112: Chapter 112 The Workshop Shows Its Power, Turning the Tables

The Trial Workshop is located on the east side of Outer Port, less than half a mile from the Pier.

Chen Mo chose this location because it was close to the water—the cold water used for mixing the purification liquid could be drawn directly from the cold water layer of Outer Port, saving Spiritual Qi that would otherwise be wasted on cooling.

The house was not large; two rooms had been combined into one, and a rough cloth shed had been set up outside to provide shelter from the rain.

Manager Song Yuan paused at the door.

He observed the environment around the Trial Workshop—the stone path was swept clean, and the bags of raw materials stacked under the shed were arranged by category, with a small cloth strip sewn onto each bag, inscribed with writing.

"thunder bamboo Wood Chips—Third Batch—Stored on the third day of the ninth month," Manager Song Yuan read aloud.

He turned to look at Lu Changyuan. "Who wrote the text on these raw material bags?"

"The apprentices wrote them. Every batch of raw materials must be numbered, dated, and logged by batch upon storage."

Manager Song Yuan did not ask further.

He pushed open the door of the Trial Workshop and walked in.

Chen Mo was by the pot, directing two apprentices in preparing the materials.

The pot was a handmade Array Pot—it had a copper base as thick as a bowl, with three circles of temperature-control Array Patterns carved into the pot walls, and a palm-sized Spirit Stone pressed beneath the pot to provide energy.

One apprentice was squatting by the pot, adding crushed Spirit Stones into the firebox to regulate the temperature, while the other was weighing thunder bamboo wood chips on a stone table nearby using a tiny bone spoon—each scoop was measured, and after weighing, it was poured into a white porcelain dish and arranged neatly.

The base liquid in the pot was simmering.

Extremely fine white bubbles were churning on the pale blue surface, and the steam above the liquid lacked any pungent medicinal odor.

Manager Song Yuan stood by the pot and watched for a good while.

He wasn't looking at the pot—he was watching the people.

The apprentice adding the Spirit Stones glanced down every little while at a small cloth bag placed at his feet.

The bag also had a cloth strip sewn onto it: 'Old Sand—Seventh Batch—Replaced on the eighth day of the ninth month.'

The apprentice weighing the wood chips would calibrate his bone spoon against a small copper plate with engraved graduations after every three scoops.

"How long does it take to make one pot—from start to finish?" Manager Song Yuan asked.

"Two hours," Chen Mo replied without lifting his head. "Half an hour for material preparation, one hour for temperature control, and half an hour for collecting the liquid and sealing. Each pot yields thirty to forty small bottles. We can make at most two pots a day—we cannot rush. If we rush, the temperature control won't be accurate, and the quality of the resulting liquid will be off."

"These two apprentices—how long have they been with you?"

"The longer one has been here for a month and a half, the shorter one for half a month. The newer one is still learning material preparation. In the mixing ratio of the purification liquid, the proportion of old sand to thunder bamboo wood chips is crucial—even a little too much or too little won't work."

Chen Mo took a small cloth bag off the wall and handed it to Manager Song Yuan. "This is a sample of the old sand left over from the last pot."

Manager Song Yuan took the bag and poured a few grains of old sand into his palm.

The sand grains were dark grey, with a few extremely faint, dark golden patterns attached to the surface—those were the marks left by the root system of the thunder bamboo in the sand layer.

Each grain of sand was uniform in size, with no fine debris.

"Do you keep samples every time the old sand is replaced?" Manager Song Yuan's voice slowed down.

"We keep them all." Chen Mo pulled open a wooden cabinet door in the corner of the Trial Workshop.

Inside the cabinet were dozens of small cloth bags arranged neatly, each with a cloth strip sewn onto it—replacement date, quality rating, and the person who performed the replacement.

The earliest bag was from three months ago, and the one on top was placed just yesterday.

The cloth bags were arranged in three rows by date, with moisture-proof dried algae ash packets stuffed in the gaps.

Manager Song Yuan stood in front of the cabinet without moving.

He put the bag of old sand he was holding back in its original place, then pulled out a bag from the middle of the cabinet and opened it.

The cloth strip read 'Ninth Month, Fifth Day—Old Sand Replacement—Quality: High—Replaced by: Ye Zhe.'

The old sand in the bag was identical in color, coarseness, and the direction of the residual patterns to the one from just now.

He put it back and checked another one. It was the same.

"This sample cabinet—who set it up?"

"The Young Lord ordered it." Chen Mo turned down the Spirit Stone under the pot slightly. "At first, I didn't understand why we needed to keep samples of every batch—aren't they all the same sand? Later, I discovered they weren't. On the days when the thunder bamboo grew well, the residual patterns in the old sand were denser, and the purification liquid produced was one grade more stable. On the days when the thunder bamboo grew slowly, the old sand was lighter in color—we had to add half a coin's weight more of thunder bamboo wood chips to the mix to compensate. Without keeping samples, these differences wouldn't be visible."

