Chapter 136

Gunsmoke, Pinewood, and Black Bread

On the grass mat at the center of the cave dwelling, a silver-haired girl leaned over to examine a wounded man's injury.

Morning light slipped through the cracks in the rock, falling upon the tips of her hair, coating every strand with a holy luster. The once dim and damp mine tunnel now appeared bright and clear because of that ray of light.

Lucy carefully fed a bottle of pale green potion into the mouth of the last wounded man.

"Ugh—" The miner let out a muffled groan as the skin and flesh scorched by flames on his body began to regenerate at a speed visible to the naked eye.

In less than two minutes, the old miner—bedridden for half a month—miraculously stood up.

He trembled as he touched the newly grown skin on his body. Scalding tears streamed down his face, and his legs gave out as he knelt before the silver-haired girl, kowtowing repeatedly.

Cheers exploded throughout the infirmary.

It took quite a while, and only after the supervisor Martha's repeated gentle persuasion did the excited crowd begin to gradually disperse.

Yet everyone who left still bore eyes filled with unshakable reverence. From time to time, someone would remove their hat or lift their skirt hem to salute her.

"Miss Lucy!" Martha's hands trembled as she held the glass bottle. "You really want to give me this divine medicine?!"

The silver-haired girl—Lucy—gave a light nod.

This life potion was her latest creation, made by diluting the rare 'Reversal Marrow Fluid'. Its primary purpose was to keep enchanted beasts alive during live dissections, but it also had nearly miraculous effects on external injuries.

Its only drawback was a considerable level of "contamination"; ordinary people who used it too often might experience mutations.

However, as long as the dosage was controlled, it was entirely suitable for healing.

"Make sure to store it in a lead box. Dilute it one hundred times before use. Each person can only use it once a month."

Seeing Martha hug the potion bottle like a priceless treasure, Lucy turned her head and glanced at Olivia. "Are you satisfied now?"

The latter showed her first smile since arriving at the camp.

"Even if I hadn’t said anything, you would’ve healed them anyway, wouldn’t you?"

Lucy neither confirmed nor denied it. As long as it didn’t affect her personally, she didn’t mind lending a hand.

Olivia glanced at the remaining injured in the corner. “It’s just a pity that the life potion has no effect on pneumoconiosis or the Dream-Eating Black Worm.”

“Well, not entirely ineffective.”

Lucy looked at a miner who had clearly become more energetic after taking the potion.

The essence of the life potion was to replenish the body with pure life energy, allowing damaged areas to recover quickly.

It indeed reduced the activity of the Dream-Eating Black Worm, but for symptoms like pneumoconiosis caused by external factors, it had little effect.

After all, even in her previous life with advanced medical technology, this disease remained a stubborn and difficult condition to cure.

“Maybe I can try using the system to simulate a potion specifically targeting the Dream-Eating Black Worm.”

She hadn’t attempted such targeted simulations before, but with her experience using the system, the feasibility seemed quite high.

“Let’s go. I’ll think of something back at home.”

…

Karash stood frozen in place, as if an invisible hand had seized his throat.

When the silver-haired girl passed by him, she carried a faint fragrance—purer than any flower he had ever smelled in his life.

He caught the sour scent of sweat from his linen collar and instinctively stepped back, afraid that his own odor might taint that sacred presence.

His fingers clenched around the iron pipe involuntarily, the joints creaking under the pressure.

When the girl’s sapphire-blue eyes swept in his direction, Karash felt a fire surge from the soles of his feet to the tips of his ears.

Only then did he notice her boots were spotlessly clean, while his toes, sticking out of straw sandals, were smeared with dark mine sludge.

The iron pipe in his hands suddenly felt scalding. The welded scars along it now looked hideously glaring—like the crisscrossed calluses on his coarse palms.

“This is your work?!”

The cool voice came from behind him, startling the young man into stepping back.

He then realized that the silver-haired lady had somehow appeared right before him—so close he could catch the faint herbal fragrance from her hair.

“This... this is my work. I mean... it’s a failed piece.”

When he uttered the words ‘failed piece,’ Karash’s voice had grown so quiet that even he could barely hear it.

“May I take a look at it?”

“O-of course.”

Lucy took the iron pipe.

Despite its crude craftsmanship and one end already crushed into a flared shape like a chrysanthemum—both the barrel, the ignition mechanism, and the powder chamber clearly indicated that this unimpressive object was a fairly developed firearm. More precisely, it was a form of hand cannon.

She smoothly moved the hammer, then raised the butt of the gun to rest on her shoulder. Looking down the sights, she took an aiming stance and let out a soft—

“Bang!~”

That crisp sound, mixed with a touch of playful mimicry, made the young man's heart skip a beat.

“Y-you know what I was trying to make?!”

Karash was absolutely certain the silver-haired girl had just used the exact correct method to activate it.

He had never told anyone what he was working on. He had never demonstrated the triggering process in front of anyone.

But she knew!

She understood what he was trying to do!

Most importantly, the way she mimicked the motion and sound so perfectly—clearly, the girl standing before him had seen real firearms before!

“Of course I know,” Lucy said, putting down the makeshift gun and brushing off the black mark it left on her shoulder in disgust. “I’m at least half a military enthusiast from the clouds.”

Back in her previous life, she had even planned her honeymoon around visiting the Old Beard’s country next door just to experience an authentic AK-47.

Too bad she never made it there and lost her little brother to boot.

Karash didn’t understand what Lucy’s words meant, but he exclaimed excitedly, “Then you must know what’s wrong with the firearm I made!”

He took a step forward, raising his hand in exhilaration.

“Ahem!”

Olivia’s cough came accompanied by a faint surge of mental strength—it stabbed into Karash’s mind like a drawn short blade.

He hastily withdrew his hand, like a child caught doing something wrong.

Lucy examined the burst iron pipe closely, her fingertips brushing gently over the twisted welds.

In the morning light, the fractured metal surface revealed a lattice-like break pattern.

“There are three main reasons for the barrel explosion,” she said, lifting the pipe into the sunlight. “First is the material—this wrought iron has too high a sulfur content and can’t withstand the instantaneous pressure of gunpowder combustion.”

She scraped a welded joint lightly with her fingernail, and tiny iron filings trickled down like sand.

“Second is the locking structure... Look at this firing mechanism—the impact has already deformed the entire bolt assembly.”

As she spoke, she gave a slight twist to a section of the pipe. The already bent barrel groaned under the strain.

“And finally, there’s a problem with the gunpowder ratio.”

She recalled reading relevant materials in her previous life. Propellant powder, which fell under the category of black powder, produced gas upon burning to propel projectiles—not to cause violent explosions.

The powder used in this firearm, however, was clearly just standard mining-grade explosive.

The explosive power of such powder was too strong, causing excessive chamber pressure and resulting in a burst barrel.

So in summary, the first two issues—material and structure—were secondary. Even wrought iron wouldn’t necessarily fail after just one shot. The real culprit lay in the gunpowder composition.

And that just so happened to be something she knew how to fix.

The question was—should she tell the young man before her?

Instinctively, she activated Soul Scent.

She “smelled” the scent of gunsmoke that signified willpower, the aroma of pinewood that denoted intelligence, along with faint hints of blood and the coarse scent of black bread.