Chapter 713
Geniuses in the Spirit Tower
In another room, almost the entire length of the ship away from the First Class Cabin.
A middle-aged man with greasy, disheveled hair anxiously wiped the sweat from his brow.
He grabbed a passing blond youth and, as the latter winced in pain, anxiously asked, “Haven’t you found Paul yet?”
“I already told you, no—”
The youth grumbled impatiently.
“No what?”
Just then, a cold, hoarse, and slow voice echoed.
A chill suddenly permeated the room. People subconsciously looked in the direction of the voice.
It was a man who looked as withered as a ghost.
He appeared to be around forty or fifty, his eyes deep like a wolf stalking its prey. The man’s back was slightly hunched, and he leaned against the surrounding wall as he appeared at the doorway. Although he was wearing a neat suit, it looked somewhat droopy because it was a size too large and his shoulders couldn’t support it. His eyes were tinged with a dim yellow radiance, giving him a sickly appearance.
He walked in slowly, and everyone else stopped their conversations and actions, greeting him and bowing:
“Professor Rasimi!”
“Good afternoon, Professor.”
The middle-aged man, addressed as Professor Rasimi, merely nodded slightly, not speaking in response.
He stared at the man with the messy hair and walked directly towards him.
The man was startled and stood at attention like a student. The blond youth beside him also showed fear but dared not flee. He could only cast an angry glare at the middle-aged man next to him before lowering his head.
“No what?”
Professor Rasimi repeated his earlier question in a low voice as he approached.
The blond youth spoke rapidly, “Paul is missing. Assistant Medel asked us to find him…”
“That’s right, Professor…”
The middle-aged man scratched his hair vigorously, dandruff falling as he spoke softly, head bowed, “Someone saw him when we boarded…”
But before he could say more, Professor Rasimi interrupted Assistant Medel’s words: “Paul is missing?”
“…Yes.”
Assistant Medel was speechless and could only nod.
“I asked you to keep an eye on him,” Professor Rasimi said slowly, frowning.
“…Yes.”
“So what did you do?”
Professor Rasimi asked softly, like a lover whispering, “You let him go?”
Medel shivered and immediately began to explain, “No, no, no, I told you, when the ship set sail, he clearly…”
“—You know, he’s important,” Professor Rasimi continued to interrupt Medel, “More important than all of you combined.”
“Yes, yes, I know…”
Medel wiped his sweat, nodding repeatedly in subservience.
At this moment, one of Professor Rasimi’s fingers rested silently on Medel’s forehead.
In an instant, the entire room fell silent. Medel didn’t dare to move, and Professor Rasimi himself exuded a death aura, like a withered corpse.
Everyone watched in silence, and the sound of waves, previously masked by their voices, became exceptionally clear.
Splash—
Splash—
Perhaps only a dozen seconds passed, but Medel felt as if it were minutes.
Finally, Professor Rasimi’s finger slowly curled and retracted.
Seeing that Medel had not immediately died, sounds of “relief” erupted simultaneously, almost forming a coherent, audible sigh in the narrow room. But people quickly realized how impolite it was and immediately fell silent again.
Medel remained in his previous posture, unmoving.
—He had been petrified.
Besides turning into a stone statue, being completely immobile could also be considered a form of petrification. This was also an application of the Preservation Technique—living preservation.
“This is the third time, Medel. I will show your father some consideration… but there won’t be a next time.”
Professor Rasimi’s hoarse and unpleasant voice slowly resonated, “You’d better hope I find Paul.”
His face, as cold as a corpse, swept across the room as he ordered, “Do what you need to do.”
In an instant, the people, who seemed frozen, suddenly regained their liveliness and energy—
They vigorously moved the tall, heavy wooden barrels they had been sharing the room with to the window, pouring out all the biological specimens purchased from the Church and their preservation fluids.
Everyone seemed to be trying to show how diligent and serious they were about their work—even the sound of moving barrels was distinct.
“—Quiet down, this is a secret operation,” Professor Rasimi’s voice, full of sarcasm, rang out again, “Are you building a house? Or does someone want to be a foundation? I’ll be the first to satisfy them when we get back.”
In an instant, the work became quiet again.
The students worked quietly—silent yet incredibly swift.
Professor Rasimi frowned and scanned the room, but he seemed unable to find the other person he was looking for. He raised an eyebrow and left silently without a word.
Only after he left did the students in the cabin breathe a sigh of relief. Their work speed immediately slowed considerably.
After a while longer, Medel gradually regained his ability to move.
First, his fingers twitched. Then his eyelids began to blink, and tears flowed out. After some more time, he finally collapsed on the ground in a sorry state, gasping for breath and constantly hitting his shoulders and waist. But no other student in the room paid him any mind.
Students passed by him, but almost no one looked at him.
“I’ll help too!”
Assistant Medel caught his breath, stood up, and squeezed himself into the work.
On the other side.
Alistair’s fingers tapped the armrest of the sofa, lost in thought.
“In more detail,” she suddenly said, asking Paul, “How exactly are you planning to proceed?”
Dimit, who was beside her, interjected, “It’s just dumping the ‘nooses’ we brought into the sea…”
“To put it completely,”
Paul interrupted Dimit and began from the beginning, “Normally, we use a normal concentration as a preservative. And we have a job we always do—
“Because Star Antinomy and Anxi do not border each other, and the port is controlled by goblin merchants, the ships of the Anxi snake people and lizardmen cannot enter. Therefore, when we need to trade with the Anxi people, we choose to do so through the Church.”
“What kind of trade?” Alistair pressed.
“Human specimens. We need a large number of specimens of races other than humans… Necromancy studies consume a vast amount of corpses, and Star Antinomy is very stingy even with human corpses.”
Paul replied, “But the Church does not allow the buying and selling of human tissues, nor does it allow slave trading. Therefore, the Anxi people adopted another trading model—they bring some slaves directly to the Church, and then ask us to turn them into ‘living corpse’ level specimens. In other words, we provide the service, not them… And the rituals, alchemy, or necromancy processing are permitted by the Church.”
“Then how do the Anxi people profit?”
Alistair inquired in detail, “They can’t be paying you to take the corpses, can they?”
“—Because customizing specimens requires a lot of time and effort, and it’s easy to damage the corpses, or fail to maintain the highest quality… The highest quality specimens can be directly used for necromancy research, or for creating high-level undead, which requires very high technical skill.
“So after the Anxi people give us a 20% ‘deposit’, we, in turn, pay a large ‘deposit’ to ensure their intactness. Because the process is complex and difficult to make, this deposit is much higher than the initial deposit… So, in the end, it’s us who paid and brought the corpses back.”
Paul stated calmly, “After that… there’s nothing. The deposit is just a deposit, and the deposit is ‘withheld’ by them. Then we just need to write a letter informing them regretfully that ‘all corpses have been damaged, the transaction is canceled’, and then it’s over. The corpses were indeed damaged—they were all used to improve the students’ preservation and necromancy skills.”
…Clever.
Alistair marveled, “There are geniuses in the Spirit Tower…”
(End of this chapter)
