Minho was bubbling with excitement, humming a cheerful tune as she rocked from side to side, her legs swinging playfully while everyone enjoyed the sweet, sugared fish she had prepared. Her eyes sparkled with pride as she watched them eat, clearly pleased with the reception. Shun, still a bit amazed by the flavor, couldn’t help but smile as he took another bite.

“I still can’t believe you managed to make sugar from potatoes!” Shun said, shaking his head in disbelief. It was a statement of genuine admiration, and his tone carried a hint of awe. At first, when Minho had announced her discovery, he was skeptical, but the taste of the sweet, caramelized glaze on the fish was proof enough. There was no denying it—she had done something remarkable.

Minho giggled, a bit of smugness slipping into her grin. “It’s true! I figured it out all by myself. Pretty clever, right?” she said, clearly enjoying the moment.

Tao, who was also munching on the fish, leaned forward, her eyes wide with curiosity. “You have to show us how you made it, Minho,” she said eagerly. As the group’s unofficial cook, Tao was always experimenting with new flavors, and the idea of making sugar from something as common as potatoes was simply fascinating to her. “This could change everything! If we know how to make it, we can have sweets all the time!”

Gu, ever the practical thinker, joined in, his mind already racing ahead to the possibilities. “If we could find a way to connect with a merchant or someone who sells to nobles, we could make a lot of money by selling this sugar,” he said thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Something like this could be very valuable. Nobles love their sweets, and if we can provide a new kind of sugar, we’d be in business.”

Shun nodded, considering the idea, but he also knew the realities of their isolated location. “True, but merchants don’t want to travel to the Jing Mountains, especially now because of winter and the Greenwood Bandits. It’s going to be hard to find anyone willing to make the trip just to buy sugar,” he said, chewing thoughtfully.

“We’ll find a way,” Tao said confidently, her enthusiasm undimmed. “But first, Minho, you have to show us how you did it! I want to learn, and I’m sure everyone else does too.”

Minho’s cheeks flushed with pride, and she nodded eagerly. “Alright, I’ll show you! It’s not that complicated, but it does take some patience.” She stood up, gesturing for everyone to follow her as she led them back to the small hut where she had set up her makeshift processing area.

The hut was simple but well-organized, with various pots, bamboo tubes, and a small stove that Minho had crafted herself. She had laid out everything she needed on a low wooden table, along with a few remaining potatoes, a pot of water, and a clay jar filled with a viscous, amber-colored syrup.

“First, I start with the potatoes,” Minho began, picking up one of the tubers. “I know it sounds strange, but potatoes have starch, and if you break down the starch, you can get sugar from it. I read about it in one of the old books we found, and I thought, why not give it a try?” She lied about the source of the information to hide the [Smartphone].

Tao and the others watched closely as Minho peeled the potato and sliced it into thin strips. “You have to slice them very thinly,” she explained, “so they can release their starch more easily. Once they’re cut, I soak them in water for a few hours. That helps the starch break down faster.” She repeated everything the Lady in the [Video] said.

She gestured to a large clay pot filled with murky water. “After soaking, I drain the water, but I don’t throw it away. That’s where the magic happens,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “The water now has all the starch from the potatoes. Then, I heat it up slowly, stirring all the time. You have to be patient because if you rush, it’ll get too thick and sticky.”

Minho took a ladle and stirred a pot that was already warming on the stove. The water inside was thickening, turning into a creamy, cloudy liquid. “As it heats, the starch begins to break down, and if you keep it at the right temperature, it starts to turn into sugar. It doesn’t taste exactly like the sugar from the market, but it’s sweet, and that’s what matters.”

She picked up a small bamboo tube and poured some of the thickened liquid into it, showing how she filtered out any remaining solids. “Once it’s smooth, I add a little bit of heat to make it thicker and let it cook until it turns golden and syrupy, like this,” she said, pointing to the jar of amber syrup on the table. “After that, I let it cool down, and if you’re lucky, it crystallizes into small sugar lumps. It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty close!”

Everyone crowded around to get a better look, marveling at the simple yet ingenious process. Tao, in particular, was practically glowing with excitement. “This is amazing, Minho!” she said, her mind already spinning with ideas. “I bet we could add it to all sorts of dishes. Imagine sweet dumplings, sugared fruits!”

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Gu, ever the strategist, nodded thoughtfully. “And if we can refine the process, make the sugar even smoother and purer, we might really have something. We could trade this, even if it’s just with local merchants at first. It could be a new way to support ourselves.”

Shun couldn’t hide his admiration as he looked at Minho. “You’ve done something incredible, Xiao Minho,” he said, ruffling her hair gently. “Who knew we had a little alchemist in our midst?”

Minho beamed, her earlier smugness replaced by genuine happiness.

In a few hours the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the governor’s mansion, the sky began to darken, and the first stars twinkled into view. Inside the governor’s office, Master Lin entered with a brisk, confident stride, his expression resolute.

Seated behind an ornate desk was Governor Ming, a calm, almost amused smile on his face. Beside him, perched on the armrest of his chair, sat Huangshu, Master Lin’s daughter. She watched her father enter, her eyes bright with interest. Despite the formal setting, there was a sense of familiarity and warmth in the room.

Master Lin’s voice broke the silence. “What’s this about, Governor Ming? I was about to gather the boys for their training.”

