The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 4724 X Royal Newcomer (3)

Chapter 4724 X Royal Family: New Life (Part 3)

Quicksilver walked in carrying several bags. After placing the food on the table, he smiled and nodded to them, saying, "Enjoy your meal, gentlemen. Please feel free to call me if you have any questions."

“Wait a minute,” Schiller called out to him, “aren’t you going to introduce the dishes?”

Quicksilver tilted his head, but stayed anyway. Once he opened the package, Schiller understood Quicksilver's confusion. The takeout was full of fast food, and it looked like frozen pre-made meals. Like frozen fried chicken wings, re-fried to become a dish.

"Is this all?" Schiller asked.

Quicksilver was a little embarrassed. He scratched his head and said, "It's not very convenient to transport supplies from outside. Frozen food can be stored for a longer time. Of course, we know it's not good to feed this to our guests. If you're not in a hurry, I can go to the mainland and buy some for you."

"Don't you have any fresh meat and vegetables?" Peter asked, somewhat puzzled.

Quicksilver shook his head and said, "No, we buy everything from outside. It's all delivered to the island by Hellfire Group's cargo ships. The situation in Krakia wasn't good before, and there weren't many places willing to sell us anything, which resulted in a lack of fresh food. Things might get better later."

"Can't you grow your own?" Schiller asked, looking up. "I saw a flat piece of land on the east side of the island. Can't you use it to grow vegetables?"

Quicksilver seemed stumped by the question, as if growing his own vegetables was simply not in his mind. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no one could guess what he meant.

In the areas where these mutants previously lived, growing vegetables was mostly prohibited. Not only in the West, but even in the East, not everyone had land. Few people had yards, and the vast majority of mutants here had never personally grown anything.

Moreover, they faced too many problems after arriving here. They had to build houses and deal with external crises. Everyone knew it was a difficult time, and they were lucky if they could get enough food. They didn't have any higher demands.

“If that’s the case, we could indeed grow something,” Quicksilver said after thinking for a moment. “But we’re not really good at it. The only plant I’ve ever grown was a cactus, and it died because I overwatered it. Little Rascal seems to love gardening, so maybe I should ask her?”

“It’s not the same thing at all,” Schiller sighed. “Never mind, I’ll go check on that plot of land tomorrow. Let’s start with potatoes.”

"By the way," he added, "can we fish in the lake?"

Matt asked him in a low voice, "Isn't it said to be a protected animal?"

"Protecting animals is what I'm asked to do."

"You want to eat fish?" Quicksilver thought for a moment and said, "We can fish, but are you sure you can beat them if you catch one?"

Schiller sent him a question mark emoji. Quicksilver shrugged and said, "There are many amazing creatures on this island. Most of the harmful land creatures have been driven away, but not the ones in the lake. If you're going fishing, remember to bring your weapons."

Matt rubbed his forehead in exasperation. Most of the fish that can be caught have little meat and many bones; the amount of fish meat he could eat probably wouldn't even be enough to burn off the calories, so he could only taste it.

"Where's the fruit? Aren't there any fruit on the trees?" Steve asked. "I saw some bushes that looked like raspberries when I came over. Did you try picking any?"

“We’ve been a bit busy lately,” Quicksilver said somewhat awkwardly. “I’ll go find someone to try tomorrow.”

"It's alright, you guys go about your business." Stark, who had just arrived, waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, we've got nothing else to do, so we'll just give it a try."

“That’s fine,” Quicksilver said. “Because of what happened outside, construction on the island has almost stopped. This can’t go on forever. We need to find a way to be self-sufficient here.”

“Everything is difficult at the beginning,” Steve said, “but once we get through this hurdle, everything will be alright.”

After Quicksilver left, the group began to eat. They weren't too bothered by the fast food; it was just a way to fill their stomachs. However, the drinks were truly nauseating. Aside from the lack of ice, every single one was unpalatable. The beer was watery, the whiskey was harsh and pungent, and the liqueur tasted like artificial flavoring. It wasn't that they were picky; Matt and Peter usually bought the most basic convenience store drinks themselves, and they had no idea where these mutants got so many terrible-tasting liquors.

Unable to drink, and unable to sleep through the long night, I could only slump on the sofa in the living room and chat.

"You just called him a mutant?" Charles voiced his doubts first. He was referring to when Strange called Schiller "Mr. Mutant."

"Didn't you know? He listed himself as a mutant in the Star Council's employee roster to explain his seemingly mind-reading superpowers." Strange rolled his eyes.

Charles shifted slightly on the sofa, sat up a little, and said, "But his race registered in the Andromeda Galaxy is magicians."

The two looked at Schiller. Schiller coughed twice and then said, "When you're traveling, you have to choose your own identity. The main problem is that when I said I was a magician in the Interstellar Council and a mutant in the Andromeda Galaxy, you didn't agree."

Both of them rolled their eyes and turned their heads away. Schiller then waved his hand dismissively and said, "Alright, alright, to be honest, I've been bitten by a spider."

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at him: "Doctor, if you're going to make this up, at least put some effort into it. Spider-Man doesn't have mind-reading abilities."

"Isn't spider-sense similar?"

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, “the Spider-Legion has now established a sophisticated identity registration system, and I’m the only Spider-Man registered in the central universe. You probably can’t get in, Doctor. Unless…”

"unless?"

"I brought a spider. Do you want it to bite you?"

Now it was Schiller's turn to widen his eyes: "You carry the spider that bit you with you all the time?!"

