Chapter 1: The Stranded Man with Black Hair, Section 3

“Garbage? Maybe. But if possible, I’d prefer you to call me Black Hair, or Number Seven.”
This was the first conversation between the young man and OldOld Buick after he woke up. At that time, the young man was sitting in a corner of the cargo compartment filled with miscellaneous items. Though he was dressed in tattered clothes and drinking bitter potion, his expression resembled that of someone in a palace—gentle and courteous, smiling as he faced OldOld Buick’s puzzled gaze.
“Don’t ask where I come from. Mr.Old Buick, I’m grateful for your rescue. But I have no money. If possible, I’d like to repay you by working for you.” Black Hair smiled faintly, downed the potion in the bowl in one gulp, then let out a long sigh, his face showing satisfaction. “It’s good—this bitter taste. I haven’t had it in a long time.”
Undeniably, Black Hair’s demeanor surprised OldOld Buick. As a leader of an organization, he had met many people with peculiar temperaments, but this was the first time he’d encountered someone so calm in the face of his savior. Moreover, he sensed something special about this man named Black Hair.
Well, it was an air of indifference—toward even his own savior.
“Alright, Black Hair. Maybe you’re right. Everyone has their secrets, and I don’t intend to put you in a difficult position. But since you want to work for me, shouldn’t I know your strengths? Were those terrifying mutated vultures killed by you?” With a laugh, OldOld Buick put on a generous demeanor. Nodding cheerfully, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate silver box, placing the protruding straw to his lips.
Magical technology truly had its unique strengths—even something as simple as tobacco could be refined to such perfection. Watching OldOld Buick smoke, a faint smile appeared on Black Hair’s face as well.
It was a strange world. As a test subject who had just escaped from the base, Black Hair loved this sense of freedom. To survive in this world, he had spent four days pretending to be unconscious, studying hard.

Four days—perhaps just a fleeting moment for ordinary humans. But for Black Hair, it was enough. His genetically optimized brain could easily memorize the language used here and conduct step-by-step analysis. Though not yet perfect, understanding meanings and having simple conversations posed no difficulty at all.

Hearing OldOld Buick’s tentative probing, Black Hair simply smiled and shook his head. “I did it.”

“Cough…” OldOld Buick was immediately choked by smoke and began coughing violently.

To be honest, although he had always had doubts about how those mutated vultures died, they were merely suspicions. After all, mutated vultures were species with extremely formidable physical strength. Not to mention in single combat, even the crystal cannons on puppet worms could only drive them away with a single hit. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have dominated the desert for thousands of years.

Only warriors could do such things. Could it be that he really was…

“Don’t be so surprised, Mr.Old Buick. Perhaps you don’t know, but these vultures have a small indentation on their heads—there’s their weakness. As long as you attack that spot, killing them isn’t very difficult,” replied the gentlemanly Black Hair with a smile.

“As for my strengths? Unfortunately, I’m basically useless. I have nothing special. The only thing I can rely on is one thing…”

“Fighting.”

Quietly, these icy words came from beneath Black Hair’s gentlemanly appearance. The scar beside his temple twitched, giving off a highly strange feeling. It seemed that this one trait had turned the originally polite gentleman into a beast, causing OldOld Buick’s heart to tremble violently.

But the next moment, Black Hair returned to his gentle demeanor, with not a trace left behind.

“I see… Ha… Haha… Okay, I understand. Black Hair, your specialty is fighting. In other words, you’re a warrior?” OldOld Buick forced a laugh, using smoking to hide his awkward expression.

“A warrior? Oh no. Perhaps you should call me a thug.” Black Hair stood up. Though his clothes were tattered, his movements were those of a gentleman—modest and polite.

Of course, the words he used now carried a completely opposite meaning. This extreme contrast also left OldOld Buick dizzy.

What kind of person had he actually saved? A thug? Could there really be such a gentlemanly thug in this world? Well, well. Then, mercenaries and guards, could you please step down?

“Now I understand.” Nodding, OldOld Buick’s expression turned serious.
“However, since you’re working in my team, you must fulfill your duties. Blackhair, though your strength lies in combat, I already have a warrior, so there won’t be much room for you. You can start by handling miscellaneous tasks. As for saving you, there’s no need to worry about it. We Scavengers never ignore those in need.” With that, OldOld Buick turned and left the room.
Work is work, and whenever it came to this, OldOld Buick would always be serious. Even knowing he might be facing a powerful warrior, he wouldn’t back down. This seriousness was precisely the key to his success. Moreover, letting someone of unknown background operate his only magic mecha certainly didn’t sit well with him; observing him closely was undoubtedly the best approach.
On top of that, he now had a real warrior by his side—though the price he demanded was too high. George’s image appeared in OldOld Buick’s mind, making him grit his teeth in frustration.
In these chaotic times, one couldn’t relax even for a moment.
What he didn’t know was that behind him, Blackhair was watching his back with interest, his eyes gleaming with a strange light.