Cyber ​​Sword Immortal Iron Rain

Fang Bailu was trying to overcome the daytime sleepiness when he heard a noise of engine revving mixed with brakes coming from outside the glass door. He twitched his ears unconsciously: the loud folk music was coming from the microphone in the store.

He knew an acquaintance who particularly liked this kind of song -

"Lao Fang, Lao Fang!"

KC pushed open the glass door with her big belly that looked like she was pregnant for the entire month and squeezed into Fang’s Hardware Store.

"It's him indeed."

He held a person tightly in his arms, which were thick, soft, and had layers of fat overlapping each other, making him look like he was kidnapping someone.

"Come to think of it, KC looks a bit like a black version of the 'Michelin Man.'" Looking at the fat shaking on KC's body brought back Fang Bailu's memories.

As KC walked in, the hardware store was inexplicably filled with the smell of cigarettes - it seemed to be coming from the people he brought with him.

At the beginning of the night, Fang Bailu did mention to him that he wanted KC to keep an eye out for some newcomers with strong skills, as he wanted to hire them to work in the store.

But I didn’t expect that within a few hours, KC found someone from somewhere.

"Lao Fang! Brother is here to see you. This is my distant cousin who just arrived in the country. His name is... Sorry, what is your name?"

Fang Bailu could smell the alcohol coming out of KC's mouth through several rows of shelves - it seemed like he had just come out of a tavern.

KC certainly didn't have any distant cousins ​​who had sneaked in from other places. As a frequent visitor to wine shops and teahouses, KC had a wide range of friends. He often made friends with new rangers and swordsmen.

Distant cousin is a two-way code - it can not only make the people he brought in feel a favor, but also show Fang Bailu the approximate level of the person he "tricked". Usually he just said "fellow villager", but this time it became "distant cousin": most likely he met a potential talent who can be taught.

"If KC recommends it, I might give it a try..."

Although KC is a black man who looks a bit overweight, he is actually very thoughtful. Those careless and physiologically forgetful "peddlers" have long been eliminated. In addition, he spends all his money in wine shops and teahouses, so his most relied-upon weapon is his meticulous observation and judgment.

In the past, when he had found a suitable candidate on the street, he would make a list and prepare an evaluation document and send it to Fang Bailu for careful selection, but this time he just brought him over directly.

"Either he's a powerful person, or he's a big trouble."

Fang Bailu rested her elbows on the counter and carefully looked at the "distant cousin" KC was hugging affectionately:

Judging from his exposed features, his age was between a teenager and a young adult - about 16 or 17 years old. Young people like him who were still in adolescence were generally not suitable for transformation and implantation - it would affect their physical development and the gains would outweigh the losses.

But Fang Bailu could notice that he had undergone two major reconstruction surgeries: his right hand was amputated from the forearm down and replaced with a "gripper" - a general term for prosthetic limbs designed to manipulate cold weapons. Whether it was a sword, a spear, a halberd, an axe, a hook or a fork, it could be used to grasp it more stably and with greater explosive power.

Judging from the threads and circuits all over the ring-like "palm", this young man was probably practicing some kind of light martial arts.

"Don't you have much social experience? With this prosthetic limb exposed, people can tell your true identity at a glance."

The narrow scabbard was pinned to his waist, and the modified prosthetic limb was placed diagonally on the hilt. Fang Bailu could see that this was an impact-activated scabbard - the jet booster would greatly increase the speed of drawing the sword.

No wonder the hands have to be transformed into "grippers", as the bare hands simply cannot control the acceleration caused by high-speed unsheathing.

Compared to the relatively common prosthetic limbs, the respirator occupying the lower half of his face is much more peculiar:

The respirator's cover blocked the nose and the bridge of the nose, and the sides extended all the way to the temples. Judging from the undulations, this removed part of the epidermis and the bite muscles, and was directly embedded in the facial bones. The surface of the respirator was covered with layers of paint, and it looked like it had been there for some time. The paint had even peeled off.

Its appearance is quite peculiar - the filter tank and the entrance and exit are carved into the shape of ferocious fangs. With each rough and short exhalation, two puffs of light blue mist are sprayed to the left and right from the crooked "gaps between the teeth" of the respirator - at a glance, it really looks like a lifelike evil ghost.

Judging from the color of the exhaled gas, this respirator is not used to filter the air, and the strong smell of tobacco is coming from this young man.

Fang Bailu scratched his nose: This pungent smell made him feel a little uncomfortable.

"What type of respirator is this? I've never seen one on the market. What's the gas coming out of it? Stimulants? Or something else?"

There was still a bit of youthfulness in his eyes, with clear black and white. The whites of his eyes without much bloodshot showed that he had not taken any drugs or become addicted to electronic ecstasy.

The areas around the eye sockets were tattooed with light black dots of ink - some kind of permanent eye shadow.

