Chapter 20 — ILK Chapter 20

Roasted Duck and Roasted Milk

Sang Ye was oblivious to the commotion at the Snow Mountain. Working alongside her robots, she prepared a batch of instant noodles and sauce packets for the hospital, calculated based on their personnel count.

The person in charge of receiving the goods looked at her with a mix of hesitation and hope, asking if they could have a pot of "perpetual soup base"—the kind that could be heated repeatedly to release a constant aroma. Sang Ye was confused at first, but after the official explained the situation, she understood.

It turned out the hospital housed a large group of Sentinels whose mental landscapes had completely collapsed. They were "detained" on the top floor of the hospital, guarded by armed robots and an S-rank General. Most of these Sentinels were highly decorated and famous. When their minds shattered beyond the point of channeling, the Empire couldn't bring itself to treat them like common prisoners, yet they couldn't be left to roam.

Black Tower was the optimal choice. Despite its harsh environment, the planet was "filthy rich" due to the mineral veins, and the authorities didn't spare a penny on facilities. The fact that the base spent a fortune simulating sunlight, day cycles, and fresh air was proof enough. The current Executive Officer, General Ment, even ordered the weather to be changed daily to provide maximum sensory stimulation for the inhabitants.

In the past, the end for a fully rioted Sentinel was either being hunted down by Imperial troops or vanishing into the void of space in their own warships. Now, they could rest here indefinitely, and any outbreaks were quickly suppressed. However, their lifespans were short; women lived slightly longer than men, but most died within twenty years of their landscape’s collapse, rarely exceeding four hundred years of age. Black Tower had already seen many legendary heroes off.

Still, the hospital staff always hoped for a recovery and constantly applied for funds to try new treatments. General Asu Ment, despite her reputation for greed, was exceptionally generous in this regard, often funding these efforts from her private accounts. The request for the soup base was an attempt to use a constant stream of mental energy to nourish and perhaps reawaken their consciousness. If placed by the vents, the fragrance and energy would drift into their rooms.

It’s a desperate measure, Sang Ye thought. It wouldn't last long; "rootless" mental energy was finite and would dissipate within days. Moreover, some strong food scents would cling to blankets and hair, requiring a thorough wash to remove.

A better solution would be to plant spiritual flora all around the hospital and near the vents. Victory through quantity—ensuring the air was saturated with energy at all times. As she prepared the ingredients for the soup, Sang Ye considered tilling the land near the hospital’s backyard or entrance. She didn't have to plant vegetables; she could transplant greenery from her dimension to create a "green belt."

The heart of a pioneer was burning within her. As long as her food worked, the hospital wouldn't stop her from "reclaiming the wasteland" at their doorstep, as it benefited the patients.

After sending off the hospital staff, she checked on her backyard garden. During the last fertilization, she had let Wu Jianing sit on a robot’s arm and circle the plot several times. The crops were growing beautifully; they were already calf-high and bearing green fruit. A few more laps with Jianing and her Dangkang would likely bring a harvest in a few days, replenishing her spice rack.

Speaking of plants, she had collected a large amount of fruit from her dimension over the past few days: apples, pears, dates, and lychees. In the dimension, once the fruit was harvested, the trees could be dug up and chopped into firewood; new saplings would automatically sprout in their place. Sang Ye had been gathering fruitwood for one specific purpose: Roasted Duck.

Fruitwood-roasted duck required a specific oven—square-shaped with two levels. The lower level held the burning wood, while the upper level had a rounded arch entrance and two hanging rods. Both levels required vents to ensure the wood burned fully with proper air circulation. Sang Ye used a fast-conducting composite material—a common sight in the base warehouse—to build it. The interior conducted heat, the middle layer was insulated, and the exterior was painted brick-red to mimic her memories, complete with hand-painted grout lines.

She let the robots finish the assembly. They even added smart switches for temperature monitoring and wind regulation. Per their safety modules, they built the oven near the water reservoir. Once finished, they ran a test fire to regulate the temperature and remove any "new" smells.

