"General Feixiao, what are you laughing at?"
Yanqing had been fully absorbed in studying the training notes Feixiao had given him. The cover alone—How to Build Muscles Like Watermelons—made his eyes shine like treasures. Reading further into the content, he was thrilled.
As expected of the Vanquishing General's personal training manual, truly extraordinary.
He was savoring it with deep concentration when Feixiao's laughter rang out.
She was laughing so freely… could it be that Master had just obtained some priceless treasure again?
Yanqing looked at his Master's hand but saw nothing new.
Wasn't that still the same alarm clock as before?
Perplexed, he raised his head and asked, "General, just now…"
Before he could finish, Jing Yuan cut him off. "Children shouldn't meddle in adults' affairs."
"Uh, but…" Yanqing's confusion deepened. His Master had never treated him this way before, even when there were confidential matters.
He turned toward Feixiao with a hint of grievance. "General Feixiao, what exactly—"
"Yanqing!" Jing Yuan barked before he could finish.
Not him. Anyone else in this room, fine—they were peers. A laugh, a shrug, and it'd pass. But not the boy.
A disciple who rose at dawn to practice his sword, only to learn his Master lingered in dreams?
Unthinkable. If this came out, his dignity would be ruined. In a few years, when Yanqing hit his rebellious phase, he'd never let him live it down.
Absolutely not.
Jing Yuan softened his tone, a gentle smile returning. "Yanqing, tell me—what's the very first entry in General Feixiao's manual?"
"Oh, let me see…"
Yanqing flipped to the opening section, completely unaware of the danger creeping closer. He recited dutifully: "Wake up early every day, begin with 30km of aerobic training, then—"
Before he could finish, Jing Yuan clapped his hands and pointed toward the door. "Excellent! A plan is worthless if not executed. Yanqing, to train your discipline, you'll begin now. Off you go—30km first."
Yanqing froze. "But, General… it's not morning anymore."
Jing Yuan nodded sagely. "Simple enough. Make up for it all at once. What comes after the aerobics?"
"Uh… sixty sets of strength training, and then… by noon, there's also…" Yanqing stammered through the list.
Jing Yuan's smile broadened. "Very good. Then begin at once, exactly as written. I'll inspect your progress before dusk."
"General, maybe I could start tomorrow—" Yanqing begged, baffled at what he had done wrong.
But Jing Yuan drawled, "Yanqing, these blue-stone floors are very precious. As for your two new flying swords next month…"
"I'll go right now!" At those words, Yanqing shot up from his chair like a spring and bolted out without looking back.
Watching his disciple vanish in a blur, Jing Yuan exhaled and regained his calm composure.
"Shopkeeper Sylvester, forgive the boy's laziness. Should there be an opportunity, please offer him some guidance."
The words sounded humble and polite, but Sylvester understood their true meaning immediately: Don't spill the truth to Yanqing.
He had no interest in gossip anyway, so he simply replied, "I'm but a merchant who sells trash cans. Matters of combat aren't my specialty—better left to you, General."
Jing Yuan, satisfied by his assurance, nodded. "My thanks, Shopkeeper Sylvester."
"You two really are too much." Feixiao couldn't hold it in anymore. All this just to cover for sleeping in?
The room only held three insiders now, yet they were still speaking in riddles as if it lent them depth.
But Jing Yuan and Sylvester said in unison, serious-faced: "Walls may have ears. One cannot be too careful."
Then they looked at each other again.
Why are you copying me?
"Just open the cans already." Feixiao pressed her hand to her forehead, utterly speechless.
She had heard people say that men remain boys until the end of their days. But she had never expected this kind of boyishness. Between them and Yanqing, she wasn't sure whose mental age was closer to an actual adult.
Jing Yuan moved to the shelves. He didn't bother choosing—they were all his anyway—and simply took the nearest can.
The lid came off, revealing green light.
A memory bubble lay in his hand.
His interest stirred. He had heard of such things before: memories of doctors, engineers—instant expertise contained in a sphere. Even a green one might hold some value.
"[Memory Bubble of Colonel Harland Sanders]."
Sylvester chuckled. "A top fried chicken chef. He earned an honorary colonel's rank through his cooking, and his fried chicken became famous across his planet. This will grant you his culinary skills."
Jing Yuan blinked.
It was… respectable, yes, but utterly useless to him. None of his Cloud Knights needed such a thing. They weren't about to set up a food stall on the street.
Jing Yuan's Fried Chicken, fair trade guaranteed?
It rolled off the tongue… but no, useless was useless.
Sylvester, on the other hand, thought it perfectly fitting. He hid a grin, a tune echoing in his head.
Crazy Thursday…
Jing Yuan pondered, then said to Feixiao, "Your strategist has a taste for such things, does he not? Consider it a token, a return gift for that hotpot meal."
He tossed the bubble to Feixiao.
"Thanks." She caught it smoothly, weighing it in her hand.
Lucky Jiaoqiu, she thought. A top-grade kitchen knife, and now a chef's memory bubble—two generals gifting him treasures from the trash cans.
Jing Yuan cared little for the million credits lost and turned to the next can.
He remembered Feixiao's streak: out of ten, seven had been green, interrupted only by the blue and golden rarities. By comparison, six straight greens for him would hardly be unusual.
Better this way. Less expectation, less disappointment.
He lifted another lid. Again, green light.
This time he didn't even need Sylvester's explanation.
A dark-brown pill, roughly rolled, sat in his palm.
[Great Rejuvenation Pill]. He knew it well—a cheap product hawked by a minor apothecary in the Alchemy Commission. Its effect was so weak it couldn't even match an average Xianzhou native's natural recovery. It only fooled offworld tourists.
So notorious were the complaints that even he had heard of it.
A million credits for this… now that was a true loss.
Fortunately, he'd braced himself, and accepted it calmly.
He shook his head and moved to the next can.
At this point, even a Lesser Rejuvenation Pill would be tolerable.
But as the ancients said: Plant a flower deliberately, and it won't bloom. Drop a willow branch by chance, and it takes root.
When one's expectations hit rock bottom, fate sometimes slipped in a gift.
He opened the next can. Blue light spilled out.
At once, his attention sharpened. Just one grade above green, yes—but with Feixiao's stellar detector as precedent, even a blue Curio could not be dismissed.
The glow faded.
A head-sized egg landed in his hand, shell adorned with colorful markings. A closer look showed the hues were natural, not painted.
[Koromon's Digi-Egg:upon being touched, it would bond with the holder. By tomorrow, a Koromon would hatch.]
Sylvester froze for a moment.
He had nearly forgotten. After selling 100 cans, the system had unlocked the "living beings" category.
And Jing Yuan had just hit the jackpot with the very first of its kind.