Ordinary people buying contraband: Introduced by someone, careful door-to-door, after layers of exploitation, perhaps seeing the real thing, with the probability of people losing their money.
Witcher buys contraband: scrutinize the local power mob, pick a good target, break in with a night attack, and communicate in a friendly manner.
Triumph's big bathhouse, heat curling up, full of injured people, the pool red with blood, countless mob hitmen rolling around in agony on the smooth floor.
The gang leader, who had a broken leg, braced himself against the bookcase with a ragged breath.
"Who the hell are you people!"
Eleazar, who was hovering with a ball of red and blue energy in his palm, slowly approached him.
"A small gang that just occupies several underground casinos and rings actually has thousands of henchmen?"
"The incredibly lucrative land and water trade, what makes you, who never fights, get a piece of the action?"
Eleazar looked at the white-faced gang leader and said lightly, "You're a very shrewd arms dealer, Mr. Caesar..."
"On the surface, you're just a very normal gang leader with little ambition to expand your territory, but secretly you, who holds the arms resources, are the biggest winner in Reno City, because the harder the other gangs fight, the more money you make."
"And you're also very sensible, you definitely don't touch what you can't touch, and you don't try to explore what you don't have a clear plan for, so you're in the default gray area, making waves and raking in the dough, so every time you purge, you'll always be able to quickly reorganize your forces."
The gang leader, addressed as Caesar, had bean-sized drops of sweat on his forehead.
"The Church will surely sanction you for using witchcraft so recklessly!"
"Witchcraft?"
Eleazar looked at the red and blue elemental orbs swirling back in his palms, then turned his head to look at the witch again.
Evelea: "It's what they call it over in Ruin!"
"Oh, so it's from Rune's side, no wonder it holds a supply."
Caesar braced himself in pain, "What the hell do you want!"
"Oh, actually, I wanted to borrow a little something from you."
"It's just blackmail, do you have to be so violent?"
Eleazar smiled, "Since I don't have that much to tip those henchmen of yours, I had to walk in like this."
Certain that the other man was not a cop, Caesar's face calmed down a bit, "How much do you want?"
"No, no, no, you misunderstand me, I'm not like that."
"So what do you really want?"
Eleazar dissipates the cold energy heat and pulls out his left wheel and spins it around.
"Well, as you can see, I'm a firearms enthusiast and often practice in unoccupied areas, but from time to time I've been plagued by a consumable that has prevented me from ever being able to play with it as much as I'd like..."
Caesar, who was very skilled with firearms, narrowed his eyes at the black revolver.
"7.62 caliber? OK, I'll send you ten boxes of Boxer-style primers totaling 10,000 rounds, enough to last you a long time, as my meet-and-greet gift!"
Eleazar looked at him with a smirk, "Am I going to have to send you my address and then wait for you to put all ten thousand rounds of this on my house?"
"It's best if you have a way to transport it yourself!" Caesar forced a face.
"Actually, I play with guns very little, maybe once or twice in a few months, and with such a small consumption, do you think there's any way I could make my own bullets?"
"I don't have that kind of equipment!" Caesar blushed instantly.
"Guess how those people told me all the information about you one by one?"
Eleazar refloats the elemental orb in his hand.
Witchcraft of the Tortured Mind!
Caesar, who had spent a long time hanging out in Rouen, blushed profusely and quickly changed his tone, "I can get you a batch, but it'll take a few days!"
Eleazar said faintly as his palm clenched, obliterating the flames and cold, "Then there's nothing to be done about it."
"I... I remember, I think there's an old cartridge lathe and press in the basement!"
Pushed to the breaking point, Caesar was finally willing to tell the truth.
Then following the limping gang leader to the hiding room, the three realized the reason for the other's stammering.
Gold and silver jewelry, famous paintings and antiques, the glow of wealth tantalizes.
Not many people can hold on to a place like this.
The witch leapt to her feet with both eyes.
Caesar looked back and said in an inexplicable tone, "Take as much as you can?"
As long as you guys can carry it!
At first, he was filled with resistance, preferring to die rather than expose his wealth, and it wasn't until later that he suddenly figured it out.
Those are things that these guys can't even take with them, so what's the harm in letting them see them!
Eleazar took the hand that was just about to go for the gold in one hand and smiled, "Where is the stuff?"
"Just ahead."
At the end of the hidden room, a small, narrow, metal-smelling processing room is revealed as the gang leader opens a hidden door.
Inside are furnaces, lathes, presses, and all kinds of metal working equipment.
Eleazar scanned the room and smiled at him, "I don't suppose you're rusty in your craft, go make me a bullet."
Caesar blushed bitterly, "My leg..."
It's not bad to be able to hold on and walk here with a leg that's been stiffly broken, so how can you still have the strength to work.
"Boo!"
Eleazar suddenly punched the wooden door.
"I'll do it, I'll do it!"
Caesar was trembling with fear.
Eleazar, however, picks at two planks and tilts his head.
"Put your legs up."
A moment later, the gangster, who had barely stabilized his leg injury, was doing a somewhat rusty job with an odd look on his face.
Cut a palm-sized piece of copper from the raw material next to it, put it on the press, hold the handle with both hands with some effort, press it down with all the strength of his body, and repeat it several times before barely stamping the piece of copper into a copper shell with a small hole at the bottom.
Then it's back to the old hand-cranked lathe to slowly work out a slug. A primer cap is added, loaded, and finally the slug is stamped into the case and a warm bullet is freshly made.
"Making bullets is actually quite simple."
Caesar handed that bullet over, carefully said, "But then, it is easy to say, after all, it is used when playing with life, to pay attention to the accuracy and stability, a qualified bullet is born, at least after more than ten process inspection, that is the most perfect quality, like my kind of processing and manufacturing can only be regarded as a rough product, there are duds, blowing up the chamber, poor accuracy, etc., all kinds of risks ....."
Eleazar twists the bullet and glances blandly at the two pieces of equipment, and a few raw materials.
Copper sheet, primer cap, powder...
No wonder my father had to get help from others to work on the silver bullets.
Eleazar turned his head to look at Fina.
She nodded darkly, "Luckily I went back to make some space out."
The warhead forming molds, processing lathes, and stamping presses suddenly disappeared in a shroud of red light.
The gangster was stunned on the spot and sat on his ass.
It was a horror of sorcery unlike anything he had ever seen!