Chapter Four: The Work of the Court Clerk

"Xither."

"Yes," Gong Hao replied. "I happened to have some free time, so I thought I'd come see if you needed any help."

"Alright, Xither." Gong Hao walked toward the pond.

"Be careful of its teeth—they're razor sharp, it's a piranha!" Xither shouted, while the caged berserk bear let out an impatient roar. Flustered, Xither tossed in a large chunk of fresh meat and several pieces of amethyst crystal. The former would sate the bear’s hunger, and the latter would help heal its wounds—it had just been drained of a considerable amount of blood.

After a spell of busy work, Xither finally finished his tasks. Seeing that it was still early, he said gratefully, "Thank you so much, Glayle. I had a huge load of materials to deal with today and was run off my feet. I’m glad you came to help."

"Actually, I didn’t come just to help. I had something to discuss with you. But when I saw you busy, I didn’t want to interrupt and decided to lend a hand instead."

"Is that so? Then tell me, what is it?"

"Could you give me a pen and some paper?"

"What do you need those for?" Xither was puzzled.

"To keep records. You know how those important people always mention what they need for tomorrow, and then just leave. If we’re too busy and forget, what then? I’d rather write it down... You know I can read and write."

Xither understood. "I really envy you for being literate. I’ll ask Lord Andrew for pen and paper; it’s no big deal. We’ve rarely had literate servants here, so keeping lists was pointless."

"Thank you so much." Gong Hao thought that his greatest stroke of luck after crossing into this world was that Hugh Glayle could read.

As he was leaving, Gong Hao said to Xither, "If you’re ever overwhelmed again, don’t hesitate to call me."

"That would be wonderful!" Xither replied happily.

Early the next morning, Xither brought Gong Hao paper and a pen.

Gong Hao started diligently recording the growth conditions of all the magical plants in his greenhouse.

Indeed, Gong Hao hadn’t asked for pen and paper just to jot down material inventories—that was secondary. His real goal was to meticulously observe, study, and analyze the growth of these magical plants.

There was one thing Gong Hao couldn’t understand.

Many of the magical plants in the greenhouse were on the brink of extinction. The servants had to tend to them with utmost care, harvesting materials without letting them die. But if that was the case, why not nurture them properly?

It seemed the master alchemist who spent all his days holed up in his tower had no habit of sowing seeds for knowledge or wealth. From Hugh’s memories, Gong Hao realized that the entire Wind Roaring Continent lacked any concept of preparing for the future. They reveled in plunder, relying on brute strength to snatch from others rather than producing for themselves.

Perhaps this was the true reason for the decline of alchemy. Otherwise, with artificial cultivation, these nearly extinct magical plants could flourish once more.

Gong Hao tried to care for the magical plants even more attentively.

Today, Gong Hao happily discovered that out of the forty-two magical plants he tended, one had matured and borne seed.

The Blood Orchid that once consumed a piece of his flesh had now repaid him.

His wound had yet to fully heal.

A bright red magical seed lay in his palm, glowing with an eerie crimson light.

If he could get it to grow, he would never again have to worry about the Blood Orchid's extinction if the plant died.

No sooner thought than done.

Gong Hao went to Xither to ask for a flowerpot. When Xither asked why, Gong Hao told him, but Xither shook his head. "It’s completely pointless, Glayle. Blood Orchids are extremely difficult to cultivate. As seedlings, they already crave blood and flesh, and it has to be fresh."

"I can feed them."

"But that doesn’t mean they’ll survive. Every magical plant is sentient—they absorb elemental essence to nurture themselves and are exceedingly delicate in their early stages, prone to dying. The chances of success are slim."

"But I want to try."

"Well, if you insist, I’ll get you a pot—as thanks for helping me out," Xither agreed, albeit reluctantly.

"Best make it a large one."

"Why?"

"I feel a spacious environment would benefit it."

Xither gave him a strange look. "You really are an odd one."

Gong Hao smiled brightly.

That night, Xither arrived at Area 13 with a large flowerpot.

