The conversation between Steven and Patriot was interrupted—not because Steven wanted to stop talking, but because Yelena, who had been hiding inside the tent, could no longer endure hearing her father start spouting nonsense.
What did he mean by saying that she and Steven were together? Where did he see any sign of that happening?
Sure, she saw Steven as a benefactor, a good and easygoing friend, but that was all. How could her father say something like that?
As a result, both Steven and Patriot suddenly felt a cold gust of wind rush out from Yelena's tent, creeping all the way to their feet. The girl then emerged, her face tinged with pink, and shot them both an exasperated glare.
"Father, weren't you the one who always said not to make decisions on things that aren't certain? And Mr. Steve, you too. It's dangerous for an ordinary person like you to be in an Infected camp. If there's nothing important, you should leave now. I can escort you out later."
With her hands on her hips, she loudly scolded the two of them.
Steven could only watch as the towering Sarkaz man—standing over three meters tall—took the scolding in silence, like a poor father being lectured by his daughter.
These two… quite the interesting father and daughter pair.
Seeing Steven still managing to smile at a time like this made Yelena even more annoyed. Did he really think this was no big deal? Well, of course, considering how things looked, he was definitely not on the losing end of the situation.
"Still smiling? Let's go. Haven't you noticed that my father doesn't actually welcome you? If you stay here any longer, he'll just follow you around and keep an eye on you every second of the day. He's the kind of person who always follows through on his words."
Rolling her eyes at Steven, Yelena was genuinely curious—how did someone with such formidable abilities develop such an indifferent and carefree personality?
"Oh? Now that you mention it, you just reminded me of something. Mr. Patriot, you're the leader of the Guerrilla Fighter, correct?"
Steven scratched his head, as if suddenly remembering something, then turned to look at the silent Sarkaz elder beside him.
"That's just what people call me."
Although he didn't understand why Steven was asking, Patriot still gave him a serious response.
"As long as you have the final say, that's what matters. Actually, besides being a traveler, I also have another identity that I forgot to mention—I'm a businessman."
Steven grinned, rubbing his fingers together in a gesture that unmistakably meant money.
"..."
"The Guerrilla Fighter have no money."
After a brief silence, Patriot responded flatly. The guerrillas focused on rescuing oppressed Infected and fighting against the Infected patrol squads. Occasionally, they might seize some supplies from the patrol squads, but most of the time, even feeding themselves was a struggle.
As for making transactions with people? That was simply out of the question.
"No, I don't need money—at least, not the money from you Infected."
Steven shook his head. Making money was only worthwhile if it came from the rich. Taking money from the poor? What kind of skill was that?
"Then what do you want? And what can you offer?"
Now that the discussion had turned serious, Yelena naturally shut her mouth and quietly stood behind Patriot, taking on the role of an observer.
Patriot looked at Steven seriously and asked the most fundamental question.
"That's right. If you want to trade, you have to show your goods first."
Steven nodded in agreement with Patriot's words, then skillfully reached into his backpack. Like a magician, he pulled out one item after another.
"First, food. Whether it's meat, potatoes, wheat, beets, or pumpkins, however much the Guerrilla Fighter needs, I can provide."
He poured out sacks of food onto the ground as if they were worthless. Even the well-traveled Patriot couldn't help but widen his eyes at the sight.
This was no illusion—the smell of the food, the texture when picked up—everything confirmed that these were real, tangible supplies. Despite them all coming from Steven's seemingly tiny bag, they were undeniably genuine.
"Next, essential items for warmth. You may have enough coal, but I don't see many of your soldiers with proper cold-weather gear."
Steven glanced at Yelena. Maybe she wasn't afraid of the cold, but even she was only wearing a thin coat. That alone showed just how poor the Guerrilla Fighter were.
But for Steven, this was no issue at all.
From his backpack, he took out various kinds of wool, laying them on the ground in a colorful display that resembled a rainbow bridge.
"And finally, this might not be a necessity, but I'm sure you won't want to pass it up. Just to be clear—this is limited in quantity."
With a mysterious smirk, Steven reached into his pocket and pulled out a finely crafted M1911 pistol. With a quick flick, he spun the gun in his hand before firing a shot into the empty ground nearby.
He had no intention of selling weapons to Talulah—first, because she probably couldn't afford them, and second, because he hadn't yet seen what he needed to from her.
