147: Chapter 147 The Madman Donates Medicine, Supplies Land (1)

Two thousand seven hundred people formed a square formation that could barely be distinguished by its rows and columns. The edges of the formation were still swaying—people on the sides were adjusting their positions. But the formation held.

Lu Changyuan pulled the three military regulations from his sleeve—he flipped the bamboo slip over, and on its back was the sea-blue Spirit Stone seal of Blue Moon Island. He held the bamboo slip up to his chest.

"The first rule—fighting, gambling, stealing, or disobeying orders within the battalion will be judged by this envoy personally. The standard for judgment is in my hands."

"The second rule—the daily training volume will follow the Vanguard Battalion standard. Those who cannot handle it will stay behind to continue training. Train until you can handle it."

"The third rule—after we set out, no one is allowed to fall behind. Those who fall behind—will be rescued. After being rescued, you will return to receive your punishment."

No one made a sound on the drill ground. But in the first row, an Old Veteran—the one with the old scar on his cheekbone—pressed the corners of his mouth down. He moved his right foot back half an inch—the movement was very small. Then he glanced at Commander Cai. Commander Cai did not look at him. Commander Cai's eyes were on the bamboo slip in Lu Changyuan's hand—the sea-blue Spirit Stone seal on the bamboo slip flashed in the morning light.

Lu Hu walked onto the drill ground. He walked to Lu Changyuan's side—tilted his head, and whispered a sentence. Lu Changyuan closed the bamboo slip.

"Young Lord—the second batch of ships from Blue Moon Island has arrived. That old madman Gu He came with the ships. There are over a dozen wooden crates sealed with Array Patterns piled on the deck, and he says he brought the medicine he just refined."

Three quarters of an hour past 5 AM, the sea fog on the Pier had not yet fully dispersed. Lu Changyuan stood at the end of the jetty, and behind him, Lu Hu hitched his scabbard up by half an inch on his belt—a row of ship silhouettes grew out of the fog on the sea surface, growing from gray shadows into ships. There were seven in total. On the bow of the leading ship, a person was squatting—gray-white hair tied into a short ponytail, wearing a faded old long gown, squatting on the bow with a porcelain bottle clutched in his hand. The surface of the porcelain bottle was sealed with two layers of Array Patterns—the outer layer dark red, the inner layer ice blue. Before the ship had even docked, he stood up, his movement so fast that he almost fell from the bow into the sea.

"Young Lord—Young Lord!" Gu He's voice carried over from the fog—his throat sounded like it had been sanded, and every word he shouted had the texture of gravel rubbing against an iron pot. "I refined it—I refined that thing!"

As soon as the gangplank touched the jetty, Gu He jumped down. When he jumped down, his foot slipped on the wet wooden board, and Lu Hu reached out and grabbed him by the back collar—Gu He's collar was pulled tight, and the porcelain bottle in his hand almost slipped away. He clutched the porcelain bottle to his chest, and he was held in mid-air by Lu Hu for a breath before being set down on the jetty.

"Take it easy." Lu Hu let go.

Gu He didn't listen at all. He squatted on the jetty—in the same posture as Commander Cai squatting on a broken wooden crate—and held the porcelain bottle up to Lu Changyuan. "blood awakening pill. I refined it on Blue Moon Island. Deep-sea poisonous grass plus anesthetic grass—you remember, right? That time the furnace exploded—no—it was the time before that—" His train of thought was chaotic, and halfway through, he got stuck, shoving the porcelain bottle into Lu Changyuan's hand. "See for yourself."

Lu Changyuan did not open the porcelain bottle. He glanced around the jetty—a few of the laborers unloading cargo on the Pier had turned their heads toward them. "We'll discuss this when we get back to the camp."

Gu He paused for a moment. Then he looked around—at the laborers on the Pier, the fortress soldiers counting supplies at the other end of the distant jetty, and the second ship still approaching the Pier on the sea. He tucked the porcelain bottle into his chest—the action was ten times slower than when he had pulled it out earlier. He stood up, patted the dirt off his knees, and followed behind Lu Changyuan toward the Sin Battalion camp.

On the outskirts of the Sin Battalion camp, there was a patch of hard-packed mud—about half a mile from the camp. Stacked at the edge of the mud patch were dozens of wooden crates sealed with Array Patterns, and Commander Cai stood beside them. He was not holding his pipe—the pipe was tucked into his belt. Seeing Lu Changyuan walk over—followed by an old man in an old gown with gray-white hair tied in a short ponytail—he raised his eyelids by half an inch.

Gu He squatted down next to the wooden crates. He took the porcelain bottle from his chest and unscrewed the cap. The moment the cap was unscrewed, a pungent odor surged out of the bottle's mouth—like the smell of rotting seaweed that was burned and then crushed. Commander Cai turned his face away by two inches. Lu Hu took half a step back. Gu He didn't react—he had been squatting in this smell for several months.

"Cage." Gu He reached out his hand.

Lu Hu took an iron cage out of his Storage Pouch—inside the cage was a Spirit Mouse. The Spirit Mouse was curled into a ball in the cage, and there was a cut on its hind leg made by a knife, the cut about two inches long, still oozing blood. Gu He grabbed the Spirit Mouse out of the cage—the Spirit Mouse struggled in his hands, and the blood from its hind leg smeared onto his fingers. He poured half a pill out of the porcelain bottle—the pill was dark brown, the size of a fingernail, and its surface was as rough as sandpaper. He stuffed the half pill into the Spirit Mouse's mouth.

The moment the Spirit Mouse swallowed it, its whole body arched—its back hunched upward, its four claws kicked wildly in Gu He's palm, and its tail slapped around loudly. It was in pain. Gu He gripped it—his fingers did not loosen. About five breaths later—the edges of the wound on the Spirit Mouse's hind leg began to change color, receding from dark red to deep brown. Eight breaths—a very thin scab formed on the surface of the wound. The tenth breath—the scab turned dark red, and the bleeding stopped. The Spirit Mouse went limp in Gu He's palm—it was still breathing, but it stopped kicking.

Gu He put the Spirit Mouse back into the cage. The Spirit Mouse lay on the bottom of the cage for about three breaths—then it rolled over and used its front paws to scratch at the hay spread on the bottom of the cage.

Lu Changyuan watched the cage. He was looking at the color of the scab on the Spirit Mouse's hind leg—a deep dark red, the same color as a freshly scabbed wound on the battlefield. Then he glanced at the red marks on Gu He's hand caused by the Spirit Mouse's kicking.

"Two problems." Gu He screwed the cap back onto the porcelain bottle. "First—it hurts to take. The level of pain—" He pointed to the Spirit Mouse in the cage that was still breathing. "You saw it too. Second—at most one pill a day. Eat more—" He used two fingers to make a splitting gesture. "The blood vessels will burst. A second pill is a death sentence."

"How many pills in a bottle?"

"Twenty pills in this bottle." Gu He pulled a roll of animal hide from his chest—the hide was densely packed with writing, the handwriting so scribbled it was almost unrecognizable, and there were scorch marks from smoke between the characters. "But I can refine no more than eighty pills per month. The deep-sea poisonous grass can only be harvested at a specific tide level on Blue Moon Island—it can only be picked when the reefs are exposed during the five days of the great low tide each month. Once those five days pass and the tide rises back up, the grass soaks in the seawater—and most of its medicinal potency dissipates. Plus, thirty percent of the batches explode during refining—" He pointed to the new burn scar on his face—stretching about two inches from his left cheekbone toward his ear, the edges of the scar still pink. "That leaves eighty pills."