Inside the government offices of Chengdu, the gathered officials finally had the leisure to look back at the dense records copied from the light screen.
The screen had appeared far too suddenly. There had been no time to prepare, no chance to follow the now-familiar ritual of "sending gifts." When the text briefly paused, Kongming had seized the moment, dragging Zhang Song—local expert and native son—outside for a hurried inspection. By the time they returned, they were each holding a clay jar, meant as an offering to that distant "descendant" in the future.
Now, Kongming took the handwritten notes from Pang Tong and read through them carefully.
When he reached the section describing how Cao Cao's skull had been exhumed and studied in the future, Kongming paused. For the briefest moment, something like respect flickered across his face.
"It seems," he said calmly, "that the traitor Cao has finally done something useful for later generations."
Pang Tong couldn't care less about Cao Cao's head. He tapped the latter half of the notes instead.
"This part here—the so-called 'whaling industry.' It claims that it triggered an entire 'Industrial Revolution'?"
Kongming's interest was piqued. He considered it carefully.
"A whale… a creature so enormous it crosses oceans, capable of swallowing ships whole. Sixty feet long, ten feet tall. How does one even capture such a thing? And more importantly—what use could it possibly have?"
Pang Tong had already done his homework. He spoke with confidence.
"A whale is nothing more than a giant fish. And fish are caught for their meat, skin, oil, and bones. The uses of oil, bone, and hide are obvious—even a farmer would understand them. But the meat… do you know how much meat one whale yields?"
He paused for effect.
"Ten thousand pounds."
Pang Tong's eyes shone as he continued.
"Combine that with the 'canning' technique we saw earlier. Suddenly it becomes clear—if every part of a whale is used, a single whale is a mountain of gold."
Kongming, however, shook his head slowly.
"Whaling requires seaworthy vessels, refined ironworking, and advanced equipment. None of those can be lacking. And if we already possessed ships and iron of that caliber, then…"
Zhang Fei burst out laughing.
"Then I'll just lead an army to seize Yizhou and Zhuya, and from there push straight into the South Seas!"
It was a bold dream—but still nothing more than that.
Forget ocean-going ships. They hadn't even reclaimed Guanzhong yet. Kongming silently calculated the cost of researching and constructing such vessels. The expense would be astronomical. Far better, for now, to accumulate wealth through the Silk Road.
He pointed to another section of the notes.
"Boil all water. Cook all food. Drive away mosquitoes. The future summarizes hygiene in just a few simple rules."
He sighed softly.
"It is unfortunate that our medical knowledge is still so limited. My Lord—these rules must be enforced throughout Yizhou."
Liu Bei nodded at once, then glanced toward Fa Zheng.
This man—whom history would later call Liu Bei's closest confidant—was currently staring at Pang Tong with open admiration.
Liu Bei felt a faint sting of jealousy, but he gave his order without hesitation.
"Zichu, Xiaozhi—the records say both of you die young. Remember these three rules well. Once the Divine Physician Zhang or his disciples reach Chengdu, you will submit to regular examinations. Caution is better than regret."
Liu Ba nodded vigorously; he valued his life too much to argue.
Fa Zheng bowed as well, deeply touched. He had spent years ignored and sidelined under Liu Zhang—he had no intention of dying just as he finally found a lord worth serving.
Kongming remembered something else.
"My Lord, what of the 'stone coal' I mentioned earlier? If everyone must boil water, firewood alone will not suffice."
Liu Bei smiled reassuringly.
"When I was in Jiangzhou, I visited Cheng Ji. He promised to search for coal deposits. It is said that 'stone coal' has been found roughly a hundred miles south of Jiangzhou. If he discovers anything, a messenger should already be on the road."
Jingzhou: The Tension of the Unknown
In the side hall of Public Safety County, Jiang Wan clutched his brush so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
The paper before him was blank.
Ma Liang paced back and forth, repeatedly glancing upward at empty air.
Guan Yu sat like a statue, eyes closed, but the deep furrow in his brow betrayed his unease. Kongming had left them behind to record the screen's messages—but this time, the screen had never appeared in Jingzhou at all.
By late afternoon, Guan Yu could endure it no longer.
"Military matters in Jiangling demand my attention. I must return."
He looked at the two scholars and spoke calmly.
"Do not panic. With what we already know, we have enough to reshape the world."
Four days later, a short letter arrived from Chengdu:
Seen. Recorded. As before. Do not worry.
Jiang Wan, who had grown thin from anxiety, finally let out a long breath.
His cousin Pan Jun happened to enter at that moment and asked curiously,
"Cousin, what has unsettled you so deeply?"
Jiang Wan straightened his expression at once. Pan Jun was undeniably talented—but lately, Jiang Wan felt an inexplicable sense of friction around him. Especially now, when the main leadership was absent, Pan Jun seemed… restless.
Soon after, another cousin arrived—Liu Min.
Unlike Pan Jun, Liu Min wasted no words.
"My lord needs men. I am of the Liu clan—I cannot sit idle in the rear. Brother, I wish to join the army."
Jiang Wan was moved.
"Are you certain? The danger is real."
Liu Min laughed easily.
"What is there to fear? A son of Liu should bleed for the state."
Jiang Wan placed a hand on his shoulder.
"General Huang Zhong requires a Chief Secretary in Dangyang, facing Cao Cao directly. Are you willing?"
Liu Min's eyes lit up.
"Facing the traitor Cao at the front lines? That is exactly what I want."
The Road to the North
Jian Yong adjusted his bamboo hat, shielding his face from the dust.
A seasoned traveler, he knew the roads to Hanzhong well. Upon arrival, he went straight to a so-called "Charity House" and formally joined the Five Pecks of Rice sect—earning himself freedom of movement.
He observed these Charity Houses with cold detachment.
The free meat and rice were reserved for elite families and Zhang Lu's officials. For commoners and merchants like himself, it was merely another tax—religion used as a veil.
Double exploitation, he thought, recalling the words of the light screen.
Traveling along the Gallery Roads toward Guanzhong, he found the paths crowded with refugees and merchants alike. Cao Cao, Ma Chao, and Han Sui were locked in war; everyone was fleeing south toward Hanzhong.
He struck up a conversation with an elderly man along the road.
"The situation is dire," the old man said. "Cao Cao arrived in July. Everyone ran. They're stuck at Tong Pass now."
"Will it end soon?" Jian Yong asked.
The old man scoffed.
"It's already late October. Winter will force them to retreat. But don't be fooled—they'll return next year."
"How can you be so sure?"
The old man looked at him with tired, seasoned eyes.
"We people of Guanzhong are battle-hardened. We've seen this cycle too many times. They won't let it go."
He adjusted the bundle on his back.
"So I'm heading to Hanzhong to find good land. Let them kill each other next year—I'll be busy planting crops."
With a sigh, he added,
"Whoever wins, wins. Once enough people are dead, things will quiet down for a few years."
"Then," he said simply, "I'll move back to Guanzhong."