Code Collector

Popularity is essential. Allen had carved those words in stone. He was going to gain popularity by any methods he can.

After he traded Codes to the Skill Altar, he now felt even stronger. His body was light, his grip was strong, and even his facial features looked like they were carved by angels.

A huge factor in his strength was the large amounts of skill points given to him by the system. His level was below twenty, but it was as though he was twice that level by how many his skill points were.

Normally, you'd only get a few by leveling up a couple of levels or exchange some with Codes, but that was it. Unlike him who could have a Code in a lot of beasts he hunt, the other Hunters didn't have that luxury.

Even the rich people wouldn't easily exchange Codes for skill points considering a couple of Basic grades could already buy yourself a house in Earth. For them, it wasn't worth it.

That is, if your family was really wealthy that you could invest millions of dollars for Codes and skill points.

"Rumors," Allen whispered to himself while he was sitting at the coffee shop. He wanted to know where most of the rumors in town would breed. If he can find the source, then he can slid The Wandering Trader's rumors into that breeding den and let it flow around the camp like a river.

Allen was thinking so much. He was thinking on a lot of places. The city centre, the Skill Altar temple, even the social groups in their camp. Just when he was about to randomly choose one of these places, a thought came inside his head.

"The farmer's market."

Albeit the town was almost in isolation due to the food poisoning case, the flea market was still flooded with people. Though the vendors weren't selling fresh produce, they were still selling counterfeit brands from earth and fake Hunter equipment.

The police couldn't catch them all because they all pays underground taxes to the police in exchange for their freedom to sell. This was one of the many changes Allen wants to do. To cleanse everything.

With the number of people here, he could let a little word from one vendor, and they will do the rest. In places like this, the vendors doesn't have much to do other than gossip. Their jobs was sell, and it's not all the time that they have customers. What would they do while the don't have anyone to sell to?

That's right. Gossip.

This made Allen excited. His plan was to buy a clothing or accessory similar to the rumors of The Wandering Trader. The most common would be the mask, so he looked for a vendor who has the mask.

"The butchers definitely did it this time."

"I heard the poison was from a pesticide."

"What are the police doing? There's a lot of people dying!"

…

As he walked across that one single street filled with stalls, he could hear every rumor that goes around town. Some were pathetic like pregnant women while some were serious like missing Hunters.

A couple of minutes later, he saw a vendor that was selling what exactly he was looking for. Masks.

The stall had a folding bed that he used to display counterfeit clothes while there was a stand on the back. It was a wooden frame covered with a black cloth where he hungs the mask.

The stall of this person looked just like most stalls in this street. And they all have almost the same products that they sell. It was a marvel how they still earn from it.

He walked over to the old man who was reading a newspaper upside down. He stared at him, clearing his throat a couple of times, but it seemed like the man couldn't hear him.

"Uhm, excuse me sir," Allen tried to speak, but he was ignored. He could only scratch his head and wonder why this was happening. "Sir?"

He placed his hand on the newspaper, and it dropped to the ground. The man was snoring loudly, his eyeglasses falling to his chest while his head fell in front of him.

"Sir?"

The man jolted awake, scurrying to fix himself up. "Oh, s'rry young man. What can I do for 'ya?"

The old man had a thick accent on him that Allen could barely understand what he was saying. "S'rry. I fell asleep. See, there's not a lotta customers at this time aft'r the poisonin' incident."

He just looks old, but he was updated on the gossips in town. Just what Allen needed.

"Oh, is that so?" Allen said innocently. "Well, I'd like to buy one of your masks."

"Masks, eh?" the old man glanced at his stall, looking at the masks displayed. "Oh, danggit. Where's my manners. Me name's Jack, and I am the owner of this li'l ol' stall. But it ain't Halloween, ain't it? Why buy a mask?"

Allen paused for a moment. He knew the man was talkative, but he never anticipated for him to ask such question. "Oh, I just want to scare a friend. That's all."

"Ah, the power of friendship," Jack snorted. "Y'know what else is scary? A man in the streets assaultin' young ladies."

This was the moment Allen was waiting for. He was about to ask Jack about The Wandering Trader when he gets the mask, but it seemed like the old man beat him to it. He was really in a breeding den for gossip.

"Oh," Allen faked formed an O with his mouth. "I have heard of him, but it wasn't all clear."

"Then you're in luck, my boy," Jack grinned. "I know everythin' 'bout that masked man."

"Yes, old man. You'll be my vessel to gain popularity," Allen said in his mind. In the surface, he just leaned in as if he was interested in hearing what the man has to say.

"That man is a pris'ner from Earth that became a Hunt'r here," Jack whispered. "From what I heard from my li'l birdies, the man was a high-profile ex-convict."

"That's really interesting," Allen wanted to snort in laughter after hearing this. He was really amused by how much gossip travels, and how many times they morphed from one person to another.

You could say that a girl was seen with her boyfriend and the gossip that returns to you is that the girl was pregnant. It was so silly, but amusing.

"He became a Hunt'r 'cause his wife died and the wife said somethin' in the lines of wanting him to do good," Jack continued. "So, he started doin' justice work from the streets, startin' from the Smith Girls who're known as the sluts who sleep 'round married men."

It was then where Allen saw how much The Wandering Trader's reputation will rise. All he has to do now was make one single move, and his clients will flood to him.