"Don't touch that so carelessly. Could you even afford it if you scratched it?"
Just then, a woman stepped out of the Porsche and glared at Ethan Chen, her voice sharp and condescending.
"You drive that junk heap and dare to lay a finger on my car?"
Ethan's expression darkened. The woman looked to be in her early forties, fashionably dressed and clearly not lacking in confidence—or attitude. He hadn't expected such an aggressive outburst over something so trivial.
"Ridiculous..." he muttered, rolling his eyes and preparing to leave. Getting into arguments with people like her just wasn't worth the time.
"What did you just say to me?!"
Unfortunately, the woman had good ears. She stormed up to him, eyes blazing, clearly furious.
"Go on, say it again if you've got the guts!"
"Sabi," Ethan repeated calmly, obliging her demand. It was a slang insult, and he didn't care if she understood it or not.
"You little punk!" she snapped and actually raised her hand to slap him.
"You've got to be kidding me," Ethan muttered, dodging her slap with ease. In return, he backhanded her, knocking the brimmed hat off her head.
"You... You hit me?!" she gasped, shocked. Her hands trembled as she pointed at him, yelling, "My husband is the Director of Public Security! You'll regret this!"
"Yeah, sure," Ethan said with a smirk. "You're insane." In this Marvel-infused version of the world, random violence was practically a background noise. People like her were lucky to be in China. If she tried pulling this kind of stunt in the U.S., she'd probably have ended up in the ER—or worse—by now.
"You'll regret this!" she shouted again as Ethan walked away. He didn't even glance back as she pulled out her phone and started making calls, probably to her powerful husband.
———
Inside the shooting range, Ethan paid the entrance fee and headed in, eager to get started. Compared to dealing with that unhinged woman, even getting bruised by recoil sounded like a good time.
"Ugh, that woman must've caked on a pound of makeup..." he muttered in disgust while wiping his hand with a tissue.
After checking in, a coach was assigned to Ethan for safety and guidance. In China, gun ownership was illegal, and even firing a gun was restricted to licensed shooting ranges. Most visitors were there for the novelty, not serious training.
His coach was a tall, muscular man named Mou Gang, a retired soldier. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the impressive lineup of firearms Ethan had ordered.
"Kid, with this many guns, your hands are going to be swollen by the time you're done," Mou said with a half-laugh.
Behind Ethan was a long table covered in firearms—mostly military-grade weapons from the U.S. and Europe: M4s, M16s, AKs, P92s, revolvers, and more. Over ten different guns and hundreds of rounds of ammunition were laid out in neat rows.
With the recoil those weapons produced, Mou had a point—most people would be sore after just a few rounds.
"It's fine," Ethan replied with a glint in his eye. "Just here to have some fun."
Mou shrugged. "Your money, your call. Which one do you want to try first?"
Ethan pointed to a classic AK-47 at the edge of the table. "That one. It's everywhere in video games."
"Alright, this is the bolt. Before you fire, make sure to—"
Of course, Ethan's real motive wasn't just recreational shooting. He was here for research. His Huaqiangbei System could analyze weapons from a distance, but the data it gathered that way wasn't detailed enough. Without a full scan, he'd only get lower-grade results—knockoff versions.
And Ethan didn't want to make knockoffs.
He had access to a powerful tech system, and his goal was to improve upon the originals—to make gear better than what already existed. That's why he had to be here in person, touching and firing each gun.
Mou, meanwhile, didn't know any of this. He just saw another city kid enjoying himself and guided him through the proper steps. Ethan fired away enthusiastically, absorbing every detail.
Thanks to the system, the analysis and production happened simultaneously. Hundreds of rounds flew downrange in quick succession. While Ethan was shooting, he'd already reproduced two fully functional weapons and stored them in the system's private inventory: a SCAR rifle and an M4.
The Huaqiangbei system was impressive. It required no raw materials to manufacture items, and the internal storage was seemingly limitless. As long as something was produced using the system, it could be stored without any restrictions.
And now, while still finishing up the range session, Ethan also initiated an R&D upgrade on the M4.
"Alright, time to take a break," Mou said, watching Ethan stretch his hands. "You've probably got some bruising by now. Might be a while before you're gripping a steering wheel again."
Ethan winced and nodded. His hands, especially his right one, were definitely sore. His wrist had even begun to swell a little. "Yeah… good idea."
"There's a rest area over there. Go grab a drink and let your hands recover," Mou added.
"Thanks."
Ethan headed toward the lounge, flexing his sore fingers. The pain was manageable, but it reminded him how unfit his body was for combat or prolonged exertion.
He sighed. Too weak physically.
Then a thought struck him.
"Hey, Xiao Ai," he asked the system's AI assistant, "can the system recreate Captain America's super soldier serum?"
"There's no tech item the Huaqiangbei System can't replicate!" Xiao Ai replied proudly.
"So… if I can get close enough to Captain America, I can potentially analyze and reproduce the Super Soldier Serum?"
Ethan's eyes lit up with renewed excitement. If he could acquire that, he wouldn't just be producing weapons—he could enhance the soldiers themselves. A new wave of elite warriors. A real shot at defending the nation from Marvel-level threats.
"Captain America... Marvel's famous '50-50' guy," Ethan murmured with a grin.
This was only the beginning.