Chapter Thirty-Six: The Blueprint of the Telescope (Part I)

As someone unfortunate enough to have been poisoned by his own skills after a battle, figuring out how to face the recently revived Yangtze Delta was a perplexing matter. I wanted to express my genuine sympathy, but seeing his utterly dejected and helpless look, simply restraining my urge to smirk was already a considerable challenge.

“I gave my life to save the world—don’t you think at the very least you should show me some admiration?” Yangtze Delta said glumly, eyeing our stiff expressions as if we were about to turn to stone.

“Yes, yes…” We nodded vigorously, agreeing with his words, using this motion to hide the involuntary smiles threatening to break out.

“If not admiration, shouldn’t you at least offer some condolences for my misfortune?” he pressed, gritting his teeth as he stared at our peculiar faces.

“Ahem, ahem…” We all seemed to develop a sudden cough, hacking loudly. Amid the chaotic coughing, the strained, altered sound of suppressed laughter could still be heard.

“Fine, fine! Stop holding it in, you little brats—if you want to laugh, just go ahead!” At last, Yangtze Delta couldn’t bear our weird looks any longer and shouted in exasperation.

His words truly saved us; had we continued to stifle our laughter, I feared my stomach would cramp. As we rocked with laughter, the unlucky Yangtze Delta muttered indignantly, “Why couldn’t you all just suffocate…”

After expressing our heartfelt emotions in the most fitting way to our brave yet unlucky companion, we eagerly gathered to tally the spoils from this final battle.

First, each of us picked up our own “Lost Chapter of the Sacred Tome,” then we all turned our attention to the shriveled corpse of Marquis Menerval. As the leader of these vampires, Marquis Menerval was astonishingly impoverished. From his pockets, apart from seven gold coins and some ordinary potions, only one item proved useful—a pair of “Carrion Eater Pauldrons,” which increased vitality, mana, and magic resistance. This cloth armor was clearly designed for spellcasters and was of little use to a warrior like myself. In the end, Longbow Sun gave the pauldrons to Black Aurora.

Aside from the decent attributes, the pauldrons’ appearance left much to be desired. The vampires’ unconventional aesthetic rendered one side higher than the other, with mismatched straps jumbled atop Black Aurora’s shoulder, and several haphazard tassels dangling down, resembling a ragged mop head tied to a beggar’s threadbare coat.

Even for a rough human warrior like me, strolling down the street in such a hideous thing would require immense courage—let alone Black Aurora, who was a handsome and elegant elven mage. He stared at the alluring stats as if hypnotizing himself for a long while, then gritted his teeth in torment and finally donned it. I suddenly felt we ought to gift him a broken stick and a chipped bowl—such accessories would suit his new look perfectly.

Compared to the destitute vampire lord, his summoned giant skeletal guardians brought us unexpected delight. From the remains of one, we unearthed a helmet called “Will Skull.” Besides offering solid defense and vitality, this somewhat sinister helmet could boost the wearer’s willpower and concentration, increasing accuracy in combat and providing some resistance to mental magic and skills.

Originally, this helmet was well suited for me, and both Yangtze Delta and Crado, who could also equip it, agreed to let me have it. Yet I didn’t claim this enticing piece, because the loot from the other skeletal guardian piqued my greater interest.

“A blueprint for a telescope…” Longbow Sun shouted excitedly when he first found it, thinking he’d discovered a new weapon schematic. But moments later, his voice waned, “…damn, it requires alchemy or mechanical crafting level five or above to use.”

Disappointed, the dwarven weapon maker handed the blueprint over. “Anyone need it? If not, we’ll just sell it and split the money!”

My alchemy had been stuck at a bottleneck, lingering at level five for some time. Simple ingredient processing and synthesis no longer advanced my skill. For me, this schematic was like a cool breeze on a scorching summer day—arriving just when needed.

“Give me the blueprint, and I’ll pass on the helmet…” I took the paper from Longbow Sun. “…I specialize in alchemy.”

“Huh?” Longbow Sun stared at me in surprise, jaw nearly dropping to the ground. “Hardly anyone ever trains such a bizarre skill—I thought I’d never see such a tough guy in my life, and here you are, alive and well.”

Yangtze Delta also gasped upon learning I studied alchemy, surveying me repeatedly with astonished eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Their reactions puzzled me. “It’s just an ordinary life skill, nothing to be so shocked about. Don’t you all have life skills too?”

“Whether this skill is ordinary or not, I wouldn’t dare say…” Yangtze Delta mused after a pause. “…I only know one friend who eagerly picked it, only to discover the first lesson was how to build an atomic bomb. He was so disheartened he deleted his character and started anew.”

Atomic bomb? That unfamiliar name reminded me of Professor Edgewell’s lecture on radioactive decay, fission, fusion, and chain reactions. With my meager knowledge of alchemy, those theories might truly lead to some mass destructive weapon, whose power could rival the legendary forbidden magic said to destroy heavens and earth.

“Jeff, if you really can make an atomic bomb, we could throw one into a dungeon as a team, clear it out completely, and jump straight to level one hundred—ahahaha…” When it came to tools of destruction, Longbow Sun’s eyes shone, imagination running wild.

“Longbow, I’m increasingly convinced you’re in the wrong profession as a priest…” Yangtze Delta remarked solemnly. “…If you joined a terrorist organization bent on world upheaval, you’d accomplish plenty. If the infamous terrorist tycoon Bin **** were half as crazy as you…”

“The White House and Pentagon would’ve long been reduced to rubble!” Longbow Sun boasted gleefully.

“No, he’d have been caught and executed a hundred times over—if his intelligence was as low as yours!” Yangtze Delta replied with a deadpan splash of cold water.

I had no idea which era’s evil forbidden mage Bin **** belonged to, nor cared whose palace the White House or Pentagon might be. All I knew was that the telescope blueprint had finally, without dispute, fallen into my hands, making this tomb adventure quite fruitful.

We escorted Mr. Fasseli’s only son out of the woodland mausoleum, swiftly dispatching the lingering vampire descendants at its gates. Emerging from the forest, the child—so battered by hardship—finally felt sunlight, and color returned to his pallid cheeks.

We made our way toward Valen Fortress. At last, on a hillside where the fortress gates were in sight, young Fili, with a maturity beyond his years, formally thanked us and sincerely invited us to visit his home, then skipped off alone toward the fortress.

Even if he hadn’t invited me, I’d certainly go, since Magistrate Fasseli still owed me ten gold coins in commission. Frankly, had I known beforehand that accepting this quest meant facing such a powerful and dangerous foe as Marquis Menerval, I’d have demanded a higher reward. But seeing the child’s gaunt, pale face, I thought it best to show some compassion for the father who nearly lost his son.

Outside the gates of Valen Fortress, our impromptu adventuring party disbanded. My companions each had their own matters to attend to: Black Aurora said he needed to “sleep,” Crado seemed to want to “fight sleep,” Yangtze Delta appeared compelled to “have a sleep,” and Longbow Sun, speaking in his odd dwarven dialect, told Black Aurora something about “nemuru.” Soon, these busy people bid me farewell, then vanished before my eyes, leaving this plane behind.

(Today is the weekend, and little Xianzi might return home late tonight, so updates may be delayed.
Additionally, there will be no featured promotion next week, so updates will be adjusted: half a chapter at noon, half in the evening, still totaling one chapter per day (which feels a bit like changing the rules). Dear comrades, making a living isn’t easy…)