NEC Chapter 4: Support from the Motherland

The prolonged overuse of mental strength left Chen Mo with a splitting headache.

The pain was indescribable, unbearable, like someone sawing open his skull, prying it apart, and sprinkling in peppercorns, mustard, salt, and fennel, then stirring it with a stick.

Biologically, the brain has no pain nerves, but Chen Mo was convinced it would hurt like hell.

After resting for who knows how long, he finally began to recover.

He felt the altar’s response.

The summoning succeeded. From now on, he was a man with backing, no need to push himself so hard!

From a dilapidated cabinet with only a door and base left, he grabbed a handful of glowing stones and tossed them into an old lampstand. By its faint light, Chen Mo opened his mystery box.

No, not a mystery box, but a eagerly awaited newbie gift package from his motherland.

At the top of the package, pinned prominently, was a piece of paper.

Chen Mo carefully unfolded it. It was a handwritten letter, the opening line boldly stating:

“Comrade Chen Mo, greetings!” A surge of warmth flooded his heart.

They called me comrade!

The letter was brief, written in elegant, slightly scrawled running script, each stroke brimming with the writer’s excitement.

“Your letter has been received. Thank you for your trust in the motherland!

Far from home, countless miles away, prioritize your safety above all. Preserve your life for the future.

Due to time constraints, the supplies sent may not be comprehensive, but we hope they aid you.

There are three attachments: First, a list of materials and usage instructions. Read them thoroughly and familiarize yourself with their operation.

Second, suggestions based on your described situation, for reference only. Adapt as needed.

Third, experimental steps to measure your world’s gravitational constant, atmospheric density, and other metrics, with a table of weapon parameters for different conditions. Use them cautiously.

No matter the challenges, persevere. East Xia’s billions of compatriots are your steadfast support!

We look forward to your next contact!

East Xia, Donghuang Tianshu.”

Chen Mo carefully folded the letter and set it aside with reverence.

This was now his household treasure.

Next, he opened the item list.

In his wildest hopes, the bloodline sacrifice would bring a gun, giving him a fighting chance against mid- to high-tier apprentices.

But before this, he wasn’t sure if the altar could connect to East Xia, or how, or who would see his letter. So, he hadn’t dared specify requests, only describing his world’s environment and his troubles.

East Xia’s central command had thought far more thoroughly than he had.

The altar’s transmission had limits. For a beginner like Chen Mo, even with the mental strength pill, the total weight of transportable goods was about fifteen kilograms.

Fortunately, the altar was user-friendly: if the load exceeded capacity, the beacon flashed red.

East Xia had maximized the limit, sending a carefully curated batch of supplies.

The list was divided into four parts.

The first was weapons, weighing 9.6 kilograms, nearly two-thirds of the total.

One QBZ-95-1 automatic rifle, with two standard magazines of sixty rounds and ninety loose rounds.

One QSZ-92G pistol, with one standard magazine of fifteen rounds and thirty loose rounds.

The rifle’s dual magazines ensured a quick swap after emptying a clip, with loose rounds for reloading in safety, minimizing extra magazine weight.

Every detail was meticulous.

Beside the firearms were two micro remote-controlled patch bombs and four grenades: two thermite grenades, one Type 59 offensive egg grenade, and one Type 82-2 plastic shrapnel defensive grenade.

The manual detailed their efficacy, usage, storage, and precautions clearly.

Chen Mo’s hand grazed the cold metal of the weapons, like caressing a lover’s waist, utterly entranced.

Reluctantly, he moved on to unpack the rest.

The second part was a protective and medical module, weighing 2.02 kilograms.

It included a Type 19 stab-proof vest with front and back plates.

A tactical medical kit containing two epinephrine pens, three rapid clotting dressings, a vacuumsealed tourniquet, a pack of slow-release anti-infection pills, and a trauma stapler.

Curious, Chen Mo picked up the stapler, realizing it was a specialized staple gun.

It could seal a wound in a second, though the scar might not be pretty.

The third part was a survival accessory module, weighing 1.82 kilograms.

Six aerospace-grade high-energy compressed biscuits and ten packets of electrolyte drink mix.

A foldable soft water bladder with a detachable hose filter on one side and twenty military-grade purification tablets clipped to the other.

With this, he could filter drinkable water even from the Dead Sea.

Next, a pair of Kevlar cut-resistant gloves.

A Beidou tactical watch with a digital compass.

A QTS-11 individual combat visor with night vision.

A lightweight solar charging panel.

A magnesium alloy fire starter.

A carbon fiber wire saw.

An emergency whistle.

And a single-sided reflective rescue cloth sealing the package.

Chen Mo felt like he’d opened a legendary treasure chest, with blue, orange, and dark gold gear stats popping up above his head.

It was the feeling of being backed by a cheat code, invincible under the heavens.

There was one last part: an emergency assurance module.

Twenty five-gram gold leaf sheets.

Another letter and a handheld mini-player.

The letter and video in the player conveyed the same message in text, speech, and gestures.

A message for strangers.

“Dear respected guest, greetings!

Comrade Chen Mo, bearer of this letter, is an important member of East Xia. If he faces danger near you, we earnestly request your aid and support.

Should you provide necessary assistance, East Xia will be deeply grateful and willing to offer any reasonable compensation.

Please protect our citizen. He knows how to contact us. Relay your requests through him, and we will do our utmost to fulfill them.

Our sincere thanks again!”

At the letter’s bottom was a blank space.

A note instructed Chen Mo to translate the East Xia text into the local language for clarity.

Below that, the national emblem paired with a vivid red state seal.

Undoubtedly, this was East Xia’s insurance policy for him.

Chen Mo slowly bowed, pressing the emblem to his forehead.

Before this, he’d tried everything.

But he had no solutions.

He’d distanced himself from that tea-playing girl, even considered groveling to the hostile senior apprentice.

He’d sought help from his mentor’s assistant, risked contacting higher-tier underworld lords.

He’d even contemplated the fabled evil god sacrifice.

Embarrassingly, even if he were willing to offer his conscience and soul, he couldn’t find a way.

The only formal apprentice who’d spared him advice said evil gods weren’t scavengers.

At his level, useful gods ignored him, and those who didn’t were likely frauds.

Desperate, Chen Mo had staked everything on seeking help from his motherland.

He’d succeeded.

He’d asked for a weapon; she’d given him a world.

His eyes stung uncontrollably.

Hurriedly setting the letter aside, Chen Mo bit his lip. In the dim glow of the dark cellar, tears slid silently down his cheeks.

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