Chapter Seventy-Four: The High Priest’s Secret Treasure

To many, cemeteries are places steeped in sorrow and unease. They are the final resting grounds where wise souls inscribe the last punctuation mark upon the story of their lives, where those who have toiled ceaselessly through the chaos of the world find their ultimate repose. No one delights in lingering there, for beyond death, there is naught to be felt. Time seems to accelerate within these hallowed grounds, allowing one to keenly sense the swift approach of their own end. Thus, an instinctual urgency arises, compelling one to flee this bewildering realm as swiftly as possible.

Yet today, in a public cemetery to the southeast of Freshit City, a most unusual group of visitors arrived. Bursting with hope and exuberance, they pressed into this somber land of tombstones, shattering its silence with a cacophony of laughter and boisterous chatter. These death tourists—utterly oblivious to mortality, lacking the most basic respect for the departed, and entirely out of place—charged into the land of stillness as though sprinting a hundred meters, clamoring loudly upon entry:

“Where is it? Where is it?”

“What treasures have we snatched...?”

“Hurry, resurrect it so we can see...”

As they surged forward, a soul of a desperate outlaw began to coalesce in the void, gradually taking shape until it crystallized into a dark elf figure crowned with glowing crimson letters: “Red Wolf.”

Our dark elf ally from foreign lands, having pilfered from the young High Priestess Evelina of the Lunbury Temple, was soundly beaten and then spirited away to the realm of the dead. Clearly, he dared not employ the legendary “corpse run” method to resurrect within the temple itself; he had to pay the price by choosing to be reborn at the nearby “resurrection point.” Though cemeteries are naturally seldom frequented, they occasionally draw those who mourn the fallen—or like Red Wolf, those reborn anew. To avoid needless conflict, the dark elf waited until we gathered before embarking on another chapter of his life’s journey.

Amid our eager anticipation, Red Wolf proudly produced his latest loot—a delicate wooden box edged with copper. Though the carvings were simple and unpretentious, they exuded a noble, rustic elegance imbued with timeless grace. At first glance, it was unmistakably a treasure. The box’s name stoked our greedy hearts, evoking dreams of wealth and wonder: “The High Priestess’s Treasure Box.” This golden title shimmered like a garment of jewels, dazzling in our eyes.

“Quick... quick, open it and see what’s inside...” Feiyin’s excited voice was breathless as she fixated on the box.

Perhaps I ought to remind this enchanting sorceress to mind her appearance—at least wipe away the long, gleaming strand of saliva trailing from her lips.

Opening this locked box required a Level 24 lockpicking skill—a mere trifle for the seasoned thief Red Wolf. Under all eyes, he eagerly lifted the lid and withdrew the first item inside. My heart, your eternal friend, seemed to be lifted by a string and then stopped beating altogether. Every breath was held as we awaited a legendary magical artifact to make its debut…

A Maiden’s Makeup Box: An essential for any young girl, it contains nineteen professional tools—toner, foundation, blush, lipstick, lip liner, eyebrow pencil, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, makeup remover, primer, concealer, powder, brushes, highlighter, lip gloss, and more—fulfilling dreams of beauty. Upon use, it grants one chance to reshape one’s appearance, but not to change race (female only).

A breeze stirred the withered grass before the graves, desolate…

After a heavy silence, Red Wolf reached again into the box and produced the second item…

A Multi-functional Nail Clipper: A must-have for daily manicures, ergonomically designed for safe and effortless nail trimming, complete with a fine file for polishing and a sparkling finish. Use grants nail shape adjustment and can be reused (female only). Equipping it increases attack power by 2.

The somber sky loomed overhead as an aged crow flew past, leaving a hoarse, drawn-out “caw! caw!”—so desolate…

Sweat beaded on Red Wolf’s forehead as he shakily drew forth the third item…

“Smooth and Shiny Rare Potion”—this mysterious name sparked a flicker of hope in all present, only to be dashed upon reading its description: A mysterious formula from the distant East, a pure natural green hair care product that penetrates from root to tip, promising silky smooth locks. Use grants one chance to rechoose hairstyle (female only). Do not ingest; consequences are dire!

The setting sun painted the sky with a melancholic yellow hue; shadows stretched long, pointing toward the coming night—so desolate…

Sweat on Red Wolf’s brow grew to the size of broad beans, streaming down like a waterfall. I feared dehydration from the sheer amount of perspiration.

He produced yet another item. By its name alone, one might believe this heist was worthwhile: “The High Priestess’s Secret Treasure”!

And in a sense, it was—for this ridiculous scene alone made the entire operation worth it:

The High Priestess’s Secret Treasure: A small pillow, leak-proof and comfortable, keeping you dry, fresh, and secure. A personal bodyguard, an intimate companion, granting freedom of movement and peace of mind. Equipping it increases movement speed by 1% (female only)!

Silence…

Desolation… desolation… desolation…

“Pfft…” Someone broke the silence first, unable to hold back laughter.

