Ch 152: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

The last time Ren You purchased over a dozen knives capable of harming aberrants from Lu Yao for 30 Ghost Coins each, he distributed a few to the patrolling officers who had come with him and handed out the rest to colleagues at the church upon his return.

The knives proved to be highly effective. During several missions, they encountered attacking aberrants and used the weapons to rescue colleagues caught by these creatures. The casualty rate among church staff dramatically decreased in a short period.

The church staff, initially demoralized due to the disappearance of the Quiet Chamber, found a glimmer of hope and a reason to smile again. It felt as though they finally had something they could rely on for protection.

However, just a few days later, colleagues began reporting that they had accidentally lost their knives.

They were well aware of the Ghost System’s storage function vulnerabilities, which occasionally led to items disappearing. Most people were cautious and avoided putting valuable items in the storage pouch, but some, being careless, would forget and toss their knives into the pouch, only to find them missing when needed.

In the first couple of days, only one colleague lost a knife, and everyone else reminded each other during missions not to store weapons in the pouches. Yet, in the following days, knives continued to disappear under various circumstances, even when the patrol officers refrained from using the storage function.

By the time Ren You and Jiang Lin sought Lu Yao for help, all the weapons issued to the church’s patrol officers had vanished.

The most bizarre case involved Jiang Lin.

That afternoon, while patrolling the northern district with Ren You, they encountered a girl sitting by the roadside who bore a striking resemblance to Cai Yuxing. The girl sat there, eyes vacant and dull, showing signs of early-stage mutation.

Jiang Lin got out of the vehicle to check on her but hadn’t even approached when a sudden tentacle-like appendage snatched the folding knife hanging at his waist.

Ren You and Jiang Lin had originally planned to return to the church through the staff-only passage, but due to this incident, they decided to turn back and ask Lu Yao for assistance.

Cai Yuxing glanced at Jiang Lin and said, “How could I possibly appear in such a place? Besides, I work at the DIY Workshop, which is said to be the safest place on Ghost Street right now. You really don’t need to worry about me.”

The spot where Ren You and Jiang Lin encountered the figure resembling Cai Yuxing was a deserted path just before entering the staff-only passage from the northern district.

Jiang Lin lowered his gaze, still shaken by the earlier incident, and remained silent.

Liu Jing draped an arm over Cai Yuxing’s shoulder, teasingly smirking. “This is what happens when someone cares too much.”

Cai Yuxing stayed serious. “I understand. But sometimes it’s worth thinking more deeply. Thankfully, this time they were only after the knife, not a person.”

The thought that she might have become Jiang Lin’s psychological weak spot, exploited by those creatures, filled Cai Yuxing with dread.

Lu Yao waved dismissively. “The scariest part of this isn’t the missing knives. It’s that they seem smarter and more calculated than before. They even knew Jiang Lin would stop when he saw someone resembling Cai Yuxing. That’s far beyond what ordinary aberrants are capable of.”

Ren You slapped the table in agitation. “Exactly! That’s what Jiang Lin and I are most terrified of. Just thinking that they might disguise themselves as trusted people around us gives me chills.”

Aberrants typically lack normal cognitive abilities, acting purely on instinct. They shouldn’t be capable of such precise actions as seen today.

Pei Qi’s face darkened significantly. “It learns. It grows.”

Lu Yao added, “The All Knowing God?”

Everyone turned to look at Pei Qi at this remark.

Pei Qi subtly nodded, sat tensely for a long while, and slightly opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing.

From the corner of her eye, Lu Yao noticed three official staff members standing silently behind the table like shadows, their arrival unnoticed.

These three were the eyes and ears of him. A thought flashed through Lu Yao’s mind, and she retrieved two Ghost Bracelets from her storage. “Since the knives are gone, let’s turn our attention to the new product about to be launched in the shop. This is the Ghost Bracelet. It features instant communication, storage functions, and a dedicated combat system for its users. It also has a small feature that will perfectly solve your current problem.”

Ren You and Jiang Lin accepted the Ghost Bracelets, their eyes filled with curiosity, as the shopkeeper’s lengthy introduction passed by like background noise.

