Chapter 137: Chinese Cultural Exhibition

After passing through the Everdark Plains, we arrived in Beijing, the capital of China, where a cultural exhibition happened to be taking place.

It was an exhibition looking back on Chinese culture in the New Era (from the Gremlin Disaster onward). Among the older items on display was the final newspaper published on the very day the Gremlin Disaster occurred. Among the newest was the “Magic Power Cannon (Mó Lì Pào)” recently developed by the Busen Group.

The Busen Group’s Magic Power Cannon… that has to be something they made by analyzing the Kinka Gyokujō, right? I’m extremely interested.

It’s been six months since I sold that staff—just how far has China’s top corporation gotten?

Let’s take a look.

But when the two of us arrived at the exhibition venue, there was strangely no sign of people. That would’ve been nice, except there was a sign at the entrance reading “Strike,” and the place was sealed off.

Hiyori sighed in disappointment.

“Ah… of all the times.”

“What does that even say? I can’t read it. ‘Workers’? ‘Completion’?”

“It says ‘strike.’”

“You’ve gotta be kidding…”

The pamphlet at the station said the exhibition was ongoing. That’s a lie! What happened to proper communication?

If they’re going on strike, fine—but at least make it clear. What a wasted trip.

“Well, can’t be helped. Stuff like this happens. A cultural exhibition date isn’t exactly popular anyway. Rather than going somewhere only I’d enjoy, we should go somewhere we can both have fun.”

“…Wait. There’s a way.”

As I patted Hiyori’s shoulder and turned to leave, she said that as if she had a plan.

Curious, I followed her around to the back entrance of the building. She sent her eyeball familiar to the address listed on the notice.

Within about ten minutes, a sweating middle-aged man came sprinting over at full speed, and some kind of negotiation began.

In the end, they shook hands. The man unlocked the back door with a smile and left.

Hiyori opened the door and took my hand, leading me inside.

“Alright, let’s go in, Dairi. It’s reserved.”

“Hey, what did you do? I heard something about deals and backing?”

“I called the strike representative and told him I’d put in a word with the organizers about a wage increase—so in exchange, I asked to have the place to ourselves for today.”

“That’s… powerful.”

As expected of the Okutama Negotiations Minister—she really operates on a different level. Using her reputation and position like that… I couldn’t imitate it. The idea wouldn’t even occur to me.

“Hiyori, it’s hard to walk. Don’t cling to me.”

“Why not? It’s a date.”

“Huh? If you want to be that close, want a piggyback ride? Or I could carry you on my shoulders?”

“…Listen carefully. What Mokutan likes and what I like are different. Remember that.”

I didn’t really get it, but she let go of my arm and stepped away, looking annoyed.

She wants to be close, but gets upset when I suggest getting closer…? Makes no sense. Women are incomprehensible. Honestly, about as complicated as the Demon King Gremlin.

Despite the confusion, the cultural exhibition date was successfully underway, and I fully enjoyed China’s cultural history after the Gremlin Disaster.

The exhibits were arranged chronologically from past to present, many protected by reinforced glass and iron fences.

As expected of a country with a thriving gremlin (magical beast) industry, many exhibits were related to that.

A supposedly world’s oldest red-eyed beast Carbuncle taxidermy.

A drinking vessel exclusively for gremlin-made magic liquor “Nectal.”

A coat made from monster leather worn by an emperor of a small nation later absorbed into modern China.

But what caught my eye the most was a magic crystal painting by Zhang Limo.

According to the description Hiyori read aloud, Zhang Limo (2001–2099) was one of the leading magic crystal painters of the 21st century.

Magic crystal paintings are made using powdered, colored gremlins as paint.

It’s not particularly special aside from the unusual materials—but Zhang Limo’s works are on another level.

Her early works were ordinary, but starting in 2028, her talent suddenly blossomed. Her paintings began to carry a mysterious allure that captivates viewers.

The exhibited piece, “Gluttonous Hellscape (Taotie Hell Illustration),” is especially famous. Her grandson agreed to lend it to the exhibition at the strong request of the President.

I was overwhelmed by the grotesque depiction of the atrocities of the Class-A monster Taotie, which once devastated China—and I froze at the familiar sense of being drawn in.

“…Hey. This uses magic stones, doesn’t it?”

“I thought so too, but something’s different. It doesn’t use magic stones. But it doesn’t seem like ordinary gremlins either.”

The strange luster—the aura coming from the painting—felt very similar to magic stones.

