Curse Reply: I'm going to fight the Myriad Corpse Immortal, the highest level one!

Is Xia Jie still a good boy?

Yes.

Although he is going to get three big lightning tattoos on the back of his right hand, he still thinks he is a good boy.

A good boy, as the name suggests, must first and foremost be good.

Without a doubt, Xia Jie is a good Xia Jie.

Secondly, it must be a boy.

Although he is billions of years old if you include his sleep time, it is well known that a man is a boy until he dies.

So, all things considered, Xia Jie is a good boy who is eighteen years and five hundred billion months old.

……

The sunshine in Xueyuan City was more generous than I had imagined.

The wind stirred up by the traffic swept through the streets, carrying a faint smell of exhaust fumes. Garbage bags on the ground were crushed by the wheels and then blown up by the wind, swirling on the ground.

The architectural styles on both sides of the street are mixed.

To the left is a Mexican taco shop with bright yellow exterior walls. Two neon tubes on the sign are missing, forming a broken "TACO".

To the right is a gray brick building with a faded American flag hanging in the second-floor window, its corners flapping in the wind; a few steps further ahead, you can see the iconic manhole cover on the road.

The edges of the cast iron manhole cover were polished shiny by the wheels.

Xia Jie walked leisurely on the sidewalk, her pace neither fast nor slow.

He had just passed a homeless encampment, where tents were pitched inside an abandoned building covered in graffiti, pieced together from blue tarpaulins and cardboard, with several supermarket shopping carts piled up next to them, filled with cans and old clothes.

Two young Black men, dressed in oversized hoodies and jeans, were sitting on the edge of the camp, squatting on the steps and scrolling through their phones. Next to them was an open backpack, revealing several unopened bags of potato chips and energy drinks.

One of them looked up at Xia Jie, then looked down again and continued scrolling through his phone.

The other person took out an unopened bottle of Coke from their backpack and held it up in Xia Jie's direction.

Xia Jie shook her head to indicate that she didn't need it and walked out of the abandoned building.

He originally planned to give away the overly sweet donuts and iced cola to people in need, but now it seems that black guys really do have some racial advantages.

After walking two blocks, he heard a commotion behind him.

Looking back, I saw several people carrying gray backpacks walking quickly out of a convenience store. The handles of the backpacks had turned their fingers black from the pressure.

After all, black fingers can't be whitened by binding.

The convenience store clerk chased after them to the door, but upon seeing the number of people on the other end, he retreated and started making phone calls behind the counter.

Xia Jie turned his head back and continued on his way.

Xia Jie's goal is to open a home building materials store on a street corner, with a small storefront and a cutting machine and a few bags of cement samples displayed in the window.

"bite--"

The bell on the door frame rang once as I pushed the door open.

The air in the store smelled of wood and plastic, which wasn't very pleasant.

The shelves were arranged very close together, and the floor was gray cement without tiles, with a few light-colored water stains remaining, as if the floor had been mopped not long ago.

Behind the counter sat a fat man, about fifty years old, with a stubble beard, and a T-shirt with a cat and mouse printed on the chest.

The fat man was typing on his phone with his head down, his fingers flying across the keyboard. His neck and face were flushed red, clearly indicating that he was very angry.

This was the first time Xia Jie had ever seen someone's face turn red all the way up to their neck.

The light from the phone screen shone on the fat man's face, illuminating his downturned mouth.

Xia Jie walked up to the counter and spoke in fluent American English:

"Hey bro, do you sell red paint here?"

"Can't you see for yourself...!"

The store manager looked up at the sound, and his agitated words stopped abruptly.

Wow, what a handsome young man!

His eyes still held lingering irritation, but the moment his gaze fell on Xia Jie's face, that irritation was instantly soothed by the astonishing charm that remained after her transformation into a mortal.

His eyes flickered, as if he had remembered something, then he relaxed his brow, turned off his phone, and put it back in his pocket.

"Yes." He stood up, his voice much gentler than before. "Come with me."

He led Xia Jie through two rows of shelves to the area where paint was stored.

The paint buckets on the shelf are arranged by color, from light to dark, from white to black, with various shades of red in the middle row.

From pink to dark red, it filled an entire floor.

The smell of paint in the air became more pronounced, slightly pungent, but the portly shop manager breathed normally, clearly already used to it.

"Where will you use it? How much do you need?" the store manager asked.

"ground."

Xia Jie glanced at the paint buckets of different sizes.

"I don't have high requirements, as long as it's red. The quantity isn't large either, a small bucket of one gallon is more than enough."

In fact, Xia Jie is capable of painting by hand.

As the source, he can create anything that aligns with his worldview with love; his current purchase is merely out of interest.

The store manager bent down and picked up a bucket of basic red paint from the bottom shelf. The bucket had the brand name and a "Gloss Red" label printed on it.

He patted the lid of the bucket to shake off the dust and handed it to Xia Jie.

"Here, it's a gift for you."

Xia Jie took the paint bucket, looking somewhat surprised: "You don't have to pay?"

