the factory's meal card. In the Iron-Sand Desert, the factory's economic system had long since permeated every aspect of life.
This wiped out even the original owner's savings. If he gained nothing else, he would truly have to eat dirt.
Unless he sold his body to a rich woman in exchange for cheap living expenses.
Auntie Xiang snatched the card away, skillfully dug out an old POS machine, and smiled until the chrysanthemums on her face bloomed again.
"Cards are great. Those country bumpkins don't have this treasure. It was given to you by that little lover of yours again, wasn't it?"
Highworker raised his brows but said nothing. Auntie Xiang did not mind and continued, "Those country bumpkins are all sly as foxes. They make this old lady double- and triple-check every calculation. People aren't what they used to be. Their hearts have gone bad."
Highworker had come to this Iron-Sand Desert to prospect for gold when he was fifteen, and he had known Auntie Xiang for a long time. He put Red Unicorn into its case, thought for a moment, and spoke again.
"Auntie Xiang, you plan to have Xiangzi inherit this shop, right? But with his brains, are you sure he'll be able to protect it after you die?"
Auntie Xiang narrowed her triangular eyes and suddenly began cursing furiously. "Why the hell should I let a brat like you meddle in my affairs? Get lost! Fuck your mother! You want to send my son out as cannon fodder again! May your rotten heart and lungs rot away! Get lost, get lost, get the hell out of here!"
Highworker shrugged, slung the knife case over his back, and walked to the door. Then he turned around and said meaningfully, "Auntie Xiang, the times won't stop moving forward."
"Get lost, get lost, get lost!" Auntie Xiang grabbed something and threw it at him. "You piece of trash, take my trash with you and get out of here!"
Highworker caught the black blur and looked down. It was a bottle of blade oil.
After Highworker left, Auntie Xiang panted heavily, lost in thought.
"Mom, I think Brother Gao has a point. After you're gone, people will definitely trick me." A wronged voice came from behind the door.
"Shut up!!" Auntie Xiang shouted viciously. She looked exactly like a tigress protecting her cub.