Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

"Mr. Vic," Sinclair took a deep breath, "...this is..."

"A special spiritual reactor," Gordon said.

“It looks…” Sinclair said hesitantly, finally finding another word, “Wait, it’s a… artificial uterus.”

The thought of the uterus brought Sinclair a sudden sense of clarity.

"Ah, excellent craftsmen can always quickly understand customer needs and get straight to the heart of the matter." Gordon's eyes lit up.

"Haha, so it's the uterus... I thought it was... wait!" Sinclair suddenly became serious, looking at Gordon with surprise and suspicion. "Why? Can you explain?"

"This is part of the Blackwater River project," Gordon said. "You also graduated from the Royal College of Scientific Research, and you know, sometimes the college lets us do some crazy experiments. And this is an essential piece of equipment for my project."

This is where the Blackwater River project came in a good way.

Even the most outrageous demand can be described as preparation for a report meeting.

"Should we create a themed exhibition called 'Mother of the Blackwater River'?" Sinclair asked helplessly.

"It's mainly to maintain a stable environment for some kind of spiritual reaction in the Blackwater River. As you know, the Blackwater River has been getting increasingly strange lately, so we have to be careful," Gordon said.

That being said...

Sinclair remained professional, scrutinizing Gordon's requirements on the blueprints.

After all, in spiritual workshops, 99% of the clients are unwilling to explain the actual purpose of their services.

all in all……

This "uterus" needs to work continuously for ten days, maintaining a stable internal temperature.

It needs to simulate slight, continuous contraction. The overall material needs to be suitable for receiving acquired spiritual influence.

It must have a separate injection port. It should be able to be opened and closed for easy addition of materials.

In the event of equipment malfunction, there must be a backup plan for emergency pressure release.

"A glass viewing window won't do," Sinclair sketched on the surface. "If there's any complex reaction inside, ordinary glass won't be able to withstand it. You could use mica sheets; they can help you observe the outline. Rubber seals won't work either; rubber will absorb the extraordinary activity, and in ten days, it might grow a pair of legs."

"Yes, let's follow the advice of the professionals." Gordon completely agreed.

"You mentioned it needs to simulate 'contraction'," Sinclair researched. "Does it need to have different levels?"

"Yes, preferably adjustable, from 2 to 10 times per minute." Gordon thought carefully. "Oh, and add a setting of less than once per minute to simulate hibernation."

It seems it really wasn't meant to disturb him. Sinclair secretly breathed a sigh of relief. The frequencies weren't in sync.

Sinclair and Gordon went over the same points several times, and each time their thinking aligned, the safety factor of the entire device increased.

  

Gordon knew the goal and the principle, and knew how the entire Tide Birth Ceremony should be coordinated, but he didn't know exactly what kind of equipment needed to be built.

Sinclair didn't know what Gordon was trying to do, but he was completely familiar with how a machine could balance insulation, sealing, and spiritual response.

He also took another piece of paper and began designing a steam-driven eccentric wheel structure that would allow pressure to be transmitted alternately, something Gordon had never thought of before.

This is precisely the significance of craftsmen: to help every seemingly hopeless dream come true.

"...Alright." Sinclair stood up and stretched his sore wrists.

At this point, the blueprints were a million times more complete than Gordon's initial vision.

"..." Gordon looked at the dense markings and nodded with satisfaction.

If a new source substance is to be given a suitable place to be born, a well-designed womb is obviously much better than a randomly made model, and it is also more in line with modern civilization than a large clam shell with iron chains hanging down.

“I only have one question,” Sinclair said seriously, looking at Gordon. “If it succeeds… I see it has a real ‘birth canal,’ what exactly will be born?”

"A valuable experience for humankind in understanding the world." Gordon smiled.

Sinclair glanced at Gordon for two seconds.

"20 gold pounds. 5 gold pounds is the deposit," Sinclair estimated. "The construction period is about 45 days."

"18 gold pounds." Gordon's bargaining spirit was ignited.

Sinclair paused for a moment.

He was almost blinded by Gordon's insights and that perfect blueprint.

It's only now that I realize I'm dealing with a college student, after all.

"Hmm...19 gold pounds?"

"17 gold pounds plus 10 silver pounds, and a deposit of 6 gold pounds," Gordon said.

"The deposit has increased."

"To show my sincerity."

"But the total price has decreased."

"To show your sincerity."

"...Deal." Sinclair, remembering Gordon's help, extended his hand, and the two shook hands. This was already at cost price.

Sinclair wrote down the receipt, stopping at the name of the commissioned party.

"What should this thing be called?" he said. "We can't just write 'Mr. Vic's uterus,' it's easy to cause misunderstandings."

"Of course... this thing can be called the 'cradle of life'," Gordon said.

"You have to make sure that no living thing is put in, or any living thing comes out, or that it is put into any living thing," Sinclair concluded.

"I promise," Gordon thought for a moment, "that none of these three things will happen."

Gordon handed over the deposit and then looked at the drawings, which were covered with revision marks.

