Ch 114: My Multiverse Supermarket

Julia Bates personally came to the Good Life Supermarket to sign for the latest shipment of supplies. As they chatted, Zhou Li casually asked, “Does Mia have ships?”

Julia smiled. “Of course. Mia has oceans, too. But the weather’s gotten so bad that the sea surface has frozen over. All ships are trapped in the ice—no one can sail.”

“No icebreakers?” Zhou Li asked.

“We have them,” Julia said. “But the cost is too high. Ships aren’t very useful here. On Blue Star, ships serve for transport, patrols, research, and tourism. Mia has more efficient ways to handle all those things. Under these conditions, using orka fuel for icebreaking would be a waste.”

Zhou Li suddenly understood.

Right—Mia already had cargo spacecraft, much faster than sea transport.

“So what powers your ships, then?”

“The old surface vessels use orka reactors that release energy to drive steam turbines. Industrial-class ships can both sail and fly. They have dual systems…” Julia explained patiently, like a lecturer.

She even gave an example: one of Bates Industrial’s traditional research vessels used only thirty kilograms of orka fuel and had sailed for seventeen years at a steady twenty-five knots.

Zhou Li’s eyes shone.

According to Earth’s data, a nuclear-powered carrier with two reactors used about four tons of uranium per refueling, allowing it to travel a million nautical miles and operate for thirteen years.

Compared to that, a ship that ran for seventeen years on thirty kilograms of orka—clearly orka was vastly more efficient. Even a “cloud scientist” like her could tell which energy source was superior.

When Julia finished, she looked at her. “Thinking of buying a ship?”

Zhou Li waved her hand quickly. “No, I don’t need one.”

But she hesitated, then described Newborn Island’s situation hypothetically: “…Under those conditions, how many reactors and how much fuel would be needed to move it?”

Julia raised an eyebrow. “A one-knot cruising speed? That’s barely moving. Almost any power system could handle that. You wouldn’t need orka at all, though it would be more efficient. If such an artificial island really exists, one arc2.6 reactor would suffice. But for safety, build two—one as backup. Five hundred kilograms of orka fuel would power it for over two million nautical miles.”

Zhou Li said, “One will do. If it breaks, I’ll switch to traditional power.”

Julia chuckled. “So you really do have such an island.”

Zhou Li froze—she’d let it slip. “…Something like that. Not exactly mine, though.”

Thankfully, Julia didn’t press.

“How much is an arc2.6 reactor?” Zhou Li asked.

“About four million orka credits.”

Zhou Li instantly thought of the medical capsule on her third floor that had cost around two to three million yuan. It had seemed pricey at the time—but compared to a reactor, that was nothing. After all, it could treat ALS and other fatal illnesses.

She remembered Sophia’s sleek hovercar and asked curiously, “The Moonshadow X—it runs on orka too, right?”

“Yes,” Julia said. “It’s equipped with two SLG-7 reactors, dual-mode for both ground travel and high-altitude flight.”

That was a Bates Industrial flagship design. Julia knew it well.

Zhou Li wanted one, but she couldn’t afford even the smaller reactor.

Seeing her silence, Julia said kindly, “Bates still has a few unused fishing vessels. They use the older arc2.0 reactors—less powerful, phased out from new designs. Only small fishing companies still use them, so we kept the production line open. After the climate worsened, most fishing firms went bankrupt. Their ships were never delivered—just left sitting in the docks. If you’re interested, they’re available for seventy thousand orka credits.”

Zhou Li said, “I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

After inspecting the goods, Julia left—but not before gifting Zhou Li a present.

When Zhou Li opened it, she almost cried out—it was a working agricultural light synthesizer!

Julia smiled. “Paul Bowman was stingy to sell you that broken one. You don’t need to waste time fixing it now.”

Seeing its auction price listed at eight million, Zhou Li nearly wanted to hug the woman’s leg and call her “Grandma.”

Still, she said earnestly, “That’s an incredibly valuable gift. I could trade it for a lot of supplies. Are you sure?”

Julia smiled warmly. “It might be worth a lot to you, but compared to our friendship, it’s just an ordinary gift.”

She was no fool. A bond built only on trade was cold and fragile—easily broken. Human connections, however, were much harder to sever.

Zhou Li understood. “Then I’ll accept it gratefully.”

Now that she had a functioning light synthesizer, the broken one was useless.

She put it up for auction—and within seconds, it sold for two million. After the five percent fee, she pocketed 1.9 million.

But the sum barely excited her anymore.

She was used to billion-level transactions. Watching money flow in and out had become routine.

Besides, surrounded by so many temptations—gadgets, technology, weapons—this little fortune wouldn’t last long.

For instance, she now wanted a light-brain wristwatch.

Lin Jianshan had told her that even a basic one cost 120,000 orka credits. With the current exchange rate of 1 orka = 80 yuan, that was 9.6 million yuan.

No wonder she couldn’t even afford that seventy-thousand-orca fishing ship, let alone a new reactor.

Still, Zhou Li had her stash of orka energy crystals.

Each crystal could power a light-brain watch for eight years—or a light synthesizer for over a year.

At Mia’s current market rate, one crystal sold for twenty thousand orka credits.

She had over sixty in storage, and her “Treasure-Spitting Toad” kept producing three more every day.

If she sold them all, she could earn 1.2 million orka easily.

But she didn’t dare sell too many—her machines and medical pods still ran on orka.

And if Mia’s political situation suddenly worsened, the orka supply could be disrupted. She needed a reserve.

Meanwhile, she’d also been buying more medicine—particularly the multi-stage ALS treatment.

The first stage stabilized symptoms.
The second repaired neurons—it took the longest and consumed the most medicine.
The third focused on rehabilitation.

The full course cost over eight hundred thousand orka credits.

When she had saved An Yixiao’s life using the medical pod, it hadn’t cost nearly as much—the surgery was simple, and the drugs were cheap.

Zhou Li sold ten of her orka crystals to buy the first stage and the first cycle of the second.

The rest, she’d wait until City Hall negotiated lower prices with Wolf Pharmaceuticals.

Zhou Li stayed in the interstellar realm for three days.

An Fengxuan had expected them to head to either the ancient or the zombie world, but Zhou Li told her, “We’re going to open a new market.”

“I thought all these worlds were already enough to keep you busy,” An Fengxuan said.

The more worlds they served, the shorter their stay in each one.

In the zombie world, for example, they’d been gone over twenty days—how long could Qi Jiayu’s team hold out without them?

Zhou Li smiled. “Actually, fewer and fewer worlds need us to stay long. Take this one—the people of Mia have begun finding their own way to survive. Even if we vanished, they’d make it eventually.”

Mia’s problems weren’t just environmental collapse—social divisions, famine, and despair. Yet since the supermarket appeared, most of those had eased.

Now, with cooperation between the major factions, the short-term migration program had started.

And since City Hall had a stable, long-term supply contract with the supermarket, even if Zhou Li stopped showing up for a month, Mia’s people wouldn’t starve.

They could also pre-order goods through their light-brain watches and collect them from vending machines with a single tap. Efficiency was sky-high.