Chapter Seventy-One: Five Million in Grand Wealth!

Half an hour later, Fang Mu returned to his rented apartment. Although he had only been away for a little over ten days, it felt as if an eternity had passed.

Letting out a long breath, Fang Mu walked over to his old light-brain. The device was so dated that it made clacking noises as it booted up, but it was still barely functional. It took more than a minute to start, and once it finally did, he tapped out a few words on the light-sensitive keyboard and began reading carefully.

Time slipped by. After a long while, Fang Mu finally tore his gaze from the screen, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the tabletop as he pondered the information he had just found.

Indeed, how to deal with the Dragon Scale Saber in his possession... He had mulled over the problem the entire way home, unable to come up with a suitable solution, so he decided to check the web for advice.

The one-star battlefield he was currently in was not the only one on Feiluo. Cases like his were actually quite common—after killing someone on the battlefield and taking their spoils, how should one go about disposing of them?

Many people had shared their experiences online—frankly, it was all very practical. He even found contact information for some black market traders operating in his one-star battlefield.

But now he hesitated. These black market dealers all had unusual backgrounds, often backed by the major legions.

That was the crux of the problem—he had no way of knowing which of these dealers were under the control of Greedwolf.

If he ended up selling the saber to a black market trader affiliated with Greedwolf... that would be even less safe than handling it himself in the public marketplace.

At least in the public market, there were plenty of eyes about—even if he was discovered, Greedwolf’s people wouldn’t dare act recklessly.

But if he contacted a black market trader and stepped into their territory... who knew what might happen.

Though the urban battlefield was supposedly governed by strict laws prohibiting slaughter, outside the battlefield, where in the world was truly bound by law? Murders happened every day, after all.

The safety of the battlefield city was only skin deep. In places with no witnesses and no surveillance... if you were killed, that was the end of it.

The law enforcement teams might hunt down the killer, but even if they succeeded—so what? You’d still be dead.

What was more, as Fang Mu saw it, Greedwolf’s influence extended not only to the black market—he likely controlled more black traders than anyone else.

What kind of business did Greedwolf run most often? Wasn’t it murder and theft? And when it came to disposing of loot, even they wanted to avoid trouble.

After all, not everyone they killed was without connections. In such cases, they needed trustworthy black traders to help them handle such matters.

So raising a pack of black market traders made perfect sense.

After much deliberation, Fang Mu finally shook his head. He couldn’t take that risk.

Of course, it would be best if nothing happened... but what if it did?

It wasn’t that Fang Mu was afraid of risk; he simply needed to judge whether it was worth it.

To get rid of a saber, would he risk his own life? That would be sheer stupidity.

“Forget it, I’ll keep the Dragon Scale Saber for now. Selling the guns and such should be enough to get by for the time being.”

In the end, Fang Mu dismissed the idea of immediately dealing with the saber. He would wait and see—right now, the Celestial Court and Greedwolf were locked in fierce battle, and Greedwolf was on the ropes. Given a little more time, Greedwolf might even be wiped out.

It would be much safer to act then, rather than rushing now.

With that thought, Fang Mu stopped obsessing. He took the loot out of his storage gear, then went to the cabinet to fetch his gun cleaning tools...

If he intended to sell these goods, he had to tidy them up a bit—make them look newer to fetch a better price.

This time, he’d acquired five D-series sniper rifles, one E-series sniper rifle, and four D-series large-caliber tactical pistols.

The E-series sniper rifle had belonged to the first man he shot dead. When he’d spotted Chang Le and his group, he’d been in the middle of retrieving this rifle.

Two of the D-series rifles had been destroyed when he killed the two gold-ranked berserkers, so only three remained.

Fang Mu decided to sell one and keep two as spares.

As for the pistols, he’d already sold one at the hospital, leaving three—keeping a single one would suffice.

A D-series sniper rifle would fetch about three million; D-series pistols around two million. If everything sold well, he could net five to six million in total.

Fang Mu’s hands moved quickly as he dismantled the rifles and pistols and began to clean them meticulously.

Half an hour later, the freshly oiled firearms gleamed, and he nodded approvingly.

Wrapping the cleaned and polished guns in oiled paper, he bundled them up and headed out the door.

There was no need to seek out black market traders for these guns; after all, they were far more common than the Dragon Scale Saber and often seen on the market.

Leaving his apartment, he made his way straight to the Information Plaza.

Selling the firearms proved much faster than Fang Mu had imagined.

He rented a stall at the plaza, and within an hour, everything was sold.

The D-series sniper rifle went for a high price of 3.2 million, the E-series sniper rifle fetched a much lower 500,000, and the two D-series pistols sold for 920,000 and 890,000 each.

Seeing the seven-digit balance in his account, starting with a five, Fang Mu couldn’t help but grin. Rising from his seat, he left the plaza and headed for the city center.

The hovercars ran everywhere, reaching every corner of the city.

Half an hour later, Fang Mu arrived in front of a gleaming tower.

The building’s entrance was ablaze with lights, and enormous virtual screens played colorful advertisements, dazzling the eye.

This was the DPSK Mall, one of the largest shopping centers in the battlefield city. It had eight stories, covering tens of thousands of square meters, and was thronged with stylish men and women coming and going—a scene of great prosperity.

No one carried weapons.

In fact, almost no one brought weapons into the heart of the battlefield city—not because it was forbidden, but simply unnecessary.

Who would trudge around every day with a heavy blade or long saber unless heading into battle?

The Information Plaza was near the gates, where people geared up before entering the battlefield.

Normally, the city center here was little different from the downtown of any city outside the battlefield.

This was Fang Mu’s first time at DPSK Mall. The dazzling array of shops and brilliant screen lights overwhelmed him, opening his eyes to a new world.

Though the one-star battlefield revolved around combat, people still knew how to enjoy life in their downtime.

In the past, Fang Mu hadn’t had the money to do more than gaze from afar. Now, with five million in hand, he finally had the confidence to walk right in.

Taking a deep breath, Fang Mu strode forward into the mall.