242: Chapter 242 Remnants Enter Port, Contribution Point System

Elder He read the wartime regulations on the bulletin board from beginning to end twice.

The first time he read it quickly—just glancing over it. The second time he read it slowly—reading every word from the first to the third rule. When he reached the words "Methods for Obtaining contribution points," his lips moved slightly, as if he were chewing over the word "Contribution."

Then he withdrew his gaze from the bulletin board—looking back at Leng Feng.

"Where is the person in charge on your island?"

Leng Feng did not reply. He hung his observation lens at his waist, his sword sheath buckle still unfastened—and tilted his head toward the north side of the Pier. Elder He looked in the direction he indicated—on the stone steps at the north corner of the Pier, a young man wearing a deep black military robe was walking down from the Ring Reef. The military robe had no trim, no rank insignia, and the cuffs were stained with old traces of charcoal powder and Formation ink—as if he had just come out of the Chart Room. Behind him followed a porter with half a little finger missing, who was carrying three spare shields, the shields clattering with a dull metallic sound against his shoulders.

"Lu Changyuan—Lord of Blue Moon Island."

Lu Changyuan stood firm on the stone slabs of the Pier. He chose his position between Leng Feng and the bulletin board—about five steps from Elder He and about three steps from the bulletin board. This distance meant Elder He could neither bypass him to look directly at the bulletin board nor ignore the bright red Lord's seal on it.

Elder He sized him up for nearly three breaths—from the military robe to the cuffs to his standing posture. The cuffs of his military robe bore none of the insignias from the Capital Ministry of War. His stance was not that of a soldier—his center of gravity did not lean forward, and his feet were spread flat, like someone who had spent years standing before a chart table. However, his hands hung at his sides—his fingers slightly curled, with calluses on his knuckles from long-term pen usage.

"Lord of a Grade D Stronghold." Elder He shifted the oilcloth-wrapped Formation diagrams from under his arm to his left hand—freeing his right hand to point to his own Ministry of War Array Bureau attendant badge. "I am He Pingchuan—an attendant of the Capital Ministry of War Array Bureau. The twelve of us came from the Capital with the naval fleet—our auxiliary ship was sunk by an Abyssal Beast, and over half our equipment was lost. We now require stone houses for accommodation, equipment drying, hot water, and clean replacement clothing. Furthermore—" He turned back to glance at the group of soaking wet Array Master and Talisman masters behind him, "We need Spirit Rice and Medicinal Pills. Two people had their legs scratched by broken sampan boards."

Lu Changyuan did not respond. He shifted his gaze away from Elder He—scanning the dozen or so people on the Pier one by one. Three young Array Master were wringing the seawater from the corners of their robes—the cloth robes were gray-blue, the same color as the standard robes of the Capital Array Bureau, but the fabric had been washed until it was faded white. Two middle-aged Talisman masters were squatting on the stone slabs of the Pier, checking the Talismans ruined by seawater—the cinnabar patterns on the Talismans were blurred into a mass of dark red, like bloodstains washed away by water. The three at the very back, who were carrying the iron-wood chests, were sitting on the ground catching their breath—the Ministry of War Array Bureau seal on the chests had its edges wrinkled by the seawater, but the blue filing stamp was still legible.

"There are stone houses." Lu Changyuan's voice was not heavy—mingling with the footsteps of the old soldiers from the Sin Battalion carrying shields on the Pier. "Spirit Rice and Medicinal Pills—we have those too. But they will not be given according to your demands."

Elder He's finger stopped on his Array Bureau badge.

"What did you say?"

"The island's rules." Lu Changyuan tilted his head toward the bulletin board—the ink of the second wartime rule on the board had not yet fully dried, and Su Qingli's handwriting reflected slightly under the light of the cold light stone. "No participation in defense—no allocation of Spirit Rice, no allocation of Medicinal Pills, no allocation of beds. Participate in defense—calculated by contribution points."

The young Array Master behind Elder He stopped wringing their robes. The two middle-aged Talisman masters squatting on the ground looked up—still clutching the blurred Talismans in their hands. An old Formation Master with a blank Formation Plate hanging at his waist squeezed from the back of the crowd to the front—seawater still hung from his beard, and a copper thimble for carving Formations was fitted onto his right thumb. He turned the copper thimble half a circle.

"contribution points? What is this—some merchant guild points?"

