Picking Up the Goods

Hearing those words made Du Pont's heart skip a beat.

What was his greatest advantage as a transmigrator?

Sufficient modern knowledge.

Unfortunately, Du Pont had transmigrated to a magic-rich, high-magic world. In some ways, the convenience of magic even surpassed modern technology, rendering much of what he had learned useless. The idea of making money by creating white liquor or glass was basically out of the question.

However, even if this knowledge couldn't be directly applied, many things remained the same. For example, culinary arts, music, and painting – skill-based and artistic talents – still had their uses.

But making money with these things was difficult. There was an ancient saying that perfectly described Du Pont's current situation: A thousand-mile horse is common, but a discerning eye is rare.

Right now, this was a similar opportunity.

Du Pont put on an innocent expression: "Something challenging? Like monsters?"

"There are always jackals, wolves, and leopards in the mountains. You'll find out when the time comes." The Butcher shrugged. "I noticed your heart rate was a little off earlier, and your lips were turning purple. You don't have a heart condition, do you?"

Damn it, Du Pont thought. This guy's perception is surprisingly sharp. "Would I get a heart condition at my age? But I haven't been feeling well these past few days and have been going to the infirmary. The doctor told me I should rest more and pay attention to nutrition."

"Your body is a bit on the thin side. If you had stronger muscles, you could be a good Barbarian prospect." The Butcher said, squeezing his arm. "But seeing as you're not that old, you can put on muscle by eating more every day. It's much faster than growing a brain."

"The academy generally promotes nutritional meals." Du Pont deliberately retorted. "Eating too much makes it easy to get fat, and the brain becomes sluggish. The instructors don't recommend it."

"A sluggish brain is just from not using it. If you asked me to do accounting, I'd be worse than a regular tax official. But if you asked me how to completely butcher a cow, I could give you several plans in an instant. Judy can even remember the recipes for hundreds of dishes, but his intelligence level is about average." The Butcher gestured. "Besides, it's easy to lose weight if you get fat. Just exercise more. If you waste your time and your true talent, you'll end up like those Mages who can't even use Bull's Strength for more than a few minutes in a brothel. Then it'll be too late to train."

Du Pont looked incredulous. "Who told you that? There are more skinny people than fat people in my academy, and I've read in books that many Mages summon Succubi as playthings, and some Archmages even imprison Demon Lords for personal use. It's not as bad as you say, right?"

"You actually believe the nonsense in books." The Butcher scoffed. "In Haluar, summoning a Demon without prior authorization will land you in prison for at least 20 years. Even if it's approved, if you want to play with a Succubus, you have to put on a four-ring Divine Magic: Anti-Death Barrier, or a single kiss could suck your soul away. Those four-ring Divine Magic scrolls might not even be available for 500 gold. If you want to play around, you'd better become a High-level Mage first."

"...What about becoming a Barbarian? Then becoming a Butcher when I don't want to do it anymore?" Du Pont looked disgusted. "It'd be hard to find a wife with this job, right?"

"Heh, what's so great about women? If I went back to those Northlands tribes, they'd be tripping over themselves to have me sleep with their women, just to leave their clan with strong boys. But I don't care." The Butcher snorted. "Only little kids like you like to chase after women all day. Isn't it more comfortable to eat good food, fish, hunt, ride horses, and shoot the breeze with your buddies than to be with a woman? I think you're just too young."

"Wow, you're really experienced, old brother." Du Pont looked shocked. "Are you impotent or something?"

The Barbarian was speechless for a long time after hearing this. After a while, he said, "...If what you make isn't good, I'll stuff that large intestine into your mouth."

Du Pont chuckled and didn't say anything, adding water, salt, and oil to the flour. After kneading it for a while, he felt something was off. "Judy, does this flour seem like it wasn't ground properly? It's so coarse."

"That's the semi-finished product from the mill. It's basically for apprentices to bake bread with. It hasn't been sifted much." Judy whispered back. "You wouldn't want snow flour, would you? That's the good stuff that's been sifted eight times to make queen's bread. Only the instructors are worthy of eating it here."

Du Pont said in a low voice, "I'll just use a little bit. It's only for the three of us."

Judy realized. "Okay, I'll get you five pounds."

After kneading the dough, there was naturally no plastic wrap in this world. Du Pont found a clean, thin cloth, wet it, and covered the basin. "Okay, this dough needs to sit here and ferment for a while. I'm going back to take care of something. I'll come back when it's time to make the pancakes."

After saying that, he removed most of the firewood from under the iron pot, leaving only a few embers, leaving Judy and the Butcher staring at each other.

"What does he mean by 'pancakes'? Some kind of bread recipe?"

"If you don't know, how would I know? I only know how to make roast meat and stews at home." The Butcher glanced at the entrails in the cold water. "But that kid's pretty interesting. He might actually come up with something new. But his Common Tongue is too standard. You can't tell where he's from by his accent."

"There are always more weirdos among Mages." Judy said, opening the pot lid and taking a spoonful of the soup. "Hearth God above, this is really salty."

"Did he mess up this pot of stuff?"

"Not really. He put in a lot of water and a lot of ingredients. If you want to get the flavor in, you definitely need more salt. Just don't know how it will taste in the end."

"One hour later..." The Butcher patted his stomach. "Get me some bread and sausage to tide me over, or I'm afraid I'll lose weight."

At this time, Du Pont had cleaned his hands and arrived at the finance office.

While he was showing off his cooking skills, most of the apprentices staying at the school had already finished their meals. At this time, two long lines had formed in the corridor.

Although the academy could accept submissions as late as 6 PM, submitting the task early would undoubtedly put you in a more prominent position on the list, making you more visible.

Few apprentices delayed submitting until the evening, because it would annoy the waiting teacher and prove that their abilities were limited.

What if something came up and you could only come in the evening? Why couldn't you find a friend to help you submit it? Wasn't that just a sign of poor interpersonal skills?

Just an excuse.

However, the efficiency here was pretty good, and Du Pont didn't have to wait long before it was his turn. He blocked the view of the person behind him and said in a low voice, "Du Pont, my friend lost my receipt."

William didn't even look up, just filled in Du Pont's name with his pen, and called out, "Josen, is there a Du Pont's name in the receipt book?"

A few seconds later, a voice replied from the counter next to him: "No."

"Don't come again if you lose it next time." William's words were full of impatience, and he threw the slip of paper to him. "Hurry up and go, next!"