Chapter 113
Chapter 113
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Southern Continent Expedition (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The reconstruction work in the port city progressed swiftly.
It was thanks to Seoran and Damcheong handling everything from percussion to orchestration.
Leaving behind the disaster victims bowing and chanting praises to the Earth Mother Goddess, the group headed toward the Great Mountain Sect.
From high above in the sky, the mortal world below looked utterly alien.
Typically, large populations clustered around places where water was easily accessible, like rivers or lakes.
But the Southern Continent was different.
Every city and village was situated far from bodies of water.
Fresh water seemed to be drawn in through aqueducts.
It was clearly a location chosen with flooding in mind, obvious to anyone who looked.
Whether out of fear of typhoons or earthquakes, high-rise buildings were nowhere to be seen no matter where one looked.
Small reservoirs built at regular intervals were clear signs of preparations against both drought and floods.
The cities of the Southern Continent were shaped in the optimal form to minimize damage from natural disasters.
Seoran suddenly grew curious and asked Yang Ribak.
“Yang Susa, all the other cities are far from water, so why is the port city the only one dangerously located right on the coast? Even with the embankments built.”
“It’s because of salt—specifically, sea salt.”
“Can’t you just use rock salt?”
Salt made by boiling seawater is called sea salt, while salt mined from deposits is called rock salt.
Sects like the Black Bamboo Sect or Seaside Gate sourced rock salt through the underground world and sea salt through Seaside Gate.
An expedition member who had been listening quietly spoke up.
“Ryu Susa, if you only eat rock salt without any sea salt or seafood, health problems arise.”
“Do you die?”
“Not necessarily. But it’s best to avoid it if possible. And just because you dig up the ground doesn’t mean rock salt comes out right away. Even if you discover a rock salt vein, it often contains impurities that require refining.”
Seoran nodded as if she fully understood.
Soon after, the group arrived at the Great Mountain Sect.
Only Yang Ribak, affiliated with the Great Mountain Sect, and the expedition’s negotiation leads entered the sect’s grand barrier.
The rest waited nearby with the Stone Mountain Greatwing.
Seoran stepped out of the Stone Mountain Greatwing for some fresh air and perched on the upper part of its beak.
The cool breeze blowing felt similar whether in the Western Continent or the Southern Continent.
But on the ground, unfamiliar sights unfolded.
Far off in the distance, the mortals surrounding the Great Mountain Sect’s grand barrier were bowing toward the Stone Mountain Greatwing.
They said cultivators who worked tirelessly to fend off natural disasters were treated like guardian deities, and indeed, no one showed fear at the sight of the 400-meter-tall giant puppet.
It was convenient not to have to bother hiding its presence.
While Seoran blankly gazed down at the city, Yang Ribak and the expedition members returned, apparently having finished negotiations.
“Ryu Susa, things went better than expected. The Great Mountain Sect has agreed to connect us with the Restoration Alliance. Shall we depart right away?”
Seoran nodded at the expedition member’s words.
“Yes, let’s do that.”
Guided by Yang Ribak, the expedition flew toward the Southern Continent’s central region, where the Restoration Alliance headquarters was located.
*****
The Restoration Alliance—an international organization of the Southern Continent’s major sects.
Grand in name, it was essentially a disaster relief group.
Hundreds of years ago, the wrath of nature had intensified dramatically, uniting the entire continent as one.
Restoring disaster areas, preventive construction against calamities, tallying casualties and compiling statistics—these were the tasks handled by the Restoration Alliance.
But if asked which department was the most important, everyone would surely answer the same.
The Celestial Observation Network Research Institute was a symbol of hope, something they would trade the entire Restoration Alliance for.
The Celestial Observation Network Research Institute, gathering the continent’s foremost scholars, buzzed with activity as always.
Their mission was to uncover the root cause of the unnaturally frequent natural disasters.
Depending on the results, it could save the entire continent from peril—a monumental endeavor.
To identify the causes of disasters and seek solutions, the Restoration Alliance poured vast resources into the research institute every year.
