10 Sacrifice (Part Two)

Having met countless farmers and even more experts and professors over the course of two full hours, Wu Qingchen had hastily learned dozens of farming tasks, both in the muddy field and on the adjacent open ground. Or rather, he had only grasped the motions of these tasks—especially how to protect himself effectively while carrying them out. Or, to put it more bluntly: how to slack off while doing farm work!

The training process seemed meticulously arranged. Although the lessons came one after another, the reasonable interweaving of imitation, explanation, and rest meant that after two hours, Wu Qingchen felt surprisingly little fatigue.

But this was not the end. Having just completed another training session on “root digging,” Professor Wang glanced at the densely packed chart in his hand, his gaze lingering on the lower middle section.

At this moment, Jiang Fengming, who had frequently been checking his watch, called a halt once more. “Professor Wang, the training on labor techniques will have to stop here for now. There are currently no further modules. Please have everyone practice the tasks a few more times, and if we have time left at the end, we can make adjustments.”

With that, Jiang Fengming beckoned, and Wu Qingchen immediately followed him.

This time, the new training location was close by. After just a dozen steps, Jiang Fengming and Wu Qingchen came to a stop before two rows of long tables. Each table was attended by several individuals, arranged like workbenches, with an assortment of tools neatly categorized on top.

“This is Director Yu,” Jiang Fengming said, shaking hands with a slightly stout middle-aged military officer, who nodded at Wu Qingchen. “Mr. Wu, you’ve just learned many different labor techniques. I imagine you have several impressions—what is your main feeling?”

“Well…” Wu Qingchen recalled briefly. “It’s very complicated.”

“Why do you feel it’s complicated?”

“There’s just so much content, and many of the tools I’ve never even heard of before.”

“Exactly…” Director Yu’s expression revealed his satisfaction with the answer. “The main reason labor tasks are so complex is that the tools are outdated. And that’s not the only consequence. For example…”

Director Yu picked up a hand rake from the workbench. “This is a hand rake, the first tool you learned to use tonight. Take it and make thirty consecutive raking motions. See how it feels.”

Wu Qingchen grasped the hand rake and, using the surface of the workbench, executed thirty standard raking motions.

“My hand feels a bit sore.”

“Now try this…” Director Yu handed him another tool, also a hand rake, but slightly larger, with a small block of wood at the top of the front end and a slightly curved grip.

“Give it a try.”

Wu Qingchen took the new rake and repeated thirty standard raking motions.

“How does it feel?”

The difference was striking, and quite odd. “It seems much easier, but why is this rake heavier and yet feels lighter to use?”

“It has to do with the center of gravity and human biomechanics.”

The related theories were likely beyond the scope of the training, so Director Yu brushed them off with a simple explanation. “As you can see, improving the tools makes labor easier. That’s what we’ll be learning next.”

“Tool improvement?” Wu Qingchen was even more puzzled. “If we’re going to improve them, why did we just learn how to use those old tools?”

“No, you misunderstand.” Director Yu shook his head. “The tools needing improvement aren’t the ones you’ve just learned to use.”

“In fact, the only tool known to exist in the medieval world is the hand rake. You’ve already seen how outdated it is, and what effect its improvement brings. As for other agricultural implements from that world, we haven’t encountered them yet, but we can be certain that some must be relatively primitive or even dangerous, prone to causing accidental injury.”

“There are precedents on Earth. For example, the earliest plows in Central Asia had poorly designed shafts, which easily constricted the blood vessels of oxen or horses, shortening their lifespan, and were often pulled by humans. Ancient Z-country scythes had excessive curvature and lacked hand guards, making them hazardous to the user.”

“What we’ll be learning next is how to transform the dangerous, outdated tools of the medieval world into the improved versions you’ve just learned.”

Wu Qingchen immediately realized a problem. “But we haven’t even seen those medieval tools yet. Is it possible to improve them?”

Director Yu shook his head slightly. “Agricultural implements are tied to agriculture itself; they have their own logic. From many details in the celestial event, we can extrapolate the development of certain tools. Moreover…”

Here, Director Yu’s confidence grew. “The tools you’ve just learned are absolutely the most advanced and safest in the medieval world, and they are designed without an industrial base, entirely handmade from scratch.”

So that was it…

Wu Qingchen suddenly understood. No wonder most of the tools he’d learned about were made entirely from wood, with only minimal metal at the most crucial parts, and designed as modular components that could be replaced with other materials at any time.

For the next two hours, Wu Qingchen wandered among the rows of workbenches, taught by dozens of professors, experts, carpenters, blacksmiths, and stonemasons about the principles and methods of making various tools.

Of course, mastering the manufacture of dozens of agricultural implements in such a short time was pure fantasy—learning just one or two was already a stretch. In these two hours, the instructors focused on familiarizing Wu Qingchen with the methods of carpenters, blacksmiths, and stonemasons, as well as the principles and simple techniques for improving key farm tools.

By now, it was nearly midnight. Jiang Fengming’s expression grew increasingly anxious, and his watch-checking became more frequent. After finishing the training on tool improvement, he led Wu Qingchen to several other areas, where he learned about food identification, meal planning, personal hygiene, outdoor activity, and emergency handling.

Perhaps due to the late hour, or perhaps by design, these lessons were all extremely brief—barely ten minutes each. The teachers spoke rapidly, covering only the most basic and urgent points.

