123: Chapter 123 Secret Order Sets the Stage; Money Sweeps Away Disaster

Smoke rose from the direction of the Trial Workshop.

Chen Mo's fourth new pot was undergoing a test run—the Spirit Fire beneath the pot turned the water in the cooling trough into white steam, which rose along the direction of the thin soil area of the Spirit Fields.

The smoke was thin and whitish in color, completely different from the blue-grey cooking smoke of the shed area.

The fourth pot had been running all night, and just before dawn, Chen Mo had sent an apprentice over to report: "The fourth pot—the liquid output is stable. The first batch of military standard—the concentration is half a grade higher than the civilian version."

Su Qingli was walking back from the Pier.

She stopped halfway and turned to look at Lu Changyuan.

"Young Lord—there is one more thing. The fortress Logistics Department has dumped that military doctor, Gu He, onto our island. He arrived yesterday afternoon—the moment he got off the ship, he used a hammer to knock out a laborer who was complaining of shoulder pain."

"Knocked him out?"

"He calls it 'physical anesthesia.' After knocking him out, he reset the laborer's dislocated shoulder—his technique was excellent; one push and one twist, and it was back in place. When the laborer woke up, his arm could move, but he had a lump on the back of his head."

"Where is he now?"

"On the west side of the Outer Port reef area—he built a shed on the rocks himself. Outside the shed, he has neatly stacked a row of dried poisonous mushrooms. He says they are medicinal ingredients—and doesn't let anyone touch them."

Lu Changyuan glanced toward the reef area.

A wisp of extremely faint green smoke rose from the southwest corner of the reef area—the color was different from the blue-grey cooking smoke of the shed area, and also different from the white steam rising from the cooling trough of the Trial Workshop.

The green smoke billowed twice in the morning light, dispersed a little by the sea breeze, but didn't dissipate completely—where it spread, it gathered back together, like something alive probing the surroundings in the air.

"What does he have in that iron gourd?"

"He claims it's medicine. But I had Chen Mo take a look—Chen Mo said that the iron gourd's lid is embedded with three different toxic-sealing Array Patterns. It's fine when sealed tight—but if the lid is loosened even a crack, it can knock out all living things within a ten-zhang radius."

Su Qingli clutched the register in her hand a little tighter, "Young Lord—this person, should we keep him?"

"Keep him. He is a discarded pawn thrown away by Right Commander Li Feng—a discarded pawn is one of our people."

Lu Changyuan glanced toward the reef area again, "Tomorrow at dawn—I will go meet him."

The golden Sword Intent on the outer edge of the Restriction faded a degree in the morning sunlight—but it did not disappear.

The first layer of the Geng Metal Sword Intent spread over the surface of the water, casting a faint golden reflection into the waterway on the outer edge of the Restriction.

A school of Silver-Scaled Moon Fish swam out from the cold light of the coral, stopping abruptly when they reached the outer edge of the Restriction—the school of fish turned neatly in front of the golden reflection and swam back.

They could smell that golden light.

The messenger skiff from the Logistics Department at the Pier weighed anchor.

The messenger stood straight at the stern of the boat—clutching the exemption list and Spirit Stone allocation form that Su Qingli had just signed.

As the skiff sailed out of the Outer Port berth, the bottom of the boat grazed over the layer of Geng Metal Sword Intent, and the hull was pushed by the Sword Intent—sliding several zhang further out before stabilizing.

Su Qingli stood on the Pier.

Her hand was still pressed on the cover of the account book—thirty-two thousand Spirit Stones, drawn from both the public and private treasuries, with the destination of every single Spirit Stone recorded in the ledger.

She turned this page of accounts to the front, and recalculated the monthly balance line on the previous page three times.

Monthly Income: Military long-term contract monthly supply of 150 bottles (55 Spirit Stones/bottle) = 8,250 Spirit Stones; first batch for civilian channels of 80 bottles (45 Spirit Stones/bottle) = 3,600 Spirit Stones. Totaling approximately 11,850 Spirit Stones.

Monthly Expenses: Labor and fertilizer for Spirit Field expansion, Workshop raw material procurement, Pier stone materials, population food rations—totaling approximately 5,800 Spirit Stones.

The monthly surplus should have been about 6,000 Spirit Stones.

But today—an extra line appeared in the expenditure column: "Conscription Order Compensation: 32,000 Spirit Stones total (10,000 from public treasury + 22,000 from private treasury)."

The public treasury had less than 2,000 left, and the private treasury's advance payment from the Jubao Pavilion was only enough to last two months.

She closed the account book.

Before closing it, she wrote a small line at the very bottom: "Three months. The Young Lord said—three months."

The green smoke in the southwest corner of the reef area became a little thicker in the afternoon sunlight.

