Chapter 129: Cliff Top

Another quarter hour passed.

Gao De followed Candice, stepping off the final platform of the cliffside stairs and returning to the top of Hardship Cliff.

The other four had already arrived at the cliff top some time ago and were now resting.

Luca, who had led the group and carried the heaviest load of water-gold ore, lay motionless on the ground like a dried salted fish, breathing heavily in a sprawling X shape.

Seeing Candice and Gao De finally climb up, the others merely glanced at them listlessly, too exhausted to speak.

Upon reaching the cliff top, Candice abandoned all ladylike poise and noble etiquette, plopping down cross-legged on the ground, utterly drained.

Royas, who had already rested for a while, hesitated, then stood up.

He walked to Candice’s side and handed her a bottle of orange-colored magic potion.

“Strength recovery potion. I asked Coach Shahu—it’s permitted to consume recovery potions, not a violation,” Royas said.

Candice glanced up at Royas, then shook her head slightly and whispered, “Thank you, but I don’t need it yet.”

Rejected, Royas’s face seemed to pale further.

Luca, who had already sat up from the ground, caught sight of this and smirked.

In his view, Royas’s attempt to “flatter” Candice and being turned down was both childish and humiliating.

Yet Candice did possess a certain charm—her features delicate and refined, her brown-gold hair smooth and radiant.

Even now, pale-faced and drenched in sweat, her noble bearing remained unmistakable, untouched by exhaustion.

“Cappalan, how was your morning’s haul?” he suddenly called out loudly to Cappalan. “I mined thirty kilograms this morning—push a bit harder this afternoon, another thirty won’t be a problem.”

Cappalan, suddenly called out, froze for a moment, then quickly understood his “good brother’s” intent.

Trying to draw Candice’s attention by showing off his “muscles”?

He naturally refused to let Luca succeed.

The problem was, Luca had indeed carried significantly more water-gold ore than he had—he had no counterargument.

Eyes darting, Cappalan decided to shift the topic.

“Gao De, look—we’ve all gathered some hauls, even Candice has about ten kilograms of water-gold ore,” he turned to Gao De, feigning not to have heard Luca’s question, and “kindly” advised him.

“You’ve wasted the whole morning—face reality, abandon your unrealistic fantasies, and join us in mining properly.”

The others nodded slightly at this, clearly agreeing with Cappalan.

“No problem—I’ll try again. This morning I was focused on practicing water techniques, didn’t look for clams much,” Gao De replied cheerfully.

He wasn’t blind to their petty schemes—he simply didn’t care to engage.

Gao De, having crossed over, held a mindset far beyond his years.

To these tactics—shouting loudly to attract girls’ attention, only seen in middle or high school—he found every world’s young boys were equally “adorable.”

Cappalan had only meant to change the subject, but seeing Gao De ignore him, he genuinely grew agitated:

“Didn’t you hear Coach Shahu? Harvesting clams is harder than mining, let alone you’re a half-baked diver who’s still learning how to swim underwater.”

“Clam harvesting won’t work!”

“How will you know unless you try?” Gao De replied with the same cheerful smile—his demeanor noticeably more relaxed than the others’ panting exhaustion.

“Why are you so stubborn?” Cappalan grew irrationally furious. “I’ll bet you—even after another week—you’ll get nothing!”

“You’ve already lost the bet,” Candice suddenly spoke.

“Huh?” Cappalan turned to Candice, confused by her words.

“Look at Gao De’s basket,” Candice said softly.

At her words, everyone instinctively turned to Gao De’s basket.

One glance—and they were stunned: Gao De’s basket was not empty as they’d assumed! “T-That’s a Maid Clam?!” Cappalan couldn’t believe it.

“Lucky on my last dive—I caught one,” Gao De smiled shyly.

That single Maid Clam contained fifty kilograms of water-gold ore.

Cappalan had slaved all morning and hauled up barely twenty-five kilograms. “You can’t be this lucky every time,” Cappalan’s face flushed crimson as he choked out.

Gao De pretended not to hear, chuckled, and said, “I’m heading back to eat.”

