Hax looked at the hologram that floated in front of him and clicked on the skill shop. Of course, he clicked it with his mind. Various fields of knowledge appeared one by one. The list mentioned physics, mechanics, mechanical engineering, material engineering, chemical engineering, and so much more. He didn't know which he should pick. Well, to be honest, he did not have the luxury to pick because he had no access point.
"The cost of upgrading Level-1 knowledge to Level-2 is 1000 access points? I have to teach ten muscleheads how to make a gun to earn them."
The ten muscleheads halted their work and looked at each other. Bodin had returned the other day and slapped his face with so much gold before he kidnapped fifty burly, muscled men and brought them to his forge. Of course, he refused to teach more than 10 and just let the rest of them stand by the side.
"I don't mean you guys. I'm just talking to myself. This is what people of science usually do, so get used to it."
The muscleheads felt something was wrong but dismiss it a few seconds later. Anyway, the pay was better than their last job, so they had nothing to complain about.
Hax tapped his pouches of gold hanging on his waist. That was right, pouches. He had counted each piece of gold coin, one by one, and the result was more than three thousand gold coins. Bodin told him that he could buy a spiritual crystal with that money.
As a norm, Hax had no interest in buying a spiritual crystal, but Bodin told him that just holding the crystal could extend his life for decades. Now, who would refuse that?
"Sadly, cultivators are generally not willing to sell their spiritual crystal because they are essential for their cultivation." That was what Bodin told him.
Hax flicked a gold coin with his fingers, it spun upward before landing on his palm. "Bodin is really generous. He even gave me 80% of the profit."
Bodin had also told him about how he sold the pistols. Hax thought the guy was really smart and resourceful. Who could sell a pistol for more than 500 gold coins? The material didn't even cost a single silver.
"If I limit the supply of the pistols and only sell them periodically, like what Bodin suggested. Then I could earn a lot of money by doing less work."
He laughed. "And If I teach these men how to make the gun, I could earn money while I sleep."
As Hax laughed and imagined how he could earn money in his sleep, the system rang inside his mind.
[Mission]
Mission: Selfless Endeavor
Requirement: Humanity has advanced and progressed by sharing their technology with each other. Without holding anything back, information came at a fast pace that led mankind to create and innovate. With the aliens at their doorstep, every man and woman needed to give everything they have to fight back. With that lesson, please fulfill the demand for the low-caliber pistol at a price that even the poor can buy them.
Reward: 3D Printer blueprint
His plan to make the pistol a high-priced commodity shattered
Hax grimaced. "Humanity this, humanity that, alien this, alien that. I don't care anything about humanity or aliens! All I care about is my past. Who am I? Why am I here? I know I am not from this world, so you better tell me how do I get back!"
[You can learn about your identity with your effort. Keep innovating and keep creating. Soon enough you will know who you truly are. The burden of mankind falls on your shoulder. It had fallen on you before, and it will always do.]
Hax ignored the remarks about the burden. "When you inject the skill knowledge in my head, some vague images came along with it. Did that mean as long as I keep buying knowledge, and keep making war machines I will learn my past?"
[Yes]
"Alright. I don't know why you are so obsessed to make me create these weapons of war. You said we need to prepare to fight the aliens. guess what, there are no aliens. Making all of these firearms will not let anyone protect themselves but instead will make it easier for them to kill each other. But if that is the price to learn my past, then I'll do it!"
While Hax returned to his job, teaching the ten muscleheads how to make a gun, Roselia, with a white and black hat, walked in an alley under the cover of night.
The hat covered much of her face, leaving her cherry lips under the glow of moonlight. Each of her steps echoed against the ground. It was unusual for a young lady like her to wander in this place, but she had a mission.
There was a bar close by, and that would be where she perform her deed. The bar seemed lively from outside, with dim lights, and barbaric laughter. The smell of liquor crawled to her nose, so strong it made her wince.
There was a wooden sign that read 'Drunkard Bar'. A suitable name for a suitable place.
Roselia pushed the wooden door. She barely heard its creak as glasses fell and broke. A burst of laughter followed, but it all became silent when they all put their eyes on her. Their gaze conveyed a lot of emotion: surprise, disgust, curiosity, but the stronger one was much more specific—greed.
