Over the next few days, aside from his classes and meal breaks, Feng Qi spent a considerable amount of time with Le Ping'an. He sought guidance on the methods and processes for brewing Clear Mind Brew.
Constantly troubling Le Ping'an made Feng Qi feel guilty. Since brewing Clear Mind Brew wasn't overly complicated, he decided to invest over 400,000 yuan to purchase a set of auxiliary alchemical equipment and personally take over the brewing process.
After a few days of working together, Le Ping'an no longer seemed as reserved as before. At Feng Qi's insistence, Le Ping'an started calling him "Qi-ge" instead of "Teacher Feng." After all, with their similar ages, addressing him as a teacher felt overly formal.
Meanwhile, the rankings for the Tiger Soul Concept Competition were officially released. Unsurprisingly, the "Planting Deities in the Body" concept claimed the top spot. However, the release of the 5 million yuan prize money still required some bureaucratic processes, so Feng Qi hadn't received the funds yet.
As for the 3 million yuan reward promised by Bai Fusheng, it had already been allocated to cover the costs of recent repairs to the academy's facilities. After purchasing materials for brewing Clear Mind Brew, Feng Qi had just over 600,000 yuan left.
When the 5 million yuan prize from the Tiger Soul competition eventually arrived, his net worth would rise to 5.6 million. While this seemed like a considerable sum, Feng Qi knew he had to be frugal. Beyond the expenses required for his Dream Realm expeditions, he would need significant funding to support Fang Zhiyou's relocation to Star City Academy and the subsequent development of virtual technology.
Saving wherever possible, brewing his own Clear Mind Brew was one of Feng Qi's strategies for cutting costs.
He had even considered searching the future database for methods to quickly amass wealth. However, in the post-catastrophe world, most ways of earning substantial amounts of money required immense effort and time. Ventures usually began with startups, requiring years of gradual growth and development.
In this transformed world, pop stars and actors no longer held the financial sway they once did before the calamity. Their income was relatively modest. The most lucrative professions now belonged to top-tier cultivators, researchers in cultivation science, and technological innovators—roles that drove human progress.
The idea of plagiarizing songs from the future to sell for tens or hundreds of thousands in the present was pure fantasy. This was no utopia where consumerism thrived. Even raising pigs would be more profitable than pursuing a career as an entertainer—no joke.
The most lucrative industries were livestock farming, pharmaceutical development, and scientific equipment production. If his sole aim was wealth, Feng Qi could undoubtedly find numerous avenues. By retracing the entrepreneurial paths taken by future individuals, he could easily establish a business empire. However, such endeavors required enormous time and energy investments, often measured in years.
That wasn't what Feng Qi wanted. Instead, he had a different plan: the creation of The Savior. This game wouldn't just help him accumulate wealth; it would also contribute significantly to humanity's advancement in a relatively short time.
The core challenge of creating The Savior was the coding, which Feng Qi could handle. The remaining work involved waiting for Fang Zhiyou to perfect the virtual engine and for the art and graphics teams to complete their designs.
Unlike conventional games in the post-catastrophe world, which offered little potential for quick profit, The Savior was a unique case.
Ordinary games in this era were bound by strict anti-addiction systems. Minors were limited to 30 minutes of online gameplay per day, after which they were forcibly logged out. This wasn't a world where mindless entertainment was allowed to flourish. Societal progress couldn't afford the distraction of students wasting their energy on meaningless games.
The prevailing sentiment was clear: a strong youth made for a strong humanity. To achieve ultimate victory, everyone needed to contribute.
Students who played games faced criticism from both parents and teachers, creating a significant barrier to gaming. However, The Savior was different. When it launched, its anti-addiction measures were removed entirely. People of all ages were allowed unrestricted access.
Parents and teachers didn't oppose The Savior. On the contrary, they encouraged children and students to play. This was because the game deepened users' understanding of techniques and improved their combat awareness.
Additionally, The Savior had no spending caps, as a reward from humanity's leadership to the team that spent over a decade developing it. This game was akin to a divine-level cultivation manual in its significance.
It resolved the safety risks associated with combat training while providing pre-academy students a way to familiarize themselves with cultivation systems and techniques. Its impact was profound and far-reaching.
From the moment Feng Qi discovered The Savior in the future database, he made up his mind: he had to create this game. It wasn't just about making money; it was about driving humanity's progress.
At that moment, within the dormitory, the auxiliary equipment hummed steadily. Standing before it, Le Ping'an focused intently on the monitor, meticulously adjusting the parameters to ensure the liquid spiritual plant essences blended smoothly.
