Chapter 236 Old Kohler
"Ah?"
After Meihua 5's "suggestion" about disguising himself as a Punisher, Klein almost thought he had misheard him. Even with his Clown-like control over his facial muscles, he nearly couldn't hold it in.
You want me to impersonate a Punisher? Aren't you sending me to my death?! The Nighthawks are still somewhat reasonable, but the Punishers are a bunch of hotheads who act without thinking! If I pretend to be one of them, they might just physically 'transcend' me with lightning and storms at the slightest disagreement! By then, even Mr. Azik probably wouldn't make it in time to save me...
Seeing Klein's expression, a mix of wanting to complain but forcibly holding back, Meihua 5 seemed quite satisfied and chuckled softly.
"Just a joke!"
"—" That joke wasn't funny at all. Klein silently grumbled in his heart, while subtly adjusting his expression.
"Alright, I won't tease you anymore. As a newcomer, you did well this time," Meihua 5's tone became serious, with a hint of approval. "To actually escape from Crestet Cesima's hands is commendable."
"You flatter me, it was just good luck." Klein bowed slightly, keeping a low profile.
"No, credit is credit, and it deserves a reward." Meihua 5 waved his hand, pulled out a slightly thick envelope from his Pregnant, and handed it over.
"Inside is 1000 su le in cash, plus gift vouchers worth 300 su le, which can be used at any store under the Society."
Over a thousand su le! Meihua 5, as a superior, is quite good when it comes to material things; I misunderstood him. Klein's heart filled with joy, and he quickly reached out to take the envelope.
However, when he grasped the envelope, he found that the other party's fingers had not let go. He tried to pull back, but his superior's fingers remained unmoving like iron tongs.
"Ah? You're really taking it!" Meihua 5 suddenly exclaimed, his tone exaggerated and surprised.
What?!
Klein's mind instantly froze, his outstretched hand suspended in mid-air. Am I not supposed to take it? What does this mean?
Is his superior hinting that I should hand over a portion? Or is this just a test to see if I am greedy? In an instant, various thoughts flashed through his mind, leaving him somewhat at a loss, and the smile on his face became stiff.
Just as he was hesitating whether to let go, Meihua 5 suddenly released his fingers and laughed again: "Just kidding, you've worked so hard, this money is what you deserve."
Another joke. Klein almost failed to maintain his facial expression. He quickly retrieved the envelope and carefully tucked it into his inner pocket, keeping it close to his body.
He composed himself and looked at Meihua 5.
"Sir, I actually have one more question I don't understand."
"Speak."
"Why is it that when we fire our flare, it shows the symbol of the Earth Mother Church? That doesn't seem... related to us."
"Oh, that's normal, you'll know if you think about it carefully," Meihua 5 explained. "Firstly, to hide our identities, we absolutely cannot use the Society's own emblem. But to create confusion, the emblem cannot be a meaningless pattern."
He pointed with his finger: "Secondly, if we used the emblems of secret organizations like the Aurora Order or the Demoness Sect, that would only attract the Punishers and the Machinery Hivemind, making things even bigger."
"So, we can only choose from the Seven Orthodox Deities' Churches. The God of Combat Church and the Night Church are at loggerheads; using the God of Combat's emblem would only attract more Nighthawks. Similarly, the Storm Church, the God of Knowledge and Wisdom Church, and the Eternal Blazing Sun Church are not on good terms. Whether we use the emblem of the Eternal Blazing Sun or the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, it will definitely attract the Punishers."
"After such a screening, the Earth Mother Church is the most suitable choice. It belongs to an Orthodox Deity, so it won't over-stimulate Official Beyonders. At the same time, its Church has a decent relationship with the three major Churches, so it won't cause unnecessary trouble just because of a flare."
So there were so many intricacies involved. Klein secretly sighed after listening to the other party's clear explanation.
"Alright, question time is over." Meihua 5 changed the subject, leaning forward slightly, and that smile that made Klein's heart feel a little uneasy reappeared on his face. "I heard—you like money a lot, don't you?"
