Chapter 31: The First Crisis

Training was far from pleasant.

Before Ji Mingming's figure could fade from view, Jiang Fengming, leading a throng of people, swiftly approached. Even before his footsteps halted, his voice carried ahead: “Good morning, Mr. Wu. Time is precious, so I’ll keep this brief. Today’s first subject is…”

With those words, Wu Qingchen’s rhythm in the world of Earth instantly reverted to the familiar pace of recent days.

The training itself was not particularly complex.

Most of the morning’s session covered content he’d already encountered: the correct way to hold a wooden shovel, strategies for laying traps, movements to avoid injury from cutting grass, the proper placement of fallen leaves and twigs to prevent smoke, and so on. All these stemmed from issues Wu Qingchen had faced during his past ten days of life and labor in the medieval world, reinforcing previously learned knowledge and correcting certain erroneous details.

The afternoon training offered something fresher. On the first night, the expert team had urgently taught Wu Qingchen how to craft some basic tools and improve certain agricultural implements native to the medieval world. However, aside from a minor modification to a hand rake upon first entering the medieval world, Wu Qingchen had scarcely practiced these skills in the subsequent twenty days.

The reason was regrettable. When Wu Qingchen first received nighttime training, the celestial event had just occurred, and the arrangements were exceedingly rushed. Everything—from materials and manpower to environment and participants’ mental states—was sorely lacking.

During the tool improvement segment, though the experts repeatedly reminded themselves that the medieval world was one of severe material scarcity and backward civilization, and tried to use the simplest tools, most common materials, and quickest methods during training, the lack of information and insufficient preparation inevitably led their thinking—and those “as much as possible” measures—to be influenced by their Earthly experience.

Thus, the hastily devised solutions, predicted tools, and chosen materials differed, sometimes significantly, from the realities of the medieval world.

Life on Earth is vibrant and fast-paced; in the medieval world, burdens are heavy, days monotonous, minds closed, and problems faced by fathers are often still unresolved by their sons’ generation.

Earth boasts advanced instruments; the medieval world relies mainly on wood, with stone as the most common tool.

Earth’s logistics are efficient; exotic goods can reach any corner within a week. In the medieval world, isolation prevails, exchanges are rare, and most natives will never see scenery beyond their village.

Earth’s productivity is high, resources abundant; in the medieval world, a five-kilogram lump of iron is a lifetime’s treasure for a family of five.

Despite his head full of schemes for improving labor tools and efficiency, Wu Qingchen found himself helpless: there was no bamboo for basket weaving, no wheels for cart-making, no knives for wheel-making, no iron for knife-forging. All he could do was sigh in frustration.

Only on this afternoon, after compiling data gathered from the medieval world, did the training team resume the subject of item crafting.

Compared to the first night, the items the team instructed Wu Qingchen to make were considerably simpler, tailored to his needs and the actual conditions of the medieval world.

This session lasted about three hours.

After the manual workshop, considering Wu Qingchen’s pressing goal of “status elevation,” the training group arranged for him to study copiously in religious knowledge—origins of belief, social interaction skills with clergy, memory techniques for religious texts, and other theological subjects.

By the time the cultural lessons ended, the sun had long set. Back in the underground security area, Wu Qingchen ate dinner, rested briefly with his eyes closed while listening to high-fidelity recordings of religious scriptures, and after half an hour’s adjustment, began his second bout of combat training.

Of course, this description isn’t entirely accurate. According to the experts, their analysis suggested Wu Qingchen would not face direct physical threats for quite some time. Moreover, most of his actions in the medieval world were planned meticulously by the advisory team, virtually eliminating the risk of encountering beasts or thieves.

Looking at the present and the future, what Wu Qingchen needed most were not skills like horsemanship, swordsmanship, or spear-fighting, but rather cooking, scientific labor, and sleeping techniques—skills for a more comfortable life.

Still, precautions were necessary. No one could predict the future with certainty, so to allow Wu Qingchen some leeway in emergencies, combat training was included in his regimen.

Additionally, Wu Qingchen’s physical health on Earth concerned all of humanity; the combat training could not be of the harsh, high-intensity kind favored by the military or assassins.

