"Boss! I've got the money......"

The thug's underling burst through the office door, briefcase clutched tight—then froze mid-step.

"......"

"......"

A grinning face clashed with dead-fish eyes. Their gazes, thick with unspoken tension, locked mid-air. Neither spared a glance for the intruder.

*One slip, and you’re dead.*

That unspoken rule held them both rigid. The air in the manager’s office turned thick enough to choke on—though that was pure exaggeration.

But the underling caught the full brunt of their killing intent head-on.

"Hah...."

The thug relaxed first. Instantly, all emotion vanished from Ouyang Ge’s eyes. The room’s atmosphere snapped back to "friendly."

"Put it down and get out," the thug waved him off.

"My apologies. In these peaceful times, it’s rare to go all out. A true hero like you? A real treat!" He refilled his glass with golden liquor and downed it in one gulp. "Consider this a small reward." He shoved a locked briefcase across the desk. It clicked open, revealing stacks of crisp Kingdom banknotes.

"What’s this for?" Ouyang Ge didn’t flinch. The money might as well have been trash.

"Didn’t I say? A prize. For clearing that game. Don’t be shy—it’s less than a drop in the ocean to me."

"Are you an arms dealer?"

"Huh?" The thug stared, surprised. "Sharp kid. No point lying, I suppose. Yeah, I deal arms. Small-time, though."

Ouyang Ge strode to the desk and shoved the open briefcase back. "I’ll use this to buy *real* gear."

"Seriously?"

"I’m not joking."

The thug’s eyes narrowed. So did Ouyang Ge’s.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!

The thug suddenly roared with laughter. "Bravo! Kids these days have guts! I’ll take your order—but!" He leaned forward, face inches from Ouyang Ge’s. "*Why* do you need real weapons?"

"To save someone!"

Unshakable will blazed in Ouyang Ge’s eyes. The thug caught that fierce light perfectly.

"Killing to save? I’ve heard that excuse a hundred times. But that look in your eyes? First time ever."

"Flattery noted." Ouyang Ge gave a faint, cool smile.

"Right! Almost forgot introductions. Call me ‘The Artisan.’ My real name? You know the rules."

"Don’t ask. Don’t doubt. Basic trade etiquette."

"Knew you were one of us! What a joy to meet a *brother* today! HAHAHAHA!" His booming laugh clashed wildly with his alias.

"I’ll leave now. In three days, I’ll collect: ten kilos of explosives, high-tensile steel wire, two pistols with ammo, and light daggers coated in light-absorbing material."

"Honestly? That case won’t cover half your order."

"What do you want instead?"

"Hmm... How about a fight?"

"Hah?" Ouyang Ge froze.

"Seeing a kid like you made my hands itch. Fight me. Win or lose—I’ll supply everything. Free."

"........"

Silent, Ouyang Ge weighed the stakes. *The Day of Destiny* loomed days away. His body could handle intense strain now, and he’d recover with the remaining time. But sacrificing six days of training? A brutal trade. Yet The Artisan’s offer was irresistible. Without gear, his untrained body stood no chance that night. Only one answer remained.

"Fine. I accept."

"HAHAHAHA! I love your spirit! Follow me!" The Artisan stood, striding toward a side room. Ouyang Ge followed without hesitation.

Behind the door lay not a room, but stairs descending into a vast, square underground training ground.

"Pick any light weapons you like," The Artisan gestured to racks bristling with guns and blades. "Heavy stuff? Forget it. Your arms couldn’t handle the recoil."

"Understood." Ouyang Ge grabbed a pistol and dagger. The Artisan mirrored him—but his pistol’s barrel was far thicker.

"Ready?" They faced each other.

"I am."

"Then—*here I come!*"

The Artisan’s combat boots slammed the floor as he charged. Ouyang Ge sidestepped smoothly, years of close-quarters combat in his bones. His dagger flashed toward The Artisan’s back—but the man twisted away just in time.

*BANG!*

*BANG!*

Two shots rang out simultaneously. Both bullets merely scarred the concrete.

Ouyang Ge’s eyes widened. He rolled, driving his dagger upward—straight between The Artisan’s legs.

"*GYAAAH!*"

Even The Artisan yelped at the black blade aimed at his groin. He tried to leap back—but too late. Ouyang Ge’s pistol pressed against his kidney. One shot meant fatal internal bleeding.

"I yield! I yield!" The Artisan dropped his weapons. Ouyang Ge stepped back, standing tall.

"Sneaky little bastard. You sure you’re a kid? Fights like a veteran."

"Not your concern." Ouyang Ge tossed the weapons back.

"Hmm... Your style reminds me of someone famous lately. Always targeting vital points..."

"........"

Ouyang Ge turned away without a word. "I’ll return in three days. Have the goods ready."

"Will do."

...

..

Only after leaving the game store did Ouyang Ge finally relax.

Adrenaline still buzzed in his veins—his first real fight since rebirth. Training had rebuilt his stamina, but his body felt rough, joints stiff. Beating The Artisan was pure luck; the man had grown rusty from years behind a desk.

*For now... I focus on my body.*

*The Day of Destiny draws near....*