Ye Ruo leaned back in his chair, marveling at the haul from his exquisite chest draw.
The array of oddities and treasures sparked a thrill he hadn't expected.
Common chests delivered daily staples—ores, plants, Mora aplenty.
Exquisite chests, though, unveiled a trove of practical wonders.
His luck had flared bright, yielding a clutch of standout prizes.
He tapped the Sumeru Yaks' entry, curiosity tugging at his mind.
A panel flared: sturdy pack beasts, gentle friends to humankind.
In Sumeru, they symbolized wealth, hauling goods across dunes and vines.
Caravans and gilded merchants relied on their broad backs for survival.
Ye Ruo nodded— Mondstadt could harness these hardy creatures too.
Horses pulled carts here, ferrying wares through bustling streets.
The Knights of Favonius stabled fine steeds, led by a cavalry captain.
His past life's game skipped horses—perhaps a planner's oversight.
This real Mondstadt teemed with details no screen could hold.
Yaks outshone horses for raw hauling, their strength a quiet boon.
Knights fought on horseback, but transport craved endurance over speed.
An idea bloomed: a yak brigade to bolster the city's logistics.
Rent them to merchants later—profit and utility in one stroke.
Worst case, their meat could feed a feast if Mora ran thin.
He chuckled—Jean could handle the herd; he wasn't a rancher.
A cover story would do—say they came from a trade deal.
Fifty thousand Mora glimmered next, a tidy but modest sum.
Teyvat's prices dwarfed his old world's—a meal bled thousands dry.
Instant noodles followed, a recipe sparking a flicker of déjà vu.
Why "again"? The thought nagged, then faded like a wisp.
Convenience defined it—quick, portable, a knight's field ration.
Boil water, and it's ready—perfect for outposts in the wild.
"Knights reduced to noodles? Scandalous!" he mused with a smirk.
No such stigma existed here—dry food just made sense.
A bike rolled in, wheels glinting from a world beyond Teyvat.
Mineral water stacked beside it, pure but unremarkable to a traveler.
Familiarity dulled their shine—he'd seen their like before.
Then came APTX4869, a drug cloaked in sinister promise.
Memories stirred—a poison from a detective's grim tale.
It killed silently, leaving no trace, shrinking a rare few instead.
Ye Ruo frowned—dangerous, unpredictable, a wildcard to stow away.
Mikami Satoru's hundred tomes puzzled him, names half-forgotten.
A slime's past life clicked into place—useless here, he'd burn them.
The Knight Training Manual glowed last, a gem of practical craft.
It detailed drills to hone strength and reflexes for green recruits.
He'd weave it into the Knights' regimen, a gift for Noelle's growth.
Luck had smiled—half his haul held real weight.
He'd braced for a Mora flood, the chest's fallback prize.
Common draws sometimes coughed up empties, a bitter jest.
The system pegged that odds to rare, top-tier loot—a cruel balance.
Ye Ruo snorted—no sane soul craved that kind of "luck."
This time, though, otherworldly trinkets dominated the take.
Eight thousand legend points remained, fame still trickling in.
Five hundred per exquisite draw—he could squeeze out sixteen more.
Ten had dazzled him; he'd save the rest for later.
The system thrummed, a quiet hymn to his rising star.
Next, he'd pen Old Mond's new volume, the cliffhanger's sequel.
Then off to Jean with the yaks—let her sort the logistics.
In her office, Jean hunched over papers, duty's endless grind.
A knight rapped the door, stepping in with crisp respect.
"Captain Jean, Captain Ye Ruo requests you at Warehouse 16," she reported.
Jean paused, curiosity piqued—Ye Ruo rarely summoned her.
***
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