Chapter 215 — Industrial Products

Pi Yun spoke till his face glowed red and even his beard seemed to bristle with pride. At the sight, Amber could not help muttering, "So smug... that old reprobate's been talking more and more like Old Zongzi lately..."

At once everyone present whose ears were not deaf turned to look at her, and several voices demanded in unison, "What did you say?"

Amber's pointed ears snapped taut with a jolt, and she darted two or three meters away. "Who's the elf here, you or me?! How is it every one of you has ears that sharp!"

"I keep my eyes fixed on that mouth of yours—the moment you open it, I start sifting out the sand," Gao Yang said, glaring at the half-elf who let her tongue run away with her. Then he turned to Hetty. "These potions go first to supply the domain's internal needs. The army must also distribute potions to every soldier, ensuring that in any situation each soldier has a reserve of three rejuvenation potions and three antidote compounds. Make a count, and after those requirements are met, keep an additional fifty percent in reserve. Everything beyond that gets packed up—these will be the first signature goods of the Cecil domain."

Hetty sighed with genuine feeling. "On this alone, the Cecil domain's combat corps must already be the most luxurious army in the world."

Gao Yang smiled. "They've been that ever since we put enchanted gear in every last one of their hands."

Just then the workshop door was suddenly pushed open, and an apprentice strode quickly in. He came before Gao Yang and the others, bowed respectfully, and reported, "My lords, the carriage from the Kant domain has crossed the bridge."

"So Mr. Padrick has arrived," Gao Yang said, turning around and patting the packing crates of alchemical potions. "Get this batch of samples packed up first and sent to the lord's manor. I want to have a good long talk with this gentleman whom Sir Philip praised so highly."

And on this historic day, as the Cecil domain's alchemical potion trade route raised its curtain, within the borders of the Typhon Empire, in a hidden temple known to few, a special gathering was being convened.

A grave atmosphere hung over the hidden temple. In the center of the circular main hall stood a ring of seats, their surfaces carved with the pattern of tightly shut eyes that stood for dreams; a portion of each chair seemed to writhe faintly in the darkness like something alive, while a great many nerve cords extended from holes in the floor and walls to connect with the biological parts of those seats.

A dozen or so figures in white or black robes stood around the seats, their faces bearing smooth, uncanny masks that made it wholly impossible to judge anyone's identity from their features—nor to see any change of expression at all.

One of the white-robed figures stepped forward and swept a glance around the circle. From beneath the mask came a low voice, neither male nor female: "Good. Everyone is here. Then, 22, you will preside over this ritual."

The white-robed and black-robed figures each took their places before their own seats, and one of the black-robed figures raised a hand. "Then let us begin the seventeenth 'Deep Dive Test,' an attempt to break through and decipher the memory fragments shed by Gao Yang Cecil. Bishops of Nightmare, send the signal to your 'subordinate node clusters.' In one minute, the connection begins."

"Everyone—safety first."