This old-fashioned and low-key tattoo and plain and ordinary clothes are not popular among the young people in the city. Could it be that -

"Desolate man?"

Few of these tribal residents who make a living in the wilderness come into the city.

Previously, there were garbage men who sold scraps from barbarians to Fang Bailu. The brave ones among the barbarians would enter the "dead cities" - those fully automated cities that had stopped using the "power outage" - to look for valuable items. Among them, those mobile ancestral tombs that were smoking could not only escape unscathed, but also get some good things from the old world.

If you think about it this way, the respirator embedded in the face of this young man might be a relic - judging from the equipment on his body, it is likely that one of his direct blood relatives entered the dead city. It is said that the barbarians will treat the excavated prosthetic limbs as heirlooms and pass them down from generation to generation. The relics in the hands of these "country bumpkins who entered the city" are generally really useful and good things.

Fang Bailu narrowed his eyes: He wanted to remove this implant, whose use he didn't know, and take a closer look.

Chapter 75: Messenger (Part )

The young man didn't seem to have any intention of introducing himself. He stretched his arms out to the sides, squeezing out KC's fat, pretentiously affectionate arms, and straightened his body:

"Are you the owner of this store?"

The respirator on his mouth seemed to have the function of automatically adjusting the pitch, and his voice sounded inhumanly smooth. Bai Lu's plan to judge his age by his voice was in vain.

Fang Bailu nodded: But this sharp tone reveals a kind of rebelliousness that is unique to young people.

The prosthetic legs moved and turned itself around on the stool to face the young man.

The young man's unmodified left hand passed through the light blue air mass he had exhaled, and pointed at KC with his thumb:

"I'm not the fat guy's cousin." He then pointed his index finger at Fang Bailu frivolously, "I just heard that your shop pays well, so I wanted to come over and do some work."

"Hey! Another brat like this."

Fang Bailu felt a little annoyed when he saw this kind of child:

Every year there are a few young people who have just made a name for themselves on the streets. They may have just won the lottery to try out a new type of boxing, or been tricked into undergoing an experimental transformation surgery but luckily survived, or like the young man in front of him, they may have some good stuff passed down from their family.

Then, in some drunken fight in a tavern or teahouse, they might get lucky and defeat some boastful king with mediocre kung fu, and then their tails would be up in the sky.

KC frowned and nodded slightly, moving his mouth up and down exaggeratedly towards Fang Bailu:

"He's a pretty cool guy."

Fang Bailu saw the shape of his lips and felt a little curious: KC had traveled a lot in Kuala Lumpur and had met many powerful people. Although most of his memories were erased by the chip in his brain, Fang Bailu still believed what he said.

"You look very energetic, little brother! What kind of work are you good at? Please introduce yourself."

Fang Bailu looked at him with interest.

The young man tapped the hilt of the sword with his "gripper", producing a crisp sound of metal clashing:

"My name is 'Arata'. Just know that after you hire me, no one in Arata Street will dare to touch you."

"It's a Japanese name... I guess I'm the descendant of a stowaway who was stranded in the wilderness. No, no one touches me in Aro Street..."

In fact, the most important thing about hiring a swordsman ranger is the cost-effectiveness. With Fang Bailu's eyesight, he can evaluate the value of a swordsman ranger's whole body transformation with a brief observation. Only those experienced swordsmen know how to spend the "money" invested in themselves to get 120% effect.

You have to try it to find out whether you really have the ability.

Fang Bailu clapped his hands and said in an exaggerated tone: "Great! You are so arrogant! I wonder what your expected salary is?"

"Xin" seemed not to hear the mockery in Fang Bailu's mouth and raised an index finger in front of his eyes.

"One dollar a month? Ten dollars a month? I can't afford a hundred dollars a month."

"Xin" shook his head, and a tuned human voice came out of the respirator, which was somewhat similar to singing:

"Half the income."

"…You might as well give me a slap and say 50%…"

Fang Bailu stared at the pair of clear black and white eyes for a while - there was no arrogance in the eyes of this "new" person, but instead there was a kind of frankness of speaking the truth.

He scratched his chin: I wonder how good my kung fu is.

"What we are doing here is an interview. An interview requires a 'test'..." Fang Bailu said with a light emphasis, "How about this, you show me two moves. If you can hurt me, I will hire you."

Compared with reckless violence, Fang Bailu appreciates those who know how to control and use their own strength.

After all, in terms of destructive power alone, the power he has at hand is more than enough: he needs this young man "Xin" to have strong adaptability and be able to assist him in dealing with unknown dangers in the future - at least he should be able to stand on his own and not cause trouble for the store.

Fang’s Hardware Store has always been a “dangerous place” - this was not a term Fang Bailu gave himself, but a consensus in the underground network of A Luo Street.

