Waste?

“Let’s see here—”

In the woods just outside the city, vibrant branches and leaves fluttered softly in the breeze, blissfully unaware of the chaos about to descend upon them.

Crafting a proper firearm wasn’t something you could just talk into existence.

It demanded intense technical precision and the finest of materials.

Even the slightest misstep could result in a misfire—or worse, a barrel explosion.

That was the last thing Sui Ming wanted to see.

During his trip to collect materials, he’d picked up a few new pieces of information about this world.

Apparently… magic was real?

As ridiculous as that sounded, it was a fact he couldn’t ignore.

Back in the 21st century, Sui Ming had been a top-tier assassin—not some nerd who dabbled in fantasy roleplay.

He was a staunch materialist who believed in physics above all else.

Magic? Might as well dig up Newton and slap him in the face. At least that would make some scientific sense.

“Well… whatever. Let’s focus on the task at hand first.”

Sui Ming grabbed a chunk of orange-yellow mineral and cautiously fed it into a grinding device.

For anyone else, handling such volatile material would’ve required full-body protection gear.

But not for this guy.

Seriously—who in their right mind hand-grinds explosives?

But for someone like Sui Ming, who’d survived just about every life-or-death scenario imaginable, this was relatively tame.

Back in his previous life, he could land a kill shot from two kilometers away without so much as a twitch.

So what was a little powder grinding?

He poured the finely ground Flame Stone into a set of brass casings, fitted them with bullets, and sealed them up.

Rough as they looked, he’d managed to produce something close to bullets.

Sui Ming picked one up, eyeing it under the fading light.

Then, pulling out a silver needle-like device from his pocket, he—

“Bang!”

“Cough cough… Damn it.”

“Who the hell let an assassin dabble in ammunition-making? Whose brilliant idea was that?!”

Oh right.

His own.

Wiping the soot from his face, Sui Ming let out a long sigh.

“Yeah… firearms might be a bit too advanced for this world.
At least for now.”

The setting sun cast its final rays across the landscape, glinting in his eyes.

The boy stood silent, bathed in the dim light of twilight.

His silver eyes stared into the horizon with an unprecedented calm.

“…Seriously,” he chuckled to himself, gathering the half-finished bullets and stuffing them into his coat.

Outside the Xi Estate—

A heavy gloom hung over the main gate.

Dust stirred in the cold wind as footsteps shuffled across the dirt path.

Under the blood-red hue of sunset, shadows fell across the estate—dozens of figures slowly emerged, their numbers blotting out the fading light, their murmurs growing louder.

At the front stood a man gripping a steel rod that gleamed with an icy sheen.

The contempt in his face was unmistakable.

From within the estate, an elderly figure slowly stepped out through the grand doors.

“Gentlemen, may I ask what this is all about…?”

Seeing who had come to greet them, the man’s expression softened a bit.

He forced a smile, lips curling in mock politeness.

“Ah, Uncle Ai! No need to worry. It’s nothing serious, really.”

“Is that so?” Ai’s eyes narrowed.

“Because the dozen thugs behind you suggest otherwise.”

“…Tch. Alright, old man, no point pretending anymore.”

His smile vanished.

“We’ve been ordered to collect the Xi Family’s debt today. All of it. No exceptions. No delays.”

A dangerous light flickered in the man’s eyes, his face twisting into something monstrous.

Ai didn’t flinch.

“I believe you’re mistaken.

The loan contract clearly states: repayment of 10,000 Fars per month.

You have no authority to demand full repayment all at once.”

“Oh? What contract? I don’t see any contract.”

Ai calmly reached into his coat and retrieved a timeworn document.

“Right here. See for yourself.”

The man’s lips stretched into an even more grotesque grin.

“Riiip—”

“…What contract, Uncle Ai?” he sneered, scattering the torn fragments into the wind.

“Maybe it’s time you got your eyes checked.”

He turned to his men and bellowed,

“Boys! Anyone here see a contract?”

“Nope!”

“That geezer’s blind!”

“All I see are some torn-up paper scraps!”

Ai’s heart sank.

Too late—he understood their real intention now.

These weren’t amateurs.

They were seasoned debt collectors—sharks with blood on their hands.

This was going to get ugly.

“Let’s go, boys! Grab anything that looks valuable and haul it out!”

Suddenly, the leader froze.

A chill ran down his spine.

That sickening, drowning-in-blood kind of fear surged through his body.

He was a Mortal Tier, Rank 2 Awakener—a whole level above regular humans.

But the terror pressing on him now didn’t care about ranks.

It felt like being stalked by a lion.

No—by a pack of starving lions.

His primal instincts screamed at him to turn around.

He did.

His pupils shrank.

There stood a white-haired youth—like a ghost.

Those lifeless, glassy eyes shimmered with a cold light.

“…May I ask what business you have at my home?”

Sui Ming’s voice was calm, his tone disturbingly polite.

“Y-you’re the… Xi family’s heir?”

The man couldn’t believe the source of the fear crushing him was this so-called “worthless heir.”

Everyone knew the boy was just a disgraced noble, a weakling with no future.

“…Tch. Just a useless brat. Ignore him.”

Yet his body said otherwise.

Every cell screamed.

His legs trembled.

This… wasn’t the same kid.

Something had changed.

No—this boy had been reborn.

The air around him felt like it could tear reality itself.

His aura…

The scent of blood clung to him like a second skin.

And not just any blood—this was the kind that came from countless kills.

Compared to him, the debt collector’s so-called “killing aura” was like a puddle in the face of a raging river.

But…

As terrifying as he felt, there were no traces of magical energy.

None.

Meaning—

This boy… was still a mortal.

“…Oh? So you recognize me.

Good.

That makes things easier.”