Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

Ten minutes later, the three were gathered around the pot.

Shiller poured the freshly chopped herbs, which looked like celery, into the pot, while Wanda leaned in to look at the bubbling cauldron, holding a bottle of bright red potion and asking, "Is this good? Should we add more?"

Strange, using broken iron pokers as makeshift chopsticks, dipped into the soup base and said, "Not bad, we could add a little more. Shiller, have a taste."

Shiller dumped in another plate of chopped vegetables, then said, "Go ahead and make it spicy; if I can't eat it, I lose."

Wanda gulped, poured in some more red potion, then said, "Okay, that should do it. The Fire Seeds from this world are spicier than the chili peppers from our world, plus this is the refined Fire Potion. Too much would just be overkill."

Strange tasted it again and then said, "It feels like it's missing something. Do we need to add some salt?"

At that moment, Shiller also took a sip and said, "I think it lacks some sourness. Isn't there an herb called Vinegar Herb?"

Wanda stood up to get it and quickly brought back some herbs with small fruits on their branches. She smashed the herbs in a mortar and then poured them into the pot.

Shiller and Strange tasted it again and both gave it a thumbs-up. Shiller brought over the semi-coagulated blood, then said, "Trust me, this is definitely not some dark cuisine."

"Of course," Wanda said, "it seems like only Americans don't eat blood products. I quite like black pudding, with the smoothness of a dessert and the flavor of meat."

Both looked at Strange.

"This is discrimination against Americans," Strange said. "I'll give it a try, but I really can't stand the smell of blood. If there's any hint of it, I'm out."

"Guaranteed not. I'm outstandingly good at seasoning blood tofu." Shiller added the prepared blood tofu into the pot and threw in some fresh herbs from the side, then said, "I just didn't expect you to have such strong tastes. I always thought surgeons preferred a lighter diet."

"Because most top surgeons come from wealthy backgrounds, they adhere to a light and healthy dietary philosophy," Strange huffed. "When I first started out, I was mocked by my whole department as an inexperienced poor joker because I bought a spicy grilled corn from a Mexican stall on my way to the hospital."

"They are the ones with no experience," Wanda said, dividing brass plates between the two, then said, "I bet even God likes spicy grilled corn."

"But are we really okay doing this?" Wanda looked at the portrait with some concern.

The portrait wasn't hanging on the wall now; it had been taken down. More importantly, it was placed on an operating table, facing the direction where patients would enter.

The eyes in the portrait were still bleeding, but the blood flowed into the corridor. Even sitting at the table, Wanda could vaguely hear someone cursing from down the corridor.

"What's wrong with that? We're just reclaiming a bit of interest," Shiller said with a sneer.

Wanda wasn't sure what grudge he held against those at the end of the corridor, but she figured it was just some blood, at worst a bit dirty; it couldn't possibly lead to any big trouble. She didn't pay it much attention.

The three of them happily enjoyed their hotpot.

Wanda and Strange could both handle spice because they both came from poor backgrounds and weren't used to light foods, enjoying something with a bit more kick. Shiller also loved spice, so their preferences matched perfectly.

Strange fished out a piece of blood tofu from the pot, smelled it first, then cautiously took a bite, chewing it in his mouth, and was hit with such spiciness that he gasped for air.

He couldn't help but cover his mouth with the back of his hand and said, "Why is this so spicy, even spicier than the vegetables?"

"It really absorbs the spice," Shiller said. "Last time didn't you say you wanted to take the Sky Train to Sichuan for hotpot? This is a signature dish from there."

Strange took another careful taste and said, "Indeed, there's no smell of blood, but it also lacks any other flavors, it's just spicy."

"The texture though, don't you think this slippery texture is fantastic?" Wanda asked. "I even think this method is better than black pudding, especially if cooked for a few seconds less, so tender and smooth."

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Shiller gently tapped the table and said, "So refined, my lady, I too enjoy slightly undercooked tender blood."

Eating with others who share your taste is always joyful. The three chatted and ate, spending a pleasant morning together.

Meanwhile, the one at the end of the corridor seemed to run into trouble because of the blood. Despite not having treated patients for most of the morning, there was no punishment, and the wooden monster did not reappear.

After the meal, both Shiller and Strange felt sleepy. Wanda waved her hand and said, "I'll watch over here; you go rest."

Shiller nodded and he and Strange left for the break room, one after another, dumping all the remaining ore into the furnace to let it slowly burn. They didn't sleep on the bunk beds; Shiller on the bottom bunk, while Strange slept in the armchair beside the fireplace.

The two, well-fed and content, soon fell asleep. Perhaps because they hadn't slept the night before, they entered the dream realm exceptionally quickly.

Shiller returned to the perspective of the little boy. The doctor with the bird beak mask, after extracting a tooth from the boy, finally stopped the abuse and took some blood with a syringe instead.

Shiller took this opportunity to observe the doctor. As he raised his arm to draw blood, Shiller noticed that under the black robe, the man was actually wearing a suit.

This means that the doctor is very likely not a Middle Ages Bird Beak Doctor, but someone from a later era who deliberately dressed up this way.

