"Due to the limited quantity, each person can only purchase up to five bottles of Kul Tiras slimming pills per day," Rowe announced.
Fatty frowned but nodded nonetheless. "Alright, how much for five bottles?"
"Fifty gold coins per bottle."
A month had passed.
Boss Baelish, who was originally of medium build, now brimmed with vitality and appeared much younger, his energy noticeable every day.
That day, Luo Wei came to collect more black fish. As he leaned in close to Baelish, he whispered, "I heard you're selling the slimming pills at fifty big gold coins per bottle?"
"Yeah," Rowe affirmed.
Both the shining star grass and black fish were common ingredients, resulting in low production costs. Over the past month, Luo Wei had made nearly a hundred runes, and the pills' daily sales continued to rise steadily.
The pills Baelish had taken were freebies, as was the black fish, so he remained unaware of the actual price.
Baelish's expression changed as he slapped his thigh and frowned. "You… how could you…"
Rowe blinked, caught off guard. "Is it expensive? I thought it was reasonable. Most people should be able to afford it."
Baelish shook his head. "It's too cheap! That's the problem!"
Rowe was stunned. "Huh?"
"This isn't like a regular potion or healing stone that you consume repeatedly," Baelish said firmly. "Weight gain only happens once for most people. You're losing money with this low price!"
Rowe rubbed his chin. "Then what do you suggest the price should be?"
"At least one rune. That would still be considered modest, and you'd turn a steady profit," Baelish replied.
Rowe hesitated. "But if it's priced that high, it might cost over a dozen runes for someone to successfully slim down. Wouldn't customers be put off?"
Baelish looked at him askance. "Do I look fat to you? Let me tell you—most people in Asgard who are heavier than I am would gladly pay even more for results like this."
"The pain of obesity is second only to the pain of trying to lose weight."
"We all used to dream of a miracle pill like this—something effortless, no side effects, and affordable."
"If you're selling it for just fifty gold coins, as a customer, I almost feel like I'm robbing you." Baelish sighed dramatically. "You're too kind to be in business!"
Rowe: "…"
He'd never intended to set the price that high. In fact, he thought fifty gold coins was already an excellent profit margin. But hearing Baelish now, he began to think he was underselling.
Baelish pressed the matter. "Listen to me—raise the price to one rune. Your sales won't drop. I guarantee it."
After a brief pause, Rowe eventually nodded in agreement.
Baelish's eyes lit up, and he grinned. "Great. I'll be in charge of supplying your black fish from now on. As much as you need, straight to your door. Guaranteed supply, no disruptions."
He paused, then continued, "Naturally, home delivery will be a bit pricier. Say… fifty percent above the market rate. Sound fair? With the profits you'll be making on the pills, I doubt you'll mind."
So that was his real motive!
What a shrewd profiteer!
Rowe narrowed his eyes, considered for a moment, then raised a finger. "One percent."
…
Time marched on. Ten years passed.
In the training space, the bodies of four gnolls lay scattered on the ground.
Leaning on Verrigan's warhammer, Rowe stood panting, his gaze locked on the sole remaining gnoll. The creature returned his stare, gripping its battle axe nervously.
Though this gnoll looked no different from the others—wolf-headed, savage, bloodstained—his identity was far from ordinary.
For over a decade, Rowe had sparred against Hogg, failing to ever defeat him. Even now, their matches were still too evenly matched to declare a clear victor.
Lately, Rowe had come close on several occasions, but either Hogg narrowly escaped or Rowe fell to the gnoll's savage assault.
"Clang! Clang!"
Their weapons clashed again, sparks flying from each collision of axe and warhammer.
Mid-battle, Hogg opened his mouth at the perfect moment.
Rowe's expression changed. He immediately activated the Divine Protection Technique.
"Owwww!" Hogg's howl cut through the air, razor-sharp and resonant. The sonic shockwave rippled outward like a stone tossed into still water.
It was the same sonic roar technique used by Graf Swifttooth, but vastly more powerful.
Rowe's vision blurred, his mind went fuzzy, and his balance wavered—despite the Divine Protection shielding him.
And this was after years of building resistance. The first time he encountered this ability, it had knocked him clean out of the training space before he even had time to react.
"Get in my belly!" Hogg bellowed, charging forward, axe raised.
Rowe snapped out of his daze just in time to see the axe swinging down toward him. With no time to parry, he immediately exited the training space—narrowly avoiding decapitation and settling for another draw.
Breathing heavily, he clutched his head, which throbbed faintly.
That roar… it was nearly unbeatable. Once triggered, it bypassed all defenses, affecting both mind and body. Only the Divine Protection skill could mitigate its effects. How could he win against that?
Rowe pondered this problem deeply but came up with nothing.
With a weary sigh, he left his house and headed toward the Brave Hunter Tavern.
In the last ten years, the success of Kul Tiras weight-loss pills had eliminated nearly every obese person in Asgard. Paired with his miracle hair restorer, Rowe's Azeroth Herbal Shop had become one of the most renowned—and strange—herbal establishments in the realm.
He'd made thousands of runes in pure profit. But as obesity and baldness waned, so too did business.
He'd considered expanding to other realms, but the idea seemed impossible.
For one, the Bifröst wouldn't accommodate a merchant's cargo. For another, the pills and restorers were astronomically expensive to non-Asgardians.
One rune per bottle… equivalent to about twenty pounds of gold. That kind of cost could only be met by gods.
With less demand, Rowe had more time. Besides refining skills and studying, he spent most of his days tracking four-horned goats.
Every afternoon, after lunch, he and Tialfi would venture into the Landveti Forest, hoping to find one of the elusive beasts. Sometimes, they'd just catch a large goat and have a barbecue.
The hunting festival was coming up. If they didn't catch a four-horned goat soon, they'd have to wait a whole century for the next one.
That day, just as Rowe stepped into the tavern and was about to place his order, a servant approached him.
"Mr. Rowe, Tialfi asked me to inform you—he's occupied for the next few days and won't be able to accompany you to the forest."
That was surprising.
Tialfi spent nearly all his waking hours either eating or roaming the forest. This was the first time in ten years he'd canceled a hunt.
Rowe raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback.
Still, he waved it off casually. "Alright, thanks for the message."
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