"Such a terrifying talent, yet she doesn't dabble in the medical arts. What a pity."
Though Jiaoqiu said "medical arts," what he truly meant in his heart was "the art of poison."
To turn ordinary ingredients into poison with delicate hands—if she ever laid her hands on true toxins, wouldn't that be something else? Her future would be limitless!
An apothecary who doesn't dream of becoming a chef isn't a good strategist. Couldn't that monarch be a little more flexible? If she changed her thinking, she might just open the door to a whole new world.
He silently made up his mind. If he ever had the fortune to meet this person, he would absolutely ask her about her techniques for poisoncraft.
Watching Jiaoqiu's expression shift from pity to awe, Shopkeeper Sylvester couldn't help but find it odd.
By reason, any professional who learns of someone possessing the ultimate reverse talent in their own field should feel some degree of outrage, right?
Take a more extreme example—like Doctor Veritas. If she ever met a teacher whose mind was stiff as a brick, she might get so worked up she'd yell "Negative points!" and toss a piece of chalk straight at their head.
Yet Jiaoqiu seemed to approve of Raiden Ei? And through those still-closed eyes, Sylvester could even see a hint of… mutual recognition?
Could it be he's also curious about the limits of how bad food can taste? Then I recommend concentrated bean soda paste with marinated stinky squid tentacles. Even the Medicine King would praise it!
…Medicine King?
At that thought, Sylvester suddenly understood.
No wonder. Of course. He had nearly forgotten—this foxian was a physician, and one deeply versed in poisons. A man who healed with one hand and wrought calamity with the other. To his allies, a lifesaving doctor; to his enemies, a deadly poison fox. Flexible, never confined by rules or dogma.
A man like that feeling regret over Raiden Ei's "talent" wasn't strange at all.
He was probably already thinking about how to convince her to abandon the "food is meant to be eaten" mindset and embrace the more advanced idea of "every meal, every drink—a fatal dose."
To be fair, if that idea actually succeeded, the result might indeed be terrifying—a poison so refined it could slay an Aeon.
But Jiaoqiu had no idea that the monarch in question was utterly incapable of "flexibility." Her most practiced art was ceasing to think entirely. Meditating alone for five hundred years in an isolated pocket world—that wasn't something just any shut-in could do.
And she did it, fueled by grief over her sister's sacrifice and obsession with eternity. Trying to persuade that blockhead? Not even the silkiest tongue could manage that.
Besides, she had another pink-haired fox advising her—one whose mind was as sharp as her beauty. When it came to intelligence alone, that fox was second to none.
Sylvester pinched his chin and said calmly, "No need to dwell on it. After reading that book, the shogun cured her curse of not being able to cook. She can now prepare normal dishes."
At that, Jiaoqiu's fox ears twitched slightly, but rather than showing embarrassment at being seen through, his tone only grew more wistful. "Ah, what a pity. If she had pursued the path of medicine, she could've opened an entirely new frontier for us all."
He glanced again at the book in his hand, sincerely feeling that this purple Curio should have been black. Purely a counterproductive effect! Why was it placed in a purple Trash Can? It made no sense at all!
Watching the lament spread across Jiaoqiu's face, Sylvester grumbled inwardly.
If you ever said that to Raiden Ei's face, she'd fry you on the spot.
What's wrong with Ei? Her cooking's only a little bad—just a tiny bit! She's capable of improvement!
And besides, if Ei ever got this book, she'd be overjoyed. Even the general puppet might smile. If she could cook a decent plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes, wouldn't that count as miraculous?
Ei would probably treat it as a national treasure—second only to the Musou Isshin.
Still unwilling to let it go, Jiaoqiu asked, "May I ask, sir, where exactly is this 'Teyvat' located in the universe?"
Sylvester's brow twitched, but he replied casually, "There's an Emanator of Nihility named Acheron. When her mind's clear, she might know."
"Emanator of Nihility, you say?" Jiaoqiu nodded solemnly, committing the information to memory.
Then he returned to the counter and opened his next Trash Can.
He lifted the lid—and a green light emerged.
Still thinking about how to advance in the medical arts, he let his guard down and accidentally dropped the Curio.
In that brief instant, he saw what it was—a palm-sized, thick flat cake.
As the cake fell toward the floor, a pang of guilt struck him. He had always treated ingredients with reverence. To waste food like this by accident felt shameful.
But what happened next stunned him.
The cake hit the ground with a metallic clang-clang-clang, bounced a few times, and left not even a crumb behind.
What—? Could flour even do that?
He picked it up carefully. There wasn't a single scratch on it. On its surface, the molded character for "Ore" gleamed with an oily luster, proudly displaying its hardness.
Wasn't this just a mooncake? A basic pastry that should be soft and fragrant—how could it be as hard as a weight stone?
Sylvester waved his hand, a faint nostalgia in his voice. "As you see, that's a mooncake. But it comes from a civilization with customs similar to the Xianzhou. It's a holiday gift made by a mining academy for its students. Unlike the flaky, crumbly Xianzhou mooncakes, theirs are built for extreme durability and long storage."
Ah, so it was food from beyond the Xianzhou—that explained why it felt so different.
Still… wouldn't eating this be inconvenient?
Then again, it matched his aesthetic rather well. A mooncake that could be eaten and used as a weapon—or to crack walnuts in a pinch. Multipurpose. And Ingenious, really.
Perhaps it could serve as a fine military ration?
Jiaoqiu decided that once he returned, he'd study this thing carefully and develop its potential—for the benefit of the Yaoqing soldiers' meals.
He returned to the shelf and chose his third Trash Can.
Looking at the two Curios he'd obtained so far, he chuckled and shook his head.
Indeed, luck played too large a part in these Curio Trash Cans.
That book, while useless, was still a purple Curio. If Lady Luck had given him that one small blessing, she surely wouldn't look his way again.
With that in mind, he opened the third can.
A blue light shimmered. Jiaoqiu calmly closed his eyes, unbothered.
Though blue Curios could include powerful items like the [Interstellar Probe], after the lesson from the [Cookbook for Total Idiots] he no longer dared expect much.
Yet fate loved irony.
As the saying goes—those who plant flowers intentionally see none bloom, while the willows thrive where none are planted. With his expectations gone, something valuable finally appeared.
When the light faded, a talisman fluttered into Jiaoqiu's palm.
[Substitute Talisman:When placed beforehand in a safe location, it can be activated manually or automatically upon receiving a fatal strike, transferring the user to the talisman's location while leaving behind a short-lived afterimage to confuse the enemy.]