Having the Arbiter-General of the Luofu personally deliver lunch every day—that wasn't just face, that was profit.
A deal far more rewarding than selling a few extra trash cans.
Sylvester folded his hands behind his head, reclining comfortably in his chair, wholly content.
Seeing that smug satisfaction over something so petty, Fu Xuan planted her hands on her hips and glared. "You're getting off easy."
Sure, cooking and delivering meals wasn't exactly befitting of a Diviner. But… one could also call it caring for one's subordinates, couldn't they? A good way to promote team unity.
Yes—that sounded perfectly reasonable.
Especially since she was thinking of Qingque. That poor girl handled all the scribe work alone, no rotation, no assistant. Checking on her nutrition was only proper… right?
Good. That was the excuse she'd go with.
"...?"
Herta, still brooding in her own thoughts, hadn't noticed their silent exchange. But Fu Xuan's offhand comment hit her like a dart to the nerves.
The world had truly changed. Just days ago, the members of the Genius Society were still the "royalty" of the cosmos—the ones being worshipped.
Now, after staking all her research as bargaining chips, collaborating just to co-study a topic, she was being described as someone others were "getting a deal" out of?
When had the market flipped from seller's to buyer's so abruptly?
It's not that I don't understand… it's that the world changes too damn fast.
For the first time in years, Herta felt a twinge of—was that melancholy?
Fine. Let them say she'd been taken advantage of. The study of Conceptual Force had been her lifelong pursuit anyway.
And if she made a breakthrough—once the data was integrated into the Simulated Universe—perhaps she could finally uncover the secrets of the Aeons themselves.
Maybe even create one.
The thought alone reignited her excitement. She was practically itching to sign the treaty with Jing Yuan already.
"The last bin, Fu Xuan," she urged coolly. "Open it. We have proper work to attend to."
She'd accepted being in the weaker position, even tasted what it was like to be on the client's side for once. But her tone—firm, detached—hadn't changed a bit.
Almost identical to the way she once said to the Trailblazer: 'Come, take the test.'
Fu Xuan glanced at the wall clock. Near noon already. Time to head back.
She walked to the shelf and lifted down the final trash can.
Herta focused intently, waiting for whatever new Curio would emerge.
Once burned, twice shy. She wasn't particularly interested in the item itself, but after the previous surprise, she couldn't help the flicker of tension building within.
Fu Xuan flipped open the lid. A flash of blue light flared, then faded.
In her hand now rested a transparent plastic box, containing four capsules of differing colors.
[Mysterious Medicine of the Chaos Alchemist:By refining the power of Nihility through special means, these pills were born. The once-silent force underwent countless transformations, producing miraculous effects… along with tremendous side effects.]
"Are these healing drugs?"
The question came naturally—the last time she'd dined with the Yaoqing Delegation, she'd seen Jiaoqiu's medical concoction firsthand. A potion rivaling blue-grade Curios, even comparable to the [Purple Spirit Pill].
This could easily be something of that kind.
But Sylvester merely shook his head, lowering his hands from behind his neck without breaking his relaxed posture.
"No. This Curio is called [Mysterious Medicine of the Doctors of Chaos]. Those madmen dared to tamper with the power of Nihility itself—tried to change it. And somehow, within the path most resistant to change, their meddling gave rise to strange effects."
"These pills," he continued, "are the fruits of that experimentation. In terms of raw enhancement, they easily reach purple-grade quality."
"They actually managed to glean something from Nihility?" Herta's eyes widened.
Of course she knew of the Doctors of Chaos—a faction of self-distinguished ponderers tainted by Nihility's power.
'To exist is to be void.'
— The creed of IX, the Aeon of Nihility.
Yet the Doctors of Chaos sought to disprove that very creed—to show IX that existence was not void, to free that lonely god from the depths of its dark abyss.
A paradoxical goal, practically impossible, yet they pursued it with zeal. Most of the Genius Society regarded them as fanatical fools—chasing meaning where there was none.
And yet… if these medicines were truly forged by altering Nihility's essence, then hadn't they achieved a small part of their dream already?
For the first time, Herta felt genuine curiosity.
Medicine derived from Nihility itself? A contradiction in pill form.
Fu Xuan, meanwhile, was stunned for another reason.
She, too, had heard of the group—healers who claimed to save all under heaven with bizarre remedies, though what they "healed" often went far beyond living beings.
But what shocked her most was the Curio's classification.
A blue-tier item with the effect of a purple-tier?
Could it be one of those high-end blues—rare enough to defy easy categorization? If so, she might've just struck gold.
"Then why is it rated blue instead of purple?"
Everyone knew that blue Curios were far more common—downgrading one at that level was practically a loss.
Sylvester replied evenly, "Because each pill carries a severe negative effect—enough to cancel out its benefits. Some are so disastrous that the side effects outweigh the gains."
He gestured toward his neck with a wry smile. "Think of it like this—treating a headache by cutting off your head. Sure, the pain's gone…"
He paused, tone dripping with deadpan humor. "But so is everything else."
Fu Xuan's brow twitched. She stared at the pills in silent disbelief.
A bad feeling crept up her spine.
May the Amber Lord protect me… please let at least one of these be useful. Just one.
Herta, of course, cared little for side effects. What intrigued her was the method—what had those lunatics actually achieved?
"What are the effects of each pill?" she asked directly.
Sylvester answered, his voice still calm. "The first one—the red capsule—is called [Super Strength Pill]."
"…The Doctors of Chaos' sense of naming is as atrocious as ever," Fu Xuan muttered.
It wasn't disdain, exactly—more an ominous certainty, as her third eye seemed to whisper that the pill's effect would be every bit as bad as its name.
Herta nodded in dry agreement. Those people never did have taste. What else could explain their obsession with the Aeon of Nihility's bleak aesthetics?
Sylvester went on, "Its effect is simple—and brutal. It triples the user's Path energy instantly."
Despite herself, Fu Xuan's heart skipped.
Threefold amplification—a tempting prospect indeed. At her level, even the slightest improvement demanded years of cultivation.
The [Samsara Elixir] Jingliu once acquired was a gold-tier Curio that boosted power tenfold. For a blue-tier to reach a third of that? Astounding.
"Nihility can do that?" Herta gasped. The idea of a self-destructive force producing such explosive strength was almost incomprehensible.
"And the price?" she pressed.
Sylvester's reply was flat, almost casual.
"Complete paralysis of all five limbs. Only the torso retains sensation."