Li Qinwu dragged Sergeant Rudolph off the cart and slapped him twice.
"Wake up. We're here."
Still groggy, Rudolph barely reacted—until Li Qinwu poured half a canteen of water over his face. That snapped him awake.
His eyes locked onto the distant searchlights.
The PDF defensive line.
Relief surged through him, and he opened his mouth to shout—
Li Qinwu immediately covered it.
"Don't."
His voice was low and sharp.
"Not yet. I'm still here. Shout after I leave."
He had no intention of being caught by the PDF. In a world like this, a scavenger from the lower hive wandering outside without authorization was just another disposable body.
Rudolph swallowed and nodded.
Only then did Li Qinwu release him.
The two locked eyes.
"I owe you my life," Rudolph said hoarsely. "Your name."
Li Qinwu tapped his own face.
"Remember it properly. Li Qinwu—the scavenger."
He paused, then added calmly:
"You owe me. Pay it back when you can."
He turned away, already pulling the cart.
"Count to one hundred before you call out. Don't get me killed."
Without waiting for a reply, he ran.
Fast.
---
Rudolph watched his retreating figure, expression unreadable.
"…Li Qinwu the scavenger…"
Then suddenly—
"Wait—where's my lasgun?!"
---
Li Qinwu didn't stop running until his stamina was nearly drained.
Only then did he collapse briefly, gasping for air—before looking at the weapons piled in the cart.
Four rifles.
One lasgun.
His face lit up.
"Jackpot…!"
He almost laughed out loud.
"This is a feast!"
Humming to himself, he pushed forward toward the extraction point.
---
Before sunrise, he reached a hidden ventilation shaft deep within a forest.
Massive pipes of rusted metal and ceramic-steel stretched into darkness—forgotten infrastructure from the hive city above.
Poorly maintained. Half-collapsed.
And more importantly—accessible.
This was his extraction point.
As soon as he stepped inside, a green countdown appeared in his vision.
10… 9… 8…
When it reached zero—
His body vanished.
---
He reappeared inside a dim, enclosed space deep beneath the hive.
System notifications followed immediately.
---
Extraction Successful
Operation Rating: Outstanding
Total Loot Value: 36,300 credits
Mission Complete
Contact Unlocked: Rudolph
---
Black Market Dealer Sells Guns
The hideout.
For operators, it was sanctuary.
A place to rest, recover, store resources, and manufacture equipment.
The higher its level, the more advanced the items it could produce—firearms, armor, ammunition… even power armor, given enough upgrades.
Right now, however—
Li Qinwu's "hideout" was nothing more than a ruined warehouse in the Underhive.
Over 500 square meters in size, constructed from black steel and ceramic composite. The air was stale, thick with rust. Dim bulbs flickered weakly overhead.
No power grid.
No running water.
Barely livable.
But it was safe.
Completely isolated.
And for Li Qinwu—that was enough.
---
The moment he returned, exhaustion hit him like a hammer.
He tossed his gear into a corner and collapsed onto a worn synthetic mat.
Sleep came instantly.
---
When he woke, it was because of hunger.
His stomach twisted.
"…Damn."
He pushed himself up, his back aching.
"If I keep sleeping on this, I'll break my spine."
He stumbled to a corner and opened a plastic bucket—
Then immediately grimaced.
"…Yeah. I need a toilet."
After forcing down some biscuits and water, he walked back to his equipment pile and picked up a rifle.
Under a dim status lamp, he set up a crude workbench.
This lamp indicated the operational status of the surrounding sector—green meant stable, red meant malfunction. Right now, it glowed faint green.
The workbench itself was system-recognized.
Basic. Level 1.
Manual operation only.
---
He secured the rifle and began filing off its serial markings and Imperial Aquila insignia.
---
Workbench Level 1
Input:
PDF Standard Automatic Rifle ×1
File ×1
Output:
Unmarked Black-Market Rifle ×1
Time Required: 10 minutes
---
The sound of scraping metal echoed through the hideout.
Ten minutes later—
The file snapped.
The markings were gone, replaced with rough abrasion scars.
The rifle was now untraceable.
If he had sold it with Imperial markings intact, its value would have been halved. The authorities occasionally swept through lower levels, and black market dealers avoided unnecessary risk.
Li Qinwu exhaled slowly.
"Too slow… I need better tools."
Upgrading the workbench was becoming a priority.
---
After wrapping the rifle in cloth, he armed himself with a small-caliber pistol and stepped outside.
The heavy iron door shut behind him.
---
Beyond it stretched dark corridors of the Underhive.
Left led toward the surface through ventilation routes.
Right led deeper—into the domain of the lowest strata.
He turned right.
---
The hive city was a vertical world.
The upper spires housed nobles and officials, living among artificial skies.
The mid-levels belonged to workers, soldiers, and merchants—the functioning body of the Imperium.
And below—
The Underhive.
A lawless abyss.
Criminals, outcasts, mutants, and worse things thrived here. Rumors even spoke of warp-tainted entities lurking in the deepest shadows.
This was where Li Qinwu lived.
---
After walking for over thirty minutes, light finally appeared ahead.
A massive open space unfolded.
Factories.
Gangs.
Slaves.
The stench of industrial fertilizer filled the air.
Here, gangs produced materials for the upper levels, trading resources in exchange for survival.
A twisted ecosystem.
---
Two armed guards stopped him.
"Hold it. What are you doing here?"
Li Qinwu calmly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed them over.
Tension eased immediately.
He lit one for himself, then for them.
"I've got goods. For Nepal."
At the mention of that name, the guards stepped aside.
"Go. Don't cause trouble."
Li Qinwu tossed them the rest of the pack and walked in.
---
He entered a ramshackle structure—part shop, part scrapyard.
Metal parts, electronic junk, chemical containers—everything piled together in chaotic order.
Behind the counter stood a gaunt man.
Nepal.
The black market dealer.
"Customer," Nepal rasped. "Buying… or selling?"
Li Qinwu placed the wrapped rifle on the table.
"Selling first."
Nepal's eyes sharpened.
He dismantled the weapon with practiced efficiency, inspecting each component carefully.
Barrel. Rifling. Wear.
After a moment, he spoke.
"PDF standard rifle. Eighty percent condition. Markings removed."
"2700 credits."
Li Qinwu placed a full magazine on the table.
"Include this. I'm buying too. 3400."
Nepal paused, calculating.
"…3200. Spend it here."
Li Qinwu nodded.
"Deal."
---
"What do you need?" Nepal asked.
Li Qinwu didn't hesitate.
"One promethium battery. Two 30-meter power cables. One motor. One angle grinder. Ten bulbs. Fifty sets of screws and nuts. Four steel pipes. One toolbox. Four switches."
Everything needed for upgrading the hideout.
---
As Nepal's men gathered the items, Li Qinwu leaned forward slightly.
"…Do you deal in lasguns?"