“Of course it wasn’t the one that bit me. It was actually a little pet used for communication by the Spider Legion.” After saying that, Schiller watched as Peter pulled out an orange Babbitt tarantula the size of an adult’s palm from somewhere.

"It's fluffy and cute, isn't it?"

Schiller glanced at the two foremost chelicerae of the tarantula, swallowed hard, and turned to Matt: "Where did you learn your martial arts?"

Steve lay on the sofa, propping his head up with his hand, and said with a laugh, "I still remember the address of the lab that injected me with the serum back then. I'll send it to you later. You can go and see if you can still make it."

Everyone burst into laughter. Stark, however, stepped forward: "Mind reading? That's just a scientific theory in psychology. Ignore them, Schiller, science is always open to you."

“Sorry, I’m not going in.” Schiller rolled his eyes and said, “If I were willing to admit that my skills are a science that can be passed down and learned, I’d probably have to stay in my office forever doing research and producing results.”

“Speaking of which,” Stark rolled over on the sofa, “I saw a lot of construction going on across the bay. What are they doing?”

“Of course, it’s about building a port,” Schiller said. “They want to build a large deep-water port for the convenience of logistics and to enhance Krakia’s international standing.”

Stark rolled back and put his arm around his head: "But that place isn't very good. Although everyone thinks that kind of bay is the best place to build a port, that's not actually the case. The other side with the cliffs is actually better."

"Maybe they have their own reasons," Steve said, fiddling with a beer can. "Besides, we've already started work, it's too late to say anything now, isn't it?"

“I’ll remind them,” Stark said. “It’s not hard for mutants to build things, and it’s not too late to fix it now.”

“I feel like you just want to find yourself a job,” Schiller said.

Stark looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought: "That's true. Since I got Morgan, I haven't spent much time in the lab. Sometimes I really miss the days when I worked day and night."

“You’re crazy,” Matt commented succinctly and objectively.

Stark didn't move his head, but turned his eyes to look at him. Matt's resentment as a working-class man almost materialized, and he picked up a tissue box from the side and threw it at Stark.

"Who would miss the days of working day and night? If someone does, they're probably really crazy."

“Schiller will definitely support me.” Stark then looked at Schiller.

Schiller nodded and said, "When you work purely out of passion, of course you'll miss it. Seriously, Matt, do you really have to be so obsessed with being a lawyer?"

Matt sighed deeply. Strange, however, spoke up to defend him: "Don't you dare suggest he change careers. Everyone knows Murdoch is now humanity's top lawyer. We've won so many battles at the Galactic Court thanks to Matt."

"Really?" Steve asked curiously. "The legal disputes in interstellar society must be much more difficult to handle, right? Can you really win every single one of them?"

"Of course. No one is as good at fighting as he is at handling lawsuits, no one who is good at fighting is as good at shooting as him, no one who is good at shooting is as good as him in terms of background, and no one with a stronger background is as good at fighting as me."

Everyone immediately exclaimed, "I knew it!"

“Speaking of which,” Steve frowned and took a swig of beer, “on my last trip before my vacation, someone cut in line when we were going through the Libra Kree Empire portal. His main gun scratched the headlights of our starship. We were in a hurry, so we didn’t bother him. Can we win a lawsuit?”

“Which headlight? The main searchlight at the front, or the marker light below?” Stark asked.

"The main headlights on the front side are damaged. Not only is the outer shell scratched, but the laser generator inside is also malfunctioning and hasn't lit up yet. However, due to the shortage of starships, there isn't enough time to send them back to the factory for maintenance, so we can only make do with them."

"That's ridiculous! The searchlight's broken, how can you even drive it?" Stark gulped down a beer, wiped his mouth, and said, "What are you going to do if you drive into the Dark Starfield one day?"

“A human navigation system, huh?” Steve said nonchalantly. “What else do you think a navigator is for? I’ve gone off to scout ahead countless times. And we still have the main beam, right? It’s fine.”

“I have a question,” Peter said, raising his hand. “How could his main gun scrape your headlights? What kind of position is that?”

“We were originally lined up in two rows at the portal entrance,” Steve said, clearly furious. “He insisted on squeezing into the right row from the left. Unfortunately, the ship in front of me was an inverted triangle, which gave him a gap, and he just forced his way in. This caused the gravity on the right side to become unbalanced, and the whole ship flipped over. The main cannon in front smashed the lamp housing to pieces.”

“He can fight.” Matt was quite resentful, but he still spoke the truth. “He clearly changed course illegally. Moreover, interstellar traffic laws stipulate that the ship that first loses gravitational balance bears the main responsibility. Making him pay two or three hundred thousand universal coins shouldn’t be a problem.”

"They can pay that much?" Steve was a little surprised.

"He can't pay that much, but he also has to pay for the inverted triangle spaceship in front. Its shape and structure are not suitable for large-scale teleportation portals of level two or above, so it's considered an illegal crossing. It caused a traffic accident, so he also has to bear responsibility. The two together will probably amount to that much."

“Not even an inverted triangle?” Peter asked. “Maybe they like that shape.”

“Who would like an inverted triangle spaceship?” Stark muttered. “A space ray?”

“Space rays fly on their own,” Steve said. “I’ve seen them over in the Antalli Nebula; they don’t need spaceships. And they obey traffic rules better than most people…most fish…”

The increasingly whimsical ramblings faded into the night of Krakya. The gently swaying treetops disturbed the tranquil moonlight. A sudden gust of wind arose in the night, stirring up a storm on the boundless sea, yet the island remained unmoved, letting the rain add a few more damp, dreamlike lullabies to its slumber. At dawn, I slept amidst the misty, verdant mountains bathed in the rain.