Thus, Wu Qingchen wasn’t learning deadly moves, iron head skills, or chest-breaking stunts. Most of the training focused on techniques emphasizing personal safety.

Some of the most aggressive and dangerous maneuvers in the curriculum seemed oddly familiar to Wu Qingchen.

Yet, the trainers adamantly denied any connection, keeping their lips sealed. They refused to tell him that these were actually the content of TV shows, carefully adapted and stripped of most hazardous actions—a weakened version of—women’s self-defense techniques.

It was clear that, rather than teaching him to fight, the advisory team was more concerned about Wu Qingchen’s health on Earth and wanted him to get some exercise after meals.

After half an hour of this, he underwent another dozen miscellaneous training modules. Around midnight, Wu Qingchen entered his room to rest. Everyone else withdrew, and he slowly closed his eyes.

Outside the door, at the same time, Jiang Fengming turned around. A staff member immediately handed him a summary of the subjects from the third training session.

Walking toward his office, Jiang Fengming quickly opened the file, the first item being an analysis of the implementation of the seventeenth backup plan led by Ji Mingming:

“…In summary, our department believes that through the implementation of the seventeenth backup plan, interpersonal communication and adaptability training for the target have achieved the expected effect. Furthermore, analysis suggests that the plan helps the target develop a sense of belonging and responsibility toward Earth. Recommendation: retain the plan and continue oversight by Ji Mingming (police officer, ID ******, Temporary Celestial Event Office ID ******).”

------

As Jiang Fengming read this, arriving at his office,

At that very moment, medieval world, year 0001, January 20th, 13:53.

Wu Qingchen—or rather, Los/William—opened his eyes.

Chapter Thirty-One: First Crisis (Part Two)

Medieval World.

Standing atop a small hill, watching his father and two elder brothers disappear around yet another bend, Wu Qingchen’s gaze quickly swept over the deserted surroundings, then he turned and descended the slope.

It was time for a meal.

A few minutes later, when Wu Qingchen reached the kitchen hidden deep in the woods, a rabbit was now in his right hand.

This rabbit was fortunate: it encountered a trap far more advanced than anything in its world, and soon it would witness cooking skills equally ahead of its era.

Compared to these two strokes of luck, its final bit of fortune was insignificant: ten minutes later, it ended up in the belly of this advanced Earthling, its dazzling life concluding in a manner far from the common fate of its kin—devoured by wolves, dying of old age, or crashing into a tree.

Two minutes more, Wu Qingchen, having just satisfied his hunger, extinguished the fire, concealed the traces, cleaned up the rabbit’s remains, and returned the kitchen utensils to their hidden places.

The last item he stowed was a small clay jar, which he carefully placed into a square hole with both hands.

Such caution stemmed from two reasons:

First, the jar was ugly and small—smaller even than a typical Earth water cup—yet this unimpressive vessel had cost Wu Qingchen as much effort as all his other kitchenware combined.

Second, at this moment, the jar contained a precious material painstakingly collected by Wu Qingchen over several days.

Though it only filled half the jar, most of it had transformed into a layer of light gray sediment at the bottom, with a small portion—just collected—still floating atop as a milky, viscous liquid.

This material, resembling the very essence of life, was, in truth, exactly that.

Using the oldest materials—innards, scraps of meat, animal skins—and the most primitive methods—burning, boiling, simple filtration—Wu Qingchen had obtained this half jar of precious substance.

Its name was fat.

On Earth, fat is both essential food and a crucial chemical resource, with broad applications.

Even in the medieval world, regardless of crude craftsmanship, Wu Qingchen could use this fat to make candles and soap, thereby freeing himself from the omnipresent darkness when venturing out at night and from the persistent stink and odd smells that clung to ragged clothes.

Of course, any plan reaching the implementation stage had been thoroughly considered by Earth’s advisory team, striving for multiple benefits in each.

To carve out two hours of training time for teaching Wu Qingchen fat extraction, their goals surely exceeded solving just those two problems. Presently, aside from making some candles and soap, most of the fat was destined for another treasure.

In the medieval world, Wu Qingchen’s body was that of a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old, requiring enhanced nutrition and protection. More tragically, he lived in a remote mountain village where even getting enough to eat was a challenge. Even after Wu Qingchen’s arrival, meat was a rare treat, often unsatisfying.

Moreover, most of his diet was meat, with some coarsely processed beans—far from healthy, and bound to cause issues over time.

For Wu Qingchen’s and all humanity’s health, the health department of the advisory group was frantic, scouring every plant and animal in the medieval world for supplements to balance his gut and supply trace elements.

Their efforts yielded remarkable results: in three days, they found, by combing through hundreds of thousands of hours of film footage, crabs, dandelions, vipers, tamarinds, sulfur, aluminum ore, toads, and other raw materials—enough not only to concoct a nourishing supplement, but even to create brain rot, golden fools, and deadly agents.

But these were just raw materials.

Dandelions and tamarinds couldn’t be eaten directly; Wu Qingchen couldn’t digest sulfur or aluminum ore; as for toads and vipers, any expert suggesting their capture would likely add another missing person to the tally the next day.

The health department knew well that processing such materials by Wu Qingchen himself was fraught with difficulty.

First, Wu Qingchen had no medical training, struggled with cooking, and adjusting precise quantities of ingredients would likely result in either a supplement or a deadly poison; second, even if these skills could be mastered, collecting the materials would conflict heavily with his demanding agricultural labor.

Settling for the next best, the health department soon focused on naturally occurring items.

This time, countless experts converged on a single item.

Typically found on various plant branches, mostly round and dark in color.

Its name was honeycomb.

The product it yielded was honey.

On both Earth and in the medieval world, honey is a pure, natural health food, directly absorbed by the body, especially beneficial for adolescents.

It was perfect for supplementing Los/Wu Qingchen—a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy—and even more so for the perpetually undernourished, scientifically neglected child he had become.

With so many experts’ attention, honeycomb was far from rare near Ekli village, where Wu Qingchen lived.

Indeed, at this very moment, barely a dozen meters away, a dark honeycomb hung from the branch of a tall broadleaf tree. Wu Qingchen could easily see bees buzzing about its edges.

Unfortunately, Wu Qingchen couldn’t take honey from this hive directly.

Not because Earth lacked safe methods for harvesting honey.

Medieval natives were backward, not foolish. Wu Qingchen understood the value of honey, and so did they.

True, the medieval world lacked bee domestication and large-scale honey harvesting technology, but its natives had their own ways.

Most honeycombs on the outskirts of Ekli village, beside branches or cave entrances, bore charcoal-drawn crosses or circles, marking them as discovered and immediately claimed by the steward or priest.

The largest honeycombs, with the best bees, were even cut down by the steward, who commanded men to transport these branches to the lord’s manor, rotating laborers day and night.

Having spent over twenty days in the medieval world, Wu Qingchen—on Earth and here—understood well that food was the world’s most precious commodity, and conflicts over it were the sharpest and fiercest.

In such circumstances, without preparing to flee into the forest, Wu Qingchen could not hope to obtain honey from any hive already claimed by the lords.

Fortunately, this man came from Earth, supported by millions of the planet’s best professionals.

Wild honeycombs were hard to acquire, so Wu Qingchen spent an hour learning to build a simple artificial hive.

The artificial hive required wax, so he spent half an hour learning basic wax-making.

Wax-making required fat, so he spent two hours learning the simplest fat extraction.

Now, the first batch of materials had been collected, wax-making was not difficult, and as for the wooden boards and tools needed for the artificial hive…

Returning to the hilltop, Wu Qingchen glanced up. Even as the light dimmed, the village’s tallest structure—the stone-built church—still reflected a faint glow.

In the medieval world, iron tools were precious, especially sharp ones, but as a member of the ruling class, the priest held several such treasures.

Wait, what had he just noticed?

The light dimming?

Wu Qingchen raised his head. A gentle breeze passed, and he felt a few cool drops on his face.

My goodness!

My goodness?

My goodness—what?!

It’s raining?

It’s raining!

It’s raining?!

Medieval world time: year 0001, January 24th, 17:21:49.

Young Los/William/Wu Qingchen—the man from Earth—experienced his first rain in the medieval world.

Earth’s capital time: May 11th, 2012, 3:37:25 am.

Earth’s populace faced the first true outbreak of panic since the celestial event began.