Nearly three months slipped by, and life, for once, moved forward without any life-threatening situations for Lin Fang.

The ruins of Zero Guild were no longer ruins.

Lin Fang never made a grand announcement, nor did he hold any ceremony.

One day, the broken timbers and collapsed walls were simply cleared away by the construction workers. Then, soon, a new structure rose in the same location. It was not stone, nor steel, nor reinforced alloy like the grand guild halls favored by powerful factions. Instead, the building was wood, clean and sturdy, shaped more like a countryside residence than a hunter stronghold.

Two floors with a slanted roof and wide windows.

Anyone passing by would mistake it for a private home located in the middle of ruins.

And in a way, that was exactly what it was.

Despite carrying the name Zero Guild, the rebuilt branch had only three members.

Lin Fang.

Zhi Yan.

Nebula.

That was all.

Nebula, of course, was not even human. She was a monster companion, but publicly, using Zhi Yan’s influence and using the store business as a guarantee, Nebula somehow got registered in the national citizen database. Officially registered under Lin Fang’s household as his adoptive sister. She didn’t hold any license but it doesn’t matter. She is an official member of the guild.

Lin Fang dealt with funding, permissions, and dungeon rights. No recruitment notices were posted. No invitations were sent.

To the outside world, Zero Guild looked dead.

And Lin Fang was perfectly fine with that.

More than two and a half months earlier, he had already sent formal termination notices to every former member associated with the Huaxi City branch. The emails were short, blunt, and emotionless. No funds. No building. No operational capacity. Contracts dissolved. Compensation was settled where applicable.

There were no arguments. No protests.

Most of them had already moved on, as without Li Chengfeng, the Zero Guild has no value to them either.

Only after that did Lin Fang accept assistance from the main branch to rebuild the wooden residence. A place that allowed him to purchase dungeon rights, shield the Spirit Valley, and exist under the protection of association law.

It was like a shell company, but not at the same time.

While the guild remained quiet, Lin Fang’s business did the opposite.

It exploded.

The moment his A-rank Hunter Certification was framed and mounted behind the reception counter, everything changed. Trust came faster than sound. Deals closed quicker than light. Hunters and businessmen who once hesitated now queued in lines to make bulk orders for their businesses.

With Zhi Yan’s consent, Lin Fang officially promoted Shang Wei to act as a brokering partner across other cities and even overseas, where he takes 20% of the cut. Shang Wei handled negotiations, logistics chains, and distribution networks, freeing Lin Fang from daily operational burdens. The store stopped feeling like a niche shop and started behaving like a brand.

And the biggest change?

Direwolf eggs were no longer the centerpiece.

Lin Fang deliberately restricted them to ten per week. No exceptions.

Instead, the real profit came from something else.

Troodon eggs.

Compared to other theropod dinosaurs, Troodons had an appearance that Lin Fang found… acceptable. Less monstrous. Sleeker. Intelligent-looking with feathers. Their large eyes and smaller frames made them far easier to sell to families, collectors, and mid-tier hunters who wanted something unique without the intimidation factor of larger carnivores.

Even better, Troodon’s maturity time is only two and a half years, of course, provided that no special elixirs were fed. It also didn’t have any maintenance, and as an omnivore, it could have both a meat and plant-based diet. Even better, it could even digest wild plants and even weeds. Hence, the food cost is quite lower than a typical medium-range monster.

Sales skyrocketed naturally with promotions of this never-seen beast that seemed like a feathered reptile.

The Troodon line became Lin Fang’s quiet masterpiece over time, overtaking Jade Spirit Elixirs.

Originally, Troodons could accept Epic-grade spirit cores during creation and have King Tier potential. However, as a businessman, rather than creating Epic-grade Troodons with terrifying potential and selling them for outrageous prices, which would have been foolish as Epic cores were rare and expensive, and monsters born from them would need to be priced at half a million credits or more, Lin Fang took a different route.

He used disintegration.

One Epic-grade core became ten Rare-grade cores.

Those ten Rare-grade cores became ten Troodons, each with Lord-tier potential, stable growth, and manageable upkeep. Instead of one overpriced monster that would scare buyers away, he sold ten highly attractive products at 100,000 credits each.

The math spoke for itself.

Customers were happy. Supply stayed steady. Profit multiplied.

At the same time, the Jade Spirit Elixir continued to maintain its sales. Its healing properties were simply too good. No lab could replicate it, no alchemist could reverse-engineer it, and so, guilds queued in lines to purchase them in bulk amounts.

The Blood Coagulation Pill, however, flopped.

Only one or two buyers showed interest in the first month. Compared to the Jade Spirit Elixir, it felt mundane. Lin Fang watched the numbers, waited patiently, then removed it from sale entirely. There was no point cluttering the shelves with something people didn’t want.

Money was no longer his problem anyway.

During this time, Lin Fang also discovered a hidden capability of the Nursery Pen.

It could house monsters that were not bound to him.

The realization hit him like a lightning bolt. Training services. Growth acceleration. Temporary custody. The potential business models spiraled instantly in his mind. If he offered monster training to outside hunters, the profits could rival or even surpass egg sales.

But reality intervened.

The store was no longer his alone.

