Chapter 40: Hungry Hell
The head of the Watchtower Guild naturally had no idea what this “group-buying marketing model” was, nor did he ask for details. Whether or not they eventually agreed to cooperate, the less they knew about such dangerous schemes, the better.
As expected by Tang Mobai and the expert team behind him, a few days later Cang finally agreed to the deal. Following Tang Mobai’s request, the guild even secured a larger workspace and bought a pile of scientific instruments.
“I bought everything you asked for—but what exactly are you going to do with all this?” Cang was still in a guild meeting, so Zhan had taken over the task of liaising with Tang Mobai. She watched curiously as he adjusted the equipment one by one.
“Of course, to produce the healing potion and the Fasting Pill.”
“Huh?” Zhan stared at him in confusion.
This didn’t look anything like an alchemy workshop!
Even though the alchemical knowledge controlled by the Jade Society was mostly secret, Zhan could more or less imagine what it should look like—and it definitely wasn’t this kind of scientific setup. They weren’t even the same system!
But seeing that Tang Mobai didn’t intend to explain and went straight into practice, she could only swallow her questions and keep watching.
Once he had everything calibrated, Tang Mobai began processing the materials the Watchtower Guild had supplied using the instruments—and what happened next left Zhan completely dumbfounded.
After assembling the machines, he pressed a button. The entire line started running automatically—mixing, stirring, dispensing. Each batch rolled off the line in perfect order and was delivered to Tang Mobai, who only needed to inject spiritual energy at the end. One potion every minute.
Zhan stared in disbelief. “I thought he was joking when he said 700 bottles a week. Everyone agreed we’d just turn a blind eye if it ended up being five or six hundred.”
Even without knowing the exact productivity of alchemists, they could roughly estimate from the Jade Society’s constant shortage of “Little Red Potions.” An ordinary alchemist could probably produce 3,000 a month at most—and that was already the limit. The more advanced the alchemist, the lower the output. That was just how things worked.
But Tang Mobai’s speed… he could finish a week’s production in a single day!
That was absurd! The Jade Society had dozens of low-level alchemists and barely made 700 a week. And here he was, one man outproducing them all?!
Could he be faking it?
Zhan, suspicious, quietly picked up a freshly made potion to check it—and found the effect was nearly identical to the original.
Wait a minute…
Her pupils trembled. “Don’t tell me this is what real alchemy is supposed to look like?!”
Yan Wuzhen and Seth were also seeing Tang Mobai refine potions in person for the first time and were just as shocked—but in front of outsiders, they kept their cool, pretending it was normal.
Seeing their calm expressions only deepened Zhan’s conviction that Tang Mobai came from a powerful background.
Sure, the Lost Paradise could connect to various worlds, and some of them had advanced technology, but usually, those different systems couldn’t coexist. Research and development barely existed here—why bother inventing things when you could just steal them in a dungeon? Even the Jade Society, with its long alchemical tradition, mostly just copied knowledge from its home world.
So when Tang Mobai effortlessly fused a high-tech system with alchemy, Zhan was completely blown away. She became even more certain: the power backing him must have prepared all this long ago, maybe even before he entered the Revival Match, intending to interfere in Hungry Hell’s balance of power from the start. Otherwise, there was no way they’d have enough time to plan it all.
Her confidence in him grew. She became more eager to help, even serving tea and water. When Tang Mobai’s spiritual energy was nearly depleted, she rushed up to hand him a recovery tonic.
“Boss, please—take this!”
Tang Mobai was startled by her sudden enthusiasm. “Oh… thanks, but it’s fine, I can handle it myself.”
Seth, a beat too slow, regretfully put away the blue potion he’d been about to offer.
“No problem, boss! It’s the least I can do!” Zhan grinned. Since Tang Mobai didn’t even stop her from watching his alchemy process, the least she could do was show some courtesy.
Tang Mobai wasn’t quite used to such enthusiasm, but seeing her genuine attitude, he said nothing and returned to his work—this time to produce the Fasting Pills.
By the way, the core material for the Fasting Pills—the trace substance Tang Mobai had extracted from the Hunger Game—was itself a product of alchemy. A real-world research team was now working overtime to reverse-engineer the formula, which would take some time. Before negotiating with the Watchtower Guild, Tang Mobai had quietly contacted Manager Rabbit to purchase the same kind of food used in the Hunger Game.
He’d expected Manager Rabbit to refuse or demand a ridiculous price—after all, they’d won 200,000 points from him—but to his surprise, the price was just the standard rate for regular food in Hungry Hell.
Maybe Manager Rabbit didn’t realize what the food could be used for? Tang Mobai didn’t care—he took advantage of it and bought 50,000 points’ worth in one go, spending a quarter of his savings.
That batch of special food yielded enough of the trace substance to make 200,000 Fasting Pills, so for now, supply wasn’t a concern. Tang Mobai went all out and crafted 1,000 pills in a single session.
Zhan gaped. “W-wait, you’re producing that many right away? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Her tone was cautious, but Tang Mobai sounded utterly confident. “It’s fine. These will sell themselves—and soon the distribution network will spread fast.”
He looked so certain about his business strategy that even Zhan began to feel curious. Could their marketing plan really go that smoothly?
While Tang Mobai’s team was busy producing Fasting Pills, Cang’s side also moved quickly. Once the first batch of potions arrived, they poured in massive funds and launched an all-out advertising campaign.
Many demons, curious, decided to try it—and were amazed. The new healing potion really was better than the Little Red Potion. Demand exploded overnight, and soon they couldn’t keep up with orders.
At first, it didn’t draw the Jade Society’s attention. After all, there were plenty of small guilds that occasionally got lucky and discovered good items in dungeon worlds. What they didn’t know was that the Watchtower Guild was now swimming in profit—and that shadowy channels had already begun to stir beneath the surface.
One day, Hubert was sent by his squad to buy supplies. Normally, he’d head straight for the Jade Society, but this time, with all the buzz and ads everywhere, he decided to check out the Watchtower Guild’s new healing potion himself.
Unfortunately, he’d left a little late. By the time he reached the shop, a long line had already formed, and just as he arrived, a guild member in uniform came out shouting, “We’re sold out for today! If you want to buy, come earlier tomorrow!”
The crowd erupted in complaints.
“Seriously? I’ve been waiting here since 6 a.m.! This is how you treat loyal customers?!”
“Sorry, sorry! We just can’t keep up with demand…”
“Bullshit! Didn’t you say 700 bottles a day? There aren’t even 700 people here!”
“Well, some pre-ordered, and others bought in bulk to stock up.”
“Then I’ll pre-order too!”
“Sorry—only VIPs can place advance orders.”
Hubert clicked his tongue. Wow. He’d heard the rumors, but it really was that hot.
Originally, he’d only come to check it out casually, but now his curiosity was piqued. “Hey, buddy,” he asked the man in front of him, “is this stuff really that good?”
The other demon nodded seriously. “About 15% better than the Little Red Potion. Heals faster, too. Same price, but even has a minor limb-regrowth effect.”
“Whoa, that’s a steal,” Hubert muttered. He hadn’t realized it was that good—and now he regretted coming late.
Wait—someone said they’d queued since six and still didn’t get any? That was insane.
As soon as the crowd learned there was no stock left, they dispersed in frustration. A few people near the front kept arguing with the staff, but Hubert, tasked with buying recovery supplies, couldn’t go back empty-handed.
Still, now that there was a better product available, going back to buy the old potion felt… like a rip-off.
He hesitated, pacing indecisively—when suddenly, a voice came from a nearby alley.
“Hey, buddy. Looking for healing potions?”
Hubert turned warily to see a figure in a black cloak peeking out from the shadows. “You want healing potions?”
“Black market, huh?” Hubert didn’t approach; he even stepped back. “How much are you marking up?”
There were always scalpers in the Lost Paradise—shadowy traders who operated under the legitimate commerce guilds. They bought and sold goods that couldn’t be explained through official channels.
“No markup! Really!”
Hubert immediately turned away. He’d sooner believe the Merchant Alliance would collapse tomorrow than trust a black marketeer with a conscience.
“Wait, don’t go! It’s good stuff—I’m just bundling it with something else!”
Now that sounded more familiar.
Hubert sighed. “Let me see first.”
“Sure thing.” The cloaked man, surprisingly polite, led him deeper into the alley—always keeping a safe distance.
Once they were out of sight, the man took out a small pouch and tossed it over without getting close.
Hubert caught it, pulling out a vial of healing potion and a small unknown pill. The potion checked out as genuine. He then examined the pill.
“How much for both?”
“Thirteen.”
“You’re charging five extra points?!” Hubert winced. “That’s practically a meal!”
Food in Hungry Hell was expensive. Unless you belonged to a well-off team or guild, few could afford to eat regularly. Most demons survived on two or three meals a week—sometimes just one a day if they could stand the hunger. It wasn’t good for the mind, but it was cheaper.
“Then you might as well use the money you’d spend on a meal to buy this instead,” the man in the black cloak said meaningfully. “Trust me—take this pill, and you won’t need to eat for an entire day. It’s absolutely worth it. To be honest, this is a first-time-only offer. If you want this price again the second or third time, you’ll have to bring more people with you.”
Hubert’s face was full of disdain. He’d long become immune to these kinds of sales pitches. It wasn’t the first time some guild had tried to take advantage of Hungry Hell’s hunger mechanics to sell gimmicky products like this—but those things always turned out to be useless scams that couldn’t actually replace food. He figured this one was the same and had no intention of taking the pill, though he did think about bargaining a little.
But just then, a voice shouted behind him, excited and breathless, “Finally found you!”
Hubert turned around and saw several people rushing in from the mouth of the alley. They surrounded the cloaked man with visible excitement.
“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
The black-cloaked man gave a knowing smile. “Ours is a risky business. How could I possibly have a fixed location? You know how dangerous this stuff is.”
“Right, right, it’s dangerous, just like you said,” one of the newcomers replied eagerly. “I brought people with me to buy more. This time I’ll take ten—no, a hundred pills!”
The black-cloaked man glanced over the small group and chuckled. “Limited supply. Ten per person max. You brought three people, so thirty pills total.”
“What?! … Fine, thirty then. Are you still going to be here later? Wait for me—I’ll go bring more people!”
“I’ll be leaving soon,” the black-cloaked man said. “But you can try your luck near the flea market. And remember, we’re trading healing potions here.”
“I get it, I get it—healing potions, sure.”
Hubert looked at the scene with disbelief. Seriously? Are these guys shills?
All this fuss… over something that costs only thirteen points?
He couldn’t hold back anymore and grabbed one of the men who was about to leave. “Hey, brother, why are you buying so many of those pills?”
“What do you mean, why? Don’t you want to go a whole day without eating or drinking?” The man shot back—but then his eyes caught the pouch in Hubert’s hand, and a greedy light flashed in them. “Wait, is this your first time buying? How about this—I’ll pay extra. He sold it to you for five extra points, right? I’ll give you seven. Deal?”
“Uh?” Hubert froze, stunned that the guy was seriously trying to buy from him like he’d struck gold. Instinctively, he pulled his hand back. “I’m not selling!”
The moment he said it, he regretted it. That was an easy two-point profit for doing nothing! What if they’re all just plants though?
But then again, a small voice whispered in his mind—what if they’re not?
What if someone really did risk everything to develop something like this just to make a quick fortune?
While Hubert was still hesitating, the man who’d tried to buy from him realized it was hopeless, grabbed his companions, and hurried off. The others who had successfully bought some also split up, likely to recruit more people to “form teams.”
Oh, right—the black-cloaked man had said this was a “group-buying system.” The more people you brought in, the greater the group leader’s discount and purchase quota. Those who recruited the most even earned point rewards—cashable ones. The man had called it “cutting a slice.”
Hubert didn’t understand what that meant, but seeing the cloaked man about to leave, he blurted out without thinking, “I—I’ll take ten pills!”
Scenes like this began playing out all across Hungry Hell. Soon, the place was full of whispers—code phrases like “Hey brother, want to cut a slice?” The ones being asked were always confused, while the ones asking would mysteriously pull out a small pill, sling an arm around the other’s shoulder, and lead them into a side alley. Then there’d be two people spreading the same line.
The Watchtower Guild’s black-market channels started selling healing potions everywhere—always bundled with a mysterious pill. And once the demons who bought the pill experienced its effect, they all had the same thought: I need to stock up before the Merchant Alliance finds out.
No one expected the product to last long. Everyone’s mindset was the same—recruit as many people as possible, form as many buying groups as they could, and hoard.
Exactly as Tang Mobai and his team had planned.
It had to be said—the viral-style social marketing strategy proposed by Tang Mobai and his expert team hit the mark perfectly. From the moment the Fasting Pill appeared in Hungry Hell, it was destined to sell itself. Once someone tried it, demand would spread like wildfire. The only obstacle was the Merchant Alliance’s ban, which forced buyers to purchase secretly, hoard in private, and keep quiet to avoid punishment later.
