Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

During these four days, aside from the necessary eating, drinking, and relieving himself, Lance had been like a tireless alchemical puppet, mechanically repeating the motions of grinding, boiling, and stirring.

By the end, just smelling that familiar moss scent made his stomach churn violently with nausea.

If not for Hvergelmir’s Surge granting him abnormal stamina and extremely high resistance to negative states—

he would have dropped dead in front of the crucible on the second day.

Even so—

after finishing the final jar of ointment, his mental defenses completely collapsed, and he could only rely on sleep for his body to recover.

Fortunately, it was all worth it.

Lance dragged out the heavy money pouch from under the bed, untied the string, and tossed it upward with force.

“Clatter…”

Silver coins rained down like droplets, covering the entire bed.To Lance, the crisp sound of metal colliding was the most pleasant melody in the world.

After deducting all material and labor costs—

his net profit over these four days totaled 157 silver coins.

Looking at the small mountain of silver coins on the bed, Lance grinned widely.

Adding his previous savings, his total assets had officially surpassed one gold coin.

“I’m rich now.”

Lance let out a strange shout and threw himself onto the pile of silver coins in a spread-eagle position.

He had originally thought it would be some kind of ultimate enjoyment.

But the next second, he bared his teeth and scrambled back up.

Too hard.

Those rigid metal edges dug painfully into his ribs.

Rubbing his chest, Lance couldn’t help but complain inwardly—those legendary Dragons who liked sleeping on piles of gold and gems must all be thick-skinned masochists.

Or they were lying.

This wasn’t comfortable at all.

As Lance gathered the coins back into the pouch, he looked around.

This cramped attic, after days of abuse, had its walls and floor thoroughly soaked with potion vapors, leaving a lingering strange odor in the air.

It was clearly no longer suitable for human habitation.

It was time to move.

Before looking for an agent, Lance habitually summoned his system panel.

The intense effort over the past few days, while painful, had also brought some unexpected rewards.

Several new notification messages appeared on his retina.

[After hundreds of repetitions of fire control, stirring, skimming, and bottling, you can now complete the entire process with your eyes closed. You have independently comprehended the skill: Basic Potion Crafting LV1]

[Basic Potion Crafting Proficiency +264]

[Basic Potion Crafting LV2 (14/400), Perception +1]

[After continuously observing the fusion reactions of medicinal ingredients under different temperatures for four days, Pharmacology Knowledge +32]

[Pharmacology LV1 (41/1000)]

Lance raised his brows in pleasant surprise.

He hadn’t expected that this kind of mechanical labor could lead to learning a new skill, and even boost his Perception.

This was truly an unexpected gain.

The increase in knowledge experience was also within expectations.

It seemed these past few days of suffering hadn’t been in vain.

In a great mood, Lance quickly washed up, changed into clean clothes, and went out.

As a transit hub for adventurers, Graystone Town had a highly developed real estate rental industry.

After all, countless newcomers with dreams poured in every day, while countless veterans—either heartbroken or wealthy—left.

This high mobility gave rise to services similar to real estate agents from Lance’s previous life.

His previous two residences had both been found this way.

Now that he had money, Lance’s standards naturally rose.

Comfort had to improve, space had to be larger, and there had to be independent private areas.

After hearing Lance’s requirements, the shrewd agent showed him two properties.

The first was located near the craftsman district.

It was a single-story standalone wooden-and-stone house, with a fairly spacious living room and one bedroom, and even a separate backyard.

Most neighbors were blacksmiths or leatherworkers. Although slightly noisy during the day, the relationships were simple, and nights were relatively quiet.

The rent was 10 silver coins per month.

More than double his current attic, but still within acceptable range.

The second was located at the edge of the merchant square.

It was a refined two-story residence. The first floor had a spacious living room and a fully equipped kitchen, while the second floor had two separate bedrooms.

There was also a small backyard.

What tempted Lance the most was that the house came with a dry, well-ventilated cellar—perfect for storing herbs and miscellaneous items.

Moreover, the location was excellent.

It was only a few streets away from Flora’s residence, and only a five-minute walk to Movenna’s potion shop.

Even future gatherings with friends could easily fit in that spacious living room.

Of course, the price was equally “moving.”

The monthly rent was as high as 18 silver coins.

Standing on the second-floor balcony and looking at the bustling merchant square in the distance, Lance calculated in his mind.

Although 18 silver coins sounded expensive, at his current earning rate, this expense would only account for about 10% of his monthly income.

Completely reasonable.

Moreover, since he planned to continue making potions long-term, he truly needed a separate room as a workshop—so he wouldn’t end up marinating himself in fumes like this time.

That cellar was even more of a necessity.

“I’ll take this one.”

Lance made his decision.

Since he didn’t have much luggage, he completed the move that very afternoon.

However, when returning the old place, he still painfully paid 4 silver coins in cleaning fees to the landlord.

After all, turning someone’s perfectly good attic into a gas chamber—compensation was only fair.

That very evening after moving—

this two-story house at the edge of the merchant square welcomed its first lively visitors.

To celebrate the housewarming, Lance spared no expense.

He not only spent heavily at the market buying fresh, high-grade ingredients, but also specially went to the craftsman district to pay a blacksmith to urgently forge a professional iron rack.

That’s right.

He was planning to recreate a backyard barbecue party in this other world.

The setting sun bathed the backyard in warm light as charcoal crackled beneath the grill.

Amber, as the young lady of Boar and Rose, naturally didn’t come empty-handed.

Like a porter, she carried in two barrels of her family’s brewed rye beer, along with several sets of popular card and board games from this world, striding in boldly.

As for Nia and Flora, the two girls perfectly embodied the art of freeloading—bringing nothing but two mouths ready to eat.

“Leave it to me! I can grill!”

Nia excitedly seized control of the grill.

However, just ten minutes later—

looking at the few pieces of meat on the plate, charred black like charcoal and giving off a bitter burnt smell, Lance and Amber exchanged a glance and shook their heads helplessly.

“Alright, young lady, you should just wait to eat over there.”

Amber snatched the tongs and skillfully took over the grill.