Chapter Seventy: The Chamber Pot Belongs to Us

Kevin had read about such situations many times in books, and among the countless volumes his father had left him, there were some works that defied description. He had even witnessed it firsthand; during his travels, he once saw several burly men dragging a village woman into the woods. In those small war-torn countries, there was hardly any law or order. Sometimes, not only the living but even corpses were not spared. With his meager strength, Kevin dared not interfere, nor did he linger to watch, for fear of being discovered. He hurried away.

Now, seeing it again, Kevin felt nothing but embarrassment. Though they were gorillas, their posture was almost human; it was impossible not to draw certain associations. Truthfully, Kevin wouldn’t have minded so much if he were alone, but the presence of the elderly scholar beside him was the main source of discomfort.

Kevin did his best to focus on the academic study, keeping his thoughts from drifting into less describable territories. Regardless, he still felt this trip had been worthwhile—for many reasons, which need not be explained here.

Compared to Kevin’s awkwardness, the professor was far more excited. This research was proceeding smoothly, and such opportunities were rare indeed. With his wealth of experience and age, the professor wouldn’t be affected emotionally by such matters.

After a while, the two gorillas rose and ambled away into the distance, never noticing Kevin and the professor. Further behind, two men from the Kingdom of Smithda remained in hiding. Unable to see the gorillas, they were puzzled by Kevin and the professor lying still for so long, but they patiently waited.

Judging by Kevin and the professor’s actions, their strength was unlikely to be formidable. Two sixth-level warriors, even unarmed, should be more than enough to handle them. Precisely because they felt confident, they were in no hurry. Observing Kevin and the professor, it seemed they were searching for something, prompting the Smithda men to wonder if these two had come to the Poison Forest in search of an artifact.

If so, attacking prematurely would prevent them from finding the artifact, which would be a great loss. Only by snatching it at the moment of discovery could their interests be maximized.

The two Smithda men were calm, seasoned elites from their homeland, working together for years with a strong mutual understanding, though their time in Laubole Country had been brief.

On the other side, Kevin and the professor waited until the gorillas had gone, then slowly retreated and found a tree to lean against. The professor sat up, took out pen and paper, his excitement undiminished. “I must draw a dynamic illustration of the gorillas’ mating!”

Kevin: “…”

Without another word, the professor began sketching rapidly, completely absorbed, the pencil flying across the page. Kevin watched in amazement, the professor’s simple strokes capturing lifelike detail, proving his reputation well deserved.

The drawing continued until dusk before he finally finished. It had all been done from memory; any delay would have blurred the recollection. As evening fell, the two returned to their camp to rest, never noticing the Smithda men nearby, who remained hidden.

In the camp, the professor, buoyed by his fruitful day, grew talkative. They chatted idly, and the professor recounted many amusing incidents from his research on gorillas. Once, a gorilla stole his cup, not to drink from it, but to urinate in it. The professor, not wanting the cup back after that, simply gave it to the gorilla.

Many believed animal research was useless, as skilled warriors could easily kill them with fighting spirit or magic. But in ancient times, people learned hunting and combat techniques from animals. Even now, some magical beasts behave much like their animal counterparts, though magical beasts are hard to find, and high-level ones rarer still. To the professor, studying animals was indirectly studying magical beasts, and even humans.

Sadly, most young people nowadays are obsessed with personal strength. Those who are willing to study these things are usually ones who’ve reached their limit in personal prowess. The professor could only shake his head in regret.

A night passed, and Kevin and the professor resumed their quest for gorillas, but luck did not favor them today. The day yielded nothing. For three more days, they found nothing.

The professor speculated that the gorillas had grown aware of them and were deliberately avoiding them. Nevertheless, they still had plenty of provisions, so they could keep searching until supplies ran low.

On the sixth day, Kevin and the professor finally made another discovery: near a spring in the woods, two gorillas were drinking. After a moment, one climbed onto a protruding rock and urinated vigorously below.

The rock was over a meter high, and the gorilla, standing atop it, managed to direct its stream precisely into a container below. The craftsmanship of the container was refined—clearly not made by a gorilla. The professor grew more convinced it was his lost cup.

A single cup couldn’t hold all the gorilla’s urine, so soon it splashed everywhere. The gorilla didn’t care, jumping down to join its companion. The two then began their indescribable activities once more.

Kevin was surprised—could it be mating season for gorillas? But this time, the professor was uninterested in their antics, focusing instead on the “chamber pot.”

