The National Chat Room erupts: "Shock! The Spiritual Spring lord reveals his territory—Heavenly Court!"
"Collecting broken gear? Is he a blacksmith?"
"Businessman, bet."
"I was tossing this junk—now it's cash!"
"Why won't he friend me?"
Zhou Yan ignores the friend requests flooding in.
[Territory Prompt: "National Trading Hall recycled 1 Black Iron gear, -50 spirit coins."]
[Territory Prompt: "Recycled 3 Bronze gear, -1,500 spirit coins."]
[Territory Prompt: "Recycled 1 Silver gear, -5,000 spirit coins."]
Gear recovery prompts chime endlessly, lifting Zhou Yan's spirits. Others peg him as a profiteering smith. They can't fathom why he'd hoard broken gear—repair seems impossible at scale.
"They'll call me foolish," he smirks. Unlimited recycling baffles them. With most lords' weapons shattered, useless, they're eager to trade for coins. Some predict he'll stop soon, swamped by nationwide scrap. Yet he doesn't.
At the Smelting Workshop, Zhou Yan dumps a hill of damaged gear before Jerry and the dwarves. They gape.
"Repair these," Zhou Yan says. "Focus here—wine and meat tonight."
Laughter erupts. "Lord, it's ours! Fast as we can!" they cheer.
Repairing beats forging—faster, cheaper. Dozens of dwarves, boosted by the workshop and territory buffs, can fix thousands daily with minimal ore. Zhou Yan sells restored gear at 800-1,000 spirit coins for Black Iron—tenfold profit after 70-80 coin repair costs. Bronze and Silver yield more, but Black Iron dominates—90% of lords use it.
"I cursed capitalists," Zhou Yan muses. "Now I am one."
The cycle's genius: lords sell broken gear, buy his repairs, break them, sell again. "They work for me," he grins.
He lists all warehouse Black Iron gear, pricing at 800-1,000. Dwarf-crafted, high-attribute pieces sell out in half an hour. Friends' messages—envy, flattery—flash, but he ignores non-buyers.
Qin Yao chats: "You sold the Spiritual Spring? Hid that well!"
"You never asked," Zhou Yan retorts, feigning innocence.
"Kidding," she laughs. "That's your skill. I'm jealous. Ten liters, not too much?"
"Nope," he says, trading at prior rates. Fair's fair.
"Daily spring water now—no more scrambles," Qin Yao gloats. "Sweet."
"Public funds for personal use? I'm reporting you," Zhou Yan teases.
"Go for it! I'll learn your identity—oh, caught me!" she quips.
Their banter flows, familiarity easing formality. Qin Yao, a military lord, joined after her high-grade territory was scouted. Many lords take state resources, serving when needed—a mutual gain. No coercion; most accept.
Frozen Three Feet buys spring water too. Friends get first dibs—a perk.