mtl008 Chapter 4211 A Guide to Wandering the Galaxy (8)
Chapter 4211 A Guide to Wandering the Galaxy (8)
Chapter 4211 A Guide to Wandering the Galaxy (18)
In fact, Schiller's prediction of the situation was somewhat inaccurate, because early the next morning, a line had formed outside the tavern.
When Schiller walked behind the bar, he thought he was hallucinating. Not only was the area in front of the bar packed, but there was also a long line of aliens with brightly colored skin behind it.
He just couldn't understand it. Aren't aliens supposed to have a culture of drinking? Why are they lining up at the pub so early in the morning?
Then he spotted the familiar purple-skinned alien in the group. The alien grinned at him and said in Interstellar Common, "Good morning, human. They really like your fruit and would like to buy some more."
Schiller then realized that this guy had taken the fruit platter back to share. Despite its high price, it was actually a very cost-effective option in the universe. More importantly, there were no restrictions on identity or purchase amount, and they could take it all home. So they all came in droves.
So Schiller started cutting the fruit platter. But almost the entire construction crew had come, and each person wanted two or three platters, so he couldn't cut them all and had to call everyone in the tavern over to cut the fruit.
He dumped all the fruit stored in the gray fog into the bar, causing a stir. He overheard a few words; they seemed to think Schiller was some high-ranking nobleman or a black market fruit vendor.
Pikachu couldn't help but roll his eyes. He said, "These people are really ignorant. Does having a lot of fruit make them nobles?"
“I’m afraid that’s true,” Schiller explained the information he had found yesterday, and then said, “There are advantages to the division of nations on Earth. The sooner they unify, the more solidified the class system will become. Their civilization has probably been passed down for thousands of years, and their class system is as solid as an impregnable fortress. Of course, they will judge others by their own standards.”
"If we build an orchard here and let them pick and eat their own fruit, wouldn't it sell like hotcakes?"
“You really have a good business sense. I’ll ask Pamela about it later.”
Schiller handed out fruit platters while chatting with the aliens, learning more about interstellar life from them.
"This fruit called watermelon is very good, even better than what I ate at the big estate owner's place. Although he also serves a lot of fruit at his banquets, most of it isn't very fresh. It's always the same few kinds of fruit, so it's not very interesting."
"Am I seeing things? This menu has juice? Do you juice fresh fruit? Isn't that a bit wasteful? Where I'm from, we only juice fruit that's about to spoil."
"Yes, we can buy fruit at the market too. The kind of fruit we eat is quite juicy, but it's not sweet; it just has a slight vegetable flavor. It's not as good as yours."
"The fruit in our community is ridiculously expensive. I'm already considered to be earning quite a bit, but a single melon costs tens of coins. We can't afford to eat it every day. It's a pity there's no cold storage here, otherwise I would definitely bring a watermelon back for my daughter to try."
Schiller then realized that his fruit was actually quite cheap. Although the quantity was small, it was fresh, not frozen or chilled, and it had both sweet and sweet-sour flavors, which made for an interesting combination, so the aliens were very interested.
However, Schiller didn't buy much fruit because he didn't directly supply producers; instead, he picked out the freshest produce from supermarkets. He visited several supermarkets but didn't buy much.
Human spacecraft aren't fast enough, and preservation technology isn't advanced enough to store fresh produce for extended periods. Large-scale transportation would likely result in spoilage before even reaching their destination. Therefore, research into cultivation is still necessary.
That very morning, Schiller had sold more than half of the fruit he brought in. So he had no choice but to agree to Pamela's suggestion to go back to Gotham to get some soil and see if it could adapt to the complex environment of this alien planet. As for whether the plants would be poisonous or harmful, he'd figure that out first.
Moreover, he noticed that these aliens were tall and strong, so if the fruit were to attack someone, he could simply open an arena where only those who could defeat it could eat it, while those who couldn't should stay out of the way.
After selling fruit platters all morning, everyone's hands were a little sore from cutting them. Everyone else went upstairs to rest, but Schiller went back to Earth again and bought some fruit. This time, he bought some less common varieties, such as custard apples, lychees, and tangerines.
Because he had overheard aliens complaining that fruit wasn't sweet enough, he guessed that some races had a poor sense of sweetness and therefore needed something more potent. Schiller even bought some canned yellow peaches, intending to eat them himself if no one else wanted them.
He had just returned when it was lunchtime again. Although the construction site provided meals, the tall, purple-skinned man brought a group of people over to eat again, chattering in dialect as if praising Schiller's cooking.
They were much more relaxed this time, seemingly understanding that the human standing behind the bar wouldn't suddenly go berserk and kill them all. They even dared to ask when ordering. So Schiller made them lychee roasted chicken, Texas bacon, sausages, and a vegetable salad. The main course was pizza, and each person had a large glass of beer.
The aliens ate with gusto, their mouths greasy, and then each received a large fruit platter. Schiller replaced it with new fruit, to the aliens' surprise.
"Is this also from Earth? You have so many kinds of fruit?"
