Chapter Sixteen: The Artificer

The ordeal of the Second Elder did not go unnoticed by the other elders, but at this moment, it was entirely his own fault—a case of reaping what he had sown. As the saying goes, better him than me. None of them wished to face the wrath of Chen Zhenhai.

Though the Second Elder, whose acupoints had been sealed, was not collapsed on the ground like the disciples from the Disciplinary Hall, he was still unable to move. Staring in terror at Chen Bo’s wicked grin, he cried out, “Chen Bo, what do you think you’re doing? I am an elder—your senior! Ahhh!”

Chen Bo’s paddle landed squarely on his behind, the sound reminiscent of a sledgehammer striking the floor—painful even to hear. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Each blow heavier than the last, until a sharp crack echoed; the paddle snapped in half, sending splinters flying.

Panting, nearly out of breath, Chen Bo tossed the broken piece aside and gasped, “Whew… As expected of the Second Elder. Your hide is tough indeed—over fifty blows and not even a scratch, yet you broke my paddle! Nearly wore me out.”

The Second Elder’s lips twitched, his expression a tangled mess. Though Chen Bo could not break through his defenses, the pain was excruciating.

That deep, bone-penetrating agony was familiar to anyone on Earth who’d suffered an injection to the rear—once was more than enough to swear never again.

Yet that was not the worst of it. The real humiliation was that he was forced to lie prone, with his most sensitive area pressed firmly against the ground. Each strike from Chen Bo brought another mortifying grind against the earth, and to his horror, the sixty-year-old elder felt a reaction.

Thus began his true misery. A few more strikes, and it was no longer pleasure but pure agony—he suspected something had broken.

“Ladies and gentlemen, now I understand why ancient constables took such joy in administering corporal punishment—this is downright exhilarating!” Chen Bo, having caught his breath, picked up another intact paddle and continued.

“Six-six-six-six-six, our host has turned into a real sadist! He’s even interested in an old man—utterly depraved, desperate beyond belief!”

“Careful, or you’ll end up on the host’s blacklist.”

“Watching the host get so into it, my hands itch too. Maybe I should buy a little whip tonight and experiment on my husband?”

“Miss above, I’ve got chili oil here. Apply it to the whip first—you’ll be amazed by the results.”

“Little whip, enema kit, lube, vibrating egg for men—no ninety-nine, no eighty-eight, just one eighty-eight! Only one eighty-eight!”

“PM the seller above.”

Seeing the chat devolve into chaos, Chen Bo glanced at the prone Second Elder and shivered for no apparent reason. He hurriedly shoved the paddle into his father’s hands and said with utmost seriousness, “Dad, good luck! Your son’s rooting for you!”

With that, he quickly retreated, leaving the others bewildered.

Back in his room, Chen Bo closed the door, grinned at the camera, and said, “Dear viewers, your host risked his life to bring you a live face-slapping drama. Surely that deserves a little appreciation, right?”

“I Am Not Huang Rong tips the host 999 coins—there, there, chin up!”

“So Comfortable tips the host 66,666 coins—not as much as Brother Ma Yun, but I’m not short of cash! Pat pat!”

“Adorkable Bookworm tips the host 2,333 coins. Whoa, Anji, are you planning to live frugally this year? Host, pat-pat on the grass.”

“Silver tips the host 3,588 coins—host, hurry and do a double intermediate lottery draw! Pat-pat on the sun.”

“Cloud Turtle tips the host 188 coins—la la la, just passing by, host pat-pat on the dry.”

Chen Bo stared, dumbfounded, as the tips flooded in—tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions of yuan. Just this wave alone tallied up to over ten million yuan.

This meant his coin balance now exceeded two hundred thousand.

“Thank you, everyone, especially the big spenders who just dropped hundreds of thousands, even millions in one go. Just a reminder: money doesn’t come easy, so please spend wisely!”

“All right, enough chit-chat. It’s time for the most exciting moment—the big lottery draw!”

No sooner had he finished speaking than an intermediate lottery wheel appeared before him.

“All right, this time the host is going for two intermediate draws. Three years isn’t long, and I don’t want to die young before my time! After all, I don’t have a girlfriend, neither on Earth nor here!”

“Let’s see what the intermediate draw offers: a pair of military boots, a solar-powered fan, a husky, a Transformers toy, a Chinese cookbook…”

“Definitely better than the basic draw, but honestly, nothing here is any use.”

Feeling his luck had run dry, Chen Bo muttered for the draw to begin. The pointer landed on a box of liquor-filled chocolates.

Useless as it was, at least it was edible—a snack was better than a toy. Still, one hundred thousand coins spent on this box, equivalent to one million yuan, was enough to set a Guinness World Record.

He put the chocolates away, forced a bitter smile, and said, “Looks like my luck really is gone. A million yuan for a box of chocolates—my life is bleak indeed.”

Host: Chen Bo
Status: Good
Level: 3
Cultivation: Middle Stage, Skin Tempering Realm
Items: Crystal hairpin (1), Minor Restoration Pill (2), Liquor Chocolates (22)
Techniques: None
Coins: 170,630
Viewers: 36,582,474

His viewership had surpassed thirty million, and he’d reached level three. It seemed every ten million viewers granted another level.

Even if this level count served little practical purpose, it was better than displaying a big zero.

With over 170,000 coins left, Chen Bo decided on another intermediate draw, reducing his balance by another 100,000 to 70,630.

“Today, I’m going to wrestle with this wheel. I refuse to believe I’ll draw another useless item!”

The items on the wheel had changed again: a high-explosive grenade, a bag of genetically modified rice, the Complete Guide to British Dark Cuisine, and the Basic Handbook for Artificers.

Artificer! Chen Bo’s eyes immediately locked onto the term. Artificers were among the most esteemed professionals on the Wildlands. If he became one, he’d never have to worry about the three-year promise again. In Flames Town, there wasn’t a single artificer. If he could become one, he’d be the town’s lucky charm—his strength would skyrocket just from chewing on medicinal pills.

Of course, this was just wishful thinking.

There were four highly esteemed and rare professions on the continent: alchemist, healer, artificer, and formation master.

Leaving the others aside, take the artificer as an example. Artificers forged weapons and required exceptional talent; rote memorization of techniques was not enough.

To forge, one needed a furnace, a collection of miscellaneous tools, and, most importantly, fire!

But not just any fire—ordinary flames produced nothing better than tools for chopping firewood or slicing vegetables. To forge graded weapons, one needed a special flame called “Primordial Fire.”

Weapons were ranked, as was Primordial Fire. From lowest to highest, weapons were classified as Treasure, Origin, and Dao implements, each with primary, intermediate, and advanced subgrades.

Primordial Fire also came in grades: third, second, and first, each with primary, intermediate, and advanced levels.

Third-grade Primordial Fire could forge Treasure implements, second-grade for Origin implements, and first-grade for Dao implements.

The most powerful blade in the Chen family was merely a primary Treasure Sword—wielded by Chen Bo’s father, the family patriarch, and the clan’s most prized weapon.

Due to special circumstances, updates this month can only be posted before 8 a.m. or after 11 p.m. Please understand—Little Bei is typing on a mobile, and only has limited data left.

Even the editor can’t get a response from Little Bei. What a pain—data runs out so fast!