Still, the item descriptions were full of eye-rolling nonsense. If it weren't for meeting this guy, Luo Jie never would've imagined the system's auto-generated item blurbs could be so... cheeky.
That said, he hadn't expected his offhand comment to hit the nail on the head. This player with the cringe-worthy codename was actually an incredibly rare life-professional with a hidden talent.
It was obvious his hidden talent was poison-related. Seemingly any potion he brewed carried some kind of negative toxicity.
This talent was a disaster for crafting healing potions, but if he switched to making poisons? He'd be in his element.
"Smiling Half-Step Delirium..." Luo Jie mused, twirling the vial of potent poison in his hand, a glimmer of inspiration sparking in his mind.
He'd been dare not use [Death Recast] before, worried that sharp eyes might guess his bloodline secret from his repeated resurrections.
But conversely, if no one could tell he'd died, then there was no risk of exposing the secret. This poison, which produced no sound or external wounds, was absolutely a godsend—his perfect recovery potion.
Luo Jie suppressed his inner excitement, steadied his mind, and maintained his usual calm tone as he asked, "Boss, do you have any more of this 'True·Smiling Half-Step Delirium'?"
"Brother, you want this stuff?" The diminutive vendor, clearly grateful for Luo Jie's earlier advice, replied with sincere earnestness, explaining, "I wasn't sure if poison would sell well in the player market, so I only brewed three vials of this 'True·Smiling Half-Step Delirium'. Each was 10... say, brother, what do you need this for? Look, I know the poison damage is off the charts, but the problem is it only exists as a pill. You can't grind it into powder or dissolve it in water. The only way to poison someone is to pry their mouth open and stuff the pill in. But let's be real, if you can already pry their mouth open, why the hell do you need my pill? That's like taking off your pants just to fart—completely redundant! So yeah, this stuff's pretty useless. You might wanna think twice, brother..."
Luo Jie understood the vendor's well-meaning advice, but the secret of his [Subhuman] bloodline was far too earth-shattering; he could never reveal it to anyone. He merely smiled noncommittally and said, with feigned mystery, "If I'm buying it, I have my uses. No need to worry about the specifics."
The short vendor was a perceptive sort. He immediately made a zipping motion over his mouth with his thumb and forefinger, grinning, "Never ask about another man's business—I know the drill... Besides, this stuff isn't selling anyway. These three vials, they're yours, brother."
With that, he stuffed all three small purple porcelain vials into Luo Jie's arms.
Faced with such enthusiasm, Luo Jie didn't put on false modesty. He directly stored the three vials of "True·Smiling Half-Step Delirium" into his inventory and asked the short vendor, "Boss..."
The vendor cut him off, "Hey, we're friends now, brother! Callin' me 'boss' makes it feel like we're strangers."
"Bald..." Luo Jie started to say, then realized the guy's codename was simply unpronounceable.
"Heh heh," the vendor chuckled awkwardly, "Just call me 'Abbot'. I picked the codename on a whim, then found out I couldn't change it later..."
"..."
Well, after the "Ivory Mountain Chief Squad," an "Abbot Who Dares to Compete with This Old Monk for the Title of Abbot" wasn't exactly beyond the pale.
"Abbot, do you take orders for your potions?" Luo Jie stated his purpose.
For any player, you could never have too many recovery items. A mere thirty pills wouldn't last long.
"Can do! Absolutely no problem!" Abbot nodded eagerly. For someone in the consumables business, regular customers were gold dust.
However, limited by the stamina and mental energy required for his production skills, Abbot could only brew 5 pills of "True·Smiling Half-Step Delirium" per day. Plus, as a player, he needed to stockpile combat potions for himself. So, he could only spare half his monthly output for Luo Jie.
After some basically non-negotiable haggling, Luo Jie agreed to a long-term purchase of Abbot's "True·Smiling Half-Step Delirium" at 500 points per vial. In return, Abbot would provide Luo Jie with at least 80 pills per month, delivered in four weekly installments.
They added each other as friends, agreeing that if they couldn't meet in person, they'd use the system's mail for remote delivery.
Thrilled with such a big, regular order, Abbot was in high spirits. Before Luo Jie left, he insisted on shoving several more vials into his hands—"Suspicious Wound Medicine," "Suspicious Toxin-Removing Pills," and "Suspicious Mind-Clearing Powder"—chattering about being prepared for a rainy day and such.
Luo Jie couldn't refuse his kindness, so he reluctantly accepted, stuffing them into a corner of his inventory to gather virtual dust. If he ever reached the point where he needed to rely on "suspicious" meds for emergencies, he figured he'd be beyond saving anyway.
...
Time flew by, and noon arrived.
A reminder text from the Chief popped up on his phone. Luo Jie put down his half-finished coffee, paid the bill, and left the lounge café, walking along the spacious internal corridor to the mission meeting point.
The meeting point was a large conference room in the office area.
The three members of the Ivory Mountain Chief Squad were already waiting at the door. When they saw Luo Jie approaching, Chief immediately waved his palm-like hand to signal him over. His nearly two-meter-tall frame was impossible to miss in the crowd.
"Hey, Nightmare! Sleep well last night? All set? Did you enhance your gear? If you're short on healing items, just say the word—no need to be prideful at a time like this..."
Once they'd joined up, Dancer stepped forward with a flurry of concerned questions, clearly still a bit worried about Luo Jie, the "new guy."
"Yeah, all set. No need to worry, Sister Dancer," Luo Jie nodded. He knew words alone wouldn't ease her concerns, so he changed the subject, looking around, "There are a lot of people for this mission. Must be a hundred or more, right?"
"Can't blame 'em. The rewards the Japanese Ministry of Defense is offering for this mission is just too damn tempting. And this is after the Chinese military capped the number of participants. If sign-ups were open, who knows, we might be lookin' at a thousand players..." Chief was also secretly relieved he'd been in the mission hall when it popped up; a little later, and they'd have missed this rare urgent mission.
"So why cap the numbers? If China sent a thousand players into the illusion barrier, plus the Japanese players, we could probably just steamroll the zombie hordes in the illusion barrier city of Shujin City without breaking a sweat, right?"