I Really Didn't Mean To Be The Saviour Of The World

Chapter 673: Chapter 421: Tea_1

Early in the morning, upon waking up, a heavy downpour was seen outside.

The dense vegetation allowed for a greater water retention capacity.

The evaporation effect of plants, much like that of the traditional evaporative coolers used in early industries, could change ground water into vapor.

Abundant vegetation could effectively increase air humidity, causing the rain to be particularly abundant.

This is what people used to call the tropical rainforest climate.

In the 31st century of this timeline, save for some areas with extreme climates, the vegetation in most areas is lush, looking all like tropical rainforests due to the inexplicably high oxygen concentration in the atmosphere.

While the rainfall was usually for an entire day, sometimes it would cause flash floods.

Harrison Clark had been here for ten days, six of which were rainy days with only four days of sunshine.

This was one of the significant reasons that interfered with his efficiency in excavating ruins.

“Sigh, can’t get going.”

Harrison Clark heaved a sigh.

Lately, the electronic device parts collected were increasing in number and could not all be put into the sealed bag.

These items also cannot get wet, so he had no choice but to delay time.

Harrison Clark stood at the entrance of the building, watching the turbulent flow in the city center square, considered for a moment, and decided to wait for the rain to stop before leaving after dark.

He was only a few hundred kilometers away from Oxfordshire. If Oxfordshire was still a mega-city, there should be no other distractions along the way.

When he sets off, he can head straight for Oxfordshire.

Anyway, there’s no harm in waiting while idle, he can’t possibly sit idly here all day.

After some thought, he put on his waterproof training suit, donned the long knife, and stepped out into the rain.

He had already visited most of the key buildings inside the city. There was nothing worth searching for, and he planned to look around the suburbs near this city.

An umbrella?

That was a sign of weakness.

Strong individuals do not fear wind and rain. freewebnøvel.coɱ

With his physical capacity, anyway, he’d get soaked to the skin after a brief run, and hence, he found no need to use an umbrella.

The road was muddy and slippery, and he occasionally stumbled into what appeared to be small puddles, but turned out to be deep traps.

But that was the least of his concerns.

The real threat came when he walked down the slope and suddenly encountered a collapsing mountain.

A violent landslide followed the slope down.

The mud, mixed with crushed stones and collapsing trees, swallowed and devoured everything in its path.

If an ordinary person from the 21st century were in this environment, they would probably not survive more than three days. However, Harrison Clark had no such worries. He moved around in the heavy rain, nimble as a monkey.

At this moment, he was going deep into a range of continuous mountains along the slope.

About two hours later, he finally reached a slope full of low shrubs.

Harrison Clark, with an anxious heart, gradually approached the shrubs, carefully pinched a leaf with his finger, and examined it closely.

“Hahahaha!”

His laughter echoed through the valley, almost drowning out the sound of the rain.

Why was he, braving the downpour, “adventuring” up the mountain?

As a savior who shoulders the survival of civilization, every move he made had profound implications, and he would never act meaninglessly.

After confirming that many of the shrubs on the hillside here were what he wanted, he immediately turned into a hard-working bee in the rain, jumping up and down on the hillside.

The rain was still falling.

He had a leaf in his mouth, whistling as he walked and picking as he went.

At this time, he was collecting leaves everywhere, picking them off one by one and putting them into the pocket behind him.

By the time it was almost dark, Harrison Clark finally returned to the building with a big bag full of damp leaves.

The rain outside was gradually easing, but he did not depart resolutely according to the original plan. Instead, he first soaked the leaves in water to clean them, and then spread them out in the hall.

Looking at the near ten square feet of green leaves spread out on the ground, he grinned and laughed.

He then ran to the motorcycle, took out the parts, and quickly assembled several high-temperature lamps, hanging them neatly over the leaves scattered on the ground.

Turn on the light.

The dazzling light lit up the hall as if it were daylight, and it was as warm as a baking oven.

Then Harrison Clark went to the side to bring out an induction cooker, and then went into the cafeteria in the building, a place he had visited once, to get a big pot.

An hour later, when the leaves on the ground were almost dry, he turned up the temperature on the battery stove and threw the leaves in handfuls, stirring with a large pot shovel.

This step was called “killing the green.”

When the frying was almost done, he did not bother about the heat, but reached in with both hands to knead the leaves.

He waited until he had kneaded the handful of leaves into strips and then fried them again.

Harrison Clark looked at the dried leaves left in the pot, laughed happily, picked up a cup of water, threw in a handful of leaves, and filled it with boiling water.

The leaves that had just been fried dry by him quickly unfurled in the water as if stretching.

When the water was cool enough to drink, he took a light sip and was fully satisfied.

The flavor was very mild with almost no smell, but he felt very content, narrowing his eyes.

He had gone to great lengths for this one sip.

He never imagined that he, one day, would personally pick and fry the leaves. And the leaves he fried were not proper spring tea, but the fallal white dew with pale yellow leaves and a light taste.

For a tea connoisseur who was used to drinking various Earl Grey teas, mother tree Jamaica Blue Mountain, top-grade Inland Taipan, Snowflakes, and Ceylon teas, it was hardly palatable.

But he really had nothing to pick on.

Living alone in the 31st century where everything depends on oneself, being able to make a cup of tea was all one could ask for, right?

The taste might be a bit bland, and the palatability could be worse, but at least it had a hint of tea flavor, which was always better than nothing.

