Eating Hot Pot and Singing Songs

At noon, after finishing lunch, Wayne headed into the woods east of the mansion to meditate and cultivate. These woods were the private property of the Landau family, featuring a quiet walking path free from outside disturbances. He had to venture farther out. Around the mansion, the elements had either been captured or scattered in flight; aside from the fire elements, the remaining three elements dared not draw near. If they wouldn't come to him, Wayne had to go after them. Run? Heh. Where could you run? None of you can escape my grasp! Two days ago, Butler Fra had updated the weekly menu, creating a detailed ingredient list to ask Young Master Wayne about his dietary preferences. Fra was an exceptionally capable butler. Observing Wayne's daily dining habits, he noticed that Wayne wasn't fond of afternoon tea and preferred to keep table etiquette as streamlined as possible. Regarding food, Wayne had no particular favorite delicacies. Except for disliking potatoes, he treated nearly all dishes equally. Whether something tasted good or cost a fortune didn't matter, so long as it filled his belly. Moreover, it had to be fast and convenient to eat, so it wouldn't interfere with his studies. Being unpicky was the greatest pickiness of all. As a butler, Fra felt his career had met a true challenge. He gathered information on all ingredients commercially available in the Kingdom of Windsor and stayed up late compiling a table, solely to discover what the young master actually enjoyed eating. Hard-pressed to decline such hospitality, Wayne looked over the list. In truth, he didn't care much as long as he was full. But the moment he spotted rice, he decisively made it his staple going forward. Ridiculous. Rice could actually be grown on the God-favored Continent! Wayne had always thought of the God-favored Continent as a magically modified Europe. Did Europeans grow rice? He had never looked into it, but his gut feeling was that they probably didn't. Either way, Wayne had secured his desired staple and attacked his meals with renewed vigor. He asked the butler to custom-order a wok, and after three months without it, he finally tasted stir-fried tomatoes with eggs and shredded potatoes. The once-banished potato instantly became Wayne's favorite once more. Due to differences in ingredients—primarily condiments—the two stir-fries didn't completely match Wayne's tastes, but a long-awaited reunion always made one unconsciously overlook flaws. The butler was simply superb, meticulous in every detail. He had brought Wayne a tremendous surprise—so excellent, so perfect that not a single flaw could be found. Now that was professionalism! Wayne was already satisfied, but the butler was not; he wanted to do even better. The very next day, he presented another list, bringing Wayne chili peppers, scallions, ginger, garlic, fennel, and other spices. For a moment, Wayne couldn't help daydreaming about the future: before long, he'd be able to have hot pot. Eating hot pot and singing songs—just the thought of it was delightful, filling life with hope. Wayne was immensely pleased with Fra. It was only because he lacked money; otherwise, he would definitely hire Fra as his own butler. When ordering the iron wok, Wayne had drawn a simple sketch, asking the butler to order three pairs of spiked knuckles as well—surface-hardened steel with blunt studs—to enhance lethality in close-quarters combat. Spiked knuckles were compact, easy to conceal, and convenient to use. The handguard design not only enhanced lethality but also protected the fist. With a slightly more exquisite design, they could even pass as collectible pocket art, leaving the police unable to press charges if caught. They were truly the ultimate must-have tool for home, travel, self-defense, and sneak attacks. By comparison, the crowbar was simply too long. Wesley and Hood had been gone for four or five days. Busy with cultivation, Wayne had gradually forgotten all about them. Lately, he had figured out a neat way to capture elemental motes without even meditating. Switching his vision, he merged with the Book of Greed, using its tentacles to snatch up elemental motes drifting in nature. The upside: the Book of Greed's appetite was a bottomless pit. By fusing with it, Wayne's efficiency in catching elemental motes increased tenfold or more. Even if he only got thirty percent on his knees, it was still a massive profit. You couldn't even call it capturing; describing it as stocking up inventory felt much more apt. Now, Wayne could meditate with high efficiency for two hours each day, and up to three hours when taking medication. Dedicating those entire three hours to enhancing his mind and magic power greatly bolstered his cultivation efficiency. The downside: the