Chapter 18: Angel Investor
Ever since that spectacular display of "severed limb regeneration" and "bald-to-hair miracle" had unfolded live before the crowds at the Church of the Water God's front gate, Thunderclap City had practically exploded. The church's name was now fully, indisputably on the map—its fame blazing hotter than wildfire.
The street in the city's western district where the church was located was now ten times livelier than the New Year's fair. From dawn till dusk, the flow of people never ceased—shoulder to shoulder, packed so tight you could barely squeeze through. And this surging tide of humanity was no longer limited to commoners seeking awakenings or free cake. Woven into the crowd now were large numbers of new faces—well-dressed, their eyes burning with fervent hope.
The madness had even spilled over to the surrounding businesses. The elderly woman selling flatbread next door was moving several extra basketfuls a day. The tea vendor and the hawker of cheap peace charms had all seen their business boom, grinning from ear to ear and declaring the Church of the Water God their personal God of Wealth.
The wealthy merchants and respectable nobles who had once looked down their noses at this "ramshackle operation"—their faces now changed faster than the weather in June. Just days ago they'd been privately mocking the church as a "refuge for paupers." Now, in the blink of an eye, they were putting on their most sincere smiles, dispatching servants laden with hefty gift boxes while they themselves squeezed into the crowd (or sent their stewards in their stead), craning their necks just to catch a single audience with Pope Furina.
Their goal? Bald as a monk's head—obvious to anyone. They were all after that heaven-defying fourth soul skill of hers: the Golden Doughnut Vanilla Cake.
The thing's effects were simply absurd! "Reviving the dead and restoring flesh to bone" might be an exaggeration, but severed limb regeneration and the vanishing of chronic, incurable ailments—that countless people had witnessed with their own eyes! And with that bonus hidden easter egg of hair growth on top! Which great clan didn't have a few younger members left crippled and dispirited from soul beast hunts? Which wealthy merchant didn't have an elder wasting away on a sickbed, beyond the reach of any physician?
Even if one's own family had no immediate need, taking this storable "divine object" to auction in a larger city—how many glittering gold soul coins would that fetch? This had already transcended the realm of healing. It had become a bargaining chip of power, a symbol of unimaginable wealth.
What a pity, then, that all these normally untouchable, lofty figures couldn't so much as brush the hem of Furina's skirt these days.
Their Lady Pope was thoroughly fed up with the endless, roundabout appeals for audiences. She loathed this sort of hypocritical social maneuvering. So, with magnificent shamelessness, she'd dumped the entire mess—the gilded invitation letters snowing in, the expensive gifts piling up in the side rooms, the stewards and lobbyists circling the courtyard like sharks seeking any crack to wriggle through—all onto Neuvillette.
She herself had bolted faster than a startled rabbit, retreating to the inner quarters under the noble pretext of "attending to graver matters concerning the church's future."
Neuvillette stood before the mountain of invitations and gifts that nearly threatened to bury the desk, listening to the clamor of voices outside—straining to maintain decorum yet unable to mask their urgency. In those deep azure eyes, a trace of the faintest resignation flickered, barely perceptible.
To think that back in the Palais Mermonia, handling cross-border trade disputes and judging high criminals had never seemed quite so... raucous and direct. He let out a near-soundless sigh (his breathing so steady one could hardly detect it) and, in almost an instant, recovered that customary calm and authority—the kind that seemed capable of freezing time itself.
He tackled this sudden outbreak of "fervor" with astonishing efficiency. First, an exquisitely crafted wooden placard, its wording rigorously precise, was erected at the most conspicuous spot by the main gate. On it, in clear, cold, sharply incisive script, were engraved the "Provisional Regulations for Treatment Requests":
Cases that are neither life-threatening nor permanent disabilities untreatable by ordinary means will not be accepted in principle. Do not waste one another's time.Those with genuine treatment needs must first register, providing a detailed account of the injury or illness and its cause, then await review and preliminary assessment. Priority will be determined by urgency.Treatment fees are exceedingly high and will be negotiated in person. This church prioritizes payment in the form of rare medicinal ingredients, soul engineer artifacts, rare metals, or long-term service to the church through labor or specialized skills. Pure gold soul coin payment is the least favored option and will incur an additional fifty percent "commotion surcharge."Queue-jumping, raucous clamor, and bribery of church personnel are strictly forbidden. Violators, upon discovery, will be immediately placed on a permanent blacklist and barred from all future audiences.
With the rules established, Neuvillette needed only to station himself by the gate—posture upright, gaze calm yet exerting an invisible pressure as it swept slowly across the crowd.
The nobles and wealthy merchants and their attendants, who moments ago had been clinging to their sense of status and making no small amount of noise, were instantly silenced, like roosters seized by the throat. Abashed, they quieted down, began earnestly studying the terms on the placard, and then obediently (if perhaps somewhat grudgingly) shuffled over to queue at the newly established registration desk.
The world fell considerably quieter. The few believers assigned to assist with registration watched this miraculous scene unfold and felt their respect for the white-haired envoy deepen by several more degrees.
And what of their Pope, Furina? She was, at this very moment, sprawled in her cozy little room with absolutely zero dignity, legs crossed, poking and tapping at the system's light screen that only she could see. A biscuit that had materialized from who-knew-where dangled from her lips.
"Profound Water Pill... mm, cleanses the marrow and reforges the meridians, great for building a solid foundation. Perfect for little Yuhao at his age... System, exchange for three!" The points on the screen dipped.
