Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

The next day, Gordon had the silverfish box and the spider sample moved to a different location.

Neither side loses out.

The Monford family received a unique souvenir, and the school had a new and interesting research topic to explore.

Early in the morning, Winslow had to attend several important academic conferences, so Gordon and Peter had to deliver the silverfish box to the dissection room themselves.

Peter was very curious about its characteristics.

"So this is the troublesome box," Peter said. "It breathes and leaks, quite unusual."

"Let's talk about the extract, it sounds more expensive," Gordon said. "You have to collect it once a day, then extract the essence and sell it to old Buzz, but don't sell it every day."

"Why wouldn't I make money?" Peter couldn't wait to go every day.

"Things become valuable when they're scarce. If too many Deepclaws are caught, the price will drop," Gordon said. "At that point, you'll probably just be a talking potato in Old Baz's eyes."

Peter understood. It's okay to make money slowly; it's embarrassing to be treated like a potato.

"Remember to take careful measurements and don't miss any changes." Gordon prepared to leave. "It's in a new environment, so it might exhibit new reactions."

"Where are you going?"

"Consumption."

"I'm stuck guarding a box of dubious origin, while you go off and have fun?"

"Don't tell me you don't live a life of debauchery."

  

"Ah..." Peter thought of the Ross girls he had taken such good care of yesterday; they were so pitiful, stranded in a foreign land.

Gordon helped him earn the money, so he really couldn't say anything about it.

"Go and come back soon." Peter turned his attention back to the box. "If it produces anything new, I'm not responsible for naming it."

……

Gordon went to the school hospital to pay the bill.

He remembered the look the doctor gave him when he said he couldn't afford the 21 silver pounds... almost like he was looking at a dog.

The costs of rinsing eye contamination, pain relief tincture, and bed cleaning—these three words weighed heavily on my mind, like three stones.

Now they are just a piece of paper.

"Gordon?" The school doctor recognized him and immediately teased, "Regarding the last fee, you can apply for an extension; we're not against it..."

"Pay in full at once." Gordon slapped the money on the table.

The school doctor paused for a moment, counted the money, and then stared at Gordon.

As always, nothing has changed. Only a few things are different; her overall complexion is much better.

"Are there any other abnormalities in your eyes?" the school doctor asked in a low voice.

"Don't worry, you'll see the bill is crossed out."

"...Do you need me to issue a receipt?"

"certainly."

As he left the school hospital, Gordon folded the receipt and put it in his pocket. The paper was quite thin, but it looked like a badge when it was stuck to his chest.

A receipt. A piece of paper proving that you've paid off something.

Afterwards, Gordon went into a steakhouse on Knight Road and ordered a ham and fried egg, a large fried steak, all the side dishes, a thick sauce, and a large glass of ice-cold beer.

It was exactly the same food he had fantasized about while he was hungry.

The steak was served with the hot oil still sizzling.

Fried steak. It's been waiting for you.

Yes.

Gordon also waited a long time.

He took a bite and thoroughly enjoyed the moment. He no longer needed to calculate how to maximize profits; he only needed to calculate how much sauce to use for each bite.

……

After eating and drinking his fill, Gao Deng leisurely returned to the dissection room.

Peter looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Damn it," he said, "Why did it take you so long to get back!"

"Did the box grow legs and run away?"

"no."

"That expression of yours is a waste," Gordon said.

"Hey!" Peter pulled him onto the dissection table.

The silver fish box was still there, but unlike in the morning, it was now padded with absorbent cotton.

"You don't want the precipitate?" Gordon frowned. "That's wasteful, brother."

"No, look." Peter pointed to the wooden box next to him.

The box contained rows of glass bottles, each containing about fifty milliliters.

"That should last for a while." Gordon nodded in satisfaction.

"It's enough for a year, but do you know what? It's actually gotten heavier! The box is 20 grams heavier than when it first came in." Peter lowered his voice.

"This..." Gordon felt that this was somewhat disrespectful to the law of conservation of matter.

"I used all of the professor's measuring instruments, and it was a little warmer than room temperature. There was more precipitate, the color became cloudy, and the smell became stronger... Gordon, I'm not kidding, I feel like it's growing on its own."

Gordon bent down and looked at the silver fish box.

Sure enough, it seems to be undergoing some kind of mutation or evolution!

The relief is still the same, with fine fish scales and hollow fish eyes, but something seems to be evolving inside.

The unbroken string was gently taut. He felt something gently push against him inside the box, like the movement of a fetus through his belly.

He even wondered if he had experienced this moment in some dark dream.

[Silverfish Box. In the process of maturing.]

"Keep observing," Gordon ordered firmly, "like incubating an egg."

As soon as the word "hatching eggs" came out, Peter regretted getting involved.

