Chapter 75- We've Got Company

The truck tore down the dirt road, the engine roaring as it bounced violently over the uneven, jagged terrain of Sector Delta-24. Every bump and jolt sent a shock through the truck's frame, rattling the bones of its passengers, but they barely flinched. This was nothing new to them; they'd grown used to the harsh, relentless ride.

For normal people, the incessant jolts would've been unbearable, but for them, it was just another part of the chaotic, unpredictable life they'd signed up for. There was no point in complaining—it wouldn't smooth out the rough road ahead, nor would it make the mission go any faster.

Rion sat in the backseat, his arms crossed over his chest, staring out the smudged window. His sharp gaze swept over the desolate, haunting landscape that zipped past, though his mind wasn't truly focused on it. He was elsewhere, his thoughts preoccupied with something much more important than the eerie, oppressive atmosphere around them—something he hadn't quite gotten used to yet.

He was 150k richer.

A certain bumbling fool had sent over more than enough money to buy the Wild Energy Potion—twice over.

It still felt unreal. A week ago, scraping together 30,000 kila had seemed like an uphill battle. Now? He had the funds to push past his bottleneck and upgrade his gear if he played his cards right.

Even though the potion wasn't something you could just walk into a store and buy, he had still crossed the first hurdle and secured the funds necessary. This incident had solidified an idea that had always been in the back of his mind, lurking just below the surface.

Wealth is the greatest enabler.

Rion's eyes drifted back to the foggy horizon, his thoughts still swimming in the aftermath of his new found wealth. This wasn't just a catchy phrase. It was a rule of law that defined both his previous life and present one. The gear he had crafted, the potions, the gene solutions, the origin techniques—none of that had come cheaply.

If it hadn't been for the timely influx of funds from Young Master #1,he would've been stuck gathering the money required to get the Wild Energy Potion for a long time, thereby delaying his other projects.

"Godly talent without resources is useless," he muttered under his breath. No matter how talented a cultivator was, they were doomed without the resources to support their growth. And those resources didn't come cheap.

Sure, you could be born with a natural gift for cultivation, an incredible ability that made others look on in awe. But if you didn't have the means to access the techniques, the specialized training grounds, or the cutting-edge gene solutions that could propel you to the next level, your potential was worthless.

It didn't matter how much talent you had if you couldn't afford the tools to refine it. And as you climbed higher, the resources you needed only got more expensive—only the richest could afford to reach the top.

The world only cared about results. No one cared how you got there, as long as you did.

The flip side was just as true. Someone with only average talent but a mountain of resources could easily outpace a natural genius. With enough wealth, they could take shortcuts others could only dream of. They could buy their way into the most prestigious academies or guilds, secure the rarest training materials, and hire the best instructors money could buy.

Rion knew this all too well. That was why he had always been so strategic about his investments. He didn't have the luxury of endless wealth like Young Master #1or his ilk. He had to earn every kila he spent, carefully planning each move.

If I am to ensure my continued survival in this world, I'll need strength and wealth. Everything else is secondary.

Rion leaned his head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the truck. The hum of the engine blended with the rhythm of his thoughts. Both strength and wealth were a package deal, one without the other was useless. Wealth without strength left you vulnerable to predators. It was why the spoiled brat had been an easy target. The idiot had wealth, sure, but no strength to back it up. No resolve, either.

Similarly, strength without wealth... well, that was somewhat similar to his current circumstance. He had the potential, his knowledge from the other world, but not the kind of resources that could truly accelerate his growth. Not yet, at least.

So, both strength and wealth went hand in hand. He needed strength to defend what he had, and he needed wealth to accelerate his cultivation and gain even more strength. It was a closed loop, but it was also the key to survival in a world like this.

And if I want to reach the top… I'll need a lot more of both, he thought, the determination in his chest growing stronger as he briefly considered his next step. The upcoming breakthrough to the Mid-stage of the 1st-tier might be significant now, but it was only baby steps in the grand scheme of things.

To get anywhere meaningful in this world, he'd need to breakthrough to the Late-stage, Peak-stage, then the 2nd-tier, and beyond. And if the cost of his impending breakthrough was an indicator, the cost for that kind of growth would be astronomical.

He would need more money, more resources, and more connections than ever before. His thoughts drifted to his side ventures—his small but growing business in selling weapons and technology. He had already built a modest customer base selling magnetic hanguns and other custom gadgets, but it wasn't nearly enough. He needed to expand, to find new avenues of income.

Fortunately, there was no shortage of wealthy idiots in this world. Weak, wealthy fools just waiting for someone like him to come along and take what they took for granted. It was only a matter of finding the right opportunities.

