Because the discount area couldn't combine with the hunter-level discount, the money spent was a solid 10 billion.
Just like that, Blaine's balance dropped to only 7.9 billion.
Of course, his mall shopping wasn't over yet.
His physique stat had only been raised to 275 last time due to insufficient funds, and now that he had money, it was natural to increase it to 300.
With the 20% discount, he spent 2 billion, leaving 500 million saved. This hunter-level discount was quite impressive.
Besides—
Blaine also decided to strengthen the Cursed Blood blade.
Cursed Blood lived up to its name.
It was originally a demon blade worth 100 million.
Even strengthening it just to +1 required a full 10 million, far more terrifying than the cost of upgrading equipment like the Hunter Suit or Elemental Bow. But, relatively speaking, the higher the strengthening cost, the greater the corresponding power increase.
So Blaine didn't hesitate.
He clicked five times in succession, raising Cursed Blood to +5.
Strengthening equipment followed a regular pattern: every +5, the price jumped drastically. For Cursed Blood, the cost leapt from 10 million straight to 100 million.
Without flinching, Blaine clicked again, bringing it up to +10.
The total cost was 550 million, reduced to 440 million with his 20% discount.
It was worth every coin.
Cursed Blood had evolved once more.
[Curse Blood Knife +10]: This demon blade is extremely sharp. Any cut, even a shallow wound, infects the victim with curse poison, leading to a rapid and incurable death. Upon reaching +10, the blade can expel the curse poison as a colorless, odorless liquid—anyone who comes into contact with it will be infected. The curse poison grows stronger with further upgrades.
In addition to enhanced sharpness, durability, and lethal curse poison, the +10 Cursed Blood now had an added, sinister trait:
It could turn curse poison into liquid, forcing it out of the blade, infecting anyone who touched it.
Blaine muttered to himself. In the future, could he quietly kill someone with just a nick of the knife? Or simply smear a little cursed liquid on a doorknob?
Overall, though the upgrades had cost a fortune, they were worth it.
He had spent a staggering 12.9 billion in mere minutes.
---
Host: Blaine
Physical Fitness: 300
Hunter Level: B
Abilities: [Diamond Body Lv.5] [Swordsmanship Lv.4] [Copy Eyes Lv.3] [Absolute Hit Lv.3] [Hawkeye Lv.3] [Mind Control Lv.4] [Shadow Stealth Lv.3] [Mind Reading] [Danger Sense] [Regeneration] [Meditation] [Teleportation] (12/15)
Equipment: [Hunter Suit (+25)] [Elemental Bow (+25)] [White Snake Bow (+5)] [Tracking Paper Crane (x2)] [Cursed Blood Knife)+10]
Balance: 5 billion
---
"So damn heartless…"
Only a little over 5 billion remained.
Blaine pouted.
Money was hard to earn but far too easy to spend. When would his savings ever reach 100 billion? Or more?
Forget it. Stop dreaming.
The remaining 5 billion he decided not to touch.
Some things had to be kept in reserve. You couldn't spend every last coin. Saved funds could mean survival one day—expensive, unexpected life-saving items or equipment might appear in the system store at any time.
Maybe the 5 billion left now would be his lifeline in the future.
"Sigh…"
Blaine yawned. On a whim, he used his new teleportation ability to jump from his room to outside.
Immediately, he felt his stamina drop slightly.
Relative to his physique of 300, the drain wasn't extreme, but it was noticeable. By his estimation, it was like sprinting across Manhattan at top speed.
Not exhausting, but the energy loss was real.
After all, even with a physique of 300, he was still technically mortal. He could muster around a hundred tons of strength, but no matter how strong, it was impossible to run around the Earth without tiring.
At that rate, how could he expect to use teleportation freely across the globe?
He teleported a few more times in succession.
Then, after brushing his teeth and eating some bread, Blaine sat in the living room and turned on the TV.
He wanted to check on recent events.
But what he didn't expect was this:
White static dots flickered across the screen. The clear picture suddenly shifted into something resembling an old, grainy broadcast from the last century.
Onscreen appeared a middle-aged man with long hair and a beard. He wore strange robes and stood in the desert. Around him, masked men in cloth head coverings formed a square, with a wall bearing a giant portrait behind them.
In front of the wall, a group of bound civilians knelt on the ground.
Ahead, armed terrorists raised AKs, aiming at the captives.
The bearded man, wearing sunglasses with his hands behind his back, paused before the prisoners, then slowly walked away.
"Some people call me a terrorist," he said.
"I consider myself a teacher."
Da-da-da!
Gunfire erupted.
All the captives fell.
"The United States…"
"Ready for another lesson?"
He continued:
"In Sand Creek, Colorado, 1864, the U.S. Army waited until the Cheyenne warriors went hunting. Then they attacked and slaughtered the families left behind… and claimed their land."
The broadcast shifted, becoming slightly clearer. The bearded man appeared alone in a room. He removed his sunglasses and paced like a lecturer.
"Thirty-nine hours ago, the U.S. military's Ali Air Force Base was attacked."
"Yes, yes… I did it."
"An old military chapel, full of women and children."
"The soldiers were away training. The warriors weren't there."
"President Ellis… you refused my lessons before. Now you will listen."
"You know who I am. But you don't know where I am…"
The footage grew bloodier, harsher.
Blaine frowned, chose not to continue watching, and shut the TV off.
He knew exactly who the man was.
Even if he was just an impostor, his name at this time was: the Mandarin.
*************************************
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