At the mountain estate, huge cauldrons were set up, each watched over by a deer demon who kept stoking the fire. Inside every cauldron, experts were being boiled in medicinal broth, and the scent of herbs filled the air.
Besides the cauldrons, there were also giant steamers—some experts were being steamed alive in baskets. Quinn Shepherd made his rounds, checking the medicinal broth, swapping out herbs several times, and for those whose Divine Treasuries had been damaged, he added more needles—using hollow silver needles to channel the steam directly into their bodies.
Emperor Evan’s entire body bristled with silver needles. He glared at Quinn, his face dark as thunder.
Quinn pressed the emperor back down into the steamer basket, but Emperor Evan immediately sat up ramrod-straight again, still glaring at him.
Quinn grinned. “Your Majesty, what can I do for you?”
Emperor Evan suddenly switched expressions, his tone turning gentle and pleasant. “Quinn, you’ve worked hard and achieved great things. Shouldn’t you be promoted?”
Quinn looked puzzled. Emperor Evan’s expression grew even more amiable. “You’re still just fifth rank, yet you’ve racked up so many achievements—refitting the Solar Ark, inventing the Solar-Shooting God Cannon, helping the Crown Prince with water transport, saving me from peril time and again, and now you’ve brought in the Skyfeather Clan. Far too many merits. I can’t possibly leave you unrewarded. Tell me, what do you want?”
Quinn scratched his head, thought for a moment, and ventured, “Your Majesty, treating everyone’s injuries this time cost a fortune in medicine. Buying cauldrons, silver needles, and steamers wasn’t cheap either. I fronted all that money myself—do you think you could maybe…?”
Emperor Evan’s face instantly darkened. “That doesn’t count as a reward! The Ministry of Revenue has the funds—go ask them! What I want to give you is something they can’t provide. So, what do you really want?”
Quinn pondered for a while. Money? He was never short of cash. An official post? Didn’t interest him much. Fame? As Heavenly Demon Cult Master, his reputation was already legendary—what need for more?
Treasures?
He’d already snatched plenty of loot, squeezed a lot out of Lord Dragonkeeper, and Lina the Spirit Fox had hauled in a hundred rare treasures from the Golden Palace. He still had the Worryless Sword and Sword Pill—seemed he wasn’t lacking in that department either.
Heavenly herbs, divine pills? Not needed—Quinn was a divine physician himself.
Quinn shook his head. At last, he understood why the Imperial Preceptor always looked so awkward—nothing the emperor could grant ever caught his eye, so every reward just felt pointless.
“Think a bit harder.”
Emperor Evan coaxed him patiently, “I’m sure I have something you want. It might not be a thing, or an official post—could even be a person…”
Quinn suddenly saw the light, grinned knowingly. “So Your Majesty wants to reward me with palace maids? I’m always running around, so I don’t need attendants, but Granny Sue lives here, and she’s surrounded by demons and monsters—none of them are much to look at. If you could grant me a few palace maids to help manage the estate, I’d gladly accept! I think the two girls by the Dowager Empress’s side—Jenny and Queenie—are really quite nice: pretty, gentle, thoughtful…”
Emperor Evan was furious. He flopped back in the steamer basket, stiff as a board. “Out!”
“As you command.”
Quinn closed the lid of the steamer, muttering, “Just now he was acting all generous with rewards, but he won’t even spare two maids. Stingy old cheapskate…”