The explosion of the military's armed helicopter was not fully covered up due to the large number of witnesses on the highroad at the time. When the media exposed it, it created significant public pressure on the military. They eventually held a press conference, calling it an accidental incident during a military exercise. The toll of a highway worker who died from gunshot wounds was also explained as a death resulting from the explosion, and after compensating with a large sum of condolence money, the matter was closed with an official statement to the media and the public.
However, there was one thing that left Xu Mo feeling a bit annoyed. While browsing the official website of Shang Shan City government, he unexpectedly saw an announcement for the memorial service of Minister Wang of the Propaganda Department. The cause of his death was explained as a sudden heart attack, which could not be saved. After reminiscing about his achievements during his work, he was posthumously awarded the title of "Martyr."
Xu Mo sighed. Well, let him be a martyr. After all, the person was already dead, and Xu Mo had no interest in making a fuss over such a title.
Since it was close to the New Year, his parents, for once, refrained from discussing his academic performance, which had always been a topic that almost gave Xu Mo calluses in his ears. They eased up on their control over his leisure activities and even doubled his pocket money. As a result, Xu Mo had been living a thoroughly comfortable life. Apart from occasionally going out with his parents to visit relatives, the rest of his time was spent either playing online games at home or chatting with He Shang about random things. His peaceful life almost made him forget his other identity as an Apocalyptic Shard Wielder.
However, Xu Mo still remembered the white-clad man's comment before he left about his low-level "magazine manufacturing" enhancement. Seizing the opportunity one day while his parents were out, he used the three green shards he had exchanged from the white-clad man to enhance his "Ice Crusher" again. Two of the shards raised the "Ice Crusher" to its maximum level, and he used the remaining shard to make another magazine.
Although the appearance of the "Ice Crusher" did not change after the enhancement, there was significantly less light green smoke emitted from the exhaust hole when making the magazines. It seemed that the enhancement improved the efficiency of using the Apocalyptic Shard materials.
The magazines produced were still twenty in number, but their shape had changed. They were no longer the size and shape of a matchbox but had become more of a flat, rectangular form, similar to a real magazine. After testing it with real ammunition from his pistol, Xu Mo found that each magazine could now hold twenty rounds—twice the capacity before the enhancement. This meant that each green shard could now produce four hundred energy bullets.
After calculating, Xu Mo realized that the profit margin was an astounding five hundred percent. No wonder Du Zhizhang said that manufacturing-based items was like a money-printing cheat. But Xu Mo couldn't help but think that maybe his cheat was a little too overpowered!
Despite the shocking profit, Xu Mo remained rational. He knew that the three million figure was just the maximum theoretical amount. For one, the exchange rate between green shards and the Yuan was uncertain. Moreover, the consumption of magazines was yet to be tested. So far, the firearms he had seen were pistols. He had yet to see those high-speed guns that could fire hundreds of rounds per minute.
Furthermore, looking at Du Zhizhang and Chang Zitong's circumstances, Xu Mo realized that the number of Apocalyptic Shard wielders who could reach his level of proficiency was relatively small. And someone like the white-clad man, with his vast resources, was even rarer. It seemed that, in the World Fruit Trade Alliance, there wouldn't be many people with enough spare cash to buy magazines.
Considering all this, the imagined thirty million monthly income seemed more like a beautiful bubble that could burst at any moment.
Still, even with a 99% discount, thirty thousand a month was more than enough to live on. In a place like Shang Shan City, where the average income was only fifteen hundred yuan, thirty thousand was a sum that could provide a decent life for an ordinary person. Xu Mo even thought to himself that maybe he could consider working as a semi-professional arms dealer. At least that would ensure a worry-free life, without the constant danger of confronting terrifying creatures in the Apocalyptic Mirage.
Unfortunately, these thoughts of degradation would remain just thoughts. Xu Mo already understood what the world of Apocalyptic Shard wielders was like. "A man without guilt, carrying a jade" – with a money-printing cheat like this, he was like sitting on a volcano. One wrong move, and he would be reduced to ashes.
The bigger the profit, the more careful one had to be...
The time quickly passed, and it was now the eve of the New Year.
Chinese New Year had always been the most important festival of the year. No matter where life would take them, it always symbolized the start of a new hope.
The last day of the lunar year, known as Chinese New Year's Eve, had been given too much significance by the people over the course of thousands of years. However, in recent years, with the rapid development of society and the erosion of traditional culture, this day had become little more than a few empty symbols—firecrackers, family reunions, dumplings, and red envelopes.
Of course, there was also the annual New Year's Eve Gala, which could hardly be considered a tradition, more of a habit.
Xu Mo found it increasingly hard to care about the five-hour political propaganda broadcast on New Year's Eve, filled with praises and accolades. He could hardly muster any interest. With almost all channels broadcasting the same thing, he had to endure the endless faces that hadn't changed in over a decade, performing on stage. Bored, he sat on a small stool, helping his parents make dumplings for the evening meal.
His mother, Liu Shuxian, who knew him well, immediately noticed his absent-mindedness and asked, "Xiao Mo, are you feeling unwell?"
"No, just bored. I used to watch the Spring Festival Gala for the excitement, but now it's all political speeches. There's no fun anymore..." Xu Mo casually replied.
Liu Shuxian, a homemaker, didn't have much of a political understanding. Surprisingly, Xu Mo's father, Xu Nanshan, who read books and newspapers frequently, agreed, "The international situation is tense, and the government is already dealing with enough problems. Naturally, there can't be any chaos at home. During such extraordinary times, extraordinary measures must be used. Politics is about the results, not the process."
"When did you two start agreeing on something?" Liu Shuxian muttered, slightly annoyed, and slapped the pile of dumpling skins in front of them. "I don't care about politics. I only care about the household chores. If someone could give me a hand, I'd be content with my life."
"We're helping you, aren't we?" Xu Mo quickly interrupted, not wanting his mother to continue her incessant chatter.