The next morning, Lin appeared before Ren with her trademark sadistic smile. Not even his exhaustion from the cultivation process could save him from training.
“Faster!” Lin’s voice cut through the morning air as she made him run with weighted bands strapped to his limbs.
When he was finally released that afternoon, his muscles trembling from exertion, Ren decided to demonstrate his cultivation process to his friends. They gathered around, watching with curiosity and apprehension as he meticulously laid out his materials.
“First, I crush the poisonous fungi…” Ren began explaining, his movements precise and practiced.
Min nodded along, following the process with keen interest until Ren reached the part about overloading with ten times more mana than Taro and controlling his veins with the tentacle while enduring excruciating pain.
His eyes glazed over, and he toppled backward like a felled tree.
“Min!” Taro lunged forward to catch him.
Liu observed in silence, his bat ears occasionally manifesting as a reflection of his unease. The methodical way Ren handled materials that would make most people retch was… disturbing, to say the least.
“And you say you’ll absorb all that every day for a hundred days?” Liu finally asked, his voice a blend of admiration and horror.
“Just a hundred days,” Ren replied with an unsettling casualness.
Liu nodded slowly, his respect for Ren growing alongside a healthy dose of caution. There was again, something deeply unsettling about the ease with which his friend handled substances that could kill a grown adult.
The following days fell into a new routine. Classes continued as normal, though Luna now watched Ren with an intensity that made everyone around them uncomfortable.
“I think she’s plotting your death,” Taro whispered one day during Mei’s class.
“Or your wedding,” Min added, earning a sharp elbow from Ren.
Training sessions with Lin grew more intense. Each day brought new exercises, new aches, new boundaries to push past. The mushrooms in Ren’s hair seemed to pulse in rhythm with his growing strength.
“Your body is changing,” Lin observed as she watched him lift weights, her keen eyes noting the subtle transformations. “Whatever cultivation you’re doing… it’s working.”
Ren could only grunt in response, too focused on not dying from exhaustion and pain.
Finally, at the end of the second month, the official crystal report arrived. Ren opened his during breakfast, the mushrooms in his hair pulsing with anticipation.
The report detailed everything: crystals mined from the caves, specimens collected, even processed and sold beast hides.
Guard signatures and Master Song’s verification certified the mined crystals, while Isaac and Jessy’s signatures confirmed the hide sales profits.
Zhao’s signature at the bottom of the collection report certified each of the last items.
Ren’s eyes grew wider and wider as he tallied the amounts. The academy would double everything: crystals found in the caves, beasts’ materials values, collected materials, processed and sold materials’ profits…
“How much is it?” Min leaned over his shoulder, curiosity evident in his voice.
Ren revealed the total. His friends gasped in unison.
“That’s…”
“No wonder Luna’s interested,” Taro joked, earning a death glare from Ren.
♢♢♢♢
The academy’s bank occupied the administrative tower’s first floor, a surprisingly modest space considering the wealth it managed.
At this hour, it was nearly empty, with only a few senior students making routine inquiries.
Ren felt small as he climbed the stairs, his official report clutched firmly in hand.
“Well, look who it is!” Mr. Finch’s high-pitched, mocking voice sliced through the silence. “The academy’s most prosperous fungus cultivator! My most intriguing depositor!”
The banker was a short, thin man with round spectacles that magnified his eyes until they resembled those of a startled mouse. His perfectly trimmed mustache seemed to have a life of its own when he spoke.
Despite his impeccable banker’s uniform, something in his eyes suggested he found everything terribly amusing.
His beast, a small white mouse, occasionally darted between his fingers as he counted crystals.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Finch,” Ren approached the counter, the mushrooms in his hair pulsing gently.
“Come to confess your crimes?” Finch smiled as his mouse approached, sniffing the air suspiciously. “Because I must say, five dark bronze crystals two weeks ago was quite… interesting. Not many ten-year-olds handle that denomination.”
“Actually…” Ren began pulling out the report.
“Oh, wait! Don’t tell me!” Finch raised a hand dramatically. “Found an ancestral treasure? Robbed a noble’s chest? Or perhaps your mushrooms have hallucinogenic properties, and you’ve been selling them to the senior students?”
