Ed looked around and, after confirming that no one was watching him, turned toward his own ship. He reached into his shirt, pulled an apple from his inventory, and took a big bite.
Sweet juice flooded his mouth, moistening his eyes once again. Finally, after three days, he could eat sothing without worrying about vomiting it back up.
"Did you hide an apple in your shirt? Seriously?"
Sigurd, who had just satisfied his poor eyes with so colorful images after three days among a group of uncles, spoke dumbfoundedly. He had happened to turn around just as Ed was retrieving the apple.
"Sigurd, my brother, I’ve recovered. Now I can eat anything without worrying about vomiting everything out," Ed ignored Sigurd’s question and weird expression, grabbing his shoulder and speaking with deep emotion.
Seeing Ed’s expression, like a poor man who had finally found a job after years of struggle and could now eat without worry, the corner of Sigurd’s mouth twitched. He wanted to say sothing, but after a mont’s thought, he just patted Ed’s shoulder and shook his head.
"Good. That ans you don’t need my help anymore. Now go and have fun; let’s et up later, alright?" After saying that, he patted Ed’s head with a sigh and walked away.
Ed, though confused by Sigurd’s odd reaction, didn’t think much of it. Still eating his apple, he walked along the platform and soon reached the main road.
He looked at the buildings and shops on both sides. The architectural style here wasn’t much different from that of Golden Wheat Island, perhaps because the distance between the two islands wasn’t great.
Most n wore thin linen shirts and short pants, while won wore long gowns with white cloths covering their heads, their hair hanging down their backs. There were no young girls wearing short, beautiful, or seductive clothes; even the older ladies wore single-piece long dresses. The shops on either side sold seafood, various grains, so fruits, and local island delicacies.
As he continued forward, he took back his previous statent that this island was similar to his own. The style here was much different. The buildings were taller and more beautiful, with each exterior wall painted in various colors.
The shouting from the street was hardly audible anymore. Though it was still noisy, it seed much quieter. The people coming and going were much better dressed than the residents at the harbor, wearing more cotton clothes.
Finally seeing beautiful ladies and young girls in short skirts, revealing their long, pale legs and giving a small peek at the tops of their milky bosoms, Ed felt for the first ti that the torture on the ship had been worth it.
The surrounding shops had beco more upscale: hotels, clothing stores, restaurants, bakeries selling bread and cakes, taverns, and, most importantly, love houses. In only ten minutes, Ed had seen three love houses painted pink with beautiful ladies standing at the entrances, inviting guests inside to see heaven. Clearly, this was a business that brought the most profit for the least investnt, and it was very popular.
As he passed by a bakery, Ed, who hadn’t eaten anything sweet like cake for weeks, couldn’t resist and walked in. He noticed the high-end breads, all labeled as being made with flour from Golden Wheat Island, but he wasn’t interested, after all, he had a large stock of that very bread in his inventory, all of it free. He had simply walked into Aunt Marcy’s house, inford Sigurd casually, and thrown the entire barrel of bread into his inventory without anyone questioning why he needed so much.
After greeting the old man at the counter and a few minutes of serious negotiation, he managed to buy a kilogram of honey cakes, thirty palm-sized, round cakes with a special cream on top, made from a secret recipe the owner wouldn’t reveal. Because of the special cream, the cakes were expensive as hell, and Ed walked out of the bakery having spent an entire Silver Snake. However, he had to admit the cakes were delicious, so soft they seed to disappear after a few bites, and well worth the money.
Ed then wandered around for a while and noticed many interesting shops. One that caught his eye was a weapons shop that occupied two storefronts.
"Golden Blade" was the na of the shop.
Quite a few n were inside choosing weapons. Ed, still eating his cake, walked in casually. There was no one to greet him. All kinds of swords hung on the walls and racks: two-handed greatswords, scimitars, daggers, rapiers. The most common weapons were the sailor’s dagger and long knife, the cheapest weapons you could find on any ship.
However, none of these weapons costs less than a silver snake. A normal sailor’s scimitar was worth about 100 Copper Swallows; one silver snake could buy two. He should have followed Sigurd’s advice back on the ship and chosen a random long knife, mainly because he had no way of judging these weapons and didn’t know which were better. It seed he could only look today and gather so general information.
After walking around for a while, Ed saw sothing strange and hurried over. On the counter were several short, pistol-like weapons. They looked similar to classic six-shot revolvers, with a hamr structure at the back.
"What kind of weapon is this?" Asked Ed, who had already seen the weird technological miracles of this world and was intent on mixing in his previous world’s knowledge.
Hearing Ed’s question, the bald salesman imdiately ca over and picked up the pistol Ed was looking at, smiling.
"This is a rock-shaking pistol, a ranged weapon."
Rock-shaking? It seed to be based on the sa principle as the rock-shaking cannon used on the ship. So, in simple terms, it was a miniaturized version of the cannon. I see... Ed thought, rubbing his chin.
"What’s the effective range?" He asked casually. Although he didn’t know the exact effective range of old-fashioned weapons from his past life, he could roughly guess from movies. How it compared to this world’s technology was still a big question.
Seeing the guest’s interest, the salesman’s smile widened. "Sir, the effective range is about 50 ters."
Hearing the range, Ed nodded thoughtfully. Although he was disappointed that such a large gun could only shoot a maximum of 50 ters, with stability and accuracy still in question, for soone who had decided to be a long-range player, 50 ters was definitely enough for the early stages.
"How much does this weapon cost?" Ed asked after a mont, confirming that there was no better weapon than this pistol.
"They range from three to eight silver snakes. We don’t have anything more expensive for sale here at the mont."
F*ck! It was extrely expensive; the lowest price was equivalent to what a skilled worker typically earned in a year. Looking at the pistols on the counter, Ed cursed inwardly. They were all revolver-style but had different appearances. The one in the middle had a label with the number eight written on it—probably the most expensive one, obviously because it had a better and more luxurious golden finish.
"Would you like to take a look, sir?"
Without waiting for Ed’s answer, the salesman took out the middle pistol, worth eight silver snakes with its cool golden finish, and placed it on the counter.
He introduced it with an excited face, as if showing off a treasure. "This is the work of Alando Toure, a famous gunsmith on our island. The effective range can reach 65 ters, and it uses the more powerful No. 3 ammunition. Most importantly, it cos with a golden finish. Only eight silver snakes, sir, a very affordable price for a product from a master craftsman."
Why is this shopkeeper so confident that I can afford so much money?
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