Late at night in the rental room, only the dim glow of the screen and occasional car headlights slicing through the darkness from outside.
Luke couldn't sleep at all.
His brain was like an overloaded engine, roaring as it repeatedly simulated the future.
Hand it over to the state?
That thought had only vaguely flashed through his mind during the initial adrenaline rush, then he imdiately killed it.
It wasn't that he had any issue with the collective. On the contrary, he genuinely felt that the country was steadily advancing according to its own pace and grand blueprint.
The nation was busy with the stars and the sea, with common prosperity… every goal required countless people to work diligently in their own positions.
His little "adventure" was at most a super-enhanced personal opportunity.
It might stir up a few small ripples, but to elevate it to national strategic level? He didn't think he had that kind of weight, and he instinctively resisted the kind of tightly controlled life where he would lose all autonomy.
Not to ntion all those novel plots where after handing things over, the protagonist becos powerless. He had read too many and was tired of them.
"Do your own things yourself, walk your own path. Not causing trouble for the country is the best way to cooperate."
He silently set his tone.
This road of traveling between two worlds — he would walk it alone.
Risks borne by himself, profits enjoyed by himself.
Once "going solo" was decided, the specific plan beca clear.
First, clothing.
He couldn't keep wandering around King's Landing in modern casual wear. It was too eye-catching and the details could easily expose him.
"Cosplay outfits must be arranged."
Gritting his teeth at the pain, he spent another six hundred-plus on the shopping app and ordered two custom "Ga of Thrones" style outfits.
One was a pure black noble casual suit, without any house sigils, relying only on fine tailoring and a muted texture to look presentable — suitable for occasions where he needed to show face or enter the upper city.
The other was a light gray ranger outfit — belted waist, leg wraps, leather bracers. Neat and practical, easy to move in and inconspicuous, perfect for early exploration and dealing with the lower classes.
Next ca starting resources.
Selection criteria were clear: high value, easy to divide, no modern markings, small volu, good storage life.
Pinduoduo showed its power again.
He ordered fifty simple bamboo jars, ten jin of refined white sugar, ten jin of edible salt, and ten jin of rock sugar.
In a low-productivity dieval world, such snow-white fine sugar and salt were absolute hard currency.
He carefully divided the white sugar and salt into twenty-five bamboo jars, about two hundred grams each, and sealed them. The rock sugar was individually wrapped in oil paper.
In addition, he bought ten bottles of classic glass-bottled floral water, twenty bottles of essential balm (wind oil essence), and ten bottles of cheap generic perfu.
These things were worthless on Blue Star, but in Westeros, where dicine was scarce and insects rampant, they might produce miraculous effects.
He checked every bottle to make sure the labels were tearable paper stickers and the bottles only had simple patterns, leaving no Chinese or English words.
All these supplies, along with the two decent fruit knives he had reluctantly bought, were partly stuffed into a deliberately aged gray backpack. The rest were stored in his personal space.
Ti seed to stand still inside the space, and access was instant — perfectly solving preservation and concealnt issues.
Three days later, early morning, just as the sky began to brighten.
Luke changed into the light gray ranger outfit. The fabric was thicker than expected. After moving around a bit, it felt quite agile.
He put on the similarly aged backpack containing five jars of white sugar, five jars of salt, the pack of rock sugar, two bottles of floral water with labels torn off, and all the wind oil essence.
He checked himself thoroughly again, ensuring there were no texts, logos, or anachronistic traces from Blue Star.
Deep breath. Focus.
This ti, the chosen landing point was a back alley near the edge of Flea Bottom, close to the old city gate.
There was less garbage there and fewer people.
The weightless feeling arrived as expected.
However, the mont his figure solidified and his feet touched the rough ground of the other world —
"Ouch!"
A startled cry exploded from behind him, followed by a solid impact.
Luke staggered, nearly falling, while hearing a heavy thud and a pained groan.
He whipped his head around and saw a ragged beggar, stinking of sour filth, sprawled on the ground a few steps away. A broken bowl was crushed beneath him, and several dark copper coins rolled across the ground.
The beggar was also stunned. Rubbing his lower back, he stared at Luke with wide eyes, as if he had seen a ghost.
He clearly rembered the alley was empty when he looked back just monts ago!
Luke's heart clenched tight, adrenaline surging wildly.
In a flash, he realized: Big trouble!
He had been seen appearing out of thin air!
He absolutely could not let the man think too much, and definitely could not let him shout!
Strike first — the only strategy flashing in Luke's mind.
He instantly put on an angry and shocked expression and, regardless of whether the other understood, unleashed a barrage of furious English:
"Fuck! Watch where you're going, you blind fool!"
"Damn it! Look what you've done!"
"Are you trying to rob ? Huh?"
While cursing, he aggressively patted nonexistent dust off his clothes, glaring fiercely. At the sa ti, he turned his body slightly and rested his hand casually near his waist.
A fruit knife was hidden there.
The beggar was completely intimidated by the sudden outburst.
Already feeling guilty for "bumping into soone," and seeing the other party dressed decently with an aggressive aura and fierce (though strange) words, he subconsciously concluded he had collided with a dangerous outsider — a rcenary, adventurer, or fallen noble.
He no longer cared how the man had suddenly appeared. His only thought was to escape quickly.
"S-sorry, my lord! Sorry! I didn't see! Forgive !"
The beggar scrambled up in panic, not even bothering to pick up the scattered copper coins. Bowing and scraping, he half-ran, half-crawled toward the other end of the alley and disappeared around the corner in the blink of an eye.
Only after the figure completely vanished and the alley returned to silence did Luke finally let out a long breath. The cold sweat that had been delayed now broke out all over his back, soaking his inner clothes.
He leaned against the cold stone wall, heart pounding like a drum. It took quite a while for it to calm down.
"Too close…"
He muttered two words, a wave of lingering fear crawling up his spine.
This accident was a loud alarm bell.
Randomly crossing in the middle of the street carried too much risk!
This ti it was a timid beggar. What if next ti he appeared right in front of a Gold Cloak patrol, or bumped into so desperate thug?
He needed to find a relatively safe and hidden base in this world as soon as possible.
A small foothold where he could appear and disappear calmly, store supplies, and even conduct initial trades and gather intelligence.
Looking around, although this back alley was currently empty, it was definitely not a place to linger.
He steadied his breathing, adjusted his backpack, and strode toward the distance.
A safe base — besides completing the first trade, this was now the most urgent goal.
The shadows of King's Landing silently spread beneath his feet.
And Luke's journey of survival and gold-seeking in the other world had begun, hasty yet inevitable, in this unexpected collision and bluffing scolding.
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