Wang Xian walked out of the Division Seven office, calm, composed.
He hadn't escaped. They'd let him go.
The call the agent received mid-interrogation changed everything. After he left, the same middle-aged man crouched and picked up the flattened bullet Wang Xian had dropped.
He turned it over in his hand.
It had no tip—just a warped, dull smear of lead.
He stared at it in silence. A long, heavy breath escaped his lips.
"The times," he whispered hoarsely, "have really changed."
Wang Xian rode through Jecheng on his three-wheeled electric cart, the wind whipping past him as he cruised toward his next destination.
The Transfer Temple.
He needed skills—combat ones. The sacrificial class had immense power, but aside from [God Abandonment], he lacked any real active offense.
He needed versatility.
His first hope was the Temple.
When he arrived, the small-town transfer shrine was laughable compared to the majestic scale of those in Jinshi or the capital. Still, it had what he needed—mentors.
He walked up to the warrior mentor, a 2.3-meter-tall slab of muscle and scars.
"Sir, I'd like to learn some skills," Wang Xian said respectfully.
The man squinted down at him. "You're not a warrior."
"I'm not," Wang Xian admitted, "but I can use all class skills."
The mentor waved him off without looking again. "Then go find someone else to entertain."
Wang Xian: …
Well. That route's closed.
Time for Plan B.
The Makeshift Market
Just outside the shrine, a ragged bazaar had taken shape.
Most stalls were cheap—basic food, rough clothing, hand-carved talismans. A few desperate players offered rusty whiteboard gear for a few silver coins.
Wang Xian paid 10 silver to take over a prime corner space. Then another 1 silver for a decent signboard.
With a pen in hand, he scrawled five bold words across it:
[SELLING GREEN GEAR – BUYING SKILL BOOKS]
Then, without flair, he dropped two glowing green items on the mat.
A two-meter-long spiked mace, and a pair of animal-hide leather pants.
Both shimmered faintly.
He adjusted their attribute visibility and posted them with his coordinates in the local channel:
[SELLING]
Giant Mace (Green) ATK +50 / STR +7 / Trait: Brute Force
Goblin's Beloved Leather Pants (Green) DEF +60 / MDEF +40
Seconds later, a mob formed.
Eyes burned with hunger.
Dozens gathered, forming a tight ring around Wang Xian, staring at the two items like wolves circling a fallen deer.
"Bro, how much for the mace?" asked a scrappy-looking youth, reaching down slowly.
SHING!
The Scorpion Tail Sword materialized instantly in Wang Xian's hand. In one swift motion, he pressed its razor tip against the young man's throat.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"You can look," Wang Xian said, voice cold. "But if your fingers touch what's mine again, you'll lose more than gold."
The young man's face went pale. Sweat broke out across his brow.
"I-It's a misunderstanding!" he stammered, retracting his hand with visible panic. "I didn't mean to!"
Wang Xian withdrew the blade.
"You'd better not have."
The crowd's murmurs died instantly. Fear kept them still. But their greed only grew.
"How much?" another voice asked. "For real this time."
"Ten gold coins," Wang Xian replied casually.
That made the tension explode.
"Ten gold?!"
"You nuts?! We're not NPCs!"
"That's a year's savings!"
Wang Xian didn't flinch. "This isn't your average trash gear. Top-tier green stats. You want power, you pay for it."
The same scrappy youth from earlier coughed awkwardly. "Look, I got... forty-seven silver coins."
Wang Xian raised a brow. "That's not bargaining. That's begging."
The kid scratched his head. "I can pay in Dragon Coins instead. Just say the number."
Wang Xian waved him off. "No."
The crowd was stunned. Rejecting hard currency?
"I don't want cash," Wang Xian said. "I want skill books. All classes. If you've got one that's useful, I'll trade."
The youth blinked. "I got a priest book. [Heal]. No one wants it."
He pulled it out of his pack. A dull, blue-bound book, barely glowing.
Wang Xian inspected it.
"Basic, but better than nothing." He pointed at the mace. "You want that? Bring me more. At least three different books. Doesn't matter what class. Impress me."
The crowd stirred again.
Someone muttered, "That's too vague. What's 'impress' even mean?"
Wang Xian leaned back on the crate behind him, the Scorpion Tail Sword twirling slowly in his fingers.
He looked around the crowd, locking eyes with a few players who flinched under his gaze.
"I don't care about your sob stories," he said. "I want value. You want my gear? Show me something worth trading. Otherwise... move along."