Ah...
"Well, I guess no one dislikes money, right?" Klein's mouth twitched, and he answered somewhat awkwardly.
"How about I make you a rich man?" Meihua 5 said with a smile.
"Charles has a task recently concerning economics and stocks, and he needs someone capable, without background, and in need of money to play the role of a rich man."
"Ah—but I know nothing about that." Klein was a little surprised. Although he had indeed bought some stocks before he transmigrated, the background and rules of this era were too different from Earth, so those experiences couldn't be used as reference.
"It's alright, someone will teach you what to do specifically," Meihua 5 added. "Besides, you can't be a detective lately."
"Why?" Klein was stunned; he hadn't taken on any tricky commissions recently.
"Didn't Charles tell you? That short person who commissioned you to find someone last time complained about you to the guild." Meihua 5's tone carried a hint of schadenfreude. "She accused you of illegal intrusion and slandering the employer. To give her an explanation, we could only temporarily lower your detective rating and, during this period, prohibit you from taking on any commissions."
Hiss—Klein gasped, feeling a toothache.
East Borough.
Regarding the issue of firearm manufacturing, Luo En carefully studied the shares he currently held.
In some large firearm factories, his shareholding was too small to interfere with the factory's operations at all. His cheap father had indeed invested in many arms companies, but they were too dispersed, and most of these companies' operations were merely breaking even, with little profit. If he were to argue with other shareholders, it would only waste a lot of time.
Finally, he set his sights on a small-scale factory—the Logte Firearms Factory.
That factory had a staff of about three hundred people, and the ownership was very concentrated, with the vast majority in the hands of the factory director. The shares Luo En held already made him the largest shareholder apart from the director.
When Luo En wrote to the other party expressing his intention to acquire the factory, the other party immediately showed considerable interest, stating that they could meet at any time to discuss details and could offer a very favorable price.
Such enthusiasm, however, aroused Luo En's vigilance. After several exchanges of letters, Luo En decided to personally visit and inspect.
In the early morning, Luo En, dressed in a formal suit, walked into the never-ending mist of the East Borough.
Pale white and yellowish mist permeated the surroundings, making the figures of passersby blurry. The chill of the morning gradually permeated his clothes.
As he walked, he saw not far ahead a middle-aged man, forty to fifty years old, with graying temples and wearing a thick jacket, constantly shivering, taking small quick steps in place, trying to generate some warmth.
Luo En didn't observe much, walking straight past him. But perhaps the thick fog affected visibility, and the man didn't see the road clearly. He stumbled and accidentally bumped into Luo En's arm.
A thief?
Because of his previous experience of being stolen from by Hai Rou'er, this thought flashed through Luo En's mind subconsciously.
But when he looked back, he found that the middle-aged man had not left; instead, he was bending down, anxiously searching for something on the dirty ground.
Luo En stopped, his gaze sweeping around, and finally, about half a meter from his feet, he found a small matchbox.
He picked it up casually; it felt very light in his hand, and when he shook it, there seemed to be only a few matches left inside.
He turned and handed the matchbox back to the man.
"Thank you, thank you!" The middle-aged man received it as if it were a treasure, thanking him sincerely as he took the matchbox.
His face was pale, his beard was tangled and messy, and the exhaustion in his eyes and brows was almost overflowing.
He sighed and added, "Another night without sleep. I really don't know how many more days I can hold on. I hope the Lord blesses me and allows me to enter the workhouse today."
A tramp, then. Luo En understood, and casually asked, "Can't you sleep in places like parks or stations?"
"No," the man shook his head with a bitter smile. "If you sleep there, the police will come and drive you away, saying it affects the city's appearance."
He sighed, then continued, "However, in this kind of weather, if you really fall asleep outside, you might never wake up again. Daytime is better, at least you can find a warm place to stay."
With that, he pulled out a crumpled, low-quality rolled cigarette from his Pregnant, carefully struck a match, and lit it.
