Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 37: Brother Chicken’s Hard Labor
“You want the alchemy blueprint for the Beggar Chicken Furnace? Talk about buying it—what nonsense! That thing doesn’t require any real skill. Here, I’ll just give it to you.” Weber flipped his hand, and the blueprint materialized effortlessly in his palm. Without a second thought, he even used it to wipe the greasy stains from his hands.
“Old Deng! Don’t use precious alchemy blueprints as a handkerchief! Watch yourself!” Merlin snatched the paper from him in a flash. With this blueprint, he could find a senior in the alchemy department to craft more furnaces. His grand plan to conquer the academy with his lotus leaf-wrapped Beggar Chicken would advance much faster now.
Weber didn’t care in the slightest. He was gnawing on his lotus leaf chicken, a trace of regret in his voice. “Ah… ordinary chickens just don’t compare. The lotus leaf Beggar Chicken made from these farm birds? The flavor can’t hold a candle to the Red Crest White Feather Chicken. The difference is staggering—heaven and earth apart.”
“Is it really that exaggerated?” Jones paused mid-bite, staring in astonishment.
“You’ve never tasted anything truly good, you old fool. What could you possibly understand? A lotus leaf Beggar Chicken from a Red Crest White Feather Chicken—ten times better in taste than anything in your hands.” Weber sneered.
Jones chewed through his piece of chicken, stood, and gazed longingly at the Red Crest White Feather Chickens leisurely wandering in the distance. “Weber… you know, I think your suggestion might actually work.”
“You weren’t the one who said you’d rather jump off the Mage Tower and die than do something so… unsavory?”
Jones chuckled, a gleam in his eyes. “Tastes too good to resist!”
In the Mage Tower’s back garden, Weber held a vial of a potion designed for breeding old sows, carefully tipping it into the throats of the Red Crest White Feather Chickens.
The few chickens whose necks were grasped flapped their wings frantically, squawking in alarm: cluck-cluck-cluck!
“Merlin, young friend, there’s another one over here!”
Jones carried a hen over, and without hesitation, Merlin pried open its beak and poured the potion in.
Cluck-cluck-cluck!
The Red Crest White Feather Chickens, now under the potion’s effect, became extraordinarily agitated. Their eyes glowed a fierce red; the once-docile beasts transformed into little engines of primal aggression.
The potion worked fast—it was meant for breeding pigs, after all. One male Red Crest White Feather Chicken let out a piercing call, charging at a female and immediately mounting her, flapping its wings with wild abandon.
Thrust-thrust-thrust!
The male exerted himself relentlessly, driven purely by instinct, his mind empty of anything else.
But the chickens were fragile creatures. Before long, the female nearly collapsed, and the male was on the brink of exhaustion as well.
Merlin glanced at the timer. Less than three minutes, and disaster was imminent.
“Heal!”
A half-god’s casual use of a healing spell—enough to revive corpses—brought the chickens back to full health instantly. They resumed their primal frenzy without pause.
“No… the Red Crest White Feather Chickens are going to die again!”
“Heal!”
“Not enough!”
“Heal!”
“Unbelievable, Old Deng! These chickens are too fragile! That one’s dead already! And that one—so fierce!”
“Don’t worry, leave it to me.” Jones pointed at a fallen chicken.
“Rise again! My beloved chicken!!!”
Even death couldn’t stop them. Merlin was shocked—what level of divine magic did Weber wield? Resurrection! A spell of this magnitude was something he had only heard about in legends.
Fully revived, the Red Crest White Feather Chickens resumed their primal mating frenzy.
“This is too much trouble.”
Jones waved his hand, pulling a staff from his spatial ring, and began casting amplification spells on the chickens.
“By the Holy Light, bathe in divine grace!”
“Blessing of Courage!”
“Gift of Protection!”
“Holy Light’s Guard! Blessing of Honor! Light of Revival! Steadfast Will! Bathe in Heavenly Radiance!”
Merlin stared, dumbfounded, at the chickens constantly buffed by the onslaught of spells. A radiant halo of holy light shone over each of them.
They couldn’t die. Simply couldn’t. The timer passed six minutes, doubling the duration.
The emboldened Red Crest White Feather Chickens went completely berserk, as if poised to transform into phoenixes, attacking with furious devotion.
After over ten minutes, Merlin watched the chickens collapse to the ground, utterly spent. And yet… their faces bore a strangely human-like expression of satisfaction.
“Is this really… working?” Weber asked, bewildered by the scene.
Jones shrugged, putting away his staff. “Wasn’t this your idea? Why ask me?”
“You two don’t look at me. I only suggested it. I think it should work, as long as there aren’t side effects,” Merlin said.
With that, Jones casually cast Purify on the chickens.
“Casting all these buffs at once is exhausting. Next time, you might as well open a domain and unleash the ‘Holy Light Descends: Hymn of Bathing Light of Hope.’ That spell can stack every single buff at once,” Weber winked at Jones.
“You’re insane! That’s an ultra-massive army buff spell! It requires four red-cardinal archbishops, twelve white-cardinal archbishops, and a choir of 128 people chanting and praying for three days and nights to cast perfectly. And you want to use it… for a few chickens?” Jones scowled at Weber.
“I didn’t say we’d use it now. When we have tens of thousands of Red Crest White Feather Chickens, then we can try it.” Weber grinned.
Merlin had no idea what level of magic this “Hymn of Bathing Light of Hope” was, but hearing the casting requirements, he knew it was no trivial feat. He assumed the two old men were just bragging. Old people loved showing off to the young—normal behavior.
Little did he know, Jones meant every word seriously. For half-gods who stood at the peak of the continent, having such power was for satisfying their own desires.
As for “maintaining world peace” or “protecting Aize Continent”? That was just a side effect. They had endured countless hardships and trials, not for honor or achievement—but for the thrill of growing stronger.
Even gods, if they find something fun, will pursue it no matter how absurd the process. And when they have the power to act, no one can stop them.