The Memoirs of Cultivating Immortals

Chapter 21 Money

After all, this world is not a war-torn era where hunger is everywhere and bones are exposed. There are not so many ghosts and resentful souls for Li Ang to devour and melt. He walked up to the dilapidated roof of the apartment with a lack of interest, took off his hood, and breathed in the cold air.

Now that you have a proper identity certificate in this city, you need to find a way to find a secluded private place, no matter whether you are sacrificing magic weapons or practicing exercises, you don't have to be afraid of being discovered by others.

You must know that in the United States, a system called "community monitoring" is widely implemented. In the same community, residents are obliged to monitor each other. Once domestic violence, shooting or other trivial things happen to that family, the neighbors They will also take the initiative to call the police and let the police come over to maintain order, and their efficiency can be compared with that of Chaoyang people.

Under such circumstances, how can Li Ang practice with peace of mind? Once there is any strange noise and movement, the neighbors will call 911 within minutes. A random shooting behind the bunker is comparable to a powder keg that explodes at one point or a depressed patient with the most sensitive spirit.

Besides, the motel where Li Ang temporarily lived was really run-down—except for the old-fashioned color TV that would automatically switch to the midnight channel, other home appliances in the room would occasionally go down, and the next door often sounded shaking Rock and Roll Ghost Roaring.

“Still need to find some money”

In the pre-Qin period, those warlocks from other places who visited immortals and made alchemy had to rely on feudal emperors. Mysterious methods such as barbarian divination, melting and casting of magic weapons, alchemy in ancestral stoves, and summoning gods and impeaching ghosts all required huge resources to support them.

Just to create a bronze blade engraved with runes and spells that can be used by monks, the manpower, material and financial resources required are simply unimaginable.

The sword fan needs to be molded with mud and dried in the cellar. After the renovation, the craftsman has to use a fine needle to carve spells and talismans on the inside of the sword fan. Once there is a difference as small as a hair, the sword becomes a waste product .

In a bronze sword, the ratio of copper to tin must be exactly the same, and the temperature of the wood-burning furnace must not vary at any time. Forging a sword that can be called a magic weapon will produce at least ten or even hundreds of swords. A waste sword with a hilt.

Such a loss cannot be borne by non-princes and generals.

Even Zulong Yingzheng, who swept the Liuhe, swallowed the universe, and opened up the first feudal empire, only cast twelve hollow bronze men with a height of three feet.

These copper materials are converted into modern units, ranging from more than 30 tons to more than 80 tons. The international standard copper price is 5 RMB per ton. It is an unprecedented feat for Zulong to gather copper materials from six countries. However, at this time It’s worth more than 3000 million RMB, and you can just buy a suite in the downtown area of ​​the metropolis
Li Ang sat casually on the edge of the roof, took out the Western-style meat cleaver from his pocket, looked at the finely polished curved lines and the cold blade, and the flickering moonlight reflected in his eyes.

The efficiency of steelmaking in modern industrial society is too high. Feeding, slagging, slag removal, molten pool stirring, dephosphorization, electric furnace bottom blowing, melting charge, oxidation refining, molten steel stirring, and finally air washing to increase silicon, pull carbon out Steel, in one go.

Since then, the steel analyzer can more precisely measure the content of elements such as carbon, sulfur, manganese, phosphorus, silicon, nickel, chromium, molybdenum, copper, titanium, zinc, vanadium, and magnesium in steel, and print them as data.This level of refinement and nuance alone is unmatched by ordinary Golden Core cultivators.

Li Ang once visited the steel plant of the Wayne Group with his own eyes. The huge chimney and the boiling furnace almost made the soles of his feet sweat, and he smiled wryly.

He estimated that one ton of steel-making pig iron can be bought in the market for 600 yuan. If he finds the right source, the price can be discounted a few more. When he completes the foundation building, he will melt several tons of steel into a sword through talismans. The blade, driven by the aura, is enough to destroy the armor of the main battle tank head-on by its weight alone, and easily demolish a building.

Not to mention that in the future, when he was promoted to the Golden Core realm, he would entrust the blood essence on the sword and take the head of a person thousands of miles away in an instant, leaving nothing but the blood stains.

But the premise of all this is money.
Li Ang looked through his pockets, and there were only a few crumpled banknotes printed with various presidents lying scattered inside. Against the background of the empty beer bottles gurgling on the edge of the cement railing on the roof, it looked very pitiful.

The wind on the roof is so cold.

Li Ang cheered up, clasped his hands together, and breathed out into his palms. Just as he was about to go downstairs, he suddenly remembered that he hadn't received a reward for the exorcism just now, and thought of the poor family situation of that family, so he couldn't help but slapped his forehead. .

He looked not far away, a luxurious dinner was being held in a brightly lit high-end hotel, flowers were blooming, oil was cooking over a blazing fire, rich people were drinking and chatting happily, but no one cared about the exquisite, delicious, delicious and delicious meals. Waiting to be thrown in the trash after the party is over.

In the dark alley opposite the restaurant, there lay a homeless man in ragged clothes and disheveled hair, leading an old dog that was also skinny and shaved, and bent down to search for food from large black plastic bags.

A streamlined luxury jet-black sports car was parked at the entrance of the hotel. A bloated man with a big belly and a fat head struggled to get out of the car. Accompanied by him were two long-haired beauties who looked forward to their looks and were alluring and graceful.

"Mr. Richard, you are here."

The hotel doorman bowed obsequiously, took the car keys thrown by one of the women, and went to park the car with his head held high, as if his name was engraved on the screaming supercar.

The owner of this car, the fat man just now, is Richard Sapa, the current head of Gotham's local Italian mafia family.

Hmm. Speaking of which, Leon and Mr. Richard Sapa had some intersections. The scarred face he killed at the port on his first day in Gotham was a peripheral member of the Italian mafia.
The doorman swallowed his saliva and sat in the driver's seat, fondled the smooth steering wheel affectionately back and forth, then opened the car window and yelled at the homeless man outside: "Get away, don't come near here to bring your stench ,do you know?"

The homeless ducked aside cowering, letting the supercar roar and splash the water on him and the old dog.

"The wine and meat of the Zhumen stinks, and the road is frozen to death. Prosperity and decline are so different, and it is difficult to describe the melancholy."

Li Ang chewed these two poems back and forth, with a contemptuous smile on his lips. He put on his hood, sunglasses and mask, bathed in the bright moonlight, and walked lightly across the rooftops of tall buildings.

The splendor of the hotel was in front of him, Li Ang clasped the gap between the tiles on the wall of the tall building with his fingertips, and climbed down like a gecko.

The homeless man was shaking off the sewage stained on his body in depression, comforting the old dog whimpering softly because of hunger, when he suddenly felt someone pat him on the shoulder behind him.

"Hey, bro, how about a bet with you."

Leaning against the wall, Li Ang pushed his sunglasses, tilted his head and said to the homeless man, "Do you believe that I can take off the suit from that rich fat pig and wear it for you."

(End of this chapter)