Above The Sky Chapter 47 - 47 45 Turbine

47: Chapter 45: Turbine 47: Chapter 45: Turbine “The blood of a warrior,” he pronounced, “shall be repaid with a hundred lives of Imperial People.”

His mouth spoke these words, but his hands did not cease their work.

The Great Shaman gently picked up the two hearts that, although long removed from their chest, still beat vibrantly with a fresh red hue.

Then, he tenderly placed them in the crucible, onto the dicine mud that had turned thoroughly blood-red—a hue like molten lava or boiling blood.

As the hearts sank into the dicinal clay, the ritual reached its completion.

In the mont of bated breath, a visible spiritual brilliance flickered.

Inside the crucible, the murky dicine mud instantly turned pure and profound, and within a few breaths, the red slur of blood transford into a kind of ink-like dicinal juice.

A clear and pure ‘Blood Ink’.

And just as the Blood Ink took shape, a whirlwind burst from nowhere, and from the mountainside outside the Great Shaman’s tent, there ca a series of mountainous chants, as if ancient ancestors were shouting and calling out, causing all the Totem Pillars to tremble.

This sudden gale spread all the way to the Redwoods Swamp at the foot of the mountain, sweeping through every branch and trunk within the forest, turning the entire jungle into a cacophony, and the fog and miasma above the swamp rose and spread, diffusing a dappled array of colors.

Thirty-two hunters kneeled on both sides of the tent at this mont, prostrating by its edge.

Animu held up the dicine pot; he reached out, plunging his hand inside, utterly indifferent to the fact that the fresh red dicinal juice—the Blood Ink—in the pot was many tis hotter than boiling water.

Afterward, using his hand as a brush, the old man dipped it in the Blood Ink and motioned for the hunters to lift their foreheads before slowly tracing blood-colored patterns on their brows.

Each hunter could not help but reveal a joyous expression, which then turned to agony, even as they clenched their teeth and forcibly endured.

The fresh red patterns spread from their foreheads into their flesh and blood, spreading and taking root between muscles and organs in the span of a breath, making their breathing thick and heavy.

In the bodies of a few hunters who were extrely receptive to the Blood Ink, tiny scales began to erge.

The air was filled with the scent of soil and the mariti breeze—a sll of mountains and tides, a sign of the awakening of the Spirit of the Mountain Tide.

Animu drew patterns with Blood Ink on thirty-two warrior hunters one by one, but he did not stop there and continued towards the Redwoods Swamp.

In his ears, the trembling of many Totems and the calling of spirits slowly converged into one, like a surging tide.

As ti passed, this roaring and surging sound beca more distinct, finally turning into a deep murmur emanating from the swamp’s depths.

“[Life…]”

As the vague yet soul-shattering spiritual sound whistled back and forth by his ears, Animu’s face was solemn, and the Blood Ink in his crucible had dried up; the dicine dregs had solidified, turning pale.

Only the larger and smaller hearts remained vividly red and pulsed violently, containing an intense vitality.

“Lord of Mountains, Child of the Sea, the pulse of the tide, the mountain’s call…this is the offering made solely for you, the life dedicated to you.”

Muttering the ancient words of sacrificial rites, the Old Shaman stepped into the center of the swamp.

Then, he placed the dicine pot on the murky swamp water and turned to leave.

The Redwoods Swamp trembled slightly, all the trees in the forest shaking.

In the center of the swamp, the mire began to churn, drawing the dicine pot into its depths.

The invisible spiritual sound let out a resounding roar, followed by a greedy sucking noise.

Should one look down from halfway up the mountain, one might faintly discern a chillingly massive shadow in the depths of the swamp, held sacred by the Redwoods Tribe, pulsating and expanding.

It slithered and spiraled, with six points of scarlet light glowing beneath the mud.

It writhed at the bottom of the mire, emitting rumbles and howls inaudible to humans.

The pure sacrifice that took place in the ancestral land of the Redwood Natives did not cause any anomalies in a short ti.

But without a doubt, sothing had occurred.