Suddenly, Cai Yuxing clapped her hands in excitement. “So that’s it. He and his followers cannot use Ghost Bracelets.”

The consciousness detection system built into the bracelet could evaluate the mental state of the wearer, making it impossible for his followers to activate them.

Lu Yao nodded. “This is a very significant discovery. The bracelets have a potential area for improvement.”

Ren You and Jiang Lin looked through the instruction manual and noticed that Liu Jing, Cai Yuxing, and Pei Qi were all wearing identical silver bracelets.

Ren You asked, “How much does this cost?”

Lu Yao replied, “The ones you’re holding are the first edition, currently priced at 200,000 each. If the church decides to make a bulk purchase, there could be discounts.”

Ren You’s eyes widened. “200,000? The knives last time were only 30!”

Lu Yao said calmly, “You can think it over. If this doesn’t suit you, that’s fine. I still have stock of those knives from before—31 pieces to be exact. Oh, and we recently started offering custom storage rings. They’re safe, affordable, and portable, priced at just 880 for custom orders.”

Ren You was tempted by the storage rings. Compared to the 200,000 Ghost bracelets, the 880 Ghost ring seemed much more cost-effective.

He ended up buying 20 ordinary knives for 600 Ghost Coins and placed an order for a storage ring at 880.

Jiang Lin, on the other hand, purchased three knives but neither ordered a storage ring nor bought a Ghost bracelet.

That evening, after the store clerks finished their training and left, Lu Yao closed the shop and returned to Ghost Street with the Ghost bracelets she had reclaimed from her staff.

The first batch of Ghost bracelets consisted of only 20 units. Ji Linkai and Song Wen had not returned theirs, but the remaining 18 were now in Lu Yao’s possession.

She planned to immediately upgrade the bracelets, adding a new consciousness-scanning feature.

Currently, the built-in consciousness scanning system only served the bracelet wearer. The upgrade would allow users to scan the mental states of others nearby.

With this feature, bracelet users could confirm the consciousness states of their colleagues and friends at any time.

He learns and grows.

But then, who doesn’t?

…

Standing on the familiar shopping street, Lu Yao watched the streetlights flicker on. The warm breeze brushed against her face, clearing her thoughts.

At the entrance of the hot spring inn stood Budu, holding a massive block of ice in his arms, gazing at her with a pitiful expression.

Lu Yao had been spending most of her time recently at the pet cafe, researching the Ghost bracelet. Visits to the nail salon and the hot spring inn had become scarce.

The summer heat in Yaoguang City was unbearable, and Budu could hardly step outside.

Fortunately, the Nitean continent had already transitioned into the Twightlight Moon Season, and the weather was cooling down.

On most days, Budu could still take walks around the Thorn Valley, helping Lu Yao maintain the various facilities she had built on the Nitean continent, such as the dandelion cable car and solar thermal panels. Ji Feichen also visited Budu daily.

Crossing the street, Lu Yao walked toward the hot spring inn and led Budu inside. “Haven’t you been eating properly lately? You look thinner.”

Budu clutched the ice block tighter and followed her. “I’m not thinner; I’m melting.”

Lu Yao sighed. “Should we go back to Qianmen Mountain? I can take you there.”

Budu shook his head. “Mother cannot approach Qianmen Mountain. You don’t need to worry about me. It’ll get better by winter.”

Lu Yao sighed again. “Summer isn’t even over yet, and winter is still so far away.”

Budu, unwilling to leave Lu Yao and return to Qianmen Mountain alone, shifted the topic proactively. “Are the Ghost bracelets useful?”

Lu Yao nodded. “Yes, they’re useful, but I’m planning to upgrade them.”

Ji Qingyan brewed a cup of herbal tea using plants from the Nitean continent and casually asked, “Upgrading so soon?”

“Things have changed,” Lu Yao replied, sipping the tea, its fresh, woody aroma calming her. “By the way, I’m planning to hire two new staff members with expertise in computer science. If you know any suitable candidates, feel free to recommend them.”

As she spoke with Ji Qingyan, Lu Yao pulled out her phone and posted the hiring notice in the internal staff group.

Ji Qingyan asked, “Are you looking for someone to manage the main server next door?”

