Chapter 38: It

Gao De gave Amy a meaningful look, then reached out and took the box.

He didn’t care whether Amy couldn’t open the box, or whether his explanation was true.

As long as the final result was the same, it didn’t matter.

Gao De understood that if he hadn’t agreed to become the herb garden’s master, even if the box remained unopenable, Amy would most likely have taken it away rather than offer it to him.

As he thought this, Gao De tried to open the box—even though Amy had said it couldn’t be opened, that didn’t stop him from trying again.

The facts proved Amy hadn’t lied to him.

The box appeared perfectly normal, but when he tried to open it, it was as if welded shut—no matter how hard he pushed or pulled, it didn’t budge an inch.

After trying left and right for a while, Gao De gave up on opening it by ordinary means.

Clearly, there was an invisible, hidden lock on the box.

Without unlocking that lock, the box could not be opened.

“This is just like a wizard’s safe,” Gao De muttered to himself, feeling frustrated yet unsurprised.

He had already glimpsed the wonder of magic; in this world, even the most fantastical things could be real.

“The immediate priority is to rest, heal, and get the herb garden running again.”

“After those two things are done, I’ll look for a way to open the box.”

Gao De knew the contents of the box must be extremely valuable, and likely included the spell formulas and potion recipes he needed most.

Yet he was well aware that some things couldn’t be rushed; he quickly adjusted his mindset and put the box away.

Gao De glanced at the group of apprentices still crammed inside the room, making the narrow space feel stifling.

He yawned and said to them, “I’m tired and need to rest. Go back for now. We’ll discuss the herb garden’s affairs in detail after I wake up.”

Gao De was truly exhausted—he had been under intense mental strain for a full month, leaving him drained, and with his physical injuries, he was even more worn out.

The apprentices, sensing this, promptly rose and left, including Amy, who had been Gao De’s roommate.

“If you need anything, call out—I’ll come right away,” Amy said.

“Alright,” Gao De replied to Amy.

With a low creak, the door shut.

“This room is too small; sleeping here is uncomfortable. I need to move to a different room,” Gao De thought. For instance, Ceda’s bedroom would be perfect.

“It’s good to be alive,” he finally told himself.

Gao De lay sideways on the bed.

It was high noon.

Warm sunlight streamed through the open window, falling across Gao De’s body, making him, still recovering from his wounds, comfortably half-close his eyes.

His own narrow bedroom had only a tiny air vent—naturally, it could never offer such a sight.

This was Ceda’s bedroom.

A spacious, well-lit room.

Now it was his.

As the victor, Gao De claimed it without hesitation.

It was loot! Outside the door, a bustling noise rose, mixed with the creaking of objects being dragged across the floor.

Gao De knew the apprentices were cleaning up the debris.

Because of the violent explosion, Ceda’s workshop—his study—had been reduced to ruins.

Fortunately, the blast hadn’t spread to other areas of the herb garden, preventing greater losses.

Cleaning up the wreckage after the explosion was no easy task.

The apprentices had spent two days and still hadn’t fully cleared the mess.

Ceda’s body had been removed and buried in the back mountain while Gao De was still unconscious.

They buried him alongside the apprentices who had died during previous potion trials.

A fitting end—master and disciples reunited in the same grave, in peaceful harmony.

All items in Ceda’s room, except the unopenable magical wooden box, had been shattered into fragments by the explosion, rendered useless. Even Ceda’s own magical robe had been torn into countless pieces by the blast’s force.

Clearly, this level of damage exceeded the repair spell’s capability—it was utterly irreparable, and so they had no choice but to dispose of it all as trash.

This pained Gao De deeply, since a first-rank arcane item was worth sixty to seventy gold coins.

But given the vast gulf in power between himself and Ceda, what right did he have to even consider claiming loot?

As long as he was alive, bread would come.

Gao De could only comfort himself with this thought.

Though it didn’t fully ease the ache in his heart, it did make him feel slightly better.

Gao De shifted slightly, adjusting into a more comfortable position, and began thinking through his next steps.

The top priority was clearly to get the herb garden running again and back on track, ensuring its income.

He could also maintain his connection with Pierre’s Grocery.

Repairing arcane items wasn’t as stable as potion sales, but it could still serve as extra income.

Next, he needed to find a way to open the magical wooden box left by Ceda.

Finally, he must focus on his own cultivation—this was even more urgent than learning new spells or enhancing spells with Wind Spirit and Moon Shadow.

After all, no matter how many powerful spells he mastered, without sufficient mana, they were nothing but castles in the air, meaningless in practice.

Spring Bud Month, fifth day.

All traces of Ceda in the herb garden had been thoroughly cleared away.

Gao De’s injuries had also healed considerably—it was only external trauma, no broken bones or tendons, and due to the presence of magic, the medicinal effects of this world’s herbs were vastly more potent than in his previous life.

During his recovery these past few days, Gao De had reviewed the current state of the herb garden:

Before he arrived in this world, the herb garden had twelve people—the highest number it had ever had.

Since his arrival, he had killed Yilan and Ceda.

Plus, two apprentices had left during last month’s subterranean creature night attack.

That meant, including himself, there were now eight people left in the herb garden.

His roommate Amy, the apprentice and cook Ramos, and the only two others besides himself capable of brewing potions—Achi and Lei Meng—were all first-rank apprentices.

Yet even among first-rank apprentices, there were differences.

They had barely mastered one cantrip—either Mage Hand or Repair Spell. Calling them mage apprentices was already an exaggeration.

More awkwardly, Achi and Lei Meng could brew potions, but with low success rates—on average, they needed two sets of ingredients to produce one vial.

Remember, zero-rank potions themselves carried low profit margins, essentially “low-end” products, valued only for volume and reliability.

At this rank, any potion maker who had practiced sufficiently could guarantee a 100% success rate.

In fact, low-rank potion makers who couldn’t guarantee this rate simply couldn’t survive. And the potions Achi and Lei Meng mastered weren’t Minor Spider Venom Potions—they were Minor Restful Sleep Potions.

This potion rapidly induced the drinker into brief but deep sleep, leaving them refreshed upon waking.

But it couldn’t be used long-term; otherwise, it lost effectiveness and caused sleep disorders.

Its users were typically haulers, who used it during long journeys as an emergency aid.

It was practical enough, but its applicability was narrow, and since it couldn’t be used long-term, the market was limited.

Phil’s Potion Shop had low demand for Minor Restful Sleep Potions—only ordering occasionally, never like their steady, unlimited purchases of Minor Spider Venom Potions and Minor Stamina Potions.

In other words, Achi and Lei Meng were two unqualified potion makers—barely productive at all.

Looking at it this way, only Gao De himself could reliably generate income for the herb garden.

No wonder the apprentices had insisted on electing Gao De as garden master—he was truly the only one capable.

My new book’s first round of recommendations is up—brothers, please follow along during this early stage; it means a lot to me!

My last sword cultivator book got knocked out in the first round. This is my second book—I’ve got to make it to round two!

(End of Chapter)