Chapter 18 — ILK Chapter 18

Brine and Tea Eggs

The adjutant had, of course, received Wu Huansheng’s email as well. Therefore, when Sang Ye requested additional robots to assist in production, she readily agreed.

The base possessed a total of 5,700 robots. Although they all bore the title of "Domestic Robots," they were divided into three categories. There were Armed Models, patrolling 24 hours a day. Their combat power was comparable to a C-rank Sentinel. They made up ⅓ of all the robots. 

There are also Transport Models which made up half of the remaining. They are designed with reinforced shells, extreme temperature resistance, and high-grip strength. These were the base's most vital robots and had the highest maintenance costs.

The remaining few, like the ones Sang Ye was using, are the True Domestic Models. These were actually "unactivated" Armed robots; while their combat systems were dormant, they assisted humans in running the base—supplying nutrient solutions, providing medical logistics, and other grassroots tasks.

Using her authority, the adjutant could requisition three more robots for Sang Ye to use as logistics support. Higher authorization would require Wu Huansheng’s personal approval, but since she was far away at the Snow Mountain Base, she couldn't help for the moment. With four helpers in total, Sang Ye was satisfied. Within half an hour of the adjutant’s departure, the three robots arrived, reported to Sang Ye, and joined the noodle-making line.

Sang Ye left the kitchen to rest. The sky hadn't completely darkened yet, and as she caught a glimpse of green in her small garden, her footsteps faltered. She ran over in disbelief. The black soil, which had been empty when Wu Jianing visited that afternoon, was now covered in sturdy green sprouts—every one of them looking like healthy seedlings capable of bearing great fruit.

The variable wasn't hard to guess. Wu Jianing’s spiritual form was a Dangkang, and wherever the Dangkang goes, a bountiful harvest follows. They bring favorable seasons and nourish the earth and crops with spiritual energy. Even though Jianing was young and her rank couldn't yet be measured, her spiritual form was already this powerful. A divine beast is truly a divine beast, Sang Ye thought.

Seeing the seasoning seeds growing so well, Sang Ye’s mind drifted to the flavors of her instant noodles. Until now, the dishes she’d made had relatively common flavors; even her use of chili had been limited to adding fragrance. Now, she felt she could try something bolder. To avoid flavor fatigue and to use the beef she had already prepared, she decided to develop three new flavors: Spicy Beef, Sour Cabbage Beef, and Tomato Beef Brisket.

Since she was making so many varieties, she decided to prepare a massive pot of Brine. Brine can be used indefinitely; one only needs to periodically filter out old spices and add new ones.

Given the large scale, Sang Ye didn't hold back on the aromatics. She tossed a vast amount of Sichuan peppercorns, numbing peppercorns, dried chilies, cinnamon, star anise, fragrant leaves, ginger, fennel, dried tangerine peel, licorice, rock sugar, and salt into the pot. She stir-fried them until fragrant, extracting a rich red oil. While one could simply boil these in water, Sang Ye’s personal preference was to fry them first to maximize the depth of the flavor.

She then added oyster sauce, light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, and rock sugar, pouring the mixture into a giant vat as tall as half a person. She added the previously brewed pork bone broth and began the simmer. If she hadn't added so much water, the sheer volume of spices would have made the brine bitter.

As time passed, the aroma rose, but Sang Ye knew from a single sniff that it was far from ready. Old brine should be a deep, dark red, and up close, it should smell of layers of spices blended with the mellow essence of various ingredients cooked over time. Once the brine bubbled, she skimmed off the foam—a task she would later delegate to the robots.

The maintenance of brine followed the rule: "Boil twice in spring/summer, once in autumn/winter, then store in cold silence." This meant boiling it daily to preserve the essence and remove residues that might cause spoilage. Many legendary restaurants began with a "secret recipe" brine; without it, they couldn't attract customers or last long. Some claimed to have "century-old brine," though after so many replacements of ingredients, it was no longer the original pot of liquid.

Brine can boil everything, but vegetables and soy products must be cooked in a separate pot of diverted liquid. Once brine touches vegetables—especially tofu—it can no longer be kept fresh and will spoil quickly.

With brine this rich, there was no need to caramelize sugar for the beef; the liquid would quickly dye the meat a bright, translucent red. Sang Ye packed the blanched beef into fine gauze bags and lowered them into the vat, letting the liquid slowly permeate the muscle fibers. She also added dozens of chicken legs and feet to enrich the broth—her own special touch. In Shifang Grotto, everyone had their own method and spice ratio for brine, which was why every city’s restaurant had a slightly different flavor.

Sang Ye then prepared the other bases. All three flavors were simple yet contained hidden complexities. The Spicy Beef Sauce had a handful of coriander tossed in after the oil and spices were fried. It harmonized the ingredients, proving that "refreshing" and "heavy" flavors could coexist. 