The ancient Logariths used sacred objects and river water to create new life; now Gordon is entrusting the same need to the spiritual industry.

He wasn't sure if the finished product would be better.

But I always feel that if the original design was based on some kind of extraordinary science, then he should now treat it with a rigorous scientific attitude.

Sinclair looked at the blueprints, feeling a mix of emotions.

He was always sealing bullets for hunters and crafting source material jewelry for jewelers. These were highly profitable ventures, serving violence, power, and vanity…

And now, he seems to be genuinely working on some unknown science.

"Although Mr. Vic is unwilling to say it outright, I guess you won't tell me the location of the experiment, nor do you want me to be there, which I understand," Sinclair said.

"Very professional."

"...But if this device works successfully, please be sure to treat me to a meal."

"certainly."

Gordon was satisfied as he and Vera left the spiritual workshop.

The cradle of life prepared for the second source material gradually began to be built, no longer just a concept in one's mind.

"I spent 17 gold pounds on one..." Vera thought for a long time, but still couldn't say the awkward word, "...pressure cooker."

"This is an investment," Gordon said. "I'm going to defend science."

"Hopefully, what it produces will be worth far more than 17 gold pounds and 10 silver pounds."

"Definitely," Gordon said.

A single source material infused with power is worth far more than 17 gold pounds.

Now, he has completed a crucial step towards the second source substance.

……

It was already evening when I returned to No. 9 Knight Road.

The pot has been ordered, but Gordon still needs to repay the woman who inspired him.

"Dear Ms. Grant," Gordon wrote back to Eve across the sea, "Thank you for your letter... Your judgment is very valuable, especially regarding the spiral lines around the embryo pattern. We will continue our investigation... Well, Vera, you can write the rest."

Gordon put down his pen.

"Ah, finally." Vera was long tired of the red tape of academic correspondence. "I say, you write."

"it is good."

“‘You’re a very intelligent person,’ Vera said. ‘You helped me build a pressure cooker, which will come in very handy. We’ll continue our investigation of the Blackwater River and write to you again if we find anything new. Best regards, Gordon Vic.’”

Gordon polished it to make sure it wasn't too impolite, and finally, reading it from beginning to end, it looked concise and appropriate enough.

Most importantly, they really look like harmless college students.

"Very good, very good." Gordon said with satisfaction. "If academic communications are always like this, we will conquer the secrets of the source matter decades earlier."

"certainly."

Gordon put the letter in a white envelope and had Vera mail it.

He glanced at the dark sky outside, decided to go to sleep, and felt incredibly relaxed and at ease.

It feels like the "If only I could go back to before the Easter holiday" service I purchased is now active.

The Relief Day holiday has begun!

……

……

Gordon slept for a long time.

This was a deep sleep without a doubt.

His overworked body finally got a complete reboot.

When he woke up, it was completely dark.

But he clearly remembered that when he fell asleep, it was pitch black outside the window.

Therefore, the whole world feels unfamiliar.

Regardless, he felt as if his brain had been cleaned of dust, and its overall function was much stronger.

Blackwater River, Tide's Birth Ceremony, Olivia, Cradle of Life, Student Loans... they are still there, but they are all arranged neatly on a network, each finding its place.

So this is what it means to sleep...

And it's during the relaxing Rescue Day holiday, it feels so unreal.

In any case, we still need to find something that can serve as a realistic anchor.

Gordon entered the living room and heard the sound of a sword ripping through the air.

The living room tables and chairs were moved to the wall, and Vera stood in the center of the room.

She held a black spike, and her entire body was covered only in socks and bandages, revealing a fit and well-proportioned figure.

Vera stepped forward and thrust her sword straight out, taking the shortest path.

If there is an enemy in front of you, this sword will pierce your heart.

Then she sheathed her sword and retreated, thrusting it out with her other hand, aiming straight for the enemy's head.

Every movement was precise and perfect, as if it had been planned in advance.

Gordon noticed that Vera's left shoulder was relaxed and the wound from the battle at the pump station had completely disappeared.

Regenerative agents, sutures, and Gordon's health management finally removed the wound.

If Vera were here by herself, she'd probably still be under some bridge, grimacing over the slightest thing.

"You slept for twenty-six hours." Vera said without turning her head.

"I haven't woken up?"

"You woke up. You woke up and asked where you were, and I said number nine, Knight Road. Then you turned over and went back to sleep."

"I have absolutely no memory of that," Gordon remarked.

I slept so soundly, it felt like I was submerged in the deep sea, occasionally surfacing for a breath before falling back asleep.

Vera prepared a pot of carrot and beef for Gordon, whose stomach was already empty.

There was also an invitation on the table.

"What's this?" Gordon picked it up to look at it.

"Charlotte's," Vera said. "Tomorrow morning at St. Duncan Square for the Good Friday charity sale."

"Sounds like a respectable event." Gordon understood. "She's been here?"

"She came and asked if you were dead. I said no. She said, 'Don't die.'"

"I feel like she must have said a lot."

"Ah, but that's all I remember," Vera said innocently.