The blue-haired girl in the distance saw this and shook her head speechlessly. “How many times has this happened now... Is she a brocon or something... Every time something like this happens, she just flies into a rage... Little Grace, go keep an eye on things so nothing goes wrong. Grace Carter is currently our department’s best hope for winning a prize in the big competition. Don’t let her hit anyone too hard, or it might affect her eligibility.”

The petite red-haired girl beside her nodded and, without a word, quickly jogged out the door to follow.

The rest of the club members were used to this and just continued practicing as usual. Only a few people shook their heads and smiled. At home, she acted like a well-behaved, sensible child in front of her elders, but in front of strangers, she was a violent terror. Grace Carter’s personality was already well known among the club veterans.

※ ※ ※ ※

The sky was a clear, pale blue, with only a few wispy clouds hanging at the edges like lines.

George Miller sat on a white stone, slowly turning a skewer of grilled lean meat in his hand. The spicy, numbing aroma wafted out as the flames roasted it, and tiny golden bubbles of oil popped up on the surface of the meat.

He set the skewer down on the rack and glanced at the others. They were all busy frantically sprinkling seasoning on their own meat, too preoccupied to pay attention to him. He got up and walked to the lakeshore behind them, crouched down, scooped up a handful of water, and splashed it on his face, quickly washing away the smoke and soot.

The icy lake water on his face instantly jolted his spirits.

He turned to look—the girls had already walked far away, standing together on a riverbank, spreading out a clean white cloth and laying out various food ingredients.

He let out a breath. “In the blink of an eye, I’ve been in this world for so many days already...” He glanced at the stats at the bottom of his vision.

Agility and constitution had each increased by 0.01—results of his physical training these past days. Potential, however, was still at 89%.

“Still 11% to go. Now it depends on whether Franklin Reed’s jewel works. If it doesn’t, I’ll have to find another way... There are just too few jewels with potential. That black pearl the etiquette teacher showed the other day—who knows where it came from, but it could absorb a full percentage of potential in one go.”

A chilly breeze blew by, making George Miller shiver and feel cold, so he got up and returned to the campfire.

“If you follow the river to the right, you’ll reach the paper mill in the suburbs. My uncle works there—want to go for a tour?” Charles Parker pointed to the river on the right side of the lake.

“What’s so interesting about a paper mill...” Franklin Reed was about to say more when suddenly a scream came from the distance. It sounded like the girls had been startled by something, their voices drifting over from afar.

The group quickly stood up and looked over. Of the three girls, two had already fallen to the ground and were scrambling backward, while another had run far off to the side, not daring to approach. Florence Reed was one of those who had fallen.

“Something’s wrong, let’s go check it out!” George Miller was the first to react, and the boys quickly dropped their skewers and rushed over.

On the dark yellow riverbank, among the scattered stones, a small black-purple snake had raised its head high, flicking its red tongue and hissing. Two girls had fallen to the ground, shrinking back in terror, and one of them had a dark red bite mark on her calf.

6 Establish Subject Item

“It’s a Pannaga snake—a highly venomous amphibious snake! Hurry, get the poison out!!” George Miller immediately recognized the snake. He hadn’t spent his time in this world in vain; he’d memorized most of the common knowledge here, and as a child in the countryside, George Miller had encountered this kind of snake before, so he recognized it right away.

As he spoke, George Miller kicked a pebble.

Pa!

The stone landed next to the snake, scaring it into the water, where it quickly swam away and disappeared into the lake, leaving only a faint ripple.

“How do we get the poison out?!” Franklin Reed’s cousin Anna Carter, the only girl who hadn’t been bitten, was on the verge of tears as she spoke.

“First wash it with water, then chew up some poplar leaves and apply them!” George Miller shouted.

At this point, everyone was a bit flustered, but his calmness as an adult immediately stood out. He directed the boys to find poplar leaves and the girls to clean the wound and squeeze out some of the poisoned blood. The treatment was quickly finished. The bitten girl looked like she was about to cry, but managed to hold it in.

Florence Reed stood up, tidied her slightly messy hair and skirt, and looked at the calmly commanding George Miller with a hint of surprise in her eyes. “I’ll remember your help for my friend this time,” she said calmly, carefully supporting her companion.

“It was just a small matter.” George Miller shrugged. With the mentality of someone in their fifties, he naturally wouldn’t take this to heart. “Of course, if you really want to thank me, I enjoy admiring ancient jewelry. If you have any, I’d love to take a look...”

His gaze subtly fell on the blue-black leather cord around Florence Reed’s white neck.

Just now, when he’d gotten close, the potential percentage at the bottom of his vision had jumped again—this time by two points at once, from 89% to 92%. This confirmed for him that Florence Reed definitely had a potential jewel on her, and it was probably of a much higher grade than the black pearl.