So ti later, the sky darkened, and Harrison Port entered dusk.

As evening approached, Ian inside the house lit the stove.

He used the poker to stir the charcoal within, sending a shower of golden-red sparks through the gaps between the stove and pot, carrying a trail of smoke.

As the flas grew stronger, he added so wood.

Once the porridge for dinner was well underway, the boy rose to fetch the Spirits Focusing Herbal Water from the cabinet that had been sitting for a day.

—Boom!

A white flash cleaved the dark sky, and thunder rolled as a heavy rain fell upon Harrison Port.

Holding the herbal water, Ian turned to look out the window.

Raindrops blanketed the land, the churning clouds above teeming with unford lightning, occasionally unleashing real bolts that lit up the entire port and coast.

“Tropical weather is normal, but it shouldn’t be this severe.”

He shook his head slightly; five thunderclaps in three minutes ant that Ian was aware that the weather in the Otherworld had evidently more variables compared to his holand.

However, the frequent sumr thunderstorms in Harrison Port, capable of attracting a large swarm of Thunderhunter Jellyfish to nearby Sigh Cliff, certainly fell outside the realm of normal circumstances.

The lightning that flickered and vanished within the clouds carried a disquieting energy that instinctively unsettled Ian.

He had a vague feeling that his teacher’s mission was sohow connected to the true cause of this strange weather.

But now was not the ti to think about these things.

After sitting for a day, the Focused Spirit Potion exuded a peculiar fragrance.

If Ian were to describe it, it was like mint-flavored cologne mixed with the scent of ntholated oil—just a light sniff was enough to bring a cool sensation from the tip of the nose to the lungs.

Upon close observation, Ian noticed that the top layer of the potion appeared different from normal water.

With his Foresight View activated, the pale blue glow emanating from the upper half of the container confird his suspicions.

“It seems that the effective components in the Spirit-Focusing Herb and other herbs are lighter than water, and after boiling and settling overnight, the dicinal quality floats to the top—providing the simplest and most effective step of purification,”

Although Ian was summarizing his thoughts in his mind, his hands did not stop.

After he arrived in the room where his brother Alan was, he swiftly followed Elder Prude’s instructions, scooped up a spoonful of water with a freshly cleaned wooden spoon, and fed it to his still dozing brother; then, he took the light green powder that had settled at the bottom of the dicinal jar and applied it to Alan’s temples and the surrounding area of his forehead.

“~”

Alan was still asleep when the effects of the potion prompted him to open his eyes.

The child looked at Ian with wide eyes, locking gazes with his brother for several seconds before showing a very comfortable expression and closing his eyes to fall into a deep sleep.

“The effect is quite good; his eyes look much more spirited,”

Ian wasn’t surprised at this, for before he administered it to Alan, he had already used Foresight View to predict that the potion contained no dangers and was, in fact, highly beneficial.

Soon after, he himself also took a small amount of the remaining Focused Spirit Potion, as instructed.

As the potion went down his throat, he initially felt nothing, but soon Ian involuntarily shivered slightly.

A cold sensation spread from his throat, throughout his stomach, and down his entire digestive tract, diffusing through his body.

This sensation instantly made Ian, who had felt dizzy and exhausted from practicing his Spirit Energy all afternoon, suddenly awake.

It was as though he had taken a cold shower while groggy, montarily filled with energy.

Even if one’s physical strength was replenished with food and drink, prolonged use of Spirit Energy could still lead to an excruciating feeling as though one had overworked their brain through consecutive sleepless nights.

At his most tired in the afternoon, Ian had felt as though his brain was a glowing-hot iron block—hot, painful, and swollen as if inflad.

After resting for a while, this discomfort had lessened considerably.

But upon taking the Spirit Focusing Potion, Ian imdiately noticed his previously overheated brain and body rapidly ‘cooling’ down, and a continuous, comfortable chill erged.

If he had to make a comparison, Ian felt this sense of comfort was akin to running around outside on a forty-two degree sumr day, and then finally coming ho to chill in an air-conditioned room and enjoying ice cream.

