Two hundred iron vats simmered in the lower galleries of Red Mist Valley. The limestone vents carried the smell of barley, beef fat and ginseng up into the canyon. Three hundred alchemists and apothecaries worked in shifts, stirring the mash with long oak paddles.
Chen Wen, the apothecary who ran the alliance kitchens, was waiting at the mixing table. Pei Jing had met him during the first year of training, after Chen told the Pill Cauldron Sect that its Nine-Turn Jade Pills were poisoning the people who took them. The sect had broken his spirit channels and thrown him out. Pei Jing had helped him recover enough to work again. Now Chen ran the largest ration kitchen in the valley.
“The sects’ fasting pills make people feel full by putting chalk and other fillers in their stomachs,” Chen said. “Then those same people have to buy medicine when they can’t eat. An army can’t march that way.”
“Then let’s make sure ours never has to buy from them,” Pei Jing said.
The Iron March Cake was a two-inch square in waxed mulberry paper. Beef and dragon tendon gave it substance. Barley, millet and rendered fat gave it most of its ordinary fuel. Kelp and ginseng helped a person recover on the march. The hard part was keeping the qi held in the dragon marrow. With the right seal, one four-ounce cake could sustain hard work in a body trained to draw out the marrow qi.
