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

Gordon entered the room and saw Charlotte running towards him.

Summer had arrived, and she looked even cooler, wearing a light blue daytime skirt, white boat socks, and buckled leather shoes. She held her golden ponytail in place with a pearl hair clip and slowed down a few steps away from Gordon.

"You've arrived."

"I'm here to check the results and see how big the biggest rat in Lundnium can grow," Gordon said.

To continue his experiments, he dug in the mud for a while longer, which increased his spiritual reserves and provided scaly crystalline salt for the experiments, killing two birds with one stone.

Charlotte led him to a large room, where Gordon stopped abruptly, seeing four layers of brass cages.

Each floor has many rat cages, lined with shavings that rats love, and equipped with food troughs and water pipes. Each cage has a label and number.

"Oh my God!" Gordon exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" Charlotte put her hands on her hips, looking at Gordon's expression with satisfaction.

"I thought there were only four."

"No, I knew right away that 'four' was just a stress response to your poverty. That's why I added a zero at the end." Charlotte shook her finger.

"You really understand me. Lots of harpy rats. Did you check them against what I told you to check?" Gordon walked past the rat cages, which were whimpering and squeaking.

"Of course." Charlotte handed Gordon a notebook.

The above records the control group of mice. Each batch was fed with different concentrations, and the mice's weight, water intake, fur color changes, and aggressive behavior were all marked to ensure that the concentration was the only variable.

  

"That's great!" Gordon exclaimed in amazement. "I'm starting to worry that you'll put your name before mine."

"It happens all the time." Charlotte led Gordon to see the mice. "There's one here... a very special one."

Most mice either grind their teeth on the wood or expend energy on the running wheel. Some, having ingested too much spiritual energy, simply hug the water tank and wait to take another sip.

Only one large white rat lay stiffly on the wood shavings, its death appearing rather perfunctory.

[A large white rat. It has a strong desire to perform.]

"Is he dead or alive?" Gordon bent down to observe.

"It was fed the highest concentration of water, only drinking 99% of the Blackwater River water, and half of the crystallized salt was fed to it. Now it seems that it didn't die very seriously, and it will revive as long as it comes into contact with enough water."

"And then what?"

"It's become very dignified," Charlotte said.

She picked up the kettle, pinched her nose, and poured the foul-smelling water into the sink.

The white rat sprang up and jumped into the water.

Before long, it raised its back, tucked its front paws in, and stood up on its hind legs, its black eyes staring at Gordon and Charlotte as if complaining that they had fed it too late.

The mouse is a third larger than before and has a very strong leadership presence.

"Squeak!"

"Chirp?"

"Squeak!" it squealed, and the mice that were still moving around immediately fell silent and trembled.

"Do you understand?" Charlotte whispered. "It has already established a rat dynasty. We are the ones who have caused it so much suffering."

It angrily pointed at the feed box.

"The Rat King is begging for food," Gordon observed.

"To give or not to give?"

"Increase the dosage." Gordon nodded. "This rat isn't good enough to make the midterms report remember us."

"Chirp!" The white rat seemed to understand the words and bumped against the cage.

Charlotte was startled and grabbed a 700-page copy of the Imperial Infectious Diseases Yearbook, covering it with the book to forcefully suppress its ambitions.

"Where to next?" Charlotte turned her head.

"Find your father." Gordon nodded. "It's time to turn the secrets of the Blackwater River into some real money."

The white rat stared at Gordon and Charlotte's retreating figures, put its two paws together, sat on the ground, and slowly squinted its eyes.

……

They went to the study.

There is a tall window that lets in the May sun, and a globe sits on the desk, with the territory of the Logris Empire painted in a striking gold.

The sun shines on the land of this country at all times.

Earl Guy Monford is reviewing the budget for the Blackwater River project.

Thanks to the underground hydrographic maps, he is now much more aware of these figures, understands the risks behind them, and knows where a den of thieves might be lurking. This has recently boosted his reputation within aristocratic circles.

"Father," Charlotte said as she entered the room, "Gordon's here."

Gordon.

The Earl of Montfort neither liked nor disliked him; this man had intruded into the Earl's well-organized life and won Charlotte's admiration.

