Impressions Increased
Morning light streamed into the cell through a small window, casting a square patch of light on the floor, but this light did little to warm the cold, gloomy prison.
Feng Xue stretched his body, which had become stiff from sitting with his knees drawn up for so long. Perhaps due to the conservation of luck, after successfully refining the Translation Konjac, Feng Xue got a black ball every time he Reforge six times in a row. This scared him so much that he quickly stopped his increasingly enthusiastic card-drawing behavior and devoted all his time to making word cards. Overnight, he had accumulated a thick stack of word cards.
Now that he had paper and pen in hand, Feng Xue also had the idea of writing his own secret manual and then Smelt it. Although he was not a hermit master in his previous life, it would be excellent if the knowledge he gained from the assassin's Trait could be transformed into a skill book.
However, considering the possibility of surveillance in the area, he abandoned the idea.
Although the boss here may not seem very bright, ultimately, someone who has the ability to hunt monsters in large numbers and has a group of trustworthy subordinates must be above average in intelligence, no matter how unintelligent they may be.
The other party might be wary of him and therefore refuse to find him an English teacher or arrange a simultaneous interpreter he cannot trust, but since Feng Xue had written everything down on paper, there was no reason for them not to have it machine-translated.
Even though Smart Phone in this era are a few years behind those of the time he traveled to, he still can't remember when the function of extracting text from photos appeared.
But even if they don't have it, it doesn't matter. The other party just needs to break down each Chinese character and ask someone for help separately. At worst, they can just input the information into the computer and then have it machine-translated. This method of an illiterate person finding a secret manual and asking someone to translate it has been written to death in novels decades ago.
Setting aside unrealistic thoughts, Feng Xue recalculated the number of days she could exist in the Real World and found that it had increased by about ten minutes. This was the result provided by Chen Xiyao and the prison owner yesterday.
Don't underestimate these ten or twenty minutes; in Infinite City, that would be ten or twenty days!
"Sigh, it feels like I've suddenly moved from my hometown with a very low cost of living to a world-class metropolis with a high cost of living. I just wanted to earn some money to go home and spend, but it's not even enough to cover my living expenses."
Feng Xue sighed softly, then nervously looked at her hands, but didn't see the bag of salt, and breathed a sigh of relief.
The mechanism for determining salt is strange. It doesn't appear "when you complain," but rather "when you want to complain." However, this seems like you can't hold back, but that's not actually the case. When you have the thought of "holding back from complaining," it means you "don't want to complain." Since "not wanting to complain" conflicts with the criterion of "wanting to complain," it won't appear.
However, keeping his nerves on edge like this was also exhausting. Before he knew it, Feng Xue forgot to maintain his "no-complaint" attitude. Fortunately, this kind of complaining didn't seem to count as complaining, which prevented him from having an accident because of the salt.
"We can't let our guard down just because we've produced good products! Stay alert, stay alert!"
Giving herself a mental pep talk, Feng Xue stood up and stretched, preparing to go back to make more vocabulary cards. Suddenly, she heard the sound of an iron gate opening not far away. Then, the jailer who had brought her food yesterday came over and placed a bowl of oatmeal porridge at the food delivery window.
Compared to fried chicken, which was only slightly more flavorful, oatmeal porridge wasn't really to Feng Xue's liking. However, he quickly ate it and then, guided by the jailer, went to the ritual site that Jeston had prepared for him.
In Porto New Covenant Port, Federal Columbia, an elderly gentleman enjoying breakfast watched his butler enter the dining room carrying an ornate little box, a look of anticipation on his face.
"Did my silly son's gift arrive?"
"Yes, sir, it has been tested and no harmful factors were found." The old butler held the gift box with both hands, waiting for his master to finish his meal. However, the old gentleman was obviously impatient. He casually pushed away the plate in front of him, and the servants beside him immediately picked up the cutlery and quickly left the dining room.
"It's truly a beautiful work of art." The old gentleman opened the box and looked at the not-so-pure crystal inside. Even though he had seen countless exquisite gems in his life, the appreciation in his eyes at this moment seemed genuine.
"Bring me a glass of water," the old gentleman said to the butler after playing with the crystal for a while. But since the butler already knew the effect of the crystal, how could he not have prepared it? As soon as the master spoke, a glass for whiskey was brought to him.
The old gentleman dipped the crystal into the water, and a soft, non-glaring light instantly filled the entire restaurant. Bathed in this radiance, the old gentleman's initially excited expression gradually calmed down.
"How many Magical Item did Jeston get in total this time?"
"Seventeen items in total." The old butler reported a number easily, and the old gentleman's face showed a bit of emotion:
"Seventeen items... That's a year's output for a top-tier Ghost Hunter team! His absurd Trojan Horse Plan actually succeeded..."
"Judging from the current situation, the Third Young Master's prison has indeed recently admitted a batch of prisoners whose origins cannot be traced."
At this point, the old butler seemed to have just remembered something and added:
"Apart from the garment I gave you, the remaining sixteen items are all various cold weapons, not including this crystal."
"Oh?" The old gentleman's previously calm expression suddenly changed slightly; he narrowed his eyes, and his tone became somewhat playful.
"In other words, either my foolish son is incredibly lucky and managed to create such a wonderful item by killing and capturing ghosts, or... hehe, I never expected that my most useless son could bring me such a surprise."
The old gentleman stopped talking abruptly, slowly taking the crystal out of the wine glass, wiping it with a soft cloth while staring blankly into space.
After a moment, he finally spoke:
"Take a sum from my idle Black Market account and give it to Jeston. Pre-deposit 50 million into it, increase his monthly quota by 3%, and ask him if he needs more manpower... Also, give the boss a message for me: tell him not to treat everyone like fools."
"Understood, sir." The old butler nodded, turned and disappeared from the dining room, while the old gentleman fiddled with the crystal, lost in thought.
"Huh? The feedback from the [Money Printer] Tag has increased?" Feng Xue, who was performing a ritual in the private room, paused slightly, then glanced at Jeston out of the corner of her eye.
Listening to his and Fran's unreserved argument about themselves, she silently felt pity for them.