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Lingsha's concern toward this crucial question far exceeded anything she had shown before.
Whether or not there was a usage limit would create a profit gap as vast as the heavens.
Her vertical pupils locked tightly onto Shopkeeper Sylvester, and although she tried to keep her expression calm, her breathing inevitably grew heavier by a noticeable degree.
And Shopkeeper Sylvester, who already had a full understanding of the machine, revealed a rather playful expression upon hearing her question.
This setup… feels oddly familiar.
"There's no cap on the total number of uses. And since it's forged through the power of Nihility, it won't suffer wear and tear like an ordinary machine. In other words, its lifespan is essentially infinite."
At that, Shopkeeper Sylvester crossed one leg over the other and let out a soft laugh. "Of course, if one day IX decides that everything is deeply meaningful, causing the very concept of Nihility to vanish—and with it the power of Nihility—then that'd be a different story."
Finishing his words, he lifted his teacup and took a sip to moisten his throat.
"Wonderful! Even if mass-producing elixirs isn't possible, just occasionally generating a miracle medicine capable of curing terminal diseases is enough to prove its worth!"
Hearing that, Lingsha couldn't contain her joy. This was the ideal outcome!
The Alchemy Commission was about to welcome a true treasure to guard the entire department!
"But…"
Shopkeeper Sylvester set down his cup and uttered these two words.
Lingsha's heart clenched instantly. Why is there still a 'but'?!
She had almost opened the champagne!
She half-chided, "Sylvester, Shopkeeper Sylvester. Teasing me like this is a little unfair, is it not?"
Shopkeeper Sylvester spread his hands in helplessness. "What can I say? There's no way the Doctors of Chaos would create a completely unrestricted machine. Otherwise, IX would lose face."
"Ahem, anyway." Shopkeeper Sylvester cleared his throat. "This machine automatically gathers the power of Nihility as the core resource for crafting medicines. The built-in computer shows that its rapid-charge energy pool caps at 240 points."
"As for collection speed, it's one point every six minutes. Meaning, if you don't use it for an entire day, the rapid-charge pool fills up. After that, the offline storage pool activates at a slower rate of one point every eighteen minutes."
"And crafting one Chaos Prescription costs 40 points."
Lingsha nodded. "Meaning that, at maximum efficiency, it can only create six Chaos Prescriptions a day."
This efficiency was far below her ideal expectations.
Even if, stretched across the long flow of time, it was still functionally endless—mortals strive for every second, while treating ten thousand years like a blink of an eye? That was the Aeons' conception of time, not mortals'!
"Though the frequency is a little lacking, overall the efficiency is still decent."
Shopkeeper Sylvester shifted his "similar experience" onto this machine and began calculating on his fingers. "With decent luck, you could get a full set—ah, that's four—of sub-top-tier prescriptions within a month. And in about half a year, you'd pull a genuine top-tier prescription. Its potency would be comparable to a purple-grade elixir, with equally minimal side effects."
"Think positively. You're still so young, Lingsha. Before retirement, you could handle over a thousand top-tier Chaos Prescriptions! That number is nothing to scoff at!"
"This… does make sense."
Lingsha folded her arms, one hand supporting her chin as she pondered carefully.
Even if the timeframe wasn't as short as she hoped, producing nearly a thousand top-tier prescriptions would bring monumental change to the Xianzhou.
Since the Age of Three Calamities, the combined total of the Six Charioteers across multiple Xianzhou ships numbered only a few hundred.
Meaning one machine, within a single generation, could provide enough elixirs to cover the entire mid-to-high-tier combat strength of the Xianzhou Alliance!
And this was only considering the top-tier Chaos Prescriptions. If she included the sub-tier ones as well—
Dear heavens… it might even break ten thousand!
Understanding this, Lingsha no longer felt dissatisfied.
"In that case, this truly is a supreme Curio."
Once she crossed that psychological threshold, Lingsha grew increasingly fond of the strange machine, eager to try its wonders for herself.
Her eyes curved with mirth as she teased, "Shopkeeper Sylvester, would you demonstrate it for me? Your shop's Curios don't even come with packaging. If I use it improperly after bringing it home today, I fear you might blame me for damaging such a fine item."
"You noticed?!"
Shopkeeper Sylvester happily played along. "Our shop's philosophy is to uphold the Anti-Triple-Guarantee to the fullest. No refunds, no replacements, no repairs. Let every customer experience the true meaning of a heartless merchant."
"Pft." Lingsha covered her mouth with a smile. "You're even better at joking than I am."
Any other store running a business model like that would plummet straight into the deepest heart of IX's domain before collapsing in disgrace.
But Shopkeeper Sylvester's trash can shop? Even if he actually adopted that model, it would still be crowded with customers.
The difference between shops was vast indeed.
With a twist of her waist and a faint trail of fragrant mist, Lingsha stepped into the counter area—where only Shopkeeper Sylvester had ever stood. Her lips parted slightly as she spoke: "I shall watch carefully."
"All right then."
Shopkeeper Sylvester, leaning back with his legs crossed, raised a brow as he watched Lingsha confidently walk in. Then he gave a soft laugh, stretched lazily, and began working.
He powered on the palm-sized computer. Three beams of light projected a holographic monitor, keyboard, and mouse.
Holding the holographic keys and mouse, Shopkeeper Sylvester sighed inwardly.
As expected, physical devices are still the best. Holograms are convenient, sure, but without the tactile feedback and the sharp tap-tap sounds, there's just no soul…
The computer didn't use any civilian operating system. Instead, it booted directly into a custom minimalist interface—no graphics at all, just a pure black background with rows of white text.
This retro style had been obsolete on Earth for decades.
"Oh, right, take a look here."
Shopkeeper Sylvester pointed at one of the color-block icons. "Here you can set a login password so the machine won't be used if stolen. And in case you forget, you can access safe mode over there and reset it after verifying your identity."
"Next, as the owner, Miss Lingsha, you need to bind your identity. This part can't be changed and must be done by you."
"Oh? I see."
Lingsha leaned down, curiously examining the black-and-white screen.
Her slight movement carried a delicate fragrance that drifted directly across Shopkeeper Sylvester's face.
The two were extremely close. With a slight tilt of his head, he saw her soft, youthful face and, below her pointed Vidyadhara ear, a dangling, crystal-bright earlobe.
Whether it was incense or the natural scent of a young maiden, the aroma slipped into his nose, dancing happily with his neurons.
So close…