The professor signaled to Kevin, and the two circled behind the gorillas and the rock. Unconcerned about the mess, the professor picked up the “chamber pot” and nodded: it was indeed his lost cup, though now cracked at the base and chipped at the rim. As a cup or chamber pot, it was worthless.

The professor fell into thought. He had once believed the gorilla urinated in his cup out of spite. But after all this time, the gorilla still kept up the habit? Why? Or was this area simply a gorilla latrine? Had gorillas begun to regulate their territory?

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept by, and the cup was snatched from the professor’s hand. A hooded figure appeared atop the rock, laughing in a strange accent of Laubole country: “Ha ha ha! This chamber pot is ours now!”

Everyone and everything paused for a moment. Kevin reacted swiftly, drawing his sword and shielding the professor. “Who are you?”

The two gorillas, startled, fled, crying out with a chorus of “oh-ho, oh-ho.”

“You don’t need to know who we are,” the stranger replied coldly, fiddling with the chamber pot. Despite its pungent odor, it had to be an artifact; otherwise, why would a vice principal come all this way to ponder a chamber pot?

“Tell me! How do you activate this chamber pot?” the masked man demanded.

Kevin and the professor exchanged glances, saying nothing.

Suddenly, a chill emanated from behind, and before they could react, blocks of ice flew at them. With a series of clangs, their hands and feet were frozen, chained with icy locks. Their limbs grew numb, Kevin’s sword slipped from his grasp.

A mid-level water spell—Frozen Shackles—thrown to automatically bind enemies, the chill seeping to the bone. Mainly used to restrict movement, prolonged exposure could cause injury or lasting effects.

Such magic was well beyond Kevin’s capacity to resist, and the caster was clearly adept. The speed of casting rivaled even Fireball, and the attack came from behind—a hopeless situation for Kevin.

“Mere words are not enough,” said the mage, stepping forward. “If necessary, we must show them we mean business.”

Kevin knew these two were far beyond his strength and could only repeat a useless phrase: “Who are you?”

Yet the professor remained calm, still gazing toward the retreating gorillas, muttering, “Their mating was interrupted. Do you think… will the male suffer impotence?”

Everyone: “…”

“Take them back to camp,” the masked man said, pushing Kevin along.

The two had no choice, trudging back to camp with their icy shackles. After prolonged wear, their limbs grew numb. Kevin, a young man, could barely endure it; the professor, an old man, was trembling violently. Kevin spoke up.

“Gentlemen, the professor is elderly and has no strength to escape. I hope you can show some mercy and remove his shackles.”

The two masked men exchanged glances and nodded. The mage waved his hand, releasing the professor. The professor exhaled deeply, relieved.

Kevin tried again: “Since you’ve shown mercy, perhaps you could extend it to me as well?”

“Shut up!” the mage snarled. “Keep talking and I’ll freeze your manhood—make it hard forever!”

Kevin, frightened, kept moving.

Back at the camp, Kevin and the professor stood outside, the mage supervising them. The other man rummaged inside the tent—though “camp” was a stretch, the tent was small, barely enough for sleeping.

“We have no money or valuables,” the professor said. “You’ll find nothing.”

The two men ignored him, continuing their search. Soon, they emerged with a stack of papers—the professor’s gorilla mating illustrations from yesterday.

“What is this?” one asked.

“Gorilla mating diagrams,” the professor replied.

“What use is it?” the man asked, puzzled.

“For research,” said the professor.

“Ha!” the man laughed. “Who needs to learn that? Anyone can do it!” With a careless tear, he shredded the papers, letting the fragments drift like snow.

The professor was furious. “You’re not censors—why destroy my dynamic illustrations?”

“Shut up, you old fool!” the mage barked. “Don’t you know you’re our prisoners now?”

“And you don’t know you’re in Laubole country,” Kevin interjected.

“So what?” the man sneered. “It’s remote here; even if you scream your lungs out, no one will come. Ha ha ha!”

Kevin sighed. “Professor, I regret I’m not a qualified bodyguard.”

The professor sighed as well. “Next time, we really ought to hire more mercenaries—at least one expert.”

“Hmph,” the man scoffed, “even if your mercenary captain came, he’d be no match for us.”

“You have no weapons,” Kevin pointed out.

“So what? We can kill you with magic bare-handed,” the mage retorted.

“Who says we don’t? I have an axe!” the other warrior laughed, then realized, “Your sword is mine now, ha ha ha!”

“Enough talk,” the mage said, “tell us what valuables you have.”

“We truly have nothing,” Kevin and the professor replied helplessly.

