Arya wiped her hands and exhaled softly.
"It's done."
Roy looked up at her, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction.
"That's great news. You wouldn't believe how many people have been asking me about antifreeze potions over the last two days."
Arya shrugged, her tone casual. "Antifreeze potions can wait. They can be made later—maybe even sold together with the kerosene."
Roy nodded thoughtfully. "Selling kerosene alone won't maximize profits. I'm planning to talk to Natasha and have her make stone heaters. If we bundle them together, the three of us should split the profit. What do you think?"
In truth, Roy had already been considering the feasibility of this plan ever since Arya decided to experiment with refining kerosene. He had even discussed the idea with Natasha beforehand. Now that Arya had successfully produced kerosene, the final missing piece was simply Natasha's craftsmanship.
"A stonemason?" Arya tilted her head slightly, considering it. "That could work. In that case, you decide the pricing."
The moment she heard that Roy already had a complete sales plan, Arya immediately stepped away from the business side of things. For her, research itself was the greatest joy. The finished products were merely byproducts—proof that her ideas worked.
What she truly needed was a problem to solve, a topic to explore, and the satisfaction of reaching a conclusion. Everything else was secondary.
"Alright," Roy said with a grin. "Leave it to me."
After a brief pause, he added, "By the way, how are your lessons with Professor Saimer going?"
"They're going well," Arya replied. "He's very dedicated."
"That's good to hear," Roy said. "I interviewed several candidates back then, and he was the one most eager to improve himself."
Their discussion ended shortly after. That night, Arya slept soundly beside Gang Siqiu, and when morning came, she immediately resumed her lessons.
The successful refinement of kerosene had proven something extremely important: the chemistry knowledge from Blue Star was genuinely useful here. Even if the practical application came with difficulties, the core principle remained undeniable—scientific understanding had real value.
On Blue Star, having a Harvard University professor provide one-on-one instruction was nothing more than a fantasy for ordinary families. Arya's family certainly could never have afforded it. Yet here she was, receiving focused guidance every day.
Outside, the shelter buzzed with activity.
"Anyone with wolf hides? I can make simple items. One wolf fur coat in exchange for two wolf hides!"
"Damn it! Why didn't I think of fur earlier?"
"You're too late," someone snapped. "Why didn't you say anything when the mana turbulence started?"
"People who already had fur made their gear quietly. If you don't have any, stop whining."
"It smells a little strange, but at least it's warm."
"I used to tan leather," another voice chimed in. "If anyone has wolf hides, I'll process them for free. Just give me one hide as payment."
"I've got a few rabbit pelts!"
"Bring them here."
At the far end of the marketplace, a louder announcement spread quickly.
"This shop is selling stone heaters! Limited to one hundred per day, bundled with one liter of kerosene! Also selling five hundred liters of kerosene daily—limit five liters per person!"
"Heaters? Kerosene? Roy's family has new stock again?"
"I understand stone heaters—you can carve those with tools. But how did they make kerosene?"
"I heard it was made by that witch, Arya."
"Huh? Can a witch even make something like that?"
"Witches can't—but alchemy can."
"Damn it, I should've studied alchemy too."
"Don't kid yourself," someone scoffed. "Do you think alchemy is easy? There's a university professor here who spends all day reading alchemy books and still hasn't figured it out. The leader even lets him research full-time."
"That sounds nice—doing nothing but reading."
"Nothing?" another person laughed. "Look at what Arya's produced. Every item she makes turns into money. Of course people are jealous."
"I just bought a heater and five liters of kerosene. I'm thrilled."
"Same here. You've got to admit—this is comfortable."
"I was too slow. Everything sold out."
"That profiteer Roy is ruthless. One heater costs a thousand units, and kerosene is a hundred per liter. He'll bleed us dry."
"Then don't buy it."
"I complain, but I still bought one. At least I'll sleep without freezing."
"Five liters per day feels stingy."
"It's enough. If you conserve it, it'll last two days. The mana turbulence should end soon."
"Still… I regret acting late."
The entire shelter buzzed with discussion about kerosene, alchemy, and Arya.
In truth, once Arya mastered the method and had sufficient materials, producing five hundred liters of kerosene took her barely an hour. Knowledge truly was power—and wealth.
If people knew how low the production cost actually was, Arya and Roy would probably face another storm of criticism. Roy didn't care. After all, someone already covered in fleas doesn't itch anymore.
Arya cared even less. People cursed with their mouths but paid eagerly with their hands.
Far from the bustling shelter, deep in the Abandoned Forest, stood a rough wooden cabin. Inside, men and women of all ages huddled around a flickering bonfire, their faces pale and exhausted from the cold.
Smith sat at a small desk nearby. Suddenly, he raised his voice.
"Everyone—Roy just sent us a heater."
The cabin erupted.
"Really?"
"Bring it out! Let's see it!"
"Finally!"
Smith chuckled. "Move back a little. I can't take it out if you're crowding me. It's not exactly small."
Once the space cleared, he extracted the item.
The stone heater resembled Arya's design, though it lacked an iron grate and glass window. Instead, its observation holes were shaped like honeycomb briquettes, reducing the risk of accidental ignition.
Beside it sat a wooden bucket with a lid—five liters of kerosene.
One man tried lifting the heater and immediately failed. He turned, helpless.
"John, Otto, Cam—give me a hand," Smith said. "Roy said it can only heat about twenty square meters. Put it in the small room."
"Got it."
"No problem."
The four men struggled together, muscles straining as they carried the heavy heater into the partitioned room.
Oil was added. The wick was lit.
Under everyone's watchful gaze, flames burst to life inside the heater.
"…Why do I suddenly feel warmer?" someone murmured.
"It just lit," another replied. "That's placebo."
"So what? Placebo warmth is still warmth."
"At least we won't wake up freezing to death."
"Burning wood fills the room with smoke. We're constantly opening windows and losing heat."
As the fire burned steadily, warmth slowly spread through the room.
For the first time in days, people relaxed.
Outside, the mana turbulence howled—but inside, the heater burned steadily, quietly proving that knowledge could change survival itself.
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