Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 733: Section 504: Wisdom is the Most Dangerous Weapon in Human Hands (Part Two)_3

Chapter 733: Section 504: Wisdom is the Most Dangerous Weapon in Human Hands (Part Two)_3

"Some trouble, if the enemy has enhanced invisibility, do you have multispectral goggles here?" Malin asked.

"What’s that?" Old Jack seemed confused.

"Never mind, when I get to the Demon Hunter Guild, I’ll go to my workshop and fetch a bunch myself." Malin said and thought to himself, you folks in the Northern Kingdom have big industries and big business, the Demon Hunter Guild should have plenty of fancy new weapons, can’t wait to see what these northerners are playing with.

With such thoughts, Malin and the three others arrived at the Demon Hunter’s Northern headquarters in Copenhagen.

Well, this facade looks much better than that broken door at Carterburg, thought Malin as he followed Old Jack through the door, and felt pleased with the sight of the hall rich in historical charm - look at this table, it’s not bad, we in Carterburg are always simple folk, but we’ve been missing a table like this.

"Hal! Bring out our stuff to show our guest!"

Then a guard ran towards the back, and soon after, came running back with a bunch of guns, which Old Jack laid out on the table, looking at Malin, "How about that, our firearms."

Malin picked up a muzzle-loading flintlock firearm with trembling hands, "I haven’t even seen one of these... back when I first joined the Church!"

"What?" Old Jack had a puzzled expression.

"My kid knows politeness, let me translate that for you," Gaiate, the old man, gave a cough and said, "All trash."

Just as the two old men were about to exchange blows over whether the guns were trash or not, Malin had returned from his workshop with a stack of guns, which he laid out on the table just in time to see a Dwarf squeezing through the door of the Demon Hunter Guild. As soon as he saw Malin, he rushed over, "Lord Malin! Welcome to the North! Our King has told us of your whereabouts, do you have anything that needs forging? We can manufacture bullets!"

"Well then, please make a batch of bullets with the following specifications." Malin wrote down the details on a piece of paper and handed it over to him.

Then the old Dwarf took his leave with a bow and quickly exited through a small door next to the main entrance.

"...This is a gun?" Old Jack looked incredulously at the tree-like objects Malin had brought over.

"Yes, these are guns," Malin replied, picked up one of them, and turned to Niels, "You have an underground shooting range here, right? I’ll take you there."

Niels nodded and followed Malin downstairs, accompanied by a crowd of Demon Hunters eager to see the show.

At the firing line of the range, Malin placed the guns one by one, then donned a chest plate with quick-draw carrying gear. First up was the shotgun demonstration, Malin hooked the quick-loading board onto the snap hook of his chest plate.

The professional double-barreled speed loading silenced everyone right from the get-go, as they were all hardened in battle, those in the know understood what Malin’s loading speed meant.

And when Malin had fired all the bullets as quickly as possible, the Guild’s president couldn’t wait to appear before Malin to start placing orders—in his eyes, just three of these shotguns could turn an entire hallway into a hell made of bullets.

"No problem, you can go find that Dwarf gentleman from earlier; he will gather your order and then pass it on to me," Malin said, as he removed the emptied speed-loading board and this time hooked on a quad-stack double-layer magazine pouch.

Malin picked up a short-barreled assault rifle, first showcased Malin Arsenal’s flagship product, then pulled back the bolt, flipped off the safety, and under the dumbfounded gaze of all the Demon Hunters, fired all 45 rounds from the large magazine into the targets.

Then he ejected the magazine, flipped it over and loaded it again, and handed it to Old Jack, "Here, Mr. Jack, you give it a try."

Malin smiled, showing a sincere smile that even an arms dealer wouldn’t often display.

Trust me, aside from their wallets, nobody would refuse an assault rifle.

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