They searched again, finding nothing, so they brandished the chamber pot. “Tell us! What is this?”

The professor answered honestly, “It’s my old cup.”

“You lie!” The warrior unleashed his fighting spirit—yellow flames, sixth-level. Kevin was no match.

But more astonishing, the cup in the warrior’s hand began to glow white as his fighting spirit surged.

“Oh!” the man exclaimed. “It really is an artifact!”

“This was a gift from a student years ago. Infusing fighting spirit makes it glow, but that’s all—it has no other function,” the professor said, dampening their enthusiasm.

“Heh, you’d better be honest, or we’ll kill your bodyguard!” Clearly, they didn’t believe him.

Kevin’s face darkened; they clearly regarded him as expendable, which couldn’t be allowed. He spoke up. “Actually, I know many legends about the chamber pot.”

“You? What could you possibly know?” the mage scoffed.

“I’ve followed the professor for a long time—practically his student. He brought no other students this time, just me, so I must be important,” Kevin replied.

The two foreigners exchanged glances. The mage suggested, “Separate them. You take the bodyguard over there. We’ll each interrogate one, then compare their answers.”

“Agreed.” The other man dragged Kevin ten meters away. “Speak.”

Kevin cleared his throat. “There’s a legend: every sixty years, a chamber pot from ancient times reappears. Whoever obtains it can fulfill a single wish. Whether from this country or abroad, from this continent or another world, angel or devil, past or future—the chamber pot encompasses all.”

“To obtain it, the Church of Light decreed that only seven chosen individuals may qualify. Through special mediums, they can summon powerful spirits—beings from ancient times, invincible heroes from various eras, travelers from the future, or renowned champions from other realms. These spirits are far stronger than any Sword Saint or Grand Archmage, defying common sense.”

“The seven chosen magicians, with their summoned spirits, will wage a war. This is the famous… Chamber Pot War!” Kevin said with composure.

The man was stunned. “Why have I never heard of it?”

“Such things are only known to the highest echelons. I’ve only heard snippets from the professor,” Kevin replied calmly.

Meanwhile, the mage interrogated the professor, “What’s the use of the chamber pot’s glow?”

“Well… a student once learned a magic diagram and engraved it on the cup as a gift. It’s of no use, really,” the professor explained.

“You lie! Tell the truth, or I’ll freeze your manhood!” the mage threatened.

The professor sighed. “Perhaps it’s so I can find the cup at night by its glow, without lighting a lamp.”

“You can’t use fighting spirit, can you?” the mage asked.

“No, I can’t… but that was the student’s intention, I think,” the professor replied, struggling to explain.

“Is it a chamber pot or a cup?” the man pressed.

“A cup,” said the professor.

“Then drink from it,” he challenged.

“Well, then… a chamber pot,” the professor conceded.

“Then why did you mention drinking water?” the man was baffled.

“All right, my point is: at night, the chamber pot glows, so you don’t need a lamp, and you can aim accurately. That’s all, nothing more,” the professor clarified.

The man eyed him suspiciously, convinced the professor was lying. On the other side, Kevin was spinning elaborate tales, naming gods, kings, and demons, with grand terms such as “Reality Marble” and “King’s Treasury.”

The man was truly amazed; it takes skill to fabricate such a massive lie so convincingly, with intricate details and plotlines, as if recounting a long novel.

After a while, the mage brought the professor over to join Kevin. The professor had little to say, but Kevin’s story had only just begun.

As dusk fell, the two men lit torches and continued their interrogation. The professor, listening for a while, reacted quickly: “Stop! How can you reveal all this?”

Kevin fell silent, turning away. “I’m sorry, professor. I want to live.”

“You… sigh!” The professor sighed repeatedly. Fortunately, with everyone’s faces covered to protect from mosquitoes, expressions hardly mattered—acting was easier.

The two foreigners exchanged glances. The mage asked, “Well? Have you figured out how to activate the chamber pot?”

“We know the first step,” the warrior replied. “Pick a night when the moon is bright, throw the chamber pot toward the moon—get it as close as possible. Let it absorb the essence of the moon!”

They looked up. “The moon is bright tonight—shall we try?”

No one objected. The warrior unleashed yellow fighting spirit, the chamber pot gleaming white in his hand. He hurled it skyward, and the four watched as the glowing chamber pot soared above the trees, climbing higher and higher, before slowly descending.

Far off, outside the Poison Forest, many patrolling parrots immediately reported to their contract mages: “Unknown glowing object detected inside the Poison Forest! Requesting instructions!”