Meanwhile, Sang Ye prepared the ducks. These were White Jade Japonica Ducks fresh from her dimension. This breed was large and plump, raised on insects and vegetable leaves in the dimension and hydrated with pond water. Each weighed nearly ten catties, which meant about five catties of meat after plucking and cleaning. She saved the down; later, she could make herself a duvet—lightweight and warm.

She cleaned the offal and hung it up; the intestines, liver, heart, and gizzards would be saved for duck-blood vermicelli soup later. She chopped onions, ginger, scallions, and fresh apples from her dimension, mixing them with pepper and salt. After rinsing the ducks inside and out with warm water, she blanched them with boiling water two or three times to tighten the skin. Then, she stuffed the ducks until they were bulging and sewed them shut with a long skewer.

She mixed honey, sweet vinegar, and warm water to create a "crispy skin glaze," brushing it onto the ducks until they had a honeyed luster that smelled sweetly inviting. This would ensure the skin became crispy and fat-rich during roasting. Finally, she put them in the oven to air-dry. In a natural environment, this would take a day, but here it took only two hours. Sang Ye marveled again at the technology.

As the aroma of honey and fat wafted from the vents, Sang Ye looked out the window. A light snow was beginning to fall, and the temperature was dropping. The base simulated weather blindly; it didn't know that in ancient times, it didn't snow in June, nor did temperatures drop below zero. On Black Tower, you could have a scorching sun one day and snow the next. Scientists believed this variability kept mental power more active and senses sharper.

Sang Ye usually wore her combat suit, rotating through a few sets. They were skin-tight and flexible, making work easy, but this basic model had no temperature regulation. Since she had to go outside to watch the roasting oven today, she rummaged through her storage ring for her old clothes.

Her Junior Sister Rong Cheng’s true form was a Three-legged Golden Crow. Her dropped golden feathers were as brilliant as the morning sun and as hot as fire. Clothes sewn with her down provided constant warmth, even in the harshest winters. Every molting season, the sisters would wait under the tree for her feathers. Being closest to Sang Ye, Rong Cheng always gave her the finest down.

Sang Ye pulled out a long-sleeved cloak made of Cloud-Woven Silk, embroidered with exquisite patterns, with the hood and collar trimmed with golden down. It was enough to combat the base's "snowy" weather.

When the oven chimed, the ducks were dried to a pale honey-yellow. Sang Ye carried two ducks out toward the roasting shed near the reservoir. The robots had passed the high-temperature tests. Sang Ye hung the ducks inside. For fuel, she chose lychee wood. Fruitwood burns without off-smells, emitting only a sweet, fruity fragrance; because of its moisture content, it burns steadily and for a long time, giving the duck a rich aroma.

For this first batch, she watched the process personally to teach the robots. Domestic models weren't suited for delicate work—their manual dexterity was lacking. Even when their combat modules were active, they were oriented toward "mass destruction" rather than precision.

The robots built a roof over the roasting area to keep off the snow. Inside the furnace, the wood crackled rhythmically; outside, snowflakes fell silently on the roof. If she listened closely, she could hear the duck skin "stretching" as it roasted.

Sang Ye took a small tray and put milk mixed with osmanthus and fine sugar into the furnace. After ten minutes, a cup of Osmanthus Roasted Milk was fresh and ready. This was a simple version; a more refined version involved stir-frying flower petals with various syrups before adding dried petals for garnish. But she lacked the right containers. Her storage ring was full, but it didn't have everything—she lacked small vessels like roasted milk jars, griddles, and divided pots.

I’m a good cook, but my pottery skills are mediocre at best, she thought.

The adjutant, accompanied by a young woman, found her in this state. Beside a massive, strange furnace sat a young woman wrapped in a luxurious cloak, gazing at the snow while holding a steaming "drink." This supposedly "notorious" Guide had gentle features, and her flame-red hair glowed against the white snow. She radiated a warm aura that made people want to approach.

Sang Ye noticed them immediately. Her eyes sharpened as she straightened up, cautiously extending a mental tentacle. She discovered the stranger was a Guide.

Aside from Mu An, this was the first time Sang Ye had encountered another Guide at the base. The woman looked at the furnace and then at the drink in Sang Ye’s hands, her eyes full of interest.