Chapter 41
Having promised Ludwig he’d provide food, Xie Xingchen closed the call and immediately opened the game shop.
Staring at the purchasable items in the shop, he hesitated for a long time. In the end, he painfully closed it—deciding to upgrade the food machines first.
The higher the level, the more revenue is required to upgrade. Level 2 needed 20 million, level 3 needed 30 million, level 4 needed 40 million… and so on. To reach level 10, it would take 100 million star-coins.
To upgrade from level 1 to the max level 10 would cost a total of 540 million star-coins. From level 2 to level 10 would cost 520 million.
Right now, Xie Xingchen has one level-2 scallion pancake machine, one level-1 scallion oil noodles machine, and one level-1 candied chestnut machine.
If he wanted all three machines to reach level 10 at the same time, he’d need to pay:
5.4 + 5.4 + 5.2 = 1.6 billion star-coins.
He currently had over 1.9 billion star-coins in his account, so of course he could afford the 1.6 billion needed to max all three machines—but still… the upgrade fee was suffocating.
And suffocating or not, money still had to be spent.
With trembling hands, he clicked [Confirm]. In an instant, most of the money in his account vanished!
The game shop’s deduction speed was basically the same as flash-sale speed—calling it “gone in a second” was honestly understating it.
And to be completely honest, even now, Xie Xingchen still had no idea where the game system sent all that money.
Anyway, no one had ever come looking for him, and the system claimed everything was secure.
Looking at his account after it lost over half its balance, Xie Xingchen wore a pained expression. He felt like a sieve full of holes—money arrived and immediately leaked away.
He patted his cheeks, then shut the account page out of sight, out of mind.
At that moment, the system notification sounded:
[Ding-dong. Congratulations, player! You have successfully upgraded 3 food machines to Level 10. Reward: Shop food-machine refresh probability +3%]
Xie Xingchen jolted, eyes widening.
Maxing three food machines… and the system rewarded him with a 3% increase in the refresh probability for food machines?
Following that logic, could he reasonably guess that—if he owned 100 max-level food machines—food machines would stop “refreshing” entirely and become directly purchasable?
Xie Xingchen: gradually getting excited.jpg
This info was worth a fortune!
His 1.6 billion was totally well spent!
Thinking of his newly upgraded machines, he first went to the Earth Shop homepage and posted a product restock notice, pushing the original midnight restock time to 10 a.m. the next day.
After updating the notice, he exited StarNet Mall, then opened the game panel to check the upgrade details.
[Name: Scallion Pancake Maker
Level: 10
Output: Scallion Pancakes (Excellent)
Effect: Remove dark matter (Medium)
Production rate: 90,000 portions / 24 hours]
[Name: Scallion Oil Noodles Maker
Level: 10
Output: Scallion Oil Noodles (Excellent)
Effect: Remove dark matter (Medium)
Production rate: 90,000 portions / 24 hours]
[Name: Candied Chestnut Maker
Level: 10
Output: Candied Chestnuts (Excellent)
Effect: Enhance physique (Medium)
Production rate: 90,000 portions / 24 hours]
The quality and effects of the food produced had also upgraded too!
Xie Xingchen: happy bunny spinning.jpg
According to the system’s description, a level-9 machine could already produce 9,000 per day. Max level multiplied it by 10—so 90,000.
He had three level-10 machines. Together, that meant 270,000 portions of food per day!
Who needed a tasting-slot machine anymore?!
At 270,000 a day, even selling a bit slower would still leave surplus production.
Underestimating the appetites of those interstellar wolves, Xie Xingchen felt like he could finally lie flat for real this time.
He was going to make a killing!
Just food alone: 270,000 portions a day at 100 star-coins each meant 27 million daily. Add the flower shop’s daily sale of 90,000 stems—daily revenue of 125,910,000. And the flower tea shop: 90,000 jars daily at 10,000 each—900,000,000 star-coins per day.
All three stores combined, daily revenue hit 1,052,910,000 star-coins.
Over one billion in daily turnover!
What more could he possibly want?!
And suddenly, Xie Xingchen understood why people hated him.
No wonder they hated him.
He sold greenery so cheaply, yet once the volume rose, he could still earn this much in a day.
Then what about those people who casually sold greenery for thousands of star-coins per piece?
Wouldn’t they be making absurd amounts?
Cutting off someone’s money is like killing their parents—no wonder lately so many people had banded together trying to deal with him.
Not just them.