To his surprise, Andrew had also come.

"I heard the Blood Orchid has produced a seed, and you intend to cultivate it?" Andrew’s voice was cold and sinister.

Gong Hao considered his words carefully before replying, "Lord Andrew, I’ve heard the Blood Orchid is already extinct on Wind Roaring Continent. I thought... perhaps I could grow another. That way, when you need Blood Orchid for experiments in the future, there will be more material at hand."

A trace of approval appeared on Andrew’s face. "Good. It seems you’re not only a pretty face, but also sensible and resourceful. No wonder the Baroness is so fond of you."

"Thank you for your praise, my lord. Since I’m here, I ought to do my work well."

"So how do you plan to cultivate it?"

"I’ve been observing the Blood Orchid for some time. I’ve found it prefers damp, dark environments, so I intend to place the seed in a shaded corner of the greenhouse. But I’m not yet certain what conditions are necessary for successful cultivation. As you know, my knowledge in this area is still quite limited."

Andrew was somewhat surprised by Gong Hao’s answer. He pondered for a moment before saying, "It’s not that no one has tried cultivating Blood Orchids, but most have failed. The seeds are of little use to us. If you want to try, I won’t stop you. Oh, and if you wish to learn more about magical plants, I suggest you visit the library on the first floor of the Alchemy Tower during your free time. There are many books on the subject; you may find useful information there."

"May I enter the Alchemy Tower?"

Only now did Andrew recall that servants weren’t permitted inside. After some thought, he said, "I remember you can read, which is a good thing. I’ll give you a choice. The Alchemy Tower library needs a scribe to record experiment data and new findings about various materials. Alchemy is a lifelong pursuit—no one knows when a new discovery might be made, so a scribe is always necessary. If you take the position, one of Pyer’s apprentices will be freed from the burdensome record-keeping. However, I won’t relieve you of your duties in Area 13, especially since you’re cultivating the Blood Orchid. If your scribe work causes you to neglect your primary tasks, I won’t forgive you. In other words, you’ll gain access to the first floor of the Alchemy Tower by taking on extra work. Are you willing?"

Gong Hao’s eyes shone with excitement. "I am!"

Of course he was—this was a rare opportunity. Gaining entry to the Alchemy Tower’s library meant he could learn much about alchemy. If sorcerers were powerful because of their magic, then alchemists wielded power by virtue of their knowledge.

He would never pass up such a chance.

Seeing Gong Hao’s excitement, Andrew muttered softly, "An interesting boy."

He casually took a badge from his chest and tossed it to Gong Hao. "Take this. You’ll have free access to the Alchemy Tower. Anyone entering without it will be killed on the spot by the puppet warriors. But remember, you’re only allowed on the first floor. If you dare set foot on the second..." He sneered, "Alchemists have far more than just magical puppets at their disposal. I’ll show you what terror truly means."

With that, he turned and left.

In truth, he had little hope Gong Hao would succeed in cultivating the Blood Orchid. But freeing up an apprentice for his mentor was a good way to curry favor.

The central tower of the castle had always been the object of the servants’ awe and longing.

Each floor represented a different rank and status.

At the very top was the laboratory of the grand alchemist, Hines. He was like a god on the island, overseeing all, ruling this little kingdom.

The castle housed roughly two hundred puppet warriors, all loyal only to Hines. At his command, they would kill any target he named.

The puppet warriors’ strength was comparable to ordinary third-rank warriors. On a scale of ten ranks, this was not particularly high. Yet, this was the mainstay of the armies of the continent. Above the third rank, warriors became increasingly rare and less suited for massed combat. Thus, the core soldiers of the kingdom were usually third- and fourth-rank warriors.

If a third-rank warrior faced a puppet warrior one-on-one, the human would likely win, for the puppets, after all, were alchemical constructs—low in intelligence and lacking adaptability.

But if a thousand third-rank warriors fought a thousand puppet warriors, the puppets would certainly claim an overwhelming victory.