Then came the most absurd training module Wu Qingchen had ever heard.

“Language learning?” Wu Qingchen could hardly believe his ears.

Is my dream world truly on Earth? Then what’s the point of learning a language? Why bother with training? Shouldn’t they just send the military to surround me again?

“No, it’s not exactly language.” The balding man across from him wiped his brow once more.

Before speaking with Wu Qingchen, this man had just entered through the main door, apparently after a long journey. He was drenched in sweat and visibly exhausted. The other men and women who arrived shortly after him were similarly travel-worn.

After an explanation, Wu Qingchen finally understood: the “language learning” the balding man referred to was essentially an analysis of the facial and throat muscle movements of two men conversing in the celestial event, reconstructing their phonetics and intonation. Combined with their gestures, expressions, and actions, and through cryptology, linguistics, sociology, and a host of other disciplines, they derived the gist of the conversation and used it as a basis to speculate about the medieval world’s language.

Of course, the balding man emphasized that such a flimsy foundation and hastily constructed language system would be crude and full of errors.

“But even if we don’t understand, at least we have a basis for guessing.”

That was his conclusion, and likely the most optimistic outcome for Wu Qingchen after half an hour of language study.

The clock had reached one in the morning. Things became even more urgent—Wu Qingchen could no longer move around. Countless farmers, professors, and doctors formed a long queue, each taking turns to fill in gaps or urgently supplement new important topics from the day’s training.

This bombardment lasted half an hour, and with the line still not halfway through, Wu Qingchen’s fatigue was obvious. Jiang Fengming, keeping close watch, made several phone calls and consulted with nearby officials, finally bringing it all to an end.

Soldiers escorted Wu Qingchen from the cafeteria to a nearby two-story building. His assigned room was simple, without decoration, but clean and comfortable.

After one final check, the soldiers left, and only Li Ziping and Jiang Fengming remained.

“Mr. Wu…” Jiang Fengming began, “the hardest part is the beginning. Frankly, your first moments in the medieval world will be the most dangerous.”

“Before long, you’ll encounter all sorts of situations, face countless accidents, and be threatened both directly and indirectly. But…”

Jiang Fengming’s pace slowed, his tone brimming with confidence. “Even though our training was rushed and temporary, your tutors tonight were the nation’s leading experts in every field. What they imparted to you in these hundreds of skills and experiences would take most people a lifetime to learn.”

“And this was just the most basic, most hurried, preliminary training. With these teachers, and the entire world as your support, given time, not only the medieval world but even modern Earth would see you become a world-class talent, mastering the best of every discipline.”

“With such backing, Mr. Wu, wherever you go in the medieval world, please be cautious, think before you act, never be rash or impulsive. Remember, your path of growth is long and infinitely broad—a straight avenue. For you, and for us, the only thing lacking is time.”

“We can say without exaggeration,” Jiang Fengming declared firmly, “no matter the obstacle, as long as you are safe, you will overcome it; no matter the hardship, as long as you are safe, you will prevail!”

“In everything we do, our fundamental priority is your safety. Mr. Wu, your wellbeing directly affects all seven billion people on Earth. In the face of danger or adversity, your retreat or avoidance is not cowardice, but a great sacrifice for your country and for the planet!”

Such a special and noble sacrifice left Wu Qingchen momentarily stunned.

“Mr. Wu, so far, we have not found the cause of the medieval world’s formation, nor any way to accompany you there.”

Now Li Ziping spoke. When mentioning these two points, he showed little regret, for they were beyond the current reach of Earth. “But that does not mean we are powerless to ensure your safety in the medieval world.”

“While you rest, thousands of advisors will monitor your actions closely. If you encounter a danger you cannot handle, you will be awakened immediately and measures will be taken. If you forget how to deal with something, or feel at risk and truly cannot manage, you can use any of these three gestures…”

The first gesture: Li Ziping looked to both sides, eyes unfocused.

The second: He placed his right thumb between his middle and ring fingers.

The third: He tilted his head and raised his left foot.

“If you maintain any of these gestures for ten seconds, we will wake you at once. But unless absolutely necessary, please avoid using this method, as forcibly interrupting sleep can be harmful, and we must safeguard your health and that of all humanity.”

Wu Qingchen nodded. Unfortunately, none of Li Ziping’s gestures included “nodding,” otherwise, after practicing it hundreds of times today, Wu Qingchen would have mastered the skill.

“Finally, barring emergencies, if you have not awakened naturally after eight hours, we will wake you anyway. That will correspond to the tenth day in the medieval world, so please be prepared in advance.”

Eight hours equals ten days?

Though he was already aware of the vast discrepancy in time between reality and the medieval world, the ratio—nearly thirtyfold—still astonished Wu Qingchen.

At this moment, the clock by the bed approached two. A soldier entered, whispered a few words to Li Ziping and Jiang Fengming, and left at their nod.

“Mr. Wu, that’s all we need to say. We must not delay your rest any longer.”

With that, Li Ziping and Jiang Fengming slowly stepped backward toward the door. Wu Qingchen could see their brows knitting ever tighter, their chests rising and falling, as if countless important instructions remained unspoken.

After much hesitation, they finally reached the doorway. Li Ziping opened the door, stepped halfway out, turned back once more, his lips trembling for a long moment, until all his words dissolved into a soft sigh.

“Take care of yourself.”