Feng Xue’s so-called discovery was really quite simple when put plainly; the key lay in the attribute "No value" within the Water Skipping Stone.
Although it was unclear whether this attribute arose naturally or was inherent in the coins she crafted, it served as a reminder to Feng Xue—
In essence, coins are supposed to be "valuable."
Whether it’s value on a credit level or a tallic level, it is first and foremost recognized as "value," and it is this value that allows it to serve as currency.
Not just currency, even arcade tokens hold value because they represent "sothing to use for playing gas," and the sa is true for virtual items in online gas.
Especially in this world, where cognition equals power, the rule "what people perceive as valuable actually holds real value" seed to have been ingrained in the fundantal laws.
In other words, does a coin only truly beco valuable when it is recognized as a "valuable" item?
With this idea, Feng Xue was quick to put it into practice.
The simplest thod, of course, was to use precious tals such as gold and silver for manufacturing since the intrinsic "value" of the tals would transform into the value of the coins themselves.
However, this thod, which obviously involved cutting corners, likely wouldn’t be very successful because for a currency to be recognized, it first needed to be circulated; otherwise, only the precious tals themselves were valuable, not the currency.
Moreover, the world wasn’t unaware of Kaidan. It was one thing to buy everyday items like groceries or fruits and vegetables from a supermarket, but handling large amounts of precious tals could easily draw attention from relevant authorities. Even if not from official bodies, just dealing with types like Jeston who sought to profit from Kaidan was trouble enough.
After thorough consideration, Feng Xue decided to abandon the straightforward approach and instead adopt a different strategy.
A strategy more in line with the concept of "Kaidan."
However, to realize his idea, these poorly made, insubstantial coins weren’t up to the task, so Feng Xue decided to acquire so raw materials first—
Fortunately, Victoria had a decent DIY culture. In hardware stores, he could get equipnt like spray guns, small furnaces, and gas cylinders, which made talworking much easier. As for the fact that ordinary gas stoves couldn’t reach the temperatures necessary to lt pennies... Feng Xue had Inner Strength!
...
Thus, Feng Xue’s days beca more structured. Around eight in the morning, he would head to the most chaotic and impoverished East District in Bakerland, withdraw the resources for the day from an ATM, and while at it, call an ambulance to secure his current base.
By noon, he would find warehouses that had been unused for a long ti or villas that were mostly idle for most of the year to do his tal slting work. He would lt low denomination coins into bars easy to handle and use the hoowner’s Internet to stoke the legend of "Demon Chef."
When four o’clock arrived, he would go to the supermarket, look for the housewives of the day, spread urban legends while securing a rich dinner for himself. When night fell, he would return to his base, where he’d cut and carve the lted tal bars into exquisitely crafted coins.
...
Pete Lyle was a 15-year-old teenager from Victoria, born into an ordinary working-class family. His parents spent a considerable amount of money to send him to an expensive private middle school, and he was fully aware of the expectations they had of him, dedicating all his ti to his studies.
However, this manner of conduct created a significant gap between him and his more affluent classmates. He was seen as an antisocial bookworm, often subjected to indirect aggression, which gradually began to evolve into outright bullying as ti went by.
As for the teachers, those students from affluent backgrounds, even those with considerable backing, were naturally more worth pleasing than a poor kid like him.
However, for his parents’ expectations, he had eventually borne everything, and the consequence was only an intensification of his classmates’ bullying...
Not a very pleasant day had finally co to an end—Pete walked on the way ho, gently patting the dust and mud off his clothing. Although the school offered boarding, he had chosen to commute, firstly to save on expensive boarding fees, and secondly to get so respite.
Recently, Bakerland had not been very peaceful, so Pete walked very quickly. As he passed through the alley he usually traversed, however, he suddenly paused—
He saw a person lying in the alley!
His clothes appeared very expensive, but now they were covered with dust. The twilight sun squeezed into a thin line by the buildings on both sides happened to fall on him; his slight movents seed to prove he was still alive, but his condition could hardly be considered good.
At that mont, Pete’s first reaction was to imdiately walk away, but for so reason, he suddenly felt that this man, covered in dust, seed sowhat similar to his bullied self.
After a brief struggle, he finally made up his mind, approached, and without making imdiate contact, asked from a few ters away,
"Sir, do you need to call an ambulance?"
"..."
The man appeared to say sothing, but the noise from the street made it hard for Pete to hear him.
"Sir, what did you say?"
"Light... help block it..."
Pete finally captured the man’s weak, intermittent voice. Although he did not react imdiately, perhaps by coincidence, perhaps by fate, the westward setting of the sun had reached a critical position, causing Pete’s not-so-tall figure to just cast a shadow over the man in front.
Soon, sothing incredible happened—right in front of Pete’s eyes, the dust, dirt, and breakage on the man’s clothes began to disappear slowly in an unbelievable manner, almost as if ti were flowing backward.
Ti seed to freeze at that mont; Pete did not know how long he had been standing there, maybe only a dozen seconds, or perhaps several minutes. Eventually, the man regained his vitality, stood up, revealing a smile much milder than that of a Victorian.
"Thank you, child, I owe you a favor," the man’s tone was elegant and rhythmic. Though Pete had not yet recovered from witnessing the supernatural phenonon, good upbringing still made him respond:
"No, I didn’t do anything..."
"There’s no need to be modest, child, fair exchange is my credo," the man maintained his gentle smile, and continued:
"Do you want anything? So money? A toy? Or perhaps to teach a bully a lesson?"
"Uh, I..." Pete hesitated, not knowing how to reply. The man, catching this, did not show any impatience but thoughtfully pulled out a refined coin from his pocket. Seeing that Pete did not reach out, he took Pete’s right hand and placed the coin in his palm—
"No worries, if you can’t think of anything now, it’s fine. When you’ve decided what you want, wrap a piece of paper with your wish around this coin and place it into locker number 13 at Princeton Station. I will fulfill it for you, but just this one ti."
"I..." Pete wanted to say more, but the man before him suddenly spread his arms, then just like that, disappeared from his sight...
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