The Body is Capital, Time to Eat Something Good

Tylen stood respectfully before Makley, the Purple Diamond Carving Knife and crisp banknotes clutched tightly in his hand, but he did not leave immediately.

He lifted his head slightly, a hint of probing and earnestness in his eyes, and spoke:

"Master, your student has a small request."

Makley was in a good mood, raising his teacup for a sip: "Speak."

"Since the task ahead is tight on time, I need a lot of it to run channels, practice runes, and handle the corpses."

Tylen paused, his tone growing more sincere:

"So I hope... I can skip the two basic theory lectures in the first-floor classroom every morning?"

"With your teachings from yesterday, as clear as sunlight, listening to that kind of rote recitation is just wasting my life and the precious time I should be using to serve you."

This was said with great skill.

It belittled the public classes while elevating the mentor, and made clear he wanted to skip class for work, not laziness.

Makley listened, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth, revealing an unsurprised grin.

As a full-fledged wizard, he knew well the value of those public lessons.

They were placebos for cannon fodder; true elites never relied on them to grow stronger.

"Fine."

Makley agreed readily:

"I'll notify the academic office. Your attendance will be marked perfect from now on. Don't waste time there."

"Put all your energy into the real work."

"Thank you, Master!"

Tylen's face was full of undisguised joy as he bowed again.

Then, he swiftly stacked three empty sealed boxes onto the flatbed cart, and before the pampered noble students arrived for class, he pulled the cart out like the wind, slipping away.

Watching Tylen's slightly thin but energetic figure disappear through the doorway, Violet Star, who had been standing silently nearby, gently fiddled with the gem pendant on her hat brim, turning to Makley:

"Teacher, should I secretly lend him a hand?"

"No need."

Makley shook his head.

He walked to the window, gazing down at the bustling crowd like ants, his eyes deep:

"Your excessive interference will only draw more attention to him."

"Violet Star, you must understand, this child's starting point is too low. You are a star in the sky, born to shine and tower over the masses."

"But he is different. He is a grass seed in the mud."

"He cannot survive in the spotlight like you. What he needs is shadow, a safe space born from being overlooked."

"The more attention we show him, the more dangerous it becomes."

"Let him carve his own path. Only after rolling through the mire a few times can a grass seed sink deep roots."

Violet Star nodded thoughtfully, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.

"I understand, Teacher."

Leaving the oppressive main tower, Tylen felt the air itself fresher.

Pulling the empty flatbed cart, his steps were as light as dancing.

"No morning classes means I've suddenly gained 4 extra hours of free time every day!"

Tylen calculated rapidly in his mind.

"4 hours, with the [Slacker Saint Body]'s 30x efficiency boost, that's 120 hours!"

"Almost 5 days!"

"While others spend a morning in class, I can self-study for 5 days! If I can't outpace those second-generation brats with this, I might as well find a block of tofu and bash my head against it."

Just as he hummed a tune and stepped out of the Wizard Tower's gate, He ran headlong into a dark crowd of low-level apprentices heading to their big lecture.

Among them, four familiar figures stood out.

They were the four lackeys who had followed Haige yesterday.

These four were still huddled together, pointing and sneering at some apprentices, their arrogance undimmed by their boss's death the day before.

But when their eyes swept over Tylen pulling the cart...

Like a duck caught by the throat, all sound came to an abrupt halt.

The arrogant expressions on their faces froze instantly, then twisted into deep terror.

The four of them lowered their heads in unison, shrinking their necks, practically trying to stuff their heads into their crotches as they sidestepped to clear a wide path for Tylen.

They didn't even dare to breathe too loudly.

Tylen pulled the cart, walking past them without a sideways glance, not even bothering to spare these pieces of trash the corner of his eye.

But in his heart, he was as clear as a mirror.

"Looks like Instructor Makley's reputation really does carry weight."

"Seeing these four cowards, it should mean Tom has already revoked the kill order on me, maybe even warned his underlings."

"Otherwise, with these bootlickers' habit of using any means necessary and bullying the weak, spotting me alone would have them swaggering up to provoke me, or even trying something dirty."

"So this is the taste of power..."

Certain that there would be no immediate threats from Tom and Jane, Tylen's mood lightened even further.

Back in the dark, damp Morgue.

Tylen locked the door and eagerly pulled the Purple Diamond Carving Knife from his bosom.

Even under the dim oil lamp, this carving knife radiated a captivating luster.

Its entire body was crystal clear, the deep purple blade seeming carved from the purest crystal, with a faint, cold gleam shimmering along its edge—the hallmark of the "Sharpness" enchantment.