Ming’s smile deepened. “I know, Master Lin, but I wanted to discuss your plan. Training those boys, setting up a proper training ground, organizing a martial tournament, and then applying to the Martial Alliance to form a sect... it’s quite a challenge, wouldn’t you agree? All just to confront the Greenwood Brotherhood.”

Master Lin nodded, his expression serious. “It is a challenge, yes. But it’s the only legal route we have. The Greenwood Brotherhood is operating as a ‘security company’ and has taken control over the region. We can’t attack them head-on without risking being labeled as a rebellion.”

Ming leaned back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I understand your strategy, but I have a different idea now. One that could achieve the same goal with less risk and effort. What if, instead of forming a new sect, we support an existing brotherhood that can oppose the Greenwood Brotherhood? They can weaken their grip on the Jing Mountains for us.”

Master Lin raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. “Governor Ming, the Greenwood Bandits have been ruthless. They’ve either forced smaller brotherhoods to join them or wiped them out entirely. Even if some survived, they’d be in hiding, and it would be difficult to make contact.”

Before Ming could respond, the office door creaked open, and Blacksmith Liang stepped in. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hands were still dusted with soot from the forge. Master Lin’s eyes flicked to him, puzzled. “Liang, we’re in the middle of something important. You can come back later and complain about the iron shortage all you want.”

Liang smirked but bowed slightly. “I’m not here to talk about iron, you old geezer. I’m here because the young governor asked me to be.” He turned to Ming, giving him a respectful nod. “Apologies for being late, Governor. I was working on a merchant’s carriage, and he insisted on having it ready today.”

Ming waved his hand, dismissing the concern. “No problem, Uncle Liang. I appreciate you making the time.”

Master Lin’s confusion deepened. “Why involve the blacksmith in our strategy discussion?” he asked, glancing at his future son-in-law.

It was Huangshu who spoke up, her voice gentle but firm. “Father, please, let Uncle Liang explain. It’s important.”

Liang cleared his throat, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. “Last night, a young lad showed up at my shop. He was trying to sell some metal scraps, saying his brotherhood needed money to make it through the winter. He claimed they were based near the river.”

Master Lin’s eyes narrowed. “The riverside was one of the first areas attacked by the Greenwood Bandits. They’ve had control there for weeks.”

“I thought the same,” Liang replied, nodding. “I was suspicious of his story, but the lad insisted. He said they managed to survive by hiding deep in the forests and have a secret route that allows them to come and go without being caught by the Greenwood Bandits. I didn’t trust him at first, so I had him stay in the mansion last night, just to make sure he wasn’t up to something.”

Huangshu leaned forward, her eyes shining with excitement. “Father, he’s telling the truth. This young man seems to genuinely belong to a brotherhood that managed to stay hidden from the bandits.”

Liang continued, “He was just a kid trying to scrape together some coins to buy supplies for his group. From what he said, they’re struggling but determined to survive. They’ve got a safe spot, and they’re smart enough to avoid detection.”

Governor Ming’s expression softened as he looked at Master Lin. “So, Master Lin, what do you think? Instead of going through the lengthy process of forming a new sect, why not support this hidden brotherhood? We can arm them, provide financial aid, and they can strike at the Greenwood Brotherhood’s control for us.”

Master Lin’s mind raced. His original plan had been to build a martial sect to exploit the loopholes in the Martial Alliance’s rules, but it was a long, arduous process. “So, we’ve got a hidden brotherhood, a secret route we can use, and a direct line of contact. It sounds almost too good to be true,” he said, chuckling.

“Exactly,” Huangshu said, her tone enthusiastic. “We can train the young boys here and have them join that brotherhood. We’ll supply them with weapons and funds, and they’ll have a much better chance of challenging the Greenwood Bandits’ stronghold.”

Ming leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Master Lin’s. “It’s a cleaner, more efficient approach. We support them discreetly, and they dismantle the Greenwood Brotherhood’s power. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Master Lin hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “I think it’s a far better plan. Let’s proceed with it.”

Meanwhile, outside the town, a lone carriage sped down the rugged road, the wheels kicking up dirt as the horses galloped. Inside, a man sat with a stern, focused expression. He wore luxurious and sturdy clothes that belied his true identity—he was not just a merchant but a member of the Shadow Guard, the elite spies from the Central Plains Empire’s Imperial Intelligence Network. His mission was urgent, and failure was not an option.

The day before, he had received a message delivered by a courier bird, the seal of Prime Minister Lady Lianhua unmistakable on the envelope. The orders were clear: deliver this message to the Royal Council of the Frost Kingdom within a month. No delays, no excuses.

The journey had been anything but smooth. The Greenwood Bandits’ chokehold on the region had made supplies scarce, and he had struggled to find a blacksmith willing to upgrade his carriage. Yet, luck had been on his side. Earlier that morning, he had encountered a young lad at the forge, selling metal scraps. Sensing an opportunity, he hadn’t wasted time bargaining; he handed over a gold coin, secured the upgrade, and set off without delay.

Now, as snowflakes began to drift down, the first signs of winter creeping in, he urged the horses faster. The mountain pass would soon be covered in snow, making the journey treacherous. But his mission was too important to be delayed by weather or terrain. The message he carried had the potential to shift the balance of power, and he couldn’t afford to lose a moment.