The handwriting on the bulletin board was dazzlingly clear under the cold light stone lamp—Rule Three: Emergency repairs to the Formation base, ten points; drawing a Tier 3 Talisman, three points; carving a Formation Plate, five points; standing guard at the reef, two points.

After reading the words on the bulletin board, He Pingchuan remained silent for about five breaths. Then he tucked the Formation diagrams back under his arm—and tapped the bottom line of text on the bulletin board with his right index finger.

"I have sat in the attendant's chair at the Array Bureau for nearly forty years. From the Foundation Establishment Stage, I drew Tier 3 Talismans until the Golden Core Stage—I have drawn no fewer than thirty thousand. You are telling me now—that drawing a single Tier 3 Talisman at your Grade D Stronghold is only worth three contribution points?"

"Three points—on this island, that can be exchanged for a pot of hot water, a portion of Spirit Rice, and a bed." Lu Changyuan's voice had no fluctuation. "If you do not draw—that is also fine. No Spirit Rice. Boil your own hot water. For a bed—the stone slabs on the Pier are dry."

Someone in the group of Array Master behind He Pingchuan gasped—it was the old Formation Master with the blank Formation Plate at his waist. His copper thimble turned another half-circle on his finger—this time, it turned nearly twice as fast as before.

"Do you know who we are—"

"I know." Lu Changyuan interrupted him. His tone was not heavy—but the interruption came exactly before the old Formation Master could take his second breath, leaving the second half of his sentence choked in his throat. "You are attendants of the Capital Ministry of War Array Bureau. You came with the naval fleet to the Zhenhai Fortress—your auxiliary ship was sunk, but your equipment and Formation diagrams remain. You can draw Formation Plates, carve Jade Talismans, and draw high-level Talismans—every one of these things is useful on this island. That is why there are contribution points—and why there is Spirit Rice and a bed."

He shifted his gaze from the old Formation Master back to He Pingchuan.

"If you do not draw—you are of no use to Blue Moon Island. People of no use—in wartime, receive no Spirit Rice, no Medicinal Pills, and no beds. This is the island's rule—it is the same for everyone."

The Pier fell silent. The old soldiers of the Sin Battalion were still moving shields—an old soldier carrying two shields walked past behind He Pingchuan, the soles of his shoes scraping a hoarse sound against the stone slabs. He Pingchuan looked at Lu Changyuan—for nearly ten breaths. Then he pulled the Formation diagrams out from under his arm—and held them with both hands again.

"Give us the stone houses first. The equipment must be dried—the Formation diagrams cannot get damp."

Lu Changyuan did not move.

"There are stone houses. In the outer perimeter of the inner city—near the Formation Affairs Room. There are three in total—you twelve will have to squeeze in."

"Three rooms?" The old Formation Master with the copper thimble behind He Pingchuan pulled the thimble off his thumb—clutching it in his hand. "At the Capital Array Bureau—each of us has an independent Formation ink room. Twelve people in three stone houses—do you take us for laborers of the Sin Battalion?"

"The Sin Battalion lives in wooden sheds." Leng Feng spoke up—his voice coming from behind He Pingchuan. He did not turn around—the observation lens still hung at his waist, and the sword sheath buckle was still unfastened. "Stone houses are for those who participate in the defense. You have not yet participated."

The old Formation Master with the copper thimble turned around—wanting to say something—but was stopped by He Pingchuan raising his hand.

"Three rooms it is." He Pingchuan held the Formation diagrams tightly. "Lead the way first."

Lu Changyuan called a porter—the one with half a little finger missing—to lead the twelve people from the north corner of the Pier into the outer perimeter of the inner city. The stone houses were next to the Formation Affairs Room—three in a row, with traces of previously stored Materials for repairing Formation bases still remaining on the stone walls. The stone houses were not large—each could hold four or five beds—the beds were dry grass spread on stone slabs, with no mattresses. A small window was opened on the roof of the stone house—the sea breeze poured in through the small window, blowing the dust that had accumulated for who knows how long in the stone house, causing it to swirl on the ground.

He Pingchuan stood at the doorway of the stone house—glancing at the dry grass beds inside—without entering. He placed the oilcloth-wrapped Formation diagrams on the driest stone slab, then turned to look at the room next door.

Next door was the Formation Affairs Room. The door to the Formation Affairs Room was closed—a pale blue-white cold light shone from beneath the door crack. The cold light was not the color of the cold light stone lamp—it was that extremely faint, translucent blue-white light emitted after Spirit Marrow was integrated into a Formation base, exactly the same as the light of the blue-white sword filaments outside the Ring Reef. He Pingchuan stared at that door crack for about three breaths—then the cold light beneath the door crack dimmed. Someone was moving inside—blocking the light source.