What pleased Tylen most was the handle.

It wasn't a straight cylinder but featured ergonomic curves and grooves, with fine anti-slip textures carved into the surface.

Gripping it, the fit was a hundred times more comfortable than holding a lover's hand.

"A craftsman must first sharpen his tools to do his work. The ancients weren't wrong."

Tylen praised aloud, feeling his pent-up urge to express himself from the night before about to explode.

He immediately ducked into the cellar and picked out a skull fragment.

Back at the table, he took a deep breath, flicked his wrist lightly, and the tip of the Purple Diamond Carving Knife touched the pale bone.

Without the aid of the Magic Thorn Art, relying solely on the blade's sharpness.

Click!

A faint, tiny sound.

The tip effortlessly pierced the bone's surface, sinking in about a fraction of a millimeter.

Then, with a push from his wrist, he guided the blade along.

Though he could still feel the resistance of the bone's density, that dragging sensation remained, but compared to yesterday's "constipated" feeling with the Bone-Cleaving Knife, it was incomparably smoother!

"Awesome!"

Tylen cheered inwardly and immediately entered a focused state.

With the boost of 30x efficiency, he began practicing basic rune carving on the bone fragment.

Thanks to the two hours he'd spent yesterday grinding through the bone's microstructure and the aid of this divine tool, this time, his progress was lightning fast.

First attempt—the lines were crooked.

Fifth attempt—the node depth was insufficient.

Tenth attempt—the magic circuit snapped.

After over twenty consecutive failures, consuming about an hour of real-world time, the knife in Tylen's hand finally stopped.

Before him on the skull fragment, a delicate, compact, and structurally complete Ian Rune framework had taken shape.

Though no magic had been infused yet, its perfect geometric structure already displayed a unique beauty.

"Done!"

Overjoyed, Tylen was about to pump his fist in celebration.

"Ah—!!"

A sudden scream echoed through the cellar.

Tylen dropped the knife abruptly, his left hand clamping down on his right forearm, his features twisted in agony.

Cramp.

The prolonged high-intensity precision work, combined with muscles locked in constant tension, had finally made his frail body protest.

The searing pain, as if muscle fibers were about to snap, instantly beaded cold sweat across his forehead.

"Hiss... ow, ow, ow..."

Tylen kneaded his stiff forearm as he forced himself through stretches, trying to ease the cramp.

He looked at his own thin wrist—pale skin, blue veins clearly visible.

"What the hell..."

"My wrist isn't even as thick as some plump noble lady's!"

"With a body like this, I want to be a wizard? I'd probably struggle just being a tailor!"

Tylen slumped into a chair, panting heavily, sinking into thought.

This cramp was a small incident, but it rang an alarm bell for him.

"Next comes the 'cost-cutting, efficiency-boosting' era of intense competition within the Wizard Tower. There's no way I'll keep getting cheap corpses comfortably in the city anymore."

"Corpses inside the city are too expensive. This kind of market definitely can't support a budget of only 6,000 Purple Gold Coins now."

"So, to complete Makley's workload in the future, I'll have to expand outside the city."

"Go to those chaotic suburbs, those lawless places, and get in touch with more desperadoes like Haige, or even more dangerous than Haige."

"Facing that kind of situation, I need a good body."

Tylen clenched his fist, feeling that sense of powerlessness.

"Now that I have money, I need to hurry up and improve my physical condition."

"Otherwise, with these skinny little arms, I cramp up just carving a rune. Can I count on this frail frame to escape?"

"If I really run into danger, I'll probably blow out my lungs after two steps!"

Complaints aside, Tylen's execution had always been top-notch.

After getting through that painful cramping spell, he quickly laid out his next plan in his mind.

"The body is the foundation of everything, the capital of revolution."

"Priority one: make this body strong fast. So the most urgent task now—supplement nutrition, build up strength!"

"With a good body, I can not only improve my survival rate but also carve these inscriptions more quickly, accurately, and for longer periods, increasing my inscription proficiency and experience."

"Once I finish researching the Bone Domination subject, I can even use inscriptions to attach some bone armor to myself for defense."

"By then, able to take hits, fight, and run—that's when I'll have a foothold in this world."

With the plan confirmed, Tylen immediately got up.

He changed out of his work clothes stained with bone dust and put on a clean linen short-sleeved shirt.

This time, he didn't go for the old horse or the cart.

After all, this trip was for personal shopping, not corpse collection. Using public property for private errands would invite criticism.

