Su Xiaoqiao gaped at the mountain of green carcasses, then back at the gleaming golden figure. "Big Bro... you did this? All of them?" He scanned the surroundings frantically. No one else. The blood splatter was still tacky, the kills fresh. His mind rebelled. Forty Windblades? Alone? Even Qin Xuan would need a squad for this kind of slaughter. Windblade Mantises were Primal-tier nightmares – too fast, too sharp. One ambush could cripple even seasoned hunters. Taking down this many, solo? Impossible.
"Want them? A thousand credits each." The voice emanating from the gold helm was surprisingly young, yet laced with a casual confidence that matched the scene of carnage. Han Sen gestured dismissively at the pile. He'd gotten carried away. Forty-three Mantises? He couldn't possibly process or carry that much meat back, and most of it would be useless to him after the first few anyway. He needed a solution.
"A thousand? Seriously?" Su Xiaoqiao blinked. Primal-tier flesh was always in demand, especially rare varieties like Windblade that people hadn't sampled. Standard Primals went for a few hundred, but difficult, high-risk kills like these? Easily two or three thousand apiece on the open market. This was a fire sale.
"Yep. A thousand each." Han Sen confirmed, his tone flat. He knew the market price. But logistics were the killer. Hauling forty-three carcasses back to Steelhold solo? Impossible. Leaving them here? They'd be stripped bare by scavengers before he returned with a second load. Time was his enemy; he had bigger prey to hunt. Wholesale price it was.
"Deal! I'll take the lot!" Su Xiaoqiao didn't hesitate. Profit was one thing, but the social capital... gifting rare Windblade Mantis meat to those still grinding Primal genes? Priceless. "How many?"
"Forty-three. Call it forty thousand flat." Han Sen was mildly surprised. This unassuming guy had 'money' practically written on his forehead.
Su Xiaoqiao pulled out a sleek credit folio, counted out ten crisp ten-thousand-credit notes, and thrust them towards the golden figure. "Forty-thousand for the Mantises. The other sixty-thousand is a deposit." He spoke quickly, urgently. "Big Bro, anything else you get your hands on? Especially Mutant-tier? You come find me first. Name your price. Seriously. Price is no object."
Sixty-thousand as a deposit? Han Sen took the stack, feeling the weight. This kid wasn't just rich; he was desperate. Or incredibly shrewd. Someone who could solo Windblades like this? Had to be capable of taking down Mutants. Su Xiaoqiao was buying access. Ten thousand credits was pocket change for a meal to him; securing a Mutant-tier supplier? Worth ten times that.
"Didn't peg you for a whale," Han Sen remarked, tucking the credits away.
"Honestly? Right now, credit's about the only thing I've got plenty of," Su Xiaoqiao admitted with a self-deprecating shrug. "So, Mutant flesh? You think of me. Price? Seriously, just name it. I'll pay."
"Alright," Han Sen agreed. This solved multiple problems. Selling rare, high-tier goods discreetly was ideal. A single, loaded buyer? Perfect. "Name and room number."
"Su Xiaoqiao. That's my real name. Room 1046, Steelhold Sanctuary." Su Xiaoqiao leaned in slightly. "And you, Big Bro? What should I call you? What's your room?"
"Gold Coin. Gold as in the metal. Coin as in money. That's what I deal in." The voice from the helm was cool, final. "Have the credits ready. When I have something good, I'll find you at 1046." Han Sen gave a curt wave and turned, striding purposefully back down the valley, the golden armor gleaming in the fading light. His father's lessons ran deep: protect his mother, protect his sister. Connections? Complications. He dealt in clean transactions now. Coin.
"Coin Bro! I'll be waiting! Count on it! Price won't be an issue!" Su Xiaoqiao called after the retreating figure, waving energetically.
Only when the gold glint vanished around a bend did the reality sink in. Su Xiaoqiao stared at the massive pile of Mantis corpses, then down at his own slight frame. "Crap. How the hell am I supposed to move all this?"
After some frantic mental logistics, he managed to drag a sackful back himself. Then, swallowing pride (and promising significant shares of the windfall), he recruited a few semi-trustworthy acquaintances. By the time they returned, thankfully, the grisly harvest pile remained untouched.
"Xiaoqiao, you're not pulling our legs, right?" one of the guys gasped, eyes wide as saucers as they took in the sheer number of carcasses. "One guy? Really?"
"Who else?" Su Xiaoqiao insisted, puffing his chest out slightly. "He was the only one there! Blood was still wet! Who else could it have been?"
"Probably his crew did the killing and left him to clean up," another snorted dismissively. "Soloing this many Windblades? Fairy tale."
"Definitely blowing smoke," a third agreed flatly, already hefting a carcass onto his shoulder, more interested in the profit than the impossible story.
Su Xiaoqiao just shook his head, too busy coordinating the salvage operation to argue. But the image of that lone, golden figure standing amidst the green carnage was seared into his mind. Gold Coin. He intended to be ready when that particular Coin came calling again.