158: Chapter 158 Battlefield Sales: Miraculous Drugs Show Their Power (1)

At the very back of the tent, an iron pot sat—underneath it, a few fragments of reef rocks picked up from the seaside were burning.

The reef fragments were scorched red by the fire but produced no open flame—the medicinal soup in the pot bubbled over the smoldering fire, and the scent released when the bubbles burst was bitter.

The yellowish-brown medicinal soup—after simmering for most of the day, its color had shifted from yellow to brown, and the bitterness drifted out from the pot.

The military doctor crouched beside the iron pot—an old man in his early fifties, his gray-white beard stained yellow by the smoke from the pot's rim.

He slowly stirred the pot with a copper ladle—the copper ladle scraped against the bottom of the pot, emitting a very faint metallic friction sound.

He scooped a ladle of medicinal soup from the pot and poured it onto the bandage on the lower leg of the wounded soldier lying on the ground.

The medicinal soup seeped down through the bandage—once it soaked in, the dark purple at the edge of the ulceration receded a tiny bit.

The wounded soldier's lower leg twitched when the medicinal soup was poured on—then the ulceration continued to spread outward.

This pot of medicinal soup could only slow the speed of the ulceration—it didn't reduce the fever, didn't stop the rot, it just bought half a day of life.

Lu Changyuan found the left-wing Quartermaster at the back of the tent.

The Quartermaster was a middle-aged man in his forties—wearing the dark gray military robe of the Logistics Department, the cuffs of the robe worn to the point of fraying.

He was crouching behind a low table made of ammunition crates—piled on the low table were four or five rosters of wounded soldiers.

Some of the names on the rosters were crossed out with red ink—next to the crossed-out names was a line of small text: Died within three days.

He looked up at Lu Changyuan—his gaze fixed on the Logistics Supervision Department insignia on the collar of Lu Changyuan's military robe.

"Are you from the newly arrived transport battalion? Unload the goods at the Pier and put them in the warehouse—"

"I'm not here to unload cargo." Lu Changyuan took two items out of his sleeve—a porcelain bottle of Gu He's blood awakening pill, and a bottle of Blue Moon Island's purification liquid. "Take a look at this."

The Quartermaster glanced at the porcelain bottle. The bottle was sealed with two layers of Array Pattern—dark red on the inside, ice blue on the outside.

He had never seen this type of seal in the fortress logistics depot—the military standard medicine bottles were only sealed with a single layer of waterproof Array Pattern; those with two layers were all custom-made.

He took the porcelain bottle—and touched the sealing Array Pattern on the bottle cap with his thumb.

The spiritual power of the Array Pattern was still present—indicating that this bottle of medicine had not been opened since it was sealed by the Array Pattern.

Then he also took the bottle of purification liquid and glanced at it—the flow of the Array Pattern on the bottle body was different from the military standard purification liquid; the lines were denser and shallower.

"Did you refine this yourself?"

"Refined by someone on my island."

The Quartermaster turned the porcelain bottle over—there was no inspection seal from the Logistics Bureau on the bottom of the bottle.

Medicine without a military seal needed to be tested before being placed on the official military list—this was an unwritten rule in the army.

He placed the porcelain bottle on the low table—stood up, and walked a few steps toward the tent entrance.

He crouched down beside a wounded soldier lying on a stretcher—the soldier's lower leg had been ulcerated for three days, and the wound on the front of the lower leg, cut open by a fish bone knife, had spread from three fingers wide to almost the entire front of the lower leg.

The edge of the ulceration was a dark purple line—outside the line was the dark red that was still spreading outward, inside the line was the grayish-green that had already begun to fester, and the very center of the wound surface had turned black.

The wounded soldier's eyes were open—the eyeballs were bulging slightly from the sockets, and the high fever had turned the whites of his eyes a pale yellow.

"Where did you find this—" The Quartermaster pointed to the soldier's lower leg. "This one—the one among the three legs with the most severe ulceration."

Lu Changyuan poured a blood awakening pill out of the porcelain bottle. It was a blackish-brown pill—the size of a fingernail, with a rough surface.

He broke off half a pill—and stuffed the half into the wounded soldier's mouth. The soldier swallowed it.

Then, the wounded soldier's body arched on the stretcher.

His back sprang up from the stretcher—his spine arched into a curve, his occiput and heels pressed against the stretcher surface, and his belly pushed upward.

His fingers gripped the wooden bars on both sides of the stretcher—gripping so hard that his knuckles protruded from beneath the skin, and the wooden bars emitted a faint creaking sound under his grip.

He was in pain—the intensity of the pain wrenched him out of the state of having made no sound for three days.

The Quartermaster retreated half an inch—after retreating, he stopped again. He did not turn his face away—he was watching.

Five breaths. The wounded soldier's back began to lower. It wasn't that he lowered it himself—it was that the muscles of his spine relaxed after the peak of the pain had passed.

His fingers were still gripping the stretcher's wooden bars, but the intensity of the grip had changed from a tight clench to just resting.

A very long exhalation came from his throat—the breath was squeezed out from deep in his throat, and the resulting sound was like a deflating rubber ball leaking air.

Eight breaths. The edge of the ulceration on the soldier's lower leg—that dark purple line—began to fade.

It wasn't fading quickly—fading from dark purple to dark red, and from dark red to light red.

The light red edge contracted toward the wound—the half-finger of ulceration that spread outward every day was receding.

Ten breaths. At the lowest part of the soldier's lower leg—near the ankle—the area of ulceration had shrunk by nearly one-third.

The surface where it had receded had dried into a very thin layer of dark red scab—the scab was not thick, but it was dry.

Dry meant that the subcutaneous tissue fluid was no longer seeping out. The ulceration had stopped.

The fever hadn't subsided—the wounded soldier's forehead was still hot, and the whites of his eyes were still yellow. But the wound was no longer spreading outward.

The Quartermaster crouched down. His movement of crouching was very slow—knees bent first, hands rested on his knees, and then his body sank down.

He crouched beside the stretcher—his face less than a foot away from the wounded soldier's lower leg.

He watched for a long time—observing the dryness of the ulceration edge, watching the way the soldier's leg, which had been kicking for three days, finally lay flat on the stretcher surface.

Then he stood up—his kneecap popped as he rose.

He walked back to the low table, picked up the porcelain bottle—and looked at the bottom of the bottle again.

The Quartermaster's gaze had changed—before, he was looking at a bottle of unknown things; now, he was looking to see if he could get more.

"This medicine—how much do you have on hand?"

"Eighty pills." Lu Changyuan took the porcelain bottle back—as the Quartermaster's eyes followed the movement of the porcelain bottle, he put it back into his sleeve. "The entire production for this month."

The Quartermaster looked at him for three breaths. "You said just now that it was refined by people on an island—then wouldn't it be fine to just increase production next month?"

"It can't be increased." Lu Changyuan also put the bottle of purification liquid back into his sleeve. "Refining this medicine requires a type of grass—it can only be harvested at a specific tide level on Blue Moon Island."

"During the five days of the great low tide every month, the grass is exposed from the crevices of the reef. After those five days, when the tide rises back and the grass is soaked in seawater—most of the medicinal properties dissipate."

"The fresh grass harvested can only be used in the current month—it cannot be stockpiled. If left for a month, the medicinal properties are gone."

"Plus the rate of exploding furnaces during refining—one batch is ruined for every three batches refined—eighty pills is the limit for this month. Next month will also be eighty pills. Not a single extra pill can be produced."