Then the door to the Formation Affairs Room opened a crack. Su Qingli poked half her face out from the door crack—her fingers still pressing on the Receiving Formation plate inside the door, her fingertips stained with charcoal powder. She glanced at He Pingchuan—without coming out to greet him—and directly closed the door again. When the door closed, the friction sound of the door hinge was extremely light, as if deliberately avoiding letting people hear the sounds inside.

He Pingchuan withdrew his gaze from the door of the Formation Affairs Room.

"Bring the chests in first." He pointed to the iron-wood chest with the Ministry of War Array Bureau seal. "Open it and check—see if the Formation ink Materials have been soaked."

After the iron-wood chest was opened, it was wrapped in three layers of oilcloth—the outermost layer of oilcloth had been soaked through by seawater, but the inner two layers were dry. The Formation ink Materials in the chest were divided into twelve small compartments by color—cinnabar red, mysterious stone black, lapis lazuli blue, seashell off-white—and the formula ratio was marked with a charcoal pencil on the lid of each compartment. At the bottom of the chest were pressed over thirty blank Jade Talismans—the polished patterns on the surface of the Jade Talismans had not been damaged by the seawater.

He Pingchuan checked the Formation ink Materials compartment by compartment. After checking the last compartment, he closed the chest lid—pressing his finger on the seal on the chest lid. The blue filing stamp on the seal was the same color as his badge—the standard blue-green of the Capital Ministry of War Array Bureau.

"The items are not damaged." He moved his hand away from the chest lid. "But it is too damp here. The small window on the roof of the stone house cannot be closed—if closed, it will not be ventilated. If left open—the sea breeze will pour salt mist inside. The Formation ink Materials will harden into clumps if left in the salt mist for three days."

"Then what do you think should be done?" The old Formation Master with the copper thimble was squatting in the corner of the stone house—wiping the seawater stains off the copper thimble with his sleeve.

"Make them change to another place—at least seal half the window." He Pingchuan stood up—walked to the doorway of the stone house and looked out. The old soldiers of the Sin Battalion on the Pier were still moving shields—the shields were stacked three layers high on the stone platform of the Pier, with a layer of oilcloth covering the top of the stack to prevent waves. No one looked over here.

[part:gemini-3.5-flash]

He turned around and walked back into the stone house, sitting down on the straw bedding. The eleven other people in the stone house had already taken their spots—some sat cross-legged in meditation, some continued to inspect waterlogged Talisman papers, and some used the corners of their clothes to wipe the bronze pens used for carving Array Patterns. Not a single person touched the stack of blank mission bamboo slips placed at the entrance—which Leng Feng had sent over for registering to participate in the defense mission.

"Elder He—are we really not going to draw Talismans?" a young Formation master asked in a low voice. The right sleeve of his cloth robe was wrinkled from being soaked in seawater—the old stains of array ink on his cuff had bled from the seawater.

"No," He Pingchuan laid the array diagram on his knees, his hand pressing down on the oilcloth. "They are just setting down rules right now. Once the rules are set, if no one follows them, they will naturally come to us to negotiate. Grade D outposts are short on Array Master during wartime—they are more anxious than we are."

The young Formation master opened his mouth, glanced at the stack of blank bamboo slips at the entrance, and closed it again.

He Pingchuan's judgment seemed correct for the first half-hour. No one came to urge them. The sound of moving shields on the Pier continued, occasionally mixed with the sound of Commander Cai's tobacco pipe tapping against the stone slabs. The door to the Formation Affairs Room remained closed—the blue-white cold light flickering under the door crack had nearly doubled in frequency, indicating that Su Qingli was adjusting the array core inside.

Then, nearly half an hour later, footsteps were heard on the stone path outside the stone house. It wasn't just one person—there were three. He Pingchuan raised his head and looked out from the doorway of the stone house.

Lu Changyuan walked at the very front. Behind him followed Leng Feng and Su Qingli—Su Qingli held a roll of freshly written paper in her hand, its corners fluttering upward in the sea breeze. The three of them crossed the stone path of the Pier and stopped in front of the bulletin board. Leng Feng pulled out a stack of new announcement papers from a wooden box next to the bulletin board and smoothed them out. Su Qingli spread her roll of paper over it and added a few words at the top with a charcoal pencil. Lu Changyuan said something from the side, and Su Qingli nodded, adding a line of notes on the paper.

