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

Since hiring Vera, Gao Deng no longer needs to check for people hiding in the gutter when going to and from school. Vera is like a razor blade; anyone who wants to touch her should first consider how many lives they have.

At the same time, he did not tear up the search and rescue request, because the missing person really needed to be found.

So he subcontracted the search and rescue commission for half a gold pound, letting those more familiar with the underground river in the suburbs investigate. At the same time, he gave Vera an extension registration, so that Vera wouldn't die and the commission wouldn't be thrown away.

Vera had no objection to these arrangements.

In fact, she began to adapt to this new rhythm of life. Her mind was finally clear enough to distinguish between today, tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow.

For example, Vera learned this evening that Gordon had invited her to a place on campus.

The place was very high, and Vera felt uncomfortable as soon as she went in.

Looking at the boys and girls in school uniforms, and the scholars of all shapes and sizes, she felt that her life had never intersected with theirs.

Gordon pulled her to sit down, offering her a plate and cutlery, as if she had reserved the spot beforehand.

After taking her seat, Vera looked around, trying to figure out where people might be hiding and who deserved to die.

Gradually, she lowered her guard and realized that this was the best place, a place to eat.

This is the university's... cafeteria!

The hall was long and narrow, with rows of extra-long wooden tables and bright gas lamps.

At the far end, the dean, professors, and senior scholars sat at the high table, while the students sat at the lower end, divided by year. Second-year students like Gordon sat on either side of the table on the left.

Portraits of scholars hang on the wall.

The deceased professors, dressed in black robes with stern eyes, even in oil paintings, seem to be urging people to hand in their assignments.

  

Clang! Clang!

As the dinner bell rang, a solemn hum resounded.

Everyone stood up except Vera, since no one would expel her from school anyway.

A part-time college lecturer stood beside a high table, reciting prayers in a low voice, his voice like a stream flowing gently through the thanksgiving and grace.

"When will we eat?" Vera asked softly.

"Just wait until the prayer is finished," Gordon said.

"Prayers can't be eaten, so why are they listed before food?"

"Because Saint Joshua distinguished between source matter and non-source matter, demons and animals, he led humanity out of the Dark Ages."

"Did he ever distinguish between being hungry and not hungry?"

"He can feed people with bread and fish, so I guess he does."

"Then he should know that if I'm on an empty stomach, I can't really hear what he's saying."

The prayer ended with a splendid chant, and the students sat down sparsely.

The academy's servants carried large platters through the hall, distributing dinner to everyone.

Gordon had done similar chores before, which involved standing all night until his legs ached before he could eat leftovers. Actually, this was considered the best job at the school.

Now that he has a little more money, he doesn't really want to face those chubby faces that only know how to ask for food.

Dinner was slowly laid out on the table.

The servant walked over and glanced at Vera, wondering what grade Vera was dressed in, when she slashed his eye at him. He quickly put down the food and walked away.

[Beer. Very weak, like someone telling a story about beer in the water.]

Rabbit stew. It ran its whole life, only to end up in the pot.

[Eel jelly. Recent events have made you wary of anything containing ribbonfish.]

【beef.……】

Before Gordon had even finished reading, Vera grabbed a piece of beef and stuffed it into her mouth.

"Too old," she said.

"You've only taken one bite."

"If the first bite makes you feel old, will the rest make you feel young?"

"That's true."

She took another bite of pudding.

"There's not enough sugar," Vera said.

I didn't expect you to be a gourmet.

"Hunger and blindness are two different things," she said. "Eating a lot should lead to accumulating a refined palate, otherwise, what am I but a barrel?"

"Buckets don't fight. Let's get down to business," Gordon said. "Take a look at this letter."

He placed the letter with the wet handprint next to his plate.

Vera didn't read the words; she pressed the letter against her hand, smelled it, and immediately gave a clear answer.

"Wet-footed people," she said.

"I'm not kidding, this really sounds like a disease that spreads in public bathrooms," Gordon said.

"They are actually esoteric practitioners," Vera said. "They worship this river and survive drowning."

"You should be able to handle them, right?"

"Of course."

Vera took the longsword off her back and laid it flat on the dining table.

Clang.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was enough to make the three students next to them stop eating at the same time. They politely picked up their plates and never came back.

"This is a fine sword," Gordon said approvingly.

Upon closer inspection, it is a long, black iron weapon specifically designed for penetrating, with its center of gravity positioned far back.

"Black Piercing Thorn," Vera said. "It's the name I chose; the essence is within it."

Gordon likes the source material.

His gaze fell upon it, and the surrounding noise slowly faded away. At first, he couldn't see it, but gradually, his mind was completely captivated by the source energy. Deep within the black iron, the spiritual light formed something resembling a sword embryo.

[A piece of iron. It doesn't like to be called a longsword.]

[A shattered miniature source material—"a wound that never heals," its opening never closes. Hatred endures forever.]

"...Do you know what kind of source material is in here?" Gordon asked.

"I don't know. The seller said it was a fragmented source substance, and suggested using it for melee attacks. I've tried it, and it's true."

"I think this will cost a lot of money."

"I've been working incredibly hard all year," she said. "I can't think about it too much, it'll affect my appetite."

"If you rely on luck to buy source material creations, it's very easy to lose money, isn't it?"

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it; nobody knows exactly what its effects will be."

"I guess..." Gordon said, "that the effect of this essence is to create wounds that never heal, am I right?"

Vera stopped moving, the fork hanging in mid-air.

She stared at Gordon for a while, a rather long time.

“Yes. I remember now,” she said. “The monster it stabbed didn’t heal. I’ve stabbed a few people who didn’t know better. It was just a small wound, but they cried for hours in the hospital and then died. Somehow, it just wouldn’t heal. If it’s like you said, then everything makes sense.”

Vera felt a little strange.

She had never known what the sword was saying before, but if what Gordon said was true, then she was beginning to understand its language.

"By the way, how is the source material forged into the weapon? It doesn't seem simple," Gordon asked again.

"There are specialized swordsmiths whose own source material is related to the manufacturing process."

"What else is in the world of hunters?"

"There are spiritual consumables." Vera pointed to her trench coat. "It's full of similar things. Combat potions, regeneration potions, suppression potions, sobering salts, healing salts, and knife oil. If I had money, I'd also use guns and bullets."

Gordon began to understand the hunter ecosystem.

The gun barrels were filled with gold pounds, the blades were coated with spiritual energy, and the equipment was infused with source energy. Every commission was calculated to determine whether it was a profit or a loss.

This is a huge business opportunity.

"So when someone like Gray casually fires a gun, he's actually burning money," Gordon said.

"Yes, it's expensive. Only people with a lot of money can afford it. Money buys equipment, and equipment helps you survive. Survive better, and earn more money."

Just then, Gordon suddenly heard a bright and cheerful voice behind him, which chilled him to the bone.

"Good evening. I didn't expect to see a hunter here." Charlotte put her hand on Gordon's shoulder.

That hand was warm and soft, waiting for an explanation.