One week was enough ti for a person to be completely reborn inside and out, and more than enough to turn a ten-square-ter rental room into a strategic supply depot.
Luke stood in the center of his rental room, barely able to find space to step.
The floor, table, and even the bed were covered with a dazzling array of "goods" and packaging scraps.
The air was filled with the fresh scent of bamboo, the sweet sll of sugar, and the complex chemical fragrances of various perfus and floral waters.
During this week, he had operated like a precise and frantic machine running at full speed.
First ca "brand packaging."
He spent a "huge sum" — 7,000 yuan — to custom-order one thousand bamboo jars.
Five hundred were engraved with elegant cursive "Mithril Sal" (Secret Silver Salt), and the other five hundred with "Velvet Snow" in the sa style.
The nas had to sound impressive, and the stories had to be well-crafted: Top-tier seasoning sacred items from mysterious islands east of the Narrow Sea, blessed by dwarf craftsn and elven sorcerers.
Next was "product line expansion."
Two hundred bottles of floral water — half in classic glass bottles, half in new spray-head plastic bottles — all labeled "Sumr Snow."
One thousand 3ml bottles of wind oil essence, each with a sticker reading "Dragon's Cold Fla," positioned as alchemical potions for refreshing the mind and dispelling evil.
The highlight was perfu. Six hundred bottles of cheap generic goods were categorized and given six ridiculously chuuni English labels: "Rosewater," "Siren's Tear," "Demon's Whisper," "Lady's Kiss," "Dragonblood," and "Lionheart."
He even made up short, mysterious origin stories for each scent, ready to fool… ahem, to "culturally export" to the nobles of Westeros.
And that still wasn't enough.
He stockpiled massive amounts of basic materials: 1,000 jin of table salt, 1,000 jin of white sugar, 1,000 jin of rock sugar (renad "Ice Crystal Honey"), and 1,000 jin of brown sugar.
He also bought stacks of A4 paper, two boxes of pencils, two boxes of ballpoint pens, two boxes of fountain pens, and two boxes of ink.
All in large industrial Blue Star packaging — dirt-cheap in cost, but in Westeros, these were hard currency that could support a long-term "high-end brand" supply chain.
He stored all the supplies, along with newly purchased self-defense weapons, into his personal space.
The space had grown noticeably larger — its side length had increased by another 3 ters.
He guessed that every additional attribute point increased the side length by 1 ter.
Another obvious benefit of adding points was that he had grown taller.
He asured himself at a pharmacy's scale: 170 cm!
While still not "tall and mighty," it was a qualitative leap compared to his previous 160 cm "stunted" height!
Because of this, he had thrown out most of his old clothes and bought new outfits.
He spent another 1,500 yuan to custom-order three high-quality "Ga of Thrones cosplay" sets. The fabric, craftsmanship, and details were far superior to the previous cheap stall goods.
Two sets were refined, low-key luxurious deep-black King's Landing noble style; the other was a sturdy, wear-resistant gray-brown ranger outfit for easy movent.
Including various miscellaneous expenses, he had spent nearly thirty thousand yuan in total.
Where did the money co from?
He had carefully sold small batches of deford "gold beans" at different gold shops in different districts and counties, exchanging them for just over 100,000 yuan in cash.
He even found a Douyin UP master with hundreds of thousands of followers, pretended to be a fan, and mailed him a "gold lump."
The blogger made a video titled "Gold Slting and Purification" that gained a lot of traffic…
Naturally, Luke also had him buy the 51.9 grams of gold for 50,000 yuan.
In total, he earned 150,000 yuan!
He didn't dare sell any more. The difficulty and risk of cashing out gold were too high — one mistake and he'd end up in custody!
"Modern society really knows how to restrain protagonists…"
Luke decided to shift his focus toward jewelry, gemstones, and antiques that might exist in Westeros — items easier to sell on Blue Star and harder to trace.
At this mont, in the darkest hour before dawn.
Luke stood in the center of his completely transford rental room and took a deep breath.
He first put on a lightweight stab-resistant vest from an outdoor store under his clothes. He didn't know how effective it would be against Westerosi swords, but it at least provided so psychological comfort and basic protection.
Over it, he wore his brand-new black King's Landing noble outfit — slim-fitting and sharp, making him look taller with longer legs and a much steadier presence.
On his feet were black Hongxing Erke sneakers.
At his waist hung a 1,000-yuan "Longquan treasured sword."
The young man in the mirror had a handso face, sharp eyes, and an upright posture. He looked nothing like the bruised, miserable, unemployed youth from just a week ago.
"Ti to go back."
He murmured softly, his gaze turning toward empty space as if he could see through the barrier between the two worlds.
He focused his mind and locked onto the coordinates.
The small alley he had fled from in panic more than ten days ago.
The weightless sensation ca and went in an instant.
The unique sll of King's Landing — a mix of rot, dampness, and distant cooking smoke — hit him in the face.
The sky was just beginning to brighten. A few remaining stars still hung in the deep blue do, and the narrow alley was shrouded in the deepest shadows before dawn.
A vague mutter and the sound of soone turning over ca from underfoot.
Luke looked down. In the faint morning light, he saw a figure wrapped in rags curled up in the corner — a beggar still sound asleep, seemingly unaware that a person had suddenly appeared beside him.
He imdiately held his breath, body slightly tense, and swept his sharp gaze around.
The alley was quiet. Compared to when he left, nothing seed to have changed.
The junk piled in the corner was the sa. On the ground…
His eyes narrowed. In the stone cracks and shadows near the beggar, he could still see so dark brown stains that hadn't been completely washed away.
That was blood.
His blood… and perhaps the blood of those four thugs.
A cold chill crawled up his spine, but it was quickly suppressed by an even stronger calm and determination belonging to the "returner."
He didn't disturb the beggar. Like a silent shadow, he stuck close to the wall and swiftly, nimbly left the alley that carried such bloody mories.
King's Landing was slowly waking up in the dawn light, and Luke — completely renewed and ard to the teeth — officially stepped onto the more ambitious journey he had planned long ago.
This ti, he was no longer prey, nor a clueless gold digger.
He was the supplier of "Mithril Sal" and "Velvet Snow," the holder of "Sumr Snow" and "Dragon's Cold Fla"…
He was a transmigrator with a System, full language mastery, and tempered by life-and-death experiences.
"Westeros… your devil has arrived!"
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