Yes, the purpose of his trip was just for this cup of tea.

Living all alone in this world was already pitiful enough.

If he didn’t find some fun, he was really afraid that he would go crazy.

So when he woke up in the morning and found he couldn’t go further, he immediately had a crooked idea, remembering that there was a tea mountain base near Oxfordshire once.

This tea mountain base produced a lot of Ceylon tea. The taste was very good, and it had a range of grades from low to high.

He himself had taken care of the business of this tea mountain base and monopolized one-third of the annual output of the top-grade Ceylon tea.

As he thought about this matter, he was itchy and uncontrollable. Without further ado, he travelled light and set off to see for himself, trying to strive for self-improvement.

Tea leaves that could be picked at the end of October were all considered scrap, and because of years with no cultivation, the tea varieties somewhat degenerated and no longer suited human taste as much.

His tea frying techniques were also crude, relying entirely on his own feelings.

By his own previous standards, the end product was only fit to wash his feet with.

However, after losing everything, his expectations had sunk so low, he was absurdly happy with the outcome.

Harrison Clark sipped his tea while placing a few more freshly hand-roasted leaves under the scanning port of the Quark Device.

He pressed the scan button. Scanning commenced.

Scanning progress 1%…100%, scanning completed.

He clicked the combine button, combining started.

Buzz buzz buzz…

Harrison Clark’s heart began to accelerate. Expectation welled up within him.

If the combination succeeded, it would make life so much easier from then on.

In the meantime, he took another hefty swig of the lukewarm tea. He felt refreshed.

And then…

Bang!

Psshh…zzzz…

He looked at the smoking Quark Device and then at his nearly empty cup of tea. He fell into deep thought.

It was the second time the Quark Device had blown up.

The last time, it blew up from attempting to replicate the electrically charged Wolf Fang.

He wasn’t surprised by that, he had been prepared.

But this time, he had only tried to duplicate a few tea leaves and it still managed to blow up on him!

Harrison Clark quickly put his cup down, cut off the power, and then opened the Quark Device to inspect the damaged capacitors inside.

Emmm…

The destroyed capacitors were identical to those in the previous explosion.

Damn!

The device is not beyond repair, it’s not a major issue.

The major issue was that he had already drained an entire cup of tea!

So it turns out, drinking this tea carries the same risks as consuming snake gall or wolf teeth; it also has the effect of an antimatter biological battery. And he had unknowingly brewed and drank it!

Harrison Clark never saw this coming. After all his precautions, he still fell into the trap.

He had willingly walked into a trap!

He hurried back to his floating motorcycle, preparing to apply various first aid medicines that had expired five hundred years ago, while hastily repairing the Quark Device. He also racked his brains trying to recall how the Quark Therapeutic Device worked, pondering whether he could modify another backup Quark Device into a therapeutic one.

He considered this for about thirty seconds before decisively giving up.

This was not realistic, it exceeded his capabilities.

He could not do much and could only wait, at the same time conjecturing.

If he was infected, could the Resurrection Factor save him?

What kind of damage could the positrons cause in his body?

An explosion?

An electric shock?

Or would they make my organs fail directly?

What will happen exactly?

Afterwards, Harrison Clark anxiously awaited any reaction from his body.

An hour passed.

Two hours.

Three hours.

Nothing happened.

When Harrison Clark came to his senses, he realized he was again holding a spatula, sweating profusely in front of the frying pan, with the second batch of tea leaves about to be ready.

Eh?

Wait, what… what am I doing?

Isn’t this tea supposed to be deadly?

Why am I making it again?

Ah, never mind, seeing as this batch is almost ready, it would be a waste to throw it away.

After finishing the second batch, feeling slightly tired, he decided to take another nap.

His sleep was restless, he tossed and turned, subtle and strange signals intermittently echoing in his brain, somewhat similar to the symptoms of ringing in the ears experienced by insomniacs.

Another morning came, the city’s central square outside was bathed in sunshine, frogs were croaking tirelessly, and small insects and beasts were regaining their vitality.

When Harrison Clark woke up from his tent, he saw the remaining piles of tea leaves on the ground and again fell into deep thought.

If he had slept peacefully through the night without any incidents, it meant that the tea leaves didn’t harm him.

After hesitating for a moment, he determinedly made another cup of tea.

As long as it’s harmless, why not continue drinking?

After all, he was a Gene-Modified Warrior too, infected with some characteristics of the Z-Bacteria, and supplemented by the Resurrection Factor. He shouldn’t be that fragile. So, he continued to roast tea leaves.

Unable to replicate, he just has to stockpile more by making it himself.

Even though it may seem absurd, there was some sort of inevitability to it.

Drinking tea was one of Harrison Clark’s minor obsessions, surpassing a simple hobby and bordering on addiction.

His emotions were intricately tied to tea, akin to how the human leadership unconsciously amplified their minor hobbies under the influence of the Song of the Wilderness.

If there had been something or someone else to distract him, he would not have been so out of control.

But unfortunately, in the 31st century, he was the only person left on Earth.

He had been alone for a total of ten days.

His internal emptiness was slowly magnifying, providing an opportunity for his obsession to thrive.

When he thought of tea, the stimulus in his cerebral cortex was quietly activated, urging him to action.

What’s done is done, there’s no use regretting it now.

This singular obsession was something he was absolutely loath to give up.

After another busy day roasting all the tea leaves, he packed everything up neatly, and made his exit.

This time, he was heading straight to Oxfordshire.