Jiaoqiu flicked open his feather fan with an easy smile. "Originally, I only came to seek a bit of advice from Shopkeeper Sylvester. But after seeing that young girl from Zhuming strike gold so easily, I must admit—my hands are getting a little itchy."
He offered his Jade Abacus forward. "Let's start with three trash cans and see what fate has to offer."
Sylvester accepted the Jade Abacus, giving it a casual swipe across the register—though his gaze never once left Jiaoqiu. "Seeking advice, are you? General Jing Yuan is a master of strategy, and Diviner Fu Xuan's intellect rivals the heavens. Not to mention the Matrix of Prescience Ultima of the Divination Commission itself. Coming to me, a mere Honorary General of the Luofu, seems like you've come to the wrong person."
At that, Jiaoqiu's expression didn't falter—still smiling, eyes half-lidded—but the subtle twitch of his brows betrayed his thoughts.
Mere Honorary General of the Luofu?
Each word separately sounded humble, but together they somehow radiated arrogance.
Was this modesty—or bragging disguised as modesty?
He chuckled lightly. "Shopkeeper, you're far too humble. From that spirited shout you gave earlier, I can tell your heart still burns with youthful passion."
"Youthful passion…"
Sylvester's face went blank.
So basically, he's calling me a chuunibyou. How tactful.
He folded his arms, giving Jiaoqiu a flat look.
Clearly, the foxian had overheard the whole conversation with Yunli earlier.
So, this refined, scholarly type wasn't as prim and proper as he looked.
Who would've guessed he had a habit of eavesdropping?
Figures. You can never trust the ones with squinty eyes—they're always up to something.
And honestly, Jiaoqiu wasn't one to talk.
Sylvester's eyes flicked toward the silk pouch tied at the foxian's waist.
That had to be the [Eternal Spirit Knife].
Who in their right mind carried a kitchen knife around in such a luxurious sheath—and took it everywhere?
Was he planning to whip it out and start cooking the moment he saw fresh ingredients?
But this was the Cloudford of the Xianzhou Luofu, not some open-air market.
Could he seriously be… Jiaoqiu, The Hannibal?
Eating people is dangerous business, Sylvester thought grimly. No inspection certificates, no health guarantee. What if he catches something contagious?
If he'd said that out loud, Jiaoqiu would probably have given him a thumbs-up.
You really do think of everything, Shopkeeper.
Instead, Sylvester merely said, "The trash cans will prove everything. Maybe Feixiao's changed his perspective lately—but that still depends on the circumstances around him. If you draw something truly powerful, who knows? You might achieve enlightenment without me saying a word."
"I hope things turn out as you say." Jiaoqiu didn't commit to an opinion, but following the suggestion, he approached the counter.
Thirteen trash cans remained. He wasn't sure whether opening ten would guarantee a rare find—but he decided to start small.
That Zhuming girl had turned the tide of her luck with a single purple Curio and walked away triumphant.
But as for himself…
Jiaoqiu recalled countless battles past, and a wry smile touched his lips.
He had never been blessed with that kind of luck.
With a sigh, he lifted the lid of the first can.
A burst of light flared out—
—and the moment he saw its color, his amber eyes snapped wide open before clamping shut again.
Because it was purple.
If Yunli had still been here, she would've bitten her [Overlord Berrypheasant Skewer] clean in half and burst into tears.
Why does this pink-haired foxian pull a purple on his first try, while I had to spend six million credits?!
Even Jiaoqiu, usually calm and composed, couldn't suppress a flicker of excitement.
He knew well what that color meant.
The top-tier purple Curios sometimes contained conceptual power—like [Zafkiel's Sixth Bullet – Vav] time traversal, an ability worth more than entire fleets.
Could it be—had his luck finally turned?
As the light faded, Jiaoqiu opened his eyes again…
Only to find, in his hands, a simple paper-bound book. No aura. No energy. Nothing remotely mystical.
He looked down at the title printed on the cover—
"Cooking for Total Idiots: From 'Judgment Day' to Gourmet Survival—How to Cook Without Accidentally Killing Anyone!"
The title alone was already a red flag.
"Pfft—!" Sylvester, having already glanced at the system's info panel, couldn't help himself and burst into laughter.
Technically, yes—it was a top-grade Curio, infused with a trace of conceptual power.
Just… not the implement suited for combat.
At all.
Jiaoqiu flipped through a few pages, and his tall fox ears drooped in visible dismay.
What is this nonsense? Did the trash can malfunction?
If this were a recipe book filled with alchemical meals or powerful elixirs, that would make sense.
But these were just the most mundane home dishes imaginable!
Tomato and egg stir-fry. Shredded potato with chili pepper.
He'd been making those since he was three!
And worse—it even had hotpot recipes.
Ordinary hotpot, no special effects, no healing properties.
Wasn't that… cooking for beginners? You just slice the meat and dip it in boiling broth!
You didn't need skill for that—just hands!
Unless this book was made for cave-dwelling primitives still gnawing raw meat?
Teaching cavemen how to eat hotpot—what kind of genius came up with that idea?
Jiaoqiu turned toward Sylvester, clearly expecting an explanation—something, anything, that could make sense of this cosmic joke.
Even if Sylvester told him, "You just don't have the eyes to see its greatness," he would've accepted it.
Because purple Curios were priceless—finding one that looked this ridiculous almost felt like an insult.
Sylvester understood perfectly and gave a sympathetic chuckle.
"This one's genuine, I assure you. A true purple Curio. But yes… it really does only teach you how to cook simple dishes."
"This…" Jiaoqiu frowned, struggling to accept it.
Before he could argue, Sylvester smoothly continued:
"Somewhere in the vast sea of stars, there exists a continent known as Teyvat. On that world ruled a certain Shogun. Her power was unmatched—she could accomplish anything… except cooking."
"No matter how many master chefs tried to teach her, she could never grasp even the basics."
"Anything she cooked—be it with the finest ingredients or the simplest produce—would transform into something resembling alchemical poison the moment it left the pot."
At that, Jiaoqiu grew solemn.
To think there existed someone that powerful… yet so utterly hopeless in the kitchen.
Was it truly possible for someone to fail even at hotpot?
He rubbed his forehead, unable to imagine such a being walking among civilized folk.
Mountains beyond mountains, masters beyond masters, he mused.
To reach that level of culinary disaster—
That, too, was a form of greatness.