A crisp hammer strike came from the direction of Gu He's shed—it was that same muffled sound of "physical anesthesia," followed by a burst of incoherent muttering.

Two unknown seabirds were perched on a rock, tilting their heads to look toward the shed; after watching for a long while, one flew away—the other remained perched.

Its claws shifted down an inch, scratching a tiny claw mark onto the reef.

At dawn, the green smoke in the reef area faded.

Lu Changyuan walked along the gravel beach on the west side of the Outer Port toward the reef area.

The gravel beach was covered with a thin layer of salt moss—slippery to step on, with hard reef underneath.

The reef cluster at the end of the beach had been carved by the sea breeze into various shapes—some looked like low tables, others like lopsided stone stools.

The spot Gu He had chosen was at the far west of the reef cluster—surrounded by water on three sides, with a natural stone ridge at the back; when the tide rose, the water reached less than three feet from the entrance of the shed.

The shed was built very crudely.

A few old oars served as pillars, and the roof was covered with a layer of dried seaweed—the seaweed wasn't tied down tightly and had been blown up halfway by the wind.

Outside the shed, a row of stone slabs was neatly stacked—on each stone slab, mushrooms of different colors were drying.

Greyish-white ones, dark brown ones, and ones with purple spots on top.

The mushrooms were categorized by color, with a span's width between each category, arranged with the precision of an old apothecary organizing a medicine cabinet.

A person was crouching at the entrance of the shed.

Greyish-white hair was tied into a messy short ponytail.

He was wearing an old regulation long robe from the Military Medical Bureau—the robe had originally been navy blue, but washing had faded it to a color that was hard to tell if it was grey or blue.

The cuffs were worn out, revealing two thin, bony wrists.

He was crouching on the ground, using a small iron hammer to tap a dried black mushroom—with every hammer strike, a tiny white line would crack across the mushroom.

The white line extended outward along the mushroom's gills, stopping at the edge of the mushroom.

He tapped it seven times.

The mushroom split into seven pieces—each piece almost the same size.

Lu Changyuan stopped in front of the shed.

"Gu He."

The old man looked up.

He glanced at Lu Changyuan—his eyes were not large, but his pupils were extremely bright, a brightness completely different from being hale and hearty—it was the light that only appears after suddenly catching something interesting amidst a pile of chaotic thoughts.

"Lord Lu."

He placed the small iron hammer on his knee, "You should step to the left first—the layer of gravel beneath where you are standing is loose. If you step on it, you will slip. If you slip, you might fall. If you fall, you might touch my mushrooms. If you touch my mushrooms—the poison on your soles will take three days of soaking in seven types of herbs to wash clean."

Lu Changyuan moved a step to the left.

"You knocked out a laborer yesterday."

"His shoulder was dislocated—anterior shoulder dislocation, the humeral head had slipped under the coracoid process. Standard reduction requires two people—one to hold the shoulder, one to pull the arm and rotate it outward. But I was the only one there at the time."

Gu He flipped the hammer over and drew an arc on his knee with the hammer handle, "One hammer strike to the back of the head—not just anywhere. There is a spot on the back of the head; if you hit it accurately, it only blocks the perception of pain—it doesn't hurt the person. When the laborer woke up, his arm could move—this was a successful case."

As he spoke, the hammer handle kept gesturing on his knee—the arc drawn by the tip of the hammer handle wound back and forth, following the path of the joint, tracing the entire outline of a human upper arm bone.

Lu Changyuan crouched down.

He pointed to the row of mushrooms with purple spots on the stone slab.

"What can this type—do?"

"Purple-spotted mushrooms. Dried to fifty percent—ground into powder, mixed with three auxiliary ingredients, it can create a corrosive toxic miasma that would make even a Golden Core Stage cultivator lose a layer of skin if they came into contact with it."

Gu He pointed the hammer backward into the shed—in the corner of the shed crouched that black iron medicine gourd.

The gourd was a size larger than an ordinary wine jar, its surface pitted and uneven, and the lid on the gourd's mouth was clamped with three copper rings of different colored Array Patterns.

Red copper, bronze, dark copper—one ring of each.

"Is that what's inside that gourd?"

"Yes. Three types of toxic-sealing Array Patterns—red copper seals corrosiveness, bronze seals penetrability, dark copper seals volatility. If the lid is loosened a crack—all living things within a ten-zhang radius are knocked out. Loosened two turns—fifty zhang. All three turns opened—I have to take the antidote first myself."

Lu Changyuan looked at the iron gourd.

There were some dents on the surface of the gourd—from hammer strikes.

Gu He probably used the same hammer to pound medicinal ingredients and to pound the gourd.

"Gu He—why did the Military Medical Bureau throw you out of the fortress?"

Gu He's hand, which was tapping the mushroom, paused for a breath.