Looking at that revenue, even Xie Xingchen himself couldn’t resist wanting to make a move!
He suddenly felt ridiculously rich.
Starting tomorrow, over ten billion in turnover every day, while the cost was basically pocket change compared to the revenue.
And because he bought a wilderness planet—a remote wilderness planet, at that—he also had three years of tax incentives!
The discount was huge; it was basically tax-free.
If he really wanted to squeeze the Star Alliance, he could even apply to join the Plant Association and request tax subsidies.
If that happened, not only would he not have to pay taxes—he might even earn money from the Star Alliance!
But thinking about what that bunch in the Plant Association was like, Xie Xingchen felt paying a little tax was fine. Better than dealing with them. He had zero goodwill toward the Plant Association.
He opened the game shop again, struggled for a while, then decided not to buy anything.
He needed to hold onto the remaining 300 million tightly, in case the midnight refresh brought something good and he couldn’t afford it.
What he could buy tomorrow, he could also buy tomorrow—he didn’t care about waiting a day or two. But the refresh page was different: it was limited-time. If the right item appeared and he had no money, that would be truly tragic. After all, the system recognized revenue—borrowing money wouldn’t help.
Xie Xingchen was lucky!
Because that very night at midnight, he ran into a flash sale:
300 million revenue for one bottle of Physique Enhancement Serum!
Flash-sale time: 10 minutes!
If he’d bought robots earlier, he’d be crying right now.
But because he hadn’t, he smiled so hard his eyes curved like crescents.
[Physique Enhancement Serum (Player-only): Increases physique and has a certain chance to stabilize mental power.]
Just from the description, it was obviously good. Xie Xingchen bought it and used it immediately.
He didn’t know if it was just his imagination, but after drinking it, he felt light all over—like he’d put down a heavy burden.
But after waiting for a long time, he didn’t see any grime appear on his skin.
He waited even longer, then disappointedly realized that the system’s physique serum didn’t come with the “wash-your-marrow-and-purge-impurities” effect from cultivation novels.
Xie Xingchen: Fine then. Wash up and sleep.
After confirming there really was no surface gunk, he took a bath and gave up, going to bed.
Less than a minute after lying down, his consciousness blurred.
When he woke again, the sun was already high.
Xie Xingchen suddenly sat up, face full of panic.
Crap—don’t tell me it’s past 10 a.m. already.
He opened his light-brain. Seeing it was only a little past 9, he let out a sigh of relief… but soon his expression turned heavy again.
Because nine-something and ten… felt like there wasn’t much difference?
Last night, he’d been so excited he forgot to start the food machines. In just these dozens of minutes, he couldn’t get the restock ready.
Rubbing his head in frustration, he absentmindedly picked at the blanket with his fingers, then awkwardly opened StarBlog.
[Xie Xingchen V: Ahem, let me say something… so, uh… today’s 10 a.m. restock might not make it in time, so Earth Shop’s restock time is delayed to 9 p.m. tonight. Also, to compensate everyone, tonight’s food stock will increase a lot. Please look forward to it!]
After posting, Xie Xingchen immediately exited StarBlog.
His face was embarrassingly stiff—afraid netizens would catch him.
And honestly, he was wise, because the moment that post went up, waves of fans were indeed “summoned.”
Earth Shop delaying the restock?
No problem—so long as there was more food!
If food that was only tasted through holographic livestreams (not even proper tasting-slot experiences) could make them this intoxicated, what would real tasting-slot quality be like?
They’d probably ascend to heaven after eating it!
Fans were already fantasizing about how blissful it would be when they got their hands on the food.
But then, a few not-so-normal netizens appeared in the comments.
[Loudmouth McBlabber: So nobody cares about the 9,999-star-coin sunflower? Didn’t Earth Shop always sell cheap stuff? Why is it so expensive now? As soon as you get popular, you raise prices—isn’t that kinda ugly?]
That blatant baiting and smear made the food-discussing fans roll their eyes.
They wanted to ignore it, but the comment got pushed up again.
And once it got exposure, it was bad—like someone kicked a hornet’s nest. Similar comments started appearing one after another, and the trend grew.
Earth Shop fans were so mad they laughed.
These people perfectly embodied the saying: “A favor of a cup of rice becomes resentment over a bucket.”
Selling cheap greenery was kindness, but in their mouths it became “cheap goods,” became “ugly profiteering.”
Wasn’t the real ugly “profiteering” done by those selling sky-high-priced greenery?
Without hesitation, fans rolled up their sleeves and charged in.