The nicotine seemed to restore a little of his energy. He walked ahead of Luo En, the two of them, one in front and one behind, walking together into the depths of the fog.
After a few steps, he suddenly stopped, his eyes fixed on something on the ground ahead.
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his face full of hesitation.
Luo En followed his gaze and saw what appeared to be an apple, bitten into and already starting to rot and blacken.
Just as the middle-aged man extended his trembling hand, preparing to pick it up and put it in his mouth—
"Eating that will make you sick." Luo En's voice was not loud, but it clearly interrupted his action.
"I…" The man's movements froze. He shrugged helplessly, his face filled with bitterness, "I haven't eaten anything for almost three days."
This—
This simple, desperate remark left Luo En stunned.
"Have you been active around here?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"Yes."
"Then are you familiar with the factories nearby?"
"Hmm… I wouldn't say very familiar, but I do know where they're hiring and where they're laying people off." Although a bit strange as to why the other party asked this, the middle-aged man still answered truthfully.
"Alright then," Luo En looked at him, "I have something I'd like to consult you about. How about we go to a coffee shop to talk?"
The middle-aged man paused, then a smile mixed with surprise and gratitude appeared on his face: "No problem! Of course, no problem! It's much warmer in a coffee shop than on the street."
This simple reason—warmer than on the street—made Luo En sigh softly in his heart.
Inside the cheap coffee shop by the road, the warm air formed a stark contrast with the cold outside.
The tables and chairs here were covered with an unremovable film of grease, gleaming faintly in the dim light. Because the walls and windows blocked the wind and cold, the shop wasn't short of customers. The din of voices and clattering of tableware intertwined, making it indeed much warmer than on the street.
The air was filled with a rich aroma of food: stewed meat, bread, and the sour smell of cheap coffee.
The middle-aged man, invited in by Luo En, subconsciously swallowed, his eyes revealing undisguised longing. But he quickly noticed Luo En's gaze, and that longing was forcibly suppressed, replaced by a hint of nervousness and restraint as he slightly lowered his head.
Luo En found an empty seat against the wall, gestured for him to sit down, and then ordered.
"A pot of hot tea, a black bread, a portion of margarine, a bowl of oatmeal, and another bowl of mutton stew—oh, and a cup of coffee."
These items cost him a total of 15 su le.
Soon, steaming hot food was brought over and placed between the two of them.
"This is all for me?" The middle-aged man looked at the mutton stew and bread before him, asking with a mix of anticipation and surprise, his voice trembling slightly.
"Except for the coffee." Luo En responded with a smile, pulling the dark brown liquid to his own side.
However, the middle-aged man didn't immediately start eating. He rubbed his calloused hands and asked hesitantly, "Sir, what exactly do you… need my help with?"
Luo En picked up the coffee cup and blew on the hot liquid: "I came to East Borough to discuss a business deal and want to know the true situation of some nearby factories. You know, those factory owners will definitely exaggerate the good points when facing someone like me; they won't tell the truth."
He looked at the other party and said honestly, "Since you're often active in this area, you should have some understanding of the general situation of the factories, such as worker treatment, whether they often recruit people, and what the atmosphere in the factory is like, right?"
"So that's it…" The middle-aged man nodded. This reason was logical and reasonable, greatly lowering his guard.
"You eat first," Luo En gestured, "You'll have the strength to talk once you're full."
"Thank you—thank you, sir. You—you're truly a good person." The middle-aged man's voice choked up slightly, and his eyes reddened.
"Have some porridge first. Don't eat too much greasy food all at once," Luo En cautioned.
"I know, I know—I had an old friend who died that way." The middle-aged man picked up his spoon, making an effort to slow down his eating speed.
From time to time, he picked up the teacup, gulping down a large mouthful of hot water, as if to wash down the food he hadn't had time to chew.
Luo En picked up his coffee and took a small sip. He didn't rush, just waited quietly for the other person to finish eating.
