Ze Tian Ji

Edited by: Michyrr

The conversation between An Hua and the cleric was not loud, but the room was too silent, so everyone else could still clearly hear their words and then develop their own worries.

If the creator of the pill were to make their identity known, they would assuredly obtain the greatest benefits due to the pill that they made. It would certainly not just be wealth, but also power and authority. However, it was very obvious that this person had never desired these sorts of benefits...but why? Was it to ensure their mystery, or for their safety?

An Hua still did not understand why the Imperial Court and the Orthodoxy were incapable of finding out this person’s identity. Could this medicine called the Cinnabar Pill possibly be ambrosia from the Divine Kingdom? It must be known that this medicine would be promptly distributed to the various military headquarters at set intervals, which would assuredly leave behind many clues. For instance, someone had to be in charge of distributing the medicine.

"The Wenshui Tang clan." The cleric knew what she was thinking and answered her question. "Delivery and distribution of the medicine is the responsibility of the Tang clan."

The hospital was located on the broadest street of the Mount Song Army headquarters. Across from it was the most critical area of the headquarters while behind was an inn standing on a street lined with plum trees. This inn was the most famous and most luxurious inn in this fort and it was packed every day. However, many people were unaware that the most expensive room in this inn was only separated from the Sacred Hospital by a single wall.

A middle-aged man silently sat in this room upon a palace armchair, his expression rather gloomy. This was not a sign of his mood, only an indicator that he was exhausted from having far too many matters on his mind. This person was dressed very simply, but his clothes were made with the finest of materials, indicating that he was wealthy but wanted to conceal it. He was most likely someone involved in commerce.

The sound coming from behind the wall was so weak that even the best of robbers would find it difficult to hear. However, he had his head lowered as he listened with incredible focus. It was like he really could hear the details of this conversation. From this fact, one could vaguely guess that this person had quite the extraordinary cultivation. It was highly likely that he was a true expert.

The conversation in the Sacred Hospital continued.

An older doctor said, "This is a matter that everyone on the frontlines is concerned about, so someone has always been investigating this matter. Right now, it can be guaranteed that the Wenshui Tangs are responsible for transport and distribution, but are not the actual owner of the Cinnabar Pill. We can even say with confidence that not even the Wenshui Tangs know who that person is."

This sounded almost absurd, but it was probably true. Moreover, at the very beginning, what people cared about more was how the Wenshui Tangs would divide up the medicine.

What was the most precious thing in the world? It was naturally life, which could not be retrieved. A medicine that could bring back a life was undoubtedly a treasure that everyone desired.

One who held the power of distributing this sort of medicine essentially held power over many people’s lives.

This was an extremely terrifying power and also an equally heavy responsibility.

From a certain perspective, giving this power to another was actually just pushing the responsibility on someone else, simply avoiding the responsibility.

In An Hua’s view, a person that was able to make the Cinnabar Pill could only be an honest and generous person whose heart cherished all living things, so they could not be this sort of person.

"This person did not completely pass on the authority to the Tang clan. Beforehand, they laid down many rules." The cleric smiled at her and explained, "The first rule was to forbid them from investigating his background or asking where the name ’Cinnabar Pill’ came from. They also forbid anyone from analyzing the medicine to get its composition."

An Hua now understood why the room had become so silent and everyone had given her such strange stares after she mentioned that the Imperial Court or Orthodoxy could analyze the pill to get the recipe.

Then how was it distributed? It was not very difficult to figure out how to distribute the Cinnabar Pills to the ten-some military headquarters, but she was not well-versed in this aspect. However, she could still imagine that the distribution was probably based on the number of soldiers in each of the headquarters. This method was the simplest and the fairest. The truly difficult point was how to distribute the medicine amongst the wounded.

The Mount Song Army headquarters was one of the larger of the ten-some army headquarters on the frontline, but every month, they were able to get only six pills at most. On their worst month, they had only received two. Moreover, even on the months when the war was at its most stable and there were no large military campaigns, there were at least one hundred casualties who were on the verge of death.

"The wounded that can be healed with the Sacred Light technique or by doctors can’t be given the pill, no matter how serious their injuries, even if they’ve lost an arm or leg. As long as they won’t die, they won’t be given the medicine," explained the senior doctor. "Who receives the Cinnabar Pill has nothing to do with age, how high their position, or what sort of background they have. First priority is given to clerics and second priority to array masters."

An Hua very quickly understood why the medicine was divided as such.

The clerics on the frontline could all use the Sacred Light technique, whether it was just a few times or many times. One Cinnabar Pill saving a cleric meant that it could save many more people in the future. Array masters had the most important mission on the battlefield, felt the greatest pressure, died at the highest rates, and were also highly respected, so she could accept that they were ranked second.

The cleric added, "After that, we have to consider the cultivation of the wounded and the state of their injuries. Those with higher cultivation levels or more serious injuries will be placed higher on the list."

An Hua was somewhat puzzled as to why cultivators of higher levels could more easily receive the Cinnabar Pill.

The general suddenly said impassively, "As this is a war, saving an expert has more meaning to humanity than saving a normal person."

From a purely logical perspective, this was naturally a most reasonable argument, but...were not all lives equal?

It did not consider status, family, or age, but was it not still being distributed based on a hierarchy?

An Hua suddenly felt a little cold.

A furious voice could be heard from outside the room. "This isn’t fair! Are the lives of us ordinary people also not lives?"

At some point, an injured soldier had appeared at the door, a crutch under his arm. One of his pantlegs drifted in the air—he had probably lost a leg on the battlefield.

It was plain to see that it was not the first time an injured soldier had furiously complained, both at the Mount Song Army headquarters and all the other military forts on the frontline.

No one looked at this wounded soldier. This room was very quiet, and even An Hua did not speak, only silently lowered her head to look at the floor.

Reality was cruel, and that person’s distribution method for the Cinnabar Pill was truly very cruel, but no one could deny that it was proper.

An Hua raised her head and asked the cleric, "Then...who determines the severity of the injuries and how urgently they need to be treated?"

It was evident that this was truly the most important question, and also the most troublesome one.