For the same reason, these constructs felt no emotion, knew no fear, obeyed their commanders absolutely. Even if ordered to die, they would not utter a word of protest. Even if their limbs were severed, they would crawl to continue the fight.

The only way to destroy them was total dismemberment.

On the battlefield, such warriors were naturally beloved by their leaders. They did not clamor for wages, mutiny, or cause trouble like old soldiers. They did not need to eat or drink, demanding only energy crystals. Even in the harshest conditions they would not complain, nor would their morale falter if encircled. Retreat or flight was unknown to them—they would fight to the death.

It was with only about two thousand puppet warriors that the Rance Empire, in its rise, defeated a force of twenty thousand. Such was the terror these puppets inspired. And these were but ordinary constructs. Above them were even more dreadful creations—the flesh puppets, equivalent to fourth-rank warriors. In the age of the Hundred Years’ War, it was said that constructs rivaling seventh- or eighth-rank warriors were deployed. But with alchemy’s decline, and each nation hoarding what secrets remained, the techniques for making such puppets gradually vanished.

The most fearsome of all, so legend said, was the Giant War God, built by the grand alchemist Electra—its might rivaled the highest-ranked warriors. In those frenzied years, Electra’s army of war gods almost swept across the continent, leaving the world in awe.

Yet, after Electra’s mysterious disappearance, the war god legion vanished without a trace. The method for creating giant war gods was lost forever.

Nonetheless, the marvels and greatness of alchemy were thereby made manifest.

Whenever Gong Hao thought of these legendary tales, excitement stirred in his heart.

Though half his diligence was born of self-preservation—seeking to stand out and avoid danger—the more he understood alchemy, the more he fell in love with it.

In his previous life, he had been a scientist, naturally passionate about experimentation. Now, in this world, he was surrounded by strange creatures and confronted with things he had never imagined. A vast and intricate system of knowledge was opening before him, making the mysteries within all the more alluring.

His father once said: every great scientist is driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge and discovery. Without this hunger, no one could become a true master.

Now, standing before this boundless repository of learning, gazing at the rows of finely bound books in the library—knowing that they contained nearly all the magical knowledge of the Wind Roaring Continent—he felt a hunger rise from deep within.

He longed desperately to learn, to understand.

"Hey, kid, what are you standing there for?" A youth in a grey apprentice robe called out.

The shout snapped Gong Hao from his reverie. He hurried over. "Master Neil, I presume? I am here at Lord Andrew’s instruction to take over the scribe’s duties."

Neil cast a scornful glance at the "lowly servant," then said coldly, "No need to call me master. Here, only three people besides Master Hines are entitled to that address. You may call me Mage Neil."

"Yes, Mage Neil."

He’s just an apprentice, yet insists on being called mage, Gong Hao thought, stifling a laugh. Another thought flashed through his mind: only three people are called ‘master’? Besides Andrew and Pyer, who was the third?

He suppressed his curiosity and said respectfully, "Then, Mage Neil, how should I begin?"

"It’s simple. You come here every day at noon and work for two hours. Someone will tell you the day’s experimental results, which you’ll record, then classify and archive. If a method is found to be effective, you’ll compile it into a separate booklet, label it, and record the name. That’s all."

"Yes, Mage Neil, I understand."

"Remember, you must become familiar with the materials here. No one can memorize all the results and data. Many times, the masters will come to consult the records, and you must be able to produce them immediately—not rummage through the place looking."

A light flashed in Gong Hao’s eyes. "So that means, only by reading all the books here can I provide the masters with what they need as quickly as possible."

Neil hesitated a moment. "Strictly speaking, someone of your status shouldn’t have access to advanced alchemy texts... But it doesn’t matter, anyway, since you..."

He trailed off, but Gong Hao’s heart tightened.

Neil continued, "In that case, feel free to browse the books here as you wish. At last, I’m free of this damned clerical work. I never want to set foot in this wretched place again. I hate being a scribe!"

With a laugh, Neil departed, leaving Gong Hao alone in the empty library.