Jing Yuan stared at the knife for a moment, then only gave a faint smile.
Such a weapon was… truly unique.
Yanqing lifted his head just enough to glance at it, then returned to lovingly polishing his [Massacre Ruler]. He silently thanked the stars—even if his weapon was a "lady's greatsword," it was still infinitely more dignified than marching into battle brandishing a kitchen knife.
The two of them quietly observed the scene, while Feixiao's expression was far more dramatic.
She was no pampered lady with hands unsoiled by kitchen work.
On the contrary, with Jiaoqiu—that meddlesome physician—often fussing over ingredients and cooking, she had learned far more about foodstuffs and utensils than most.
And truth be told, this cleaver had a thick spine, a fine edge, excellent steel, and under sunlight its blade reflected an image as clear as a mirror. It was exactly the kind of knife any chef would dream of.
But could such a thing truly be worthy of the blue-grade Curio tier?
Or worse—what if it really was that powerful? Did that mean she was supposed to carry this into battle?
Win or lose, she would still be mocked into the grave. Even hacking her enemies into eight neat pieces might not quell her fury.
And if her own troops saw it?
Picture it: General Feixiao locked in a three-hundred-round duel, the armies of the Alliance watching in breathless silence. For the final blow, she draws forth her ultimate weapon.
The blade blazes dazzlingly, fierce and cold, wreathed in cosmic light. Majestic, terrifying—a cleaver!
Feixiao pressed her fingers to her forehead. If that ever happened, her soldiers wouldn't know whether to cheer or call for a physician. They'd think her Moon Rage had flared and she'd lost all reason—couldn't even tell a cleaver from a sword.
Her authority would plummet straight off a cliff.
She shot an exasperated glare at Sylvester. Couldn't he at least have made it a dagger? Why in the cosmos fashion a cleaver? Was she supposed to dice vegetables between killing blows?
That was far too laid-back. Who would even eat a dish cooked with a battlefield weapon? Just looking at it would ruin one's appetite.
"Tch." Feixiao clicked her tongue. Fine then—if it really counted as a weapon, she'd give it to Moze. His combat style was all sneak attacks anyway; nobody would notice what blade he used.
Yes, that would do.
Sylvester, seeing her conflicted face, realized at once she had misunderstood.
But truth be told, this knife was extraordinary.
He cleared his throat and said solemnly: "This blade is called the [Eternal Spirit Knife]. It is a supreme-grade cooking utensil."
"Whew~" Feixiao immediately relaxed, relief washing over her.
Thank the heavens it wasn't a weapon.
Still, she eyed the cleaver curiously. If it was only a kitchen tool, how could it rank as blue-tier? No matter how sharp, it was still just for chopping food. What could possibly elevate it so high?
Seeing her doubts fade, Sylvester explained slowly: "It is said this was forged by a legendary ancient chef named Shuri, from a meteorite that fell from the heavens. It contains a faint trace of conceptual power. Even ingredients that have lost their freshness, once touched by this knife, can regain their peak flavor."
Feixiao's eyes lit with understanding. "So that's it! That does deserve the title of a supreme utensil—and a blue-tier Curio."
She had heard Jiaoqiu ramble countless times about the importance of freshness, how food had but a few golden hours before quality decayed.
And though cooking was never her passion, she knew well the nature of life-force. Even Abundant scions, once their bodies and heads were separated for too long, would succumb to decay. Aside from a rare few powerful individuals, no reunion could reverse that rot.
But this knife could reverse decline—not preserve, but undo!
That was truly awe-inspiring.
If she gave it to Jiaoqiu, he would surely adore it.
Perhaps he'd even toss aside that fan of his and wave the cleaver about instead.
Of course, he was far too shrewd for such antics. But the image was too funny not to imagine.
Tucking the cleaver away, she had already resolved to gift it to her aide.
Turning back to Sylvester, she asked, "I've opened twenty cans in total now, haven't I?"
He nodded. "Correct. Just thirty more, and you'll unlock the Bountiful Trash Can. Its Curios are richer, and the odds of rare finds are much higher."
And more importantly, once someone opened a Grand Trash Can for the first time, he would gain another ability.
Feixiao moved toward the rest area, addressing Jing Yuan: "Well then, General Jing Yuan, you must be getting impatient. Please."
"Impatient? Not quite." Jing Yuan rose, stepping toward the shelves with amused interest. "But I am feeling a little itchy-handed. Watching both colleague and disciple leave with such spoils, if I get nothing, my reputation will be in tatters."
Feixiao lounged back, crossing her legs, calmly biting into a snack without acknowledging his banter.
Sylvester drained his cup and chuckled: "Does General Jing Yuan really doubt his own fortune so much? And even if it's all greens, no shame in that. It could be worse—some have drawn black Curios before."
"True enough." Jing Yuan nodded, choosing the can in the very center. He lifted the lid.
Green light faded. In his hand appeared a heavy, ironclad clock.
Its face was dim beneath thick glass, but even at a glance one could tell that glass was harder than most steel.
With his practiced eye, Jing Yuan judged instantly: its defense surpassed even his formation blade.
But why would a mere clock need such fortification?
He turned to Sylvester. "And this means… what?"
Reading its entry, Sylvester couldn't help but grin. "The [Early-Bird Cuckoo Clock]. At the appointed hour, it crows for a full quarter hour, utterly unstoppable. Its defense can withstand the all-out strike of any being below an Arbiter-General. Truly the bane of late sleepers."