Chapter Eighty-Eight: Harvest Time
The silver-gray finish, the thick barrel, the heavy-metal feel; black wrist straps at the muzzle and grip make it easy to carry and can also be tied to the thigh.
Overall length: 457 mm. Barrel length: 266 mm. Height: 165 mm. Empty weight: five jin, about the same as a submachine gun. That alone shows its ferocity and power.
The M500 Magnum revolver, known as the handgun’s heavy artillery, nicknamed the “hand cannon,” blasts enemies head-on with overwhelming firepower.
Though these facts were already etched into his memory, when Wu Hua looked over the stats again, he still could not help drawing in a sharp breath:
Mad Magnum Hand Cannon, Enhanced Edition
Purple-grade equipment
Required level: 25
Required strength: 25
Weight: 2.6 kg
Caliber: 0.5 inches
Capacity: 5
Accuracy: 70.8%
Rate of fire: 0.5 per second
Muzzle energy: 3600 joules + 400 joules
Effective range: 80 meters
Additional attribute: switching to other weapons is 2 seconds faster; reloading is 2 seconds faster.
Even the base model of this gun was not sold in the shopping center. It shared one trait with the Desert Eagle: both used devastatingly powerful AE rounds. But the terrifying force of this M500 was a full twice that of the Desert Eagle: 4000 joules.
Of course, its flaws were just as obvious. Aside from sheer power, everything else about it was poor: short range, slow rate of fire, heavy weight, low accuracy. And most of all, the revolver cylinder held only five rounds, something no gunsmith, however skilled, could ever change. Its reload time was even longer than the time it took a rifle to change magazines. Though the extra attribute improved reload speed, the weapon’s shortcomings were still glaring.
Even so, it remained a treasure among handguns. A single 4000-joule round—hardly anyone could hope to endure such force.
“This gun is for defense. It’s not for offense,” Wu Hua murmured.
Tu Shao and Ri Wan exchanged a grin. “Damn, Brother Feng really is Brother Feng. One look and he sees the problem.”
“Take it. Thirteen thousand credits. Consider it sold to you,” Tu Shao said with a carefree wave.
Wu Hua froze. This gun was absolutely worth far more than that.
“What do you take me for? Keep it.” Wu Hua put the gun away, opened the trade panel, placed his crystal card on it, and requested a trade of fifty thousand credits.
“Go screw yourself,” Tu Shao cursed at once. “I’m giving you this gun because I respect you. If someone gives you something, just accept it. Don’t be petty. Be straightforward and take it, okay?”
Seeing Tu Shao swear so freely, Wu Hua felt warmth in his chest. In a game, to make friends like this—what more was there to say? He stopped being polite and placed the green-grade sword, the Ayat Holy Light Blade, from his backpack into the trade panel.
This time, Tu Shao’s eyes widened to the size of eggs, and his breathing quickened. His expression was like someone who had just seen a naked beauty.
“Allow me to call you my idol,” Tu Shao roared. “You can even get your hands on a sword like this. All I can say is that you’re a genius at gear hunting.”
Tu Shao closed the trade panel and turned to shout at Ri Wan, “Lend me fifty thousand. I’ll pay you back in a few days.”
“What the hell costs that much?” Ri Wan complained.
Tu Shao grew impatient. “I’ve only got twenty thousand on me, and that might not even be enough. So, are you lending it or not, damn it?”
“Go screw yourself. Every time you need money, you come to me. You’ve almost bankrupted me. I’m going to end up borrowing from my big sister every time because of you.” Though grumbling, Ri Wan still transferred the money to Tu Shao.
Tu Shao then sent a trade request for seventy-five thousand credits. “Heh heh, Brother Feng, I’m a little short on cash lately. Take these seventy-thousand-plus credits first. I’ll make up the rest later.”
This time it was Wu Hua’s turn to curse. “I’m giving you this sword because I respect you. If someone gives you something, just accept it. Don’t be petty. Be straightforward and take it, okay?”
