Chapter 348: Chapter 244: Red Tide Type-II Greenhouse

The morning sunlight pierced through the high-altitude thin clouds, casting a pale halo at the edge of Red Tide Territory.

Geothermal steam quietly rose along the cracks, intertwining in the air, making the entire land seem covered with a layer of hazy mist.

More than ten semicircular wooden structures, coated with light stone film, lined up like low hills, stretching endlessly.

This is the location of the greenhouse cluster, one of the foundations of Red Tide’s self-rescue system for this winter.

Louis walked steadfastly into the busy greenhouse area.

The Personal Guard Knight followed closely, while Emily walked alongside him, her light armor and cape fluttering gently in the breeze.

The air was filled with the mixed warm humidity of soil, wood, and steam, different from the winter cold, not quite warm, but akin to the scent of life.

The craftsmen building new greenhouses noticed the lord’s arrival, stopped their hammers and hoes, and stood up to bow in salute.

The refugees conscripted for the rebuilding effort also looked back from the field ridges and channels, not daring to get closer, their eyes reflecting mixed emotions of gratitude and an indescribable awe.

Most of them had been destitute refugees on the run two months ago.

Now they were able to work here, eat their fill, and have a piece of land to survive.

“It’s Lord Louis,” an elderly woman whispered, tugging at the clothes of the child beside her.

The little boy gazed wide-eyed at the black-haired young man, his eyes shining.

Emily sensed the crowd’s gazes swelling, and turned her head slightly to look at Louis beside her.

His expression was calm, his steps unchanged, as if he had long been accustomed to the weight of these gazes, saying nothing, just nodding slightly, responding to the respect and hope in those eyes.

Approaching the greenhouse cluster, a dense steam rose gracefully from the gaps.

The air grew more humid and warm, as if here was not the icy Northern Territory, but the southern region of the Empire.

“The walls are made of thick hemp cloth, animal skins, and compacted mud.” Emily whispered, her fingers caressing the mottled animal skin on the surface.

Louis nodded, the outer layer of the greenhouses used the multilayer composite structure he had proposed.

Not seeking aesthetics, but highly practical, enough to withstand the Red Tide Territory’s harsh winter winds and snow.

The greenhouse entrance had double wind protection doors, separated by thick wool curtains to prevent cold air from rushing in directly.

Tracks and rollers were laid at the entrance, facilitating the transport of fertilizers and harvested crops, ensuring operations continued even if heavy snow blocked the roads.

An old man dressed in a coarse cloth cape, with a tool pouch at his waist, hurried over, mud and steam marks still lingering on his face; it was, of course, the Agricultural Officer Mike.

“Lord… Lord Louis!” he said, his voice brimming with uncontrollable excitement, his face wrinkled into a smile,

“This… this is modified according to the design plans you left last year, we call it the ’Red Tide Type II Greenhouse,’ an upgrade from last year!”

“Good, show me.” Louis smiled, his tone not stern.

Mike immediately turned to lead the way, his steps brisk but somewhat dragging.

As he walked, he eagerly explained: “This time, we added a double-layer support structure to the design, and used those… geothermal pipes you mentioned. It’s not easy to collapse, and it can maintain temperature and moisture. The roof uses newly ground light stone panels, which can reflect light and are also warmer.”

“Slow down,” Louis interrupted him with a smile.

“Yes, apologies, my lord.”

Louis walked to a side wall of a greenhouse, gently knocked a few times, then crouched down, touching the lower edge of the wall.

Beneath the overlapping thick hemp and animal skins was a compacted layer of straw and mud, crude but solid; the fingertips felt the firm density and dryness, with no moisture seeping through.

“Hmm… thickness and density meet standards,” Louis muttered softly.

Then they passed through the buffer passage, and upon entering the greenhouse, were hit by the aromatic scent of damp soil and warm steam.

What greeted them was a stretch of green.

Mist floated in the humid air, light stone lamps hung high above, the soft white light reflecting off the specially coated reflective walls, brightening the entire greenhouse transparently.

The soil ridges were neat, channels unblocked, a few women in coarse clothing were weeding and transplanting, while a few youths carried wooden buckets, watering and irrigating. The elderly sat aside, counting seeds and fertilizers.

All of this, in the winter of the Northern Territory, bordered on miraculous.

Emily stood at the greenhouse entrance, a rare sense of amazement in her eyes.

Within the greenhouse, steam swirled and diffused. Mike carefully wiped the sweat from his forehead, turning back to glance at Louis with some pride.

“My lord, do you remember… when three greenhouses collapsed last winter?”

“I remember.” Louis looked at the arched ceiling, his tone calm.

“Well, this time, we’ve changed.” Mike struggled to contain his excited voice, leading the way forward, pointing to the overhead arched structure, “Originally, we used a single-arch structure, when the wind blew, and snow capped… crack, it collapsed.”

Emily also looked up, the dome now divided into two layers, the outer coarse, the inner gentle, distinctly layered.

“This is a new design, your suggestion… and discussed together with the old craftsman Mike. Now we use a dual-arch zone skeleton, the outer layer supports snow loads, the inner layer buffers. Even heavy snow and wind can’t collapse it.”

As Mike spoke, he raised a sturdy finger for emphasis: “Load capacity tripled! It also allows ventilation, preventing stuffiness.”

“Certainly higher than last year,” Louis surveyed the surroundings, with ample headroom, no longer the cramped space of last year.

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