Terra Tinkers Construct is fine.

The topic jumped around quite quickly. He wanted to say that he had to support his family, and he couldn't even support himself, so where would he find the energy to keep pets? But Milan wasn't asking a question; before he could get an answer, she started talking herself:

“You know, Pavel, I have a friend who used to own pets who said this about what it felt like to look at his... well, cloud beast.”

"When you are weak enough, even if you make what you think are fierce and aggressive gestures, others will only find you cute."

“It’s interesting, you know… This isn’t the first time I’ve said this, is it? From the very beginning, I never intended to stay in Chernobog for long.”

Milan paused, then said casually, "It's the same now, do you understand?"

He said "I understand" twice, the implication of which was almost explicit; Pavel was initially surprised and uncertain, but after such a clear hint, he immediately understood.

—Without Milan… what is [Canned Goods]? And what is [Pavel]?

The so-called disaster has not yet struck; at least on the surface, order still exists...

But even now, in this gray area where gangs gather and all sorts of shady characters mingle, what truly carries weight in one's words?

He shut his mouth, understood, and didn't ask any more questions.

After passing through a few more forks, the passage ahead widened slightly, and suspicious figures wearing cloaks and hoods appeared in the dim light of the Originium lamps, setting up stalls casually laid out on the ground.

The sounds of arguing, shouting, and haggling grew clearer and clearer, along with suppressed murmurs of conflict from certain corners, all indicating that this area had entered the so-called "black market."

Pavel also composed himself and dutifully asked, "Sir, what are you looking for?"

"Don't worry about me, go and check on the stall."

Milan didn't answer, but instead squinted and surveyed the various stalls, casually saying, "Looking for Oripathy inhibitors, and whether there are any trading channels for raw ores or the like."

"Raw ore?"

Pavel was taken aback: He could understand wanting Oripathy inhibitors. Blockers were expensive drugs with strict usage conditions, and they were not very useful for the newly infected members. Preparing some emergency inhibitors was the right thing to do.

But raw ore requires specialized equipment and conditions for smelting, and it's mostly early-stage metals... The black market sells all sorts of things, but reselling such simple resources seems to be quite a thankless and laborious task.

"..."

His confusion was obvious, but Milan didn't answer; he just glanced at him.

—I also know the Tathagata Palm technique, do I need to report it to you?

So he stopped investigating and simply noted down the requirements, nodded, and turned to walk into the black market stall.

Milan himself then went for a stroll.

Chernobog is a border town that roams the wilderness, and its black market is quite diverse; indeed, the stalls here usually sell contraband that individuals carry for high profits.

For example, cultural relics, works of art, prohibited resources, purified Originium and processed Originium products... as well as military equipment.

Milan, after some careful selection, also bought several weapons of varying structures.

—A shortbow, a swift sword, and the [Short Scimitar] blueprint obtained from the Ursus Saber analysis...

He discreetly stuffed the generic weapon he'd bought into his inventory, thinking to himself: "Taking it back to analyze should unlock a few more blueprints..."

I wonder if using custom-made arrows from the real game will unlock the [Artisan's Arrows] skill. He's really not used to crossbows, and while the [Longbow] is from the original game, it's a wide-bodied tool, and without an anvil, there's no way he can even make it; as for the katana…

"Where in Ursus would you find alien weapons specifically for military use?" He looked at the Swift Sword, which he had bought with his own money and decorated like a work of art, and the Katana, which the seller had hyped up to the point of exaggeration, and pondered for a moment.

—By the way, did I install the [Tinker's Construct Longsword] mod?

"gentlemen."

Just as he was sketching out the blueprint for the new toy in his mind and calculating how to combine the materials, Pavel, who had disappeared into the black market, returned and whispered, "Sir, the inhibitor has been found. There's a stall further in that seems more reliable than the others."

"It's just that the stall owner... hmm, he's a bit special."

--special?

Milan raised an eyebrow: That's right—he did have the idea of ​​"stockpiling for newly infected people" in his search for Oripathy inhibitors, but in addition, he also had a secondary goal of trying his luck.

Did he really get lucky on his first try?

"Lead the way, let's go take a look."

He followed Pavel through the bustling crowd and stopped at a spot that wasn't exactly remote, but somehow suddenly felt quiet. The stalls here were relatively sparse, there were few vendors and few customers—even when there were customers, they were all bundled up, silent and didn't haggle, but instead found familiar vendors, made their transactions, and left.

It's clear that while vendors in other areas might occasionally encounter infected individuals, this area is specifically designated for trading with infected individuals.

Most of the vendors here are dressed in a way that hides their identities.

There was only one seat, behind a simple wooden counter, where an elderly man sat without any attempt to conceal himself.

The elderly Liboli man, whose distinctive ear feathers are a racial feature, is impeccably dressed and has a meticulous appearance.