The finest human talent, top-priority supplies and budgets, even obsessively secured safety.
Every day the research advanced brought salvation to countless lives, so everyone was desperate.
And now, the scholars’ efforts across generations had finally borne fruit.
The Celestial Observation Network Research Institute had completed the Analysis Engine.
A colossal calculator capable of backtracking the source of anomalies based on centuries of accumulated observation data.
The director said in a voice thick with tension.
“Input the data.”
The researchers hurriedly fed long sheets of observation records into the Analysis Engine’s input slot.
The machine devoured the endless mountain of paper and began humming as it computed.
Moments later, when the results emerged, the institute director rushed to the output slot.
The director said, overcome with emotion.
“Oh... finally...”
The result sheet bore only the words: ‘Output failure due to insufficient data.’
This error occurred when the input data was too scant or not precise enough.
It couldn’t possibly be that the data scraped from across the continent over centuries was insufficient—it meant more precise observation values were needed.
The director felt a dizzying vertigo.
The observation instruments developed in-house by the Celestial Observation Network Research Institute had long reached their technical limits.
Incremental improvements were possible, but no revolutionary short-term upgrades.
No one knew how long it would take to achieve the precision the Analysis Engine demanded.
The director muttered unwittingly.
“No... no...”
It felt as if the ground beneath his feet were crumbling.
For the next three days, the director wandered the Restoration Alliance headquarters like a ghost, without even washing.
He was usually obsessively neat.
Anyone could imagine the depth of the mental shock he had suffered.
Around that time, the Southern Continent expedition arrived at the Restoration Alliance.
*****
Seoran and Damcheong were admiring the garden trees planted at the headquarters entrance.
Then, a ghostly figure of a man slithered out from behind a tree.
The director, who had appeared out of nowhere, naturally vanished into nearby bushes.
Seoran asked the alliance staffer beside her.
“Who’s that guy trampling all over the grass?”
The alliance staffer replied with a wry expression.
“He’s the head of the Celestial Observation Network Research Institute, established to pinpoint the causes of frequent natural disasters. Recently, he tried analyzing anomaly sources with this thing called the Analysis Engine and failed. He took it so hard he ended up like that overnight.”
“Oh no... Anyway, what’s this Analysis Engine?”
“Well, I’m no expert, so... If you’re really curious, shall I introduce you to someone from the Observation Network Research Institute?”
“Yes, please do.”
Through the alliance staffer’s introduction, Seoran met the senior researcher who had led the Analysis Engine’s development.
Even after the director lost his grip, she hadn’t stopped refining it.
She clung to the vague hope that enhanced computing power might allow backtracking sources even from less precise data.
The reason she made time amid her busyness was simple.
She had heard Seoran was a puppet master.
The technology from another continent might just break through their impasse.
Seoran and the senior researcher hit it off.
Their fields were vastly different, so full understanding was impossible, but they managed to communicate adequately.
The two chattered away without touching the tea the attendants had painstakingly prepared.
Only after communicating in what felt like alien tongues for a while did Seoran grasp what the Analysis Engine was.
If anything, it resembled a national weather service supercomputer.
Load it with observation data, and it crunched numbers tirelessly to spit out results.
Seoran asked.
“So, without more precise observation data, you can’t backtrack the anomaly sources?”
“Pretty much. Otherwise, you’d need near-infinite amounts of less precise data or a way to overwhelmingly boost the Analysis Engine’s performance. The latter is what I’m tackling, as it’s at least feasible.”
“And to gather precise data, you need to improve the observation instruments’ performance?”
“Simple tweaks won’t cut it. We’d need at least several times better than now. But the instruments hit their technical ceiling over a century ago, so it’s practically impossible.”
“So ultimately, all you need is precise observation data?”
The senior researcher leaned forward.
“Got any bright ideas, by chance?”
Seoran grinned.
“Of course.”
It went without saying, but those who knew a specialized field best were the experts in it.
See a doctor for treatment, a pharmacist for medicine—it was common sense.
So, for weather-related inquiries, who to ask?
The answer was Damcheong.