Farming in a Parallel World and Becoming a God-Chapter 68 - 65 Bitterleaf Oil Please Follow_1

68: Chapter 65: Bitterleaf Oil (Please Follow)_1

68: Chapter 65: Bitterleaf Oil (Please Follow)_1

“Tell me more about this Tremor Bomb, how did it come into existence?

What’s its power like?” As soon as he heard about the bomb, Gaven perked up.

“Well…” Zack blinked and spread his hands, “I’ve only heard the elders in our tribe mention that those large Gnoll Tribes use Quake Bombs made by Alchemists to assist with mining.

They can cause large-scale destruction to rock formations, but I’m not clear on the specific power; I’ve never seen it myself.”

“Do you know which tribe has an Alchemist capable of making Tremor Bombs?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t heard of any nearby tribes that have such an Alchemist,” Zack shook his head.

“I know…

I know…” Gos jumped up excitedly, “I’ve heard from the previous Leader that our Maternal Tribe has such an Alchemist.”

“Your Maternal Tribe?” This time it was Gaven who was a bit puzzled; this was a rather new term to him.

Seeing this, Zack explained, “Us Gnolls breed rather quickly, and there are limits to how fast our burrows can expand and the surrounding food supply.

Once it’s severely overloaded, we split the tribe.

Some stay while others migrate to other suitable living spaces to dig new dwellings.

Generally, those that split off refer to the original tribe that stayed as their Maternal Tribe.”

There was something else Zack didn’t say—the Gnoll Tribes like the Blackwell Tribe that regressed in development weren’t unheard of, but they were few and far between.

Most were those with Giant Dragon masters or that occupied mines rich in resources.

“Understood,” Gaven nodded his head, “Supervisor Gos, what’s the name of your Maternal Tribe?

Where is it located?

How far is it from our Blackwell Tribe?

What’s the approximate population?

What’s their current situation?”

As he spoke, he pulled out paper and pen, ready to record the important information, as it would all be crucial points for the future development of the Blackwell Tribe.

“That…” This time it was Gos who looked embarrassed, “When we split from the Maternal Tribe, I was still just an egg.

Everything I know about them, I’ve heard from the elders who split off.

I only know that the Maternal Tribe is called Eagle Cliff Burrow, located to the northwest of Blackwell.

We’ve had no contact for a long time, so I’m not very clear on the exact distance and situation.

However, since we haven’t been split off for long, there are still quite a few elders alive.

I’ll go and ask them for details immediately.”

Gos stood up, intending to go outside.

“Stop, sit down,” Gaven ordered, and emphatically tapped on the table, “Remember, there are protocols for meetings.

During a meeting, no one moves without permission.

Anything that’s not resolved in this meeting, write it down and solve it afterward.

Vick, if you steal food again, believe me, I’ll starve you for three days.”

The Blackwell Tribe seemed to be thriving and developing rapidly, but the management layer was obviously fragmented, relying on the back and forth of just a few people.

Of the eight present, at least two were practically placeholders—one of them was the one just mentioned, and the other was nearly snoring.

The Goblin Sorcerer immediately sat up straight, his cheeks puffed out, too afraid to chew.

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Gos reassured with a smile, sitting back down.

His skin had grown thick from practice; he didn’t take it to heart.

“This matter will be your top priority after the meeting.

Not only will you gather information on the questions I’ve asked but also find out more about the living conditions of your Maternal Tribe, the possibility of trade and the more detail, the better.

Once you find out, report back to me immediately.”

“As you command.”

“It’s not just you, Gos, but the rest of you as well.

After returning, learn more from our fellow tribespeople to see if we can uncover more news about the Quake Bombs.

Understood?”

“Understood.”

“We’ll end the discussion on this topic for now and move on to the next.

Supervisor Zack, do you have any other good suggestions?

Let’s hear them all,” Gaven was ready to press on and squeeze out all the information.

After the recent discussion, Zack also got into the groove and tentatively asked, “I do have one more issue, though I’m not sure if it’s what you, Leader, want to inquire about.”

“Whether it is or isn’t, let’s hear it,” Gaven didn’t fear their problems, he feared if they had none.

“Bitterleaf Oil, there’s a huge shortage of it right now, especially for the miners on the front-line.

They simply don’t have the time to go out and gather Herbs, nor the time to produce the Bitterleaf Oil themselves.”

Sensing Gaven’s confusion, Zack explained, “Bitterleaf Oil is a kind of ointment made by mixing animal fats.

Applying it regularly can keep our scales healthy and shiny, slows down our shedding, heals skin abrasions, and it’s common for miners to be hit by flying rocks.

Bitterleaf Oil eases their pain from such injuries and accelerates the regeneration and healing of scales, hence the high demand.”

“Wasn’t specialized division of labor already in place?

Surface gathering should be your responsibility, Gos.

This matter of Bitterleaf Oil is so crucial; if I was unaware, how could you not know?

Why haven’t you supplied it in time?” Gaven’s cold gaze settled on Gos.

This was no longer just a matter of supply and demand but an issue of cooperation between the surface and the underground.

Gos made a pained expression and protested, “Sir, of course I know the importance of Bitterleaf Oil.

I’ve assigned three teams specifically for gathering the relevant Herbs, but with our population being so large, we simply can’t keep up with the demand.

Right now, all of the Bitterleaf Oil we produce is sent to the mines.

The Gnolls above ground have gone a long time without it.”

“Why not assign more manpower to gather the relevant Herbs?”

“Assigning more manpower won’t help much.

The issue is the bitterleaf herb itself; we’ve almost exhausted the supplies on the nearby mountains.

Going further is too dangerous, and I can’t risk sending my people out,” Gos explained.

“Then it’s not entirely your fault, but your biggest mistake was not informing me about this in a timely manner,” Gaven’s expression softened considerably, “Write down the materials used for mixing Bitterleaf Oil, especially the ones we lack.

I’ll take care of the rest.”

Gos hurriedly replied, “No need to write, we aren’t short on animal fats or other components—it’s just the bitterleaf.

As long as we have enough bitterleaf, we can produce as much Bitterleaf Oil as needed.”

The main reason was that he couldn’t write, and he couldn’t wait until after the meeting to do it.

“Is bitterleaf scarce or not?”

“It’s not scarce; normally it’s everywhere.

We can usually be self-sufficient, but now our population growth is too rapid and we’ve used up the nearby stocks.”

“Then it’s an easy fix.

Next time the Human Merchant Caravan comes around, I’ll have my merchant friends specifically buy up a few carts of bitterleaf.

If you have other special goods you need to purchase, let me know too, and I’ll give them a list,” Gaven knocked on the table, “This is just a temporary solution.

The root of the problem is that we need to grow bitterleaf on a large scale ourselves.

After all, we are just starting our development; our population will only increase, and the shortage of bitterleaf will grow.”