Chapter Fifty: My Surname Is Boretta

Living Flame was an alchemist belonging to the second True Name lineage of the ancient Creators. He was capable of steadily crafting Tier 2 alchemical creations and could even produce Tier 3 ones. Meanwhile, the other two members of the gathering were merely first-tier True Name alchemical researchers who would struggle even to create a Tier 2 item. This was precisely what set Living Flame apart and made him superior.

Ethan’s requirements were simple: for his own firearm, he needed sufficient stopping power and a high ammunition capacity—unlimited ammunition would be ideal, of course.

Naturally, the possibility of unlimited ammunition was extremely low.

Otherwise, Living Flame wouldn't be hanging around a place like this.

As expected, upon hearing Ethan’s request, Living Flame scoffed: "If I really had that kind of ability, I would have joined the Royal Research Society long ago; why would I still be here? However, I can install a limited property on your gun, bringing the magazine capacity up to one hundred and fifty rounds. That should be enough, right?"

Although this fellow had a sharp tongue, he considered his client's needs rather thoroughly.

"How about this: throw in another wagon of fine liquor, and I’ll gift you an 'Indestructible' property. How does that sound?"

"I'll give you five more wagons. In exchange, I want three Tier 3 alchemical creations."

Liquor was the one thing Ethan had in abundance, whereas alchemical creations were rare treasures encountered only by chance.

If he weren't worried about disrupting his supply chain, he would have offered even more.

"Deal."

Living Flame’s breathing had already grown ragged.

It was evident that he was indeed an old drunkard; with liquor involved, anything could be discussed.

Even though Ethan had practically asked for the moon by demanding three alchemical creations.

Next came the discussion of details, and Ethan handed his blueprints directly to Living Flame.

He had already drawn the blueprints before coming. For the gun, he used the design of the Colt M1911; as for Velen’s prosthetic limb, he chose a style reminiscent of the Terminator.

Originally, he had only intended to make one gun for himself, but seeing how fanatically devoted to alcohol Living Flame was, he decided to make one for Anya as well, saving her the trouble of buying one elsewhere.

After examining the blueprints, Living Flame nodded repeatedly and said, "You have quite a bit of artistic talent, these designs are all very aesthetic. Can we collaborate in the future? I can give you a discount."

Ethan hadn't expected this fellow to be an aesthetic enthusiast on top of being a drunkard.

"Deal." Ethan reached out and shook his hand.

Following that, the two of them discussed the specific method and timing of the transaction, basically finalizing the arrangement.

In a month's time, Ethan would receive his items, and before that, he needed to deliver the three wagons of cargo first.

The delivery location was the city of Atasca.

This happened to be an advantageous location for Ethan; the fat merchant Sindorei still owed him a favor from the last shipment.

With the transaction concluded, the gathering was practically over.

No one was permitted to stay overnight on the boat, though even if they were allowed, hardly anyone would dare to.

Everyone departed in different directions.

Sitting back on the boat, Kray couldn't help complaining: "Why didn't you make one for me as well? I am your guide, after all."

"Next time for sure." This time, Ethan wasn't just exchanging polite pleasantries; Kray had indeed helped him a lot, and he would be willing to lend a hand if Kray had needs in the future.

After all, he had already established a partnership with Living Flame.

"I hope you mean that," Kray muttered somewhat skeptically.

Anya, sitting quietly in the corner, whispered a soft "thank you."

"What are you thanking him for? You're out here slaving away for this kid, and who knows, maybe this kid has his eyes on your body and just fobbed you off with a pistol?" Kray said with an air of righteous indignation.

As a result, Anya's next sentence left him utterly speechless, for she said, "Everything I am belongs to young master."

——————————

At the same moment.

Still at the Port of Winster.

A pier belonging to the Corleone family.

Hidden in the shadows, numerous Prohibition agents had already laid an ambush.

Leading them was none other than Lewis.

Having just received a tip today that a smuggling ship from the Old Continent belonging to the Corleone family would arrive tonight carrying plenty of fine liquor.

As the oldest mafia family in Winster, the Corleone family had deep roots in the city, while also maintaining close ties with the Old Continent.

Even after putting down roots in the New Continent for over a century, they still frequently kept in touch with their relatives back in their hometown of Mûrevert.

Not only did they return home every few years, but they also donated various supplies and engaged in charity to help their hometown folk.

This assistance also included regularly helping people from Mûrevert immigrate illegally into the Kingdom.

Naturally, such help was not without compensation; in exchange, their hometown had become the Corleone family's secondary base. It not only served as a sanctuary helping family members escape the law and pursuers, but it also functioned as the Corleone family's smuggling port. Over the years, they had utilized this port to smuggle a vast amount of scarce goods between the Old and New Continents.

And in this era, the scarcest commodity of all was liquor.

Since Mûrevert was a renowned winemaking region, Lewis estimated that this single ship of cargo would translate into an immensely bountiful merit.

In the shadows, he rubbed his alchemical prosthetic limb, eager to spring into action.

Although he could not move against the Poleta family for the time being, everything was already underway in secret.

Waiting only for a sufficiently good opportunity.

For now, he would whet his appetite with another family.

Waiting.

Time slipped away quietly.

Until late into the night, when people were approaching their most exhausted hours.

Finally, there was movement out on the sea.

As a few piercing beams of light crossed, the signal had been answered.

A ship was quietly pulling into the shore.

Through the intersecting lights, one could discern that this was a large vessel.

Lewis did not act in haste; he waited until the ship docked and began unloading cargo before he abruptly charged out with his men.

"Prohibition agents! Everyone put your hands on your heads and squat down!"

However, running a moonshine business nowadays was a desperate gamble; those Corleone family members were hardly going to obey obediently.

A chaotic melee broke out instantly.

Yet the Corleone family was ultimately not the Poleta family—they lacked those terrifying rapid-fire guns, and their combat strength was mediocre, causing them to be quickly surrounded and suppressed.

Just as Lewis felt the dust settling, a figure suddenly charged out, appearing to be a smuggled Mûrevert native from the ship.

This person possessed astonishing combat prowess; bullets could hardly hit him, and his strikes and kicks were ferocious, resembling a wild beast. Lewis's subordinates simply could not stop him.

In the end, Lewis had to step in personally, using the power of his True Name to freeze the man's momentum just enough to land a single shot on him.

Yet this man still rushed savagely right up to his face, nearly sinking his teeth into Lewis's neck.

Had several of his subordinates not rushed over immediately to pin the man down together, Lewis might not have been able to subdue him on his own strength alone.

When the light of the carriage lantern finally illuminated him, the man stood revealed—shaggy-bearded, with both his mind and body looking utterly exhausted to the limit.

Pointing his gun at the man's head, Lewis demanded sternly, "What is your name?"

The man merely chuckled, entirely unfazed by the firearm, and looked at Lewis with provocative eyes: "Officer, I advise you to watch that gun of yours, because the consequences of a misfire are quite severe. My surname... is Poleta."