The Ghost bracelet main server was located beside the DIY Workshop on Ghost Street. Following a system prompt, Lu Yao had placed the server on the bustling street where stores overlapped across two dimensions. While the DIY Workshop on Ghost Street couldn’t connect to the internet, the storefronts physically present in the street’s real-world space, including the DIY Workshop and the main server next door, could access the network.

However, network connectivity was limited to areas within the real storefront spaces. Extra-dimensional expansions and the Ghost Street region outside the DIY Workshop were inaccessible to network signals.

In Ghost Street, the communication between bracelets relied on Lu Yao’s ability—wish energy. All Ghost bracelet-related information was funneled through the wish energy network to the DIY Workshop and then transferred to the main server via a network that he could not infiltrate.

He would never cross the stargate, ensuring the server’s security. The trade-off was the need for two additional staff members to manage the server.

Lu Yao originally planned to work overtime at the pet cafe that evening, but seeing Budu’s pitiful expression, she couldn’t bear it. She pulled a chair to the windowsill at the hot spring inn and decided to work there instead.

The little people hadn’t seen Lu Yao in a while. Whenever she visited, it was always in a rush, leaving little time for conversation. Seeing her sit down, the little staff swarmed around her, eagerly sharing the latest gossip from the inn and the Nitean continent.

Heici had grown taller. Using a ruler, Lu Yao measured the little one—he had reached 5 centimeters.

Beef Cube had gained weight, its round body now paired with long limbs. It spun wildly on the table, chasing its tail like a meatball with toothpicks for legs rolling around.

Yuanwei, Zhu Zhou, Jiexiang, and Ziye all came to chat with Lu Yao, excitedly reporting a bountiful harvest of rock potatoes and wild vegetables planted in the valley. Plenty of dried meat had been stored during the Sunshine season, ensuring the Twilight Moon season wouldn’t be as tough this year.

The new divine tree was thriving, even more lush than its predecessor. The Shenmu Tribe’s chief estimated it would bear fruit in just a few years, ensuring the survival of the Nitean little people.

Listening to their chatter, Lu Yao worked on the Ghost bracelet in her hands, busy until late at night. Before turning off the lights, she, Budu, and the overly excited Heici and Beef Cube took a stroll around the Thorn Valley. Under the light of two massive moons, the ground shimmered with a silver frost.

Compared to six months ago, the Thorn Valley now resembled a vast, ancient city. The stars sparkled overhead while ground lights stretched endlessly. Clusters of tiny mushroom-like houses dotted the landscape, wastelands had been reclaimed as orderly fields, insects chirped in unison, and the cool night breeze carried a hint of tranquility.

After the nighttime walk, Heici and Beef Cube bid farewell to Lu Yao and Budu at the inn’s entrance. They looked back repeatedly as they slowly made their way home. Lu Yao and Budu stayed at the door, watching until the two safely reached their home before returning to rest.

…

Midnight. Ghost Street, South District.

Ji Linkai lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Click—click—click.

A faint sound echoed outside his door, barely audible.

Ji Linkai strained his ears, then silently got up. His bare feet touched the floor as he stood, his face shrouded in the darkness, eyes sharp as they locked onto the door ahead.

Given his unique status, his room was in the most concealed location—the basement of the entire building.

It was past midnight. No sane resident of Ghost Street would still be wandering outside, not even within their own homes.

The basement had long hallways and over twenty rooms, but Ji Linkai was the only occupant. At this hour, there shouldn’t be any sounds.

Thump, thump—thump, thump.

After a few seconds of silence, the thumping sound continued.

Ji Linkai’s entire body tensed, and his gaze slowly dropped.

He had been outside for a long time today. He must have found him.

At this hour, everyone else was resting upstairs. No one could save him, and he couldn’t risk involving anyone else.

The Desert Eagle he had crafted earlier in the day was hidden beneath his pillow, loaded with three bullets.

He had made it with leftover materials after returning to his quarters, but the bullets were just ordinary ones.

Minutes passed, and Ji Linkai’s expression grew increasingly grim. He thought he could hear the slick, sticky sound of something slithering across the rough basement floor, like a massive golden octopus struggling to crawl on land, leaving a trail of dampness in its wake.