Book of Greed was far too damn greedy. It plundered indiscriminately, turning down nothing, and swallowed up all the fire elements Wayne desperately tried to avoid. The first time it happened, Wayne nearly had a heart attack. Remembering Xifei's warning, he feared that overwhelming desires would drown his sanity, turning him into a scumbag plagued by greed, lust, indolence, and every other vice. Yet nothing happened. Even after stocking tens of thousands of fire motes, his life essence wasn't even full. Looking at the other three elements—earth, water, and wind—whose progress bars had barely budged, Wayne briefly suspected he might be a genius. No need to suspect: facts spoke louder than words; he truly was a genius. Wayne couldn't make sense of it. On one hand, he acknowledged his teacher's competence—a regional high priest had seasoned judgment and wouldn't be mistaken. On the other hand, he refused to be branded a mediocrity. He was a transmigrator with a golden finger; by no rights should he be trash. Torn by the contradiction, he habitually shifted the blame onto the Book of Greed. Could it be that he really lacked talent and his life essence was no different from an ordinary person's, but the Book of Greed had raised his ceiling, making him impossible to judge by conventional standards and causing his teacher to make an incorrect assessment? The possibility was very high! With giant eyeballs and tentacles already in the mix, what conventional standards could possibly apply? Normal human didn't even begin to describe him. Wayne felt like a drowning fish making it onto dry land, or a camel about to be crushed by the final straw shaking it off. He threw himself into the grind with immense drive, feeling as if he were back in college, pulling all-nighters yet waking up the next day brimming with energy. Three months from now, he would make Xifei see him in a whole new light. He didn't want to prove how amazing he was. He was waiting for this chance just to stand tall and show everyone that what he lost, he would take back with his own hands. I, Wayne, am second to none! But first... He still had to keep grinding. Dreadful elemental affinity was his biggest shortcoming—an undeniable fact that severely hindered the efficiency of accumulating life essence. Wayne gradually lifted restrictions on the Book of Greed, letting it stock up to its heart's content. As the Book of Greed was satisfied, he too felt a strange, vicarious pleasure of fulfillment. At the four corners of the cover, the final gold-red eyeball slowly opened. Though still grayish-white, with earth, fire, water, and wind forming the basic framework—both energy and matter—and after meeting the most fundamental requirements, the Book of Greed had formally awakened. Wayne had even more tentacles now, and his speed of plundering elemental motes grew even faster! The grayish-white eyeballs were no longer lifeless, gradually imbued with a touch of vitality. Those tiny eyes that previously couldn't respond to Wayne now locked gazes with him, one after another, thanks to the completion of the basic framework. The largest eyeball in the center of the cover represented Wayne himself. The rest held various attributes: some represented moonlight, some represented death, while even more were chaotic and disordered, temporarily unnamed. The eyeball representing moonlight pointed to the magic seed Chris had left inside Wayne's body, from which the Book of Greed had plundered some deeply buried information, though the amount was so minuscule it could be ignored. The eyeball representing death pointed to the Town of Kafuno sacrificed by the Death Walker; with a massive amount, it was currently the brightest eyeball apart from the central giant eye. The rest hailed from the Gate of Truth, categorized by the Book of Greed in varying amounts, most of which were negligible. Wayne had not yet figured out the proper way to unlock these eyeballs, or perhaps the prerequisites had not all been met, leaving them inaccessible for now. Thoughtful, he seized upon the slender clues to speculate, gradually grasping the shape of things. "Cheating really feels great!" Wayne's mind was at ease, and he no longer shunned fire elements. He was beyond conventional logic; the standards used to measure ordinary mages did not apply to him. What he needed to do was plunder more of the four elements—first satisfying the Book of Greed's appetite, then fulfilling the needs of his own life essence. "The elements around here are still too sparse. Isn't there any sacred cultivation ground where I can gorge myself all at once?" Wayne frowned. "Young Master Wayne, there's a phone call for you." Butler Fra walked along the tree-lined path and came up behind Wayne. "Who is it?" "Mr. Hood." "..." So... who was Hood again?