Chapter 104: Life's Faint Ripple and the Root Furnace

The stillness of the elven stone chamber was broken by Copper Whiskers's rough, heavy panting and Wrench's occasional unconscious moans. Copper Whiskers leaned against the cold stone wall, the vertigo from the sharp pain and blood loss clinging to him like a bone-deep parasite, but he did not dare fall completely asleep. His one eye warily swept across this miraculous shelter.

The central Life Altar was the core. That suspended emerald-green orb of light radiated a warm and powerful aura of life, its glow enveloping Xiang Lingna and Lin Mo, who lay on the moss beside it. Xiang Lingna's pale little face seemed to relax somewhat beneath the light; though she remained unconscious, her faint breathing appeared a touch steadier. Lin Mo's charred body, under the dual effect of the altar's radiance and the stardust crystal, saw the pulsing frequency of the Corrupted Claw Mark on his right arm drop to its lowest, the dark-purple ghostly glow nearly suppressed out of sight, leaving only the mark itself branded there like an ugly tattoo.

"It works…" Copper Whiskers felt a measure of relief within. This altar's power, at least, could sustain their vitality.

But mere sustenance was not enough. Xiang Lingna needed treatment, Lin Mo needed to recover, Wrench needed his bones set, and he himself needed to deal with his fatal wounds. And the most immediate problem of all—hunger and water.

His gaze fell on the glowing crystals on the stone chamber's walls and the luminous moss growing on the floor. He struggled over, observing carefully. The moss was a soft pale green, with thick, fleshy leaves, giving off a faint fluorescence and a fresh scent. He carefully tore off a small piece and put it in his mouth.

Slightly astringent, but it quickly transformed into a strange, clear sweetness, carrying a rich taste of plant essence. A faint warm current slid down his throat, instantly soothing the burning in his stomach and a touch of the weakness from blood loss.

"Edible!" Copper Whiskers's spirits lifted. He looked again at the glowing crystals on the wall, leaned in to observe, and discovered that the crystals were not embedded directly in the wall, but rather grew upon a finer, root-like luminous plant in the wall's crevices. Beneath the crystals, tiny droplets of water occasionally seeped out, gathering in shallow grooves at the base of the stone wall.

He licked his cracked lips, dipped a finger in the clear liquid in the groove, and tasted it. Cool, sweet, imbued with a faint energy—far better than the bitter, turbid radiated water of the wasteland!

Food and water, provisionally solved! Though the quantities were small, at least there was hope. These luminous mosses (he provisionally named them "Light Moss") and the crystal-root plants were clearly precious legacies left by the elves.

His gaze turned once more to the Life Altar. The altar itself was constructed of pure crystal and lustrous white jade, its structure intricate, its surface likewise inscribed with fine elven runes, sharing the same lineage as the patterns of the entrance emblem. On one side of the altar's base, he discovered several dim grooves, oddly shaped, as if something had once been set into them.

"Energy nodes?" The instinct of the dwarven craftsman was awakened. Though this altar's radiance was powerful, it did not seem to have reached its peak state? If he could find a suitable energy source…

Just then, a faint but distinct tremor came through the soles of his feet. Very regular, carrying a steady pulse.

"Geothermal!" Copper Whiskers's one eye blazed. Dwarves' sensitivity to the pulse of the earth was innate! Beneath this stone chamber, there must be active geothermal resources! A wild concept instantly took shape in his mind—using geothermal energy to drive the repair of the altar, and even… forge an energy core!

He struggled to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain of his wounds tearing open, and his massive right hand carefully tapped and felt across the smooth floor of the stone chamber. Thud… thud… the area where the tremor was strongest was in one corner of the chamber.

This was it!

He needed tools! He shot a look at Wrench, unconscious in the corner, and at his own scrapped mechanical prosthetic hand. A thought surfaced.

"Goblin boy… wake up! Time to work!" He walked to Wrench's side and patted Wrench's charred cheek with his still-intact right hand.

Wrench showed no response.

Copper Whiskers frowned, his gaze falling on the tool belt at Wrench's waist—equally charred and tattered, but whose main structure seemed still intact. He unfastened the belt and rummaged through it. A few twisted wrenches, several metal probes half-melted by burning, a small roll of special metal wire with excellent insulation (miraculously unburned), and a few micro energy blocks flickering with unstable light (likely wreckage from the probe case).

Crude, but enough!

He looked again at his own mechanical prosthetic—heavy, its armor plates twisted and warped, internal wiring exposed and trailing black smoke. A flash of resolve and reluctance passed through the dwarf's eyes, quickly replaced by steadfastness. This was the old partner's final contribution.

He crouched down and, using the pliers from Wrench's tool belt, began to violently dismantle his own scrapped mechanical prosthetic. The sounds of metal tearing and parts flying echoed through the stone chamber. He carefully removed the micro energy-conversion core, whose internal structure was relatively intact, several Thornsteel energy conduits with excellent conductivity, and a few of the outermost special-alloy armor plates, relatively intact, bearing natural anti-corrosion and energy-guidance patterns.

His movements were rough yet precise, carrying a desperate, all-in ferocity. The dismantled parts piled up in a small heap beside him.

"Root Furnace…" he muttered the name of his concept, a fanatic gleam peculiar to dwarven craftsmen flickering in his one eye. He would use geothermal heat as fire, the elven sanctuary as furnace, and with these remnants, forge the first cornerstone of their survival!

He picked up one of the removed special-alloy plates and, with a twisted wrench, slammed it hard against the corner where the floor's tremor was strongest! Sparks flew!

In the slumbering elven sanctuary, the sound of a dwarven hammer striking rang out for the first time.