For Sour Cabbage Beef Sauce, most commoners used Napa cabbage, but Shifang Grotto used a specially bred variety called "Gan Bai." It had long stalks and grew as tall as a person. It was too tough for anything else, but when pickled in salt water for a few days, it became soft, dark, and perfectly tangy—a masterpiece when paired with beef or plain congee. Because it was first grown and served in winter, they called it "Snow Cabbage."

For the Tomato Beef Brisket Sauce, she didn't use the brined beef, as the two flavors would clash and overwhelm the sweet-and-sour profile of the tomatoes.

Not wanting to waste the heat of the brine, Sang Ye scooped out two pots' worth of liquid, added tea leaves, and prepared to make hundreds of Tea Eggs. She used Thousand-Floating Mountain Emerald tea. This variety was produced in large quantities but was despised by tea connoisseurs as "low-grade" because of its overpowering scent. However, for tea eggs, that penetrating aroma was exactly what was needed. There was nothing worse than a tea egg that tasted like a plain boiled egg; in the mortal world, a vendor selling flavorless eggs might have them thrown back at their face. She put 50 eggs in a batch, simmering them for hours.

By the time the last batch of sauce was tucked into the freezer, it was already the early hours of the morning. Sang Ye finally had a moment to rest and opened her terminal.

Two messages from the bank awaited her.

[Black Tower Base Account G000001 has transferred 10,000.00 Star-credits to you at 20:16.]

[Imperial Court Account A000002 has deducted 10,000.00 Star-credits at 20:17. Account balance: 2,000.00 Star-credits. Remark: Compensation repayment.]

Sang Ye: "?"

What? Is my account just a transit stop? The money slipped away before I even saw it!

She felt a surge of irritation, but thinking of the crimes her host body had committed, she sighed helplessly. Those Sentinels weren't exactly "innocent," but they didn't deserve to be crippled or killed.

As a Growth-type Guide, the original owner had mental power that had room to break through, making her less stable than a Fixed-type Guide. The Sentinels at the First Military Academy were all of noble birth—powerful, privileged, and used to being greeted with smiles wherever they went. The original owner was just unlucky enough to be placed in their class, and she was the only Guide there.

Coming from an orphan background with no backing, she was coerced into following their lead, constantly compromising. But small frictions are like sand inside a clam—not all of them become pearls; over time, they can destroy the clam itself. After graduation, she wanted to stay in the military district as a lower-paid Fixed Guide just to escape her "former classmates." She applied for an internship and secured a position.

But the classmates had their paths mapped out by their families and wanted her to follow the garrison. They ignored her wishes, had her name pulled from her chosen post, and forcibly reassigned her to their unit. They didn't care what she wanted; they only felt she was "safest" by their side.

Years of accumulated sand finally overwhelmed the clam, shattering the shell from the inside. The resulting tragedy was inevitable. The original owner had once felt affection for her classmates; she wasn't without guilt, but she didn't regret what she did.

Now, Sang Ye stood on the soil of Black Tower, and the original owner’s soul was free. It was hard to say who was right or wrong, and as a traveler from another world, Sang Ye felt it wasn't her place to judge. She could only move forward.

The 10,000 Star-credits were clearly an "allocation" from the base. A typical family earned about 100,000 to 150,000 a year. Sentinels and Guides earned much more due to combat risks, and many nobles built their fortunes on the merits of their ancestors. As a B-rank Colonel Guide, Sang Ye’s base salary was 15,000 a month, not counting bonuses.

However, the Empire had laws protecting civilian employment; over 80% of jobs not requiring mental power were reserved for commoners. Thus, there were incredibly wealthy commoners in entertainment, commerce, and trade. Not all Sentinels joined the military; merchants hired them to protect interstellar voyages for pay higher than the army offered.

Thus, 10,000 Star-credits was a significant sum, especially since Sang Ye’s raw materials cost zero, her labor was herself and robots, and the base provided the energy. This was why Shifang Grotto was so wealthy: zero costs, with only maintenance and occasional mortal labor as expenses, all while being tax-exempt as a spiritual sect.

She wondered if this was a one-time payment or if more would follow. She considered deleting the bank notifications to stay out of her own head, but she kept them.

Then she checked her other messages. The adjutant had sent an email explaining the source of the funds: Wu Huansheng had applied for support funds, and the base had issued Sang Ye’s subsidy in advance, based on the ten-day supply standard for the Snow Mountain Base.

Sang Ye’s eyes lit up, then dimmed. She was happy the base was wealthy and paid promptly, but she was pained that the money vanished into her debt the second it arrived.