Chapter 151
Jiang Jitang poured out all his secrets until he finally fell asleep. Jiang Sujin, on the other hand, barely slept the entire night.
Even though she had already looked through his shelf of gifts and heard him explain the origin of each little trinket, this new revelation was simply too unbelievable.
But after thinking it over all night, she eventually accepted it. Every generation has its own path—there was no need for her outdated life experience to guide the new generation.
“Thank you, Mr. Angel Investor Jiang. I’ll make good use of this money,” Jiang Sujin accepted the sum and made a solemn promise.
“I believe in you, Mrs. Jiang.”
Jiang Jitang replied with a serious expression, while the little person inside his heart was already dancing: I can earn money for Mom now! I’m an adult! From now on, I’ll be the second pillar of the family!
After Mrs. Jiang left to look for a suitable place to open a shop, Jiang Jitang also packed up and went out. He was heading to the hotel to find Parsons and check on the blue mushroom that hatched yesterday.
Not to mention Parsons—even he himself was seeing a magical beasts in fungal form for the first time. It even had a natural fluorescent glow; it looked quite beautiful.
Last night he researched it: the little blue mushroom’s full name was “Blue Glimmer.” It was currently in the juvenile stage. With careful nurturing, it could evolve to sub-adulthood, and from sub-adult to adult there were several evolutionary paths.
“I wonder what it likes.” Jiang Jitang searched up mushroom cultivation information, then detoured to a new flowers-and-birds market to buy wood shavings, humus soil, vermiculite, rotten wood, and so on.
He dumped everything into a large white tank. Feeling it wasn’t enough, he also prepared some pretty wooden decorations. Worried the mushroom might dislike the wooden material, he prepared a ceramic set as well.
“Time is too tight; I’ll prepare better things next time. These will have to do for now.”
So when Parsons opened the door, he saw no person—only piles of items.
He stepped aside as Jiang Jitang carried things in trip after trip, smiling and asking the blue mushroom on the coffee table, “What kind of house do you like? If you don’t like it, Daddy will change it, and change it to the best one.”
Parsons: … Wasn’t he the one who said he wouldn’t become an overly doting father?
They sorted through everything and layered the large white tank with moist substrate, gravel, humus soil, vermiculite, moss, colorful pebbles, tree stumps, wooden ornaments, small plants…
Above the tank, a mister sprayed gentle water mist continuously. Blue Glimmer seemed delighted, running around on its tiny legs and making soft “goo-goo” sounds.
“It likes it a lot.” Parsons, though he had not yet established a mind-link with Blue Glimmer, could vaguely understand its language and mood.
“Of course it does—this is a plan I mulled over all night!” Jiang Jitang lifted his chin proudly. This setup came from the countless moss terrariums he made and sold in the past.
“What should we name it?” Parsons asked.
In the magical beasts World, people rarely named their beasts; they identified them through the mind-link. But people from Blue Star, whether pet or partner, loved giving names. A name, to Blue Star humans, was like their version of a “mind-link.”
“Aren’t you naming it? You’re the owner.”
“I tend to choose overly complicated names. Like Artemis, the goddess of hunting and the moon… or Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty.” Parsons gave examples.
“That is a bit of a mouthful. Let me think.”
At first Jiang Jitang considered naming it “Little Blue Shroom,” but worried such a name might curse its destiny, he immediately changed it: “Let’s call it Paraiba—it’s as precious as a top-grade gemstone.”
Parsons searched the name and found a bright blue-green gemstone with a fluorescent glow, somewhat similar to Blue Glimmer’s cap—though Blue Glimmer’s was more lively and luminous.
“It suits it very well.”
The newly hatched Paraiba disliked direct sunlight but loved bright environments. They placed the terrarium near the floor-to-ceiling windows, letting it bask in filtered sunlight through a sheer curtain.
It was overjoyed, sometimes making “goo-goo” sounds, sometimes “boo-boo” sounds.
“You haven’t built a mind-link yet, so you can’t bring it into dungeons. But judging by your closeness, it won’t be long. Once you contract it, you’ll need to train it to have self-defense abilities.
“Paraiba is a psychic-type magical beasts. A juvenile has only two skills: Disassemble and Reassemble.
“The magical beasts Encyclopedia says the simpler a skill description is, the higher its potential. Disassemble and Reassemble are extremely powerful support skills. They can break carbon down to atoms and recombine it into diamonds—that’s within its skill scope. And that’s just a single-element combination. What if it can combine multiple elements?”
“But for now, it’s just a baby, so it won’t be that strong. Take it slow.”
Jiang Jitang copied down the information on Blue Glimmer. But since this magical beasts was an extremely rare species with high potential, the encyclopedia didn’t have much detail. The rest would depend on Parsons, the owner, to explore.
Come to think of it, this magical beasts egg was a precious gift from Professor Changyang, who was one of the compilers of the magical beasts Encyclopedia. If even he found it valuable, it must be extraordinary.
After discussing Paraiba, Jiang Jitang thought of the little black pony left at the kindergarten.
He had just visited it recently. It was being raised well and had become the kindergarten’s star animal. The caretaker said Parsons often brought fresh, delicious horse grass, brushed it, and even built a beautiful stable for it using expensive imported wood—wood so valuable even furniture makers rarely used it.
Leaving the pet with Parsons was the best decision. Jiang Jitang admitted he didn’t have that level of patience or devotion.
“Paraiba, want to go out for tasty food?” Jiang Jitang held his hand toward the terrarium.
Relying on his natural phantom-beast charm, he poked Paraiba’s cap without hesitation. The little cap spun, and its entire body twisted.
“Boo-boo.” Paraiba became dizzy and toppled over onto the moss with a plop.