The mushrooms pulsed with amusement as Ren slid the report across the counter.
“What’s this?” Finch adjusted his glasses. “Your written confession? How considerate, normally I have to…”
He stopped mid-sentence, arching an eyebrow while stroking his mustache, his eyes growing even larger behind his glasses as he read.
“This is…” he blinked several times, his mouse jumping to review the numbers. “No, no, there must be a mistake.”
“Is there a problem?” Ren asked, suppressing a smile.
“Problem?” Finch let out a hysterical laugh. “The problem is these numbers make no sense! Two weeks ago, you bring five dark bronze crystals, which was already suspicious enough. And now?” he consulted the report again, “fifty-five thousand additional crystals?”
His mouse began frantically calculating in a small notebook.
“One hundred and five thousand crystals in total!” Finch removed his glasses to clean them compulsively. “With a spore? The weakest recorded creature? Are you certain you haven’t been selling illegal substances?”
“Everything’s in the report,” Ren replied. “With Professors Song and Zhao’s signatures.”
“Ah yes, the signatures…” Finch narrowed his eyes. “You’re sure you didn’t forge them? Or perhaps hypnotize the professors? Do your mushrooms have hypnotic properties in addition to being hallucinogenic?”
“I just need to withdraw five thousand crystals.”
“Just he says!” Finch turned to his mouse. “Did you hear that, Theodore? ‘Just’ five thousand crystals. As if it were pocket change.”
The mouse nodded solemnly while continuing its calculations, tiny paws moving across the ledger with surprising dexterity.
“You know,” Finch leaned over the counter, his eyes gleaming with undisguised curiosity.
“I’ve been at this bank for fifteen years. I’ve seen students with legendary beasts amass fortunes. I’ve watched nobles squander entire inheritances. But never, and I mean NEVER, have I seen someone with a spore earn so much in such a short time.”
He straightened, adjusting his glasses with practiced precision.
“Either you’re a criminal genius, or there’s more to those mushrooms of yours than anyone thought.”
“About those five thousand crystals…?” Ren persisted.
“Yes, yes,” Finch began counting but paused mid-motion. “Just five thousand? No grand plans? No extravagant investments? No fleet of golden carriages?”
“Not for now.”
“Boring,” Finch sighed dramatically. “Sure you won’t share your secret? Between financial colleagues? I promise not to tell anyone. Except Theodore, of course, but he’s a vault. Aren’t you, Theodore?”
The mouse nodded again, though its whiskers quivered with what appeared to be suppressed laughter.
“Just good luck,” Ren replied.
“Ha! Good luck?” Finch snorted while counting crystals. “Next you’ll tell me you won it all playing dice!”
As the banker prepared his withdrawal, Ren reflected on his true plans. The mushrooms in his hair pulsed while his thoughts drifted to his home.
The problem was that now they had to rent it.
‘First,’ Ren thought while Finch counted crystals with unnecessary flourish, ‘I’ll get their house back. Then…’
His eyes gleamed with determination.
‘Then I’ll show them they can have more.
“Voilà!” Finch interrupted his thoughts, presenting the crystals with a theatrical gesture and sliding them toward Ren.
“Here you are, my mysterious mycological magnate. Five thousand crystals, perfectly counted by the humble servant before you and verified by the illustrious Theodore.”
The mouse executed a small bow.
“Thank you.”
“Oh no, thank you,” Finch smiled while stroking his mustache.
“You’ve made my week far more interesting. Usually, I just see students complaining their allowances won’t cover cultivation crystals. But you…” he shook his head with mock admiration, “you’re a mystery wrapped in an enigma and covered in glowing mushrooms.”
The mushrooms in Ren’s hair pulsed with what seemed to be amusement as he stored the crystals.
“Until next time, Mr. Finch.”
“Ah, a threat of future surprises!” Finch turned to his mouse. “Theodore, keep an eye on this one. When we least expect it, he’ll show up riding a dragon made of fungi.”
As Ren walked away, he could hear Finch muttering.
“A spore… one hundred and five thousand crystals! Theodore, perhaps we should consider a career in mycology…”