“The dicine is really good!”

Ian couldn’t help but admire, but he was also well aware that the Spirit Focusing Herbal Water was extrely valuable; just this small packet alone could easily sell for seven or eight Talle, and a few packets together might equal his uncle’s annual salary.

The Elder handing over a whole box of the dicine was not just generous; it was as inconceivable as throwing money into water to hear it splash.

It could only be said that such resources, precious to ordinary citizens, were probably just consumable items for trial to the Nobles and the great personages.

“Since it’s harmless, it’d be a waste not to use it,”

Hiliard had not returned yet, and Ian didn’t wait for him.

He finished the porridge by himself and settled his dinner.

After he ate and drank his fill, he sat quietly beside the window, closed his eyes, and took the opportunity while the effects of the Focused Spirit Potion were still present, the ti when his spirit was clear and invigorated, to try sensing the Primordial Seed.

Thanks to the guidance of his teacher Hiliard, and having recently consud a Beast Salmon containing a large amount of Origin Quality,

Ian quickly sensed the presence of Essence within his body, as well as the Virtual Primordial Seed.

He then heard a faint ‘whooshing’ sound, reminiscent of surging tides.

Ian knew it was the synesthesia from Essence Fragnts flowing through the blood in his veins, circulating in every corner of his body and subtly enhancing his physical qualities.

“The Essence flows faster today than before; this afternoon’s practice was indeed beneficial,”

The Essence circulated through the blood circulatory system within Ian, and his muscles, internal organs, and even his cells greedily absorbed it, drawing this life energy.

However, the bulk remained in the Virtual Primordial Seed located at the heart.

A vast number of Essence Fragnts flowed into it, being absorbed and compressed by the actively cycling Primordial Seed, condensing into a more regular form of Origin Quality.

Ian concentrated, and the previously blurry details of the Virtual Primordial Seed beca crystal clear.

By leveraging his past professional experience, along with the past two days of practice and observation, he had gained a considerable understanding of the Primordial Seed’s structure.

Stripping away all the fancy adjectives and cultural connotations, simply put, the Primordial Seed is a storage and conversion device.

It’s structured like a turbocharger, operating via the force of the heartbeat and breathing.

The Origin Quality produced from digested food enters the bloodstream, where it is collected by the Primordial Seed, refined, stored, and then released when necessary.

Origin Quality is a special form of life energy.

Even a small amount of Essence Fragnts circulating in the bloodstream can improve a person’s physical qualities.

When highly pure Origin Quality is released by the Primordial Seed into the body’s organs, it can significantly increase physical qualities in a short period.

This includes absolute strength, neural reflexes, endurance, regenerative capabilities, and overall body resilience, all of which are enhanced across the board.

In Terra World, an ordinary person who lives a regular life with normal eating habits can, if pushed to life-threatening limits, unleash the Origin Quality innately stored in their body and exert strength far surpassing their own limits for a short period.

Stories like a mother pushing a carriage off her child or kicking away a large rock to protect them are not remarkable news in Terra World, but rather, sothing incredibly normal.

In fact, it would be strange if it didn’t happen.

If ordinary people could do this, what about the Sublimator Reservists who possess the Primordial Seed?

Taking Ian as an example, after consuming a Demon Beast Level salmon, even though he was still weak at his core and just a child over eight years old, if he fully released the Origin Quality accumulated in his Primordial Seed, he could exert the strength of an adult man for about fifteen minutes.

Of course, the real function of Origin Quality is not to be used as a consumable in this way.

As the essence of life, a Sublimator accumulates Origin Quality to forge a Sublimation Organ.

If Origin Quality only temporarily enhances physical qualities, using up all energy and even over-exerting oneself, then with the Sublimation Organ in a regular state, one would possess a strength comparable to—or most often surpassing—the surge brought on by releasing Origin Quality.

Therefore, unless truly faced with desperate circumstances, Ian believed that no Sublimator would recklessly use the Origin Quality they had stored.