Li Qingyu waved his hand: "Not a chance, hand over the cash!"
Nepal the dealer still couldn't believe his ears.
"But my informants reported that some scrawny bum broke into the Chemists' base and blew himself up! They claim this suicide bomber was you!"
Li Qingyu retorted: "Lies. If it were me, wouldn't I be dead? But here I stand. Give me the money, quickly."
The dealer hesitated: "But... but..."
Li Qingyu's face darkened. "Ah, right! It was me. I was blown to molecules by a thirty-five-kilogram bomb, and then Father Emperor reached out, gathered everything together, and – voila! Imagine, I resurrected! Stop stalling, money on the table!"
Nepal fell silent, staring at Li Qingyu. His brain worked feverishly, but in the end, pragmatism triumphed over curiosity. Resigned to reality, he counted out ten thousand.
Li Qingyu took the money and counted it, not caring at all that his secret might have been revealed.
This is the world of Warhammer 40,000, where all sorts of crap and heresy abound. There are plenty of strange things here.
So what if a person who died a second ago is now demanding his debt from you. Maybe it's a double? Or a clone? Or maybe he's an Eternal?
In short, in a world where demons roam the streets and planet-destroying technologies hang in orbit, everyone has their little secrets. And these secrets don't matter – only the profit here and now matters.
Nepal dismissed the extra thoughts and, watching Li Qingyu deftly count the bills, calculated: this guy had already earned seventy to eighty thousand from him. He should probably put some of the funds back into the till.
Clearing his throat, he said, "My good friend, after so many successful deals, our friendship has only grown stronger. Perhaps you should take a look into the depths of my humble shop? I have many exotic new items that are sure to interest you."
*Ding!* Merchant Nepal's attitude increased: Level 1 → Level 2. Expanded assortment unlocked!
Li Qingyu's eyes lit up: "Show me!"
They went deeper into the store. Here, large-scale equipment and all sorts of junk, brought from who knows what junkyard, were piled up.
Among the pile of iron, Li Qingyu's gaze immediately picked out several units.
High-pressure and high-temperature hydraulic press: a key device for upgrading the workbench to the third level. It can be used to press armor, casings, and makeshift weapon parts.
Powder mixture mixer: needed for loading ammunition, allows the creation of large-caliber, high-penetration projectiles.
Device for cleaning and mixing ceramic crumb: used for producing ceramic armor. It crushes and cleans the ceramic, mixes it with metal additives, and then the mixture goes under the press.
As for the prices: press – 120,000, powder mixer – 30,000, ceramic unit – 80,000.
In addition, the dealer had various types of gunpowder for crafting ammunition and ceramic powder of different grain sizes for armor of different classes.
Li Qingyu was glad that everything needed to upgrade the workbench could be bought in one place, but upon seeing the price tags, he immediately drooped.
He had toiled like a cursed man, and he only had 85,000 in his pocket. And this joy in total costs 230,000! Not affordable, not at all!
Noticing Li Qingyu's sour expression, Nepal broke into a smile.
He realized the client was hooked. These treasures had already captured the heart of the mysterious guy, and now he would tear himself apart to earn money and buy this old stock.
Li Qingyu sighed heavily: "Do you have any more work for me?"
Nepal shook his head with a smile: "Not yet, but you can drop by later."
Li Qingyu looked at the three machines with longing and timidly asked, "Can I..."
"I don't give credit!" the merchant cut him off before he could finish.
"Sigh!" Li Qingyu sighed again.
Nepal asked in a honeyed voice, "My good friend, would you like to purchase anything else?"
Li Qingyu grumbled gloomily, "Give me a gas mask."
After paying and taking his purchase, he left the shop and trudged dejectedly to his shelter.
He felt miserable. He wanted money! But where to get it?
If you think logically in loot shooters, there are few ways to get rich: go on a raid to kill, complete quests, loot junk, or trade on the market.
But the level of his shelter was too low, he couldn't produce anything valuable for sale yet, and this made him particularly melancholic.
However, to say that there was no valuable product at all would be untrue. Holy Oil from the Emperor's altar is a very elite item.
Not just elite, but a real imba!
It purifies from Chaos corruption. If you eat a flatbread fried in it, you immediately feel enlightened, and you even get a bonus to spirit.
It's an incredibly powerful thing, but in a dump like the Lower Hive, it's like casting pearls before swine.
If he could feed such a flatbread to the Planetary Governor or an Ecclesiarchy priest, he could establish a sales channel.
The problem was that he had no access to such big shots, and he didn't have the strength to hold onto such a windfall. What could he do?
After lying on the bed and sighing, Li Qingyu got up and started getting ready. He would have to do quests.
He decided to take on a quest from Raynor of the Water Guild, and at the same time, buy cooking oil in the safe zone to distill into Holy Oil.
Li Qingyu began to equip himself: he put on his SIT helmet and armor, strapped two iron plates to his forearms and shins.
He threw six gas grenades and two smoke grenades into his backpack, and tucked a pistol into his belt.
Finally, he picked up a two-handed pipe, weighed it in his palm – it felt perfect.
He found this pipe in the ruins. A standard Water Guild model. One end was sharp, cut at an angle – perfect for stabbing.
At the other end was a massive 90-degree elbow adapter. It acted as a counterweight, turning the pipe into a sort of war hammer.
And on the adapter itself was the cast Water Guild logo. If he hit hard enough, he could leave his signature mark right on someone's carcass.
Li Qingyu wrapped the pipe's handle with a rag, put on his gas mask, and headed for the safe zone with a wide stride.