Beside him, Feng Qi watched intently, equally engrossed in the process.
Although the equipment assisted in the process, the core of alchemy still lay in the alchemist. Without precise adjustments to the ratios of medicinal liquids and careful temperature control, accidents could happen at any moment.
During the fusion of medicinal liquids, if repulsion reactions occurred between different ingredients, explosions could easily follow. This was due to the pure energy of varying attributes contained within spiritual plants. While the energy could combine to create miraculous effects, incompatibility often led to violent bursts.
Moreover, miscalculations in dosage during the fusion process could turn the mixture into poison. Some of these poisons were indistinguishable from a successful product in appearance, but consuming them would lead to disastrous consequences.
Understanding the gravity of these challenges, Feng Qi approached his studies with utmost seriousness, pausing frequently to ask questions when something was unclear. Mastering alchemical techniques required rigorous attention to detail, leaving no room for negligence.
Finally, after thirty minutes of meticulous observation and adjustments, a light-blue liquid began dripping from the soft tube on the right side of the equipment. The room was soon filled with a delicate fragrance that sharpened the mind and invigorated the senses. Taking a deep breath of the aroma, Feng Qi felt his thoughts become clearer and more active.
Thanks to the inclusion of "Drunken Fragrance Fruit" among the ingredients, the brew carried a faint alcoholic aroma, though the nose detected no trace of alcohol itself. The finished product radiated an appealing warmth that hinted at its potency.
Before long, a full bottle of Clear Mind Brew was complete. Feng Qi picked up a glass vial and tilted it, observing the slow, crystalline flow of the blue liquid within.
"Qi-ge, all done!" Le Ping'an exclaimed, his tone shy yet triumphant as he shut down the equipment and turned to Feng Qi with a bashful smile.
"Thank you. I think I've got the brewing process down now. Next time, I won't need to bother you." Feng Qi grinned.
"It's no trouble. If you run into problems, feel free to ask me anytime."
After a brief exchange, Feng Qi left Le Ping'an's dormitory. His appreciation for the young student grew stronger with each interaction. Le Ping'an was not only humble but also exceptionally diligent.
During their brewing sessions, Le Ping'an often sought Feng Qi's guidance on cultivation techniques, meticulously jotting down the answers. Feng Qi had also noticed the student spending long hours in the library, engrossed in his studies. A teacher would naturally admire such a student.
Back in his dormitory, Feng Qi sat down at his desk. The energy progress bar now displayed 76%. Since brewing a bottle of Clear Mind Brew cost 1.25 million yuan and provided approximately 175% energy replenishment, he decided to drink only half.
If he consumed the entire bottle in one go, the energy bar would exceed 200%, causing him to re-enter the Dream Realm as soon as he fell asleep. Feng Qi preferred to plan each Dream Realm journey meticulously, ensuring that he achieved maximum efficiency rather than rushing into back-to-back excursions.
Uncorking the bottle, Feng Qi drank half the Clear Mind Brew. A rich fragrance exploded across his palate and through his nostrils. His body flushed with heat, and his skin turned a bright red as the energy surged through him.
The energy progress bar's percentage climbed steadily, eventually settling at 163%. The sensations in his body dissipated, leaving him clear-headed and focused.
Before entering the Dream Realm, Feng Qi opened his notebook. This time, he intended to align himself with the Crimson Research Institute to gather valuable intel. His primary objective was to collaborate with the institute in identifying and eliminating the werewolf hiding among the students.
This threat had become a thorn in his side. The students under his care were meant to form the backbone of his future domain combat squad. Rooting out the werewolf before cultivating their potential was critical.
Unmasking the werewolf could also lead to uncovering the hidden forces supporting it. Success would allow Feng Qi to expose the shadowy organizations operating within human civilization and set in motion plans to dismantle them.
By eradicating these hidden threats, humanity could focus on thriving without internal sabotage. Perhaps then, the future he glimpsed would no longer end in ruin but herald a new dawn.
Preparing for his Dream Realm journey, Feng Qi jotted down several critical pieces of information related to the werewolf.
Werewolf Clue 1: Lü Yue and the Xia family brothers are not the werewolf. After my death in the future, all four were executed via guillotine for unrelated crimes.
Werewolf Clue 2: The werewolf implanted a monitoring chip in my body, though the timing of its insertion remains unclear.
Note: Although Le Ping'an's background as a member of the Academy of Technology increased his suspicion, the mere fact that monitoring chips could be purchased online by ordinary individuals made it difficult to definitively label him as the werewolf.