But money was only part of the equation. To truly ascend, he needed access to rare resources and exclusive techniques—things that weren't available to just anyone. This world was a place of secrets, where the most powerful organizations hoarded knowledge and resources like dragons guarding their treasure.

Breaking into those circles wouldn't be easy, but it was necessary. He needed to establish a network of connections—powerful, influential people who could open doors for him. People who could grant him access to the kind of opportunities and markets that were otherwise closed to him.

That's what made this mission so important. A successful job wouldn't just put money in his pocket—it would bring him closer to the Normos Family, a faction worth aligning with. It was a chance to prove his value, not just to himself but to the people who actually mattered. If he played this right, it could open doors to the kind of connections he needed.

As for failure? Well, it wouldn't just cost him a paycheck—it would set his plans back months, maybe even years. These old families had a vast pool of talent to choose from, mercenaries lining up for a chance to prove themselves. Screwing this up would mean losing any chance of getting in their good graces.

However, he also had to be careful as every favor came with strings attached. By choosing to ingratiate himself with the Normos, he would be stepping into their camp, and that meant he would be expected to stand against their enemies.

The Normos Family might currently be his ticket to the resources and connections he needed, but they weren't the only players in the game. There were other factions which were equally powerful and dangerous who might see his association with the Normos as a threat or an opportunity to exploit.

In addition, the political tides could shift at any moment, and today's ally could become tomorrow's enemy if the benefits were high enough. He needed to keep his options open, to maintain a level of neutrality that would allow him to pivot if necessary. That meant cultivating relationships with other powerful figures, even if they were rivals of the Normos.

Assuming, of course, I don't get myself killed or worse in the process.

It was a fine line to walk—too loyal, and he'd become nothing more than a disposable pawn; too aloof, and he'd seem unreliable and untrustworthy.

Before he could indulge further in his scheming, a sharp crackle of static from the truck's radio pulled him back to reality. Rion's senses, heightened by his recent evolution, perked up as a voice came through the static, barely audible but urgent.

{Attention, squad. This is Scout Team Alpha. We've found something ahead. Possible signs of an ambush. Be on alert. Over.}

The words instantly pulled Rion out of his thoughts, his relaxed posture gone in an instant. The air in the truck shifted as everyone inside tensed up. He heard Kellen, their no-nonsense team leader, reply through the radio, her voice calm but serious.

{Roger that, Alpha. Proceed with caution. Keep us updated.}

Rion's muscles tensed as he instinctively reached for his sniper case, pulling it closer to him. His mind raced as he mentally assessed the situation. The fog was thicker in this area, visibility poor. If there was an ambush, the attackers had chosen their spot well. He shot a sharp glance at Vance, who sat across from him, trying—and failing—to look nonchalant.

You just had to go and tempt fate you asshole....

Kellen's voice cut through the din in the car, all business. {Alright, listen up. We're going to proceed carefully from here on out. Keep your eyes open for any movement. If there's an ambush waiting for us, we're not going to let them catch us off guard. Non-combatants, go down low and stay out of sight. Understood?}

The trucks slowed as a chorus of affirmatives echoed from within. The engineers and archeologists, their white-knuckled grips on the seats betraying their fear, looked visibly shaken. Yet, they kept their heads down, trusting the combat teams to handle the situation.

As they approached the reported ambush site, the tension in the air thickened, palpable and suffocating, like a storm cloud ready to burst. The forest around them seemed to close in, the trees unnaturally dense, their gnarled branches twisting together to form a canopy that blocked out what little light the overcast sky offered.

The fog clung to the ground, thick and heavy, swirling with each movement like something alive, watching. It swallowed up sound and twisted the world into a blurry, unsettling silence that made the surrounding space feel heavier. The team pressed on carefully, senses on high alert, every shadow and rustling leaf sending a jolt of tension through their ranks.

The truck's engine, once a constant growl, now hummed quietly as it crept forward, its tires softly crunching over the damp forest floor.

The fog pressed on, thick and unyielding, cutting visibility to just a few meters and turning the world into a blurry, colorless blur. Shapes appeared and vanished in the mist, playing tricks on the mind, leaving them unsure if what they saw was real or just their imagination. But Rion, sitting in the passenger seat, didn't need clear sight to feel something was off. His gut was shouting that danger was close.

Suddenly, a faint sound sliced through the heavy silence—a low rumble, distant at first, almost too soft to hear. But it grew steadily louder, creeping closer with every passing second. Rion's eyes snapped to the rearview mirror, scanning the thick fog that swallowed the road behind them.

It was hard to see anything past a few feet, the mist too dense and impenetrable, but the unmistakable roar of multiple engines echoed through the air, breaking the silence with a deep growl.

Rion swore under his breath, his muscles coiling in anticipation.

"We've got company. Hostiles coming in fast from behind," the driver said, his voice cutting through the radio's static like a knife.