42. Participation of All

There was no time left for Wu Qingchen to further express his astonishment; CIA field agents entered the cage, and Huang Xing immediately signaled the start of the second phase of assassination training.

This new phase was clearly unsuitable for continued use of props and simulations.

Thanks to the agents, Wu Qingchen himself no longer needed to be stained with blood... Likewise, thanks to the agents, the four cowherds, already battered and bruised, faced yet another round of torment.

Another hour passed, and the second phase of assassination training came to an end. The soldiers promptly released the agents from the cage and loaded them back onto the ever-idling truck. As soon as the doors slammed shut, the engine roared to life, accelerating without hesitation and speeding off from the construction site.

At the same time, dozens of soldiers, specialists, doctors clad in white coats, and over thirty injured oxen, all having completed their "preparations," hurried swiftly to the scene.

For the next hour, Wu Qingchen rode in a specially modified cart, making a full circuit around the site simulating the medieval village of Eckley.

As the cart moved, it would occasionally stop. Each time it did, several experts would leap from the accompanying support vehicles and rush to Wu Qingchen's side.

These experts would first indicate the real-time updated map of the medieval world on the display in front of Wu Qingchen, prompting him to memorize his current corresponding location in the medieval world. They would then have him note certain plants, soil, or stones specific to that terrain, and hand over nearly identical specimens—plants, earth, stones—already prepared, placing them in Wu Qingchen’s cart.

Stopping and starting, the cart eventually returned to the starting point. By then, beside Wu Qingchen’s seat was a large bundle of various vines, a heap of stones, and a mass of assorted branches, leaves, roots, and stems.

Next, using the gathered materials, Wu Qingchen began learning how to make medicines for treating wounds.

The process of medicine making was a sight not for the faint-hearted.

Indeed, the scores of botanists, zoologists, mineralogists, pharmacologists standing by his side—average age well over sixty—were the nation’s foremost experts, with the deepest research, richest knowledge, and most authoritative credentials.

However, regardless of their research, knowledge, experience, or titles, none could conjure tools out of the medieval world.

Thus, science had to bow to savagery, advancement to backwardness.

The result: a group of elderly professors in suits, with little regard for their dignity, sat directly on the filthy ground, kindled small fires, set up the crudest of earthen pots, and, like medieval sorcerers brewing poisons, tossed in all sorts of odd ingredients.

Another hour passed, and fresh medicine was ready.

The medicine was cooled, and under the guidance of the top veterinarians, Wu Qingchen used freshly laundered rags to dip into the medicinal liquid and applied it to the wounds of the oxen. Specially crushed grass stems were then placed around the injuries to aid absorption.

Upon completing this, Wu Qingchen observed that the medicine was quite effective; the agitated oxen became noticeably calmer.

This was only the first step.

Next, guided again by the veterinarians, Wu Qingchen dipped into another pot of medicine, applying it to the oxen’s abdomens, ribs, and waists. These areas, though uninjured, were near vital organs, arteries, joints, and lymph nodes; the medicine was to improve circulation and boost the immune system.

The third step was simple disinfection.

The fourth: preliminary reduction of swelling.

The fifth: stimulation of regeneration.

The sixth...

From gathering herbs, to making medicines, to actual treatment and subsequent care, Wu Qingchen spent at least four hours on the subject of treating the injuries of dairy cows.

By the end, it was already noon. As he sat down for lunch, Wu Qingchen once again felt the intensity of the day’s schedule.

He was the only one at the entire site sitting down to eat. Within his field of vision, countless people bustled about: soldiers, experts, doctors, security personnel—all busy setting up the site, consulting documents, checking equipment, or patrolling the area...

Even beside Wu Qingchen, Huang Xing and several staff officers had set up five massive illuminated screens, seizing every moment to explain the afternoon’s training content. Occasionally, staff would jog over to quietly report to Huang Xing or another officer.

After lunch and a short rest, soldiers brought in uninjured oxen for the next phase of training.

Four hours later, Wu Qingchen sat down again for a break. The simulated medieval village now held nearly five hundred oxen bearing various injuries.

Their mournful lows echoed through the village, most loud and piercing.

This was expected. Only about a hundred oxen had been gathered from the nearby area; the rest arrived in batches. Whether human or beast, injured or not, the first ride in a truck, a train, the subway, or even a large helicopter, would naturally be a bit exciting.

It’s also worth mentioning that the training on how to injure oxen was not particularly smooth—not because Wu Qingchen was reluctant or the trainers were unprepared, but because...

The wisdom of the masses was simply too great!

---

United States, New Mexico, a certain farm.

Watching the TV host endlessly describe the perils Wu Qingchen faced, the ingenuity of his responses, and the necessity of his training, John, drenched in sweat, could stand it no longer. He grabbed the phone and quickly dialed the viewer call-in number flashing on the screen.

Success—the call connected instantly!