Then, all the sounds stopped abruptly, as if everything he had just heard was a dream.

But Ji Linkai didn’t dare relax. Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled down the side of his face, leaving an itch along its path that he had to endure without moving, holding his breath as best as he could.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Ji—Linkai—”

“I—found—you.”

Click.

The door lock yielded under brute force, offering no resistance. In the dense darkness of the night, the door creaked open, and a golden tentacle slid through the gap.

Ji Linkai’s arm trembled involuntarily. In this moment, fear nearly paralyzed him.

The light switch was just beside his bed, but he didn’t have the strength to reach for it.

Creeeak.

The long, grating sound of the door being pushed open made his teeth ache. The noise of wet, slimy skin dragging resumed—it was coming in.

Ji Linkai swiftly reached under his pillow, grabbed the Desert Eagle, and blindly fired two shots forward.

The basement had no windows, and the lights were off, leaving the room in total darkness. However, Ji Linkai had lived here for two years.

Two months ago, when Tienbrain was still operational, he had trained his perception in this very room at night.

Those exercises hadn’t seemed useful during the last mission, but the effort wasn’t wasted. He heard two dull thuds followed by a muffled groan that the creature couldn’t conceal.

He hit it!

A sudden surge of energy coursed through Ji Linkai. Relying on his familiarity with the room’s layout, he found the light switch and turned it on without hesitation.

The brightness banished the darkness. Ji Linkai blinked twice to adjust to the harsh light.

In the next moment, the Desert Eagle slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor beneath the bed with a crisp sound.

A heavy despair clouded Ji Linkai’s eyes.

The two bullets had hit their mark. He could see two holes in one of the massive tentacles waving inside his room. But the damage seemed insignificant—it didn’t even slow the creature down.

Its bloated, glistening body filled the dingy basement. Two vertical slits glimmered in its golden eyes, locking onto Ji Linkai’s pale face. Then it spoke.

“So, your name is Ji Linkai.”

“Did you enjoy the seafood tonight?”

“You ate so much shrimp and grilled eel, mouth dripping with oil. You looked like you were having a great time.”

Ji Linkai’s almost frozen thoughts jolted awake at those words. The aberrant knew he had eaten seafood that evening. And its voice—there was something disturbingly familiar about it.

He must have heard that voice somewhere before, but the memory eluded him for now.

Still, the creature’s words reminded him of something important.

As Ji Linkai’s thoughts shifted, the enormous golden tentacle lashed out toward him. In the blink of an eye, it coiled around his waist and hoisted him high toward the ceiling.

The octopus-like creature sneered, “I’ll crush you until your blood and flesh splatter all over the walls, like a mosquito smashed into dust, leaving nothing but a smear on the floor.”

Ji Linkai’s face turned red as he struggled, his legs flailing wildly, eliciting a hearty laugh from the creature.

Bang!

“Argh!”

A bloody hole pierced through the underside of the tentacle holding Ji Linkai. The searing pain left the creature momentarily paralyzed, its screams echoing through the room.

Ji Linkai dropped to the floor, rolling away to avoid the creature’s thrashing limbs. He gripped the wish-powered revolver tightly in his hand.

Without hesitation, he steadied himself, raised the revolver, and fired two shots at the golden octopus’s head.

“AAARGH!”

The tentacles flailed wildly, slamming into walls and shaking the entire building.

Ji Linkai scrambled to find cover, but the chaos left him battered as he was struck twice by the flailing limbs. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he rolled into a corner, leaned against the wall, and struggled to lift the revolver again. He aimed at the creature’s head and fired once more.

The massive target made it easy to aim. As the bullet streaked through the air, Ji Linkai thought he saw a golden trail behind it. A moment later, the bullet hit its mark.

The golden octopus froze in place, its bloated tentacles suspended mid-air in a grotesque, twisted pose.

Seconds passed, or perhaps it was minutes. Ji Linkai watched as a cluster of rounded, pulsating flesh balls began to form at the edges of the tentacles. The lumps grew larger and more numerous, hanging like tumors on the octopus’s bald head. Then, with a deafening blast, the pale pink orbs exploded like soap bubbles.

The splatter of flesh and viscera covered the walls. Ji Linkai buried his face against his knees but still ended up drenched in the sickening chunks and slime.