"Is that a lot?" Schiller countered.
"Of course! Our native planet only has six kinds. And to be honest, I don't think three of them can even be considered fruits. It's just that the export tax on fruits is relatively low, so they forced vegetables into it."
"I don't have many where I'm from, maybe only seven or eight. But we've tasted so many here, so are there even more on Earth?"
“Of course, we have many, many kinds of fruit,” Schiller said after thinking for a moment. “And this is only a small part of it.”
"Moreover, we have different varieties of each fruit. For example, there are tangerines such as sugar tangerines, honey tangerines, mandarins, and green tangerines. There are also watermelons, cantaloupes, honeydew melons, and honeydew melons..."
The aliens exchanged glances and said with some envy, "No wonder Earth is called the cosmic greenhouse. You have so much fruit; your nobles must live very well."
Schiller opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. These fruits are basically affordable for everyone. Moreover, even poor countries, if geographically advantageous, don't lack fruit. For example, in some tropical South American countries, they can have plenty of tropical fruits like bananas, mangoes, and pineapples.
Schiller even opened a coconut for each of them. The big, purple-skinned man in the lead said with some surprise, "You actually have this kind of fruit with watery flesh. It's hard to imagine how abundant your water resources are."
However, the coconut water still received rave reviews from them. It wasn't that the taste was particularly special; the key point was that they could take the coconut shell back with them to show off to their tribe.
These guys went back and obviously gave it another big talking. Even before dinner time, there was already a queue. Schiller was incredibly busy, and these guys had also mastered the ways of the bar without any instruction; after dinner, they wouldn't leave, just order a drink and a fruit platter and chat.
Although no one dared to trouble Schiller to clean up, he couldn't leave since there were guests, so he had to wait there until midnight.
Once all the guests had left, he stormed into Pikachu's room, dragged the yellow mouse out of bed, and yelled in his ear, "Go recruit people! Did you hear me? Go recruit people!!!"
Pikachu picked at its ear and said, "Didn't you do a pretty good job?"
Then Pikachu received a death stare from Schiller, so he had no choice but to say, "Okay, I'll go back to Earth and ask if there's anyone who can come work the night shift."
Pikachu was pretty efficient. He went back in the middle of the night, and before the next morning, he brought back someone—guess what? It was Mephisto!
"Why is it you again?" Schiller couldn't help but ask.
“I was just about to ask you that. Such a great opportunity, and you didn’t even invite me? That’s not very buddy of a guy.” Mephisto used Johnny’s face. He leaned against the bar and said, “This is a great opportunity to broadcast the gospel to the universe.”
"You're here to mix drinks, not to preach."
"Tell me, am I really suited for the night shift?" Mephisto shook his head, finally revealing his true form: a demon with a devil's head and goat's hooves.
"This is the first time I've heard that the devil appears at night because they like working the night shift," Schiller said with a hint of sarcasm.
Even so, someone had come to help, and Schiller couldn't choose who it was. However, Mephisto actually did a pretty good job of it; as expected of a seductive devil, he quickly became friendly with the alien.
These aliens didn't possess the skills of a sorcerer, so of course they couldn't discern Mephisto's true form. The universe is full of strangely shaped people, and since they didn't have any demonic culture, they naturally wouldn't make that connection.
Mephisto was just taking a chance; while the beliefs of other civilizations weren't as valuable, something was better than nothing. Seeing that these aliens were quickly losing their nerve, Schiller quickly sent Mephisto to the kitchen; any later and it would turn into a cult hideout.
Whether the aliens believe in Mephisto or not is irrelevant, but the current Chancellor is the Sorcerer Supreme, and he won't give demons a friendly look. If they really trace it back to them, beating up Mephisto would be a minor matter; having their business license revoked would be a real problem.
Mephisto wasn't angry. He just did odd jobs and would occasionally stroll around the construction site. But you know what? He had a knack for reading people's minds. He came back to Schiller right after his stroll and said, "The workers you've hired... tsk tsk..."
Schiller glanced up at him as he wiped his glasses. Mephisto didn't keep him in suspense, leaning against the bar as he said, "That blue-skinned guy with the pattern on his head was a cyborg. He probably took over the identity of the unfortunate guy and stole his memories. Looks like he works for those robots."
"And that big red guy. He wasn't replaced, but he looks like he's been brainwashed. I suspect it was those bastards who did it; they're experts at this. My followers who were recruited by them before also suffered the same fate."
"And that duty manager. He's a bit suspicious too, but he's the most secretive. My gut feeling tells me he's got something big up his sleeve. You guys are in pretty much in deep trouble."
“Alright,” Schiller put the rag aside and said, “If you can’t help, don’t make sarcastic remarks. It’s like you get no benefit from humanity’s development of the galaxy. Or I should go inform the Sorcerer Supreme…”
“No, no, no,” Mephisto quickly said, “I’m just here to remind you, aren’t I? They can mix in sand, but I can’t? Just you wait and see, I promise I’ll handle this matter beautifully.”