6. Good Harvest

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"Hmm..." It was already five o'clock in the afternoon when Chris woke up from bed.

He had been awakened by five Zigzagoons licking his face, while Torchic chirped happily beside him.

He got up, stretched, and refreshed himself.

"It's great to be young!" Chris said as he stretched out his body comfortably.

If he had been in his nearly forty-year-old body from his previous life, he would have had a splitting headache from sleeping all night. Even if he had woken up, he would be lying in bed, groggy and sore, possibly needing Smelling Salts to feel alive again.

He still felt a bit tired.

Chris washed his face, got up, and took a deep breath.

Alright, first things first: make dinner for the five Zigzagoons and Torchic. He'd use the Oran Berries he collected yesterday. After that, he would visit the breeder tomorrow morning to get a customized Pokémon recipe for them.

These little guys were the heroes of yesterday's adventure; they deserved a good reward.

Chris had started hunting Ralts at 3 a.m. and continued until 7 a.m. He then went downstairs for breakfast before finally resting.

Four hours of uninterrupted battles—with great success!

In those four hours, Chris fought at least 300 battles and encountered 13 Ralts. The encounter rate was only 4 to 5% at best.

The odds were too low.

Chris debated whether he should lower his standards. Maybe he should stop aiming for a shiny Ralts and instead aim for a 2V Ralts with Speed and Special Attack maxed out. If it was a male, he'd go for Speed and Physical Attack.

But even with lower standards, none of the 13 Ralts met Chris's criteria. So he transferred them all to the computer at the Pokémon Center.

Technically, that meant teleporting them to Professor Birch, who was taking care of them in Littleroot Town.

If a Ralts like that were sold in a breeding house, it would fetch at least a million, and Chris wasn't about to let one go so easily.

In China, selling Pokémon without a professional qualification certificate was illegal.

So, Chris planned to get a high-level Pokémon breeder's certificate, then open his own breeding center to sell rare and powerful Pokémon like Ralts and Abra. Wouldn't that be faster than making money by collecting random items?

"No, I can't lower the standards," Chris decided. Even if he wasn't hunting for a shiny, he still needed a Ralts with high individual values, like at least 4V.

After all, he wanted it as a main battler. It would be too late to regret choosing a weak one once its level was high.

There was still no promising Ralts to be found, but the scavenger team had collected nearly 200 items during those 300 battles.

Chris kept 50 Poké Balls, 10 Great Balls, 20 Potions, 10 Antidotes, and 10 Paralyze Heals. The rest he sold at the store.

Now, his bank balance was 15,547.5.

Fifteen thousand in four hours! And that was after keeping nearly 100 items. Without those, his earnings would have doubled.

Turns out, picking up loot was pretty profitable!

Each of his Pokémon had three Oran Berries, and some milk from the fridge. After preparing Dinner for them, Chris made himself a potato brisket rice and ate it happily.

After Dinner, he returned his Pokémon to their Poké Balls, then opened Gameboy Advance, ready to resume his Ralts hunt while listening to some stand-up comedy.

Just as he was about to turn on his handheld, there was a loud knock at the door.

"Boom!"

"Brother Chris! Are you at home?!"

"Brother Chris!"

"Boom!"

A man's voice echoed from the other side of the door, and it sounded like if Chris didn't answer soon, the man would barge in.

Chris quickly put down his handheld, got up, and opened the door.

Standing outside was a rough-looking man who, upon seeing Chris, rushed over dramatically, as if in mourning. "Brother Feng, don't do anything rash!"

Without missing a beat, Chris snapped back, "Go to hell! Why would I? I haven't even enjoyed life yet!"

The man in front of him was Trevor, one of Chris's best friends and his junior. They had gone to elementary school, junior high, and high school together.

"Then why didn't you answer my calls? I thought you were losing it because you couldn't make it as a trainer!"

"Really?" Chris grabbed his phone and saw more than a dozen missed calls, all from Trevor. The calls had started at ten in the morning and continued until three in the afternoon.

"Oh, I was up all night gaming and didn't fall asleep until 7 a.m. I just woke up and haven't checked my phone yet." Chris let Trevor inside.

Once assured that Chris wasn't having any dark thoughts, Trevor breathed a sigh of relief.

As he stepped in, he said, "Like I told you yesterday, you should reconsider. Let me take you to the Redwood Wetland to catch a Poliwag. Even if you're not ready to pursue the trainer's path yet, you can catch one now, raise it for later, and you'll be ahead of the game when you decide to become a professional."

Redwood Wetland was an E-class forest wetland near Redwood city.

This world classified Pokémon-dense regions by danger level, with S being the highest and E the lowest.

Redwood Wetland was the safest area, home to many Water, Grass, and Flying-type Pokémon, including some rare ones. It was a popular spot for novice trainers near Redwood city.

Chris neither agreed nor refused immediately, instead rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Trevor, seeing that Chris didn't outright decline like the day before, pressed his advantage. "If you're worried about raising a Poliwag, how about a Magikarp? You can feed it leftovers, and one day it might evolve into a Gyarados."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Raise a Magikarp on leftovers? And what if it evolves into Gyarados? Do you think it'll still listen to me? It'd probably swallow me whole!"

"Alright, fine, let's go to Redwood Wetland tomorrow," Chris finally said. But in truth, he wasn't interested in catching a Pokémon.

Why go out when he could stay home, drink Coke, play games, and hunt for a 6V shiny? Much more appealing, in his opinion.

However, Chris had something else in mind he wanted to confirm.

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