Chapter 10: Vitality Elixir: All Attributes +5!

Jiang Yi glanced out the window. The sky had already darkened, but the moonlight was bright tonight, casting enough light to prevent the room from feeling dim. He turned back to Luo Shan and said softly, “Fireflies aren’t anything rare. Many people collect them as little ‘lanterns’ for lighting. You can ask the other daredevils in this villa; chances are, they have some.”

Luo Shan looked even more confused. “No, Gao Chang’s attitude clearly implied that the daredevils here don’t have the best tempers, right? I just joined the team and don’t have any skills yet... If I ask them for fireflies, would they just hand them over? I’m not their parent or anything!”

Huh. Luo Shan was surprisingly self-aware.

Jiang Yi raised an eyebrow. “I’m not your parent either; why should I help you defy fate?”

His words hit sharply.

Luo Shan wasn’t stupid and caught the underlying meaning. After a moment’s thought, he shot Jiang Yi a warning glare. “If I bring back fireflies and find out you tricked me...” He let out a warning snort and turned to leave the room.

Jiang Yi called after his retreating back, “Make sure it doesn’t take more than five minutes.”

Because there wasn’t much time left before the next beast tide from the previous life.

After five minutes of working alone, Jiang Yi frowned at the door. Moments later, the door was knocked, and he opened it. Luo Shan stood there, complaining, “Seriously, five minutes? Why did you lock the door?”

Jiang Yi said nothing but glanced at the glowing bag in Luo Shan’s hand—a bag undoubtedly filled with fireflies.

Luo Shan closed the door behind him and, still uneasy, grumbled, “I got them from the big guy training downstairs. I paid a precious time coin for this bag of damn things!”

Jiang Yi’s eyes widened. “You actually have time coins?”

Luo Shan nodded proudly. “A few. I picked them up in the first few days after the apocalypse hit.”

Jiang Yi nodded; it made sense. When the apocalypse first struck, many people were confused. Some careless ones ignored the value of the time currency dropped near beast corpses. Naturally, some opportunists scooped up these precious coins.

Time currency came in six types: seconds coins, minutes coins, hours coins, and the more valuable day coins, year coins, and longevity coins.

The exchange rates matched those of regular time units: 1 minute coin equals 60 seconds coins; 1 day coin equals 24 hours coins; 1 year coin equals 365 day coins. The mysterious longevity coins varied in value depending on their quality.

Formal players with exclusive fate charts primarily traded using time currency. Eventually, when the apocalypse game reached advanced stages, rare year coins could be used for cultivation to convert into real lifespan.

However, this conversion wasn’t 100% efficient; each player had a conversion rate. The higher the rate, the better their cultivation talent; the lower, the more of a “waste.”

But cultivating lifespan was a far-off concept. Right now, the apocalypse game had only lasted a month. Most transactions between formal and informal players involved small denominations like seconds, minutes, and hours coins.

At this stage, informal players lacked exclusive fate charts and had fewer information sources, making it easy for formal players to take advantage. For example, Luo Shan was clearly ripped off, paying a whole minute coin for that bag of fireflies.

Of course, from Jiang Yi’s perspective as a veteran with years of apocalypse experience, Luo Shan still got a decent deal. Information was scarce; hardly anyone knew the true value of beast materials. Only edible beast meat fetched decent prices; other beast parts were discarded as junk.

That was how Jiang Yi had managed to snag the Blood-Devouring Worm and Illusion Powder Butterfly so easily. Now that he had fireflies too, he wasted no time processing them.

Fireflies were social creatures; in large groups, they looked like glowing spheres, but each individual was roughly the size of a grain of rice—uncooked rice, at that. Their tails had pinpoint-sized glowing spots—the source of their light.

Jiang Yi carefully pierced the tiny luminous spot with a blade. After several seconds, a drop of phosphorescent viscous liquid slowly dripped onto a bottle cap filled with Illusion Powder Butterfly phosphor.

A sizzling sound erupted as the phosphor seemed ready to ignite. But the liquid from a single firefly’s glow was minimal; the sizzling lasted only a few seconds before fading.

Jiang Yi repeated the process, puncturing another firefly’s glow and dripping another drop into the cap, reigniting the sizzling sound.

His movements were fluid and natural, so much so that Luo Shan initially thought it was simple. But after watching several times, he realized the glow spot was incredibly tiny, and Jiang Yi’s technique was far from easy. Most people couldn’t do it so effortlessly.

Luo Shan had no idea what Jiang Yi was doing but found himself silently admiring the skill.

Minutes later, the phosphor in the cap was completely transformed into a deep green liquid by the firefly’s viscous secretion.

Jiang Yi slowly poured the green liquid into the bottle containing the Blood-Devouring Worms, triggering an even more intense sizzling.

The worms’ blood-red outer shells gradually peeled away under the influence of the green liquid. After about three minutes, the entire batch had shed their shells, turning into a thick, dark liquid resembling venom.

Jiang Yi held the “venom” bottle and said to Luo Shan, “Hold out your hand.”

Luo Shan instinctively obeyed but, noticing Jiang Yi’s actions, quickly pulled back. “What?! You’re not seriously going to pour that crap into my hand, are you?”

Jiang Yi raised an eyebrow. “What crap? This is good stuff!”

Luo Shan looked skeptical. “If it’s so good, why don’t you use it yourself?”

Jiang Yi rolled his eyes and moved to pour the liquid on his own hand. “Fine, I’ll use it myself. Don’t regret it later.”

Seeing this, Luo Shan immediately regretted his words. “Wait, wait! I’ll use it! Okay?”

Jiang Yi turned the bottle again and poured the dark liquid into Luo Shan’s palm, asking, “How does it feel?”

Luo Shan’s whole body stiffened, and his voice was stiff too. “Hot! Numb!”

Jiang Yi nodded slightly, thinking it was probably fine, then instructed Luo Shan to spread the liquid over his entire body.

About five minutes later, Jiang Yi asked again, “How do you feel now?”

Luo Shan’s face flushed slightly, his voice a bit breathless. “A little warm, muscles feel swollen and sore.”

Jiang Yi nodded. “That’s normal.”

But Luo Shan felt increasingly uneasy; he realized Jiang Yi was using him as a test subject. If the results were positive, fine. But if there were side effects...

Luo Shan cursed inwardly. Two minutes later, Jiang Yi commanded, “Now, check your data panel.”

Data panel?

Luo Shan silently called for it in his mind. Then, stammering, he blurted, “W-what?! My—my—my stats just increased by five points across the board? Am I dreaming?!”

He couldn’t believe it.