Tu Shao refused repeatedly, clearly knowing this sword was an extraordinarily rare prize, worth an enormous sum. After much back-and-forth, Wu Hua still only accepted ten thousand credits, and Tu Shao solemnly promised that if he ever looted a gun-type weapon in the future, it would definitely belong to Wu Hua.
After that, the two of them began arguing.
Tu Shao toyed with the sword, wearing a smug look. “This sword suits me. It was clearly made for me.”
Ri Wan objected, unhappy. “Let me use it first. I’ve got gemstones—I can slot them into the hidden compartments.”
“Get lost. I’ll use it first for a month.”
“Tu Shao, you bastard, are you going to let me use it or not?”
“Nope.”
“Fine. If you won’t let me, I’ll beat the crap out of you.”
“Go on, then.”
“You think I won’t dare?” Ri Wan suddenly punched Tu Shao in the face. Furious, Tu Shao put away the sword and struck back.
The two of them ended up wrestling in a heap on the floor. Of course, Wu Hua could not stop them, and the only ones capable of doing that were the robot police in the general affairs hall.
Two robot policemen slid over and, without a word, clamped the pair in their mechanical jaws:
“Players Tu Shao and Ri Wan are suspected of malicious PvP at the resurrection point in the Dream Star City General Affairs Hall. The central AI system imposes a penalty of 200 credits per person and one hour of detention...”
Wu Hua could not help cursing too. “You bastards, I should’ve sold it to you for hundreds of thousands. Instead I let the system take two hundred for nothing. Are you idiots or what?”
Tu Shao: “...”
Before he could even say farewell to the two of them, a message finally came through on the receiver from Ice Coffee: “Come to the specialty factory!”
Wu Hua let out a long breath. After waiting for a full half month, the time for harvest had finally arrived.
When he reached Monica’s Specialty Factory, Wu Hua saw that the New Reporter was also waiting in the lobby.
“Brother Feng!” New Reporter rose to his feet.
Ice Coffee said coolly, “Miss Monica has been waiting for you upstairs for a long time.”
“We’ll talk later.” Wu Hua patted New Reporter on the shoulder and sprinted up to the second-floor function room.
When he pushed open the door, the sight before him left him stunned. The little-girl-like Master Monica was nowhere to be seen. In her place stood an old woman in a white lab coat before the workbench, her head full of white hair, her face lined with wrinkles—old and ugly.
But after looking more closely at her height and features, Wu Hua cried out, “Master Monica, how did you become like this?”
Ice Coffee, who had followed behind, sighed. “To forge this gun, Miss Monica overworked herself. Her body has already begun to deteriorate.”
Wu Hua was completely speechless.
Yet Monica was still the same as before. She turned and smiled. “Mr. Explosive Madness, welcome once again to my laboratory.”
For some reason, seeing Master Monica with white hair and a face full of wrinkles caused the eagerness he had felt to see the new gun to fade away almost at once. A strange ache rose in his heart.
Monica walked toward him with unsteady steps, gazing at a mural on the wall with a faint smile, a smile filled with nostalgia.
“Master, you...” Wu Hua was puzzled. The mural showed nothing but shattered walls and ruins, as though it were the aftermath of a great war.
Monica’s thoughts seemed to drift back to that era of fire and blood. “Mr. Explosive Madness, do you know how old I am this year?”
Wu Hua shook his head.
“In another month, I’ll be 122.”
“This...” Wu Hua stared in shock, and Ice Coffee, too, was stunned. She was her apprentice, but even she did not know her master’s condition.
Monica let her smile fade. Her gaze rested on the mural as though recalling the past. “A hundred years ago, I was also an apprentice devoted to the study of firearms. Back then, I was like Miss Coffee: young, beautiful, living a carefree life, savoring the bloom of youth, just as you saw me the last time—forever young, forever beautiful.”
Wu Hua and Ice Coffee listened in silence. They knew that next, the master would begin to tell the most important story of her life.