“Hahahaha!” The delinquent father let out a devilish laugh.
Parsons looked at the fallen mushroom, then at the smugly laughing Jiang Jitang, and silently turned away. He really couldn’t help here.
After playing enough, Jiang Jitang took the little mushroom out to forage.
Red willow lamb skewers, brown sugar rice cakes, candied chestnuts, tiger-skin chicken feet, boneless chicken strips, candied hawthorns… He took a bite first—if he liked it, he gave Paraiba a bite; if not, he handed it to Parsons.
No one knew how the mushroom “tasted” things. Once it touched food, a small portion simply vanished. Then its cap glowed different colors—indicating “tasty” or “not tasty.”
They walked and ate while Parsons, trailing behind, paid for everything.
“Paraiba is so tiny. Can it really eat this stuff?” Parsons asked.
“Because the most important food for magical beasts is love—the world’s love, and the love of its bond partner. These foods are just supplements; they convert directly to energy. Even newborn magical beasts can eat them.”
As he spoke, Jiang Jitang shoved a ketchup-slathered grilled starch sausage toward Parsons: “This one is for our hardworking sugar daddy Papa Parse, right, Paraiba?”
“Goo-goo.” Paraiba ate without lifting its head.
Parsons held the sausage he bought with his own money, feeling strangely flattered.
That night, Parsons secretly changed his profile picture to Paraiba’s mushroom cap. But his photography skills were terrible—it was a top-down view, so others just saw a round, fluorescent blue thing dusted with white powder. It looked like a poisonous dessert.
Why is he using a deadly-looking blue pastry as his profile picture? Does it imply something? His friends were baffled.
Some overthinkers connected it to recent major events—the ambushed foreign aid, then the simultaneous mysterious deaths of more than a dozen federal official players, with only a few surviving via powerful healing items.
Rumor had it the foreign aid used a counterattack item, likely a curse-type.
But an item that could kill that many high-level and mid-level players at once must be insanely powerful. Everyone was guessing its description. Parsons changing his avatar—was he hinting something?
He entered to see people’s discussions, only to find people misunderstanding him completely: …What kind of eyes do they have?
The displeased father turned off the lights and went to sleep. The other father listened to the system’s settlement report.
All three tasks were complete: one wishing star, three gifts, and all three were five-star ratings. Jiang Jitang checked the epilogues—though most people he encountered didn’t become historically famous, they all lived good lives.
“Not bad, not bad.”
His first wisher, Tuo—who died but remained openhearted—gave him a bundle of primitive wild wheat, while Jiang Jitang gifted her son a bundle of modern cultivated wheat.
Unfortunately, her son didn’t have exceptional talent. Instead of becoming Shennong through agriculture, he became a skilled stone-tool craftsman inspired by Jiang Jitang’s crude stone tools. Still, being kind, he taught the tribe to plant wheat, inheriting his mother’s legacy.
With the chestnut forest, the tribe learned primitive agriculture and survived for decades, eventually merging into a larger tribe with farming knowledge.
The son gifted Jiang Jitang a carefully crafted obsidian dagger. Small, with a leather-wrapped handle, rough yet primal—each notch showing craftsmanship. It was practically a work of art.
Jiang Jitang admired it for a long time before placing it on his display shelf.
The second wisher, Lan, a warrior nearly wrongfully killed for his “looks,” didn’t return to his tribe after leaving the Lion Tribe. Instead he drifted downriver for over two months and settled near the coast.
He later rescued his future father-in-law from raiders and married into the tribe, living a turbulent but fulfilling life with his wife and children.
He gifted Jiang Jitang a small white clam-shell boat carved from giant clam. Without Jiang Jitang, he wouldn’t have had a future—this finely carved boat memorialized the “divine envoy” who carried him away.
“Items made from giant clam aren’t illegal to keep, right?”
“You can choose not to accept it,” the system said.
“I’ll take it.” The giant-clam carving was the size of a rugby ball, glowing with pearly luster, perfectly matching his antique shelf.
Next was the aftermath of Yue’s family, along with the wishing star and gift.
With Jiang Jitang’s support, Yue’s family survived the winter. But the eldest son developed an obsession with food storage. He collected wild fruits and observed which environments produced better harvests.
Not only did he study—he experimented, planting the plumpest seeds in the best soil.
His efforts produced remarkable results. But he didn’t stop. He began modifying soil conditions—adding moisture, transplanting soil, and so on.
Over time, he became a master farmer and was eventually invited by a major tribe, becoming the legendary “God of Agriculture.”
Because he successfully cultivated apple seeds and spread them widely, apples in that world became known as “Shennong Fruit.”
His gift to Jiang Jitang was an apple tree.
But this was a special apple tree—the most extraordinary one cultivated during his lifetime. Its apples had slight “marrow-cleansing” effects.
“Wait—you said marrow cleansing?” Years of reading cultivation novels made Jiang Jitang’s eyes light up.
“It’s not that exaggerated, but it does improve constitution, slow aging, and prevent illness with long-term consumption. Otherwise it wouldn’t become a ‘Shennong Fruit,’” the system explained.
“This is a mutation caused by a unique environment. You can hand it to scientists; maybe they can stabilize the traits.” (System gifts are copied; the original remains in its world.)
“Of course!” If they could cultivate it, it would become a long-term supply of special ingredients.
“Damn.” Jiang Jitang smacked his head. “If I’d known he had that talent, I would’ve given him a bag of seeds!”
He gave seeds to Tuo’s son, who became a craftsman. He gave nothing to Yue’s son, who became the God of Agriculture. Truly—you plant flowers with intention and get nothing; you plant willows without intention and they take root.
“All three task endings are great. I’m satisfied. Time to sleep.”
