Ch 44: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Zhu Zhu’s first reaction was, “Impossible.”

The young knight beside him echoed his thoughts, “It’s believable if you claim there’s an Acorus but how could a yangju possibly appear in the wild? Especially seven years after the Sacred Tree died.”

Ziye spoke calmly, “I’m certain it’s a yangju. If you don’t want to report it to the Chief, that’s fine. I originally just wanted to collect a few Acorus Flowers. The Sacred Tree is dead, and the Acorus Flowers are fading away. It’s better to let me take them back for use.”

Zhu Zhu suddenly realized, “You need the Acorus Flowers to cultivate the yangju?”

Ziye nodded.

When the Chief and Elders were summoned to the rear hall, two squads of temple knights arrived as well, with Jianlan and Yingtong among them. Both had been in the temple for less than two years, their ranks and ages making them among the least senior, so they stood at the back.

Hearing that a yangju might still exist outside the Shenmu Tribe, most temple knights were skeptical.

The Yangju tree bears two types of fruit. The ordinary fruit, which ripens annually, is called a “seed fruit.” The so-called “fetal seed,” however, grows at the very top of the tree and only ripens once every fifty years.

Harvesting it is no simple matter. It must be picked within half a day of full maturity. Too early or too late, and it’s useless. Determining the precise moment of maturity requires the expertise of seasoned elders.

The rear hall grew noisy, as the younger knights found Ziye’s claims hard to believe.

An Elder glanced at the Chief and spoke slowly, “This does remind me of an old story.”

The Chief, with medicinal leaves plastered to his face, gave him a side-eye as if to say, “Get to the point.”

The Elder and the Chief had worked together for years. The Elder was slow and methodical, while the Chief was impatient—a dynamic that hadn’t changed even with age. From childhood, the two had clashed constantly, yet as adults, they were bound to make decisions together: one as Chief, the other as Elder.

The Elder’s story was indeed ancient, dating back about a hundred years when both he and the Chief were young knights serving in the temple.

Back then, the two were prominent figures within the knight order and held high expectations from their elders.

That particular year, the knight commander was set to retire and assume the role of Chief. The new knight commander would be chosen from among the young knights, with the Elder and the Chief as the top candidates.

That year also happened to be a “fetal seed” harvest year, occurring once every fifty years.

Traditionally, the knight commander personally confirmed the number of fetal seeds—perhaps as a test of sorts. However, this time, he sent the Elder and the Chief to verify the count.

The Yangju tree, at its prime, had an exceptionally tall trunk, with leafy bracts concealing the crown. The tree was adept at camouflaging the number of fetal seeds it bore. To confirm the count, one had to climb to the very top and inspect each seed individually.

On that day, the methodical Elder happened to be free and went to the sacred garden first. He climbed the tree and counted the seeds nine times, confirming there were six fetal seeds.

That afternoon, the Chief visited the sacred garden and counted five seeds.

When the fruits ripened and were harvested, there were indeed five heart seeds.

By the end of the season, the Chief was promoted to knight commander, while the Elder remained in the knight order.

Many years later, the Elder couldn’t shake one lingering question: Had he truly miscounted? Or had the Chief tampered with the count?

The Elder’s aged and deliberate voice filled the rear hall, and the once-clamorous knights now held their breath, not daring to make a sound.

What was this sudden self-exposé?

Was there such deep-seated tension between the Chief and the Elder?

The Chief rolled his eyes, exasperated. “You’re still stuck on something from a hundred years ago? You’ve got too much time on your hands. Let me be clear: I climbed up that tree and counted at least a dozen times. My legs were chafed raw. Five means five. Who’s playing tricks on you?”

The young knight was silent: You also remember it very clearly, don’t you…

The two accounts didn’t match—so what had really happened back then?

Ziye stepped forward, “What the Elder means is that there were indeed six ‘heart seeds’ at the time. By the time the Chief counted, it had become five, with one missing.”

The Elder nodded, “Looking back now, it’s possible. In the hundred years that Old Chai and I have guarded the Sacred Tree, only one strange incident like this ever occurred.”

“But who could silently steal a fruit from the crown of the tree?”

“Even if that ‘fetal seed’ was stolen, could it still be viable after a hundred years? It wasn’t even fully mature when picked.”