"You seem very friendly."

The store manager smiled.

"If my son hadn't joined the LGBT movement, he'd probably be about your age now."

It is well known that trans women generally do not live long.

"..."

Xia Jie paused for a second, then smiled and said, "Okay, good luck."

He picked up the paint bucket, grabbed a brush from the shelf next to him, thanked them, and turned to leave the building materials store.

His blessing was not empty words.

From now on, this chubby shop manager's luck will never be less than "lucky".

He can find money on the street, and as long as he doesn't do anything reckless, he won't get sick. Major and minor disasters will automatically avoid him.

He probably wouldn't realize what happened, but a life where everything goes smoothly will put him in a good mood.

Of course, the red-hot atmosphere brought about by online battles doesn't count.

When Xia Jie walked out of the building materials store, she was carrying red paint in her left hand and a brush in her right.

He stuffed the brush into his pocket, turned the corner, and headed toward the gun shop a street away.

The mornings in Xueyuan City are both lazy and noisy.

According to the nonsense literature, there weren't many people on the street, but there weren't few either.

A teenager wearing a hoodie skateboarded across the sidewalk, while a woman pushing a stroller waited at the intersection for the light to turn red.

Two pigeons were pecking at the same pizza crust at the edge of a trash can.

The stench of the sewers mingled with the artificial flavorings of food, and occasionally a whiff of gambling wafted out of an apartment building window on the wind.

At this moment, Xia Jie expressed deep sympathy for Superman, who possessed superhuman senses.

Ordinary person: Wow, will this street ever get any better?

Superman: Wow, this city is a pile of shit.

The gun shop is located in a two-story gray-white building, with a conspicuous sign hanging at the entrance, featuring a silhouette of a rifle and the words "Arms & Ammo" below.

The glass door is frosted, so you can't see inside. There's only a piece of paper at waist level with the words "Not for children" printed on it.

Xia Jie pushed open the door and went inside.

The indoor lighting was predominantly white, and the floor was covered with a dark carpet that made no sound when stepped on.

The walls on both sides were covered with all kinds of firearms, from pistols to rifles, from shotguns to tactical models, arranged in neat rows, each one polished to a shine.

They are all the product of the wisdom of the terrifying upright ape. Ten thousand years ago, they threw large stones with their hands. Now, they throw small stones with gunpowder and tubes. You know what I mean?

The counter was made of glass, and inside were pistols and bullets, with magazines of different calibers stacked in neat squares.

There was a faint smell of gun oil in the air, mixed with the cold, hard metallic scent.

As we all know, in the free nation of America, shootings happen every day.

Getting a gun here isn't difficult; you might even see the quiet classmate whose MP3 and MP4 players were stolen by the school bully silently pull out an MP5 player the next day.

American bullying vs. American Iaido: A true classroom of meritocracy.

Behind the counter sat a man wearing sunglasses, who looked to be around forty years old. He had a buzz cut, a faint scar on his chin, and was wearing a dark gray polo shirt.

The man in sunglasses had clearly defined muscles, and he wore a pendant that could be opened on his chest. According to movie tropes, the pendant should contain photos of his wife and children.

Xia Jie walked to the counter and tapped on the glass.

"Hey bro, give me a free gun and some free bullets."

One look at Ding Zhen and he knew that these words were pure nitpicking.

Although Xia Jie does not have American citizenship, does not intend to forge documents, and is even penniless, he believes in the charm he retains even after his transformation into an ordinary person.

So he had to make a show of it.

Just like how the Emperor went to the Warp to create the Primarch by hand.

The man in sunglasses looked up, his eyes narrowing behind the sunglasses. His lips moved, and the first syllable burst from his throat with obvious anger: "You—"

Then he saw Xia Jie's face.

Wow, what a handsome guy.

Favorability +100.

The breathy sound took a detour in the throat, transforming into a completely different sentence, its tone as gentle as if someone had blocked its way:

"...Okay, bro, what kind of gun do you want?"

Heaven help him, he wanted to give the other person a good scolding, but the other person looked so kind, as if he really was his good buddy who had grown up with him and had saved his life on the battlefield.

Since the other party already calls him brother, what else is there to say? Just give him whatever he wants.

He took off his sunglasses, revealing his eyes, and Xia Jie's perfect reflection was mirrored in his deep brown pupils.

He placed his sunglasses on the counter, turned around, and took a Glock from the shelf behind him.

"9 millimeters."

He placed the pistol on the counter and pushed it towards Xia Jie: "17-round magazine, do you want a holster?"

"Need not."

Xia Jie picked up the gun and weighed it in her hand: "This one will do."

Lao Xia is very strong, but he wondered if he could use gun-fu to give his enemies acute heavy metal poisoning if he wanted to pretend to be a weak Master. So he came.

The man in sunglasses watched him put the gun in his pocket, opened his mouth as if to ask something, but then swallowed his words back.

There must be a reason why his brother wanted the gun; he trusted his brother.

"Then I'm off. Good luck."

Xia Jie waved her hand and walked out of the gun shop.