Lord blessed by the elves

Chapter 23 Purple Root Potato

Kruse walked up to old Camis, whose face was covered in blood, and suddenly reached out and grabbed his chin.

The seemingly gentle movement instantly froze the old serf—his cloudy pupils reflected Kruse's ambiguous smile.

“Listen, you old man.” Kruse’s voice suddenly softened, yet it was even more chilling than his previous harsh shout. “That…unpalatable tuber, are you still hiding it?” He tightened his grip slightly. “Have you ever tried growing one yourself?”

Old Camis's withered Adam's apple bobbed laboriously, as if a branding iron was stuck there.

His cloudy eyes darted around uneasily, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping: "Replying to Young Master, this old servant does indeed still have some of those tubers hidden in my house." His hunched body unconsciously curled up, as if to lessen his presence, "and I've also tried planting some behind the house, but... I really can't figure out its temperament."

A slow smile crept across Kruse's lips.

This smile, which should have been comforting, sent chills down old Camis's spine.

“Very good.” Kruze clapped his hands lightly, his voice carrying a venomous, lecherous pleasure. “Now go and fetch those treasures. If it’s really as I think…”

He deliberately dragged out his words, and seeing the old serf's bewildered expression, he changed to a more direct way of saying, "If you satisfy me, perhaps I can spare your whole family from the whipping."

Old Kamis's blank expression looked as if he had been struck by lightning.

Wilstone had already grabbed him by the back of his collar and was dragging him out. The old serf's bark-like feet drew comical arcs in the air, but he was still desperately turning his head to see the lord's expression—he couldn't believe his ears.

"Wait a minute."

Butler Buffet suddenly stepped forward, his lean body blocking the doorway like a wall. He bowed respectfully, his voice carrying an undeniable authority: "Young Master, leave such menial tasks to this old servant. Interrogation, search, and examination are more my forte."

“Buffel.” Kruse raised his hand to interrupt, his voice suddenly softening as if he were coaxing a child, “You’ve just come back from a long journey, and you haven’t even had a sip of hot water.” He personally poured a cup of water and pushed it towards him, the warm steam rising between them, “At your age, you should know how to take care of yourself. Tomorrow,” he tapped the rim of the cup lightly with his fingertips, “you’ll have plenty of time to shine.”

Buffet's thin fingers trembled slightly. These simple words were like a spoonful of honey poured onto the most sensitive string in his heart—both an expression of sympathy for his hard work and an affirmation of his authority.

The old steward's tense shoulders visibly relaxed, and the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothed out: "Young Master is so considerate, this old servant is ashamed."

Wilstone took the opportunity to slip out the door with old Camis.

From the corridor came the old serf's voice, as if waking from a dream: "Thank you, young master, for your mercy! Thank you, young master—"

Wilstone quickly returned with old Camis, carrying a strangely shaped, enormous, purplish-red root.

Kruse's pupils contracted sharply at first glance—the familiar tuber shape, the unique fibrous texture.
"Give it to me!" He practically snatched the root, the sensation under his fingertips making his heart race. After examining it thoroughly, he casually cut off a piece and tossed it to old Camis: "How are you going to eat this?"

Old Camis hurriedly caught it, stammering, "Young Master, these purple sweet potatoes are highly poisonous! They must... must be left to sit for at least a week until the poison dissipates before we can cook them. We were starving last year..."

"Poisonous?" A glint flashed in Kruze's eyes, and his suspicions became even more certain.

He had never seen such a strange purplish-red color before.

[Ding! Unknown crop detected. Do you want to start encyclopedia identification?] Kruse chose "Yes" without hesitation.

The system interface unfolded before his eyes, and pale blue text appeared like flowing water:
"Identification complete: Purple cassava (a variant of the cassava genus)"
Characteristics: The rhizome is rich in starch, but the leaves and flower buds contain potent toxins.
Special use: Trace amounts of venom combined with starch can be made into a fast-acting hemostatic powder (a common ingredient used by mages).

Warning: Consuming raw or unprocessed food carries a fatal risk.

“I see.” Kruse’s lips twitched slightly.

This is basically an otherworldly version of cassava!
Apart from the color and stronger toxicity, they are practically identical.

This discovery allowed him to instantly determine the climate zone of the territory—tropical or subtropical.

His heart began to pound.

Cassava! One of the world's three major tuber crops in its previous life! One of the six staple crops! Yet, in the hands of a sorcerer, it was merely used as a raw material for medicine—what a waste!
“Old Camis,” he said, his voice trembling slightly despite his barely suppressed excitement, “you’re saying there are still many of these purple-rooted sweet potatoes in the wild?”

Upon receiving an affirmative answer, Kruse almost burst into laughter.

As long as the correct detoxification methods are mastered, these "poisonous substances" covering the mountains and fields can be the golden key to solving the food crisis!
Not only can it feed the inhabitants, it can also allow the Pea Sprites to relocate ahead of time.

Kruse whirled around, his gaze flashing like lightning as he looked at the dumbfounded butler, Buffet, his voice resolute and brooking no argument:
"Immediately! Organize all available manpower to harvest purple sweet potatoes!" His eyes flashed with a sharp light, and he lowered his voice, which carried a cold decisiveness. "Block the news! Not a single word is to be leaked about the fact that purple sweet potatoes can be used as food! Anyone who dares to utter a word will be treated as a traitor!"

That last sentence, like a poisoned ice pick, made old Camis, who was standing to the side, feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave, and his whole body trembled like a leaf.

He thought the lord was going to silence him!
A sense of despair instantly enveloped his withered face.

Wilstone, however, understood perfectly. He saw the deeper intention in Kruse's eyes—the old Camis family was likely to benefit from the misfortune and become "professionals" in the cultivation and processing of purple sweet potatoes.

"Tsk, that old guy got lucky." Wilstone muttered under his breath, but then his brows furrowed.

Manpower! More manpower!
Most of his soldiers and their families were busy composting fertilizer, and now he has to send troops to dig up purple sweet potatoes all over the mountains.

This is simply robbing Peter to pay Paul!

He felt his head hurt even more.

Buffett keenly sensed Wilston's momentary distress, and his own anxiety about being stripped of power immediately found an outlet. He stepped forward, bowing even deeper, his voice carrying just the right amount of urgency and loyalty: "Young Master! This old servant is at your service at any time! What important task do you have to entrust to this old servant tomorrow? This subordinate will do his utmost!"

Kruse's face broke into the most relaxed smile he had seen all day.

He magically produced a heavy, unassuming coarse cloth bag from his pocket, which made a soft rustling sound when placed on the table.

(End of this chapter)