No matter how miraculous a medicine was, if it could not be used by one, it was no different from trash. To the young array master on his deathbed, the Cinnabar Pill was this sort of existence. The general no longer looked at him. He turned and walked out of the room, stopping as he passed An Hua and the cleric. After asking them to take good care of him, he sternly said a few words.
"I will not say that this person is fishing for fame, but this person is assuredly scheming something great."
Everyone understood the general's meaning. Whether that person had found this divine recipe from an ancient text or had developed it through his talent in medicine, if he truly cared about the safety of the Human race, bemoaned the state of the universe and pitied the fate of mankind, then the most appropriate thing to do was to take out the recipe.
Ever since she had confirmed that the Cinnabar Pill truly did have miraculous effects and had saved many people who should have been alive, An Hua had developed an extremely favorable impression of that mysterious person that no one had ever met. She was not willing to believe that this person was a schemer or had other motives, but she also could not refute the general's words.
That person could only take out one bottle of Cinnabar Pills every month, and several dozen pills were still too few when compared to the needs of the soldiers on the front lines. She believed that this person was already doing his best, but because he could not gather enough rare ingredients, or because his abilities were limited, he could not increase the production. However, as long as he was willing to hand over the recipe, these problems could be easily resolved. Just as she had thought at the very beginning, no matter how rare the ingredients required for this pill were, the Orthodoxy and the Imperial Court would assuredly be able to find them.
If the Orthodoxy and the Imperial Court could mass-produce this pill, the Human race would obtain an enormous advantage in this war and the future of the continent would be bright. Of course, to that person, this was also of great benefit. He would receive the gratitude of the entire world and countless merits. Even if he could not cultivate, he would still become a true Saint.
So why was he not willing to do this?
… …
… …
The middle-aged man sat in his chair, quietly drinking tea. The inn owner stood in front of him, not daring to move.
Upon hearing the voices coming from behind the wall, a mocking smile appeared on his lips. "Saint? It's just hoarding. "
The inn owner pressed his body even lower, not daring to say anything.
Hoarding rare goods was a method used by merchants to sell their goods.
How much was the Cinnabar Pill worth? In terms of curative effects, it could regrow bones and cure the dead. Naturally, it was a priceless treasure. But in reality, from the moment the Cinnabar Pill first appeared in Blue Pass, there had never been a price. If you wanted to obtain it, you didn't need any money. All you needed to do was wait — if you had the life to wait until then.
Whether it was the master of the Cinnabar Pill, the Hall of Illustrious Persons, or the current Wenshui Tangs, none of them could obtain any profit from the Cinnabar Pill. In the view of some people, there was simply no reason for the Wenshui Tangs to offend so many factions and powerful figures for the sake of a pill that they could not obtain any profit from. However, in the eyes of truly knowledgeable people, this idea was undoubtedly extremely foolish. The master of the Cinnabar Pill had determined the rules, but the rules were dead, and there were always some places that could be used. For instance, if two array masters were both heavily injured and on the verge of death, whether it was in terms of cultivation or past military merit, they were all very similar, so how could they be determined in the order?
At times like this, the Tang family was in control.
Even if this kind of authority didn't appear all the time and seemed very insignificant, it was still as vast as the ocean. No matter how much one valued it, it wouldn't be too much. The Tang family would never give up on this resource. In order to ensure the long-term preservation of this resource, they would do their utmost to satisfy that person's conditions, including enforcing the rules for that person.
After the coup of the Mausoleum of Books, the Tang family's status in the Human race had risen even higher, already leaving the Tianhai clan far behind and becoming the de facto number one clan of the Great Zhou Dynasty. Now that they held the right to distribute the Cinnabar Pill, their status had once more been solidified, even making many factions faintly fear them.
A normal clan would have been perfectly satisfied with this position, but the Wenshui Tangs were no normal clan. They were the earliest merchants of the continent. Merchants could never be satisfied, they were insatiably greedy. Whether this was praise or criticism, business was business, so the Tang family naturally could not be satisfied with the profits brought by the Cinnabar Pill.
Compared to the miraculous effects of the Cinnabar Pill, the current profits were rather small, and … they were not the leader.
That mysterious person was the true owner, and the Tang family could not accept this.
Whether it was armaments, provisions, cities, treasures, or medicines, the Tang family had to be the sole owner of any business on the continent, or at the very least, the major shareholder.
Starting from tens of thousands of years ago, greed for profit and a valiant desire for control had been the strongest colors of the Wenshui Tangs, even the goal of their existence. These two points had long since been engraved into the blood of every member of the clan, becoming an obsession. Thus, even with the bloody incident of the Hall of Illustrious Persons, they still wanted to obtain even more from the Cinnabar Pill.
More than anyone else, they wanted to know just who the true master of the Cinnabar Pill was.
Compared to the other factions of the world, they were unquestionably the closest to that person. Perhaps there were several layers of fog between them, but they could already faintly see the truth.
Yes, this inn was the property of the Wenshui Tangs.
The middle-aged man was the Seventeenth Master of the Wenshui Tangs.
He had come all the way from Wenshui to the Mount Song Army headquarters precisely to find the secret hidden behind the Cinnabar Pill.
A respectful and fearful voice came from outside the door.
"The goods from Black Mountain have arrived."
The Tang Seventeenth Master slightly arched his brows, his eyes brightening.
He rose from his chair and, under the guidance of the innkeeper, arrived at a secret room in the rear courtyard of the inn.
A large black stone table was placed in the center of the secret room. On the stone table was the goods that the Wenshui Tangs had paid an enormous price to transport from the Black Mountain Army headquarters.
It was a corpse.
The victim was a man. He was severely injured. His face and neck were charred black, which was obvious that he had been burned by the poisonous demonic flame. His half-unbuttoned clothes were obviously of military style. His fingers were long and slender, and his knuckles were slightly bulging. There were still faint traces of starlight in the miserable wound on his chest and abdomen that had not completely dissipated.
From these details, one could see that this was a Star Condensation cultivator who had died in battle with demon experts. He was highly likely to be a general of the Great Zhou Army.
The Tang Seventeenth Master took a pure white handkerchief from his sleeve and covered his nose and mouth, using his eyes to signal the innkeeper to step forward.
The innkeeper walked up to the black stone table, took out a sharp knife, and began to cut at the chest and abdomen of the corpse, starting from the already existing wound.
With a soft swish, the edge of the knife cut open the corpse's stomach. An unpleasant green liquid gushed out and dripped onto the table.
The Tang Seventeenth Master slightly frowned, somewhat disgusted as he tightened his grip on the handkerchief, but he did not shift his gaze.
In front of him, the innkeeper had seemed like a particularly mediocre servant, but at this moment, he seemed like an extremely experienced coroner.
Without hesitation, the innkeeper extended his hand into the corpse's stomach. After searching for a while, he took out a small bag.
This bag was made of some unknown material. It was neither leather nor paper, and its surface was very smooth. It felt extremely thin and soft, and one could faintly make out a round object within.
This object could be a stone, could be a pearl.
It could also be a pill.
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