This mysterious laughter freed us all. With its lead, we no longer needed to suppress our own nervous mirth; we could fully unleash our biting ridicule. We owed gratitude to the first laugher—without them, I might have burst trying to hold it in.

Laughter soon became uncontrollable. Many clung to strangers’ gravestones, rolling between mounds of earth. At first, the laughter was sparked by Red Wolf’s astounding loot. But soon, the festive mood turned every strange expression into a fresh excuse to laugh aloud, even at the risk of muscle cramps.

Only one person failed to laugh: the dark elf thief Red Wolf, who had spent a hundred gold coins on a “Evaporation Potion” only to steal these utterly impractical feminine items. His once dark complexion flushed red and blue with embarrassment and fury, resembling both a plump eggplant and an oversized bitter melon, his face stretched long. Even the famously long-faced mule would pale beside him.

In his other hand, he held the second loot from the High Priestess—fifty silver coins and thirty-two copper pieces of “The High Priestess’s Private Funds.” Though futile, it served as a consolation prize for the heavy price he paid to orchestrate this cross-border heist.

The truth proved that no matter how revered, wise, high-ranking, or powerful one might be, the venerable High Priestess Evelina was, after all, but a young girl—and a typical adolescent at that…

This time, Feiyin surprisingly showed no interest in claiming the loot. She did not express even a hint of possessiveness—though Red Wolf offered to gift the unique spoils to her, she politely declined. Especially the magical “High Priestess’s Secret Treasure”—never mind a mere 1% speed boost, I’d wager no woman would dare to publicly equip such an item even if it increased speed by 100% or more.

Spanning half a continent, braving countless mortal dangers crossing borders, walking through hostile lands with a fragile life and empty purse, this astonishing international theft ended in a pitifully laughable defeat. Beyond frustration and despair, I believe Red Wolf could harbor no other emotions. With a weary greeting, he vanished from our space-time reality.

I find it difficult to judge whether Red Wolf’s plan was a success or failure—he indeed stole many peerless artifacts from the High Priestess, but their practical value was equally unparalleled in its triviality. Yet one thing is certain: our guild’s founding plans have been a resounding success. In less than half the time expected, we gathered twenty signatures for membership, with no one falling victim to Feiyin’s lifelong exploitation attempts—a fact that seemed to disappoint her greatly.

In just two days, a brand-new guild would receive official recognition from the Falvi Continental Alliance, formally established. For eager members awaiting this milestone, their sole concern was how to pass the remaining two days. Having achieved this great feat, many departed the Falvi continent temporarily, retreating to their own space-times to rest and await the guild’s birth.

Yet Feiyin, the sorceress, was in no hurry to conclude her adventures on Falvi. Drawing a scroll from her pack, she frowned resignedly and began to stroll toward the city gates.

“Feiyin...” called out her faithful companion, Yan Zhen, a long-haired elven beast tamer. “It’s so late—aren’t you going to rest?”

“Tomorrow’s a day off; no need to rise early...” Feiyin shrugged lazily, unveiling the scroll. “I just crafted a new recipe. Since my cooking skill is about to level up, I’ll gather the ingredients and learn it before I leave.”

“Oh? What treasure recipe needs Lady Feiyin to sacrifice sleep for practice?” Yan Zhen’s curiosity drew her closer.

I couldn’t help but peek as well. The recipe read:

Ricard’s Egg and Meat Roll: To claim the last egg-and-meat roll on the plate, timid Ricard wouldn’t hesitate to challenge a dragon. This delicious dish uplifts the spirit and sharpens the mind, boosting life and mana recovery by 50% for half an hour, and increasing maximum health by 300 points.

“Wow...” Yan Zhen and I exclaimed in unison. Even a fool could see the value of this feast; for half an hour, it was like hiring a devoted priest to guard your life—a boon especially to those who confront enemies head-on with brute strength. With it, I’d confidently challenge five beasts of equal level or a boss three levels above me.

“What ingredients are you still missing? Let us help.” Yan Zhen kindly offered.

Among the ingredient list, I saw daunting names like “Fresh Purple Devil Mustard Greens,” “Aromatic Abyssal Nutmeg,” and “Fire-Breathing Dragon Chili Salt.”

Experience told us the more complex and obscure the name, the greater the rarity and value—and the harder to acquire. For example, a simple “short sword” could be bought for fifteen copper coins at a village blacksmith, while a high-grade item like “The Moonlit White Holy Prayer Sword of Vorona’s Razor-Sharp Left Hand” required perilous ventures into dangerous underground lairs to defeat powerful otherworldly monsters.

“Yes, we’ll help you search.” Yan Zhen and I nodded determinedly.

But Feiyin waved her hands anxiously, firmly refusing: “No, I’ll go alone. If you come with me, I’ll never gather all the ingredients in one night.”

“What exactly are you still missing?” I asked, noting her serious expression.

“Eggs!” she replied decisively.