He Pingchuan stood up and walked to the doorway of the stone house.

On the bulletin board, next to the wartime regulations, a new announcement was posted. The handwriting of the new announcement's title was exactly the same as the regulations Su Qingli had written before—'Blue Moon Island Wartime Contribution Point System Rules'. Below, it clearly stated one thing: except for basic spiritual rice, high-grade Qi Gathering Pills, healing medicine, the safest stone house beds in the core area, and cultivation time slots in the Spirit Gathering Array—all required contribution points to redeem. The methods for obtaining contribution points were exactly the same as Article 3 of the regulations—ten points for rush-repairing the array base, three points for drawing third-order Talismans, five points for carving Formation Plates, and two points for guarding the reef at night. The required points for each item were written on the right.

He Pingchuan's gaze swept downward, landing on the bottom-most line of the redemption list.

"Spirit Gathering Array Cultivation Priority: 15 points per hour."

The old Formation master wearing copper finger guards behind him saw it too and let out a cold snort. "Spirit Gathering Array—we had no use for a Foundation Establishment Stage Spirit Gathering Array ten years ago. Fifteen points an hour—who cares."

He Pingchuan did not respond. His eyes were still fixed on the bottom line of the bulletin board—Su Qingli had added a footnote after the redemption list. The characters of the footnote were smaller than the main text, so small that He Pingchuan had to squint to see them clearly.

"Empty Stone House No. 3 next to the Formation Affairs Room—open from the hour of Mao tomorrow. Inside is kept one copy of the layout map of the ancient sealed array lines from the seabed of the Dragon Burial Trench, and one copy of the reaction records of spiritual marrow residue. Date of rubbing: two thousand years ago. Spiritual energy frequency and array ink formula have both been measured and labeled. Open to all defenders on the island—every fifty contribution points can be exchanged for reading time of one stick of incense. Every two hundred contribution points—allows one to listen to Elder Mo give a lecture on arrays. Elder Mo does not assume teaching duties—he just happens to be researching the ancient sealed Array Patterns in the adjacent Formation Affairs Room, and someone happens to be watching beside him."

He Pingchuan's lips moved—exactly the same as when he read the regulations on the Pier before—muttering the words 'two thousand years ago' in his mouth.

Then, the old Formation master wearing copper finger guards behind him slid the copper guards back onto his thumb—his movement was nearly twice as slow as when he had pulled them off earlier.

"An ancient array line rubbing from two thousand years ago—and reaction records of spiritual marrow residue?" His voice paused on the words 'spiritual marrow residue,' as if it was the first time he had ever spoken these words. "On this island... how could anyone have such things?"

"That man surnamed Mo." He Pingchuan's gaze was still on the announcement paper, his tone softer than ever before. "In the adjacent Formation Affairs Room—that man surnamed Mo."

All eleven people in the stone house crowded to the doorway. They looked at the small line of words on the bulletin board; no one spoke. He Pingchuan placed the array diagram in his hand onto the straw bedding and sat back down. His back rested against the stone wall, his fingers unconsciously tapping three times on his knee.

"Let's not move for now. Tomorrow at the hour of Mao—we will first go and see what exactly is placed in that reading room."

Night fell. The beast tide outside the reef had temporarily receded—the light of the blue-white sword silk withdrew from the outer side of the reef, and the sixteen array cores of the outer ring shifted to a low-consumption standby state. On the Pier, the stack of shields had already been piled up to the fourth tier—Commander Cai squatted next to the stack of shields with his tobacco pipe in his mouth, the red glow of the pipe tip brightening and dimming in the night.

He Pingchuan did not sleep. He sat cross-legged on the straw bedding, his back resting against the stone wall, his eyes closed. Most of the other eleven people in the stone house were meditating—only the old Formation master wearing copper finger guards was still standing by the window, slowly scratching the stone window frame with his copper guards, estimating the time it would take for the salt fog concentration to corrode the array-carving copper plates.

Then, a very soft hum came from the adjacent Formation Affairs Room.

It was not the sound of an array core activating. It was not the sound of the Killing Array's sword silk spinning. It was an extremely low-frequency spiritual energy resonance—a frequency so low that He Pingchuan initially thought something was wrong with his ears. He moved his back away from the stone wall, tilted his head, and aimed his left ear toward the adjacent room.