But the Guerrilla Fighter was different. They had consistently proven their dedication to resisting Ursus's oppression and rescuing their fellow Infected.
That, Steven could accept. Selling arms to them wasn't an issue—especially since he controlled the supply of ammunition and could cut them off at any time.
Besides, he preferred dealing with a group that focused solely on freeing Infected without interfering in other people's choices.
Of course, none of this would come free.
And just as expected, the moment Steven revealed the firearm, even Yelena instinctively stepped forward. She quickly covered her mouth, suppressing her look of shock.
She hadn't sensed any Originium Arts energy when Steven fired that shot. In other words, his weapon required no Originium Arts to function.
She and Patriot both understood what that meant.
The Guerrilla Fighter suffered losses in every battle, and training a new soldier took far longer than losing one in combat. But if they had weapons like these, training a soldier would become much easier.
"What do you want in exchange?"
Suppressing his internal shock, Patriot remained outwardly calm. Steven's display was beyond anything he had ever encountered, but after enduring the trials of time, he knew there was no such thing as a free lunch.
The more valuable the goods, the higher the price.
He no longer cared how Steven had managed to bring out all these supplies—he only wanted to know what it would take to trade for them.
As Steven had said, these were essential materials for the Guerrilla Fighter.
They were still human.
They still feared hunger and cold.
No one could refuse what was in front of them.
As long as Steven's asking price was reasonable.
"It's simple. Way simpler than you think. I'm a well-known, kind-hearted businessman. The villages nearby are already thinking of building a monument in my honor. The legendary super philanthropist—that's me."
Steven patted his chest confidently. As a businessman with integrity, he was certified by the entire village. Not a single soul had ever accused him of being unscrupulous.
Except for himself.
"What I want is simple. You guys frequently raid the mines to rescue people, right? But you can't really use the extra minerals for anything. Even if you try, all you can make are some crude tools. But I'm different—I need those materials."
Steven stroked his chin, a sly merchant's grin spreading across his face. If the villagers saw him like this, they'd probably burst out cheering. After all, whenever he smiled like this, it meant "the super philanthropist" was about to assign them work again—another sign that meat was on the menu soon.
Just like how he hired villagers to chop wood for him, Steven figured, why not hire people to mine for him?
Or to be more precise—not mine, but plunder.
After all, as the saying goes, "Robbery and arson put gold belts on your waist."
Looting was way faster than digging.
Steven had observed before—when the Yeti Squad attacked the mines, they only took the infected miners, occasionally grabbing valuable and easy-to-carry metals. But iron, copper, and other bulk materials? They just left them behind.
How could he just sit back and watch?
If they didn't want it, they could just give it to him.
Sure, others might not value these scraps, but Steven had plenty of uses for them.
After all, he could craft things himself—no need for fancy machinery or industrial equipment.
Hearing Steven's request, Patriot was momentarily stunned.
Perhaps he hadn't expected Steven to actually want something so simple.
After a long silence, when Steven didn't add any further conditions, the old warrior finally asked in a slightly doubtful tone.
"What's the ratio?"
"One pound of ore for one pound of food? I haven't decided yet. I'll figure it out after I do some calculations."
Steven scratched his head. This was just an idea that popped into his head at the moment.
He wasn't sure how to set the exact price—it was too much of a hassle to calculate.
Besides, he wasn't familiar with the local economy.
Better to let Talulah handle it.
She had nothing better to do all day anyway.
And after all the favors she owed him, making a simple spreadsheet should be the least she could do, right?
"Deal. The Guerrilla Fighter will take all these supplies."
Patriot nodded decisively.
Then, right in front of Steven, he walked over to the pile of goods—the very ones Steven had displayed for trade—as if afraid Steven would change his mind.
What kind of insane world was this?
Even a warrior as powerful as Patriot was this desperate for supplies?
For a moment, Steven didn't know how to react.
He could only force a smile, once again marveling at how utterly surreal this world was.
<+>
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind spending $5 monthly to see till the latest chapter, please go to my Patreon[1]
Latest Chapter in Patreon: Chapter 182: Why Target This Little Iberian Chick?[2]
Link to the latest chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/124724465?collection=55713[3]
https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl[4]
[1] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl
[2] https://www.patreon.com/posts/arknightcraft-124768044
[3] https://www.patreon.com/posts/124724465?collection=55713
[4] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl