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墨書 Inktalez
"This... this is..." The Mad Old Woman's bony fingers traced the patch on the child's collar, suddenly trembling violently. She yanked at the back of the child's collar—revealing a small pentagram embroidered in red thread!
"It can't be..." The old woman staggered back, knocking over a basket of herbs. "My daughter was not yet married when she died..."
The child blinked in confusion and suddenly pulled out an object from their pocket: a half-broken wooden hairpin, its plum blossom carving already worn down. Upon seeing the hairpin, the Mad Old Woman sank to her knees—this was the gift she had prepared for her daughter’s coming-of-age ceremony!
"Tunbao..." the child stammered, "the Auntie in the dungeon gave it to me..."
The One-Armed Veteran sprang to his feet. "Which Tunbao?"
The child shook their head and suddenly mimicked a diving motion, then flapped their arms like a bird. The Old Soldier's face darkened like water: "Qing Shui Tun Bao, built deep in the marshes, specifically for imprisoning..."
The sound of urgent hoofbeats interrupted their conversation. Two couriers rushed into the courtyard, handing over a sealed letter. After reading it, a glint of determination flashed in the Old Soldier's single eye.
"We'll escort Zhou Liangzhang to the capital first thing tomorrow morning," he said in a low voice to Lin Dahe. "Qing Shui Tun Bao has breeding fields sanctioned by the court; there... perhaps you can find the cold-resistant seed potatoes you need."
Just as Lin Dahe was about to ask for more details, the child suddenly pointed outside and screamed—through the twilight, a metallic glint flashed by!
The oil lamp on the table cast a flickering circle of light. Lin Dahe examined his hybridization notes closely; the system's countdown had already reached [20:41:22], and the Blood Tide marker on the map had moved closer. When he flipped to the crucial chapter on cold-resistant potato modifications, his finger suddenly froze—the three most important pages had vanished! The tear was so clean it looked as if it had been cut with a knife.
The window creaked open. Cui Xiaoman entered with a bowl of medicine. Noticing his strange expression, her gaze fell on the open notes.
"What’s wrong..."
"Three pages are missing," Lin Dahe met her eyes directly. "The original data for cold-resistant breeding."
Cui Xiaoman's hand trembled imperceptibly, causing ripples in the medicinal broth at the edge of the bowl. Her sewing basket sat in the corner, and within it, a bundle of muddy thread stood out—made from ramie unique to Liaodong, and only Huo Lang Zhang had any stock left in the entire village!
Silence spread between them. In the distance, an owl hooted rhythmically, almost like some kind of code.
"Do you trust me?" Cui Xiaoman suddenly asked, her voice barely audible.
Lin Dahe glanced at his system interface; his favorability rating had inexplicably risen to [79/100]. Just as he was about to speak, an urgent whistle from Huo Lang Zhang echoed at the village entrance!
As they rushed outside, chaos had already erupted throughout the village. The One-Armed Veteran stood with his sword in front of the ancestral hall while Zhou Liangzhang, who should have been locked in the cellar... was nowhere to be found!
"Someone has broken him out," gritted out the Old Soldier through clenched teeth. "It's an inside job."
Lin Dahe's gaze involuntarily shifted toward Cui Xiaoman. Under the moonlight, her face was as pale as paper, her fingers tightly twisting at her clothing—there were fresh mud stains on it, from red clay that could only be dug up in Xishan...
The autumn sun lazily rested on a stack of straw in the threshing yard as Lin Dahe wiped sweat from his forehead; oil from a pot bubbled and released wisps of blue smoke. He grabbed a pair of long bamboo chopsticks and slid a slice of potato thin as cicada wings into the hot oil; with a sizzling sound, golden bubbles joyfully leaped up.
"It's still not quite right," Cui Xiaoman squatted behind the earthen stove and deftly shoved dried mugwort into the fire pit. The flames leaped high, illuminating beads of sweat glistening on her nose.
Lin Dahe stared blankly at her hair tips dusted with grass fragments until a fragrant aroma wafted from the pot; he hurriedly fished out the potato chips. This was already his third batch burned today—ever since unlocking "Deep-Fried Food Encyclopedia" in the system, he had been challenging this military pot borrowed from Mute Blacksmith.
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