117: Chapter 117 Still Want to Set the Fire?

The young Summoner struck while the iron was hot and walked up to Tie Shan:

"Minister Tie, since this tree can respond to our needs and grow into whatever shape we want, does that mean we won't need to cut down trees in the future? We Summoners can communicate with it and let it grow into treehouses itself."

Tie Shan waved his large hand: "If it can build houses itself, why should we bother with all that effort!" He paused, then added, "But it seems only you Summoners can do this. We'll surely have to trouble you for building treehouses in the future."

A dozen Summoners said in unison: "We are willing! Just call us whenever there's a need like this, we'll be there!"

That excitement was genuine.

Having been in Flower City for so long, the Summoners felt for the first time that they had found an irreplaceable position—not on the battlefield, but in construction.

Zhou Yun stood outside the crowd, slightly tilting his head upward.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, dappling his gentle, jade-like face.

He looked at the treehouse that was five meters off the ground and perfectly integrated with the giant tree, then touched the old copper key tied with a faded red string in his pocket, a very gentle smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

No need for quarrying, no need for logging, just a seed and a word of communication.

He could almost see the scene in the near future where the whole city would be filled with treehouses.

...

The news spread faster than the wind.

In less than an hour, a long line had formed on the ridge of the field.

Countless townspeople came rushing over with hoes, bamboo baskets on their backs, and children in their arms, surrounding the treehouse so tightly that not even water could pass through, scrambling to peek inside.

"I want one too!"

"Summoner brother, please help! There are six of us in my family, can it grow three stories?"

...

The dozen Summoners were surrounded by the enthusiastic crowd and pushed towards the fields of various families.

At first, they were a bit flustered, but they quickly found the knack—before each person pressed against the trunk, they would chat with the owner for a bit: how many people in the family, whether they needed partitions, which way the windows should face, whether the stairs should be on the left or the right.

Then they would close their eyes, press their palms against it, and convey these needs to Little Jianmu one by one.

Little Jianmu's response was different every time.

Some treehouses grew wide balconies that extended from the second floor, perfect for drying clothes; some had large semi-circular doorways opened on the ground floor to make it easy for wheelbarrows to enter and exit; one young couple blushed and said they wanted two bedrooms, so an extra partition wall grew out from the inner wall of the trunk, seamless and tight.

One, two, five, ten...

Giant trees rose one after another in the fields, their canopies interweaving in mid-air, casting large areas of shade.

Looking from afar, it was as if a treehouse village had suddenly grown in the wasteland, each one different, yet all possessing the roundness and warmth unique to living things.

The townspeople couldn't wait to scramble into their new treehouses.

Someone sat down on a wooden couch that had grown from the inner wall, bounced on it vigorously, and shouted in surprise: "It's ten times more comfortable than a stone bed!"

Someone peered out the window, the edges of the window frame round and smooth, touching it over and over again, their face full of disbelief.

Children ran up and down the spiral staircase, the thumping footsteps and laughter mixing together.

An old woman with graying hair stood at the entrance of the treehouse, looking up at the sky-covering canopy above her head, and suddenly smiled:

"This is great, the house won't get wet even when it rains. It blocks the wind in winter, shades from the sun in summer, and we can go downstairs to work in the fields at any time. It's practically tailor-made for us farmers!"

Someone nearby echoed: "But it can't grow too high, or it'll block the light for the fields behind."

"No need to worry about that." The young Summoner who had rushed out first to protect the tree walked over, wiping sweat from his forehead, his tone filled with a touch of pride, "We can communicate with Little Jianmu to control its growth height and the extension direction of the canopy, so it won't affect the lighting of the surroundings."

Everyone nodded repeatedly, more and more satisfied with the treehouses the more they looked.

Just as things were lively, a man in the crowd suddenly scratched his head and shouted loudly:

"Everything is good, but we can't light a fire to cook, right? This is wood, what if it catches fire?"

This remark was like a bucket of cold water, and the surrounding noise instantly died down.

That's right, no matter how good the treehouse was, if you couldn't even eat a hot meal after moving in, it was still missing something.

Someone subconsciously looked at the inner wall of the treehouse—the gentle wood grain was indeed beautiful, but it was indeed... wood.

Minister Wang Fugui was the first to jump out: "Simple! Just build a stone stove outside the treehouse!"

"What about when it rains?" someone nearby retorted.

"Build a shed to cover it..."

"Then how is that different from living in a stone house? A perfectly good treehouse, and you want to build an ugly stone shed outside?"

Minister Wang Fugui was choked up and didn't say anything.

The young Summoner hesitated for a moment, then turned and pressed his hand against the trunk again.

This communication took much longer than before, his brows furrowing and relaxing, beads of sweat on his forehead becoming denser.

After about half an incense stick of time, he opened his eyes, the expression on his face somewhat complex.

"It says... it can."

The surroundings immediately fell silent.

"Little Jianmu can grow a hollow thin-branch pipe from the inside, specifically for transporting flames. The inner wall of the pipe will continuously secrete a layer of moist water film to insulate heat and protect the surrounding living wood from being scorched."

He paused and added, "But it said that doing this requires consuming a lot of water. However, as long as the water source is sufficient, the pipe will be fine."

"Water is easy to handle!" Tie Shan's eyes lit up, "Once the Ganlan Mountain reservoir is built, there will be plenty of water!"

"Wait," the young Summoner waved his hand, his excitement replaced by a hint of difficulty, "The pipe problem is solved, but what about the fire source? We can't ask a Fire Mage to come and light it every time we cook, they are too busy."

That was indeed a problem.

Everyone looked at each other, at a loss for ideas.

Tie Shan rubbed his chin, deep in thought, and a dozen craftsmen huddled together whispering, but no one could come up with a reliable plan.

"Biogas."

A cold, clear voice came from behind the crowd.

Everyone turned back to see Wan'er standing on the ridge of the field, holding a record book, her expression calm.

Minister Wang Fugui looked blank: "What gas?"

"Biogas." Wan'er opened the book in her hand and pointed her finger at a certain page.

"When registering refugees, a group of people came from villages on the edge of the swamp. I verified their skill files, and some of them had used rotting straw and livestock manure to ferment flammable gas for lighting and heating. The principle is very simple—excrement ferments in a sealed environment and produces a gas that can burn."

She closed the book and scanned the surroundings: "If Little Jianmu can isolate a sealed chamber underground to collect and ferment the excrement, and then transport the produced biogas to the inside of the treehouse through thin-branch pipes, with a switch set at the pipe opening—closed normally, and opened to light a fire when needed, the problem of the fire source would be solved!"