Th-thrilling!
Vane and the other scientists were so excited they nearly leaped into the air. Wilder's idea had sparked a flurry of inspiration. Vane looked at Wilder, his expression feverish. "Your Majesty, perhaps we could also create one that produces a toxic mist upon detonation, or one that's filled with a spicy, irritating powder! There are so many possibilities!"
"Good. I'll leave that to you. I came here today for another matter." A rare smile touched Wilder's lips at Vane's enthusiasm. He took a light sip of his tea before his expression turned serious once more.
"Get me a pen and paper."
"Yes, sir."
Seeing his change in demeanor, Vane and the others quieted down, their own expressions becoming serious. One of them stood, retrieved a sheet of white paper and a pen, and brought them over. Then, all of them fixed their eyes on Wilder, their gazes filled with curiosity and anticipation as he picked up the pen and began to draw.
The tip of the pen scratched softly against the paper.
A short while later, Wilder set the pen down and looked up at the men, who were all craning their necks in anticipation.
"Take a look." Wilder stood, his face impassive. "I've named this a handgun, model zg01. I've written detailed notes on it. Study it yourselves. I want to see a finished product within six months."
With that said, he had already walked out of the main hall.
Wilder didn't spare a thought for the reactions of Vane and the others, striding out of the Munitions Department without a backward glance.
I've been delayed for quite some time.
Night was just beginning to fall by the time he returned to the Royal Palace. Standing on the wide balcony, Wilder glanced in the direction of the coast before turning and heading toward his bedroom.
Tomorrow, his training would begin.
The next morning, Wilder left the palace, his body coursing with vibrant energy, and went straight to the cliffs behind it.
Without pausing, he took a step, and the air shattered, leaving behind blossoms of white vapor as his body propelled itself upward, layer by layer. In the blink of an eye, he had reached the flat ground atop the cliffs.
Less than a hundred meters ahead lay a silent, primordial forest, filled with a boundless swamp gas. While there was some gas below the cliffs, the concentration up here was on another level entirely.
Wilder climbed a large tree and sat cross-legged on a branch as thick as a man's torso. His sharp eyes scanned his surroundings before he closed them.
It had been some time since he had last trained to develop the properties of his Swamp-Swamp Fruit. The breakthrough he'd achieved then had been enormous, taking him from being unable to generate swamp gas within his body to finally being able to do so. It was a fundamental leap. Now, what Wilder needed to do was temper that fundamental ability.
He had to make the speed at which he generated swamp gas faster, and the amount greater, to lay a solid foundation for future training in release and control.
Currently, Wilder could generate a concentration of swamp gas roughly the size of a compressed apple in one minute. However, he couldn't produce two "apples" in two minutes. If that amount were to dissipate, it wouldn't be enough to poison anyone. So, Wilder's goal now was to change the unit of time for generating gas from minutes to seconds, and to increase the volume from a single apple to an entire apple orchard.
Focusing his entire spirit inward, Wilder felt the swamp gas begin to rise from a mere wisp inside him.
The sun rose and the moon set. In what felt like the blink of an eye, several days passed.
Wilder's body was covered in cobwebs. He hadn't moved an inch from his initial posture, remaining as still as a stone for five full days.
In those five days, no one had come to disturb him, just as he had ordered. All official business was being handled by Claire.
And in those five days, Wilder's training had progressed smoothly. At the very least, his "one apple" had now become "five apples."
In terms of time, however, there wasn't much progress. Or rather, there was some—he had managed to reduce the time from one minute to fifty-nine seconds.
That was the frustrating part.
Wilder knew this couldn't be rushed, and he had no intention of fixating on a single task until he was dead. So, after five days, he finally moved.
The moment he opened his eyes, the cobwebs on his body were instantly incinerated by a wave of heat. The boiling energy coursing through his veins made his skin flush red, as if he had been scalded by boiling water.
This application of Life Return was extremely dangerous. Even in his current state, Wilder didn't dare maintain it for long—two minutes at most, or he would risk his life.
But in this state, he was at his strongest, with every aspect of his being enhanced.
Wilder had discovered this application of Life Return not long ago. He had developed it based on his failed experiment back in Impel Down, a technique designed to comprehensively boost his combat strength. It was a method born out of the pressure he felt from the threat of Big Mom.
He didn't know if it would kill a thousand enemies, but the self-inflicted damage was certain.
There was a river in the forest, but its surface was also shrouded in a hazy layer of swamp gas.
An ordinary person wouldn't dare to enter the water, but Wilder was no ordinary person. The swamp gas wasn't exactly nourishment to him, but neither was it an "enemy." The two could coexist.
Aside from the gas, the river water was quite clear. After taking a bath, Wilder returned to the base of the cliffs.
Next, he had to deal with the five days of accumulated work. Claire couldn't make all the decisions on her own. The time Wilder had for himself was squeezed from the narrowest of cracks.
Wilder sighed. "It will be better once everything is on the right track."
He couldn't avoid his duties now; all he could do was try to accelerate the process of getting things in order. Because of this, he had been working tirelessly, rushing between various affairs.
The Talent Development Department was his highest priority, as it was tied to a series of his upcoming plans. It was the foundation for everything to come; without it, nothing could be built.
Institutional reform was a massive undertaking, but it also needed the Talent Development Department to pave the way and cultivate the necessary personnel.
Then there was the issue of the scientific gap. The current Talent Development Department was meant to prevent such a gap from ever occurring again by nurturing scientific talent now.
"Boss, the shipment of munitions for the Marines has been completed," Claire said, walking over.
"I know. Have Kuchiel handle the delivery to the Marine fortress. Remind him to collect the payment—not a single Beri less than eight billion."
