Chapter Sixty-Nine: A Surge of Gifts in the Silence of the Crowd
“I can try out the equipment care spray now.” With a trace of excitement, Huang Yunshuo took out the glass bottle he had crafted himself and began spraying it onto the refined mining pick in his hand.
“Hiss, hiss, hiss, hiss.” With each spray, he watched the mining pick’s durability tick up. He continued until he’d sprayed it ten times, after which pressing the nozzle yielded no response—the cooldown time was sixty seconds.
“There’s still so much left!” Delighted, Huang Yunshuo stared at the bottle, which still held two-thirds of the solution. He’d previously thought a whole bottle could only increase durability by ten points, but it seemed he’d misunderstood.
“This is fantastic.” Considering the expensive cost of the solution and the uncertain failure rate, Huang Yunshuo’s heart no longer ached as much.
“The durability’s increasing! Just now it was at seven, now the mining pick’s durability is seventeen!”
“What is that? Never seen it in the shop.”
“Why are you guys so excited? I don’t see the big deal. Do we even need it?”
“Are you stupid? Maybe you don’t need it now, but you will when you get better gear. Then you’ll know how amazing this thing is—no need to return to town, no need to find a blacksmith, just a few seconds and your gear is repaired. And you’re telling me you don’t need it?”
“Where’d you get it? Does the streamer sell it?”
“Is he giving it away again?” An old viewer was intrigued.
“Hahaha!” In high spirits, Huang Yunshuo let out three hearty laughs and continued his work.
The refined mining pick lost one durability every four swings, so it took forty swings to use up the durability he’d just restored. Factoring in time spent positioning, swinging, and collecting drops, each cycle took three or four minutes, while the spray’s cooldown was only a minute.
In other words, as long as he had enough equipment care spray, this mining pick could be used endlessly without pause.
After the cooldown ended, Huang Yunshuo finished off the remaining spray in two more rounds, adding thirty points of durability and greatly extending the lifespan of his refined mining pick.
Durability: 1.
Huang Yunshuo put away the mining pick and switched to another.
He tallied his harvest: thirty-three pieces of grade nine iron ore, and four pieces of grade eight.
If he sold them all to Old Song, that would be 3,400 copper coins!
Six hundred eighty thousand credit points!
Standing on the ground, Huang Yunshuo gazed at the hole he’d dug in the mine wall, his expression somewhat dazed.
Was making money really this easy now?
Was this reality or a dream?
When Glory of the Glacier first launched, he’d worked countless times harder than now, earning at most ten thousand credit points a month—barely scraping by. Moreover, a portion of those credits often had to be spent on equipment materials.
But now, in this mine, he could earn over ten thousand credits every two minutes. How could he remain calm?
“First step ahead, every step ahead. Without the hidden profession, I’d be nothing.”
Huang Yunshuo always felt like a nobody, as if all his gains, benefits, and reputation were inseparable from the Frost Eagle, leaving him with a sense of wounded pride.
“Forget it, who cares. Black cat or white cat, making money is all that matters.”
He curled his lip and decided to take a break, when suddenly he noticed the live chat was exploding.
“Lottery!”
“Lottery!”
“Lottery!”
...
Thousands of voices merged into one; the only thing the chat wanted was a lottery. The barrage refreshed at a terrifying rate of hundreds of messages per second, and the stream’s popularity had nearly reached two hundred thousand viewers.
“Another lottery?” Huang Yunshuo spoke, his tone conflicted.
These people were clearly addicted to raffles.
He didn’t mind, but he wondered if the audience had enough meteors or stardust—he wasn’t interested in free gifts.
“Didn’t I already do one today? I’m selling these ores for money,” Huang Yunshuo replied, unwilling, ignoring the barrage.
“Are you getting cocky? Ignoring your bread and butter?”
“Come on, just do the lottery—even if it’s just two or three pieces of iron ore.”
“I want that equipment repair spray.”
[Streamer “Idiot” has set the current room to mute; nobody can send messages.]
A line of blood-red text flashed across the screen.
The frenzied barrage halted instantly; everyone’s input bar was locked, prompting a storm of curses.
Damn, idiot is idiot. Always messing around—does he really think he’s that amazing?
[Supermoderator] Starlit Ruoruo: “……”
At that moment, she was the only one who could speak in the chat.
Little Ruoruo’s face was lined with frustration; she had truly witnessed the streamer’s style.
Willful!
[Daddy sends streamer “Plane” x1] Message: Supermod, ban this idiot!
[Heaven’s First, Earth’s Second, I send streamer “Plane” x1] Message: Beat this brat!
[Wangta sends streamer “Plane” x1] Message: Supermod, destroy him!
[Wangta sends streamer “Plane” x2] Message: Supermod, destroy him 1!
[Wangta sends streamer “Plane” x3] Message: Supermod, destroy him 2!
[Linlinlin Oni sends streamer “Yacht” x1] Message: Is the spray for sale?
[Linlinlin Oni sends streamer “Yacht” x1] Message: What’s the spray called?
[Linlinlin Oni sends streamer “Yacht” x3] Message: How much does it cost?
[xxx sends streamer “Plane” x1] Message: Supermod, do something about this idiot!
[xx sends streamer “Plane” x1] Message: Suggest permanent ban!
...
What the hell!
Huang Yunshuo watched as the stream was normal one moment, then, after Starlit Ruoruo typed a string of ellipses, the gift effects went wild, leaving him speechless.
He collapsed to the ground, truly stunned by the barrage of gifts—planes, rockets, yachts.
What was going on?
He’d shamelessly begged for a hundred planes and got nothing, but after muting everyone, they went crazy—planes, rockets, yachts flying everywhere. Did anyone even care about the streamer anymore?
At her desk, Little Ruoruo’s face darkened again.
Left hand pressed to her chest, right hand massaging her forehead, she felt as if ten thousand llamas were charging through her heart, braying as they trampled back and forth.
The sensation was bittersweet.
She’d managed countless streams, but never encountered anything so bizarre—not just the streamer, but the audience as well.
Wanting the streamer to speak, so they send a hundred planes?
Over a hundred thousand people simultaneously spamming “lottery”—was this some new meme?
Streamer mutes everyone for no reason?
What kind of animosity was this? Even when major streamers went to war, fans insulted each other fiercely, but no one dared mute the entire audience—usually they just limited message intervals.
And then...
After the mass mute, viewers went wild, showering gifts like addicts?
In just a minute or two, over seventy planes had been sent, plus rockets and yachts—the number of big gifts was nearly a hundred!
All this, just to get her to punish him? Were credit points worthless to them?
As she paused in shock, more planes flew across the screen, and it seemed the frenzy wouldn’t end anytime soon.