Outworld Liberators-Chapter 169: A Murder Weapon Made for Mortals

The last two items looked almost silly at first. Stone tubes.

One the size of a dagger. The other the length of a short sword. People squinted, puzzled, because they did not know what to do with them.

They were not blades. Not talismans. Not pills. Not any artifact shape their instincts could name.

Eldric held them up without ceremony.

"This one is called a hand cannon," he said, tapping the smaller tube. "The other larger one is a fire arm."

Names chosen to sound plain, almost childish, like the items and services as he called them.

Names that did not point too sharply at what they really were.

Radeon had been careful with that. He knew how Eldritch things operated.

They understood cosmic fundamentals better than anyone, and technology that grew too advanced in a world of bloodlines and monsters was the kind of spark that drew attention from the wrong darkness.

That was why he had built a system of standards with simple, game like names, deliberate, easy to remember, and incomplete enough to look harmless.

He was not at his peak. He could not afford to stand in plain sight and announce pistol and musket like he owned the world.

The crowd accepted the gist anyway. A weapon. Something that threw force.

Eldric gestured, and five more Damage Assessing Apparatus walked onto the stage.

Qi gathered into them, visible in faint elemental shimmer, the same defensive readiness as before.

"These are once again Peak Cornerstone Setting cultivators," Eldric said.

He did not posture. He did not chant. He simply pointed. A crack like thunder tore through the hall. Then another.

Eldric moved like a mortal old man, slow and almost careless. But the apparatus did not get to be careless.

Each explosive sound turned one into goop, flesh and qi shattered and smeared across the floor.

The hall gasped. This was not a clever artifact. This was killing made simple.

Some mortals looked away, unimpressed at first, assuming it was another cultivator’s toy.

Something they could never use. Their eyes dulled, and they began asking their seated companions where to spend a lovely afternoon.

Then Eldric spoke again.

"This does not require qi," he said. "No cultivation. No energy input at all."

Bored eyes brightened. Backs straightened. Breath quickened.

If that was true, then a mortal could defend himself. A merchant could stop a thug.

A town lord could kill an assassin who slipped past guards.

Magnates felt their pulse hammer.

This was not a sword you had to practice with. Not a talisman you had to charge. This was a hidden answer.

Cultivators saw it too, from their own angle. A trump card.

Something to pull in a critical moment when qi was sealed, when stamina was gone, when the enemy assumed you were empty.

A single crack that could turn tides.

Eldric lifted the smaller tube again.

"I have ten of these," he said, "and the top ten bids will receive one each." He let the room seize on the number, then tightened it. "Each hand cannon can shoot up to ten times."

He pointed at the mush still forming on the floor.

"That is ten lives taken without a fight."

The words did not sound heroic. They sounded practical.

"No two hand cannons share the same features," Eldric added. "No one will know you have one."

The mortal magnates felt their mouths go dry. This was the item they could trust.

Better than a hired guard you had to trust with your back. It fit under a robe, and it could end arguments forever, if they wanted.

The bids started at once, flashing in eyes like sparks.

And Eldric used a small cruelty to sharpen greed. The display did not show the full ladder.

It showed only the first place bidder at the top, as if everyone else was far behind, as if every new thought might still steal victory cheaply.

People did not hesitate. They hurried to overpay, terrified of being second without ever seeing how close second truly was.

[499 High Grade Spirit Stones bid has been placed.]

People chased the ranking with single spirit stones, one behind, then one ahead, then one behind again, like men sprinting after a coin rolling downhill.

Masks kept their faces calm, but under the cloth hands clenched and unclenched.

Bids flashed in their eyes, and the moment a number rose, someone else tried to steal it with the smallest increase, as if victory could be bought by a hair.

Men turned their heads, frantic, searching the row for tells. They sat shoulder to shoulder, yet they could not read each other.

No lips moving. No hands raised. No cough that meant bluff.

[First Place] [Sold at 579 High Grade Spirit Stones.]

It was a trump card, sure, but it had only ten limited uses. Still, we were talking about individual prices.

The others, ranked from second to tenth, didn’t know who would win. Calyx could see how much had been bid.

[Second Place] [Sold at 578 High Grade Spirit Stones.]

[Third Place] [Sold at 577 High Grade Spirit Stones.]

...

[Tenth Place] [Sold at 542 High Grade Spirit Stones.]

"Now, for the fire arm. I do not have anyone to test it to, but this could shoot the same ten times."

Eldric let the bidding frenzy run until it started to feel familiar, until the hall began thinking only of rankings and spirit stones.

Then he paused.

The silence made the room feel larger, as if the walls had stepped back to give greed more space.

Some mortals dismissed the caution, wanting the hand cannon more, telling themselves ten shots was already enough.

Eldric’s next words made them swallow.

"Two shots for a Nascent Embryo expert," he said. "One for the body, one for the soul embryo that wants to survive. That’s all it takes."

The hall went still, then shifted, as if a new weight had been placed on every chest.

They took his word for it. So far every demonstration had held true.

And if this failed, Eldric’s reputation would not merely crack, it would collapse, and even a walking god did not enjoy being laughed at.

No one at this stage of life wanted their name turned into a joke.

People rushed to buy again. This time it was the cultivators who moved like sharks that had caught the scent of blood in water.

Mortals wanted protection for themselves. Cultivators wanted something colder.

Insurance. A hidden answer you slipped into a descendant’s sleeve before sending them out for experience.

A last resort that could turn a fatal ambush into a story told at banquets. A way to avoid collecting a dead body.

"As I noted earlier, what you see before you is a model only. The piece you receive will differ in its outward design. The measure is the only one that would remain. I’ll start this one at five hundred High Grade Spirit Stones."

[799 High Grade Spirit Stones bid has been placed.]

[859 High Grade Spirit Stones bid has been placed.]