He’d been starving since morning, and it was already lunchtime.

The others were just as hungry.

But since this was everyone’s first mission, none had brought rations.

After hours of physical labor, failing to replenish energy through food would weaken the body. The priority now was returning to eat—not lingering here to “compete for attention.”

Gao De placed his morning’s “haul” on the cliff top, then, lightly dressed, walked toward his “dormitory.”

His movements were swift—he soon vanished into the distance.

With Gao De gone, the atmosphere grew strangely tense from the earlier exchange.

The remaining five each held different thoughts—some merely envious of Gao De’s luck, others feeling embarrassed or awkward.

Finally, Jelica staggered to her feet and whispered gently to Candice, still seated on the ground: “Let’s go. If we don’t eat something now, the afternoon task will be even harder.”

She noticed Candice’s legs were weak, barely able to walk, and out of kindness wanted to help her.

Candice snapped back to awareness, nodded, and, with Jelica’s support, left the cliff top together.

Cappalan remained standing, his face still pale. He took a deep breath, suppressing his resentment and shame.

He knew his outburst had been impulsive, childish.

But seeing Gao De effortlessly reap good fortune, his heart burned with unfairness.

“I don’t believe you’ll be this lucky this afternoon!” Cappalan muttered inwardly, then turned and trudged heavily toward the academy.

Gao De returned first to Dormitory 30 in Zone One, took a shower, and changed into clean clothes.

He washed his morning clothes, hung them to dry on the balcony, then left the dormitory for the dining hall.

Even though he’d missed mealtime, the dining hall was still crowded.

Clearly, many academy students didn’t adhere to fixed meal schedules.

Gao De also noticed the sign by the dining hall door had changed from yesterday.

Today’s Special: “Charcoal-Grilled Centipede,” 8 silver per portion.

Sss—Gao De, who had already seen and tasted “Charcoal-Grilled Bird Spider” yesterday, still sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of “Charcoal-Grilled Centipede.”

Seriously? This is your idea of a delicacy? Fine, fine.

And it’s so expensive—8 silver per portion. With that money, I could eat anything else… wait, this price is cheaper than yesterday’s “Charcoal-Grilled Bird Spider”? Gao De fell into thought.

Five minutes later.

“Sir, your charcoal-grilled centipede, expertly prepared—enjoy!” The server placed a large platter of “Charcoal-Grilled Centipede” before Gao De’s table.

A small bottle of wine accompanied the meal.

Once again, curiosity overrode reason. Gao De silently studied the specialty dish.

His gaze first held confusion.

Because at first glance, he saw no “centipede” at all.

Instead, he saw five plump, golden onions, their skins slightly charred, arranged neatly on the plate.

Of course, this was no trick.

The true star—the charcoal-grilled centipede—was cleverly concealed within the onions.

Gao De sliced open the top of an onion with his knife and fork.

A complex aroma—smoky charcoal, sweet honey, spicy spices, and the centipede’s unique scent—burst forth, making his mouth water.

Each centipede inside the onion had been meticulously prepared: inedible parts removed, leaving only the most tender, succulent flesh, glowing a tempting amber.

Their outer layer was coated in a thin glaze of honey, spices, and a special sauce.

Gao De speared one centipede with a piece of onion and popped it into his mouth.

The first bite: the sweet, slightly spicy onion burst on his tongue.

Immediately after came the centipede’s savory richness and unique texture.

Slow-roasted over charcoal, the centipede’s skin was crisp and golden, while its interior remained perfectly tender and juicy.

The contrast between the crunchy exterior and tender interior, enhanced by the skillful seasoning, created a layered, unforgettable mouthfeel.

The accompanying wine—onion wine—added a distinctive note, perfectly balancing the centipede’s faint fishiness and unifying the entire dish.

Having finished every last bite of the charcoal-grilled centipede, Gao De felt a faint warmth surge through his body.

His body had been chilled by the cold water during diving; even ashore, a lingering chill clung to his insides.

Now, under the warmth from the centipede, that chill dissolved.

(End of Chapter)