"Foundation-Building Spirit Liquid... ah, that good stuff from Battle Through the Heavens. I hear soaking in it while training is like riding a rocket? The soul master ranks on the Douluo Continent are pretty inflated—a Soul Grandmaster's energy levels over here might barely scrape the edge of a Dou Practitioner over there? Little Yuhao's only rank eight soul power right now, a ten-year-old kid with a still-weak foundation—this stuff's absolutely perfect for building his base... Exchange for two bottles!" Another chunk of points slid away.
She winced at her rapidly shrinking point balance, but then reminded herself: this was an early investment in the "Child of the World." The potential was limitless, and the future return might just be terrifyingly high. That made her feel a bit better. The exchanged pills were held in warm, lustrous jade vials, and the spirit liquid in translucent crystal bottles, faintly glowing with an unusual energy and exuding a refreshing medicinal fragrance. Anyone could see they were no common wares.
Tucking these treasures securely away, she crept like a cat who'd stolen a fish toward the rear courtyard kitchen. It was the busy rush before lunch, the kitchen steaming with heat and noisy with voices. Huo Yuhao stood before a large stove, his expression focused as he watched the soup roiling in the pot, a long ladle in hand stirring occasionally, fine beads of sweat glistening at his temples. Young as he was, he directed the assisting aunties with surprising poise, his tone unhurried, his instructions clear.
"Little Yuhao! Come here for a moment!" Furina leaned against the doorframe, beckoning him with a smiling face.
Huo Yuhao turned at once. Seeing it was Furina, he quickly handed the ladle to an auntie nearby, jogged over, and stood straight before her, his small hands unconsciously wiping on his apron, his tone respectful yet laced with a barely detectable trace of nervousness. "Lady Pope, you were looking for me?"
Furina found his cautious, earnest manner both amusing and a little heartbreaking. She pulled him aside to a quieter corner and, without ceremony, pressed the jade and crystal vials into his arms. "Here, take these. Special supplements, just for you."
Huo Yuhao looked down at the items—whose containers alone screamed their value—and sensed the faint energy fluctuations emanating from within. He panicked at once, his hands recoiling as if burned, his face flushing red. "Lady Pope, t-this... this is far too valuable... I... I can't accept this... I haven't done anything..."
"I said take them, so take them! No need for formalities with me!" Furina cut him off, deliberately forcing a stern tone. But the smile in her azure eyes was soft. "Look at you—right at the age when your body needs building and your foundation needs setting, and your soul power's only at rank eight. How is that acceptable? These things will be tremendously helpful for solidifying your base and speeding up your training."
She didn't bother thoroughly explaining the specific effects of each item. System products were guaranteed quality—that was enough. They were good for him, and that was what mattered.
Seeing the boy still clutching the items, utterly at a loss, his eyes full of unease and overwhelmed gratitude, Furina's heart melted. She reached out and, with complete naturalness, ruffled his soft blue hair (she still preferred the manga version). "Goodness, and stop calling me 'Lady Pope' all the time. It sounds so distant. From now on, when there are no outsiders around, just call me 'Sis.' I'd be happy if you called me Sister Furina too!"
She paused, and then, imitating the big-sister figures she remembered, patted her not-particularly-imposing chest and tried her best to look magnificently generous and protective. "From now on, in Thunderclap City, your sis has got your back! Let's see who dares bully you!"
But then her tone grew considerably more serious, her playful expression receding. "That said, little Yuhao—you have to put in the work yourself, too."
"A person's energy is limited. In the kitchen, you should start handing off more to Head Chef Liu, Auntie Zhang, and the others—pass on your ingredient-preparation tricks, your heat-control experience, your seasoning techniques. You don't need to do everything yourself anymore, running yourself ragged."
"You need to put more of your energy into your own soul power cultivation and physical training. Only by becoming stronger yourself will you have the ability to protect the people you want to protect, to truly seize hold of your own destiny. Do you understand?"
Half of this was earnest instruction, half was hope.
Huo Yuhao held the weighty pills and spirit liquid—representing boundless care and expectation—in his arms. He listened to Furina's words, free of any condescension, so sincere and full of deep concern, and felt the softest place in his heart fiercely struck. A warm current surged upward, making his nose sting, his eyes instantly hot.
He pressed his lips tightly together, fiercely suppressing the urge to cry. He raised his head and nodded hard, his voice carrying a slight huskiness yet steadier than ever before. "Mm! I understand! Thank you... thank you, Sister Furina! I'll train with everything I have. I won't let your expectations down!"
This time, his form of address shifted naturally. The stiffness in his tone had largely dissolved, replaced by a newfound closeness and resolve—the marks of being recognized, of being cared for.
"Now that's what I like to hear! That's the kid I've got my eye on!" Furina smiled with satisfaction and ruffled his hair vigorously one more time. "Now get back to work. And remember to start using those tonight. If anything feels off or you have questions, come ask me anytime."
She watched as Huo Yuhao carefully tucked the pills and spirit liquid securely against his body, then turned and ran back toward the stove. His back stood noticeably straighter than before, and in his eyes burned a bright, fiercely motivated light. Inside Furina, that "investor's pride" swelled to near bursting.
The emotional card plus resource investment—a two-pronged approach. This future super-star stock was now firmly, securely in her hands!
As for the persistent clamor and commotion outside the main gate—the endless horde still thirsting after the Golden Doughnut Vanilla Cake? Hah. With a stabilizing anchor like Neuvillette, that "gate god" holding the fort single-handedly, she had absolutely nothing to worry about.
And Her Excellency, Lady Furina? Her job was simply to keep creating miracles—and sowing the seeds of a bright, shining future.