But Tang Mobai’s limited-quantity and group-buying systems changed everything. Buyers had to recruit others, which meant more and more people learned about it. Yet, everyone tacitly agreed to hide it under the cover of “healing potions.” No one said it out loud, but everyone understood.
The more popular the healing potion became, the better it concealed what lay beneath it—and the other guilds couldn’t even figure out what was really happening. At most, they just sighed, “Man, that Watchtower Guild’s healing potion is really making waves. The Jade Society must be pulling their hair out.”
Some guilds that ran food stalls did start to sense something off, but they didn’t take it seriously. They figured those freelancers were just skipping meals temporarily to buy some special gear or clear a dungeon faster. No one thought they’d actually stop eating altogether.
They didn’t realize that a spark had already ignited across Hungry Hell.
When sales of the Jade Society’s Little Red Potion dropped to 60% of normal, they could no longer sit still. That night, they held an emergency meeting to discuss how to deal with the sudden rise of the Watchtower Guild.
“Didn’t that alchemist from the Watchtower Guild say they were no threat? Then what’s this? They’ve completely caught up to us!”
“How were we supposed to know she had that kind of ability? And maybe it’s not even her work. What if they just found a lucky haul in some dungeon world? If that’s the case, it’s only a matter of time before they run out of stock. That’s what always happens.”
To the Jade Society, as long as a product wasn’t something produced within the Lost Paradise itself, it posed no long-term threat. Stockpiles always ran dry eventually. That’s why they hadn’t reacted earlier when the healing potion craze began—they’d seen plenty of such “overnight miracles” before.
But now, with three straight days of declining sales, they couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“I don’t think it’s just a random drop,” one senior member said grimly. “I’ve been watching the live feeds of the dungeon worlds that could produce such potions—no Watchtower Guild members were there. And according to our alchemists, the new healing potion… shows faint traces of alchemical energy.”
“What?”
“Are you sure?”
The words sent a shockwave through the room. Alchemy had always been the Jade Society’s domain, and there had never been a leak.
—Well, except one.
“That’s the issue. Our alchemists aren’t certain. The potion reacts like an alchemical product, but it also contains unfamiliar elements. It could be a mix… or maybe we’re wrong.”
“So what is it, then? A real alchemy product or something else?”
“Either way, we can’t ignore it. Don’t forget about Tang Mobai.”
“He’s joined the Watchtower Guild?”
“Not confirmed—but highly likely. No wonder they’re so bold.”
“We can’t let this slide. Either we crush them with a price war or eliminate their key people. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll pull that healing potion off the shelves.”
The meeting room filled with heated discussion—everyone shouting over each other about how to suppress the Watchtower Guild, how to win back the Little Red Potion market, and how to force them to hand over the potion’s formula—or Tang Mobai himself.
Halfway through the chaos, the doors burst open. A brash-looking man strode in.
“Who let you in?!” someone barked. “Whose subordinate are you, barging in like that?”
“Idiots who can’t read the situation,” the newcomer sneered, tossing a small pouch onto the table. The contents spilled out—a vial of the new healing potion and a small, unknown pill.
“Healing potion? Why’d you bring that here?” someone asked, recognizing the man and growing wary.
He wasn’t a vice-chair, but a direct subordinate of one—essentially the vice-chair’s right-hand man, acting as his voice when he wasn’t around.
“This so-called healing potion isn’t the point,” the man said impatiently. “The pill is.”
“Eat one, and you won’t feel hungry for an entire day.”
The room fell silent.
Every demon there knew exactly what that meant—and precisely because they knew, they were stunned.
“My informant said these pills are sold together with the healing potions. People say they’re buying potions, but what they really want is this.”
“The Watchtower Guild’s gone mad?” someone asked after a long pause.
“Or maybe… they don’t even realize what they’ve stumbled into.”
Even those who’d been the loudest a moment ago fell silent, their faces pale.
Were the Watchtower Guild leaders insane? Were they trying to drag their whole guild into destruction?
“…Convene the Merchant Alliance Council,” someone finally said. “This affects everyone’s interests. No matter what, we have to find the source—and stop the sales immediately.”
“And notify the Watchtower Guild,” another added grimly. “Make sure they attend.”