Wilder was lounging on a beach chair by the swimming pool in the rooftop garden of the Royal Palace. Wearing sunglasses, he occasionally picked up a document from his side to review while contemplating matters of institutional reform. He paused for a moment at Claire's words, then replied without lifting his head.
He wasn't worried about the Marines right now. They wouldn't dare to default on their payment, because the Marines represented justice, and a just force wouldn't do such a thing. Of course, the most important reason was that he, Wilder, was also just—and powerful.
Just as Claire acknowledged the order and was about to turn away, Wilder suddenly remembered something. "By the way, how is the Bread-Rice growing?"
"The people are all following the scientific methods for planting and cultivation. The growth is excellent, and they have already borne fruit. Each stalk has eight to twelve grains of Bread-Rice. When they are fully mature, each grain will grow to the size of an apple. One stalk will be enough to fill an adult man's stomach."
This yield was monstrous, but considering the large appetites of the people in this world, an adult man would eat three stalks a day for three meals. Right now, the Bread-Rice fields cultivated by each household yielded an average of about twelve hundred stalks. This meant that for a single adult male, this yield could last for 400 days.
Considering that the women in this world also ate a considerable amount, if the average household's consumption was calculated as equivalent to four adult men, then the yield could feed a family for one hundred days.
Wilder was very satisfied with this number, but he felt it still wasn't enough. He said to Claire, "Continue to open up new fields. Expand beyond the twenty-five districts. Since we won't be expanding into those areas anytime soon anyway, we might as well level the mountains and rocks and plant grain."
Wilder's reasoning was that the current crop was nearing maturity. At this stage, both the civilians and the members of Morass could let the Bread-Rice grow on its own without further tending. This meant the people had some free time on their hands. Why not use that time for something else?
"Call a meeting with the Agricultural Research Institute under the Science Department and the Construction Department." After some thought, Wilder decided to hold a meeting on this matter. He had some ideas in mind that he couldn't decide on too rashly.
"Yes, sir."
Soon, a group of people arrived at the palace rooftop upon receiving the command. Wilder sat in a high-backed chair at the head of a long conference table. The others, including Claire, sat on either side.
For a moment, no one spoke. To be precise, they didn't know why Wilder had summoned them, so they didn't know what to say. This was a group of people dedicated to science and construction. Wilder knew they were very different from those who played politics, so he got straight to the point.
"I've called you all here today mainly to inquire about your work and to assign some new tasks to your departments."
"Head of the Agricultural Institute." Wilder looked at a balding, middle-aged man sitting in the second row on his left.
"Present."
"Is there any new progress regarding the Bread-Rice?"
"Your Majesty." The bald man stood up, bowed to Wilder first, and then said, "Before I answer your question, allow me to first explain the relationship between the environment of Morass and its crops. Generally speaking, Morass is a natural treasure trove for agriculture! For one thing, it never lacks water, and we all know how important water is for plants."
The others nodded at this, listening intently. "And Morass is a kingdom that will absolutely never lack for water. In fact, eighty to ninety percent of its environment is swampland. Swamps are full of danger, but also full of life. What if we could plant crops in the swamps?"
"But as far as I know, the swamplands in Morass are not currently suitable for the growth of any edible plants," someone interjected, having understood the implication in the man's words.
The bald man smiled confidently. "That's what I was about to say." He turned to face Wilder, bowed again, and said, "Your Majesty, my team has discovered a plant, one with a tenacious life force that allows it to grow in the swamps."
The man fumbled around in his pockets and finally pulled out a finger-sized glass bottle. It was half-filled with mud that looked like it came from a swamp, and a vibrant green "weed" was growing in it.
The bald man held up the bottle for Wilder and the others to see. "This plant is incredibly prolific. Its roots, stems, and leaves are all edible. They have a crisp texture. The only drawback is that they contain trace amounts of toxins. Long-term consumption or eating too much at once will damage the body's functions."
"…"
"Which means," he continued, his voice rising with excitement, "if we can remove the toxins that are harmful to the human body, then it becomes edible! And we won't even need to plant it! This plant is everywhere in Morass! We are currently researching a method to cultivate a dominant strain of this plant. Once this dominant strain grows, its seeds, or something like its pollen, will drift onto the naturally growing plants and affect them, causing their toxicity to decrease with each generation. Eventually, every one of these plants in all of Morass will become an edible wild vegetable!"
The bald man was agitated and thrilled as he spoke, and everyone who heard him was stunned.
If they could truly achieve this, it would be a monumental achievement.
"Hahaha! Good! This idea is excellent! You have my full support!" Wilder laughed heartily, casting an appreciative look at the bald man. The idea had shaken him as well. If this truly succeeded, it meant that, at the very least, food would be readily available everywhere.
"Yes, sir!" The bald man was thrilled by Wilder's support. "Please rest assured, Your Majesty. Our research has already made great progress. At the earliest, we will succeed in half a year; at the latest, one year! After that, it might take some time for the plant to undergo its generational turnover."
"Don't worry, we can afford to wait." Wilder naturally understood his meaning—even if the research was successful, it would take a significant amount of time for the effect to truly take hold. Wilder waved his hand, dismissing his concerns.
"However, for now, our main focus is still the Bread-Rice. After all, it will be our future staple food."
"Yes, Your Majesty. We are currently developing the second generation of Bread-Rice. I believe it will be ready soon. Both the yield and the growth rate will be two to three times higher. Actually, we have already achieved this, but we ran into a problem. The improved Bread-Rice has become toxic again. We are now working hard to eliminate this toxicity."
"Mm, everyone is working very hard," Wilder said with a smiling nod.
"Well then, the main reason I came here today was to assign you all a few tasks."