"Yes, I'm familiar with it. It's from that myth, right? The lone Golden Ginseng from the lost kingdom that pops up when some mysterious conditions are met?"

Artis's tone was as confident as a drunk gambler betting his rent money.

"That's correct. And do you happen to know what those conditions are?"

The Patriarch asked, his regal tone carrying just a hint of let's-see-if-this-moron-can-keep-up.

"I don't know about that..."

Which was true. Artis didn't have the mental bandwidth to recall every single detail from the novel, especially since his original memory of the plot was fuzzier than a peach.

But he did remember the conditions were met when protagonist formed his squad of badasses, particularly when they snagged the Elven princess.

'Ah, the Elven princess...'

The mere thought of her description from the book had his little dragons doing backflips. Perfect curves, ethereal beauty, and a voice that could probably convince a monk to give up celibacy. Damn. He took a deep breath, reigning in his excitement.

'Not now, boys. Soon, though. Soon...'

"We don't know the exact conditions either," the Patriarch admitted. "But whatever they are, they've been met. A massive surge of potent qi energy has gathered just outside the kingdom."

"So... you summoned us to go grab this ginseng?"

Artis asked, his voice practically vibrating with excitement.

The realization hit him like a jolt of pleasure straight to the spine.

'Holy shit, I'm being officially added to a story arc. Like, a proper fucking plotline!'

It hadn't even been a week since he'd been unceremoniously dumped into this world, and now he was being handed a starring role on a golden platter.

He could already feel the imaginary spotlight shining on him, the dramatic music swelling in the background.

'Finally, some action!'

"Pfft... Don't get ahead of yourself, boy. The energy disturbance hasn't even been confirmed as the Ginseng."

Pliney butted in, his tone dripping with condescension.

"It's just rumors for now. And even if it were the Ginseng, it's in a no-man's zone filled with death traps, beasts, and other horrors. Every kingdom, sect, and their grandma will send their top warriors and elders.

"Even the Imperial Palace will throw in their guards and soldiers. This isn't some fairy tale where you get to waltz in and claim it."

Pliney's chins jiggled slightly as he talked, and Artis had to resist the urge to smack that smug look off his pudgy face.

"And yet," Pliney continued, sneering at Artis, "I can't understand why the Patriarch would choose to send you. As if we don't have better options than some wet-behind-the-ears brat."

Artis's eye twitched. Oh, how he dreamed of seeing Pliney take a tumble down a set of stairs, bouncing all the way to the gates of hell.

'One day, Fatty. One day, you'll be rolling like a meatball straight into the abyss.'

But instead of voicing that delightful mental image, Artis smirked and shot back,

"Maybe, Grand Elder, it's because I have a knack for sniffing out trouble—a skill you've clearly perfected in creating."

The jab landed beautifully, earning a few chuckles from the room and a loud, belly-shaking laugh from Jin. Pliney's face turned beet red, his features contorted in anger.

"You—"

"Enough, Pliney. We don't have time for your fat mouth right now."

The Patriarch's voice cut through the air, slamming Pliney into silence faster than Artis could dream of slapping that smug grin off his face. He turned to Artis, focusing on him like a laser.

"You're right on that part, but we aren't going in blind. I've already sent scouts to confirm if the Ginseng is really there. If the rumors are true, then you'll be tagging along with our army. Your job? Get the Ginseng. Got it?"

Artis blinked. Him? The guy who had the worst cultivation base in this whole damn sect—he was going to be the one to grab the Ginseng?

He had no idea why the hell he was picked, but honestly, he didn't care. He was just happy to be on the team.

'Maybe, being the world's shittiest advisor to Jin had some perks after all.'

Artis thought, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Go on, and get ready," the Patriarch continued, his voice even more commanding now. "The expedition might start tomorrow, next week, or next month, but be ready to jump the moment you're summoned."

Artis nodded, pretending to look all serious, but on the inside, he was already imagining himself swaggering through the battlefield, Ginseng in hand, like some hero out of a cheap action flick.

"Understood," he said, giving a deep, overly dramatic bow.

He was definitely going to milk this for all it was worth.

...

Artis quickly stormed out of the palace, leaving Chen behind like an afterthought—no goodbye, no "Hey, fucker, I'm out," just a straight-up exit. He was too pumped to care.

When he got home, it was already past noon. His dad was probably off somewhere drunk as a skunk, just as usual.

His mood was sour as hell from the palace drama, but the moment his eyes landed on the scene before him, the storm clouds in his brain parted like magic.

Nadia was sprawled on the couch like a goddess in a cheap robe, the top half sliding off her shoulders just enough to reveal creamy skin and a teasing glimpse of cleavage.

Juliana was behind her, rubbing her shoulders with all the focus of someone kneading dough for a divine feast.

Artis froze in the doorway, his foul mood dissolving faster than his father's sobriety. A slow grin spread across his face, wicked thoughts flooding his mind faster than he could count them.

'Holy fuck, today just got real interesting.'

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching as Nadia let out a soft moan under Juliana's touch. The sound sent a jolt straight to his cock.

"Ladies," he drawled, his voice slick with amusement, "is this a private show, or can I join in?"