A bald man chugged a full bottle of liquor down his throat before he stood and approached her. "And what business does this lady have in this sewage? You look like a heavenly peacock, unlike these dirt rats."
The men laughed. Their gaze slithered around her and she sensed desire within them.
Roselia clasped her hands, hiding them from view with her white long sleeves. "I'm looking for a companion for the night."
The bald man laughed. "Lady, I know everyone here would like to accompany you without even asking them. But we all know that only I am good enough for you."
"You are not good enough. I heard there is a worthy man for me in this bar."
The bald man removed his smile and took a step back. "He's upstairs."
"Thank you." Roselia walked past the bar. The drunkards no longer looked at her the same way. They were cowards. She ascended the stairs that led to the second floor where customers can rent a private room. Only those who had money, influence, and power could rent then.
When she arrived on the second floor, two thugs blocked her way.
"I'm looking for him," Roselia said.
"He's in room 13."
Roselia strode towards the hallway. There she saw a double door with the number 13th on the right side. She knocked on the door with her left hand and hid it again.
A man pulled the door. He had red messy hair, with a wrinkled shirt and tight pants. The man smiled as he put his sight on her. "Who do we have here?"
Roselia giggled. "I am looking for a man to accompany me. I heard you are the best a woman could ask for."
The man leaned on the door. "You certainly heard right. I'm the only cultivator that is willing to mingle with norms, especially a beautiful one such as you."
She ignored him and entered the room without asking.
"Eager, I see." The man smiled and closed the door.
She stood beside the bed and turned around, the man had already taken off his shirt and thrown it away.
"Should I give you my body first, or do you want to dig in the main course immediately?
Roselia took off her hat and let her silver hair fall on her face.
The man looked with admiration in his eyes. " So beautiful. I'll make sure we have a good time tonight. What do you want? Good clothes? Jewelry? Mansion? I will give you anything if you stick with me."
Roselia smiled. "It seems you have forgotten."
"Forget what?"
"The Devil's Blade."
The man jerked and jumped at her, but she already anticipated that.
Her right hand came out of her sleeve, revealing a cocked pistol. She fired and the man fell with a bloody hole in his chest.
Roselia took a step back as the man pointed at her.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"I'm one of your victims," she said, still pointing her gun at him. "All those people you killed. They have wives, sons, and daughters. You take everything from them. Now it's their turn to take everything from you. This weapon is bought by gathering all the money from those you hurt."
She took a step forward. "How does it feel? Do you think exiling yourself in the corner will save your life?"
"I'm a cultivator. You can't kill me."
"With this weapon, I can and I will."
"No! Wait!
Bang!
The next day, the Drunkard Bar was filled with uproar. For fear of offending the cultivator, the worker of the bar did not dare to check on the room even after they heard a loud noise from the inside. It was when the time to serve breakfast did they entered the room. And to their shock, they found the cultivator lay dead on the floor. The death of a cultivator was not unusual because they tend to take risks to advance their cultivation. It was a different thing if a normal woman came out of a room where the cultivator had died.
Everyone who had a brain could gather the puzzle together and form a consensus. A norm could kill a cultivator. As soon as this topic came into discussion among the norms, the town was in shock.
The cultivator had always been formidable in their mind. Only strong spiritual disasters or magic beasts could hurt them. There was not a single event that talked about a norm hurting a cultivator. Even if the cultivators were injured or sick, they could use their strong bodies or weird magic to defeat the norms.
There were some limitations to their power. If a cultivator were vastly outnumbered then, they would exhaust themselves before being killed. But the number of norms needed to kill a single cultivator was too large.
Hardly anyone would throw themselves to die.
This was why the news that a single norm could kill a cultivator was mind-blowing. Nobody knew how she did it. No one could ask her either because she had disappeared. But after much investigation by the locals, they finally know the truth. It was a weapon called the pistol that allow the woman to kill the cultivator.
This was another massive bombshell to the norm. A weapon that could kill a cultivator had never appeared. Large crossbows and trebuchets could hurt a cultivator, but hitting them was almost impossible because cultivators were always quick and versatile.
The search for the seller of this pistol commenced. Most of the norms backed away when they heard the price of the pistols, but the wealthy pushed onward until they found the seller.
"Bodin The Great Merchant? What a suitable name for someone that can sell a pistol. I must meet him and buy a lot of it even if I have to sell all of my mansions."