It took at least five minutes for the grotesque explosion to subside. When it was finally over, Ji Linkai braced himself against the wall and stood up, limping toward the center of the room. There, he saw someone lying motionless.

When he got close enough to see the person’s face, a bitter, self-deprecating smile crossed his exhausted features.

So, it was him.

…

In the dormitory area on the first floor, the narrow, dimly lit hallway remained eerily silent.

Even though the basement had felt like an earthquake moments ago, not a single person upstairs came out to investigate.

But amidst the oppressive silence, a set of footsteps echoed slowly and unnervingly.

Several minutes later, the figure stopped in front of a door and knocked three times.

There was no response from inside.

Outside the door, Ji Linkai stood, drained and weary. He knocked again, more firmly this time, but still received no answer.

“Song Wen, it’s K. Open the door. I need to talk to you.”

Inside the room, Song Wen crouched in a corner, too afraid to make a sound.

The shaking from earlier had woken even the heaviest sleepers, but now was definitely not the time to open the door—no matter who was outside, even if they claimed to be his grandmother.

Ji Linkai waited for several minutes, but the silence persisted. A complicated expression crossed his face as he stood there, unmoving.

He felt a fleeting sense of relief, but it was tinged with bitterness.

In the dead of night, opening the door was forbidden—it was their last line of defense.

But in the face of true malice, this door was as fragile as paper, offering no real protection.

Ji Linkai stood in the darkness for a few minutes before knocking gently one last time. “I just wanted to tell you, if you’re awake, take out your Ghost bracelet immediately and activate the combat system. He has found me. By dawn, I will leave.”

His footsteps gradually faded into the distance. Inside, Song Wen sat on the bed, running his fingers over the silver bracelet on his arm.

The voice was K’s.

It didn’t sound like a lie.

The tremors from earlier confirmed that those things had come. By morning, they would have to leave as well.

But should he activate the combat system?

Song Wen summoned the system panel and scrolled to the Wish Box section, torn with indecision.

…

Just as Lu Yao’s consciousness began to fade into sleep, she jolted awake.

She sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. The warm yellow light pushed back the darkness, dispelling the sudden, overwhelming fear in her chest.

Someone had activated the combat system.

Twenty minutes later, as she was drifting off again, another disturbance roused her.

Someone had signed a contract in the middle of the night, making a wish to her through the Wish Box.

The Wish Box system was similar to what the goddess Fula once did by expending her divine power. However, Lu Yao merely lent a portion of her wish energy to the defenseless people on Ghost Street, helping them escape danger.

The cost was that every time they clashed with him, she could sense it, as if an unblinking eye was watching from above.

Lately, Lu Yao had started to feel the strain. Just earlier, she had absorbed a surge of fear that didn’t belong to her.

Sighing, she picked up the Regulation Rod and dutifully began crafting a second Wish Box, all the while thinking about how she would complain to the Dream Fulfillment System when it returned.

Everything she was doing was to prepare for its recovery.

…

Morning

Having slept less than two hours, Lu Yao woke and got out of bed, yawning as she headed to the DIY Workshop.

The three volunteer clerks, along with Chen You and Gan Qing, arrived one after another. By breakfast time, Huang Qi was still absent.

Lu Yao asked Gan Qing and Chen You, “Why didn’t Huang Qi come with you?”

Gan Qing shook his head. “No idea.”

Chen You thought for a moment, then replied slowly, “He—went out—last night—to clean. Didn’t—come back.”

Lu Yao frowned. “Clean what?”

Chen You shook his head, feigning ignorance.

Halfway through breakfast, a guest arrived.

Ji Linkai stormed into the DIY Workshop, his imposing demeanor catching the staff mid-meal. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed back his words, distracted by the aroma. “What are you eating for breakfast? Smells amazing.”

Lu Yao hadn’t expected him so early. Remembering the questions she hadn’t had a chance to ask the previous day, she replied casually, “There’s seafood congee. Want some?”

The mention of “seafood” made Ji Linkai flinch. Recalling the reason he had come, he turned and left the shop. Moments later, he returned, dragging a young man with his hands tied—none other than the missing Huang Qi.

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