Everyone here knew exactly what "high-grade" meant. Those were the rarest, most valuable herbs that could only appear in the apocalypse, where quality resources were as precious as life itself. Sure, some regions might be blessed with unique growing conditions that occasionally produced top-notch herbs, but the number was always painfully small.
High-grade herbs were extremely rare, and their value depended not just on scarcity but also on their potency and how they fared under apocalyptic conditions.
Just like how pandas were one-of-a-kind in China, rare and precious enough to be called national treasures.
So now, when this judge suddenly declared all the herbs to be high-grade, everyone was stunned. What the hell did that mean? Was he trying to play favorites? Even bias had its limits, right?
"What kind of herbs are we talking about?" someone asked.
"Bodhi," another replied. "You know how rare Bodhi's become these days."
"Even if it's Bodhi, how can all of them be high-grade?"
A crowd of pharmacists from other associations gathered around, their faces full of disbelief. Some clearly came just to see what kind of so-called "high-grade" herbs could make the judges so generous.
Minister Zhao didn't stop them. He even sighed and brought out the Bodhi samples. "Take a look. Even before the apocalypse, this would've counted as high-grade. Smell it, look at it. You all know herbs, you can tell the difference."
The herbs were passed around, and gasps rippled through the crowd. Growing food in the apocalypse was already a struggle, let alone cultivating herbs that demanded even harsher conditions and longer growth times. Normally, just keeping them alive for a few years was an achievement.
But Bodhi trees weren't really considered medicinal before the apocalypse, more like decorative plants. Under normal conditions, it only took four months for them to reach medicinal maturity. Yet the ones grown these days had lost much of their vitality, with medicinal potency dropping sharply, barely scraping the threshold for use.
That was why seeing these vibrant, energy-filled Bodhi herbs left the pharmacists genuinely shocked. They'd thought Wu City just had a big batch of Bodhi, nothing special. But these were on another level entirely—the quality was too good.
The onlookers fell silent. Minister Zhao only smiled faintly, saying nothing. There was something even more shocking he hadn't revealed yet. None of them knew that these high-grade Bodhi herbs could perfectly suppress parasitic infections. That was enough to completely crush the countless trials and failures the others had gone through this past month trying to find a cure or substitute.
Inwardly, Minister Zhao was practically shouting, "If it weren't for the damn rules, I'd just announce right now that this batch of Bodhi's the champion!" He didn't even want to waste another minute. The sooner this wrapped up, the more lives they could save.
Of course, having the raw Bodhi was only step one. Even if it perfectly suppressed parasites, the following extraction and refinement processes were long and complicated. With the current post-apocalyptic equipment, actual production would be a nightmare.
Jing Shu's method—crushing the Bodhi straight into liquid—was simply reckless, a total waste. Even with a large batch like this, every leaf needed to be refined and extracted multiple times to squeeze out all its medicinal essence.
What Jing Shu didn't know was that Minister Zhao wasn't the only one anxious. Chief Judge Zhang, standing nearby, had been dying to speak up several times but held back, forcing a smile as he nodded along with everything Minister Zhao said. Inwardly, though, he was screaming, "Hurry the hell up already!"
Wu City hadn't just brought Bodhi, of course. Dozens of pharmacists had submitted other herbs for evaluation too. Minister Zhao rattled off grades quickly for the recorders—"Mid-grade," "Medicinal," "Qualified"—speeding through them at a suspicious pace.
Anyone could see he wasn't taking it seriously. But Jing Shu noticed something else: Minister Zhao was actually bumping up the grades for some herbs. Was this his way of currying favor?
Plenty of others noticed, but what could they do? It didn't change the results. The giant screen already showed that Wu City's high-grade herbs filled more than half the list. They didn't even need to check the rest—Wu City's score was dozens of times higher than second place.
So yeah, what was even the point of playing anymore?
Usually, the second round was the most exciting, the fiercest part of the competition. Every time the rankings changed, the crowd would erupt in cheers. You'd see rare herbs like ginseng or Lingzhi pop up, always high-grade, always drawing attention.
But this time? No one even bothered reporting each find. How could they, when Minister Zhao had just declared an entire batch as high-grade in one go? Wu City had basically locked in first place on the spot.
Everyone else was fuming. "Was our preparation that bad? Did we just bring the wrong herbs?"
This round felt pointless, suffocatingly so. That was the general mood among the other associations.
Seeing that Minister Zhao was nearly done, the other judges hurried to finish their own assessments too. They barely glanced at the herbs, gave quick verdicts, and wrapped it up. After all, if the winner was already decided, what was the point of wasting time?
Finally, Chief Judge Zhang stood up, trembling slightly but full of excitement. "Now, I officially announce the end of the second round! The rankings are displayed on the main screen. We'll proceed immediately to the final round!"
He spoke as he walked, waving the others to follow. The entire judging team left together.
Everyone stared after them, utterly confused.
Then the host, Xiao Ai, hurried up with a smile. "Come on, everyone, follow me! We're starting the third round. Oh, right, I forgot to mention, the next part won't be held here. Bring your meal kits and follow us. Lights and cameras, keep rolling!"
"Ohhh!"
"What's the third round about? Why isn't it held here?"
"Maybe it'll be interesting! Wu City crushed us this round, but if the next one's not about herbs, we might still have a shot."
"Forget first place, we can still fight for second. The reward's decent even if it doesn't include that mysterious crimson energy. What a pity, though."
...
The group didn't have to walk far. They loaded their gear onto the waiting transport trucks and moved in a large crowd toward a site beside the Capital Pharmacist Association.
Only then did they realize it was an abandoned stadium.
The air was thick with a foul stench, sharp enough to make people gag. Jing Shu instantly recognized it—it was the same smell she'd caught that morning.
"What is this place?" someone asked.
"That's right," another replied grimly. "This is where the Capital keeps patients heavily infected by parasites. Until a new medicine's developed, they're all just... waiting here."
Waiting to die.
Those who couldn't hold on any longer would be hauled off to the crematorium. That was the brutal reality of it all.