Excluding the possibility that he is a role-playing enthusiast, then either he is concealing his identity, or he is trying to scare people. Shiller feels it should be both.

Having nothing to do but watch the storyline unfold was too boring for Shiller. He was somewhat distracted, but all of a sudden, the little boy headbutt the mask of the Bird Beak Doctor who was drawing his blood.

There was a long beak in front of the Bird Beak Doctor's mask, which made the center of gravity of the mask lean forward, and the doctor's binding of the mask wasn't very tight. When the little boy hit it, the mask came right off.

Shiller became alert immediately. He stared at the face revealed behind the mask, and then, to his surprise, he discovered that it was Dr. Foster.

The doctor, who looked kind and friendly in portraits, suddenly showed a ferocious expression. He gritted his teeth, moved close to the little boy, and said, "You damned troublemaker! A bad seed doomed for Hell! I'll make you pay for your actions!"

After that, he grabbed a scalpel nearby, forcibly pried open the little boy's mouth, and yanked at his tongue.

Shiller immediately knew what he was about to do and wanted to make the boy struggle, but he couldn't manage at all. As the scalpel drew closer to the tongue, Shiller snapped awake.

And in the minute just before he awoke, the fireplace began to flicker continuously, with the color of the flames turning white. This signified that the temperature was rising rapidly.

The ore, which had shown no signs of melting, suddenly started to melt, turning completely liquid and trickling down the funnel into the tray Shiller had prepared.

The temperature inside the room also started to climb, turning it into a scorching summer within a few seconds. Shiller and Strange were almost simultaneously awakened by the heat.

The two of them noticed the abnormal temperature inside the room and hurried out the door. As soon as the door to the resting room was closed, they looked at each other.

"What the hell is going on? Was there a problem with your furnace?" Strange asked.

"How could that be," Shiller replied. "The temperature rise is normal; otherwise, how could we smelt metal ores? Just wait, we can start casting soon."

The fireplace kept blinking, faster and faster. The temperature in the room increased to a level unbearable for humans. However, it seemed that the heat couldn't transfer through the wall, only the doorway was quite hot.

Shiller truly believed this was normal, because even before the blast furnace was built, the fireplace could burn a grown man to death in a matter of minutes. And the blast furnace itself was meant to increase the flame temperature, so the rise in temperature was normal; it would have been a failure had it not risen.

Additionally, the original fireplace had a large opening, intended to transfer the heat outward to warm the room. However, the blast furnace was designed to minimize openings to let the internal temperature rise even higher. Hence, at the base of the blast furnace, there was just a small opening for adding more wood.

The flames inside grew fiercer, seeming to condense into a sort of monster, but since the opening of the blast furnace was too small, the monster couldn't climb out and was trapped inside, causing the fire to burn hotter and the metal to smelt faster.

Shiller didn't concern himself with the situation in the resting room anymore. He went over to check the portraits, pulled one aside, and came face to face with a wooden man who was restoring the eyes in the portrait.

Shiller's eyes widened and he immediately turned to look for pliers. Even though the wooden man had no expression, the frantic crawling back revealed his panic.

By the time Shiller brought the pliers over, the wooden man was gone. The eyes in the portrait were almost complete except for a missing spot still bleeding.

Shiller threw down the pliers with some disappointment, hung the portrait back in its place, and placed a flask underneath the bleeding spot. He thought this blood might also sell for some money, and at least make up for some losses.

The passageway returned to normal, but the next few patients that came through all had blood on their clothes, clearly from the bleeding portrait. It seemed quite a struggle had occurred on the other side.

After processing seven or eight patients in the afternoon, Shiller had another two sets of ore cultivation equipment.

By evening, the wood in the fireplace had burned out, and the temperature finally began to drop slowly.

When Shiller pushed open the door, the room was still filled with a heat wave, but nothing was damaged. Only the shiny metal beads in the tray beneath the blast furnace confirmed to Shiller that his plan was nearing success.

Shiller went over to take out the metal tray and found that all the metals he threw in were smelted and the results were quite excellent, almost ready to be used directly without further purification.

Shiller stuffed more wood into it and took some ore from the cultivation dish to throw into the furnace to burn slowly.

He came in front of the workbench to make molds with the clay he had gotten earlier. He was preparing to cast a fire gun using the solid casting method.

The fire gun is actually the most primitive form of firearm, traceable back to the Yuan Dynasty. This gun has many shortcomings, but its single advantage is that it's very easy to make.

Moreover, those shortcomings are not considered drawbacks in Shiller's eyes. The fire gun's accuracy is not very high, which could be seen as a weakened version of a shotgun, but that is in comparison to modern weapons. As long as this device is made, it is fast and accurate within ten meters, capable of causing serious injury with a single shot.

And what Shiller is making is actually a modern improved version, which still has some degree of accuracy, capable of hitting targets dozens of meters away, at least better than Stark's little revolver.

As for gunpowder, Shiller had been preparing for a while as well. Not to mention that he had almost bought out all the sulfur, saltpeter was originally available as a herbal remedy, and there was charcoal for sale too.

Now he could finally join the trend of transmigrators and experience the joy of hand-mixing black powder.