Manager Song Yuan closed the cabinet door.

He walked to Chen Mo's workbench—a thread-bound booklet lay open on the table.

The booklet was bound with coarse linen thread, and the cover read 'purification liquid Production Archives—Blue Moon Island Trial Workshop.'

He opened the first page.

It recorded all the data for the first pot of purification liquid in neat, small regular script: feeding time, old sand batch number, weight of thunder bamboo wood chips, which molt of the fine crushed skin was selected, ratio, liquid yield, quality rating, waste disposal method, and sealing time.

Every piece of data had Chen Mo's signature after it.

Flipping to the later pages, next to the ratio column for individual batches, there were notes added in extremely fine handwriting—'The particle size of this batch of thunder bamboo wood chips is too fine, reduced the amount of old sand by half a coin.'

Manager Song Yuan flipped to the last page and closed the booklet.

He stood beside the workbench in silence for a long time.

"Lord Lu," he turned around. "I have been doing business at Jubao Pavilion for twenty-three years and have seen no fewer than fifty spiritual liquid Workshops. The alchemy rooms of major Schools are not rare—they have Spirit Stones, Legacies, and high-level alchemists. What is rare is a handmade Array Pot on a small island, backed by a system found only in the alchemy rooms of major Schools."

He paused.

"These systems—sample retention, archives, batch-by-batch numbering—who decided on them?"

"I did," Lu Changyuan stood at the doorway, hands tucked into his sleeves. "I decided on them when I first came back from Xingyan. At that time, not a single bottle of purification liquid had been sold—Jubao Pavilion was driving the price down, and the military channels hadn't been opened yet. Chen Mo was squatting in this Trial Workshop alone, facing this pot, doing everything from preparing materials to sealing, not knowing if he would even be making the next batch."

"What was the point of setting up a system back then?"

"If I didn't set it up then—it would be too late once sales started." Lu Changyuan walked into the Trial Workshop, picked up a production archive from Chen Mo's workbench, and turned to the first page. "Before the first bottle was sold, I didn't know if the purification liquid would sell. But I knew—if it could be sold, the buyer would eventually ask one day: Why is your product always so stable? Relying on words alone wouldn't be enough that day; you have to have something to show people."

Manager Song Yuan looked at the archive booklet in Lu Changyuan's hand.

The linen thread on the cover had been flipped through hundreds of times, and the thread ends were slightly frayed.

"Lord Lu—I need to change a few places in the previous contract."

After Manager Song Yuan returned to the reception hall, he took a new contract paper bag from his attendant.

He didn't spread it out immediately but placed the contract paper on the table and took a sip of tea first.

The tea had gone cold, but he didn't ask anyone to change it.

"Before coming, I had prepared a set of arguments to drive down the price," he put down the teacup. "The core points were nothing more than—too low production, unstable formula, and questionable raw material sources. After seeing the Workshop just now, these three arguments are gone."

"So?"

"So the conditions for the civilian agency—will be as you requested." Manager Song Yuan spread out the new contract paper.

There were only four clauses on it—

First, Jubao Pavilion is responsible for Outer Sea transportation and all civilian channel distribution; shipping costs, tariffs, and channel losses are all borne by Jubao Pavilion. Blue Moon Island is only responsible for production and the ex-factory price.

Second, the pricing power belongs entirely to Blue Moon Island. Jubao Pavilion's selling price in civilian channels must not be lower than the ex-factory price—but if Blue Moon Island sets a price in civilian channels that is lower than the military selling price, Blue Moon Island will bear the loss of the price difference itself.

Third, advance payments are settled every six months. The first advance payment will be fully paid based on the estimated supply volume for the first month, and subsequent monthly actual payments will be deducted from the advance payment, with the actual supply volume settled every six months by refunding the excess or making up the deficiency.

Fourth, sign for one year. If both parties have no objections after one year, the contract will automatically renew.

Lu Changyuan finished reading the contract.

He didn't look at the second and third clauses—he looked at the small line of text at the end of the fourth clause: 'This contract does not restrict Blue Moon Island from signing agency contracts with other commercial firms—but Jubao Pavilion enjoys the right of first refusal for renewal in civilian channels.'

"The right of first refusal for renewal—who added this?"

"I did." Manager Song Yuan looked up at Lu Changyuan, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were smiling but not really smiling. "Lord Lu—I have seen many small Workshops that turn their backs on their old agents after they become big. This Workshop of yours will grow so large in civilian channels within a year that other commercial firms will come to snatch it. I left a right of first refusal for renewal—not because I want to lock you in, but because I want to leave myself a position where I can 'at least have a chance to talk again'."