What will the future hold? The count couldn't say for sure.

He had to admit that he couldn't figure out Gordon. This made him uncomfortable, and he remained vigilant.

"Mr. Vic," Earl Monford glanced at Gordon, "I thanked you for the map you gave me last time. And this time... I believe you didn't come empty-handed."

"Of course, I brought mud." Gordon placed a box on the table and opened it for the Earl to see.

Inside, however, lies a spiritual crystal of fluorescent green.

The count narrowed his eyes.

He knew the secrets of the source material industry.

Spiritual crystals are the underlying logic of industry; they can be transformed into elixirs, enhance the effects of bullets, and drive spiritual engines.

"I can still distinguish between mud and spirit," Earl Montfort said calmly.

"They used to be the same thing," Gordon said.

The Earl of Montfort understood.

He picked up the box and played with it in his hands.

"Blackwater River?"

"Yes, I have a road in the Blackwater River. It's risky, but the profits are high."

"Purity?" he asked.

"The spiritual concentration is around 80%, which can be directly used in spiritual crafts. Moreover, it is 'water-phase' spirituality, naturally suitable for making potions. The raw material itself is mud. The main costs are labor, precipitated salt, separation liquid, and reactor losses. There is also compensation for workers being dragged away by water monkeys," Gordon explained in detail.

"continue."

"More importantly, one source of raw materials can generate three kinds of revenue, sir. The Blackwater River was originally going to be dredged. The city hall is now paying people to dredge the silt away, that's the first revenue. The silt goes into the refinery, that's the second revenue. The remaining sludge can be used to make bricks, pave roads, or fill in the pits of some artificial lake, that's the third revenue."

Earl Montfort began to think very seriously.

His family has always lacked such an entrance...

Railroads, banks, and spiritual industries are emerging.

They can still make a living from real estate and farms now, but in another generation, when Charlotte Monford comes to power, the family will soon become insignificant, and will be talked about with contempt and pity.

Therefore, transformation is necessary.

He just didn't expect that the spiritual industry, which was a good starting point for the Monford family, would begin with mud. Perhaps this was the blessing that Gordon brought.

"I guess not all mud is valuable," the count said, looking up.

"It can be located and analyzed. I can only say that the profit-making efficiency of high-concentration sludge is a level higher than simply dredging mud from the river. However, the process cannot be disclosed at present."

"Neither can I?"

"The main problem is that I haven't seen a contract that's good enough yet," Gordon said.

Earl Montfort and Gordon locked eyes.

The two men were silently calculating, each analyzing the risks and profits, and deciding what to say next.

Charlotte glanced over from the side and found it quite amazing.

"The problem is," Earl Monford held up a finger, "that Parliament could declare the silt a national strategic asset at any time."

"Then let it become a strategic asset! As long as we get in early enough, we'll be the most qualified contractor. We should even proactively turn it into a national asset, then start pushing for licensing, restricting entry barriers, and welding the doors shut."

The Earl nodded slowly. He didn't know whether the vehicle Gordon was referring to was a horse-drawn carriage or a train.

"You've already thought about it," he said approvingly.

"If you want to make money, you can't just look at the profit; you also have to figure out who will come to take it from you." Gordon thought of his ritual, and it was the same principle.

Earl Montfort leaned back in his chair, already beginning to see the refinery, contracts, and profit figures.

"This is a business deal." Count Monford took out a piece of paper and began to write. "What do you want?"

"Technology as equity".

"If you break even in the first year, I'll give you 40% of the shares."

"Very good, very good."

money!

Gordon could already see the gold pounds rolling toward him.

"Don't be too happy yet. The key lies in the Emperor's wishes. To realize our ideals, we need a royal charter," the Earl said.

Upon hearing the Earl's words, Gordon's smile faded, and he subconsciously glanced at the golden expanse of the globe.

The mayor of Lundnium changes constantly, the members of the council are replaced, nobles come and go, and even the monarch's wives and children are born, grow old, get sick, and die, and then new ones take their place.

Only the emperor himself remains forever young, like a golden flame illuminating the nation, maintaining peace under Logris's rule.

In other words...

Gordon's idea of ​​squeezing profits out of the mud will eventually be seen by the most mysterious eyes of the empire.