It sounds like Gordon didn't consider this an accident at all.

In Gordon's view, this was a special kind of progress, and it was worth continuing to push forward.

"I'm afraid the box will turn into some kind of weird thing," Peter said.

"This is the Academy," Gordon said. "Even the strangest things will be dissected by us."

Peter glanced around at the glass jars containing deformed organs that had once belonged to some far more horrible creature.

Considering the amount it's currently secreting, Gordon added:

"...Seal it up; it might feel more comfortable soaking in water."

Are you sure?

"It's uncertain," Gordon said. "That's why humans conduct experiments."

Peter glanced at him; Gordon spoke without a shred of moral qualms.

It's as if anything is worth trying if a new discovery can be made.

This mindset is indeed worth learning from.

……

The following day, the silverfish box was carefully placed into a sealed container.

It was immersed in its own secreted "warm bed of amniotic fluid," and the amount of fluid secreted finally stabilized. The surface of the capsule no longer leaked fluid wildly, and only occasionally released a few small bubbles in the water, guarding some kind of abnormality inside.

Professor Winslow was concerned with something else entirely: the directional attraction of the precipitate to the Deepclaw.

"Science doesn't accept paraphrasing." Winslow, wearing a fisherman's hat and carrying a notebook, led Gordon away from the school. "You said it could lure Deepclaws. Maybe it's true. Maybe you just happened to stumble upon a gathering of Deepclaws while you were standing by the river."

"How is that possible?" Gordon said helplessly.

"According to research, some Deepclaws have intelligence close to that of human children. They may be playing, learning, or even engaging in some kind of low-level social behavior," Winslow said meticulously. "I know how to distinguish the differences, which is why I have a PhD in Source Natural History, Extraordinary Biology, and two other doctorates, while you are a sophomore."

"In the eyes of the Deepclaws, there is no difference between professors and students," Gordon said.

"You don't need to worry about security," Winslow said. "I've already hired a bodyguard. A very reliable professional hunter, one of the best in town."

"He's one of the top names in the city," Gordon repeated, a sense of foreboding creeping into his heart. "Does he have an office on Wycliffe Street, and his last name is Gray?"

Professor Winslow turned his head.

How did you know?

……

South of Lundnium, next to Hammer Bridge, on the banks of the Blackwater River.

The guards were already waiting on the shore.

Grey and white hunting attire, short cloak, with a white raven silver button on the collar.

Arthur Gray.

The two looked at each other, and the air was silent for a moment.

"...It's you," Gray said.

"..." Gordon shrugged.

The moment Gray saw Gordon, an absurd thought flashed through his mind.

Was this kid doing it on purpose?

First, intercept the Earl's commission, then hire yourself through the professor.

He began to reflect on whether he had said something he shouldn't have, something that might have offended Gordon.

"You two know each other?" Winslow asked in surprise. "When did Gordon start paying for consultations?"

"It's nothing." Gray turned to the side.

He had just received a 20-pound gold consultation fee from the Earl of Montfort, but accomplished nothing, as a university student had stolen his business.

Today, he received another 20 gold pounds from Professor Winslow and came to the riverbank very early in the morning—

They were protecting the same college student.

the most important is……

It's very likely still for the purpose of baiting.

“You know,” Gray began slowly, “I’ve been in this business for twelve years. I’ve hunted down leader-level Otherworldly beings. I’ve protected the safety of dozens of important figures. My name has appeared in the Lundnim Morning Post.”

"One of the most trustworthy hunters in the whole city," Gordon nodded.

"And this morning," Gray said, "my job was to make sure you got safely into the river..."

"Your expertise won't go to waste," Gordon reassured him. "If anything goes wrong with the baiting, we'll have to rely on you."

Gray decided to stop talking to him.

He turned to Winslow and resumed his professional attitude.

"Professor, let me be clear from the start. There are other creatures in this river besides Deepclaws. If things get out of control, I'll take responsibility for your survival, but not for anything else," Gray said.

"That makes sense." Winslow looked down, clearly more concerned with the accuracy of his pocket watch. "Gordon, are you ready?"

"Anytime." Gordon picked up his suitcase.

The experiment begins.

Gordon took out the diluted amniotic fluid from the warm bed and sealed it in a thin glass tube. It was so pale that its color was almost invisible. He unplugged the tube and poured the liquid into the Blackwater River. Then he stared intently at the surface of the river.

Winslow raised his pocket watch, stared at the river, his expression fervent, as if waiting for a worthy paper to be published to climb ashore.

Gray stood three steps away, his hand on the trigger.

He suddenly realized that the scariest thing about this job was that normal people don't want to cause trouble, but these two genuinely hoped that a big monster would jump out of the river.

They were a perfect teacher-student pair.