A second hum. It was more sustained than the first—not a pulse, but continuous. The vibration traveled from the stone wall of the Formation Affairs Room, through the stone bed base of the straw bedding, and into He Pingchuan's back. The frequency was wrong. The resonance frequency of an ordinary Formation Plate was thirty to fifty pulsations per breath—but the frequency of the vibration next door was nearly half of the standard. That was not a low frequency a Foundation Establishment Stage Formation Plate could achieve—only the low-energy state unique to ancient array patterns could emit such a frequency.

He Pingchuan stood up and silently walked to the side wall of the stone house. The stone wall shared the same load-bearing wall with the adjacent Formation Affairs Room—there was an extremely thin crack on the wall, less than half the width of a grain of rice. He pressed his right eye against the crack.

The cold light stone lamp in the adjacent Formation Affairs Room was dimmed to the lowest setting—the light was as dim as a dying ember. But a blue-white cold light filtered in from another light source—its color was lighter than the cold light stone lamp, leaning toward blue. On the stone platform in the center of the Formation Affairs Room lay a tiny shard of stone emitting a blue-white cold light—less than half a grain of rice in size, with an extremely fine metallic luster on its surface. The cold light shone outward from inside the shard, brightening and dimming in a certain rhythm—the intervals of brightening and dimming were fixed, with the duration of each dimming being exactly equal to the duration of its brightening. The frequency of the brightening and dimming was completely synchronized with the hum from just now.

Elder Mo's hand—an extremely thin but exceptionally steady hand—was holding this shard of spiritual marrow residue suspended over a yellowed rubbing paper. The color of the array ink lines on the rubbing paper was brownish—a rubbing pressed from the seabed stone slabs using ancient array ink two thousand years ago, with the dark brown color characteristic of ink oxidized over the years. The turning angles of the lines were different from any modern Array Patterns—every turn carried the closing arc unique to ancient Formations, and the number marked at the end of the arc was the spiritual energy frequency, with the unit being the 'rotations per breath' unique to ancient arrays. The Peak spiritual energy value was separately marked at the starting point of the arc.

Elder Mo was using a charcoal pencil to make annotations on the edge of the rubbing paper. What he wrote were not words—but groups of extremely small and dense Formation symbols, arranged in a way that was completely consistent with the lines of the two-thousand-year-old ancient array patterns. Each time he annotated a symbol, his fingers holding the spiritual marrow shard would move half an inch across the rubbing paper, letting the blue-white cold light illuminate the next segment of the lines.

He Pingchuan's brow pressed against the crack in the stone wall. His right eye widened, his pupil dilating to the maximum in the extremely dim light—and then he saw a scar exposed beneath Elder Mo's right cuff. It was not a sword wound—it was an energy burn scar from the backlash of an ancient array, the scar pattern spreading out like snake scales, extending from his wrist all the way to the middle of his forearm. This kind of scar would only be produced under one circumstance—being hit head-on by backlash energy while breaking the seal of an ancient array.

For someone whose Dantian was hit by backlash, their Realm would drop from its Peak. But the hand would not shake. Elder Mo's fingers holding the spiritual marrow shard were as steady as if he were carving characters on paper—the cold light of each spiritual marrow shard illuminated at least three inches of the lines on the rubbing paper, allowing the depth of every single trace of the lines to be clearly seen.

He Pingchuan moved his right eye away from the crack, his back leaning against the stone wall once more. His breathing frequency was nearly twice as fast as usual—but the sound of his breathing was extremely soft, so soft that none of the other people in the stone house opened their eyes from meditation.

He stared at the night sky outside the small window on the roof of the stone house for about five breaths. Then, he said a sentence in an extremely low voice—so low that only he could hear it.

"Elder Mo—he is here. How could he be in a Grade D outpost?"

Outside the window—on the sea surface in front of the Ring Reef, the debris belt left behind after the retreat of the first wave of the beast tide was still slowly dragging toward the Dragon Burial Trench in the ebbing tide. Scattered fragments of bone armor and broken bone spears floated on the sea—what reflected the moonlight was not seawater, but the dark green bodily fluids on the surface of the Abyssal Beast's shattered bones that had not yet dispersed.

He Pingchuan moved his back away from the stone wall and sat cross-legged again. He did not close his eyes—his eyes stared at the stack of blank bamboo slips at the entrance.

On the very top of the bamboo slips—Rush-repairing the array base: ten points.