Leveling Technology To Save Humanity-Chapter 76: A Strange Man Appears

Sokka gritted his teeth hatefully the more he thought of it.

Greed also flashed through his pupils when recalling the futuristic Defensive Spider bracelet the old woman owned. He had seen such bracelets on the wrist of the many passersby within the village. So were all those bracelets futuristic spiders too?

This... this changes everything.

Now, he not only wanted millions, but also wanted these bracelets, possibly 10... no 50 of them, so he can sell at high prices and brag about it.

Tsk.

If those bastards in his wealthy circle knew he possessed them, do you know how influential his current status will be?

Well–

’Everything starts with my dear cousin. The old hag might be difficult to maneuver, but Gort should be easier to handle.’ Finch Sokka concluded, biting his nails lost in thought.

For people who own companies, reputation can cause their shares to drop or rise.

A simple but well-thought Blackmail can make many wealthy people grow thin in a day. And believe him, Sokka was well versed in this aspect. He had dirt on quite a few wealthy ’friends’ of his.

So of course they made his life ’easier,’ not daring to touch him because of who his father is. freёweɓnovel.com

Hmph!

So what if he’s not favored? If you go against a member of the Finch Clan, you’re going against the Finch’s clan’s reputation and image.

With that, Merta’s group left Bimto’s residence, heading out of the Village’s main center, and driving into the only Hotel close to the toll gates. But Merta’s group wasn’t the first pair of greedy relatives to pay Geldhan village a visit.

These days, several people have been marching in like clowns, demanding to see their billionaire families.

Forget Relatives! What about friends?

Some people’s friends from far and wide, friends they haven’t even seen for 20 years, now popped out from the Woodworks.

"Hey, Old Basanta, do you remember me? I saw you thrice on your father’s fishing boat when you were younger! Your father brought you to our fishing village by canoe!"

"Hey, Jijung, do you remember that it’s because of me that you were even able to marry a wife back then? If I didn’t break up with your wife, would you have managed to win her over? So shouldn’t I get a compensation fee for bringing you both together?"

"Old Lady Klay, don’t pretend to be mute! I know you can hear me. When we were 5, I helped you braid your hair, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah."

People came out from all corners of the woodworks. And for a Monnet, the villagers began to wonder when they had ever had so many outside friends in their lives.

Where were these people when they were drowning in poverty, getting by with only the fruits of their labor to survive on?

Know that there were many times that they had no electricity at home, using torches and candles to go pay when their farm goods didn’t sell well at the county markets. Yes, the village was bubbling with activity, gossip and construction.

Many had long begun constructing villas beside their current homes. They felt that maybe they will later use their current homes as guest houses after their villas are built.

The speed of construction was also astronomical.

Everyone used 10 times more construction workers than usual for all construction projects.

Heck! They wanted everything built now!

With how many people worked, one would think they were building some government building or major structure like a hospital.

Whelp, everyone was out and about, looking forward to the completion of their new homes. But while the villagers and Gort busiest themselves daily, the same could be said for a particular set of people, now appearing in different international airports across Gwintia Country.

....

In Plaxia Airway, the airplane door opened with a hissing sound. Several passengers left the plane one by one.

The air was refreshingly cool, typical for indoor exit ways.

One by one, many passed. And among them, was a man with an expressionless face and dark shades. Only a few have ever seen his true appearance and moved to tell the tale.

For whoever he appears, one thing was certain—an impending storm was on its way.

Who was he? And why was he here?...

The Messenger, was what he was called—was ever the picture of elegance, wearing a tailored grey suit that contrasted sharply with the casual attire of other travelers. His polished leather shoes clicked softly against the floor, and his sharp eyes scanned the bustling airport environment.

"Feels like the slums already," he muttered to himself, adjusting his tie.

In his eyes, no place is better than his Kevian country.

Approaching the immigration desk, he was met by a young officer. "Good morning, sir. May I see your passport?"

"Sure," he replied smoothly, handing over his documents with a stoic expression. "What’s your reason for visiting?"

"Business." His body language alone said he wasn’t in the mood for long chitchats.

"Ah yes..." The officer hastily examined them briefly before nodding. Perhaps because of the man’s intoxicating aura, the officer didn’t want to speak to the man any longer. "Welcome back, Mr. Gama."

"Hmmm." The messenger replied with a nod. Mr. Gama was one of his many aliases.

As he moved through customs, the atmosphere was busy yet efficient. The low hum of conversations and announcements filled the air, blending with the occasional clatter of luggage carts.

Near the exit, an airport staff member approached him. The staff had a strange light flickering through his pupils.

"Excuse me, sir. Can I assist you with your luggage?"

"No need, thank you. I travel light," he replied, gesturing to his single briefcase.

"Good..." The staff member smirked and led him towards a tinted vehicle. "Sir, your transport awaits."

It was incredible how the big 3 had spies working in all international airports within Gwintia country.

Gama settled into the plush leather seat of the sleek black sedan.

Time to get down to business.