If he can threaten me amidst the numerous traps in the store, then his strength is——

call!

Fang Bailu was just thinking halfway when he suddenly saw a billowing column of smoke coming out of the respirator that was carved into ferocious fangs. In an instant, Fang Bailu's counter was shrouded in thick green mist.

The young man's figure was obscured by the smoke.

"Ah, so we're starting now? Not bad, not so rigid."

"Young man, keep working hard."

Fang Bailu nodded gently, took out a smoke-blocking mask with his left hand, and knocked on the counter with his right fist.

With this knock, the alloy table top bounced diagonally upward like a mousetrap that had been triggered, and a two-meter-long and wide wall separated him from the smoke.

"Hmm, is this just a trick? Or does this smoke enhance physical strength or something?"

Fang Bailu put on the mask and folded his arms: This tactic is very common - divert the enemy's attention first, then launch an offensive. When he saw the respirator that could spit out smoke, he thought that he might use this tactic. So he quickly put on the mask - what if there is some poisonous gas in the smoke, wouldn't it be troublesome?

The thick smoke that filled the small store began to stir violently, and a golden-red spark lit up from the center of the green smoke.

Buzz buzz buzz——

With a short buzz, a vortex-like pattern suddenly appeared in the center of the thick fog - something was spinning at high speed in it, stirring up the air flow with a hissing sound.

A "sword tip" emerged from the turquoise mist vortex: it was a sharp cone-shaped drill bit that was spinning violently. The powerful boost from the jet scabbard and the terrifying rotation made a terrifying sound.

"Xin" drew his sword.

The mist slid across his robe like flowing sand—

He stepped forward with his right foot, taking a horse stance. The arm that had been transformed into a "gripper" was equipped with a joint axis that could move over a wide range of motion. Through the fine thread connection, it rotated together with the sword in his hand, tapping the smooth and hard surface of the alloy cabinet.

Zizizi!

Clusters of golden-red sparks burst out from the point where the sword tip hit the alloy cabinet panel, burning small holes in the plastic film covering the surrounding shelves.

"The destructive power seems to be OK?"

Fang Bailu looked through the shooting hole specially left on the alloy cabinet panel and noticed the surprise conveyed in "Xin"'s raised eyebrows - it seemed that he didn't expect that his tactics could be seen through so easily.

He scratched the tip of his nose and wanted to laugh: These young and frivolous kids are just like this, they think too highly of themselves - Fang Bailu himself also likes to use this tactic very much.

When Fang Bailu was lamenting the hardships that society had brought upon him, something strange happened -

"Xin" took out a palm-length cylinder from his arms with one hand and hooked the pull ring on it with his index finger.

"oh?!"

Fang Bailu couldn't help but stretch his neck and stare at the cylinder in his hand: it was a "Night Pearl" flash bomb.

"Xin" gently threw the flash bomb, letting it fly in an arc over the vertical alloy cabinet board -

"Good boy, not bad."

Fang Bailu suddenly understood why KC admired this young man: he knew how to adapt to changing circumstances and even brought his own auxiliary weapons. He was not like those straightforward barbarians at all.

There was a hint of pride in Xin's eyes, and he immediately closed his eyes to avoid the approaching bright light: "Can you dodge this move?"

The "Night Pearl" flash bomb flew over the alloy cabinet and was about to land on Fang Bailu's head.

flutter!

A baseball cap suddenly flew out from the side, covering the flash bomb in mid-air and flew to the back of the shelf.

The bald head of the prosthesis was exposed to the air—Fang Bailu's neural electrode was connected. Although one leg was still in a faulty state, the throwing force of its upper body was extremely accurate, so it was no problem to deal with a small flash bomb.

As the "Night Pearl" exploded in the corner of the store, "Xin" slashed out with a sword horizontally -

This time he aimed at the cabinet of the counter.

"Huh! You react pretty quickly."

Although there is a layer of high-strength alloy bulletproof cabinet panel that can bounce up to serve as a shelter, the cabinet body is not made of such a hard material - it is too expensive and Fang Bailu cannot afford it.

Especially the joints: where the excitation device is installed, it is even more fragile.

With a teeth-grinding cutting sound, the alloy cabinet panel without a supporting mechanism fell down: Fang Bailu was once again exposed to the "new" attack range.

"Xin" stretched out his left foot and touched the ground, and slightly bent his right leg. He extended his limbs in a stabbing posture and pointed the tip of the high-speed rotating sword towards Fang Bailu's chest.

Fang Bailu could see that the young man wanted to stop the tip of the sword right at his vital points.

"Quite good at pretending, huh?"

But today Fang Bailu was not going to let the boy release his middle school mentality to his heart's content: this little brother was a promising talent, but his asking price was too high.

We have to lower the price to dampen his enthusiasm.