A technician from the Chemical Gang slid a poison needle across a long metal table toward him.
"Oh? Strong young man… so eager to serve the gang?"
"Here—take one. I guarantee you'll feel like you're in heaven."
His gaze lingered on Li Qinwu's naked body—lean muscle, tightly coiled with strength. For a moment, the technician even considered whether someone like this could be "reassigned" elsewhere.
Li Qinwu slapped the needle away.
"Scram! I only smoke Furongwang cigarettes!!"
Then—
He leapt onto the table.
Thousands of eyes turned toward him.
Something felt… off.
Too confident.
Too deliberate.
---
Li Qinwu's hand moved toward the trigger cord of the bomb pack strapped to his back.
But under so many gazes—
This moment demanded something more.
A declaration.
A statement.
He paused for a fraction of a second—
Then grinned.
"For the Space King!!!"
---
He yanked the trigger.
BOOM.
Thirty-five kilograms of explosives detonated instantly.
There was no pain.
No awareness.
Only annihilation.
---
The next moment—
He opened his eyes.
Back in his hideout.
Naked.
Completely unharmed.
---
Eight hours had passed.
That was his resurrection timer.
Upgrade the "bed," reduce the cooldown.
Simple.
---
He jumped up, threw on clothes and shoes, and rushed straight to the black marketeer.
Hand outstretched.
"Pay up!!"
The Nepalese black marketeer froze, staring at him as if seeing a ghost.
"…Weren't you dead?"
---
Black Market Merchant Level 2 ↑
Li Qinwu waved dismissively.
"Details don't matter. Money first."
The black marketeer frowned, clearly unsettled.
"My informant said… someone charged into the Chemical Gang's base and self-detonated."
"…He said it was you."
Li Qinwu shrugged.
"If it were me, I'd be dead, right? So how am I here?"
"Stop overthinking. Pay."
"…But—"
Li Qinwu's expression darkened slightly.
"Fine."
He leaned forward, voice turning dry.
"That was me. I got blown into atoms by a 35-kilogram bomb."
"Then the Emperor reached down, scooped me up—surprise—I'm back."
"Now pay."
---
The black marketeer fell silent.
In this world…
Was that really impossible?
Warp anomalies. Clones. Immortals. Possessed bodies.
Compared to those—
Resurrection didn't even rank high on the list of absurdities.
---
Practicality won.
He handed over 10,000 vouchers.
Li Qinwu counted them calmly, unconcerned.
Secrets didn't matter here.
Only value did.
---
The black marketeer watched him, calculating.
This man had already taken tens of thousands from him.
Time to recover losses.
He cleared his throat, tone softening.
"My valued customer… after so many successful dealings, our relationship has deepened."
"Perhaps… you'd like to browse further?"
---
Ding!
Favorability increased: Level 2 unlocked.
---
Li Qinwu's eyes lit up.
"Show me."
---
They moved deeper into the shop.
Large machinery filled the space—salvaged relics of unknown origin.
Three items immediately stood out.
---
High-Temperature Hydraulic Press
Core requirement for upgrading the workbench to Level 3.
Capable of pressing armor plates, casings, and precision components.
Gunpowder Modulator
Compresses and refines ammunition. Enables high-penetration rounds.
Ceramite Powder Processor
Purifies and mixes ceramite compounds for armor production.
---
Prices:
120,000
30,000
80,000
---
Li Qinwu's excitement vanished instantly.
Total needed: 230,000.
Current funds: ~85,000.
Not even close.
---
The merchant smiled faintly.
Hook set.
Now the fish would struggle on its own.
---
Li Qinwu exhaled.
"…Any jobs?"
"None for now."
---
"…Credit?"
"No."
Immediate.
Absolute.
---
"…Why…"
No answer.
---
"…Fine."
Li Qinwu sighed again.
"Gas mask."
---
Transaction complete.
He left the shop, mood heavy.
---
Money.
He needed more.
Fast.
---
By game logic, income sources were simple:
Kill.
Complete quests.
Loot.
Resell.
---
But his hideout was too low-level.
No high-value production.
---
Except—
Holy Oil.
---
A product of the Emperor's shrine.
High-tier.
Ridiculously powerful.
It purified Chaos contamination completely.
Enhanced mental clarity.
Boosted energy.
---
In the underhive?
This was a hidden treasure.
---
But—
Who could buy it?
Planetary governors? Ecclesiarchy priests?
He had no access.
No protection.
No influence.
---
Selling it carelessly would get him killed.
---
Lying on his bed, he sighed.
No solution.
---
So—
Back to work.
---
Next target:
A job from Reno of the Water Purification Guild.
And—
A trip to the safe zone.
He needed more oil.
More production.
---
Preparation began.
Helmet on.
Improvised armor—iron plates strapped to limbs.
Gas grenades ×6. Smoke grenades ×2.
Pistol secured.
---
Then—
A weapon.
A reinforced water pipe.
---
Standard issue from the Water Purification Guild.
One end sharpened—capable of piercing.
The other fitted with a 90° joint—weight concentrated for impact.
Blunt force.
Piercing force.
Dual-purpose.
---
The guild's insignia was stamped on the metal.
With enough force—
It would leave a mark.
---
He wrapped cloth around the grip.
Picked up the gas mask.
And moved.
---
Honest Business Practices
Reno, a junior manager of the Water Purification Guild, had a problem.
His workers had been tricked.
Humiliated.
By a brothel owner.
---
Reputation mattered.
And Reno intended to restore his.
---
The Water Purification Guild—
An essential organization in humanity's interstellar empire.
Across countless worlds, environments varied wildly.
Toxic atmospheres. Polluted oceans. Industrial wastelands.
Water purification meant survival.
---
On some planets: state-controlled.
Others: private enterprises.
Others still: gang-operated monopolies.
---
On agricultural world 496b—
Conditions were relatively stable.
Clean environments. Lower demand.
The Guild remained small.
Localized.
---
But in the underhive—
Water was everything.
---
---
Safe zone.
Red-light district.
---
Li Qinwu crouched in a corner, smoking.
Eyes fixed ahead.
---
Target:
A three-story garbage structure.
---
Outside—
A brothel madam.
Fat. Aging.
Flanked by several women.
Soliciting customers.
---
Behind them—
Inside the building—
Men sat playing cards.
Enforcers.
---
Li Qinwu spat.
Disdain.
---
He had his own code.
Kill for money?
Fine.
Sell bodies?
Also fine.
---
But deception?
That crossed the line.
---
The madam tailored traps.
Honey traps.
Manipulation.
Driving customers away through fear and trickery.
---
Bad business.
Unacceptable.
---
Li Qinwu took a final drag.
Crushed the cigarette underfoot.
---
Gas mask on.
Grenades drawn.
Pins pulled.
---
He walked forward.
Step by step.
---
"Hey handsome~ come have some fun~"
The madam called out sweetly.
The women behind her swayed, exposing skin, trying to entice passing scavengers.
---
But business was failing.
The underhive economy had collapsed.
Less waste from above.
Less income.
Fewer customers.
---
They were starving.
---
Then—
They saw him.
Approaching directly.
---
Hope ignited.
A customer.
---
Before a word could be spoken—
Li Qinwu threw.
---
Two gas grenades.
Straight into the building.
---
They detonated on impact.
Valves burst open—
Releasing thick, yellow-green clouds.
---
Within five seconds—
The entire first floor was saturated.
---
The enforcers inside inhaled it—
And immediately collapsed into violent coughing.
Their lungs burned as if filled with acid.