Lu Changyuan pushed the contract to Su Qingli.

Su Qingli took it, read it from beginning to end twice, listed the summary item by item in the account book, drew a line under the summary, and wrote a line of text below the line: 'Calculated based on a minimum monthly supply of eighty bottles and forty-five Spirit Stones per bottle—the six-month advance payment is about twenty-one thousand six hundred Spirit Stones. The military long-term contract has a monthly supply of one hundred fifty to two hundred bottles, at fifty-five Spirit Stones per bottle during the same period. Combined, Blue Moon Island's annual Spirit Stone income will exceed the current family fortune by several times.'

Lu Changyuan glanced at the account book.

He didn't look at the final total—he looked at the small line of text Su Qingli added below: 'The above is only for purification liquid. It does not include the output of cold marrow jade shell, earth vein jade spike, and subsequent base products.'

He closed the account book, picked up a pen from the table, and signed the contract.

"Manager Song Yuan—when will the first ship of goods come to be picked up?"

"The first day of next month. My treasure ship will arrive at the port on time—eighty bottles." Manager Song Yuan stood up, took a flat jade box out of his sleeve, and placed it on the table. "This is the advance payment for the first six months."

Su Qingli opened the jade box.

Inside, two rows of Mid-Grade Spirit Stones were arranged neatly—each was the size of a thumb, full of Spiritual Qi, with a layer of pale blue spiritual light circulating on the surface.

She counted them with her fingers, then looked up at Lu Changyuan, her lips moving.

Her hand pressed on the edge of the jade box until her knuckles turned white.

Manager Song Yuan had already walked to the door.

He stopped on the threshold without looking back.

"Lord Lu—I have been at Jubao Pavilion for twenty-three years and have seen two types of Workshops. One relies on luck to produce a batch of good goods and then desperately expands production—most don't survive three years. The other is one that establishes the system before selling anything—this kind is rare." He pushed the door open. "See you on the first day of next month."

When the treasure ship of Jubao Pavilion weighed anchor, the sun was already setting in the west.

The red Spirit Stones in the eyes of the golden-winged bird on the bow shone like two stars in the twilight.

Su Qingli stood by the Pier, holding the jade box.

Her fingers were still white on the lid of the box.

"Young Lord—these Spirit Stones are enough for Blue Moon Island to live on for a whole year."

"Not enough." Lu Changyuan took the jade box and weighed it. "These are advance payments—not profit. The next eighty bottles of purification liquid will be made for free; the payment has already been made. Only after this batch of goods is delivered and the second advance payment is stored, will we truly start making money."

He handed the jade box to Su Qingli.

"Store it. Record it in the private treasury—the advance payment for civilian agency does not go through the public treasury account. The public treasury runs on the monthly settlements of the military long-term contract. Keep the two sums of money separate."

Su Qingli took the jade box, opened a new page in the account book, and wrote three lines: 'Civilian Agency Advance Payment Stored—Six Months. Source: Jubao Pavilion East Sea District. Deposited in: Lord's Private Treasury.'

After writing, she flipped the account book back a page.

She flipped to the line she recorded three months ago when Lu Changyuan established the private treasury system: 'The Lord's private treasury and public treasury accounts are separated—the private treasury is used for high-risk procurement and secret channel expenses, while the public treasury is used for daily operations and military affairs.'

When this separation rule was set three months ago, there wasn't a single Spirit Stone in the private treasury.

Now, the first advance payment had been stuffed into it.

Lu Changyuan turned away from the Pier and walked along the stone path back towards the Council Hall.

In the twilight, the chimney of the Trial Workshop was no longer smoking—Chen Mo had finished his two pots for the day.

The cold light of the Starlight Coral on the water surface began to brighten, spreading out in circles from the reef wall outside the berth.

When he reached the entrance of the Council Hall, Su Qingli followed from behind.

"Governor Xue Zhen's Envoy is still waiting in the side hall. He has been waiting since this morning—he hasn't eaten or drunk any tea." Su Qingli lowered her voice. "I went to refill his water once in the middle, and he was sitting in the chair not knowing where to put his hands and feet."

Lu Changyuan stood at the entrance of the Council Hall for a while.

A solitary lamp shone through the window of the side hall—the Envoy's shadow was cast on the window paper, motionless.

"Bring those three stacks of old archives to the side hall. Place the page with the cut edge facing up on top."

"Are you going to have a showdown?"

"Not a showdown," Lu Changyuan pushed open the door of the side hall. "It's telling him—I can handle it."