He was indeed Liboli, but his tall stature and composed demeanor were particularly outstanding, and he was in no way inferior to the Ursus people; the years had etched their marks on his face, his hair, which had faded from his ears, was neatly combed, and he wore a wide cloak, but his eyes were both sharp and calm.

On the counter in front of him were open storage boxes containing medicine bottles and other medications, all with clear handwritten labels... Clearly, they came from a rather professional pharmacy.

"..."

In a sense, just as his presence in the area was particularly striking, the appearance of a stranger was quite out of place—the surrounding vendors all seemed wary, and the old man naturally noticed Pavel's return and the people he brought.

He was certainly aware of Milan's gaze.

He was certain that Milan was looking at him, just as he was certain that Milan's gaze carried a strange familiarity and understanding, as if they were not strangers to him—but he was quite certain that he probably did not know this young man in his past career.

Compared to the Ursus people, who were modeled after Tsarist Russia, Milan's appearance still shows quite obvious characteristics of the Yan state.

Just as he had guessed, Milan glanced around briefly before walking straight toward him; the old man stretched and stood up, asking steadily, "What do you need?"

"Inhibitor?"

Milan glanced at the various labels on the medicines and thought for a moment: "I'll take both the emergency medication and the wound medicine."

The old man raised an eyebrow and looked directly at Milan's face—the combination of the two was indeed a bit strange, with the young foreigner appearing to be the leader and the local Ursus man seemingly acting as a follower—however, he didn't say much, and Milan didn't say much either, only responding with a smile.

So he nodded and began to skillfully check the packaging; it was rare to find such a decisive customer among the infected population. Milan took out his Ursus gold coins, and the transaction was completed very quickly.

However, Milan did not leave immediately after the transaction was completed; the old man also did not plan to return. What came next was probably the real business, and he already had some guesses about it.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, a business deal can be quite complicated."

As expected, after he spoke, the young man, who didn't seem to have any obvious racial characteristics, said this.

However, to his surprise, he saw Milan lean forward and lower his voice.

"May I have a word with you in private, General?"

Even with experience, the feeling of time and space being displaced when the characters in the game appear vividly before his eyes is still wonderful, as if reminding him of his feelings about this world; and unlike back then with Frostnova and Patriot, even if the two are very popular among players, they are genuinely opposing factions in the game.

But the person in front of him, this man, this old man, was different... To Milan, he was practically one of his own. Even though this was their first real meeting, and Milan knew they were strangers, he couldn't help but feel a habitual trust and friendliness.

...Hmm, does that sound a bit gay? (laughs)

But the other party didn't know that, as a player who had pre-registered for the closed beta test, he genuinely felt like he had known the other party for six years.

Hrag, an Ursus, of the Liberi race, was formerly a member of the Ursus Imperial Guard and is the current manager of "Azazel," an underground clinic for infected people in Chernobog. He is also a six-star Guard operator in the game, implemented in September 2019. He is one of the few operators who was already in Chernobog before the main story of the game began.

He believed that it was an assistance that could be "won over".

As for exploitation... why put it so harshly? It's a win-win situation, how can it be considered one-sided exploitation?

“I have been out of the military for many years and am no longer worthy of this title. Perhaps no one has called me that for a long time.”

Under Pavel's almost horrified gaze, Hrag, who had led the way to a secluded corner, glanced at him before turning his attention to Milan and said in a deep voice, "Besides, I don't remember ever seeing a young man from Yan like you before."

"You...recognize me?"

Chapter 61 - Helag

"If the question were asked by a general from the Ursus Empire's Imperial Guard, the weight of this question might be too much for an unknown person like me to bear."

"But if the question is only being asked by the current Director Hrag, is it important?"

Milan smiled easily.

His nerves had been on edge for a long time.

Since his transmigration, including the time he stayed with the Yeti team: all his actions appeared calm and composed, but in reality, he was secretly filled with suppressed urgency and solemnity; he was not some chosen one from the other world, but instead possessed invincible power that gave him enough confidence to deal with any situation and also provided him with a sense of security to carry on his life in the other world.

If Milan had the backing of a Minecraft world where he could resurrect infinitely, he would have already started causing trouble on the snowfield: to be willing to sacrifice oneself for great things, and to forget righteousness for petty gains, is not the mark of a hero.

He didn't consider himself a hero.

But when everything has a safety net, who can resist trying something new?

Let's do something big! As for the script... what script? To hell with the script!

It's not like we're in some isolated, post-apocalyptic city next door, where we have Minecraft's ultimate productivity and shelter as our trump cards. What's there to be cowardly about? Anyone who's a coward is a coward!

But he didn't.

So the paranoia and fear of insufficient firepower inherited in his bones and blood instantly became dominant - until he left the Yeti team, returned to the embrace of civilization, truly realized his strength to protect himself while blowing up the fish pond... and after the heavy metal armor was actually put on his body.