Stepping out of the Wizard Tower's shadow, he was greeted by the bright morning sun.

Tylen followed the stone road eastward until he reached the bank of the Heaven Luck River.

This was the busiest morning market in Lion City.

On the wide river, all kinds of boats shuttled back and forth.

And on the shallows along both riverbanks, countless small boats were moored.

These were farmers and peddlers from towns up and down the Heaven Luck River.

Every morning, they would drift downstream, bringing the freshest produce from their fields to sell here.

This wasn't a formal market—no fixed stall fees.

It only lasted about an hour each morning, dispersing once the sun climbed higher.

But because of that, the atmosphere here was the liveliest, the goods the freshest, and the prices the cheapest.

Tylen planned to cook for himself, to make his own meals.

Standing on the embankment, looking down at the bustling crowd, he took a deep breath.

The air mixed the fishy smell of the river, the scent of soil, the fragrance of vegetables, and the sweat of livestock.

This was the flavor of the mortal world.

He walked down the steps and merged into the noise.

"Fresh river shrimp! Just caught! Still jumping!"

"Homegrown carrots! If they're not sweet, no charge!"

"Move aside! Move aside! Watch out, hot!"

Shouts of vendors, haggling, children's crying—all intertwined, deafening.

Tylen spotted a dark-skinned farmer tying himself and his two kids together with a thick hemp rope around his waist, unloading goods from his boat while keeping the children from running into the water.

Not far away, a plump woman sat at the bow of her boat, casually opening her blouse to breastfeed the baby in her arms, all while haggling nonstop with a customer on the shore.

"These are top-grade Sky Cloud Duck Eggs! Great for nourishment—thirty silver coins each!" (Silver coins to Purple Gold Coins exchange rate: 100:1)

Tylen wove through the crowd, his eyes scanning the goods and prices at each stall like a radar.

A scale balanced in his mind, rapidly calculating cost-effectiveness.

"To quickly build up strength, I first need to supplement with plenty of protein."

"Meat, eggs, and milk are the best choices."

He walked up to a meat stall and glanced at the beef hanging on the hooks.

The color was rosy, the grain clear—truly good meat.

"Boss, how much for the beef?"

"14 Purple Gold Coins per kilogram." The butcher didn't even look up.

"A bit pricey, but about what I expected." Tylen calculated inwardly.

"After all, the world is medieval. Though wizard technology has freed up some productivity, these magical services mainly support the upper echelons."

"The Engel coefficient for the common folk is generally over 60%."

He went to check out the apples.

Regular-sized red apples, 1.2 Purple Gold Coins per kilogram.

Carrots, turnips, tomatoes—these fruits and vegetables—about 60 silver coins per kilogram.

Pork was roughly 9 Purple Gold Coins per kilogram, onions 1 Purple Gold Coin per kilogram.

Various fish prices ranged from 5 to 10 Purple Gold Coins per kilogram.

Legumes... peas, fava beans, lentils—these quality plant proteins were around 80 silver coins per kilogram.

Looking at the dazzling array of ingredients, Tylen's Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

He recalled the unvarying oatmeal, black bread, and mushy, nameless leafy greens from the Wizard Tower cafeteria every day.

Suddenly, those things felt like pig slop—barely swallowable.

"The food culture in this godforsaken place is a disaster."

Tylen ranted wildly in his mind:

"Everything's either roasted or boiled, and the seasonings are just salt and pepper—it's a total waste."

"As a Chinese person, that cooking gene etched into my DNA, awaken now!!"

"Anyway, I've got plenty of time. Might as well put the Slacker Saint Body to use."

"Maybe... I could really consider making myself some good food as a treat?"

In this world, facing immense survival pressure and grueling physical labor every day, being able to eat a full, flavorful, and aromatic meal was definitely the best way to relieve both mental and physical strain.

"Besides, I can stock up in one trip."

Tylen clutched the money pouch at his chest, his thoughts drifting:

"After all, I've got that cold storage for corpses. Sounds a bit gross, but it's a proper magical cold storage—very clean, and there's plenty of empty space."

"At least I won't have to worry about ingredients spoiling."

At that thought, his eyes grew fervent.

"Even... I could use unique Chinese cuisine to expand my network among the lower classes."

"Who could resist a plate of braised pork? If they can, then two plates!"

"And the Grand Monthly Card's weekly quest includes a task to make 10 magical dishes!"

"Mysterious Eastern cuisine plus magic—that's got serious potential!"

Decision made, Tylen began his bulk shopping.

"Beef's too expensive. I'm as skinny as a monkey now—I need to build muscle, not cut fat. Fat is good stuff too."