The fetal seed was notoriously fragile. Ripening only once every fifty years, it had to be picked at just the right moment—too early or too late, and it would be useless. Even if harvested successfully, poor preservation would cause it to wither silently.

About ten years ago, when the Chief and Elder sensed the Sacred Tree’s failing condition, they took out the carefully preserved fetal seeds accumulated over centuries. Yet not a single one of the dozens of viable seeds survived.

Despite the doubts of the tribe, Ziye made one firm statement: “The one in Lu Yao’s possession is indeed a ‘fetal seed,’ and she might be able to grow it.”

“Lu Yao?”

“Is that the rumored big human?”

“Everyone seeking fetal seed these days talks about her and that inn of hers.”

“Ziye, you’ve met her?”

“How could a ‘fetal seed’ end up in a big human’s hands?”

“Lu Yao” and “the inn” had already become hot topics in the Shenmu Tribe. Ironically, the only ones who had actually been to the inn were Jianlan and Yingtong. The less others knew, the more curious they became. Now that the “fetal seed” was tied to these rumors, the topic became explosive.

“Why can she grow it when we can’t?”

Ziye recounted what had happened at the inn: a fetal seed that was weak, its membrane nearly translucent and devoid of vitality, had been revived by the big human innkeeper. In fact, it had become healthier than when it first left the temple.

The knight captain lowered his head. “It’s been seven years since it was harvested. Even the relatively hardy and lively fetal seeds are nearing their limits.”

The fetal seeds were weak not because of external mishandling but because they were the last batch harvested from the Sacred Tree before its death seven years ago. To maintain the secret of the Sacred Tree’s demise, not a single fetal seed had been used in that time. As a result, the tribe had not seen any newborns in seven years.

Though they had not given up hope, they were at their wits’ end. Every possible method had been exhausted.

Currently, fewer than twenty fetal seed remained in the storage hall, and they were growing weaker by the day. At least half were unlikely to transform into seedlings, let alone develop into fetal seed.

Now they faced the cruel reality that even successfully cultivated seedlings might die prematurely, mirroring the rapid extinction of the big humans in the past. The small people were approaching their own end.

The Elder looked at the Chief. “If this is true, you and I must see her in person.”

The Chief, leaning on a short staff, rose quickly. “What are we waiting for? Start preparing!”

The knight captain immediately began selecting people. Whereas last time no one had wanted to venture to the Thorn Valley, this time everyone raised their hands, eager to volunteer.

Ziye was in a daze. He had only wanted to take a few Acorus Flowers. The situation had spiraled out of control.

After all these years, the old Chief’s decisiveness and energy were still awe-inspiring.

…

Following the Rose Garden Guest Rooms, the Hot Spring Guest Rooms were quickly completed.

Lu Yao posted a short video in the VIP section of the internal network and opened a VIP guest reservation channel.

Both the small and large hot spring rooms were ready for official business.

[Lu Yao’s inn has gained widespread fame and upgraded to a four-star establishment. Reward: +10,000 popularity points, 100 stone yams. Keep up the good work!]

Stone Yam?

The staple food often mentioned by the small people—Lu Yao had heard about it countless times.

She retrieved a stone yam from her portable warehouse. It was slightly larger than a quail egg but smaller than a chicken egg, with a gray-black skin resembling a potato-like plant. However, its texture was as hard as stone.

Lu Yao didn’t have time to figure out how to use the stone yam just yet. She tossed it back into the warehouse and turned her attention to the system panel. She opened the map, selected the inn’s sign, and a prompt appeared: “Would you like to spend 100,000 popularity points to rename the inn?”

Lu Yao clicked “Yes.”

[100,000 popularity points deducted. “Lu Yao’s Inn” has been officially renamed to “Lu Yao’s Hot Spring Inn.”]

[System Notification: The inn’s foundational completion has reached 80%. Successfully hosting 100 travelers has elevated the inn to a four-star establishment. Current mission progress: 85%. Keep up the good work!]

Just one more star level, and the mission would be complete.

Outside, the high platform for the miniature cable car was already built. Pulleys, cable systems, safety mechanisms, and tools were all stored in Lu Yao’s warehouse—everything was ready for assembly and installation.

Lu Yao exited the owner interface, slung on her back basket, and was about to head out when her phone suddenly rang.

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