The wealthy merchant would stay in town for a day to conduct business. Qin Yu wasn’t in a hurry either. He strolled through the streets while turning the 100,000 herbs into potions.
One herb could yield three low-grade healing potions, two mid-grade, or one high-grade.
Low-grade sold for 3 gold each, mid-grade for 8, high-grade for 20.
Naturally, Qin Yu crafted all into high-grade potions. Selling 100,000 bottles at 15 gold each, after deducting the 300,000 gold cost, netted him 1.2 million. Qin Yu started with a solid 2 million gold in hand.
Truly, alchemy was a lucrative profession.
“You two, stop fighting over it…”
Qin Yu brought Silver Crimson Snow and Luna to the tailor shop—only to find them arguing again over white silk.
“I saw it first! What gives you the right to snatch it?”
“How dare a servant’s servant challenge your master’s master!”
Even the shopkeeper dared not intervene as the two girls squared off.
“My apologies. I’ll take all of it.”
With no choice, Qin Yu bought every bolt they’d quarreled over. The contested white silk? He kept it himself, to distribute later.
By the time they left, deep night had fallen. Time for the inn. Qin Yu booked a large room.
“Xiao Xue, can I sleep in the Bloodwood Coffin?”
“No!”
Bang!
The sealed Bloodwood Coffin stood upright against the wall.
“Tsk tsk… how pitiful.”
Luna smirked at Qin Yu. He turned to her with an unnervingly gentle smile—sending a chill down her spine.
“What do you want?”
A trace of unease flickered. Luna stepped back.
“What? Why, have you attend to me for the night, of course.”
Luna hadn’t realized: after mocking him, she held no power to defy Qin Yu. Whatever he commanded, she must obey.
Meanwhile, players flooded the main continent. Major guilds spent real cash to strike deals with negotiable Pantheon Realms, securing Territory Cores.
Within a week, territories rose. Their gold bought not just cores, but basic troop buildings too.
But nothing came that cheap. Weak factions soared with powerful patrons—until the patrons reclaimed everything. What then?
He saw the tower rise. Saw the feasts begin. Saw… the tower crumble.
Guilds, propped up by Pantheon Realms, waged wars with foreign troops. When harvest time came, they collapsed overnight.
Qin Yu had witnessed this too many times in his past life. He trusted no Pantheon Realm. Beneath that kind, generous facade lay cold truth: morality meant nothing before profit.
Morning light slipped through the curtain gaps. Qin Yu opened his eyes, slightly weary. Utterly drained—but from potion crafting, not *that*.
Luna was gone. In her place, Silver Crimson Snow slept peacefully.
“Hm?”
His clothes had been swapped for a butler’s uniform—identical to the one Silver Crimson Snow made him in his past life. She must have changed him while he slept.
“Where’s Luna?”
Unbeknownst to Qin Yu, Silver Crimson Snow had dragged Luna into the Bloodwood Coffin to keep her quiet. After a futile tantrum, Luna fell asleep—surprisingly comfortably.
“Damn it!”
Emerging, Luna clenched her tiny fists. Forced into a maid outfit.
Now… she was truly a servant.
Walking the streets, townsfolk saw a noble young lady with her refined butler and ill-mannered maid—a strange trio.
Silver Crimson Snow glowed with quiet joy. Qin Yu remained indifferent; he was used to it. Only Luna’s face darkened. Utter humiliation.
“Mister Qin Yu?”
The merchant blinked. *Butler attire? A disguise.* To make people overlook the real alchemist—Qin Yu—and focus on “Lady” Silver Crimson Snow.
“Check this potion. Selling at 15 gold—acceptable?”
Qin Yu tossed him a high-grade healing potion. The merchant inspected it, nodding eagerly.
“Absolutely!”
Ordinary merchants rarely sourced these. Even if they did, profit vanished at 16–18 gold. Qin Yu was doing him a massive favor.
“Once all 100,000 bottles are ready, I’ll deliver.”
“No problem!”
The merchant’s earlier gloom over wasting 800,000 gold on junk vanished completely.
Inside the town church…
A black-haired girl in beginner cleric robes stepped out, sighing softly as she walked away.
“Must I really go to the Holy Capital?”
She’d returned nearly empty-handed from the Sanctum of Radiance—outcompeted by wealthy players, barely earning a Grade B evaluation and a character template with Aptitude 5.
To become a true priestess and learn holy light healing magic, she *had* to reach the Holy Capital and join the Luminous Theocracy.
The local church offered basic healing skills—but demanded a 1,000-gold donation minimum.
She wasn’t a big spender. The game rig had drained her savings; she’d delayed entry by a day just to afford it. No funds left to spend.
Yet she felt no regret. Here… after so long… she could finally speak again.
Locals said the Holy Capital lay three days and nights away. Steeling herself, she set off—without food or water.
Clearly, she was still very much a newbie.
Back in town, Qin Yu’s group kept gathering supplies. Residents now recognized the odd trio: the elegant noble lady, the polished butler, the scowling maid.
What a strange combination…