I thought maybe she had done the outrageous thing of grinding up magic stones into paint, but Hiyori shook her head.

“She made over a thousand paintings like this. If she used magic stones, she’d go bankrupt—and there wouldn’t even be that many available.”

“Huh…? Then how did she create this… atmosphere?”

“No idea. Whether it’s the materials or the technique. She died, and the mystery died with her.”

“Man… I wish she hadn’t done something this interesting while I was dead. I mean, it’s beautiful, sure—but still.”

“Yeah. It’s terrifying—and beautiful.”

We stood there for a while, entranced by her framed painting.

Magic stones have a mysterious brilliance you can stare at for hours. The fact that the only artist who could replicate that allure has passed away is truly a loss.

There were seven of Zhang Limo’s works displayed, and we took our time with each one.

When we reached the final painting, Hiyori groaned.

The title was “Lan Xian.”

And the subject was none other than the Blue Witch herself.

Whoa—this is the most interesting piece in the whole exhibition.

So, Blue Witch—care to comment?

“That’s you. Famous person~”

“Th-that’s embarrassing. Don’t look too much.”

“Eh, it’s not very good anyway. Pretty ugly.”

“….”

When I gave my honest opinion, Hiyori’s embarrassed expression vanished, replaced with a blank stare.

What? Did she want me to say she looked beautiful? Why lie?

It’s objectively ugly. Anyone with decent taste would agree.

“It doesn’t compare to your real beauty. It’s poorly done.”

“Gah…!”

Hiyori clutched her chest and collapsed on the spot.

There she goes again, acting weird. Seriously unstable. Can someone this sensitive even handle a cultural exhibition?

“You… you really are like this. Because everything you say is genuine, it hits a hundred times harder than flattery.”

“Huh? That’s a good thing. You learned as a kid that lying is bad, right?”

I simply practice what everyone knows—honesty. That’s what responsible adults do.

Since pushing the topic further might cause another breakdown, I waited for her to recover before moving on.

Following the route, the Magic Power Cannon was the final exhibit.

As expected, it was presented as cutting-edge Busen Group technology, with lots of hype about “building the future.”

Visually, it looked like a cannon. You stick your arm into the back of the thick barrel to charge it with magic, and it fires a black beam. It looked like a downgraded version of the Kinka Gyokujō.

“As expected, they made it unnecessarily large. At this size, it exceeds optimal volume, so magic efficiency should drop significantly. Still, reproducing a degraded version in six months is decent…”

“It also briefly mentions cooperation from Technician 0933.”

“…Wait. Technician?”

That’s not something I can ignore.

What the hell? Translation error? I’m a magic staff craftsman.

When I glared, Hiyori shrugged.

“Well, you haven’t exactly been making new staffs lately.”

“N-no, that’s not true…”

Thinking about it, I felt a bit uneasy. So I counted the staffs I’d made since coming back to life.

Excluding upgrades to Kyanos…

A spiral staff that converts magic power into physical enhancement.

And the Kinka Gyokujō I auctioned off…

…

Wait.

Only two!?

That’s way too few!

Between modifying Kyanos, developing Iatros Glass, and messing around with dimensional functions, I’d only made two new staffs in over a year.

This is serious. Even for high-end, low-volume production, two per year is too few.

No wonder they think I’m a technician instead of a craftsman. Damn it.

“Sorry, Hiyori. I know we’re traveling, but I need to work. My identity as a magic staff craftsman is at risk.”

“Are you serious? If we keep going back to Japan, we’ll never reach the Kingdom of Lucy.”

“I can work while traveling. I brought my tools.”

I don’t use large machinery—just portable tools. I don’t need my workshop.

Materials are the issue, though. China has plenty of gremlins, so that’s fine.

The problem is wood. Without Fuyou, I can’t get high-quality material. I don’t want to settle for mediocre wood.

“Wait. The Flower Witch clans exist worldwide, right? There should be one around here. If I get their help, I can gather materials while traveling!”

“…Are you trying to pick up another girl? No.”

“What are you even talking about?”

Hiyori hesitated, but after some convincing, she told me the location of a Flower Witch clan in China.

Luckily, it was along our route.

The clan, rooted in the fertile lands of the Yangtze River basin, is called Kinrenka.

A daughter of the Flower Witch, Fuyou’s younger sister—and the long-time guardian protecting the great city of Wuhan from monster attacks.

Kinrenka! It’s me—your sister’s friend… ally… pretty-close neighbor! Help me make a staff!