149: Chapter 149 A Keen Eye for Talent, Making Friends Across Ranks (1)

The night wind blew into the camp from the direction of the sea—the wind carried the salty scent of rocks that had been baking in the sun all day after the tide receded.

The flames of the campfire were pressed down by half an inch by the wind, and the area lit by the firelight on the gravel ground shrank by another circle.

Lu Changyuan sat down on a piece of sea rock opposite the campfire—the surface of the rock was rough, covered in a layer of dried barnacle shells, and as he sat, the shells made a faint crunching sound beneath him.

Lu Hu stood three paces behind him—his blade was at his waist, but his hand was not on the hilt.

Yet the position where he stood and the two men in gray across the campfire formed a new triangle.

The lines of the triangle could not be seen in the night wind—but all five people present had traced them in their minds.

The young man removed the military register from his knees—a faint, golden light still shimmered over the dark red, damp stain on the cover of the register.

He placed the register on the gravel at his feet—as he set it down, the register tilted and slid half an inch toward the campfire.

He stopped it with his heel.

"Chu Yunfei—a captain of the Grain Supervision Office of the Military Department."

His voice was low—and as he spoke, there was still uncleared phlegm in his throat.

He stretched his hands toward the campfire to warm them.

On his knuckles, there were thin calluses worn from long-term pen-holding—the calluses were located on the outer side of the first joint of his index finger and the inner side of the second joint of his middle finger.

"I've been at the fortress for three months—I've been staying in logistics the whole time. I moved over after the oath-taking ceremony a few days ago."

Lu Changyuan glanced at his hands.

Calluses from holding a pen.

A captain of the Grain Supervision Office holds an ink brush every day to copy inventory lists—the position of the calluses matched this.

But on the back of the captain's hand, there was another type of callus—located on the inner side of the web between the thumb and index finger, long and shaped, with a smooth surface.

That was a callus worn from long-term gripping of a sword hilt—holding a pen would not produce this shape.

Captains have no need to grip swords.

"Lu Changyuan—Sin Battalion."

He tossed a piece of dried seaweed into the campfire.

The dried seaweed curled up in the flames—burning to reveal a small, dark green flame core.

Chu Yunfei coughed—this time the sound of the cough was more muffled than before.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

As he turned his hand over, his sleeve slid down half an inch from his wrist—the half-inch of lining turned out from the inside of his collar was illuminated by the firelight.

Dark silver thread.

The thread was extremely fine—so fine that it was almost invisible when mixed into the ordinary gray cotton cloth.

But the dark patterns woven with silver thread would reflect a very faint silvery light under the firelight—just like the reflection of moonlight on the sea surface, a thin layer of silver floating on the gray background.

Dark silver thread is a weave of the Capital Military Department—frontline fortresses do not have this kind of thing.

A captain's military robe certainly wouldn't have a lining of dark silver thread.

Lu Changyuan shifted his gaze away from the dark silver thread.

Chu Yunfei withdrew his hand—his sleeve covered the dark silver thread.

He tossed a piece of dried seaweed into the campfire—the dried seaweed burned in the flames for three breaths.

He turned his head to look at Lu Changyuan—the spot he looked at was the collar of the old gray-blue cloth robe on Lu Changyuan's body.

The collar was worn and frayed—there was no trim, no spiritual patterns.

"The one you're wearing—it wasn't issued by the military."

"Woven by Blue Moon Island itself."

"Blue Moon Island?"

"The island I manage—in the direction of the Dragon Burial Trench."

Chu Yunfei nodded.

The nodding motion was very light—his chin dipped down less than half an inch before stopping.

Then he began to cough again.

This time, the coughing lasted longer than the previous two times—by the third cough, his whole body was hunched over, his back springing two inches off the sea rock.

His right hand grabbed the military robe on his knees—his fingers clawed five grooves into the fabric over his knees.

His left hand braced against the gravel ground by the campfire—as his palm pressed down, the gravel pierced into his palm.

The two men in gray opposite the campfire simultaneously sat up straight by an inch.

The first man pulled his left foot back by half a step—the sole of his shoe scraped against the gravel, making a faint sound.

The second man moved his hand out from his sleeve—moving it until his wrist was exposed, then pulled it back in.

Lu Changyuan saw it.

The spot he was watching was their act of sitting up—it wasn't a transition from relaxation to alertness, but from alertness to preparing to strike.

This meant they hadn't been relaxed in the first place.

Guards do not maintain an alert posture while resting—unless the person they are guarding is injured.

Chu Yunfei's coughing stopped.

He took his hand away from his mouth—palm facing down.

There was a streak of pale golden blood on his palm.

The blood streak flowed along the lines of his palm—flowing to the edge of his palm, where it was dried by the night wind.

A pale golden blood streak—not bright red, not dark red, but pale gold.

Only those who Cultivate fire-attribute Cultivation Techniques will cough up blood of this color when their Meridians suffer a backlash.

And for a fire-attribute Cultivation Technique to be practiced to the point where the blood is stained pale gold—it is at least the Golden Core Stage.

A captain does not possess a Golden Core Stage Cultivation Technique.

Lu Changyuan reached into his sleeve and pulled out that bottle of blood awakening pill—the bottle Gu He had stuffed into his hand this morning.

He unscrewed the cap—and poured one pill into his palm.

The pill was dark brown, shimmering with a faint deep brown hue in the yellow light of the campfire.

He handed the pill over.

"It cannot cure the root cause—but it can settle the fire poison in your Meridians for one night."

Chu Yunfei lowered his head to look at the pill.

He looked at it for about three breaths—the spot he looked at was the rough texture on the surface of the pill.

Then he glanced across the campfire—the two men in gray on the other side of the fire did not move.

He took the pill—holding it between his thumb and index finger.

He did not swallow it immediately.

He put the pill under his nose and sniffed it—his brow furrowed—and then he smiled.

The smile flickered at the edge of the campfire.

"This thing smells—like burnt, rotten seaweed."

"It's even worse to eat—it hurts. Ten breaths."

Chu Yunfei put the pill into his mouth.

He swallowed it.

Then his body hunched over—hunched in the same way as that Spirit Mouse in the cage.

His hand gripped the military robe on his knees—gripping it so hard that his finger joints protruded from beneath his skin.

He was in pain.

The first man in gray opposite the campfire stood up.

When he stood up, his knees did not bend—it wasn't a standing up, it was a springing up.

His right hand had already reached into his sleeve—something inside the sleeve was pushing outward.

Chu Yunfei raised his left hand—waving his palm outward.

The man in gray stopped.

The movement of stopping was as fast as standing up—there was no transition between springing up and standing still.

Chu Yunfei closed his eyes—the eyeballs beneath his eyelids were moving.

He was circulating his Qi.

About five breaths passed—a very faint gurgling sound came from his throat, like water blocked by an air bubble in a pipe and then flowing through again.

At the tenth breath—his shoulders dropped half an inch from his ears.

The twitching that had been pushing outward from inside his chest stopped.