With three superpowers at his fingertips, he could dominate the 1970s.

The next morning, Jiang Zhiyu used the spiritual spring water to heal most of her wounds, washed her face briefly, and then headed to the command post.

As soon as she opened the door, she sensed something was off.

The command center was packed with people, all with grave expressions. Some had furrowed brows, while others' hands trembled slightly as they held documents. Several military doctors in white coats stood in a corner, conversing quietly, their faces grim.

Jiang Zhiyu, not understanding, looked at Zhuge Yunhe.

Zhuge Yunhe's expression was even more grim than yesterday. Without waiting for her to speak, he said directly, "In the tent area, one-third of the disaster victims have shown symptoms of poisoning—vomiting, convulsions, and unconsciousness. The source of the poison has not yet been identified. If it's not stopped in time, the number of people falling ill will only increase."

Jiang Zhiyu's heart sank.

They arrived as expected.

She sat down, her tone calm but firm: "I wanted to tell you this yesterday. The spies and agents lurking here won't let this opportunity pass. Most of those poisoned people are likely their doing."

Zhuge Yunhe looked at her, signaling her to continue.

"The water the disaster victims have been using these past two days has all come from relief supplies we brought, so the water source itself isn't a problem," Jiang Zhiyu analyzed. "If he wanted to poison it, it would either have to be near the kitchen or somewhere we get our running water."

"We've checked," a military doctor next to him shook his head, "We've checked the water source and the kitchen, and found nothing unusual. But we can't identify the poison—our current medical resources are fine for normal rescue operations, but testing for this kind of toxin requires too much equipment and the procedures are too complicated; we simply can't handle it in a short time."

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at Zhuge Yunhe, her gaze shifting slightly.

Zhuge Yunhe was an extremely astute person, and he immediately understood.

"Please wait a moment, everyone. I need to speak with Consultant Jiang outside for a few minutes."

-

Once outside, Jiang Zhiyu spoke, her voice very low.

"I'll go check the source of the poison first."

A rare look of shock crossed Zhuge Yunhe's eyes as he looked at her: "You were able to find out?"

"I can only trace the source of the poison and help with the detoxification. But what exactly it is, you'll have to analyze it yourself—I'll collect some samples for you."

The weight that had been hanging over Zhuge Yunhe's heart was lifted halfway.

"Alright, then I'll leave it to you, Consultant Jiang."

Upon arriving at the tent area, she followed the activity tracks of the poisoned individuals, examining each one individually—what they ate, what they used, and what they touched.

What they had in common was that they had all participated in the morning's rescue and evacuation work.

Jiang Zhiyu walked to the distribution point, picked up a shovel, and gently ran her fingertips along the handle.

There was nothing unusual. But after Seventeen scanned it, she sensed something—there was an extremely thin, almost colorless and odorless coating on the surface of the shovel handle. It wasn't brushed on; it was stained on, seeping into the wood grain, and was completely invisible to the naked eye.

She then scanned the nearby pickaxes, crowbars, and stretcher handles—all of them.

The truth has come out.

The enemy was very cunning. He didn't poison the water source—that would have poisoned more people, but it would have been too easy to detect. He chose a more covert method: he smeared the poison on the handle of the rescue tool.

Only those who have handled the tools will be poisoned, so only one-third of the people affected are infected. The elderly, children, and injured who do not handle the tools are unaffected.

Human nature is despicable.

Jiang Zhiyu told Zhuge Yunhe about her discovery, and then turned around to arrange the antidote.

-

She had the cooks prepare a pot of medicine.

The medicinal herbs were taken from her spatial storage—or, ostensibly, from the medicine pouch she carried with her. Jiang Zhiyu wasn't particularly skilled in herbal formulas, so she simply boiled a pot of the most basic heat-clearing and detoxifying remedy: honeysuckle, isatis root, and licorice root—all very common herbs. Then, when no one was looking, she added a small cup of spiritual spring water to the pot; the pot was too big, and she was afraid that less water wouldn't be effective.

The detoxifying effect of the spiritual spring water is far more potent than any medicinal prescription; a few drops can change the nature of the entire pot of medicinal soup.

She instructed Ji Buzhi to arrange that everyone who had handled the rescue equipment should line up to receive medicine in the afternoon, one bowl per person, which they were to drink on the spot.

He then gave the order: Soak a cloth in the medicinal broth and wipe the handles of all the tools inside and out, leaving nothing out.

Ji Buzhi accepted the order and hurried off to carry it out.

The person who poisoned the plants was caught before noon.

They were indeed spies planted here.

When they caught him, he was squatting in a secluded, abandoned bungalow, typing out codes into a radio to transmit information. Next to him were several unlabeled bottles of chemical reagents and a simple set of painting tools.

The perpetrators were caught red-handed.

What's even more unexpected is this person's identity—a professor in the chemistry department of a university, specializing in organic synthesis. It's not surprising at all that he could produce a complexly formulated contact toxin.

When he was brought out, the man remained calm, but stared at Jiang Zhiyu for a few seconds with disbelief in his eyes.

-

After dealing with this matter, everyone in the command center was on edge.

The golden rescue time is shrinking second by second, and every second someone may not be able to hold on under the rubble—while these treacherous parasites hiding in the shadows are still causing trouble.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't go out for rescue operations all day; she spent the entire day tracing the source of the poison and working on an antidote. Leaning against the wall of the command room, she drank a mouthful of spiritual spring water, so exhausted that she could barely lift her arms.

But before one wave subsided, another arose.

Around 3 p.m., the communications soldier rushed into the command room, his face ashen.

"Report! The southern railway bridge has been bombed!"

Everyone's heart sank to the bottom at the same time.

"The rescue team is completely cut off from the mountains!" the communications soldier gasped for breath. "A large amount of reconstruction equipment can't be brought in; all the heavy equipment is stuck on the other side of the mountain—the roads are blocked, so nothing can be done!"

Zhuge Yunhe slammed his hand on the table, causing the teacup to jump.

Silence fell over the command center, and the same word was written on everyone's face—difficult.

Once the bridge is broken, it means that outsiders can't get in. Relying on manpower to dig through the rubble, how many alleys can be cleared in a day?

Zhuge Yunhe slowly turned his head and looked at Jiang Zhiyu.

In those eyes, Jiang Zhiyu saw that familiar look again.