Only then did he accumulate some sense of security that allowed him to calm his mind and heart.

And now.

Seeing the familiar operators from the game in person reminded me once again of the time, energy, and emotions I had invested in the theater of "this land," and even the fantasies that seemed unattainable to me as a player were now right before my eyes.

...Well, the cost was indeed quite high.

But no matter how sentimental it may seem, the idea of ​​"since we're here, let's make the best of it" has become a reality, an acceptable reality. So... even if it's just one-sided nostalgia, if the other person is someone you consider "one of us," it's okay to relax a little, right?

—To be honest, the first person I met wasn't some beautiful Russian bear girl, but a grumpy old man, which was a bit disappointing.

"...You're right, there are no more generals here."

Milan's thoughts raced through his mind like a herd of alpacas, but on the surface his expression remained calm. After a moment of silence, Hrag simply gave a self-deprecating laugh.

"Then let's be frank and speak openly."

The former general, who had spent many years in the military, asked with a scrutinizing gaze, "What kind of deal are you seeking, young man?"

"No rush, I've already bought all of Azazel's goods. The old man shouldn't be too short of time, right?"

Milan smiled, but instead of bringing up the deal, he steered the conversation in another direction: "Consider it a bonus. Before we talk business, let me tell you something."

"Chernobog, in about a month, will be wiped off the map; the method is natural disaster, the cause is man-made disaster, the emperor is unaware of the situation, the great nobles tacitly approve, and the Third Army stands idly by."

"The disaster itself is just the prelude to another dark affair, and who cares about the people?"

He spoke casually, making no mention of the Reunion Movement or the deeper conspiracy, because there was no need to at the moment; however, Hrag's pupils contracted slightly, and even someone as composed as him couldn't help but be shaken by such a certain and terrifying prophecy.

But he neither believed nor questioned it. Instead, he pondered for a moment as if weighing his options, and then his voice lowered.

"A shocking piece of news, alleging the destruction of a mobile city... This is not information that is easy to believe."

"It's okay, I didn't expect to gain your trust directly anyway."

Milan was still smiling, but when he got to this point, the warmth in his smile became visibly cold: "Azazel has been operating in Chernobog for a long time and naturally has his own intelligence channels. I will only provide the information; you will go back and do the specific verification yourself."

"For example, the deployment of the surveillance troops, the movements of the upper-class nobles, and the activity of the infected, etc..."

Hrag's gaze sharpened. He was an extraordinary Liberi with divine blood, and his gaze, when focused, possessed a sense of oppression surpassing even that of raptors and eagles. As the former leader of Ursus, his sensitivity was naturally extraordinary, but after a long period of seclusion, he had become somewhat dulled due to the lack of need to be on edge.

Milan's words touched on a subtle anomaly he was aware of, something he hadn't thought much about until now, when he connected the dots and instinctively sensed something unusual.

Tell me all this, what do you want?

A flicker of wariness and deep thought crossed Hrag's eyes, before settling into silence; he gazed into Milan's eyes, trying to discern the young man's inner thoughts—but Milan made no attempt to conceal his feelings, speaking directly:

"You may not believe it, but all I'm after is a normal transaction. Of course, there might be some intention to cooperate, but that's irrelevant. You know Azazel's situation better than I do. If my information is true, you'll be the first to benefit from it. Verifying it won't cost you anything, even if I'm just exaggerating."

They spread their hands and continued, "Back to the trade, I can provide cheap and healthy fresh ingredients, which should be enough to trade for a stable supply of medicines; of course, short-term medical cooperation would be even better, but I don't think the old man would trust my unclear and dubious influence."

Hrag fell silent: As mentioned before, even if Chernobog was a border city, it was still within the embrace of civilization, so food was never a problem—but Azazel was different. It was an underground clinic that took in infected people, sheltered infected people, and even children.

The drugs and medical services they can provide are already limited, not to mention the difficulties in procuring supplies—as the old saying goes, not everyone is willing to do business with infected people, especially in Ursus.

Therefore, the price offered by Milan was so basic that he found it difficult to refuse.

"Oh, by the way, by the way."

Just as the old general was pondering, Milan seemed to suddenly remember something and said, "I just raided an underground infected persecution den and took in more than twenty people... Hmm, the infected's activities may be more closely monitored these days. If this causes any trouble, please forgive me, General."

Helag: "..."

The old general, who was still troubled by the series of major news and transaction details, suddenly couldn't hold back his expression.

He looked at Milan, unable to maintain his sharp gaze any longer; while Milan remained nonchalant, smiling as if he had just casually said something unremarkable.

"...Young man, do you really understand what you just said?"

Herag wasn't blaming Milan for his actions. He had been an infected person for some years and naturally knew about the underground industry in the city that persecuted infected people—it wasn't exactly shady, it was a completely pure black industry.