[DrizzleDrip: A brain is a nice thing to have. Shame you don’t. @Xie Xingchen V Boss Xie, I strongly suggest you add a blacklist. If they think ‘cheap goods’ are bad, then fine—don’t buy.]
[Foodie Woodpecker: 100 star-coins for greenery and you still want what? ‘Cheap goods,’ my ass. I bought greenery for thousands that’s nowhere near as good as their 100-star-coin stuff… As for a sunflower at 9,999? So what! I have money, I like it, I think it’s good, and it’s worth it!]
[OnlyBlue: This is wild. You don’t go nitpicking shops that sell 2% greenery for thousands, but you come here to talk nonsense? You think Boss Xie is nice and easy to bully?]
Xie Xingchen really did seem too friendly—friendly enough that some people thought him earning even a little was a sin.
Thankfully, most fans were clear-headed.
Some clever fans even saw the real reason behind recent greenery price drops—Earth Shop had triggered everyone.
Even the newly opened Fu Corporation shop had unusually low prices lately, didn’t it? And wasn’t that because Earth Shop’s cheap greenery had gone insanely popular?
There’s no such thing as “eat from the bowl, then curse the bowl.”
There were plenty of clear-headed netizens, plenty of netizens who could curse, and of course plenty who were both.
The sour trolls had barely started stirring the pot when they were already roasted into oblivion.
Furious, they gathered offline to mount a counterattack.
People who love cheap deals are always the same: no matter how good your product is, no matter how low your price is, they always think you should do it.
And tragically, there is never a shortage of such people.
Because Earth Shop’s greenery had been so cheap before.
If it was always that price, why did it suddenly rise?
Wasn’t that treating netizens like idiots?
With bad intentions, greed for bargains, and deliberate guiding by certain people, just as #EarthShopFood hadn’t even cooled down on the trending list, #EarthShopBlackHearted climbed right up.
Seeing that trending topic, Hou Wenbo and his group felt refreshed.
Ever since the First Academy graduation ceremony, nothing had gone smoothly for them.
Whether it was trying to block Xie Xingchen from entering the Plant Association or using that to pressure Ni Kunqi, they failed at everything.
They had assumed that since Ni Kunqi liked Xie Xingchen so much as a student, blocking Xie Xingchen would force Ni Kunqi to bow.
But they never expected Xie Xingchen, that little bastard, would simply skip the Plant Association entirely.
A remote wilderness-planet owner choosing the planting route and not applying to join the Plant Association in the first year?
Was that something a normal planet lord would do?
And yet Xie Xingchen did it.
Not only did he not join, he even warned Ni Kunqi to be careful around them, leading to Ni Kunqi refusing to sell them the new nutrient solution. Even Professor Allison started looking at them like they were dirt.
The grudge had long been set. The graduation ceremony just became the catalyst that deepened the conflict.
From then on, the Hou family and the Hua family watched Earth Shop like hawks, always wanting to stomp it down.
But Earth Shop’s operations were airtight, leaving them no loopholes.
Who knew that today, Xie Xingchen would deliver them a handle on a silver platter?
If they didn’t seize it now, they’d be failing themselves.
They spent huge amounts hiring water armies to steer the narrative, spreading half-true, half-false rumors online—and in the end, they actually managed to stir up some waves.
Watching the “crusade” trend grow hotter and hotter, the group sipped red wine in satisfaction.
They shook their heads and put on a fake, performative tone:
“Honestly, young people… they never consider the consequences.”
“Exactly. I said from the start that this would cause problems. Look—now there are problems.”
“That’s why when you enter the industry, don’t rush. You should learn from seniors. If you just bury your head and charge forward, you’ll only end up with a pile of complaints.”
Those hypocritical, pretentious words couldn’t hide the lofty arrogance in their posture.
Their tone wasn’t just gloating—it was filled with contempt.
Even if the Xie family had once been a prestigious planting-star lineage, it had already fallen. This Xie heir wasn’t worth much in their eyes.
The only reason he annoyed them this much was because he disrupted industry pricing—forcing them to lower their prices, at least somewhat.
For over a hundred years, greenery had been priced one way. And then you come along and change it?
So you’re the only saint in the entire Star Alliance?
Snickering, mocking, jeering…
Everyone believed Xie Xingchen would suffer a huge loss this time—one that might even affect his planet’s future.
However—
Just as they were feeling smug and triumphant, StarNet suddenly got dominated by several trending topics at once.
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