A sweet operator answered, "Hello, this is the Mud Wrestling Alliance, how may I—"

"Damn the mud! Damn the alliance!" John exploded, taking a deep breath before unleashing a tirade:

"Damn it, you bastards... I pay thirty-five bucks a month for special TV service, not to watch the end of the world or that damned Wu Qingchen struggling to survive! Even if my head splits in two tomorrow, I want to see mud, fists, and big, muscly guys…"

"Sorry, sir, this is a state department emergency broadcast interruption. Regular programming will soon—"

"To hell with the state department! To hell with your emergency broadcast! I want fists! I want big, muscly guys, you understand? And your 'soon' means what? I've already waited half an hour!"

"SORRY, sir, we sincerely apologize—"

"I don’t want apologies! I want my mud wrestling back! Get that damned host off the air, let Wu Qingchen die for all I care! Hurting a cow isn’t so complicated, is it? Dig a pit, toss in a few rocks—these dull, heavy beasts can’t keep their footing, they’ll roll over a few times. Even on flat ground, they’ll break a few bones! Damn Wu Qingchen, damn the cows, damn—"

Beeeeep... The call was cut off.

"FUCK..."

Glancing at his even more dejected brothers, John slammed down the phone in frustration.

Three minutes later, the roar of engines and screech of tires erupted outside. John walked to the window and saw a cloud of turf and dust—two pickups with police emblems speeding toward the house.

"FUCK! That bastard Carl actually ratted me out! Good thing I didn’t give him the last five grand..." John snatched his wallet and ran for the opposite window.

But he stopped abruptly.

On the other side, four pickups.

They sped straight for the cottage, and before the engines fully died, over twenty heavily armed officers leapt out.

Ten seconds later, John, hands raised high, forced a smile. "Hey... hey... take it easy, I didn’t kill the accountant—it was Kate! Kate took the money and left... I swear I don’t know where Kate is..."

"Oh? Kate?" The ever-unfriendly sheriff approached. "We meet again, Mr. John. You’re in luck—the CIA wants to talk to you. About cows, Wu Qingchen, and fists... But it seems I ought to come along too, since we now have to discuss Kate and our poor, missing accountant..."

---

Scenes like this played out around the world.

Whether by accident or design, around 9 a.m., just two hours after Wu Qingchen awoke, information about the solution for the medieval world’s crisis, as well as details of his training, began to appear on the internet, radio, television, and other channels in countries both acknowledging and denying the celestial phenomenon.

Immediately, countless curious, skeptical, pessimistic, or excited people flocked to every available forum. Webpages, phone lines, and radio feedback were instantly flooded with questions, outrage, complaints, and opposition...

To be specific, these responses—driven by intense emotion—were filled with graphic descriptions of exposed organs, opinions on reproduction, thoughts on human-animal intimacy, as well as creative and imaginative musings about various heads of state, their relatives, friends, and more.

Nevertheless, regardless of ideological or moral differences, government regulators worldwide almost unanimously chose to turn a blind eye.

They had no choice.

The moment it began, staff officers everywhere mobilized, assembling massive teams to collect and analyze responses from every channel, with no time to worry about whether the language was excessive or indecent.

Among these responses, suggestions like "Mr. John’s"—those with potential value—were filtered and sent to the information center. Once verified as effective or useful for Wu Qingchen’s training, they were relayed with the highest priority to the command center, and from there to the training coordination team.

The results were remarkable. In fact, many of the assassination and raid methods used in the second phase of Wu Qingchen’s training came from civilian suggestions compiled by the staff—if one counts hitmen, enforcers, drug lords, and mercenaries as "civilians."

With the participation of seven billion people, if the original staff had a truckload of ways to kill a cowherd, the addition of public input meant the index alone could bury the entire cowherd clan ten times over.

The same held true for methods of injuring oxen.

And, given more time, even more people took part in this exercise.

Thus, during the ox-injury training, assistants kept quietly reporting updates to Huang Xing, and Wu Qingchen’s lessons were repeatedly interrupted and modified, with many bizarre, devious, and ingenious methods added on the fly.

Time flew by. As dusk fell, training for treating dairy cows, injuring oxen, avoiding torrential rain, comforting family, making tools, and speeding up farm work—all crucial for emergency awakenings—were completed one by one, and Wu Qingchen grew noticeably more at ease.

After a dinner that passed countless safety checks—hearty, abundant, piping hot, and, for reasons unknown, increasingly similar in ingredients to those of the medieval world (though still delicious)—and after some rest and exercise, Wu Qingchen finally began to study more routine subjects.

Night passed quickly, and at around ten o’clock, as Wu Qingchen began to yawn, Huang Xing spoke softly into his radio. Orders quickly came, and the day’s training ended soon after. Wu Qingchen returned to his room to rest.

At 10:45 p.m., May 11, 2012, Wu Qingchen’s eyes closed, and his consciousness gradually faded.

---

"Los..."

"Brother..."

Hearing the familiar, slightly worried voices of Grace and little Nina, Wu Qingchen opened his eyes.

January 27, 0001, at 10:22 in the morning, in the medieval world, Wu Qingchen opened his eyes once more amidst a torrential downpour.