"You can get a license?" Gordon asked curiously.

"I will make it appear where His Majesty should see it," the Earl said calmly. "As for whether His Majesty will agree, no one in this world can guarantee that."

"This arduous and demanding task is now entrusted to you."

"Of course." The Earl was used to Gordon's way of speaking.

"I have another suggestion." Gordon decided to strike while the iron was hot to ensure he got the money.

"speak."

"...You should introduce the Blackwater Hermitage to His Majesty. This group is different from ordinary cults. They turn ordinary people into 'wet-footed people' who do not pay taxes, serve in the military, work, or consume. They are good at causing destruction in the city and firmly believe that human society should sink into the sea." Gordon was determined to fully report the threat of the Blackwater Hermitage.

"..." Earl Monford seemed to be deep in thought.

Indeed, this is terrible; it's undermining the foundation of the nation.

"And they worship a 'fishing king' who lives in the river," Gordon added, "a country cannot have two kings."

This statement had an even better effect than Gordon had anticipated, and the Earl's eyelids twitched slightly.

Are there any clues regarding the existence of the "King of Fishermen"?

"There's only one person in the world with a lead, Eve Grant," Gordon admitted.

"An exiled mystic scholar," the count mused.

"In any case, we have already grasped the edge of the Fishing King's influence. His Majesty is not unaware that there is a problem with the Blackwater River. He is just waiting for someone perceptive enough to suggest a solution to him, such as starting by dredging the mud from the Blackwater River."

The count looked at Gordon, and a clear appreciation finally appeared in his eyes.

"Very good," he said.

"Since that's so kind of you... I'd also like to borrow one of your properties. I need it for a research project, for six to eight weeks."

The Earl realized this was Gordon's true intention. Information for information, resources for resources—very much in line with Gordon's style. He should have expected this.

Will this "topic" explode?

"Not really," Gordon shrugged. "But I can't guarantee it. If it's ruined, I can use the money I make from the workshop to cover it."

"Using money you haven't earned yet to cover losses you haven't incurred yet." The count nodded. "You're becoming more and more like a businessman."

"That's right."

The Earl of Montfort said nothing more and found a map of their property.

The family's wealth was adorned with gold thumbtacks, densely distributed throughout the city and beyond. These represented manors, farms, warehouses, and buildings whose purpose they themselves had forgotten.

"Pick one. I'll go see one in six to eight weeks." Earl Montfort said, his hands behind his back.

Gordon's gaze swept across the map.

Excluding everything along the Blackwater River... it's relatively safe and gives people peace of mind...

"Hmm...this." Gordon instantly located the perfect spot.

Golden Oak Estate

It was situated on a hill, far from any tributary of the Blackwater River, making it ideal for Gordon's mysterious grand experiment. Strangely, its gold thumbtacks looked unusually small, as if it didn't want anyone to see them.

Charlotte gave a soft "Eh," and Earl Montfort's expression changed as well.

"...Golden Oak Estate, that's where my mother used to live," she said.

"Now, it all depends on Charlotte's wishes," said the Earl of Montfort. "It was passed down to her by her mother. It's not up to me to decide."

The count turned around and sat back down in his chair.

He continued calculating how the mud would be converted into gold pounds, a thousand tons, ten thousand tons; thinking about these numbers kept him from getting upset.

Charlotte pursed her lips.

She used to visit Golden Oak Estate every spring.

One year, however, her mother and father left the entire family for a month, and only the Earl of Montfort returned after that month. Her mother disappeared somewhere in the world.

Golden Oak Estate has been locked for seven years.

As always, no one was willing to tell her what had happened, as if she deserved to know nothing. So Charlotte was always worried that the people she cared about would disappear one by one, leaving her alone in the world in the end.

"Is that a suitable place for your experiments?" Charlotte asked Gordon.

"...It looks suitable on the map. If you're not willing, I'll find somewhere else right away." Gordon didn't beat around the bush.

"Well then, Gordon, let's go take a look together." Charlotte rubbed her eyes and smiled again. "I haven't been in ages."

"Take the guards with you, and be careful. There might be monsters in the countryside." The count didn't look up. "...We can also search around some more. Elena might have left something behind; she's always like that."