Werewolf Clue 3: Hui Xu could largely be excluded as the werewolf. In the future, he became a spiritual guide for humanity, whose ideals were fundamentally opposed to the dark forces seeking to destroy human civilization.
Werewolf Clue 4: According to the information provided by Mo Fei, students Cai Guo, Le Ping'an, and Xu Hongyun, who were supposed to be serving life sentences, were secretly released. This raised their level of suspicion significantly, making it highly likely that one or more of them could be the werewolf.
Werewolf Clue 5: Other students, such as Yang Xiaoxin, Yan Yue, and Jia Yi (a member of the Crimson Research Institute), displayed no apparent signs of suspicion. However, the lack of evidence against them did not mean they could be completely ruled out.
Note: The werewolf might be the person hiding the deepest. A lack of suspicion doesn't necessarily mean innocence.
After consolidating the information related to the werewolf, Feng Qi sank into deep thought.
He realized a critical issue: if he joined the Crimson Research Institute, his relationship with the students would inevitably grow distant. This would make it harder to discern the werewolf's identity.
Weighing his options, Feng Qi decided to change his strategy. Instead of solely relying on the Crimson Research Institute, he would establish an organization aimed at countering the dark forces. This would allow him to maintain closer interactions with the students and increase the chances of identifying the werewolf.
The revised plan also included collaborating with the Crimson Research Institute to hunt down the werewolf. Once the target was identified, Feng Qi could then formally join the institute.
As for whether the Crimson Research Institute would trust him, that was easy to address. Thanks to the previous email correspondence, he already possessed several of the institute's secrets. Sharing this information could convince them of his ability to traverse timelines.
However, there was always a slim chance they might perceive him as a spy, leading to his imprisonment or even torture. The complexity of the plan reminded him of a spy novel, with layers of deception unfolding on multiple fronts.
On one side, he would form an organization to track the werewolf, knowing that the werewolf might infiltrate his group to gather intelligence. Simultaneously, he would act as a double agent for the Crimson Research Institute in their search for the werewolf. The relationships and motives were tangled in a web of intrigue.
Once his thoughts were organized, Feng Qi prepared to enter the Dream Realm and embark on the next phase of his journey. However, just as he was about to lie down, his phone rang.
The caller ID displayed Bai Fusheng's name.
Answering the call, Feng Qi heard Bai Fusheng's hearty laughter from the other end:
"The matter you asked me to handle is settled. Fang Zhiyou's parents have agreed to let him withdraw from school and join Star City Academy to work on your virtual technology project."
"Impressive, Shi-gong!" Feng Qi immediately flattered him with an exaggerated compliment.
"You were spot on about them," Bai Fusheng said, chuckling. "When I first contacted Fang Zhiyou's parents, they were adamant. They called virtual technology a foolish endeavor and accused me of ruining their child's future by encouraging him to abandon his education.
"But when we met in person, their attitude shifted completely after seeing me in my Star City Academy principal's uniform and wearing the official badge. They still doubted my identity, though, so I showed them my credentials."
"Didn't they suspect the credentials could be fake?" Feng Qi asked, intrigued.
"Of course they did," Bai Fusheng replied with a wry laugh. "So I had them look me up online. Thankfully, there are enough photos and information about me out there to dispel their doubts."
"And that was enough to convince them?"
"Not immediately. They were overly enthusiastic, hoping I'd help Fang Zhiyou enter the cultivation techniques research class. They kept steering the conversation in that direction, but I firmly refused. I don't condone favoritism."
Bai Fusheng continued, "I had to spend considerable effort explaining that Fang Zhiyou's grades weren't sufficient for admission to Star City Academy's cultivation program. However, his talent in virtual technology could lead to far greater achievements. After much hesitation, they finally called me earlier to agree."
He sighed deeply, adding, "Parents' expectations for their children often translate into pressure that doesn't necessarily benefit them."
Listening to Bai Fusheng's account, Feng Qi couldn't help but feel grateful. Bai Fusheng had clearly gone to great lengths to persuade Fang Zhiyou's parents. With their approval, the virtual engine project now had no obstacles—only time was needed to bring it to fruition.
After expressing his heartfelt thanks, Feng Qi ended the call. Sitting at his desk, he mulled over his plans before closing his notebook and heading to bed.
Lying down, he felt the lingering effects of the Clear Mind Brew. Slowly, his thoughts quieted, and a serene expression spread across his face as he drifted off to sleep.