Chapter : 549

His gaze shifted, turning from the empty, serene plains to the dark, menacing line of the Shadowfen Forest. The goblins. They were a different kind of challenge. A different quest. And, he prayed, a different, and far more lucrative, set of rules.

He commanded his spirits and moved, leaving the site of his tedious victory behind. He arrived at the edge of the gloomy woods, the air growing thick with the scent of rot and decay. He pulled up the quest log, finding the fresh, repeatable version of his old task.

[Repeatable Quest: Goblin Patrol Suppression]

[Objective: Eliminate 20 Goblins.]

[Reward: 150 Farming Coins (FC)]

The math was instantly, beautifully, clear. One thousand slimes for one hundred coins. That was ten slimes per coin. Twenty goblins for one hundred and fifty coins. That was a staggering seven and a half coins per goblin. The goblins were seventy-five times more valuable.

The economics of the Farm had just revealed their true, brutal nature. The easy, low-risk grind of the Slime Plains was a fool’s game, a low-wage job designed for the weak and the cautious. The real rewards, the true path to power, lay in the darker, more dangerous corners of his world.

“Objective changed,” Lloyd announced to his spirits, his voice sharp with renewed purpose. “We are no longer farming. We are hunting big game. Twenty kills. One clean sweep. Let’s make this quick.”

He and his spirits became a whirlwind of destruction. This was not a slow, methodical clearing. This was a blitz. He used his enhanced senses to locate the nearest, most densely populated goblin patrol. He found a group of exactly twenty, a mix of grunts and a couple of champions, huddled around a crude campfire.

There was no complex strategy. There was only overwhelming force.

Iffrit was the vanguard. A single, roaring cleave of his zanbatō turned the campsite into an inferno, instantly incinerating half the patrol and sending the rest into a panicked, screaming chaos. Fang Fairy was the cleanup crew, a blur of azure light, her Lightning Darts picking off the fleeing survivors with unerring, lethal precision. The entire engagement lasted less than a minute.

The glorious notification chimed in his mind, a sound far sweeter than the one from the slime fields.

[Repeatable Quest: Goblin Patrol Suppression - COMPLETE!]

[Reward: 150 Farming Coins (FC) Issued.]

He checked his final, triumphant balance.

[Current Farming Coins: 450 (Previous) + 150 (Reward) = 600 FC]

Six hundred. He had done it. He had shattered his goal. The single, efficient, and exhilarating goblin hunt had yielded more profit than the entire, four-hour-long, soul-crushing slime ordeal. The lesson was learned. The economics of the hunt were now crystal clear.

He stood in the silent, smoking goblin clearing, the profound satisfaction of a completed, difficult task washing over him. The grind had been a lesson in itself. It wasn't just about power; it was about patience, about strategy, and about the brutal economics of his own personal universe. He had learned that not all targets were created equal, and not all effort yielded the same reward.

His balance of 600 FC was a testament to his adaptability. He now had a choice. He could continue this new, efficient cycle of goblin-hunting, banking his profits. Or he could make the investment he had been fighting for, the one that promised to change the very nature of the game.

[System Upgrade Available]

[Cost: 500 Farming Coins (FC)]

[Purchase Upgrade?]

He did not upgrade for now.

He looked at his two Transcended spirits, who had materialized beside him, silent guardians in his private world. Fang Fairy, a goddess of lightning and speed, her golden eyes holding a quiet, shared pride in their accomplishment. And Iffrit, a silent, nine-foot-tall demon of fire and overwhelming force, his magma-forged armor radiating a gentle, contained heat.

Lightning and Fire. Speed and Strength. The Scalpel and the Sledgehammer.

Chapter : 550

He possessed an elemental arsenal of unparalleled versatility. A power base that was now, finally, beginning to build upon itself. The ghosts of his past were still out there, their shadows long and menacing. But here, in the quiet solitude of his own, private, and now steadily growing, world, he felt, for the first time, a flicker of something that was not just hope, but confidence. A cold, hard, and deeply, profoundly, satisfying confidence.

The war was still coming. But the General was now armed. He had his soldiers. He had his factory. And he had his farm. And he was ready.

He allowed himself a final, weary smile, then closed his eyes, and willed himself back to the real world. Back to the comfortable armchair in his quiet, soap-scented study. Back to the life he was fighting so hard to protect. The grind was over. For now. And the real work was about to begin.

The Elixir Manufactory’s office had become the undisputed nerve center of the Ferrum Duchy’s new economy. The air, thick with the scent of rosemary, almond, and the clean, satisfying aroma of stacked gold coins, was a perfume Lloyd Ferrum had come to associate with victory. He sat behind his large oak desk, a position of authority that now felt as natural as breathing, reviewing the monthly profit ledgers with Mei Jing. The numbers on the vellum were not just figures; they were a symphony, a beautiful, elegant, and almost overwhelmingly positive testament to their shared success.

Mei Jing, her dark eyes gleaming with the sharp, predatory light of a master merchant who has just cornered a global market, tapped a long, slender finger on the final column. “It is, by any rational metric, my lord, an economic impossibility,” she stated, her voice a low, satisfied purr. “The profit margins for the Silken Bar alone have exceeded even my most aggressive five-year projections. In a single month. The demand is not just high; it is insatiable. We have waiting lists for the waiting lists. The AURA brand is no longer just a luxury product; it is a financial juggernaut, a river of gold flowing directly into the Ferrum coffers.”

Lloyd allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. It was true. His strange, anachronistic idea, born of desperation and a memory of Earthly hygiene, had transformed the very landscape of commerce in the capital. The gold, the tangible, real-world currency he so desperately needed, was pouring in, allowing him to max out his thirty-System-Coin-per-day conversion limit with almost contemptuous ease. His SC balance was a healthy, growing fortress, a war chest being built for the shadowy, undeclared war he knew was still being waged against him.

“The credit for our success belongs to the team, Mei Jing,” he said, his voice a quiet acknowledgment of the truth. “Your strategy, Tisha’s charisma, Jasmin’s diligence, the brilliance of the alchemists… I merely provided the initial spark. You all fanned it into an inferno.”

“A spark of genius is still a spark, my lord,” Mei Jing countered, a rare, genuine warmth touching her sharp features. “You gave us the vision. We are merely its humble, and soon to be very wealthy, servants.”

Their shared moment of professional satisfaction was interrupted by a sharp, authoritative knock on the study door. It was not the hesitant rap of a servant. It was the knock of a man who did not wait to be invited.

Ken Park entered, his face the usual impassive granite, but his presence seemed to fill the small office with a new, solemn gravity. “Young Lord,” he began, his voice a flat, unwavering baritone. “The Arch Duke summons you. To the private family training ground. Immediately.”

Lloyd’s smile faded, replaced by a flicker of wary curiosity. The training ground? His father rarely used the private family grounds, preferring the larger, more formal military facilities for his own rigorous regimen. A summons there was… unusual. It was not a place for lectures on economics or discussions of ducal policy. It was a place of sweat, of steel, of the pure, unadulterated expression of martial power.

“Did he state his purpose?” Lloyd asked, already rising from his chair.

“He did not, Young Lord,” Ken replied. “He said only that he wished to… ‘personally assess the full extent of your recent progress’.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implication. Lloyd exchanged a quick, unreadable glance with Mei Jing, who had also risen, her own expression now one of quiet, analytical concern. This was not a business meeting. This was something else entirely.

“I will go at once,” Lloyd said, his voice calm, betraying none of the sudden, thrumming anticipation that now coursed through his veins.