Zhi Yan and Li Liu worked there every day after all. There was no believable explanation for why unrelated monsters would suddenly disappear into an unseen space and reappear stronger days later. His excuse about having a “mindscape” only worked because it applied to his own companions. Other people’s monsters were different.

So Lin Fang shelved the idea without hesitation. Some opportunities were simply not worth the risk.

The same logic applies to Growth Potions. He could have released them into the market and earned obscene profits, but he didn’t. The store was already doing exceptionally well. Introducing something that powerful would only draw unwanted attention from the Association, research institutions, and worse.

He kept the Growth Potions for himself.

Then came the second phase of the Troodon plan.

Lin Fang introduced custom orders.

Customers could buy standard Troodon eggs directly from the shelves, choosing from available elements at fixed prices. Or they could place a deposit, select an element of their preference, and wait one week for a custom Troodon egg to be prepared.

Custom orders cost more.

Much more.

And yet, people lined up anyway.

Finally, Lin Fang unveiled the most dangerous product of all.

Adult Troodons.

Fully matured, levels ranging from forty to forty-nine. Rare-grade elemental cores, most commonly fire, lightning, or darkness. Only five per week were made available.

Each one sold for two to three million credits based on the type of core used.

However, these were not displayed openly to the public, though.

Shang Wei personally vetted potential buyers and brought them in discreetly.

With Zhi Yan’s help, Lin Fang suppressed the adult Troodons using beast-suppressing collars, the same type Myra had once used during the trials. The collars were not included in the base price. Anyone who wanted one had to pay an additional 700,000 credits.

So far, no one refused.

Every buyer chose safety.

Every single one.

Lin Fang never forced the sale. He made it clear. Once the monster left the store, responsibility belonged entirely to the buyer. No refunds. No rescues. No guarantees.

The profits stacked up quietly.

Fang Fang Store also continued to operate steadily as a partnered branch of Golden Trail & Co., the company owned by Li Xue’s parents. On paper, everything looked normal. Supply contracts were honored, logistics moved smoothly, and profits were split cleanly.

Yet despite the shared business ties, Lin Fang had not met Li Xue even once during these three months, nor had he crossed paths with Li Chengfeng. It was as if the connection existed only in name. Lin Fang did not push the matter either. If fate wanted them to meet again, it would happen naturally.

Financially, his growth was staggering.

By the end of the third month, Lin Fang’s personal net worth had surpassed 330 million credits, and that figure did not even include his hidden assets. In the system alone, he still held over 4.1 million system coins, untouched and quietly accumulating value. Money had ceased to be something he worried about, as he had months ago.

Strangely enough, despite all that wealth, Lin Fang’s personal cultivation path barely expanded outward.

For three straight months, he used the system for only one thing.

Every night, after the store closed and the city lights dimmed, Lin Fang would lie down to sleep. His body rested, but his consciousness never truly did. Instead, it slipped into the Training Grounds, returning again and again to the Cragstone Expanse. He mined elemental crystals endlessly, his routine almost mechanical. Swing the mana pickaxe. Collect crystals. Refine. Repeat.

Those crystals all went into one place.

The Twin Daggers.

Regardless of how steep the elemental energy requirement became for each upgrade, Lin Fang persisted. He didn’t rush. He didn’t complain. He simply kept going. By the end of the three months, the daggers had reached Level 9, their power far surpassing what they once were. Each strike carried sharper elemental resonance, deeper penetration, and terrifying lethality.

Beyond that, Lin Fang explored nothing else.

The Beast Tower remained untouched.

The Beast World remained unopened.

It wasn’t fear that held him back. It was discipline. He chose focus over curiosity, refinement over expansion.

As for Myra and the Shadow Guild, they vanished completely from his life. No ambushes. No assassins. No warnings. The absence itself was unsettling at first, but as days turned into weeks, Lin Fang gradually relaxed. Whatever storm she represented had either passed or was gathering far beyond his horizon.

His personal life, however, flourished quietly.

Lin Fang and Li Liu settled into something warm and ordinary. They went on dates without looking over their shoulders. They cooked together, argued over trivial things, made up easily, and shared nights without urgency or fear. Sometimes they slept together, sometimes they didn’t. There was no pressure, only comfort.

And yet, Lin Fang found himself thinking further ahead.

He wanted to propose.

The thought came more than once, usually in quiet moments when Li Liu leaned against him without saying a word. But every time, hesitation followed. Their relationship was still young. They were young. Twenty-four and twenty-two. He feared rushing something precious and feared rejection even more.

So he waited.

At least, for now.

Meanwhile, the Nursery Pens worked tirelessly.

Xuan Hei grew the fastest, reaching Level 45, her aura now sharp enough to intimidate even veteran hunters.

Nyx followed closely behind, sitting at Level 49, just a step away from fifty and needing only a few more days to cross that threshold and become a King Tier monster.

Stripey reached Level 44, the peak of its growth, while Tempest capped at Level 40, fully matured.

Cloud the Smilodon and Jelly the Spirit Jellyfish had long since reached their limits at Level 30.

Only Nebula lagged behind at Level 36.

With three Velociraptors at Level 30 and beyond, and a lineup of powerful companions at his side, Lin Fang’s strength had crossed into dangerous territory.

He could now solo an entire dungeon.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep