150: Chapter 150 A Keen Eye for Talent, Making Friends Across Ranks (2)

He opened his eyes. The bloodshot threads in his eyes had faded by nearly half—the remaining threads had changed from dark red to a very pale pink. He looked down at his palms—the pale golden blood thread on his palm had dried, and its color had darkened a shade after drying.

"This medicine of yours—" His voice was steadier than before. His breathing had also stabilized—the rise and fall of his chest when exhaling was half as shallow as before. "It is not something from the military."

"It was refined by someone on my island."

"That person on your island—how long have they been refining it?"

"Eleven years—no one in the Military Medical Bureau was willing to use his prescription."

Chu Yunfei smoothed the military robe over his knees—the stroking motion was very slow, his fingers tracing the curve of his knees outwards. Then he looked up at Lu Changyuan. This look was different from before. Previously, his eyes were polite when looking at people—there was a curve to his mouth, and the muscles at the corners of his eyes were relaxed. This time, there was no curve to his mouth—the muscles at the corners of his eyes had tightened by half an inch. He was re-evaluating a person.

"That island of yours—is it southeast of Dragon Burial Trench?"

"Yes."

"Can you grow grain on the island?"

"Yes—what we grow ourselves is enough for the people on the island to eat."

Chu Yunfei was silent for about ten breaths. During the silence, he tossed four pieces of dried seaweed into the bonfire—one after another, his eyes fixed on the fire as he tossed them. The fourth piece of dried seaweed finished burning—the ash drifted up from the flames, floating for about three feet before being scattered by the sea breeze.

He fished an iron kettle from under the military register by his feet—the kettle was flat, its body pitted and dented, with a ring of copper welded around the mouth. He placed the iron kettle on the gravel ground beside the bonfire—the heat of the gravel ground caused the bottom of the kettle to emit a very faint sizzling sound. He then fished two pottery cups out of his sleeve—the cups were grayish-brown, with chipped rims, but a very thin layer of tea scale was embedded in the cracked patterns on the cup bodies. Old tea scale—this cup had been used for a long time.

He placed the pottery cups on the gravel ground. The water in the iron kettle boiled—steam sprayed out from the spout. Chu Yunfei aimed the spout at one of the pottery cups—what poured out was not water, but spirit tea. As the spirit tea poured out of the iron kettle, a tea leaf got stuck in the spout—Chu Yunfei used his fingernail to poke the tea leaf in. The tea soup was dark green—shimmering with a very faint cyan tint in the yellow light of the bonfire.

He pushed one of the pottery cups toward Lu Changyuan. The motion of pushing the cup was very light—the bottom of the pottery cup scraped against the gravel ground, making three short, crisp sounds, and stopped an inch in front of Lu Changyuan's toe.

"I've been in the fortress for three months—you are the first person who hasn't asked me why I am crouching by the bonfire coughing up blood alone."

"You coughing up blood is your business—asking wouldn't make you any better."

Chu Yunfei picked up his own pottery cup—he didn't drink. He touched the rim of the cup to his lower lip. "Ten years ago, I came to Zhenhai Fortress for the first time—the Array Pattern on the fortress wall was drawn by my Master." He put the cup back. "I haven't been here for ten years—the Array Pattern is still the same."

Lu Changyuan took a sip of the spirit tea. The tea was bitter—the bitterness lingered at the root of his tongue, then returned with a very faint aftertaste of sweetness. He placed the cup on his knee. He didn't ask who Chu Yunfei's Master was—a captain's Master wouldn't draw Array Patterns on the fortress wall.

The two sat by the bonfire until late at night. The sea breeze shifted from the east to the north—the salty taste in the wind faded, bringing in a chill of deep water drifting from the direction of Dragon Burial Trench. Chu Yunfei tucked the military register into his sleeve—as he did, the pale golden blood thread on the cover of the military register had completely dried, leaving a very fine dark golden mark on the cover after drying—like a red-hot needle tip having pricked the paper.

"Brother Lu—" Chu Yunfei stood up. His kneecap clicked as he stood. "I will be staying in the fortress for a while longer. If your Sin Battalion is lacking anything—you can come find me."

When he said "come find me," his tone was the same as when he said "have a cup of tea." Then he turned and walked to the other side of the gravel ground—the two men in gray on the other side of the bonfire stood up simultaneously. The three of them walked side by side behind the sea rocks at the edge of the gravel ground—the sea rocks blocked their backs from view.

Lu Hu stepped half a step forward from behind. He lowered his voice—low enough for only Lu Changyuan's ears to hear. "Young Lord—that person's attendant—the gravel under his feet didn't shift position from the moment he sat down until he stood up. Golden Core Stage."

"I know."

"His collar—"

"Dark silver thread—weaving from the Royal Capital's Military Department." Lu Changyuan poured the last drop of spirit tea from the pottery cup into his mouth. "He practices a fire-attribute Cultivation Technique—to be able to reach the level where blood threads are dyed gold, he must at least be at the Golden Core Stage. The Grain Supervision Office of the Military Department does not have Golden Core Stage captains."

"Who is he?"

Lu Changyuan placed the pottery cup on the gravel ground—next to the spot where Chu Yunfei had placed his cup just moments ago.

A very thin layer of grayish-blue appeared on the horizon—seeping up from beneath the sea surface, washing the horizon from black-gray to blue-gray. The wind picked up—the morning breeze poured from the sea into the camp, causing the canvas on the tents to flap loudly. The bronze horn in the Sin Battalion camp sounded—the person blowing the horn was no longer the one with the raspy voice from three days ago, and the sound of the horn extended from the base of the camp's flagpole to every tent, with people lifting the tent flaps and walking out from every tent.

Lu Changyuan stood up from the bonfire. Lu Hu took a suit of battle armor from the Storage Pouch—a lightweight version of the dark golden heavy armor, with plates one-third thinner than the original version, but the Array Pattern on the plates was the same. Lu Changyuan put on the battle armor—the buckles of the plates locked from his shoulders down to his waist, and when he locked the fourth one, Lu Hu reached out to help him fasten the hook on the inside of the belt.

Above the central parade ground of the fortress in the distance—a giant Formation Plate transmitted the mobilization order downwards along the Array Pattern. This time, the dark golden ripple did not fade when it reached the Sin Battalion's flagpole—the flag at the top of the pole was shaken fully open by the ripple, and the flag surface flapped in the sea breeze once before snapping taut again.

Lu Changyuan walked to the entrance of the Sin Battalion camp. People were already standing at the entrance—Commander Cai stood in the first row, the old scar on his face appearing deeper than usual in the grayish-blue morning light. Behind him was a phalanx of two thousand seven hundred men—the edges of the phalanx were no longer swaying. Standing in the very center of the phalanx was Xue Mingyuan—wearing the new armor plates issued yesterday, holding that new sword in his hand. His hand was not shaking.