He arrived at the pork stall and pointed at the fatty-streaked belly:

"Boss, give me 5 kilograms of pork belly!"

"Coming right up!" The butcher's knife fell with a clean chop.

"Nobody wants this pig skin, right? Throw some in for me?" Tylen pointed at the pile of trimmed-off skins.

"Take it, take it!" The butcher waved generously.

The pork cost 45 Purple Gold Coins.

Next, he went on a shopping spree.

1 kilogram of onions, 1 Purple Gold Coin.

1 kilogram of carrots, 60 silver coins.

1 kilogram of apples, 1.2 Purple Gold Coins.

2 kilograms of peas, 1.6 Purple Gold Coins.

Finally, he spent 4 Purple Gold Coins on a kilogram of coarse salt.

That brought the total to 49.4 Purple Gold Coins.

Looking at the heavy pile of spoils in his hands, Tylen felt more accomplished than if he had slain a Magic Beast.

He wrapped the 11 kilograms of goods in his robe, slung them over his back like a ascetic carrying a pack, and returned to the Wizard Tower in high spirits.

Back in the Morgue, he first sorted the ingredients and stuffed them into the cool space under his bed.

Then, he picked up a pen, quickly sketched a design on a piece of paper, and rushed straight to the artisan workshop in the servant quarters.

"Brother Cole! Busy at work?"

Tylen approached with a beaming smile.

Cole, who was polishing a horseshoe, looked up and wiped his sweat: "Oh, Little Ma. Why aren't you in class today?"

"The corpse collection work is picking up, so I'm skipping the morning sessions!"

Cole lowered his voice and said, "Little Ma, sticking to corpse collection has no future. Don't let your studies fall behind—the knowledge you learn is the most solid foundation!"

"If you just skip class like this, you're no different from those slaves!"

Hearing Cole's advice, Tylen felt a warmth in his heart, then smiled and said, "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

He then pulled a piece of parchment from his chest, on which was drawn a strange shape:

"Brother Cole, can you help me make a pot?"

Cole took the drawing, his brow furrowing into a deep crease.

"This pot... why is it so odd?"

He pointed at the hemispherical object on the diagram:

"Such a round bottom? How would this sit on a stove? Wouldn't a flat-bottomed pot be better?"

"And you want the iron sheet this thin—it'll be hard to hammer out."

Tylen explained with a smile:

"No problem, Brother Cole. Just forge me a rough shape."

"It'd be best if you could fix a sturdy wooden handle here, so I can... uh, toss the pan."

Though Cole had no idea what "tossing the pan" meant, seeing the eager look in Tylen's eyes, he nodded anyway:

"Alright, since you want it, I'll hammer one out for you."

"This is simple—no mold needed, just hand-hammering. I'll have it done in an hour."

"Thank you so much!"

Tylen voiced his thanks while naturally slipping 20 Purple Gold Coins into Cole's hand:

"I'll trouble you, Brother Cole. Take this to buy some fruit for Sister-in-law."

Cole made a show of refusing, but his movements turned smooth as silk as he pocketed the money in an instant, his smile growing even brighter:

"Haha, you kid, too polite!"

With the pot settled, he still needed a stove.

Tylen jogged over to the kitchen.

It wasn't mealtime yet, so the fat chef Burton was sitting at the door, smoking his pipe.

"Uncle Burton!"

Tylen sidled up and deftly lit Burton's pipe for him:

"Do you have any old portable stoves you're not using? Could I borrow one?"

Burton blew out a smoke ring and glanced sideways at Tylen:

"What do you want that for? Planning to roast corpses in the morgue?"

"Of course not!" Tylen said, half laughing, half crying.

"It's just that I'm too weak, so I want to cook something for myself."

"Alright."

Burton pointed at a dusty iron stove in the corner:

"It's over there. Haven't used it in ages. Check if it's broken yourself."

"You'll have to handle the fuel yourself—don't steal my coal."

Tylen then slipped him 50 Purple Gold Coins and said with a smile, "I'm just one person, won't use much. Please look out for me."

He'd need this chef's help with a big favor later.

Burton puffed on his pipe, baring his yellowed teeth as he pocketed the money: "Haha, Little Ma's really grown up. If you need anything, just say so."

"Got it!"

Tylen picked up the simple cast-iron stove, about 20 centimeters in diameter.

It was a bit rusty, but the structure was intact—a quick wipe and it would be good to go.

He hugged the stove and dashed back to his Morgue, full of excitement.

"Everything is ready, all I need is the wind!"