During the half-month wait for his Pioneer Knight status to be approved, Velin's life seemed to have returned to the rhythm of his previous life's laboratory—structured, intense, and with a clear objective.
Count Leman kept his promise. An exquisitely bound family notebook was delivered to his study—the "Ancestral Notes of the Klein Clan."
Inside, it recorded a breathing technique for purifying one's bloodline, along with dozens of complementary alchemical concoctions that could accelerate the process.
This was precisely what Velin needed most at the moment. His system was like a black box; it only told him "how" to do things, never explaining "why."
The curiosity was practically killing Velin, the research fiend.
But these notes perfectly filled the gaps in Velin's knowledge of bloodline theory. He could attempt to reverse-engineer them, turning their anecdotal experience into true theoretical knowledge.
Velin had a hypothesis: the "solutions" provided by the system weren't static. Instead, they were optimal solutions dynamically generated based on the subject's real-time data.
From initially recommending he purify his bloodline to stabilize his soul, to prompting him to activate his talents after his bloodline concentration reached the required standard, everything confirmed this point.
Now, all he needed was a control experiment.
In the afternoon, Velin had Lilia bring Xiaolan to the study.
The girl was dressed in a blue and white maid's uniform.
Perhaps the tailor hadn't anticipated her figure, which was far more developed than others her age. The dress was stretched taut, and with each of her anxious breaths, the buttons on her chest looked as if they might pop off at any moment.
She kept her head down, not daring to meet Velin's gaze, her hands nervously clutching the hem of her skirt. A section of her calf, clad in a white sock, was exposed.
"Don't be nervous. Sit."
Velin pointed to the chair opposite him.
Xiaolan sat down timidly, only daring to occupy the front third of the chair.
Velin hovered the tip of his quill over a new notebook. "How has the training felt these past few days? Following the plan I gave you, with the morning and evening jogs and breathing exercises."
Xiaolan raised her head, then quickly lowered it again, answering in a small voice, "Re-Reporting, my lord... my body... is a little sore, especially my chest..."
When she trailed off, Velin glanced up at her. "What about your chest? Didn't I tell you to report everything to me, no matter how small the detail?"
Xiaolan's face flushed crimson. "My chest... it hurts a little from the bouncing..."
Velin hummed in acknowledgment and swiftly wrote a line in his notebook.
[Excessive movement of pectoral adipose tissue is interfering with cardiopulmonary data stability. A restraining garment must be designed.]
"What about your heart rate? When you run, does it feel like it's about to leap out of your chest? Any changes in appetite or sleep?" Velin continued to press her for details as he wrote rapidly.
"Y-Yes, my heart beats very fast, and I can eat half an extra loaf of black bread for dinner. I also sleep more soundly than before." Xiaolan tried hard to recall every subtle sensation in her body. She couldn't understand why her mysterious master was so interested in such trivial matters.
"Excellent." Velin nodded and activated the system.
He looked directly at the [Stripping Potion] section. As he expected, the list of supplementary ingredients had changed: [...Supplementary Ingredients: 24 grams of root powder from a nascent Mandrake, 1 heart of a Shadow Leopard, 5 grams of iris dew.]
His hypothesis was confirmed!
Just basic endurance training had caused a minor adjustment to the formula. If he were to add training for strength, balance, and flexibility—or even intellect and logic—what other changes would occur?
A thrill of breaking taboos surged through Velin. 'This other world is great,' he thought. 'There's no ethics committee, not even the pretense of needing an informed consent form.'
He looked at Xiaolan, his mind flashing with numerous experimental ideas, which made the hair on her arms stand on end.
"Alright, you can go and rest for now." Velin waved his hand, his mind already immersed in designing the next phase of his experiment. "Pause your training. I'll inform you of your new tasks tomorrow."
Xiaolan, as if granted a royal pardon, hastily bowed and practically fled the study.
For the rest of the time, Velin worked with ruthless efficiency to complete the preparations for his pioneer group.
The first thing Velin did was find Count Leman's steward and purchase twenty grams of standard-quality Original Blood Crystal powder from the family's merchant guild at an internal price. The total cost was only 30 Golden Suns.
He thought back to the "Sunken Ship Market." 'As expected of the black market,' he mused, 'a markup of more than three times!'
Velin didn't resent the black market merchant for his exorbitant prices; after all, merchants profit from their control over channels and information asymmetry.
However, the incident gave Velin a new idea.
He then took on the role of a shrewd businessman, aiming to get the most done with the least amount of money.
At the labor market, he offered terms that seemed almost like a gift to onlookers: no fees, travel expenses and food provided for the journey to the new territory, and land and temporary housing allocated upon arrival. All they had to do was sign a ten-year indentured servitude contract, promising to give the lord thirty percent of their annual harvest.
He recruited fifteen desperate families, a total of fifty-two people.
At the Skull Shattering Tavern, a gathering place for Mercenaries, he avoided the elite who demanded exorbitant fees and instead hired the one-eyed Barrett and his rather unreliable-looking "Gray Wolf" squad. The squad consisted of ten men, hired for a one-year term.
Velin paid a deposit of ten Golden Suns and promised a final payment of twenty more Golden Suns after one year.
This amounted to an annual salary of three Golden Suns per person.
Finally, he converted all the remaining Golden Suns, sponsored by Count Leman and his father, into finished potions from the family's merchant guild—things like Basic Healing Potions, Stamina Potions, and Basic Antidotes. These were liquid assets that sold well in any city.
「Half a month later, at dawn.」
Before the north gate of Green Vein City, a rather shabby-looking procession stood assembled in the biting spring wind.
There were four simple carriages loaded with supplies, ten listless Mercenaries from the Gray Wolf squad, a dozen or so anxious families, and a blonde girl clutching a parcel, following closely behind Velin.
Velin stood by a carriage, saying his final goodbyes to his parents and sister.
His gaze swept over his small, ragtag contingent, but there was not a trace of uncertainty in his eyes.
Ahead lay the unknown Gray Sea Marsh, a savage wasteland regarded by all as worthless.
But in his eyes, that vast saline flat was the first cornerstone of his future, massive laboratory.
"Move out."
He calmly uttered the two words, just as he was about to swing himself onto his horse.
"Wait! Sir Velin!"
The sound of urgent hoofbeats grew from a distance, and a Knight bearing the crest of the Dawn family galloped up, reining in his horse before the procession.
He glanced at Velin and handed him a letter sealed with wax.
"The Count ordered me to deliver this letter into your hands before you left the city."
Velin took the letter, broke the wax seal, and unfolded the paper. A line of familiar, elegant handwriting met his eyes:
[I have heard of the journey you are about to undertake, and I am deeply impressed by your courage. I have enclosed a small sum for travel expenses, hoping it might be of some small assistance on your way.]
[Furthermore, the Gray Sea Marsh area is overrun with demonic beasts and fraught with danger. Please be sure to keep your blade sharp and remain ever vigilant.]
[May the Lord of Eternal Radiance protect you.]