"Phew…"
After a long while, the middle-aged man finally put down his spoon, wiping the last drop of gravy from the bowl with bread and swallowing it. He leaned back in his chair, let out a long sigh, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"It's been two months, no, almost half a year since I've eaten this well. Even in the poorhouse, the food was just barely enough."
"What's your name? How should I address you?" Luo En asked.
"Kohler, sir. You can just call me Old Kohler."
"Old Kohler," Luo En put down his coffee cup and got to the point, "Do you know the Loggert Firearms Factory at 12 Iron Carbon Street?"
"Hmm…" Old Kohler fell into thought, "I know it. It's not a big factory. I went to check it out when they were hiring before, but I wasn't chosen. They have very high requirements for people."
"Very high? What kind of requirements? Skillful operation of Robot?" Luo En pressed.
"No," Old Kohler took a sip of hot tea to moisten his throat, "They require people to have experience in manufacturing weapons and ammunition, and their hands must be very dexterous and steady. There aren't many requirements for operating Robot."
"This feeling… it's not like they're recruiting workers, but rather craftsmen," Luo En murmured to himself.
According to Old Kohler, the mechanical engineering level of this firearms factory was probably not high. It sounded like there wasn't even a qualified assembly line, and weapon production relied entirely on the hands of master craftsmen, lacking standardized work processes.
"And recently, that factory seems to have laid off quite a few people," Old Kohler seemed to recall something else and continued.
"Laid off people?"
"Yes, a friend I knew at the poorhouse used to work there. He said he was laid off three months ago because the factory couldn't afford to pay salaries anymore."
"This…"
According to this, the firearms factory's operational status had reached a very dangerous point. No wonder the factory owner was so enthusiastic in his letter.
However, this wasn't entirely bad. When it came time to acquire the factory, the price could definitely be driven down further. But the question was, could he make it profitable after taking it over? Although Luo En was very confident in the weapons he designed, production itself was a big problem. "Old Kohler, do you have any plans later?" Luo En looked up and asked.
"I was thinking of… trying my luck at the docks again, to see if they need temporary workers today," Old Kohler replied truthfully.
"Hmm." Luo En pulled a 1 su le banknote from his pocket and handed it to the other party.
"I'm buying half a day of your time. You'll accompany me to the Loggert Firearms Factory and also tell me about the surrounding area."
"No, no need, sir!" Old Kohler waved his hands frantically at the sight, "You've already treated me to food…" "That's separate," Luo En shook his head slightly, placing the banknote on the table and pushing it over, "The food was for the consultation fee. This money is for your time."
"Alright—alright. Thank you, sir, you're very generous." After hearing Luo En's explanation, Old Kohler hesitated for a moment but finally accepted the banknote.
Half an hour later, Luo En and Old Kohler walked and chatted, arriving near the firearms factory.
During their conversation, Luo En also learned about Old Kohler's past. He had once been a skilled technician with a good family. But a few years ago, an infectious disease took his wife and child, and he himself was hospitalized for a long time. When he was discharged, his job was gone, his savings were gone, his home was gone. Having lost everything, he could only wander endlessly in the lower strata of this vast city.
Alas—this was an era where people could starve to death. Luo En sighed inwardly.
In fact, he had thought more than once about a question: Beyonder powers were so miraculous, why weren't they used to develop productivity?
Although he hadn't witnessed the power of truly high-Sequence Beyonder, based on his current knowledge, the abilities of mid-Sequence, no, even some low-Sequence Beyonder, would be enough to bring about revolutionary developments in various industries such as food, clothing, housing, and transportation.
Not to mention making the entire Society incredibly affluent, but at the very least, ensuring people wouldn't starve should be achievable.
But why hadn't it happened? Why hadn't the Church, the Official, and the secret Societies done so?
He couldn't figure out this question.
Ultimately, Luo En could only attribute it to the reason that Beyonder powers were too easily lost control, and too dangerous for ordinary people.
Or perhaps it also involved some human greed.